./づ~ (🍓) strawberry !! wattpad/a03 ; strwberryblast feel free to request!
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K-pop Demon Hunter

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Rumi
nothing here yet!
Jinu
nothing here yet!
Mira
nothing here yet!
Romance
nothing here yet!
Zoey
nothing here yet!
Mystery
nothing here yet!
Baby
nothing here yet!
Abby
nothing here yet!
Headcanons
nothing here yet!
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#x reader#fan fiction#kpop demon hunter#baby saja#romance saja#jinu saja#rumi huntrix#zoey huntrix#mira huntrix#mystery saja#abby saja#oneshot#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics
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Hi guys !
it's been awhile since I've posted on tumblr, but lately i've been so obsessed with KDH and it's set me out of my fan fiction hiatus, i think im gonna write some oneshots on it, but i've been writing a book on wattpad called "streamer" about baby saja, i think it'd be cool if you guys checked it out!
STREAMER, baby saja
its social media au, fem reader, and he's a human idol. i'm planning on writing more as well.
#x reader#fanfic#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics#baby saja#KDH#kpop demon hunter#wattpad fanfiction#promo#social media#social media au
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Second Chance (Suna x Fem!Reader)

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As the gym emptied around him, Suna stood by the side of the court, fingers curling and uncurling around the volleyball he hadn’t let go of. The last echoes of the game still lingered in the air, the shrill of whistles, the soft thud of sneakers on the floor, the quiet murmurs of teammates packing away their bags. But Suna wasn’t listening to any of it. His gaze was fixed on the bleachers, where you sat, your laugh echoing across the gym.
You.
Your presence was like an ache he couldn’t shake, a pain that had taken root in him long before it all fell apart. It wasn’t that he wanted you to see him—not exactly. But just knowing you were there, that you were close enough to feel your warmth even without speaking, made his chest tighten in a way that was almost unbearable.
It had been months since you two broke up. Months since he had pushed you away, afraid of how deep his feelings ran. He thought he could handle it—that he could walk away without looking back, without feeling that gnawing regret. But here he was, still stuck in the same cycle, pretending to be indifferent when all he really wanted was to fix everything, to make it right again.
His fingers twitched around the ball. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. In fact, that’s what scared him the most—that the care was still there, that he missed you more than he was willing to admit.
A part of him told him to walk over to you. To close the distance that had grown between you two over the past few months, to apologize for everything he’d failed to say. But another part—one far stronger—told him to stay where he was. Don’t make a scene. Don’t show weakness. You don’t need to know.
He thought, You’re not ready, not yet.
His breath caught as he glanced at you again, watching you laugh with your friends. You weren’t looking at him, not even once.
His eyes flickered to his teammates, gathering their things, as if they could distract him from the sight of you. But it was useless. He’d seen the way you used to smile at him, the way your eyes lit up when you teased him after practice. The way you used to talk about everything that made you happy, and how he’d just listen, trying to hold on to those moments like they were the only real things in his life.
But now… now everything was different.
He knew he’d messed it all up. But what could he do? What could he possibly say to fix the mess he’d made?
His hand gripped the volleyball harder, the pressure building, until it was almost painful. Why couldn’t he just walk up to you? Why did it feel like every step would be impossible?
The gym was quiet now, save for the rustling of bags being zipped, shoes slapping against the floor as everyone filed out.
And then, for just a second, your eyes met his.
It was brief, like a fleeting moment in time that could easily be ignored, but Suna’s heart skipped a beat. Your gaze held his, just long enough to make the silence between you two feel unbearable.
You didn’t smile. You didn’t say anything. But your eyes… they said enough.
The realization hit him with the force of a wave. He missed you. He missed everything about you—your laugh, your teasing, the way you always made him feel like he mattered, even when he didn’t deserve it.
But what could he do? What could he say after everything he’d put you through?
His fingers still clutched the ball as he turned, walking away from the court, leaving the gym behind. His chest was tight, his head swirling with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of.
Maybe it wasn’t too late, he thought. Maybe you’d hear him out if he tried. But then again, maybe it was.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to face you yet.
—----
Suna lied in his bed, his phone hovered over his face, the light illuminating his dark room. He was looking at your guys messages from the day you broke up.
He taps the screen, staring at the conversation that’s been a constant presence on his phone. He’s gone through it so many times that he knows the words by heart, but it doesn’t stop him from scrolling through again. The little bubble with your name in it seems to glow on his screen, like a beacon of something he can’t quite touch. Something he misses.
He bites his lip, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of him wonders if he’s crazy for even thinking of sending another message. The messages have stopped coming from your end, and the silence is deafening.
[Name] <3 Did you do the homework boo? I completely forgot!!
He laughed, you always forgot to do your homework, no matter how much you’d say you’d remember. He missed that nickname, he missed being your boo.
Suna You forgot again LMFAO? Alsooo no I never do, you know that silly.
[Name] <3 I’m serious though, I can’t even remember what subject it’s for. I’m doomed!!
He runs a hand through his hair. He can almost hear the playful, exaggerated desperation in your voice as you’d say that. He knows you, knows how you’d freak out over the smallest things, even though you always managed to figure it out in the end.
Suna You always forget, it’s honestly impressive. Just wing it like I do.
[Name] <3
If I wing it like you, I’ll be failing every class by the end of the semester!
Suna It’s a strategy. Also, boo, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll pull it off—just like you always do.
That one always got a smile from you, didn’t it? The way you’d joke back, saying, "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that."
Suna lingers on this message for a moment. He knows that’s how it used to go. You’d always reply, always play along. The back-and-forth never stopped.
But now… now it’s just silence. The message sits on the screen, and he knows there won’t be a response this time.
Suna types out another message, staring at the words before he deletes them. His heart races a little as he hesitates.
Suna I miss you, you know.
He stops himself right before pressing send. What if it’s too much? What if you don’t want to hear from him anymore? The silence on your end is loud, like a reminder that things aren’t the same anymore. That there’s too much distance between them now, no matter how much he wants to close that gap.
He takes a deep breath and presses delete.
The message stays unsent. He wonders if you still think about him. If, by some chance, you miss him too.
A long pause. The silence stretches across the screen like an echo.
Suna Take care of yourself, [Name].
He’s about to turn off his phone when he notices something odd. A red exclamation point next to the message he just sent. His heart drops into his stomach. He blinks, unsure for a moment, but his fingers tap on the screen again, looking closer. He’s blocked. His stomach twists.
He tries again.
Suna Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know if you still want to talk to me, but I just… I miss you. I miss us. Please, just talk to me.
The same red exclamation point appears. Blocked.
His thumb hovers again, his heart pounding, but it’s no use. Every message he types gets blocked. He stares at the screen, his chest tight, staring at the notification that won’t go away.
He exhales shakily and leans back, feeling the weight of the moment. He should’ve known, shouldn’t he? He should’ve figured it out before now. But part of him still thought there might be a chance, that maybe he’d get through to you, even just once.
But this is it.
Suna stares at the screen. The last message he can’t send. His last chance to say something that matters.
He turns off his phone, slumping back against his bed. He’d been staring at his phone for longer than he cared to admit, and now, all that’s left is the empty, painful feeling of knowing that he’s been blocked.
The silence stretches around him, and he finally lets his shoulders drop.
It’s over, he thinks. Just like that.
—--- You sat on your bed, your legs pulled up to your chest as you stared at the empty screen of your phone. It had been a few months since the breakup, but the ache still lingered, just as raw as the first night he walked away.
You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of your blanket. Your mind kept circling back to him, and it was like a broken record that you couldn’t turn off. You missed him. You missed him in a way that made your chest ache, made you feel a kind of hollow emptiness you didn’t know how to fill. The worst part was, you knew it was your fault for letting things go on this way. For letting him hurt you. But you also knew you couldn't just ignore it.
But… he broke up with me.
The thought hit you like a wave of cold water. He was the one who ended things. He was the one who walked away. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about how it had all used to be. About how much you’d taken for granted, the simple joy of being with him. The silly jokes. The late-night talks. The feeling that, even when life sucked, at least you had each other.
But it wasn’t enough, was it? He’d left, and that was final. That was how it went, how it always went. You break up, you heal, and eventually, you move on. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.
Your fingers twitched as they hovered over the phone. You had blocked him the night it happened, right after the breakup. The very first night. You told yourself it was necessary. It was the only way to protect yourself from the flood of emotions you didn’t want to deal with. Blocking him felt like the only control you had left over the situation. It was a way to cut him out of your life, to give yourself space to breathe without the constant reminders of him popping up in your messages.
But even now, with the distance between you, you felt like you were suffocating.
I miss him, you thought again, clutching your phone tighter. I miss him so much. But… I’m the one who blocked him. I chose to do that. I need to stick with it. I need to move on.
The thought of unblocking him flickered in your mind. Just one peek. One simple look at his name. You knew you could do it, could undo the decision you made in the heat of the moment. The temptation was almost overwhelming.
But would it even change anything? Would it fix things? Would it make everything feel right again?
No, you told yourself, a small frown tugging at your lips. It wouldn’t fix anything. It’d just open everything back up. And I don’t think I can handle that again.
You buried your face in your hands for a moment, feeling the weight of the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. The sadness, the guilt, the confusion, the lingering sense of love you didn’t know what to do with.
You wanted to scream, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, letting your hands fall to your sides as you looked at the ceiling, the faint sound of traffic outside barely reaching your ears.
The silence felt deafening.
You ran a hand through your hair, chewing on your lip as the familiar ache crept in again. He was the one who ended it. I need to remember that. He’s the one who left. I don’t need to miss him. I can’t.
Your heart clenched painfully at the thought of him, at the little things you used to take for granted—his laugh, the way his eyes would light up when he smiled, the way he always knew how to calm you even when you didn’t want to be calmed.
And it hurts.
It really hurts.
You looked back at your phone, your thumb hovering just above the screen. You thought about all the times you would’ve called him to tell him about your day, to laugh about something silly. Those moments felt like they were in another lifetime now, like something that never really belonged to you in the first place.
But now, it was just this ache. Just this gaping hole in your chest where something used to be.
I want to move on. I have to. It’s over. It was over the moment he said goodbye.
But even as you thought that, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go, a part of you whispered something different. Something that wanted to fix it. Something that wanted to reach out.
You took a deep breath, slowly sliding the phone into your pocket as though that might shield you from the emotions swirling inside. You have made your decision. Blocking him was the right choice.
Even though it didn’t feel like it.
—----
Suna walked into school that day, feeling the weight of the same old routine. The buzz of students in the hallway, the scrape of sneakers on the floor, the noise all around him… it didn’t faze him. He’d gotten used to it by now. But there was something about today that felt off, like there was a subtle shift in the air.
He stepped into the classroom and automatically glanced toward the back, his eyes scanning the seats, almost like it was a habit. His eyes landed on the one person he couldn’t seem to shake. You.
He always noticed you, even when he didn’t want to. It was easier when you were out of sight, when he didn’t have to deal with the tightness in his chest that seemed to come every time he saw you.
You were in the back of the room, doing your best to ignore him, just as you always did. He didn’t blame you for it. After all, he was the one who ended things. He’d messed up, and now he had to live with it.
He couldn’t stop looking at you, even though he told himself not to. The way you were sitting, looking so distant and small, it twisted something inside him. Why’d I have to be so stupid? The thought hit him hard, and he quickly forced his gaze away, pretending he hadn’t just felt that.
At least the seating arrangements helped. You weren’t sitting next to him anymore. It made things a little easier, or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. There was a distance now, a space that felt almost too big, and yet it wasn’t big enough to get you out of his head. He hadn’t realized how often he’d been distracted by your presence, even just sitting there in the same room. Now that you were out of his immediate sight, it just made everything harder to deal with.
Suna tried to focus on the lesson, tried to keep his eyes forward and not let his mind wander. But he couldn’t ignore the pull to you, like some invisible string that kept drawing him in. Every now and then, he’d glance in your direction, but when your eyes weren’t meeting his, it felt like you were both in different worlds.
He couldn’t help the frustration that bubbled up when he saw you, so far away, so… unreachable. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He had walked away, and now it felt like you were too far to even try to fix things. It’s my fault. I should’ve said something. I should’ve tried harder.
The minutes ticked by slowly, and the noise of the classroom faded in and out of focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. What would you say if I just… talked to you? He wanted to ask that, but then what? The question lingered in his mind like a ghost, never finding its way out.
It didn’t help that the room was so quiet, save for the occasional rustling of papers and the soft scratch of pens on paper. But every now and then, he’d hear the sound of your breathing or the faintest sound of your pencil tapping against the desk. It made everything feel so… normal, like you hadn’t gone anywhere. Like you hadn’t been torn from his life so suddenly.
But you had.
And he was the one who made that happen.
The bell rang before he even realized it, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. It was time to go. He stood up, reaching for his bag, and for a moment, he caught your eyes, just for the briefest second. It felt like everything around them froze, even if it was just for a heartbeat. But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and you quickly turned away.
Suna swallowed, trying to ignore the tightening feeling in his chest.
You hadn’t said anything to him, and he hadn’t expected you to. He wasn’t even sure if you ever would again. But seeing you like this, so far away from him… it was harder than he ever imagined it would be. He had blocked you out of his life because he thought it was for the best. But now, with the silence hanging between them, he wasn’t so sure.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk out of the classroom, his eyes lingering on you one last time. You weren’t looking anymore, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you still cared. If you missed him, too.
You probably hate me, he thought as he stepped into the hallway, the sound of students talking around him, but none of it registering. He just wanted to forget all the words he hadn’t said. The apologies, the things left unsaid.
But there was nothing he could do now, was there? He had let you go, and now he was left with nothing but the empty space between them.
Suna walked down the hallway, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and frustration. Every step felt like it carried the weight of the decisions he’d made, and he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. Even now, after everything, he still couldn’t fully understand what had happened between you both.
He passed by groups of students chatting and laughing, their voices a blur in his ears. It was like everything was happening around him, but he was stuck in this bubble of self-inflicted pain. The emptiness he felt was palpable, and it gnawed at him. I should’ve just tried harder.
I should’ve talked to you.
He wanted to scream, to punch the nearest wall. Anything to release the tension building up inside of him. He knew he’d messed up, but how could he fix it? How could he even begin to make it right when everything between you two felt broken?
Suna paused for a second, leaning against a locker as he let out a deep breath. His hand ran through his messy hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. It had been months since the breakup, but the ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.
The memory of the last time he saw you—the way your eyes had avoided his, the way you’d turned away like he wasn’t even there—it was burned into his mind. He’d walked away, yes, but you had too. The block on his phone felt like a wall, an undeniable signal that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.
But then there were moments like today, when he’d caught your eyes for just that split second in class, and it had felt like nothing had changed. Like maybe… maybe there was still something there. But I can’t just show up and fix things, can I?
Suna leaned his head against the locker, staring at the ground. He hated that it was his fault. He hated how easily he pushed you away. And now, all he wanted was to reach out, to say something—anything—that would let you know he regretted it all. But you’d blocked him. He had no way of even reaching you, and that hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
But you won’t unblock me, he thought bitterly. And I deserve that.
The bell rang again, signaling the end of the passing period. He straightened up, forcing himself to move. As he walked toward his next class, his mind kept circling back to you.
The hallway cleared out, and he found himself outside the classroom door. His eyes wandered over to the door next to his, where you had just entered. You were in there, and he was just a room away, separated by nothing but walls and time.
If only it were that simple…
He walked into his classroom, feeling the same distance between you two, but this time it felt heavier. The silence was suffocating.
As he took his seat, he glanced toward the back, but you weren’t there. You’d gone into your own world, and he couldn’t blame you. He had given you no reason to stay. You’d been nothing but patient, caring, and understanding… while he had been selfish. He had been stupid.
The teacher began talking, but Suna wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes wandered again, his gaze falling on the spot where you usually sat. It was empty.
He was a fool.
And no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t take back the harsh words, the cold distance, or the way he’d pushed you away.
But still, even now, even when he knew he had no right to hope, he couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.
Would you ever forgive him? Would you ever open the door just a crack and let him back in? Would things ever be the same?
Probably not, he thought, clenching his fists. But I can’t let go. I can’t.
—---
Suna sat slumped in his seat, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the desk. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the wood grain, but his mind was anywhere but here. This was so stupid. The way everything had spiraled out of control. The way he’d convinced himself he was fine, that it was the right decision. But now, months after the breakup, it felt like the weight of it was finally crashing down on him.
Why hadn’t he just talked to you? Why hadn’t he said anything instead of walking away with nothing but silence in the air? It didn’t make any sense. It was like a brick wall had been built between you both, one that he had put up, and now he was stuck on his side of it, unable to break through.
His fingers drummed faster, almost as if it could distract him from the gnawing feeling of regret eating at him. Why now? he thought, rubbing his temples. Why after all this time?
Was he really that in denial? Had he pushed it all away, pretending it didn’t matter? He’d kept telling himself that the distance was for the best, that moving on was the only way to stop thinking about you. But that didn’t make the ache in his chest go away. It didn’t make the little voice in his head stop wondering if you were thinking about him too, if you missed him the way he missed you.
Suna couldn’t help it—he was tired of this. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt. But even now, after everything, he didn’t know how to fix it. Didn’t know how to reach out without feeling like an idiot.
The sound of the lunch bell ringing broke through his spiraling thoughts, and for a second, he blinked, coming back to reality. The chatter of students filled the room, their excitement cutting through the heavy silence that had settled in his chest. He sighed, pushing his chair back as the crowd started to move toward the door.
He stood up slowly, letting the noise of everyone else filter in, but his mind stayed on you. He wondered if you’d be in the cafeteria, if you’d see him at all. Would you even look his way? Or had you already moved on?
He couldn’t keep avoiding this. He couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t thinking about you every damn second. His stomach twisted at the thought of you being out of his reach. And maybe, just maybe, this whole stupid act of trying to act unaffected was just a way to protect himself from the truth—that he still wanted you back. He still missed you.
But how could he fix what was already broken? How could he take back all the time they’d lost, the words that hadn’t been said?
Suna let out a breath, trying to shake off the thoughts as he joined the stream of students heading for the cafeteria. The door to the hallway swung open, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered toward your direction—just a quick glance, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d be there.
But you weren’t.
The pang of disappointment hit him harder than expected, and his shoulders slumped. He had to remind himself—this wasn’t about you seeing him. This wasn’t about getting your attention anymore. It was about fixing what he had broken. Fixing himself first, before trying to fix anything between you.
But damn, it was hard.
The lunchroom was loud, crowded with voices and laughter, but he barely noticed any of it. His thoughts were still with you, stuck in the past, wondering if you were still somewhere thinking about him too. But I can't reach out. I'm blocked.
And with that, the walls he built up between you both came rushing back into his mind.
Suna sat down at the table with his usual group, a slumped posture, one elbow resting on the table while his fingers drummed absently. He was trying to pay attention, trying to pretend that the world wasn't spinning out of control around him. His friends—Osamu, Atsumu, and Aren—were all talking, but none of it registered. His thoughts kept circling back to you.
It had been months since the breakup, but that didn’t stop him from wondering why, how, he’d let it go so far. Why he hadn't just talked to you when things had started falling apart. But no. He had pushed you away. The distance had come and now… well, now he was left with a heavy silence and a heart that ached in all the wrong places.
Across the cafeteria, he spotted you. His stomach tightened. You were walking toward their table, and everything in his chest screamed to do something—anything—but he sat there, paralyzed.
You weren’t looking at him. No. You were heading straight for Atsumu, and the way you looked at him made Suna feel like he was invisible.
He tried not to notice the way your eyes sparkled when you saw Atsumu. How you made your way over to him with that casual grace, your presence drawing everyone’s attention as you slid into the seat across from him.
"Hey, Atsumu," you greeted, with a soft smile, as you dropped your tray on the table and sat down.
Atsumu, always the one to react to everything a little more than necessary, smirked as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence today.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What, you don’t miss me? I thought I was your favorite person to talk to during lunch.”
Atsumu threw a dramatic hand to his chest. “Of course you are. You’re the only one who can keep up with my level of awesomeness.” He leaned in further, clearly enjoying the attention. “But seriously, how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Suna could feel the tension building in his chest as he stared down at the table, his fingers still tapping, too fast now, like he couldn’t keep still. You were talking to Atsumu like everything was fine, like things were normal, but nothing was normal. And even though he hadn’t said anything to Atsumu about it—he didn’t need to—he could tell Atsumu noticed, too.
Suna could see his best friend’s gaze flicker over to him for a moment before quickly looking back at you. Atsumu wasn’t oblivious. He’d known about the breakup, and he was well aware that there was still tension in the air between Suna and you. It wasn’t something either of them had openly discussed yet. Atsumu, being the kind of guy who liked to keep things breezy, probably didn't want to bring it up outright. But Suna could feel the weight of it.
“Not much, just, you know, surviving.” You shrugged lightly, pushing your food around with your fork. “Been a bit busy with school and all.”
Suna’s chest tightened again. Surviving. That’s what you called it now. You weren’t living, you were surviving. And somehow, that hit harder than anything.
“I get that,” Atsumu replied with a grin, but there was something in his voice that wasn’t quite his usual teasing. He was softer now, like he was trying to read you. Suna, however, could see that it wasn’t just concern—it was something more. There was something in Atsumu’s eyes when he looked at you, something that Suna couldn’t quite pinpoint but definitely recognized.
Atsumu cleared his throat, trying to shift the focus away from the silence that hung between the three of them. “Yo, how’s that physics homework treating you? Got all those problems figured out or what?”
You smiled at the change in topic, clearly relieved by the distraction, but your eyes never left Atsumu’s as you replied. “Barely. But I think I’m getting there. You know how I like to figure it out on my own.”
Suna could see Atsumu’s eyes linger just a little too long on you before he smirked. “Well, if you want, I can give you a hand. I’m a genius when it comes to math.”
You chuckled, clearly amused. “Yeah, right. You always say that, and then you end up just confusing me more.”
Atsumu grinned back, but there was a softness there now, something Suna hadn’t seen from his friend before. Atsumu had always been outgoing, always eager to tease and flirt, but right now, he was giving you a look that was almost… sincere.
Suna’s stomach twisted, and he tried to ignore it. He didn’t know why he was feeling like this—why his chest felt so tight every time you smiled at Atsumu. He shouldn’t be jealous, shouldn’t be annoyed by it. He was the one who’d pushed you away.
But then you casually leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled at Atsumu. “I’ll take my chances without your genius, thanks. I don’t need you giving me a headache on top of everything else.”
Atsumu threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Ouch, that hurt.” He put a hand to his chest like he was wounded, but the smile never left his face. It was the kind of look that Suna used to get—before he’d screwed everything up.
Suna glanced at his friends, but no one seemed to notice the way his gaze flickered back and forth between you and Atsumu. Osamu was lazily eating his lunch, Aren was on his phone, scrolling through something, but no one was noticing how the air around him had thickened with something unspoken.
And then, like a punch to the gut, Atsumu turned to him, giving him that slight knowing look. “Yo, Suna, you in this conversation or you just planning to stare at the wall today?”
Suna blinked, breaking his gaze from you and finally meeting Atsumu’s eyes. It was then he realized that Atsumu had noticed. He wasn’t blind, and neither was Suna. It was no secret that Atsumu had a thing for you, not that you noticed.
“Yeah,” Suna muttered, trying to sound casual, though his voice was thick with something he couldn’t place. “Just thinking.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the subject any further. He knew better than to prod when Suna was like this.
Instead, you spoke up again, your voice light and teasing, as if everything was fine. “You’re still gonna help me study next week, right?”
Atsumu grinned. “Of course. I’m always here for you.”
But Suna couldn’t help the bitter feeling that crawled up his throat as he heard those words. They were his. They were supposed to be his promises, his assurances. But now, they were nothing more than an echo in a room full of empty spaces.
He watched as you walked away, your back turned to him, a slight sway to your steps as if you were trying to avoid anyone noticing how much you didn’t want to be here. Maybe it was just out of boredom or the awkwardness that hung in the air, but either way, it was painfully clear you didn’t want to stick around. You had already decided you weren’t going to stay where you didn’t feel comfortable, and that place wasn’t with him anymore.
His gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening, unable to pull his eyes away. He missed you—so much. And even though he knew it was his fault, even though he knew this wasn’t something he could easily fix, it still hurt to watch you walk away like it was nothing. You didn’t even glance back, didn’t pause to acknowledge him, like you’d already let him go long before he ever had the courage to let you go.
Osamu smacked Atsumu on the back of the head, the sharp sound breaking Suna from his thoughts. Atsumu flinched and let out an exaggerated “Ow!” rubbing the spot where Osamu had hit him.
"Focus, Atsumu," Osamu scolded, not even looking up from his food. “Quit acting like a dog in heat around [Name].”
Suna didn’t react. He didn’t even look at them. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where you’d been standing, the seat now empty. The space around him felt cold, void of the usual banter, the easy comfort he once felt whenever you were near. Now it just felt… hollow.
He should’ve been better. Should’ve tried harder. He should've known that ignoring his own feelings, that pushing you away in the name of pride, was never going to work. And now it was too late.
Atsumu, still rubbing the back of his head, glanced over at Suna, probably noticing that he wasn’t paying attention. He let out a small sigh, and though his voice was casual, there was an edge of something in it. “Yo, you good, Suna?”
Suna barely blinked. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice almost flat, lacking any of the usual bite. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Atsumu, not with the knot in his stomach, the jealousy gnawing at him in a way he didn’t want to admit.
Atsumu, oblivious to the internal turmoil Suna was trying to hide, just chuckled and nudged Osamu. “Suna’s fine. He’s just being moody.”
Osamu gave him a sideways look, but his gaze shifted back to Suna, who was still lost in his thoughts. "Maybe. Or maybe he’s still thinking about what happened. You know, with… you know, her."
Suna's chest tightened. Osamu’s words were like a physical blow. He knew it was inevitable that they’d have to talk about it at some point. Everyone knew what had happened, but the last thing he wanted right now was to talk about it—especially with Atsumu.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Suna muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up, feeling the need to get away from all of this.
Suna stared down at the table, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. His thoughts were still tangled up in you, in everything that had happened, in the silence that had settled between the two of you since the breakup. He wasn’t sure why it was hitting him so hard now—months after the fact—but the absence of your presence had carved a hole that felt impossible to fill.
As if on cue, Osamu and Atsumu noticed the tension hanging in the air and decided to steer the conversation in a new direction.
“Hey, so, I’m having a party this weekend,” Osamu said casually, leaning back in his chair and flashing a knowing look at Atsumu. “You wanna come?”
Suna blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in the conversation. A party. The distraction of a big, loud event. It was exactly what he needed. Maybe it would help him forget, even for just a few hours. He glanced up at his friends, still feeling that tightness in his chest.
He hadn’t realized just how suffocating the last few months had been until now. He’d buried himself in volleyball, in school, in all the little distractions life offered, but now, the weight of everything—especially you—was starting to break through. Maybe a big party would help him forget.
Suna let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before he nodded. “Yeah. I could use a break. Sounds like a good distraction.”
Atsumu, who had been waiting for this moment, grinned wide. “Hell yeah, man. It’s gonna be a big one. Lots of people. Don’t even think about bailing last minute. You need to get out of your head, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Suna said quietly, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. “I think I do.”
Osamu raised an eyebrow, giving him a quick once-over. “You sure about this? I’m not throwing some small get-together. It’s gonna be loud. A lot of people from school are coming. Some you might not wanna see.”
Suna’s eyes flicked to Osamu, his thoughts still swirling. He knew what he meant—people who might remind him of her, of you. You’d been his first love, his first girlfriend. The one who made him believe that maybe love wasn’t just some complicated thing he’d read about in books. You were his first everything, and losing you—walking away from each other, all of it—had been harder than he was willing to admit. The breakup had shaken him more than he ever thought it would, and now it felt like he was struggling to put the pieces back together.
He couldn’t keep hiding from it.
But the idea of being surrounded by people, of not having to face the silent gap between the two of you, was too tempting. A distraction, an escape—just for a while.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said with a little more conviction than he felt. “I can handle it.”
Atsumu’s grin stretched even wider, clearly satisfied with the answer. “That’s the spirit! You’re gonna have a blast, man. You need it.”
Suna thought back to the last party he went to, which had been months ago before everything had unraveled between you two. The laughter, the music, the chaos—it all felt so distant now. And yet, here he was, agreeing to go to another one, hoping maybe the night would help him forget. Maybe just for a little bit.
“You’re bringing anyone?” Osamu asked, eyeing him closely.
Suna hesitated. The thought of showing up alone felt heavy, but he didn’t know who else to invite. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t there to make new memories with anyone. He just needed a change of scenery.
“Probably not,” Suna muttered, his voice betraying him with its uncertainty. “I don’t think I’ll bring anyone.”
“Alright,” Atsumu said, his voice teasing but understanding. “As long as you don’t stand in a corner and brood all night, we’re good.”
Suna gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze wandered again, his mind drifting back to you.
You—his first love. His first everything.
The thought of seeing you there, mingling with people, laughing with others… it wasn’t something he was ready for, not after everything. The idea of you moving on, of someone else getting to have the things that were once his—it made his chest tighten.
“Okay, well,” Osamu said, cutting through the silence that had fallen between them, “we’ll see you there, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Suna said softly, his mind far away. “I’ll be there.”
And as the conversation shifted back to other topics, Suna remained lost in his thoughts. The party, the music, the noise—none of it would drown out the questions that kept swirling in his mind. But maybe for a night, he could pretend. Pretend that he wasn’t still haunted by the ghost of his first love. Pretend that everything hadn’t come crashing down around him.
Maybe he could find some peace in the chaos.
He wasn’t sure yet. But he was going to try.
—-----
It was Saturday at 10 p.m., and Suna had just arrived at the party. The music thumped from the house as he walked up the driveway, the noise growing louder with each step. He could already feel the weight of the night pressing down on him, his thoughts still tangled in a mess of things he wasn’t ready to face.
Osamu had made sure Atsumu wouldn’t invite you. Out of respect, he’d said, or maybe it was just easier this way. Suna wasn’t sure which, but the fact that you weren’t here felt like a relief—and a burden all at once.
The house was already crowded. People were milling about, laughing, talking, a few clinking glasses together. A couple of familiar faces waved in his direction as he stepped inside, but Suna didn’t feel the usual ease he normally would in this kind of crowd. Tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the noise, the chatter, the flashing lights—all of it felt suffocating. It was almost too much.
He pushed through the crowd, trying to find his friends, trying to shake off the feeling that he didn’t belong here. The weight of everything was still there—heavy and unrelenting. The thought of you not being here, of you not being part of his life in the way you used to be, it hit him harder than he thought it would.
When he found Osamu and Atsumu, they were leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to a few other people, laughing about something Suna couldn’t quite hear over the noise. Atsumu caught sight of him first, grinning wide as he waved him over.
“Yo, Suna! You finally made it!” Atsumu called over the music, his voice excited.
Suna gave a small wave in return, trying to mask the weight in his chest. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“You good, man?” Osamu asked, raising an eyebrow, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Suna’s expression.
Suna nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”
Atsumu gave him a knowing look. “It’s all good, bro. It’ll loosen up once you’ve had a drink or two. Come on, let’s get you something.”
He grabbed Suna’s arm and led him toward the drink table, shoving a cup into his hand without asking if he wanted it. The familiar sting of alcohol as it slid down his throat made Suna grimace, but he didn’t care. He needed something to numb the ache that was sitting heavy in his chest, something to wash away the thoughts of you.
He glanced around the room again, half expecting to catch a glimpse of you. To see you laughing with friends, or just standing in the corner like you used to, smiling at him in that way that made his chest feel lighter.
But you weren’t here. You weren’t anywhere.
And that felt both like a relief and a stab to the heart.
Atsumu leaned closer, breaking Suna out of his spiral. “You’re looking at everyone like you’re waiting for someone, man.”
Suna shook his head quickly, not wanting to be caught. “No,” he muttered. “Just… thinking.”
Osamu raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “About what?”
Suna shrugged, trying to play it off. “Nothing. It’s just… weird being here without her, you know?”
Atsumu’s expression softened for a second, before he grinned again. “Man, I know. But you gotta stop thinking about it. You’re here now. Just… enjoy yourself. Have a little fun.”
Suna let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Fun."
He took another sip from the cup, the bitter taste doing little to dull the gnawing feeling that lingered in his chest. It was so hard, being here—surrounded by people, but feeling so alone. He couldn’t help but think about what could’ve been, what it used to be like when you were around.
Before everything fell apart.
Before he let his pride and fear destroy the one thing he truly cared about.
The music blared on, and Suna tried his best to push those thoughts down, to let the night wash over him like the drink in his hand. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.
Suna walked into the party, his mind a whirlwind of frustration. The last few months had been a mess, and he had no one to blame but himself. Sure, it was supposed to be a night to forget about everything, but his thoughts kept circling back to you.
The music was loud and filled the room, and people were laughing and shouting, but Suna couldn’t feel any of it. He was too stuck in his own head. He had messed up. He had been stupid. And the worst part was, he was still stupid. He still missed you. Every day, every hour, every minute.
And now, you weren’t even here. Osamu had made sure you weren’t invited to this party—out of respect, he’d said, because things were still too tense.
Suna found his way to the drink table, needing something to calm the chaos in his mind. He grabbed a beer, but it didn’t do anything to stop the ache in his chest.
“Yo, Suna!” Atsumu’s voice called from across the room. Suna blinked and turned, seeing Atsumu waving him over with a grin plastered on his face. Suna didn’t even feel like putting on a fake smile. He just walked over, glass in hand.
“You finally show up? Thought you were gonna sit this one out,” Atsumu teased, already clearly a little drunk. His eyes had that gleam to them, like he was expecting Suna to join in on the fun.
Suna grunted in acknowledgment, taking a long drink from his cup before speaking. “Needed a distraction.”
Atsumu gave him a curious glance, but shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. Everyone’s out here living it up. No one’s got time for feelings tonight.” He gave a loud, exaggerated laugh.
Suna didn’t join in. The weight of you—of everything that had happened—sat on his chest. But he wasn’t about to spill that to Atsumu. Not here, not now.
Atsumu glanced around the room, then turned back to Suna. “I gotta admit, though, man,” he started, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re a hell of a lot quieter than usual tonight. Maybe because of her?”
Suna stiffened at the mention of you, but didn’t respond immediately. He took another sip of his drink, hoping to drown the knot in his throat.
Atsumu, noticing the silence, laughed again, but it was a little more knowing this time. “Yeah, I know, man. You and [Name]. That was… something, huh?”
Suna clenched his jaw, not wanting to open that door, but Atsumu didn’t seem to care. He was too drunk, too comfortable, and too eager to make his point.
“I get it, you know,” Atsumu continued, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You pushed her away. I was there. I saw it. You said you didn’t need her anymore. And now you’re all mopey about it.”
Suna’s stomach twisted at the words. He didn’t need to hear this. He already knew he messed up. He was already paying for it.
But Atsumu was still going, oblivious to the way Suna’s frustration was building. “Man, I don’t get why you’re acting like this now. You had your chance. And now, I’ve got my chance.”
Suna’s eyes snapped to Atsumu. “What are you talking about?”
Atsumu didn’t miss a beat. He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “You heard me. I always liked [Name], you know. Even when you were with her. I didn’t say anything because I respected you, man. But now? Well, I guess it’s my turn.”
Suna’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles going white. His heart raced, and anger began to rise in his chest. He wanted to say something, do something—anything—but the words were stuck in his throat.
“Stop it,” Suna finally spat, his voice low. “Don’t act like you have any right to do that. You were always in the background, Atsumu. You never cared about her the way I did.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “I think I care a hell of a lot more than you ever did. At least I don’t pretend to push her away when I don’t mean it. You ended it, man. You made your choice.”
Suna’s blood ran hot. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know more than you think,” Atsumu shot back, eyes narrowing. “You let her go. You made that choice. And I’m the one here that’s gonna make things right with her.”
Suna’s heart pounded, his hands shaking from the mixture of alcohol and anger. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
But Atsumu didn’t seem to care about the warning. He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Too late. She’s already been talking to me. And honestly? You had your chance.”
Suna’s chest tightened, like someone had just pressed a hand over his heart. He wanted to yell, to scream, to get his point across, but everything felt like it was slipping away from him.
“You’re not going anywhere near her, Atsumu,” Suna said, his voice quiet now. His fingers dug into the edges of the cup, the plastic crumbling under the pressure. “She’s not some prize for you to win.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Relax, man. I’m not gonna screw this up. You already did.”
Suna couldn’t take it anymore. The anger that had been bubbling under the surface exploded, and before he knew it, his fist was in the air, swinging toward Atsumu’s chest. It was a sloppy punch, the alcohol in his system making everything feel off, but it landed hard enough to make Atsumu stumble back, surprised.
“Hey!” Atsumu shouted, pushing Suna back with a shove. “What the hell, man?!”
Suna stood his ground, chest heaving with frustration, his pulse racing. “I don’t care if you think you’re in the right, Atsumu. You don’t get to just—”
“Don’t make this about me,” Atsumu cut him off, throwing a right hook at Suna harshly. “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”
Suna steadied himself, still feeling the sting of the punch. His breath came out in uneven gasps, his body buzzing with adrenaline and alcohol. But he wasn’t done. Atsumu stood there too, just as messed up from the fight, but neither of them was ready to back down. The alcohol had blurred their thoughts, making it harder to tell where the line between play and anger was drawn.
“Get up,” Atsumu said, pushing Suna lightly, as if daring him to start another round.
Suna glared, wiping the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. He could barely focus, but the anger inside him was still burning. “You think you're tough? Let’s go again.”
Before Atsumu could say anything, Suna lunged, swinging at him again. Atsumu barely had time to react as Suna’s fist grazed the side of his cheek.
“I’m still standing, don’t think you’ve won yet!” Atsumu growled, throwing his own punch that landed squarely in Suna’s chest. The impact was enough to make Suna stumble back but not fall.
The two of them were laughing, though it wasn’t out of humor—it was frustration, raw and real. The sounds of their breathing, their slurred words, and their uncoordinated movements were a strange mix of intensity and play. They were both drunk, both angry, and both missing something—someone.
Suna gritted his teeth, still reeling from the punch, but he wouldn’t back down. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he slurred, smirking through his pain.
“Oh, trust me, I will,” Atsumu sneered, stepping forward. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but the alcohol only made his confidence grow.
Suna darted forward again, this time more recklessly, throwing another punch at Atsumu’s side. Atsumu caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it and forcing Suna to step back, but Suna gritted his teeth and shoved him off with a sharp push.
“Damn it, Suna, stop being so stubborn!” Atsumu growled, swinging again, landing a punch to Suna’s side. The blow made Suna cough, but he barely flinched.
“Look who's talking,” Suna retorted, wiping his mouth. “You don’t get to lecture me. You think I don't know what you want? You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you act around her?”
Atsumu’s eyes darkened, the anger now mixing with something else—something deeper. “And what, huh?” He shoved Suna again, this time with more force. “You want to blame me for everything? You’re the one who fucked up with her. Not me. I didn’t do shit!”
Suna felt his chest tighten. He knew Atsumu had a point, but it still hurt to hear. "I didn’t do shit either," he muttered under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. “I should’ve… I should’ve fought for her. Instead, I pushed her away. Now look what I’ve got. Nothing.”
The room felt heavy for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two stood there, glaring at each other, breathing hard.
Then Atsumu shook his head, letting out a drunken laugh. “Damn, you’re such a loser, Suna.”
Suna's expression shifted, not from offense but from exhaustion. He wasn’t tired of the fight, he was tired of carrying this weight. The one he had pushed away. The one he had taken for granted. He didn’t care about the stupid brawl anymore.
You rushed into the room, heart pounding, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight before you. Suna was on the floor, a bit dazed, his lip split and bruised, his hair falling messily around his face. Atsumu was standing over him, hands raised like he was still ready to throw another punch.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” you exclaimed, voice laced with panic and disbelief.
Suna was barely registering your presence, his eyes unfocused, swaying slightly. Atsumu looked startled, realizing you had caught the scene, but there was still tension between him and Suna, like the argument was far from over.
Atsumu stepped back, glancing over at you with an awkward, defensive grin. “It’s not what it looks like, [Name],” he muttered, hands raised in mock surrender.
You shot him a glare, eyes flicking from him to Suna, who was still on the ground, now rubbing his sore jaw. His face looked tired, but there was a sadness behind his eyes that wasn’t just from the fight. Your chest tightened. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the fight—it was something deeper.
“Suna…” you whispered, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands hovering around his shoulders, unsure of how to help. “What the hell, you’re bleeding…”
Suna’s gaze slowly met yours, and for a split second, it felt like everything else faded away. He blinked a couple of times, his expression shifting from confused to something almost vulnerable.
“Guess I’m a mess,” he mumbled, trying to joke, but his voice was rough, and he couldn’t hide the regret that crept into his eyes.
You didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the Suna you remembered—the confident, distant guy who always acted like nothing phased him. This was someone who had been knocked down, physically and emotionally. Someone who wasn’t sure how to deal with what he’d done.
You sighed softly as you helped him up, his body leaning heavily against yours. He was drunk, disoriented, and still a little dazed from the fight. With careful steps, you guided him through the hallway, away from the noise of the party, until you reached the bathroom. You nudged the door open with your shoulder, and gently helped him sit down on the toilet, his body sagging with exhaustion.
"Stay here for a second," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended, but you didn't have the energy to sound stern. You didn't know what to say to him right now, but you didn't want to leave him alone, either.
Suna leaned back, his head resting against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at nothing in particular. He let out a slow exhale, looking like he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.
You turned away, grabbing a damp washcloth from the sink and walking back over to him. The moment you were close, you could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the pained look in his eyes, as though he didn’t quite know what had gotten him to this point.
"You're a mess, you know that?" You said softly, dabbing the cloth against his split lip, trying to stop the bleeding. He winced slightly, but didn't pull away.
"I know," Suna mumbled, voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, [Name]."
You paused for a second, your hands still on his face, and glanced up to meet his eyes. There was something there—a vulnerability he usually hid so well. "Don't apologize," you muttered, even though you felt like you should say more. You couldn’t find the right words, so you simply focused on wiping away the blood from his lip.
There was a heavy silence between you two, and you could hear the muffled sounds of the party outside, but inside this little bathroom, it was just the two of you.
You gently wiped the corners of his mouth before dropping the cloth in the sink and turning back to him. “Just… stay here for a while, okay?” You added, looking down at him, his messy hair sticking to his forehead as he slumped forward slightly.
Suna didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded, eyes closed again, as though the moment was enough to drain him further. You sighed, running a hand through your own hair. Part of you still wasn’t sure why you were doing this, why you were helping him so easily after everything, but another part of you—some part you couldn’t quite shake—just couldn’t stand to see him like this.
After a while, you stepped away, leaning against the counter. “You’ll be okay,” you added quietly, more to yourself than to him.
Suna’s quiet reply made your heart ache more than it should’ve. "I hope so."
You looked down to notice his shaking hands, his knuckles cracked and raw from the fight. A small frown tugged at your lips, your heart sinking at the sight. Without a word, you walked over to the mirror cabinet above the sink, opened it, and grabbed a few band-aids.
“Here…” you said softly as you returned to his side, kneeling down in front of him. You gently took his hand, his fingers cold and unsteady, and carefully placed the band-aids over the cracked skin of his knuckles. The soft motion felt strangely intimate, your hands working to tend to him, even if he didn’t fully deserve it.
Suna’s eyes were half-lidded, lost in thought, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak either, just let you work, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him.
When you finished, you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. "You should take care of yourself, Suna. I know you’re not… okay."
He didn’t respond immediately, just looked at you with that tired expression, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you two in that look. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone see him like this—vulnerable and cracked, the mask he usually wore slipping.
He finally let out a small, resigned sigh, his voice quiet. "I know."
You stood there for a second, unsure of what to do next. You hadn’t planned on this—on him being like this—but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him, not when he was like this.
You start to head out of the bathroom, trying to give him some space to breathe.
You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the handle as you heard his voice—so quiet, almost swallowed by the silence of the room. His words hung in the air, like a secret he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit, but couldn’t stop from escaping anyway.
"[Name]… I really do miss you."
Your heart twisted in your chest, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything was still so messy and unresolved between the two of you. The memories of the past—of everything that led to this moment—flooded your mind, and for a second, you almost forgot to breathe.
But then his voice broke the silence again, this time quieter, almost self-mocking.
"That’s just the alcohol talking."
You closed your eyes for a brief moment, feeling a pang of sadness and frustration. You wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just stood there, your back to him, and let the silence settle between you.
Suna’s confession hung in the air, lingering like an unspoken truth neither of you were brave enough to face fully. The alcohol was speaking, yes, but maybe there was truth in it too. Maybe the weight of everything he’d been avoiding had finally caught up to him, and now, in the quiet of the moment, he couldn’t deny it.
You took a slow, shaky breath, finally turning to face him. You didn’t want to show him how much his words had affected you. Not yet. "I’ll get you water," you said, your voice steady, even though inside, you felt like a storm was brewing.
You turned back just as Suna’s hand reached out towards you. His fingers trembled slightly, his bruised knuckles a painful reminder of the chaos from earlier. He winced as his hand straightened, as if the simple motion hurt more than it should. His eyes were locked on yours, though there was a quiet vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen in a long time.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed like a chasm, but Suna’s outstretched hand remained, as if he was waiting for you to bridge that gap.
You hesitated, but the longing in his eyes made you pause. The familiar ache in your chest only deepened, and you found yourself stepping closer without realizing it. You reached down, your fingers brushing his lightly at first, then holding his hand gently, avoiding the tender spots on his knuckles. His hand was warm against yours, despite the tremor running through it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.
"Don’t do this," you whispered, voice barely above a breath. It was more of a plea to yourself than to him, but the words still felt heavy. You had been trying so hard to move forward, to leave everything behind, but somehow, in this moment, it felt impossible.
Suna’s expression softened, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave a quiet, almost broken sigh, squeezing your hand ever so slightly. His gaze dropped to where your fingers were intertwined, a faint sadness clouding his features.
"I messed up," he muttered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. "I… I didn’t know how to fix it, and I still don’t."
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, making your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wanted to respond, wanted to tell him it was okay, or that he didn’t have to explain himself. But the truth was, you didn’t know what you wanted to say. You didn’t know how to navigate this fragile space between the two of you, or if you even could.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a moment suspended in time, a brief interlude where everything—past and present—seemed to converge. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his hand in yours, unsure of what the future might hold but reluctant to pull away.
Eventually, you pulled your hand back slightly, but you didn’t let go completely. You could still feel the warmth of his hand, even with the small space that had formed between you.
You walked out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you almost reassuring in its quiet finality. It didn’t take long to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, but by the time you returned, you could feel the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. Everything felt suspended, like you were standing at the edge of something, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.
When you walked back into the bathroom, Suna was sitting on the edge of the sink, staring down at his hands, lost in thought. His posture was slouched, his shoulders heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you. You placed the glass of water on the counter with a soft clink, and he lifted his gaze slowly, eyes tired but still holding that quiet, unreadable look.
"I need to go home, it’s late," you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat. "You should too."
Suna didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickered to the water and then back to you, the silence stretching between you two like an unspoken question. You could see that he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come, and for a moment, neither of you moved.
Finally, Suna exhaled sharply, standing up slowly from the sink. He took the glass of water you’d set down and drank from it, eyes fixed on the counter as he swallowed. After a moment, he lowered the glass, the tension in his shoulders still obvious, but now there was a quiet acceptance in his expression.
"Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I should probably head out too."
He didn’t look at you as he turned towards the door, but you could hear the weight in his footsteps as he moved, and it struck you that he wasn’t just talking about leaving the party, or even the house. He was talking about something deeper—about the way he’d been avoiding everything that had caught up to him tonight.
Before he reached the door, you stopped him, your voice catching in your throat.
"Do you want me to… walk you home?" The question felt strange leaving your mouth, and you regretted it almost immediately. You weren’t sure what the right thing was to do anymore.
But Suna turned back toward you, his face softening. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stood there, the space between you feeling smaller than it had in hours.
"I should be the one saying that," he said after a moment, lightly laughing, but there was a quiet sincerity to his tone. "Thanks though."
You nodded, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t push it, letting him leave quietly, as though this was the way things had to end for now. There were still so many unsaid things between you, but for tonight, you’d let the silence do the talking.
As you watched him walk out, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t finished—not yet. But for now, you would let him go.
—-----
Suna slowly sat up, the light pouring in through the cracks in the curtains stabbing into his tired eyes. Groaning, he buried his face into the pillow, desperate to block out the world. His head was pounding, every throb a reminder of the wild night before. His body felt like it had been run over, and the dull ache in his chest only added to the chaos of his mind.
Everything about last night was a blur. Bits and pieces came to him in flashes—yelling, fighting, alcohol, Atsumu’s face, his own words slipping out before he could stop them… and then you. He remembered you.
But, what happened after? That part was foggy. He winced as he rubbed his chest, the lingering soreness of the punches he'd thrown still there. His lip felt swollen, his hands ached like they had been in a vice. He opened his eyes, glancing down at his knuckles. They were bruised, cracked.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked around the room, trying to make sense of where he was. It took him a moment to realize he was back at his place, on his bed, still wearing the clothes from last night. The faint scent of alcohol hung in the air, and his throat felt dry, like he hadn’t had a drink in hours.
He ran his hand over his face, the hangover still tight around his skull. Last night… it wasn’t just about the alcohol. Something in him had snapped—something he hadn’t been able to keep buried any longer. He could barely remember the details, but he knew what had been at the heart of it all. You.
Last night had been a mess—a blur of words he shouldn’t have said, a fight he never should’ve started, all of it centered around you. You, who he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
He clenched his jaw, feeling the ache in his body from where he’d thrown punches, his hands still tender from the fight. Atsumu’s voice echoed in his mind: “You broke up with her. You let her go. You can’t get mad at me for moving on.”
But it wasn’t that simple, was it? He hadn’t wanted to break up with you. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He’d just—he didn’t know how to deal with it all, with the way you made him feel, how much he needed you but was too stubborn to admit it.
Stupid. So stupid.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much of an idiot he’d been. He’d shoved his feelings down for so long, convinced himself that he didn’t care, that it was better this way. But last night had proven how much of a lie that was. When he saw Atsumu looking at you, talking to you like it was nothing, jealousy had torn through him like wildfire.
He wanted to punch himself for not realizing sooner. He had pushed you away, made all the wrong choices, all because of his stupid pride. But now? Now, he couldn’t ignore the fact that every moment without you felt like he was losing a part of himself.
He groaned, his head throbbing harder as the memories of last night played in his mind like a broken record. Atsumu’s angry face, his words cutting deep, and then you, walking away.
Suna let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the bed. He stumbled slightly, his body still not fully cooperating with his brain. His hands ached, and his chest felt tight with the guilt of it all. You’d been the one person who actually mattered to him. The one person he cared about more than anything, and he’d messed it up.
“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t just go back to ignoring it, pretending everything was fine. He had to fix this, but how?
He thought about last night again, the way you had looked at him when he spoke, the brief exchange before you walked away. Maybe you were done with him, maybe you had already made up your mind to move on, but he couldn’t—he didn’t know how to. He wasn’t ready to give up on you yet.
Suna paced in front of the door, his heart pounding as his hands fumbled with the doorknob. He had no idea what to expect once he showed up at your house, but he couldn’t let the fear of rejection hold him back anymore. If Atsumu really was making a move on you, then he’d lose his chance forever. He couldn't let that happen—not again.
His stomach twisted as he shoved his shoes on, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. The hangover still clung to him, but the anxiety gnawing at him was stronger. He was scared—no, terrified. What if you didn’t even want to see him? What if everything he’d done was beyond fixing? But there was no turning back now.
With a deep breath, Suna splashed his face with cold water, the chill of it cutting through the haze of alcohol still lingering in his system. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to do this. He had to face the mess he’d made, and he had to face you.
He paused in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His hands still hurt from last night, bruised and cut, a reminder of his stupidity. His lip was sore too—an angry red mark where he had taken one of Atsumu’s punches. Suna clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of regret. But that was all in the past now. What mattered was what he was about to do.
His chest tightened again, his heart thumping in his ears as he stepped out the door.
Suna stood there, his hands jammed deep into his hoodie pockets, his posture slumped as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for a brief moment, he considered just turning around and walking away. He was afraid—afraid of what you might say, afraid of how you'd look at him after everything he’d done.
But then you opened the door, your eyes meeting his. For a split second, he saw the concern flicker in your gaze, and it made his stomach twist. He hated that he had put that look there. He hated that he had been the one to make you worry.
"Are you okay?" Your voice was soft, tentative, as if you weren't sure how to approach him anymore. You looked at him like you weren’t sure whether to welcome him in or slam the door shut.
Suna exhaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t sure if he was okay at all. But he had to start somewhere, right?
“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t think I am.”
His eyes dropped to the ground, feeling the weight of his own words. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but the lump in his throat made it hard to even speak. He was scared. Scared of how you might react, scared that this was it—this was the end.
“I just—” He started again, shaking his head as if trying to get his thoughts to line up, to make sense of them. “I was stupid, okay? I was so fucking stupid and selfish, and I don’t even know why I—”
His words faltered, his chest tightening as the regret and guilt from the past few months all came rushing to the surface. “I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”
He finally looked up at you, seeing the confusion in your eyes, the hurt he had caused written all over your face. That look made his heart ache, but it also gave him the strength he needed to finally speak the truth.
“I miss you,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I miss everything about you. And I was too proud and too dumb to admit it. I shouldn’t have let you go. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”
He paused, watching as you processed his words. His hands still shoved deep into his pockets, but now his shoulders were a little less slumped. He wasn’t sure if this was going to fix anything—he wasn’t sure if it could—but at least he was being honest with you. At least he was finally admitting how much he messed up.
“I don’t know what else to say,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But I just—please don’t hate me.”
The silence stretched between you, and Suna held his breath, waiting for you to say something, anything.
You took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you spoke. "I could never hate you, Suna. But you pushed me away, and it really hurt." Suna's chest tightened at your words. You could never hate him? He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or guilty. Of course, you couldn’t hate him. You were kind, thoughtful, always willing to forgive. But that didn’t change the fact that he had pushed you away, and now here he was, begging for a chance to make it right. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. The weight of your words hit him harder than any punch. It hurt. He had known it, of course, but hearing it from you, feeling the quiet sting of that simple truth—he realized just how deep the damage went. "I know," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have acted like that. I was… scared. Scared of how much you meant to me, scared of being vulnerable, scared of losing you, and I thought that if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you left." He paused, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips, but it wasn’t a happy one. “How stupid is that?” Suna finally dared to look up, his eyes softening as they met yours. The guilt in his chest was suffocating, but now he felt something else—something almost like hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to fix this. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “I’ve spent so much time lying to myself, convincing myself I didn’t need you when deep down, I was just terrified of being left. I don’t know what happened to me, [Name]. I thought I was in control, but… I wasn’t.” He stepped forward, just a little, wanting to close the distance between you. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. I’ve already ruined everything, and I know it’s not going to be easy for you to just… forgive me. But I want to try. I want to fix this.” Suna's voice cracked, and for the first time, he felt a vulnerability he had buried for so long. “I want you back, [Name]. Not because I’m scared, but because I love you, and I should’ve said that when I had the chance.”
There, he said it. And now it was out there in the open. The truth. He had said it before, in fragments, but never like this. Never with this much weight behind it.
For a moment, there was only silence. The kind that made everything feel too big and too small at the same time. Suna watched you carefully, his chest tight with uncertainty, as you seemed to process his words. The air was thick with everything unsaid, and his heart raced. What if you didn’t feel the same?
Then, without warning, you stepped forward. Your hand reached for his, trembling slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. You looked up at him with eyes that were glistening, filled with a mixture of pain and something else—something he could barely comprehend, something that made his own heart ache.
“I… I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me again,” you whispered, the words soft but heavy. Then, before he could respond, you suddenly threw your arms around him, burying your face against his chest.
The sudden contact made Suna freeze for a moment, the heat of your body against his, your tears dampening his shirt. He wasn’t sure what to do, but then he heard you speak again, this time your voice muffled by his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve never blocked you. I… I was so hurt, but I love you, Suna. I love you too.”
Suna’s heart stopped for a moment. He hadn’t expected this, not this quickly, not after everything. He hesitated, his arms hovering by his sides, unsure whether he deserved this closeness, unsure if you meant it. But then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, feeling the weight of everything he’d been carrying—the guilt, the confusion, the regret—finally start to lift.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m the one who messed up. I hurt you, and I don’t deserve you, but I’m not going to let you go. Not again.”
You clung to him, shaking slightly, the sobs coming in quiet waves. Suna tightened his grip on you, his own chest tight, his breath shallow. It felt like everything he had been longing for, everything he had been afraid to admit, was finally here in this moment.
“I was so stupid,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I thought I could be okay without you, but I can’t. I don’t want to be without you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you whispered back, your tears soaking into his skin. “I just didn’t know if you still felt the same. I thought you… didn’t want me anymore.”
Suna gently pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, his hand reaching up to brush the tears away from your cheeks. “I’ve never stopped wanting you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just… I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when I lost you. But I was wrong. I lost you anyway.”
You shook your head, your hand gently cupping his face. “You didn’t lose me, Suna. Not if you’re willing to fight for us.”
He smiled softly, a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying lifting off his chest. He could feel the pieces of his broken heart slowly falling back into place. “I’ll fight for us,” he promised, his voice strong, his hands shaking just slightly as he held you close. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
And as you held each other in that quiet moment, Suna felt a warmth spread through him—something that had been missing for so long. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.
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#suna rintarou#suna x reader#second chance romance#second chances#exes to lovers#fan fic#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics#x reader#oneshot#angst#haikyuu fanfiction#fanfic#haikyuu#drinking#alcohol
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Squid Game 2’s second best toxic yaoi
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new story..
hello chat i am NOT dead!! but if yall fw squid game 2 check out my new book...
#x reader#fanfic#fan fic#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics#wattpad fanfiction#squid game#squid game 2#squid game season 2 spoilers#thanos
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Attack on Titan

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Eren
nothing here yet!
Mikasa
nothing here yet!
Armin
nothing here yet!
Jean
nothing here yet!
Connie
nothing here yet!
Sasha
nothing here yet!
Marco
nothing here yet!
Ymir
nothing here yet!
Annie
nothing here yet!
Historia
nothing here yet!
Reiner
nothing here yet!
Bertolt
nothing here yet!
Levi
nothing here yet!
Erwin
nothing here yet!
Hange
nothing here yet!
Zeke
nothing here yet!
Headcanons
nothing here yet!
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please read request rules before requesting ! :)
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Hi! Can you do a Monoma x reader, scented candle date that turns into a bath bomb date, which then turns into a shared bath time date?
otherwise, you can do a DIY pottery date if that sounds too complicated.
𝐂𝐎𝐙𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇 | Monoma x GN!Reader
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You and Monoma had been looking forward to this date for days, and tonight was finally the night. As you opened the door, Monoma greeted you with his usual grin. Before he could say a word, you wrapped him in a warm hug.
“Hi, baby!” you exclaimed, squeezing him tightly.
Monoma chuckled, his arms enveloping you in return. He held a bag of goodies in one hand, which he gently placed on the floor as he hugged you. “Hey there,” he said, his voice warm.
You stepped back, letting go of him but still beaming with excitement. “Come on in!” you said, leading him inside.
The soft glow of scented candles illuminated the room, their delicate fragrances of lavender and vanilla filling the air. The candles cast a gentle light that danced across the walls.
Monoma looked around, his smile widening. “Wow, this place looks amazing. Did all this for little ole’ me?” He fluttered his eyelashes jokingly, causing you to laugh.
“I wanted to create a relaxing evening for us,” you replied with a grin. “And I ordered your favorite!” You held up a bag from his favorite takeout place. Monoma’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, murmuring a heartfelt “Thank you.”
As you guided him to the dining table, Monoma said, “Thank you, honey. You’re very sweet for setting this all up.”
You both settled into your seats and enjoyed the meal, the candlelight creating a warm, intimate glow. The soft fragrances of the candles complemented the delicious food, making the entire evening feel special. You talked and laughed, finally savoring each other's company after a long period of separation.
After dinner, Monoma grabbed his bag of goodies with a mischievous grin on his face. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?” you asked, walking closer.
“I thought we could have some fun with these!” he said, pulling out a collection of colorful bath bombs from his bag. The vibrant hues and enticing scents of the bath bombs caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his playful excitement.
You both moved to the bathroom, where you had already set the stage with more candles and a cozy atmosphere. The candles flickered gently, casting a warm, calming light around the room. You started filling the tub with warm water while Monoma eagerly unwrapped the bath bombs, displaying them like treasures.
“Ready for some bath bomb magic?” Monoma asked with a grin, dropping a bright blue bath bomb into the tub. It fizzed and dissolved, releasing a burst of blue and a soothing ocean scent.
You giggled as you picked a bath bomb with a pastel swirl and tossed it into the water. “Let’s put this one in too!”
Each bath bomb created a different explosion of color and fragrance, turning the tub into a swirling, colorful spectacle. The water shimmered with shades of pink, purple, and blue, while the room filled with an array of delightful scents. You and Monoma took turns choosing and dropping the bath bombs, laughing as each new one created its own unique show.
When the tub was ready, you both carefully stepped into the warm water. The bath was just the right temperature, and the water was soothing against your skin. Monoma settled in behind you, and you both let out contented sighs as you relaxed.
As you both soaked, the flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over you two. Monoma wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “This is perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere.
You leaned your head on his chest, enjoying the close contact. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted tonight to be special.”
The bath became a playful and intimate space where you both could unwind. Monoma started a gentle water fight, splashing a little water towards you with a mischievous grin. You responded with a splash of your own, and soon you were both laughing and playfully dodging each other’s splashes.
Amidst the laughter, you both took time to simply enjoy the warmth and tranquility of the bath. You talked about your day, your dreams, and even reminisced about funny moments from the past. Monoma’s relaxed smile and occasional playful antics made the experience even more enjoyable.
At one point, Monoma grabbed a bath toy—a small rubber ducky you had floating nearby—and pretended it was a tiny pirate ship. You laughed as he made the ducky “sail” across the tub, narrating its adventures in a humorous voice.
As the water started to cool, you both reluctantly began to wind down. The playful energy gave way to a quiet, contented calm. Monoma squeezed your hand gently, and you both shared a tender smile, appreciating the closeness and the simple joy of the evening.
After drying off and wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels, Monoma pulled you into a gentle hug. “Tonight was perfect,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.
You smiled up at him, feeling happy and content. “I think so too.”
The night had been filled with playful fun and intimate moments, making it a date neither of you would soon forget. As you both prepared to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening together, you felt a deep sense of relaxation and happiness. A perfect day with a perfect boy—what more could you wish for?
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please read request rules before requesting ! :)
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I'm sorry I was interrupted this wrong!! if this is like horribly wrong let me know and I can try and rewrite it
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hey kitten… licks lips… i’m requesting 😝
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Monoma x Fem!Reader
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It was no surprise to anyone that Monoma had a strong dislike for Class 1-A, regularly belittling and taunting them out of spite. You were particularly aware of this, as he seemed to target you the most, often making you his prime victim whenever you were around.
You were certain he had it out for you, but what you didn’t realize was that Monoma actually fallen for you. He thought that by provoking you and drawing your attention, he might get you to notice him in return. After all, any attention, even if it was negative, was still attention in his eyes.
Monoma’s relentless taunting had become a daily routine. As a short-tempered girl, you often fought back against Monoma, resulting in frequent clashes that needed to be separated by Kendo. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you found it nearly impossible. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that taunting smirk off his face, though he found your face adorable during these exchanges when you’d cross your arms and furrow your brows at him, with an annoyed look etched on your face.
"Haha, why do you look so mad?" Monoma would tease, poking at you with a grin that only seemed to infuriate you more.
You’d groan and shoot him a look of frustration. "Why do you look like that?" you’d retort snarkily, causing him to laugh even harder.
The dynamic between you and Monoma was anything but ordinary. His provocations, though seemingly rooted in rivalry, masked his true feelings for you. Each snide comment and each mocking laugh was, in his twisted way, a way to draw you in. He had hoped that by irritating you, he would get you to notice him more, perhaps even to care about him in some way.
It was a frustrating cycle. Every day, you found yourself caught between your desire to ignore him and the irresistible urge to engage with his provocations. His taunts seemed to hit a nerve, making it all the more difficult to remain indifferent. Kendo, who often found herself playing the role of peacemaker, would regularly step in to defuse the tension between you two, often consisting of her knocking Monoma, apologizing before dragging him away.
Despite the antagonistic interactions, there was an undeniable undercurrent to your exchanges. The way Monoma would focus intently on your reactions, the way he seemed to derive a certain satisfaction from your every response—it completely infuriated you, but part of you found joy in these exchanges, finding the bicker amusing.
As the weeks passed, Monoma’s behavior became more nuanced. While he still taunted you, there was a noticeable shift in his approach. His comments, though still sharp, carried a hint of something else—something that was less about aggravation and more about trying to get under your skin in a way that felt oddly personal.
The more you interacted with him, the more you began to see glimpses of the person behind the mask of hostility. It wasn’t that his behavior became entirely friendly or accommodating, but there was a certain awkward sincerity that started to emerge. He would occasionally offer a begrudging compliment or make an effort to engage with you in a way that was less about confrontation and more about connection.
One afternoon, after another of his usual jabs, Monoma found himself alone, reflecting on his behavior. He had observed you from a distance, noting the way you carried yourself with a resilience that both impressed and frustrated him. It struck him then how much he admired your strength and determination. This realization made him question whether his method of drawing attention was really the best approach.
In a rare moment of introspection, Monoma decided he needed to try a different tactic. He approached you, not with the usual barrage of insults but with a more genuine attempt at conversation. His compliment, though awkwardly phrased, was sincere. “You did well today,” he said, his tone lacking its usual edge.
You were taken aback by the change. It wasn’t the typical antagonism you had come to expect from him. You looked at him with a puzzled expression, trying to reconcile the shift in his demeanor with the usual dynamic between you.
“What did you do to Monoma?” you asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow and adopting a mock-serious tone. “Did you get a personality transplant or something?”
Monoma blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your question. He gave you a confused look, as if trying to process whether you were joking or genuinely concerned. “Uh, no? I’m still me. Why do you ask?”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Well, it’s just… you’re acting all nice and stuff. Did someone put a spell on you or are you secretly a nice guy now?”
Monoma’s eyes widened slightly, and he scratched his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “I promise, no spells involved. Maybe I just figured out that being less of a jerk might be a good idea.”
You laughed outright at his attempt to explain himself. “Wow, is this a new Monoma era? Should I prepare for world domination or just get used to the idea of you being less insufferable?”
Monoma smirked, letting his teasing behavior peek through. “Hey, don’t get used to it. I might just go back to being a pain in the ass if you start enjoying it too much.”
You shook your head, still smiling. “I’ll take the nice Monoma while I can. It’s a refreshing change of pace.”
Monoma’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Good to know. I guess I’ll keep this up then—at least for a little while.”
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please read request rules before requesting ! :)
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#monoma neito#mha#mha x reader#monoma x reader#fem reader#reader insert#x reader#oneshot#fanfic#my hero academia#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics
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TW: mentions of death, torture, descriptions of violence and blood. this is not a relationship. i wanted to write something, and this is what i came up with (it’s almost 1 am). not proofread. i’m not sure if this is angst or a crime scene
life is a game to him; and you’re just a pawn. he was good at manipulating you, forcing you into his traps like a fly in a spiderweb. you’re the moth to his flame, his very hot, burning flame. you could do nothing more but stumble helplessly after him, desperately reaching for the bitter attention he violently gave to you, hoping maybe somewhere in his cold heart he loved you, while the rest of him slipped through your fingers like sand. he didn’t love you, he didn’t even hate you, he felt nothing towards you, an empty glass for him to fill with his selfish desires and toss when he was finished, he barely spared you a glance.
but he wasn’t finished, no, he was never finished. he was cruel, he was selfish. on a sinking boat, he’d save himself without a second thought, for all he cared you could drown. time goes slower and slower as you’re sucked into insanity, obsessed with a man who’s only real hobby is killing people. surely you’d know better, surely you were smarter than this.
as every minute ticked by, and you were hypnotized by the noisy beat of wings, squawking birds begging for freedom, pecking the feathers from each others backs. did a bird have more of a will to live than you did? you couldn’t help but tug on the bar that separated the creatures from life and imprisonment, watching as they instantly scattered out like sugar on a pastry. but they had nowhere to go. you watched as feathers fell and their tiny bodies froze and wilted away like a flower past spring.
maybe it was so horrible that you felt nothing, or maybe you were diluted by his god awful reign. in his blood red world, things died wherever you stepped, shriveling away and floating up into the air. if you blew only slightly on anything, it would die. and that’s just the way he liked it. or it was before. now that’s just too boring, he needs more, bloodshed, tears, he wants to watch you suffer while he kills you. he’ll even whisper how he loves you in your ear as you scream and writhe beneath him, begging to get free, just like those poor little birds.
but he never did that. he had no reason for letting you remain in his space. you were a distraction, a toy that wasn’t put back where it was supposed to be. yet he still cast his gaze upon you like a predator analyzing its prey. that’s all you were to him, prey.
and yet you were special. he’d done countless things to you, tearing you apart from the inside like a rag doll. he wanted to watch you crumple at his feet, pleading your life, begging him to let you go, your helpless “please, please don’t kill me.” and of course he wouldn’t. not until he watched you bleed. he wanted you to gasp for air, slowly wither away, so he could feel the sweet satisfaction of your death by his hands. you were special because, despite his brutal call upon your misery, you still stayed.
he’d brainwashed you, hurt you so bad, pain had become second nature. you were beyond recognition, destroyed, completely broken, and he liked it. he wanted more. he needed more. that’s why you were special.
and upon his throne, he stared down at you, an ant for his ant hill of victims. but you were the queen.
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𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐏 | Gojo x Fem!Reader
tw ; death and poorly written graphic scenes.
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Gojo cries out in frustration, his body slumped with exhaustion. For months, he’s been trying desperately to bring you back, but time and time again, he fails. He’s tried over 382 times, each in a desperate attempt to save you, his beloved wife, from the grasp of death. But no matter how many times he returns, Sukuna wins. He always wins. Every time he returns, you end up limp, lying in a puddle of your own blood, your eyes, once so full of life, now lifeless, reminding him of his failure.
The relentless cycle has begun to wear on him, fraying his once unshakeable resolve. Each time he rewinds, the pain of seeing you die anew is as fresh and unbearable as the first. The memories of your final moments haunt him with a visceral intensity—your eyes wide with fear and pain, the way your blood stained the ground, the chilling stillness of your once-vibrant form. He can’t escape the relentless torment of these images, and they compound with every failed attempt.
In this iteration of the loop, Gojo finds himself back in the dimly lit alley where it all happened. The aftermath of his battle with Sukuna lies scattered around him—debris, broken weapons, and the residue of chaotic energy. The alley is eerily silent, the air heavy with the lingering scent of smoke and blood. Gojo's breathing is ragged, his face streaked with tears and grime. He feels as though the weight of the entire universe has settled upon his shoulders, crushing him with its immense burden.
Desperation drives him to his knees beside your body, and he clutches his head in his hands, his sobs escaping in ragged gasps. He slams his fist against the cold, unyielding ground, the pain barely registering compared to the emotional anguish that consumes him. Each thud reverberates through his chest, mingling with the crushing weight of guilt and helplessness.
The memories of your last moments together replay in his mind with excruciating clarity. He remembers the warmth of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the way your presence made the world seem brighter. And now, all he’s left with are these fleeting, precious memories and the stark, painful reality of your absence.
“Why can’t I save you?” he cries out into the void, his voice cracking under the strain. “Why can’t I change this? I've tried everything—every strategy, every possible outcome. What am I missing? Why does it always end like this? What happened to me being the strongest? Why can't I be strong when it comes to saving you?”
The night sky above offers no answers. The stars, indifferent and distant, provide no solace. The silence of the alley is oppressive, a cruel reminder of his isolation. Gojo feels a profound sense of solitude, the weight of his endless failure pressing down on him like a leaden shroud. He's fought valiantly against Sukuna, explored every possible avenue, and yet the outcome remains the same.
Each attempt to save you has left him more weary and disheartened than the last. The cycle has become a cruel parody of hope, where each attempt to alter the past only reinforces his sense of futility. The weight of 382 failures bears down on him, each failure a knife twisting deeper into his heart.
But despite the overwhelming despair, a flicker of determination still burns within him. He knows that if he’s ever going to break free from this tragic loop, he must confront not only Sukuna but also the limitations of his own understanding and strength. He can’t accept that this is the end of his journey, that he’s doomed to watch you die forever.
With a heavy heart and a steely resolve, Gojo pushes himself to his feet. His body is bruised and battered, his spirit nearly broken, but his love for you drives him onward. He refuses to surrender to the despair that threatens to engulf him. He must find a new way, a hidden possibility he hasn’t yet uncovered.
As he steels himself for another attempt, Gojo casts one last glance at your lifeless form, his heart aching with every beat. He knows that each attempt brings him closer to the truth, but the cost of each failure is increasingly steep. He has no choice but to continue, driven by the hope that somewhere, somehow, there is a way to change the past and bring you back to life.
In the stillness of the night, Gojo’s resolve hardens. The battle is far from over, and he won’t give up until he’s uncovered the key to breaking this tragic cycle, no matter the personal cost. He embraces the pain and frustration, transforming it into a fierce determination to finally end the loop and save the woman he loves.
Attempt 383
Gojo's senses snap into focus as he emerges from the crushing void of the time loop. The familiar alleyway stretches out before him, marred by the shadows of countless failed attempts. You are there, alive and standing amidst the chaos, a sight that both invigorates and terrifies him. The briefest flicker of hope ignites within him, only to be immediately overshadowed by the crushing weight of past failures. His heart races with a mix of anticipation and dread.
He's been here 382 times before, each attempt marked by his desperate, relentless fight against Sukuna. Each time, he’s failed to save you. The memory of your lifeless body, so cold and still, haunts him. Every attempt ends with him unable to alter the tragic outcome. And now, as he sees you alive once again, he is driven by a fierce determination to make this attempt different.
With a mix of emotions within him, he has one thought on his mind: saving you.
Sukuna's menacing presence is not far behind. The malevolent aura fills the air as Gojo prepares for the inevitable confrontation. He's exhausted by every strategy, every maneuver, but this time he feels an unyielding resolve to make it work. The weight of every past failure drives him forward, fueling his determination to finally succeed.
The fight with Sukuna is fierce and chaotic. Gojo's moves are a blur of precision and power, his techniques executed with a desperate urgency. The alleyway becomes a battleground of light and darkness, a testament to Gojo's unrelenting will to protect you. He fights with a raw, unrestrained intensity, driven by the desperate need to save you from the fate that has befallen you so many times before.
Despite his best efforts, Sukuna’s power remains formidable. The battle stretches on, each clash of their abilities a testament to their respective strengths and weaknesses. Gojo's frustration mounts with every failed attempt to gain the upper hand, every moment where Sukuna seems to slip away from his grasp. The weight of past failures presses heavily on him, and the crushing realization that he may not succeed this time grips him with a cold, relentless hold.
As the fight reaches its peak, Gojo's focus is entirely on defeating Sukuna. His strategies are complex, his attacks relentless, but the familiar pang of inadequacy starts to set in. He can feel it slipping away—the success he’s so desperately fought for, the chance to save you. The battle is a chaotic dance of fury and despair, with Gojo’s hope wavering with every passing moment.
In a heart-wrenching moment of realization, Sukuna’s malevolent force overwhelms Gojo. The fight is brutal, and despite his best efforts, Gojo's strength begins to falter. He's driven to the brink of exhaustion, each blow from Sukuna a reminder of the futility of his struggle. The weight of his past failures and the fear of the inevitable final moment hang heavily over him.
Then it happens. A final, crushing blow from Sukuna sends Gojo reeling. The world around him blurs as he staggers, his body battered and weak. He turns desperately toward you, his heart shattering at the sight of your pained, bloody figure. The realization hits him with a devastating finality—he has failed again.
“No!” Gojo's cry is a raw, anguished scream that echoes through the alleyway. His voice cracks with the weight of his despair as he collapses to his knees, the once vivid hope now dimmed by the crushing reality of his repeated failures. He looks at you, his vision blurring with tears, and sees the inevitable outcome he’s tried so hard to prevent.
“Again! Again! I need to try again!” he cries, hitting his forehead against the concrete floor, tears pouring from his eyes and staining the alleyway. As he sits up, an overwhelming feeling of defeat swirls through him. “I need to try again!” he screams, sending himself back once more.
Attempt 384
In the alleyway once more, Gojo’s heart sinks as he sees you lying lifeless, a haunting scene he’s come to dread. Blood pools around you, staining your clothes and face with a terrified expression frozen in time. “Fuck! Again!” he cries out in frustration, tearing at the seams of reality as he restarts the cycle for yet another attempt.
Attempt 456
Gojo's hands tremble as he surveys the scene yet again. You lie on the ground, a haunting reminder of his endless struggle. Every attempt to change the outcome has ended in the same tragic result. “Why am I unable to fix this? Why can’t I save you?” he mutters, a deep sense of despair seeping into his voice. The crushing weight of failure drags him down as he restarts the cycle once more.
Attempt 689
Another attempt falls apart as Gojo watches helplessly. Your body is once again lifeless, blood staining the grimy alley. The look of terror on your face is etched into his memory, a constant reminder of his failures. He slams his fist against the wall, the frustration boiling over. “This can’t be happening again!” he shouts, his voice breaking as he plunges back into the cycle.
Attempt 812
He clenches his fist angrily as you fall limp once more, his eyes hollow, his body aching with exhaustion. “Why? Why? Why!” he screams, tears spilling out over his face and onto his cheeks. His body collapses onto the floor as he cries. “I need to try again. I can't give up on you,” he says to your limp body, blood seeping into his own clothing, as he restarts the cycle once again.
Attempt 902
Another desperate attempt to save you. He’s lost count of how long it’s been, but it doesn’t matter to him; you’re the only thing that matters to him. He needs to save you. He needs to. But it ends the same. You are once again sprawled in a pool of blood, the terror in your eyes as vivid as ever. Gojo's breath comes in ragged gasps as he looks at the destruction he cannot prevent. His voice cracks under the strain. “It’s always the same…” With a shuddering exhale, he restarts, each cycle a new level of anguish.
Attempt 1002
Gojo stands amidst the ruins of his thousandth attempt, staring at your bloodied, lifeless body. The hopelessness of his endless failures weighs heavily upon him. “I've done everything,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. Tears stream down his face as he forces himself to begin once more, the crushing reality of his despair almost too much to bear. This tiring cycle crushed his hopes, causing him to doubt more and more if anything will ever change.
Attempt 1003: The Final Attempt
Gojo steps into the alleyway for what feels like the millionth time. Each attempt has bled into the next, the cycle of failure, a relentless loop from which he cannot escape. This time, he feels a profound weariness settle deep within his bones. The sight of you, lifeless and bloodied, has become an unbearable ritual. The image has now tainted his memory of you, your once happy image becoming lost in the newfound, bloodied image of you.
The familiar scene unfolds before him. You’re lying in a pool of blood, your once vibrant eyes now dimmed with terror. The same pang of anguish strikes him as he kneels beside you. Every detail is the same: your clothes, stained and torn; your face, etched with the final, painful expression. His hands tremble as he reaches out, desperate to feel any sign of life.
“No…” he chokes out, his voice breaking. He desperately checks your pulse, but the lifelessness is a cruel reminder that nothing has changed. His heart pounds with a mix of fury and sorrow, the crushing weight of his repeated failures bearing down on him.
His body screams at him out of exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to just collapse. The relentless effort of fighting, failing, and trying again has worn him thin. His legs feel like lead, his arms heavy and unresponsive, each movement a painful reminder of his limits. The weight of his exhaustion is matched only by the weight of his despair, dragging him further into a pit of helplessness.
He tries to stand, but his legs betray him, collapsing beneath him. He doesn’t fight it though; he can’t save you, he’ll never be able to save you.
Sukuna’s laugh echoes through the alleyway. “Satoru Gojo? Surrendering? Do my eyes deceive me?” he taunts as he closes the space between them, Gojo too exhausted to even respond, his eyes refusing to leave you.
He can barely muster the strength to lift his head, his eyes meeting Sukuna’s with a final, hollow resolve. He looks back down at you, his lips moving slowly, struggling to form the words that have been on his mind through every failed attempt, every heartbreaking loop.
“I love you, [name],” he mutters, his voice cracking with a weak tone. Gojo's eyes flutter, the last vestiges of his strength waning as he braces himself for the end. The energy from Sukuna’s attack builds to an unbearable intensity, casting a stark, harsh light over the alleyway. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into an eternity as Gojo takes one last look at the scene of his failures and the memory of your smiling face.
Gojo opens his eyes, a serene warmth enveloping him as he lies in a field of vibrant flowers, the sun casting a gentle glow over his face. A smile tugs at his lips.
“So, this is the afterlife?” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. He frowns, remembering his last moments.
“No, it’s not,” you reply, your presence beside him snapping him out of his thoughts. Your fingers brush through his hair tenderly. Gojo's eyes widen in disbelief as tears begin to stream down his face. He sits up, staring at you, his voice trembling. “[N-name]?” he asks, as though you might vanish at any moment.
You nod, your smile tender. “You did good. Thank you for trying to save me.” Your words are soft and soothing, and Gojo’s tears flow more freely. You close the distance between you, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he croaks, a frown on his face, “I-I couldn’t save you, I failed.” His voice is muffled as he buries his head in your shoulder.
“No, you did good. Don’t forget that,” you say, holding his head against you. “You kept fighting just to save me, and that’s more than enough.” You say soothingly. He stays silent, his mind full of doubt, a crushing feeling of guilt overwhelming his sense of self.
“Do you want to go to the afterlife? I can take you,” you offer gently, your voice filled with warmth, noticing his distress.
Gojo buries his face in the crook of your neck, his voice muffled and trembling. “As long as you don’t leave me again,” he whispers, his voice cracking.
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please read request rules before requesting ! :)
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this is on my a03 and wattpad too
#x reader#fanfic#oneshot#fan fic#jujutsu kaisen#angst#major character death#gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#afterlife#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics
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𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 | Yuji x Gn!Reader
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You hear a knock on your door, and a rush of excitement surges through you. You spring up, eager to open it, already knowing who’s on the other side—your boyfriend, Yuji. The familiar sound of his knock brings a smile to your face and a flutter to your heart.
You fling open the door, and there he is, standing with his characteristic grin and holding a bouquet of paper flowers. “Surprise!” Yuji says, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “I thought I’d bring you something to brighten your day.”
His unexpected visit, combined with the lovely flowers, instantly lifts your spirits. You can’t help but beam with joy as you step aside to let him in. “You always know how to make me smile,” you say, reaching out to accept the flowers.
Yuji steps inside, wrapping you in a warm hug that feels like a comforting embrace. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “I missed you and thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”
As you take the paper flowers from Yuji, you notice the bandages on his fingers. Concern flashes across your face as you look back up at him. “What happened here?” you ask, gently holding his hand to get a closer look.
Yuji chuckles, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “Apparently, I’m not the best at using hot glue or handling paper,” he admits. “I ended up with a bunch of paper cuts and a few little burns. But it was worth it to see you smile.”
You can’t help but laugh softly at his mishaps, touched by the effort he put into the gesture despite the minor injuries. “You really went through a lot for these flowers,” you say, squeezing his hand gently. “Thank you. They’re beautiful, and they definitely brightened my day.”
Yuji’s eyes light up with happiness at your response. “I’m glad to hear that. I wanted to do something special for you, even if it meant a few battle scars along the way.” He grins, his affection and thoughtfulness evident in every word.
You smile at Yuji, your heart swelling with affection. Gently setting the flowers down on the table, you suddenly leap into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours and the comforting scent of him instantly soothe your frayed nerves.
“You’re the best,” you murmur, resting your face in the crook of his neck. The familiarity and safety of his presence make everything else fade into the background.
Yuji chuckles softly, holding you securely as he adjusts his arms to keep you close. “You’re wrong, though,” he says with a gentle grin, his voice filled with warmth. “You’re the best, love.”
He buries his face in your hair, the comfort of his embrace and the sincerity of his words melt your heart. Everything feels right because he’s here with you.
As you pull back slightly to look into his eyes, you see the genuine affection and care shining in them. The simple yet profound act of him coming over, despite the mishaps with the glue and paper cuts, speaks volumes about how much he values and cherishes you.
Yuji’s hand gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender and loving. “I’m just glad I could make you smile,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No matter what it takes, I’ll always be here to brighten your day.”
You smile, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love. “And I’m so lucky to have you,” you reply, your voice filled with emotion. “Thank you for everything, Yuji. You really do make everything better.”
He leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his smile never fading. “That’s what I’m here for,” he says, his tone full of sincerity. “To be your rock and make sure you always have a reason to smile.”
In that embrace, you feel a renewed sense of hope and warmth. The worries and frustrations of the day seem to melt away, replaced by the comforting reality of his presence and the love you share.
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please read request rules before requesting ! :)
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#short oneshot#oneshot#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#itadori x reader#slighting ooc#fanfic#fan fic#x reader#fluff#yuji x reader#yuji itadori x reader#ᐢ..ᐢ strwberrys fics
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new book
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I wrote an akaashi book, from Haikyu!! and you guys should check it out!!
LETTERS || k.akaashi x fem!reader
it's about reader who is hospitalized and has memory loss who gets given a box of letters addressed to her. It's not my usual style and the chapters of short but if it sounds interesting you should go check it out!
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masterlist
request rules
#akaashi#akaashi keiji#angst#wattpad#wattpad fanfiction#x reader#fanfic#haikyu#haikyuu#haikyuu fanfiction
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is this how i request…. uhhh larry excitedly showing u new bands in his room… idk i just want larry fics…
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 | Larry x Male!Reader
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The late afternoon sun filtered through the partially drawn blinds, casting soft rays of light across the room. You followed your boyfriend, Larry, with a mix of curiosity and amusement. His excitement was palpable, and he had insisted on a surprise that required a bit of secrecy. As he guided you by the shoulders, his hands gently covering your eyes, you could barely contain your anticipation.
“Lar, can I open my eyes yet?” you asked, trying to keep the playful tone in your voice. You could hear him shuffling around, maybe adjusting something or moving things.
“Not yet!” Larry’s voice came through with a playful edge. “I promise, it’s worth the wait.”
You heard him mumbling and moving things around, a few grunts of effort slipping through. Probably moving stuff out of the way on his floor. You waited patiently, feeling a mix of excitement and mild confusion.
“Alright, ready? Now! Ta-da!!” Larry’s voice burst with enthusiasm as he finally lifted his hands away from your eyes.
When you opened your eyes, you were met with a sight that took a moment to fully register. The room, which had once been relatively plain, was now a vibrant display of rock music history. Posters of bands adorned the walls, each one meticulously arranged. There was Spectral Wound, Darkthrone, and Weedeater—what he called the holy trinity of the metal.
You looked around, taking in the array of posters. Each one was a tribute to a band Larry had often talked about, their artwork capturing the essence of their music. You turned to Larry, who was beaming with pride.
“You brought me all the way here just to show me posters?” you asked, trying to stifle a laugh. The absurdity of the situation made it hard to keep a straight face.
Larry’s face fell slightly, and he looked at you with a mock hurt expression. “Hey, it’s not just any posters. It’s Spectral Wound, Darkthrone, and Weedeater! The holy trinity of metal. This is a big deal!”
You chuckled, unable to resist his enthusiasm. “I see, I see. So, you’ve turned your room into a shrine to the gods of metal. I have to admit, it does look impressive.”
Larry’s face lit up with a satisfied grin. “I knew you’d appreciate it! I’ve been saving up for these posters for ages. I found some of them in rare collector’s shops, and I finally managed to get them framed and hung up.”
You walked over to one of the posters, admiring the detailed artwork. “I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this. The way you’ve arranged them, it’s like a metal history lesson.”
Larry chuckled, moving closer to you. “Exactly! I wanted it to be more than just a bunch of posters on a wall. I wanted it to feel like a tribute to the bands that have influenced me so much. And of course, I wanted to share it with you.”
You glanced around the room, noticing the little touches that made it uniquely Larry. There were small figurines and vinyl records displayed on shelves, and a few well-placed LED lights added a dramatic flair to the space.
“It’s really cool, Lar,” you said, genuinely impressed. “I can tell you’ve put a lot of effort into this. It’s like your personal concert hall.”
Larry’s grin widened, and he reached out to give you a quick hug. “Thanks! I was hoping you’d like it. I wanted to make this place special, a reflection of what I love and who I am.”
You pulled back from the hug, looking at him with a warm smile. “I do like it. It’s very… you. And I’m glad you’ve made this space for yourself. It’s nice to see you so passionate about something.”
Larry’s eyes softened ever so slightly, and he gave a small nod. “I’m glad you think so. And I’m really glad you’re here to see it. It makes it even better.”
You stood together in the newly decorated room, the posters and memorabilia creating a backdrop to the moment. It was clear that this space was more than just a room; it was a reflection of Larry’s interests and passions, and it was something he wanted to share with you.
“So,” you said, glancing around, “what’s next? Are we going to have a metal listening party to celebrate?”
Larry’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Absolutely! I’ve got a stack of vinyl records I’ve been dying to play. We can crank up the volume and rock out. It’ll be the perfect way to break in the new setup.”
You laughed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it!”
As you settled in with Larry, the room filled with the sounds of powerful guitar riffs and pounding drums. The posters seemed to come alive with the music, creating an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and deeply personal. It was a night of celebration, not just of the new decorations, but of the shared joy and connection that music—and Larry’s enthusiasm—brought into your lives.
And as the music played on, you knew that this room, with all its posters and memorabilia, was a testament to Larry’s passion and the special bond you both shared.
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𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | Bakugou x GN!Reader
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“Soo, Bakugou, did it hurt when you fell?” you asked, peering over his shoulder with a wide grin on your face.
Bakugou barely glanced at you, irritation evident in his voice. “I didn’t fall, moron.”
You grinned even wider, wrapping your arms around his neck. “No, silly! I meant from heaven.”
“Get the hell off of me,” he growled, shaking you off. You had a tendency to do that—specifically to him—and it pissed him off. Couldn’t you get a hint?
Like that one time during training, where you wouldn't stop.
"Bakugou, is it hot in here or is it just you?" You laugh, as you got close to him. Before he could respond, you’d had already wrapped your legs around his waist and neck, pulling him into a choke hold. The sudden contact and your mischievous grin had caught him off guard. The next thing he knew, you both had tumbled to the ground, he ended up blowing up in your face—figuratively and literally.
Or the time when you were hanging out with Mina and Denki. The three of you had been enjoying some downtime when you’d clung to him, laughing loudly as he tried to push you away. Your laughter only seemed to make his annoyance grow. “God, can’t you get a hint?” he’d groaned, his palm against your face as he pushed as hard as he could. Your response was to laugh even harder, which just pissed him off more.
Today was no different. Bakugou was in the gym, pushing through his workout with his usual intensity when you strolled in, wearing an innocent mask on your face that was anything but. He could sense the mischief radiating from you even before you spoke.
You walked up to him, your grin barely contained. “Hey, Bakugou. I didn’t know you were such a fitness enthusiast. You’re looking pretty focused.”
Bakugou didn't even bother to look at you, not missing a beat in his routine. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you care. What do you want?”
You leaned against the wall, watching him with a mix of admiration and amusement. “I was just passing by and thought I’d say hi. Besides, I couldn’t help but notice how hard you’re working. Figured I’d come cheer you on.”
He snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Cheer me on? I don’t need your cheers. And you’re just here to mess with me, aren’t you?”
You laughed softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, come on. You know I can’t resist poking fun at you. It’s too easy.”
Bakugou gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his focus. “Just stay out of my way. I’m not in the mood for your games.”
You pouted playfully, though there was a hint of genuine concern in your voice. “You’re always so serious. Maybe you need a break. How about I treat you to a smoothie or something after your workout?”
His irritation softened just a bit, though he tried to hide it behind a scowl. “Why would I want a smoothie from you? I’m fine.”
You crossed your arms, still smiling. “Because I’m offering. And maybe, just maybe, you could use a little company. It’s not like you have to train all the time, you know.”
Bakugou’s resolve wavered as he glanced at you, seeing the genuine warmth behind your teasing. Despite himself, he found the offer tempting. “Fine. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you.”
You winked at him. “Deal. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As you left the gym to give him some space, Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that your presence, annoying as it was, had somehow made his day a little brighter. He pushed through his workout with renewed energy, a part of him secretly looking forward to the break you’d promised.
Later, as you met him outside the gym, two smoothies in your hands, Bakugou grabbed on, sighing. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”
You looked at him with playful grin. “One smoothie, just as promised. And maybe, just maybe, a little less grumpy?”
He took the smoothie, grumbling under his breath. “Don’t get used to it. I’m only doing this because you won’t stop pestering me.”
You laughed, linking your arm with his as you walked away. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As you dragged him along the sidewalk, your barrage of pick-up lines seemed relentless. "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears," you said with a grin, clearly enjoying his groans and eye rolls.
Bakugou huffed, his frustration evident. “Seriously, can you stop with the lame lines? It’s not funny.”
You laughed, unfazed by his reaction. “Oh, come on! You know you love it. Besides, you’ve got to admit, some of them are pretty creative.” You said poking at his annoyed face.
"No, no they really aren't," He groaned, pushing you off of him, you laughed once more.
"You know Bakugou, you're actually pretty fun to be around, and your reactions make it so much more fun to tease you," You said, leaning your upper body forward a little, pushing your free hand into your pocket.
Bakugou took a quick glance, his scowl softening for just a second before he replies, "whatever, you weirdo," he huffs, throwing his empty smoothie into the trash as you laugh throwing yours out too, "You're so funny Bakugou, and you know I love these little pet name of yours," you laugh, clinging onto him once more.
"Shut up," he groaned pushing you off, you back up your hands up defensively, "just for you, Bakugou." You wink teasingly at him, as he sighs once more.
Whatever he can tolerate you now, just a little bit.
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rubs hands together… write for my king kaidou 😼
𝐍𝐨𝐭-𝐒𝐨-𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫 | Kaidou x Fem!Reader
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In the bustling chaos of the school hallway, Kaidou’s attempts to come of cool and unbothered were nothing short of comical. He leaned against the locker with a forced nonchalant attitude, but his eyes betrayed him every time you walked by, flickering with a mix of nervousness and longing. Despite his best efforts to act aloof, it was glaringly obvious to everyone—and especially to you—that he harbored a deep crush. You played along with his act, feigning ignorance while basking in the gentle, unspoken affection that shimmered in his every glance and fumbled attempt at conversation. The secret was yours as much as it was his, and the way he tried so hard to keep his feelings hidden was the thing that lead to you liking him in the end.
The irony of it all made you smile, Kaidou was the kind of person who would often make grand gestures, and try and come of confident. Yet, when it came to you, he was nothing a flustered mess. You could tell that he wanted to keep his crush a secret, though he actions everyday betrayed him, but to make him feel better you decided to play along with his little act, deciding you're willing to wait until he's ready.
As you passed him, you gave a small wave, a smile plastered on your face. You could see his shoulders tense up and his body shake slightly as he waved back at you, a nervous smile on his face. You quietly laugh at the nervous boy as you walked into class.
Tuning out the lecture of class you couldn't help but think about Kaidou and his anxious behavior towards you. You found it adorable he was so nervous around you, and in the end it was lead to you liking him.
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It had been a month, and Kaidou was still going strong with his act, and you were still playing along. But you were getting sick of it, you just wanted him to admit it! You were getting majorly frustrated with him, you just wanted to take him out on cute little dates instead of playing this little play he's directing.
Determined to move things forward, you decided to make a plan to invite Kaidou over to your house. You hoped that a more relaxed, private setting would give him the space to open up. You envisioned a cozy evening where you could both unwind and, hopefully, he’d feel comfortable enough to let his guard down.
Plopping down on your bed, you sent Kaidou a message asking if he’d like to come over for a movie night. You kept the tone light and friendly, making it sound like just another hangout. When he agreed, you couldn't help but feel excited.
Setting up your room for the movie night, you grab snacks and drinks, choosing the movie and setting out some blankets for him. You chose a classic romance movie, first so he gets a hint and second he would be the only holding onto you during a horror movie, which doesn't really fit the troupe.
When the doorbell rang, you jumped up and ran to the door, opening it to find Kaidou standing there with a nervous but kind smile. “Hey,” he said, his voice having a tone of excitement.
"Hi Kaidou!" You greeted warmly, leading him inside to your room, offering him a seat on your bed. You could see that familiar look of nervousness in his eyes, causing you to smile.
"So!" You exclaim clasping your hands together, causing him to jump and look at you with a confused look on his face, "I was going to offer a movie, butttt I think we should play a little game first," you say, sitting next to him.
"Oh yea-yeah, what game?" He gulps as you lean a little closer, "maybe truth or dare?" You suggest, which he shyly nods in response to.
You lean back, a wide smile on your face, "perfect I'll go first!" You point to yourself, before pointing to him "truth or dare?" You ask him, he looks at you with a nervous smile, he cheeks bright red.
"Erm, truth- I guess?" He says nervously, scratching the back of his neck, you smile at him "Oo I have a good one for that! When were you going to tell me you like me?" You say casual, you watch him jump up, his face turning redder then before.
"How did you—where would—why would you think that?" He stammers, his eyes wide.
You laugh softly at his cute, flustered expression. With a gentle poke to his forehead, you tease, "I'm not that dense, you know? And you make it so obvious."
Kaidou blushes even deeper, the low confidence he had completely unraveling. He scrambles for words, but they seem to elude him. “I—well, I didn’t think it was that clear. I mean, I really didn’t want to make things weird between us.”
You smile warmly, enjoying the sight of his nervousness. “Kaidou, it’s okay. It’s actually kind of cute how you’ve been trying so hard to hide it.”
He looks at you, his expression shifting from nervousness to a mixture of relief and hope. “You’re really okay with this? With me?”
You nod, reaching out to hold his hand. “Absolutely. I like you too, and I’ve been waiting for you to be open about it. But I’m glad I made the first move.”
Kaidou’s eyes soften, a smile across his face as he takes your hand. "Thank you," he says, and you laugh "What are you thanking me for? Let's just watch the movie," You say, grabbing the remote.
He nods as he awkwardly wraps an arm around you while you start the movie. “It wasn’t Dark Reunion that gave it away, was it?” he asks shyly.
You laugh softly. “You’re so silly, Kaidou.”
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Sally Face

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