Uh Hi Im New Here But I Read Your Red Thing Of Nothingness And Could You Write A Alternative Ending Where

Indebted and In Debt (Vampire Kenma x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: lil idea I just had. Don’t know where I’m gonna go w it, if anywhere, but like y’all can read it if u wanna🥺👉👈 Enjoy!

Word count: 3631

        “Years ago, this museum was founded after the first sighting of a werewolf in Tokyo. He was spotted at midnight under a full moon just as he- Ma’am, please refrain from touching the artifacts.”

        Sheepishly, you pulled your hand away from a hip-high ancient wood carving of a mermaid, inching your way back toward the group as the tour guide fixed you with a dirty look. With a small huff, she straightened her shoulders under her Victorian-style overcoat that matched the rest of her gothic getup. An ancient London day dress made her seem as though she had crawled out of one of the many paintings on the wall that depicted Jack the Ripper as numerous supernatural creatures. The only thing that set her apart was the ID badge that hung around her neck. 

        As you returned to both of your friends’ sides, you avoided their shaming gazes and instead busied yourself with pretending to listen to the tour guide as she restarted her monologue. 

        “YN,” one of your friends, Akira, hissed, “you promised you wouldn’t touch anything!”

        “I didn’t!” you whisper-yelled back. “The lady stopped me before I could.” 

        At your half-effort to clear yourself of blame, Akira leaned her head back and let out a loud sigh. Kanna watched the interaction with a ghost of a smile on her lips, sniggering a little as she always did when Akira lectured you. 

        Both of your friends had invited you with them today as a celebration of passing your first semester of college together. Kanna had obtained the tickets in some way that went along the lines of “My dad’s brother knows the cousin of a guy who…” yadda yadda yadda. 

        Either way, you agreed to go with because, as expected, nobody was watching you and everyone had their eyes on them. Both of your friends were significantly beautiful, Kanna towering over you with long slim legs and hair that trailed down her back in waves while Akira stood just about at your chin, her hair chopped into a bob that never failed to frame her glowing eyes and constant frown. 

        Standing with them was like hiding in plain sight--an effortless camouflage. 

        You only realized you were lost in thought when Akira stalked back from the tour group that had managed to travel thirty feet ahead of you, her hand grasping your arm and dragging you back up to join them. When you returned you saw Kanna flirting with a boy who looked around your age and you distantly remembered him from your chemistry class. 

        Of course, he didn’t recognize you. 

        As the tour group made its way through the cathedral-shaped museum, stopping for a few minutes at a time for each exhibit of mythical beasts, your gaze darted back and forth between the ever-growing collection of sculptures and weaponry. 

        You remember being obsessed with the supernatural as a child, even getting into some intense arguments about whether vampires or werewolves were better, but at some point the infatuation had faded away into passing fascination--you were almost envious that someone had been able to preserve their own childlike spirit so much that they created an entire museum for it. 

        The outside of the makeshift cathedral looked exactly how you’d expect: towering spires with windows of stained glass depicting angels, suns, and crosses. The inside, however, was so juxtaposingly modern that it slapped you in the face the minute you entered. The walls were painted black with maroon accents, effectively maintaining a gothic theme. Though yellow lights embedded in the ceiling lit up each hall, brass sconces were still nailed to the walls, balancing two flickering candles each. 

        Everyone walked down a red velvet carpet that covered polished dark wood underneath and muffled their footsteps, the dull thumps somehow making the museum more ominous. Much like the exhibit you were in now, which was centered around witches, a single television hung at the far end of each exhibition room, ceaselessly playing a small, summarizing video of the creature’s origins. 

        As it murmured in the background about how witches and wizards were not the same thing, you inspected a broomstick that was supposedly owned by a witch from Salem. It floated in the air with two clear strings tied around either end just above a carved marble pedestal holding a gold plaque. The broom of Sarah Good, it read, caught and hanged in the Salem Witch Trials. Her descendants now live in New Orleans, the supposed location of a secret witch coven.

        You licked your lips thoughtfully, moving onto the next artifact with vested interest. The next was a cat skull and on its plaque it explained-

        Before you even got to read the words, you lost your footing and toppled over, crashing to the ground in a single heap of limbs. 

        Ow.

        Groaning, you righted yourself back onto your butt, inspecting the untied shoelace that had sniped you. Several gasps rose around the room, but not for you. 

        The wooden stand holding the cat skull balanced now on a single leg, tipping over in slow motion. Crap! 

        You tried to scramble up onto your knees to catch the fallen display but before you could, a form blew past you in the blink of an eye and caught it in its tracks, righting it back on its four legs before recentering the cat skull. 

        A chuckle left the museum worker as he spun back to face you, piercing green eyes observing your fallen form. Well, piercing green eye--the other was covered by a tuft of black hair, just as spiky and wild as the rest on top of his head. As he smirked, you could see a hint of his canines, looking sharp enough to cut through skin. You blamed the sight on the lighting. 

        And on the obvious supernatural fetish. 

        The man offered a gloved hand to you, the rest of his form draped in a velvet black trench coat, and as he pulled you to your feet, you glanced at his ID tag. Kuroo Tetsurou, exhibit handler. Of course he would be on the lookout for clumsy visitors such as yourself. 

        Good thing, too, because you were like a bull in a china shop. 

        “Thank you,” you mumbled, half-avoiding your gaze because you were embarrassed and half because you were never too good at handling yourself like a normal human when it came to attractive men. 

        “Of course.” He held your gaze and hand for just a tad longer than was socially acceptable before letting go and stepping back. “Though, perhaps stay a couple feet back when observing the artifacts.” 

        Those “fangs” had to be fake. 

        The worker left you with one last chuckle and a wink before walking away, hopefully to never see you ever again. God, that was embarrassing! A small pout grew on your face as you flushed deep red, refraining from hiding your face in your hands because you knew that’s what everyone else in the room expected from you--you figured you’d entertained them enough for one day. 

        While glancing around for a hole to bury yourself and die in, you realized your tour group was long gone. The witch exhibit wasn’t exactly packed with people so you could easily tell your friends were gone as well. 

        Muttering a small curse, you made your way through to the exit, flinching.  when the animatronic witch posed at the door cackled in your ear. 

        The dimly-lit hall was clear of people aside from a few stragglers searching for a room to inspect. As you made your way down the hall, voices floated out from each room, none sounding familiar. Each doorway had its own silver plaque positioned above, naming the topics of the room. 

        Centaurs. Genies. Unicorns.

        The tour you had gotten tickets for stated that it wasn’t going to go into every room in the museum, but it would brush over the most popular exhibits. And if there was one thing you remembered, it was that the newly-renovated vampire exhibit was the main reason the group you traveled with was so large. 

        The museum had added an artifact that bolstered their popularity greatly--the supposed sarcophagus of Kozume Kenma, one of the leading vampires of the Nekoma Clan. 

        Vampires. There!

        You speed-walked into the room, slowing your steps when you entered because you’d recently learned where traveling through an expensive exhibit without thinking would get you. 

        And yet, when you bursted into the room and saw a glimpse of Kanna’s black hair bouncing through the exit, you threw all caution to the wind.

        “Kanna!” You zipped in between the red ropes restricting visitors from getting too close to the paintings, darting around glass cases holding blood-stained cloaks and taxidermy bats while waving your arms like that would somehow catch the eyes of someone with their back turned. “Kan-NUH!”

        A wrinkle in the carpet launched you forward and you waved your arms wildly for balance. 

        If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have walked right out. You looked insane, like you were acting out your own rendition of monkey-turning-to-woman.

        Your fall landed you against a table where a sharpened blade sat, pointed upward for show. One hand slammed against the surface of the marble while the other, in your panic, slid just along the razor-sharp edge. 

        Shock came first and you flung your arm away with a gasp, stumbling back and crashing into what felt like another table. You reached your bleeding hand back blindly to stable yourself while the other reached up to press against your racing heart. 

        The pain was finally kicking in and the break in your palm began to drip down your hand, leaking blood with ease. Your hand shook so bad you could barely feel it, numb with panic as you gasped for breath. 

        Finally, when your gaze stopped wavering in sync with the pounding of your head, you glanced over at the sword display. No blood seemed to stain the blade, but a large sign hung just in the background stating PLEASE DON’T TOUCH!

        Definitely not a first for you.

        You looked over your shoulder out of instinct for just a second, wanting to see what sat on the table you currently leant on to see what other rules you were breaking, only to feel your throat close up at the sight. 

        A mummy sat in a polished black coffin, carved of wood with details of vines, leaves, and finally a cat’s yowling face carved into the latch that hung over the cracked-open space. A bloodied half hand-print sat right at the head of the body, coloring the mouth area red while the rest of the wrapping remained an aged white. 

        “Shit!” you hissed with panicked eyes, lunging back and away. “Shit, shit, shit! Oh, I’m so fucked.” A large sign, even bigger than the flatscreen that played the story of the first vampire, read DO NOT TOUCH OR APPROACH. SARCOPHAGUS IS EXTREMELY FRAGILE. 

        The three underlines of each word hit you like a freight train and you almost gagged. Unlike your other little slip-ups, this one would seriously cost you. 

        There was no way the coffin didn’t cost more than your apartment and college tuition combined, and you were already toeing the line of serious debt. 

        Do I tell someone? Do I not tell someone and let myself get caught?

        In terms of damage, the mummy looked totally fine. The small discoloring around the mouth was barely even noticeable from your ten-foot distance away, but the closer someone would get, the easier it would be able to see. Other random speckles of stains littered the wrappings, of course due to age, but in a museum for vampires? With red stains on the mouth of said vampire?

        Someone would see. Eventually. But according to the sign, no one would get close to it for a while. 

        Maybe you would escape this scot-free. 

        Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and fished for a band aid in your pocket. Injuries were common so you always kept some on hand. 

        “You’re gonna be fine, YN,” you mumbled to yourself, fighting to tear open the wrapper. Your hands were shaking so badly it was almost impossible and tears stung your eyes. “You’re gonna be fine. Just take deep breaths.”

        After five minutes of shaky fumbling and calm words, you finally just ripped the package in half and pulled out of the now-deformed band aid, slamming it over your wound and calling it a day. 

        Yesterday, you took four finals in four classes. Today, you damaged a fragile museum artifact that, if caught, would cost you thousands. 

        You were going fucking home. 

        You tossed your band aid wrapper in the trash with a huff, not noticing the single, stained paper fluttering to the floor just in front of the exit. 

                                +++

        Blood. Air. 

        Blood. Sweet, sweet blood. 

        Thirsty. Hungry. 

        Dark. 

        Pain. 

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Hoarse wheezes was all Kenma could manage as he lay stock-still on a soft surface. Pins and needles pricked at his every limb and he almost groaned in relief because it meant he was alive. 

        His tongue was heavy as a rock and was dry as sandpaper but he could still taste the sweet flavor on his tongue. Metallic-like, it was both nourishing and yet not enough.

        No, no. Definitely not enough. He needed more.

        Twitching his finger was an exercise that if he wasn’t completely dehydrated would have worked up a sweat. Moving the rest of his arm made him wish his death had lasted. 

        But someone had blessed him with blood, with life, and now he had a debt to repay. 

        Kenma wasn’t like Kuroo. He followed the ancient laws of vampires, now matter how outdated they were. Born-vampires had one code, and that was that whoever gave you blood and therefore everlasting life, was your master forever. 

        This was code. 

        Kenma thought of Kuroo and how he’d taken blood from all kinds of people, an action that would’ve been called taboo by the vampires of old. 

        Then Kenma thought of Kuroo alone and wondered just where he was. 

        It was completely dark, and each muscle he moved seemed trapped in the same position. A loud rip split the silence that previously mingled with Kenma’s wheezing as he reached up an arm and patted at his face. 

        Trapped. Stuck. Wrapped in something?

        “K…” Kenma tried to call Kuroo’s name, but even the first letter scraped at his throat hard enough that he gagged. 

        It was so dry. He needed more of the blood he’d given. 

        Just a drop would be a blessing. 

        “Ku…”

        But he had to get out first. 

        If he knew one thing about Kuroo, it was that the man was loyal. If he knew another, it was that he was also immortal. 

        Because Kenma followed the ways of the code, he was the right hand man of the Nekoma Clan. Kuroo was the leader, but he knew to protect his own.

        “Kuro...Kuroo.”

        The pain was irrelevant. His hand still scratched at his face, slowly yet desperately as he ached to tear away the cloth. To see light for the first time in centuries. 

        Footsteps echoed miles away, perking Kenma’s ears. 

        “Kuroo...Kuroo.”

        They drew closer and closer, ever so muffled through the wrappings that trapped Kenma in darkness. 

        “Kuroo...please.”

        A hand batted away the one Kenma kept patting over his face and Kenma heard the zing of a blade. 

        “Kuroo…”

        “Shh.” Kuroo’s voice urging Kenma to shut up had never sounded so melodic. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

        Kenma let himself relax, allowing Kuroo to cut through the thick cloths encasing his body like a cast. The latter cursed under his breath each time he sliced a bit too close to the skin, almost breaking it. 

        The process was long and painful. After coming back to life, Kenma suddenly had the urge to move, something he’d never had before. 

        Except he knew exactly why he needed to move. He needed to find them. Whoever they were. 

        Though eternal servitude was never exactly Kenma’s life goal, he knew it was an honor to be deemed worthy as someone worth eternal life. To be given such a gift was a sign that your life was meant to be spared. 

        When all the bindings split away and Kenma could open his eyes, a ringing burst in his ears accompanied by a pounding headache. He’d never known candles to burn so brightly, but maybe that was something of this new age. Or perhaps he was laying below a skylight. 

        Neither. The light source was a rectangular shape directly above, harnessing the light of a thousand white flames to make the room glow. It buzzed as well, or perhaps that was the few moths that flew around it. 

        “Kuroo,” Kenma reached a hand up to cover his eyes, “I have to-”

        “Shh.” The older hushed him once more before holding a cup to his lips. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

        The cup was dark and Kenma couldn’t see what was inside of it. Panic struck his heart and with a sudden burst of energy, he slapped the cup away from his face.

        “NO!”

        The cup flew, spilling clear liquid through the air before cracking against the floor with a splat. The older man in the room sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 

        “Kenma, come on. I know the dumbass laws and your dumbass willingness to abide by them. You know I wouldn’t force you to drink blood you didn’t want.”

        Kuroo was right. Kenma trusted him to not force blood on him and he trusted Kuroo not to try and bring him back either. Kenma wanted his revival, if it were to ever happen, to be of someone else’s desire to revive him. 

        He’d just… panicked.

        “I know.” His throat suddenly felt parched and sickly and Kenma returned his gaze to Kuroo’s face. “Could you…?”

        “Yeah, I’ll go get another one.”

                                +++

        “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

        “Just move over on the door, bitch!” you wailed, sobbing into your ice cream and curling deeper into your blankets as the movie drew to a close. Tears ran down your face and half a tissue box sat in numerous crumpled-up balls on your coffee table. 

        To be fair, a large majority of them came from when you first got home from the museum. After throwing yourself a pity party, you decided to give yourself even more reason to cry by watching the Titanic movie over a bowl of ice cream.

        Your phone sat beside the used tissues, occasionally lighting up with missed calls from your friends hours earlier. Texting felt like a waste of energy, and you could certainly tell them what happened tomorrow.

        If you weren’t being arrested for damaging museum property at that time. 

        Even the thought sprung another nervous wave of tears to your eyes and you clicked off the movie, searching for another story to bawl your eyes out to. 

        Three loud knocks cracked at your door, making you flinch. 

        Probably Akira and Kanna, worried out of their minds. 

        “Guys,” you stood up and turned on your living room lights before walking to your front door, “I promise I’m fine. Something just happened today that really-”

        But when you turned the knob, it was neither of your friends. 

        It wasn’t even female. 

        It was two guys, one looking vaguely familiar while the other was entirely unknown to you. 

        The first, significantly taller and with the same ruffled hair, was Kuroo. Just the sight of the museum worker made you want to jump out your window and onto the sidewalk ten floors below. 

        The other was shorter with blond hair just past his chin, the roots a dark brown. His eyes were glowing with a sort of anticipation but his face appeared otherwise bored. 

        Nerves began to dance under your skin and you shifted from foot to foot, your hand still on the door. You only realized you were biting your lip when both men drew their gazes to the action, and after that you immediately stopped. 

        “Uhh, y-yes?” You gulped and watched them both with flared nostrils, ignoring the way the blond’s eyes followed your throat. “Did you n-need something, offic- I mean sirs?”

        The familiar one’s lips quirked, something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched your anxious movements. Yet, he never said a word. 

        Instead, the blond one stepped forward, somehow looking uncomfortable in a red sweatshirt and black sweatpants. There was an air of seriousness around him even as his face gave off a feeling of nonchalance. 

        Here it comes.

        You tensed up your shoulders and closed your eyes, waiting for the words of your doom. 

        Instead, cold fingers grabbed the hand you had limp at your side and you felt a softness brush over the back. 

        You opened your eyes once more only to see a small smile with fangs peaking out as the blond pulled his lips away from your hand. 

        “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

        “What?”

Stoooop ushijima in the coming home post killed me 😭😭 I love big stoic guys who are actually teddy bears sndndnddn every one of the guys was cute but his part was my favourite 🥺

Aidnksncksksk yessss I love big scary guys being soft boys too🥰🥰 especially when it’s just for that one person they love😍 I’m glad you liked the post!!

Vibrating lightsabers? Heck yeah, count me in but lol, when you said Star Wars AU all I can think of is the Miya twins as Luke and Leia and it gets better, Ushijima and Oikawa doing that "You are the chosen one scene" with "You should have come to Shiratorizawa". OMG xD. Can someone draw me a fanart of that

Agsjhdjsjs yes someone please get on that.

“You should have come to Shiratorizawa”

“I HATE YOU”

And bruh, I’m conflicted on whether Atsumu or Osamu would look better with the hair buns... and the golden bikini🥵

Innocent Misunderstanding (Iwaizumi x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: Same old, same old. Got an idea and wrote it in the a.m. It was just a little idea, so it’s really short. I do hope y’all like it tho!

Word count: 619

        “Woah, YN, you’re walking funny! You two must have had a wild time last night.” 

       “Shut it, Shittykawa.” You flip off the man while your boyfriend tightens his supporting arm around your waist and gives his teammate a withering glare. The dull aching in your legs is still painful enough for you to grip your boyfriend’s shoulder a little harder than necessary. 

       “You’re so mean, Iwa!” The captain’s mocking whine echoes down the hall while he walks away, and girls slowly flock to his side with every step. After his back disappears in the distance, Iwaizumi grunts at your deathly grip. 

       “Jesus, YN, unclench a little, will you?” He desperately tries to wiggle away from your claws and you dig them in harder just to spite him. 

       “Stop moving, it still hurts you know.” His face grows guilty at your grumble but he remains silent, guiding you slowly to your desk. Small twinges of discomfort arise with every step you take, the pain originating from your pelvis and traveling downward. You weren’t sore, why would you be, it was just the fact that every time your feet touched the ground with even the smallest amount of pressure, your legs would start to tremble and tingle. You sighed in relief when your newborn-giraffe imitation ends with you collapsing elegantly into your chair. 

       “How are you feeling?” Iwaizumi takes his assigned seat next to your own and stares at you with worry. 

       “Like there’s a pain in my ass now.” You weren’t lying; the ache had now transferred into your tailbone. Shit, why did he have to push me so hard? I knew we should have stopped before it got really rough. His hand drops on your thigh and comfortingly massages the skin there. Meanwhile, his olive green eyes are filled with unease, and you decide to put the blame game on pause for a second. “I’m okay,” you avoid his gaze as a blush grows on your face, “it doesn’t hurt as much this morning.”

       “Good.” His pearly whites flash at you while he gives you a rare Iwa-grin. It was beautiful and blinding, and so endangered that you only caught one once every two weeks. That’s exactly why it flustered you enough to restart the game. 

       “I told you we shouldn’t have jumped on the bed last night, though.” Leaning back in your chair, you busy yourself with picking at your fingernails disinterestedly while Mount Iwaizumi slowly prepares to erupt. 

       “You’re the one who started the pillow fight!” The volleyball player frustratedly whisper-shouts at you. The rough hand on your thigh squeezes irritably and you slap your own on top of it, pressing it down to prevent any more movements.

       “Well you’re the one who pushed me off the mattress!” The repartee ends when your boyfriend clenches his jaw and seethes silently, receiving dirty looks from you and returning them with ease.

       The squeaks of someone’s tennis shoes entering the classroom are ignored in favor of you both opening your mouths once more, armed with new retorts. 

       “So, long night huh?” A smug voice sounds behind you, and the already high tensions burst through the roof. Thankfully, both sides of the war finally agree on a single reaction.

       “Shut up, Oikawa!”

I loved your atla and lok stuff and I was wondering if you still write for them and if you do are you taking requests RN? Have a good day!

Hmmm, I haven’t written for that fandom for a while, but I wouldn’t mind writing a nice Zuko or Sokka fanfiction here or there👀👀

We can totally discuss any ideas you have! I’d love to see ‘em

Your fic is so damn good!!! It is made my dayyy~ Thank youu really 🥺🥺❤❤❤

im not sure which fic ur talking about, but either way im glad u enjoyed it!!

I have been dying to find out what happens next in reborn, are you still planning to continue it?

Yep, next few chapters are planned, and now that summer’s here, it looks like I’ll get a little time to get started on em!! Glad you like it🥰

HII I JUST WANTED TO SAY REBORN IS SO SO SO AMAZING!!! I love it sm I swear I’ve read it at LEAST 5 times now!! Thank you for creating such amazing stories, I’ve even gone read the ones about fandoms I know nothing about because you’re writing is so INCREDIBLE!!!!!! 💞💞💞

akcnkdndksndn this comment is so freaking sweet and I ain’t gonna forget it ever🥺☺️ I’m glad you’re liking what you see!!💜🥰

Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) ~Chapter 1~

(Supernatural/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: This is gonna be a series if y’all want it, or it could die right here right now. Either way, I hope y’all like it!

Word count: 5771

        You were just as beautiful as when he had first met you eight centuries ago. The too-small apartment you bumbled around in was just outside the university’s campus so you could get to your early morning classes, and resided about two miles away from your horrible job so you could travel to work easily too. 

        Through your window, he could see you singing a tune shyly under your breath, still new enough to living in an apartment that you didn’t know whether your neighbors could hear you. The clangs from the dishes you placed into your cupboards hurt his ears, even though he was a few hundred feet away on another complex’s dusty rooftop. There was a gentle smile on your face that sped up his heart, and a lively glow in your eyes that made him hold back a giggle. Your skin looked so soft too-

        “What’s she doing?” A dull voice hummed behind the older, more energetic man. 

        “The dishes, just like every other Thursday,” he responded cheerfully, peeling his gaze away from the telescope and swiveling to his friend. “She’s putting away the knives.” 

        “She’s gonna hurt herself.”

        “No way,” the older shook his head, “she handles knives just as well as she has in her past lives.”         “Yeah, but this round she’s seriously clumsy. It gives me a headache.” The black-haired male shoulders past his companion to glance through the spyglass. He sighs at the event he witnesses. “There, see? She just cut herself.” 

        “Oh shit, let me see!” The erratic man pushes his aloof friend aside to watch you, scared you had been seriously injured. It doesn’t take long before the sight of you takes its effect, and he feels his canines piercing through his gums. You were bleeding.

        Inside your apartment, you hiss against your teeth while gingerly dabbing a tissue against the finger you had sliced open. Anxiously, he gulps before pulling away from the scope and turning to his friend. 

        “I guess we’ll just have to watch over her even more this time.”

        “No kidding.”

        Both men loved you. Both men needed you. And soon, both men would have you. 

                                ~~~

        University, you decided, was going to be a blast. You had a wonderful job at a little diner, many classes that interested you, and a cheap apartment that cost almost nothing compared to how wonderful the size and interior of it was. 

        There was only one small downside: everywhere you went, it felt like a pair of eyes was constantly watching you. While you did your homework, while you slept, while you traveled to class, it was terrifying. Someone was watching you; the only question was who? 

        “YN!” A voice frightens you out of your daze and you turn to find the voice. It’s Sakura, the only friend you’ve made since you’ve been on campus so far. Her long, black hair tumbles down her shoulders in wavy locks, and it brushes the waistline of her drastically-mini skirt. Most of her toned stomach is showing, but the neon orange crop top she’s wearing isn’t really doing her any favors. In a word, Sakura was… voluptuous, even though she stood about a petit four inches  below you. She certainly knew how to flaunt her assets, anyway. 

        You, on the other hand, accepted your collegiate fate instantly. Hiking your hefty backpack up higher on your shoulder, you tried not to feel like a potato sack standing across from her in your plain, maroon sweatshirt and black yoga pants. While she stood on the most popular Vans of this decade, checkered and all, you settled for your black and white Adidas, which were way past their prime. Your budget couldn’t afford it anyways, so there was no point in a comparison. 

        “Hey Sakura!” you waved shyly and tensed when she joined her arm with your own. “what’s up?” 

        “Oh nothing,” she rolled her eyes playfully before skipping on her feet beside you, “I’m just freaking out over getting to meet the new, hot teacher!” Squinting your eyes at the screech, you press your heels into the ground to stop her trek. Sakura glances back at you curiously.

        “New teacher?” Her jaw drops at you.

        “You didn’t know?!” You flinch at her high-pitched exclamation once more before shaking your head.

        “No…?”

        “Oh my God, YN!” she drawls and smacks your shoulder playfully, “you need to get in the loop around here! You’re a student too, you know.” 

        “Oh, trust me, I know.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Now tell me more about this ‘hot teacher’ you’re so excited to meet.” She squeals with delight and latches onto your upper arm, dragging you inside the school’s main building. 

        It looks much more sleek on the inside than on the outside. While the exterior of the school was made from old, mossy bricks and had spire-like architectures to resemble a castle, the interior had pure white marble floors and walls covered in glass cases holding trophies. More awards than you ever thought existed lined the bright halls of the university, each adorned with a picture of a smiling alumni. Distantly, you wondered if you would ever accomplish something as special. 

        “So Brittany told me that Alex said that Jennifer heard…” Sakura’s gleeful chitters echo down the endless corridors, trailing off as you fall deeper and deeper into a worry-filled rabbit hole. What if you failed right on the first day? What if you never even came close to winning any kind of important awards like the people who had come here before you? 

        A headache grew not only from the bitter scent of Windex in the air covering every glass surface around you, but also from the flurry of thoughts in your head. You barely even comprehend when Sakura drops your arm and gasps at something, and you only shake out of your daze when it’s too late. 

        “Oof.” You slam into a sturdy, bulky chest and fall with a thud to the marble floor. With a hiss, you rub your aching backside and groan lightly. “That kinda hurt.”

        “Oh, I’m so sorry, are you all right?” The voice is deep and throaty, but there’s a certain giddiness about it that makes you wonder if his bumping into you was really an accident. Huffing, you glare up at the man, only to freeze at the sight. His hair looks like a black and white explosion, and his golden eyes are lit up with childlike excitement. Everything about him screams “powerful,” and even though his mouth is hidden behind a black facemask, you could almost swear he was beaming at you. Suddenly, a hand is waving around in front of your face.

        “Are you okay?” he asks again, eyes still narrowed arrogantly while he offers you help to your feet. 

        When you accept, a spark trails from his fingertips to yours and travels through your whole body at lightning speed before settling in the pit of your stomach. Involuntarily, you shiver and your fingers squeeze his large, rough hands. He lets out a small hum and closes his eyes at the action before whipping them open not even a second later. The pupils, black and glittering, have taken over the majority of his irises, and the man takes a small step closer to you. 

        “Thanks,” you whisper, unable to detach yourself from his enrapturing gaze.

        “Of course, YN.” The skin just under his eye twitches as he leans closer to you, and your breath hitches at his growing proximity.

        “Ahem!” Someone clears their throat loudly behind the wild-haired man and he instantly pulls away from you at the sound. It was like you had burned him, but before you could ask if he was okay, he mutters an apology over his shoulder and twists away from you, but not before giving your hand a quick squeeze. With a wink, he disappears into another hallway, leaving you with a tight feeling in your chest and a racing heart. 

        “YN!” It’s at that moment that you realize Sakura had witnessed all of that. “What the hell was that?” she whisper-yells at you with wide, mystified eyes. Still flustered yourself, you can only shrug and clench the straps of your backpack tightly.

        “I don’t know.” 

        “Well it doesn’t matter,” she scoffs before grasping your forearm and discreetly gesturing to a man in front of you. “Look,” she whispers enthusiastically, “it’s the hot teacher.”

        Oh, so that’s why she had gasped. And not without reason, too. The guy standing in front of you stole your breath away, and jump-started your heart just as it was about to settle down. 

        He had gunmetal blue eyes that seemed to narrow at everything, and messy black hair you desperately wanted to run your hands through. Though he was less built than the man you had just run into, there was still a hint of muscle under his clean, dark blazer. He was decked in a suit and tie, and looked more like James Bond than your new English teacher. Not that you were complaining. 

        “You ladies must be new students in my class.” His tone, albeit flat and bored, still set a fire to your nerves, much like the boy from earlier.

        “Yes, professor, we are!” Sakura nods frantically beside you and bats her eyelashes. “We are so excited to be in your class this year!” While she puckers her lips discreetly, you shift on your feet and bite the inside of your cheek, trying to restrain a blush. When his gaze shifts to you and the corner of his lips quirks up, your plan goes down the drain. 

        With a light chuckle under his breath, the professor nods approvingly at the two of you, and an emotion flickers through his eyes for a fleeting second as he stares at you once more. You barely catch it and can’t identify it in the small amount of time before he says, “Well, my room is right here. Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but you’re not the only ones to arrive early, so go ahead and find a seat.” 

        He gestures for you to follow him inside, and the door closes with a whoosh behind you as you enter the classroom. While the professor, Keiji Akaashi from what you can read off his nameplate, takes his seat at his large wooden desk, you peruse the space around you. 

        Students are chattering about in the lecture hall. Some are gathered in large clumps peering down at phones and giggling, while others are alone with headphones on, relaxing before the first class of the day. Sakura foolishly attempts to seat you both at the bottom row, closest to the teacher’s desk. Although you appreciated her reasoning, something always drew you to the back of the classroom, the very end of the space. Normally, what led you to covet this mostly hidden area in the dimmer part of the luminescent room was the idea of solitude and sparement from cheating, but today it was something more. 

        There was a boy, yes another one, lounged in the farthest row. With feet kicked up and crossed one over the other on his table space, he leaned back and watched you just as you watched him. His arms were folded behind his head while he served you a smug smirk, running a slow hand through his dark bedhead before waving teasingly at you. The cheeky act made you squeak in surprise, then a sudden growl rumbled around the room. 

        “Ms. YLN, please find a seat. Preferably one where you won’t be distracted.” Mr. Akaashi grumbled, observing you with narrowed eyes. 

        “Yes sir.” With a frantic nod, you dash up the steps to the last row of desks and plop down in one, Sakura long forgotten in the front row. She’s already made a few friends who seem just as thrilled as her to be in this class, so you weren’t exactly worried. You drop your bag to the floor beside you and pull out your phone to distract from your lonesome, but it doesn’t last long. A warm body approaches you and collapses into the spot right next to you, relaxing back into the same position you had seen him in two seconds ago. 

        “The name’s Kuroo,” he grins at you, opening only one eye to look you up and down. 

        “I’m YN,” you sputter out, dismissing formalities. “Nice to meet you.”

        “I know,” Kuroo simpers, and you can’t help but scoff at his response. The confidence he oozes is contagious, and so is the smirk he wears. 

        “Oh wow,” you laugh with a nod, “all right, smooth guy, calm it down.”

        “What,” he raises a brow playfully, “is it not nice to meet me?” 

        You bite your lip and shake your head in disbelief. “Oh, I don’t know,” you slump down into your chair and mock his posture, kicking your legs up onto the desk and crossing your arms, “you tell me.” 

        Your desk buddy cackles at this and you giggle with him. His laughter is just as infectious as his attitude. In your head, you knew this was going to bloom into a fun friendship-

        “YLN, Kuroo! Class is about to begin, so settle down!” Mr. Akaashi looks like he is about to blow steam out his ears, and his jaw twitches while snarling at you two. The sight sobers you right up, and you hurriedly sit straight up at your desk while muttering an apology. 

        For the rest of the period, Kuroo whispers the occasional joke into your ear that makes you want to crack up, but you’ve already had enough of your teacher’s scowl to know that would be dangerously thin ice. It ends with Mr. Akaashi dismissing you all and handing out a rubric for your first assignment as people exit the doorway. As you scramble to gather your notes and pens for your backpack, your new friend stays behind to keep you company. 

        “I’m telling you, YN, you’re only gonna cry at the end if you watch it!” Kuroo insists while handing you a textbook. 

        “Why would I?”

        “Because they shoot the dog!” You pout at him sadly while he furrows his brows and starts to continue. “At least, you really shouldn’t watch it alone.” 

        “Mhm.” He follows you down the steps of the lecture hall and to the doorway where Mr. Akaashi waits with a withering glare. 

        “Maybe we could-”

        “YN,” your professor interrupts with a blank stare, handing you a paper. His long, roughened fingers brush your own as he does and the touch leaves a spark, “have a good day. Mr. Kuroo,” he directs his darkening gaze to your chatterbox companion and slowly bares his teeth. “A word, please.”

        The door slams behind you thunderously as you stumble out into the hall from the force. 

        “What the hell was that all about?” you grumble, hiking your bag higher up your shoulder before leaving the university building. 

                                ~~~

        The diner was never as wonderful as you wanted, but it paid the bills. Of course, there were always the usual creeps, who showed up at around five, and then there were the occasional newbie creeps, who always shot their shot while they had the chance. Thankfully, and you suppose not-so thankfully, you weren’t the prettiest girl on the job.

        Although they paid you mostly to drop enough dignity to wear a short skirt with an apron, you weren’t the one with the most assets to flaunt. That job was also incidentally how you met Sakura, who had plenty to show off. You had become good friends when you had the same shifts, but you had become great friends when you helped her fend off a fresh pedophile from out of town. 

        Since then, she stuck to you like white on rice whenever you clocked in, and always jabbered about the most important things in life when you had time to talk. Today’s topic: the hot, new teacher.

        “Oh my God, YN, you should have seen the way he looked at me!” She bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut excitedly, wiggling with happiness. A miniature wave of jealousy flowed through your veins at her words, but it was gone before you could question it. 

        “Really?”

        “Yes! God, he has the most beautiful eyes!” She sighed dreamily while wiping down the counter. “And that hair! Ugh, don’t you just wanna run your fingers through it?” Yes.

        “Umm, sure.” You pick up the stray menus while nodding distractedly. 

        “And don’t even get me started on his smile. He has the most amazing teeth! Did you see his teeth?!” 

        “Yep.” 

        “Oh, don’t you think he has just the most wonderful-” The bells along the top of the restaurant’s entrance chime, signalling a new visitor, and you don’t wait to scramble away from Sakura. 

        “Welcome to-” Oh.

        It’s the man from earlier, from before your class, except this time he’s missing his mask. Judging by his reaction, you’re guessing he heard your slight gasp. Even from behind the counter, you can see his blinding smile, and the almost sharp teeth that come along with it. 

        “Hey YN!” he waves and takes the stool directly in front of your awestruck form. 

        “H-hi.” Your meek response makes you grow many shades of red from your neck all the way up to your hair. With a gawking mouth, you blindly feel for a menu and lay it in front of him. 

        “Thanks!” 

        “Yeah.” Your breathing falters at the wink he throws you before scrutinizing the laminated pages before him for his dinner. It only takes a few more minutes of awkwardly gaping at him before a realization hits you. 

        “Wait!” you announce loudly, capturing the attention of the whole diner. The room silences and you tense with wide eyes before waving your hands dismissively to return the patrons to their normal chatter. It’s not quite as pleasant and rowdy as before, but it’s enough to please you. Returning your gaze to the wild haired man from before, you flinch to see he’s already watching you like a hawk. Or maybe like an owl, according to his hyper focused, expectant stare. 

        This time, you make sure to lower your voice as you whisper, “How do you know my name?” The man before you stiffens and his Adam’s apple bobs. 

        “Umm, I… I…” he avoids your eyes as his own dart around the diner nervously. “I heard your friend say it!” he exclaims with an assured nod. “Yes, yes I heard your friend say it.” He points at Sakura who is chasing down a customer’s toddler running rampant around the other tables and chairs. 

        “Okay,” you nod slowly, still scrutinizing his face with narrowed eyes, “I guess that makes sense.” 

        “Yep.” He grins complacently at you before dropping his face down onto the menu again. 

        “All right,” you repeat, bobbing your head still. “All right, so if you get to know my name, doesn’t that mean I get to know yours?” 

        “Yes!” His eyes sparkle with happiness as he practically breaks his neck to face you in a split second. “My name is Koutarou Bokuto!” He shoves a hand over the counter and you gingerly accept it, shaking it politely with your own. It causes more fireworks along your nerve endings and forces a slight huff out of you. 

        “Nice to meet you, Bokuto.” A small smile had crept onto your face during the handshake, and your gaze on him softens. 

        “Aww, c’mon, call me Koutarou!” He pouts and shoves his chin into his hand, slamming his elbow down onto the counter indignantly. You disguise a giggle behind your fingers and his dramatic facial expression lets up a bit. 

        “No way, we don’t know each other enough,” you laugh, pulling the notebook and pen out of your apron. “Now do you want to hear the specials?”

        “From you? Hell yeah!”

                                ~~~

        A couple weeks have passed since your first class, and within that time you seemed to have become a teacher’s pet. Apparently, according to Mr. Akaashi, you were the only student who actually tried or paid attention in his class. At a certain point, you wanted to correct and reassure him that no, you barely paid attention, you just really liked English and studied on your own time. But as time went on, you began to appreciate his comments on your abilities. Plus, you supposed he wasn’t exactly wrong; most people were either entranced by your professor himself or stuck in a daze while staring outside the convenient, twenty-foot high classroom windows. They were quite the aesthetic, which also made them a conducive distraction. 

        In this spanse of time, you had also received more visits from Bokuto at the diner, and you spent more time out of the classroom with Kuroo. Through those hours with them, you grew closer to both, each of them gaining the title as your friend. Lately, however, a large majority of your time was spent helping Mr. Akaashi grade papers. He had inquired you a while ago to become his student assistant, and you didn’t mind helping out. 

        When he had asked, though, was when you lost favor with just about everyone in your class. 

        “YN, could you come down here for a second?” He had just dismissed them all, and singled you out just as you began to pack your things. With a curious glance from Kuroo, you shrugged and trudged down the steps, nervously standing in front of his neatly-organized desk while students filtered out behind you. 

        “Bitch.”

        “Attention whore.”

        “What a slut.”

        You glowered at the names and slumped your shoulder, practically hugging your bag like a safety blanket at this point. Mr. Akaashi only rose from his chair and slammed the door closed after them angrily, Kuroo being one of the last to leave. 

        “I’m sorry about that.” You take in a breath and wave your hand dismissively. 

        “No, no, it’s okay. People are just stupid.” Akaashi purses his lips and nods at your words, but a muscle in his jaw twitches nonetheless.

        “All right,” he sighs, standing across from you and placing his hands on his hips. The action causes his suit jacket to shift back and the front of his pristine, white undershirt to tighten against his chest, showing off its toned muscles. You swallow at the sight and unwillingly drag your gaze back up to his. For just a second his eyes darken, but you blame it on the lighting, no matter how stable it is. 

        “Anyways,” he continues gruffly, “I wanted to congratulate you. You did well on the last assignment, and I’m proud of you.” His praise shoots deep into your stomach and you bite your lip to fight off a full-blown grin. 

        “Oh, um thanks.” You were flattered mostly, but a small part of you would mourn the way your classmates used to ignore your existence. 

        “Of course. I can also tell, by your assignments, that you’re quite ahead of the others.” God, he just never stopped. The apples of your cheeks were Rudolph red at this point. “And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me grade some of the others’ papers if you have the time.” 

        The proposition made you pause at first. He later explained that it would only be a few hours a week after school just around the time the sun began to set, and that he would really appreciate the help. 

        … Who were you to say no? 

                                ~~~

        You should have said no. 

        In some weird way, you enjoyed scrutinizing the stupidity of your peers. Especially after the assholeish way they had been treating you recently. Even Kuroo’s essays on topics that weren’t even assigned were fun to read, as he usually would type up a five-page rant about why a certain cartoon character was an idiot, instead of about why Romeo and Juliet killed themselves. 

        However, there was a small factor in the process of helping Mr. Akaashi that you had accidentally mulled over. 

        He was hot.

        Already, there was nothing more distracting than your hot professor sitting across from you at his desk with his overcoat abandoned and his sleeve shirts rolled up to display his impressive forearm muscles. No, he made it worse, because this bastard forgot to mention he wore glasses. 

        Every few minutes, he would feel your gaze on him and glance up at you over the frames with a small smirk. The minuscule act was devastating on your focus. 

        Today was no different, although, something weird had happened. You had mistakenly walked in on him arguing over the phone with someone. 

        “You’re too stupid to be in my class. Plus, that dumbass cat is in it, and I know you won’t be able to hold yourself back around him.” Mr. Akaashi hissed into his phone. You couldn’t exactly hear the person on the other side, but something about their tone seemed… familiar. After that, he had spotted you and quickly hung up. 

        Now, you sat across from him at his desk with a chair you had pulled over from the corner of the classroom, and yawned behind your hand while reading a fellow classmate’s essay. 

        “YN?” He slowly set down the paper he had been marking with a red pen and peeked at his watch. “It is a little later than when we normally finish. Would you like me to walk you home?” 

        The offer was tempting, and although you did have self-control, your professor was really pushing it with those glasses. 

        “No, I’ll be okay.” You stand up and grab your bag, smiling shyly when he helps you put on your coat. “Thank you,” you mumble.

        “Of course.” A twinge of happiness leaks into his voice behind you and you have to glance back to make sure it’s still the same guy. He’s not grinning abnormally like you expected, but something akin to excitement glows in his eyes. 

        “Okay,” you rush out, a little flustered by his bizarre display of emotion. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” With a wave over your shoulder, you don’t even dare to look back, too afraid that you might hop on him like a wolf in heat. Something about Mr. Akaashi always made you want to stay longer than necessary, but you never did. Damn self-control.

        The sun had set hours ago, you could tell that by the way that you couldn’t even see your own feet. 

        “Goddamnit,” you groan, snatching your phone out of your pocket and turning on the flashlight. It was about a half a mile walk to your apartment, and you weren’t sure if your thirty percent battery could handle it. 

        “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss. Not only was it dark, it was also freezing, and you puff warm air on your fingers to fend off the cold. The streetlamps on the campus sidewalk buzzed and stirred with moths. A particularly cold wind nipped at your nose and threw your hair into your face. You could only spit it out with a “plugh” while you hugged yourself tighter. Crickets chirped and signalled they were the only sign of life in the area. Well, except for whatever had just snapped that twig behind you. 

        “Who’s there?” you yelped, whipping around and flaunting your flashlight in front of you. Nothing responded, and all you could see on the frosted concrete was a broken, wooden stick. There wasn’t even a footstep. By now, your whole body was trembling from fear and cold, but you kept on your way, speeding up your pace to a power walk while hastily trying to not trip over something as well. 

        A shiver rolled up your spine as a familiar feeling returned. Someone was watching you. Their gaze was tangible, like two fingertips jabbing against the back of your head. The hair on the back of your neck stood at attention as you started to jog, dismissing the possibility of a fall. 

        Adrenaline rushed through your body and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, along with the heavy breathing of someone behind you. Oh shit! 

        They were right on your tail, and you sped up into a sprint for your life. The flashlight on your phone flickered, then flickered some more when you smacked it with a frustrated “C’mon!” before finally turning off completely. 

        The university’s street lamps were long gone, as tonight you had chosen for a quicker back way so you could get to sleep earlier. Damn your need for beauty rest. 

        Your lungs pleaded for air as your legs burned. They wiggled from underneath you, now only fueled by your fight or flight hormone, and right now you were flying.  

        And then you weren’t. 

        With a horrified screech, you tripped over a stray rock on the concrete and tumbled into the grass near the sidewalk. Your stalker let out a small chuckle and straddled your screaming form. 

        “Help! Oh God, help me! Help m-mmpf!” A cloth slammed over your nostrils and mouth, and in your panicked state, you breathed. You couldn’t see the man above you, only a faint form of him, but you could tell from his weight that he was big. Well, not big. Muscular. 

        “Sshh, YN, we need to take care of you now. Just breathe it in, then we can take care of you forever.” 

        Tears pricked your eyes as you let out more muffled screams. Your heart was in a frenzied panic, and skipped a beat when your head began to grow woozy. 

        “Good job, YN.” Oh God. “You’re doing so well, darling. Just you wait.” Was that… “We’ll take care of you, and we’ll love you forever. Just like the old days.” Bokuto. 

        You were so tired, so very tired. You just wanted to sleep, to close your eyes. 

        So you did. 

                                ~~~

        Pain overtook the sides of your brain as you woke up. With a pained groan, you peeled one eye open, then another before glancing around. The room was relatively large, and you observed your surroundings as you sat up off a wood floor, wrapped only in a blanket and sitting on three couch cushions with a matching pillow. 

        The first thing you noticed was that you were in a cage. Metal bars surrounded you and grouped together so tightly you could barely fit your full forearm through. There was only about a foot of space left around your makeshift mattress, and the metal bars led all the way to the ceiling. A lockspace for a key was directly in front of you, and past it was a door to the entire room. To your left was a couch, de-cushioned for your benefit, and to your right was a TV, softly playing the day’s weather forecast. Behind you, there was a window, with the curtains pulled back to show a forest, the sky, and nothing more. Birds chirped from outside, signalling that morning had just started. 

        “What?” you whispered brokenly, scratching your already abused throat from yesterday’s screaming match. 

        “YN?” The door opened, and in an instant you stood and crashed forwards into the metal bars, reaching for whoever it was. “YN, are you awake? I brought you breakfast.” 

        The voice triggers a pain in the side of your neck, and you hiss while pressing your fingers against it. Then you whimper at the feeling. 

        There, on the side of your neck, equally away from your collar bone and your ear, were two scabbed puncture wounds about the size of pencil eraser tips. 

        “Oh my God,” you whisper, trembling with fear and pain. “What did you do to me?”

        “Good morning, my love,” Akaashi purses his lips and draws closer with a metal tray. It holds plates with pancakes, sausage, eggs, and anything else for breakfast that would normally make you drool. It’s well-made too, but too bad you feel more like hurling than anything else. 

        He sets it down and nudges it under a small space between the cell bars and the floor, just barely making it untouched into your cage. “My apologies,” he soothes with a gesture to your neck, “sometimes Bokuto just can’t help himself around you. I assure you he only tasted a drop though.” 

        With a strangled sob, you fall back to the ground and cup a hand around your bruised neck, weeping silently and hugging your knees into your chest for comfort. The sudden action causes Akaashi to jump, slamming up against your cell and clenching the bars with wide eyes. 

        “My love? Are you okay?” The door slams open behind him.

        “Well, is she awake?” The sight of him makes you moan in despair while tucking your face into your legs. Another clang against your cage is heard and you peer up to see Bokuto grabbing the bars as well, watching you with fearful eyes. 

        “What did you do to me?” you hiss angrily, tears oddly drying up in an instant. Your bloodshot eyes remain as you bare your teeth, and rage takes over you. The petrified state has passed and you’ve moved onto the next level. 

        “What the hell did you do to me?!” you shout, still pressing a hand against your neck. As if that could eliminate the mark he left. 

        Bokuto huffs and puts on a small pout, pressing his face dangerously close to the bars as he whines. “I’m so sorry, YN, I just couldn’t help myself! Next time, I promise I’ll wait until you let me!” His words ignite a flame in your chest. Your emotions are so up the roof in this moment that each one takes over on a whim.

        “‘Next time’?! ‘Let me’?!” You stand and charge the bars, reaching out to strangle both nutjobs only to smirk when they step back hastily. “I’m gonna kill you motherfuckers!”

        Both men stay silent and observe you hesitantly. Akaashi wonders if you might just go batshit enough to break out of the cage. Bokuto wonders how soon he will be able to get a taste of you again. After all, this time you taste even better than all your past reincarnates combined. It’s addicting.

        You wonder- oh fuck it.

        “Where the hell am I?!”

Masterlist  Next

Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) ~Chapter 5~

(Supernatural/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: Bro. Bro. Bro. Okay, so y’all are either gonna love me or hate me for the end, but that’s okay. I’m really sorry I haven’t updated in a while, but I promise the story is gettin’ good! Once again, I hate to use this excuse, but life has gotten surprisingly hectic in the last week, so I hope you’ll excuse my lack of updating. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Tag List: @burntcilantro​  @alloverbutterflies​  @translucentthoughts​  @zaejia​  @momothepeachgirl  @black-veil-chemicalz​  @miigoth​  @blxkstar​  @keigosbitch​  @actual-smol​  @rikorene​  @idiot-juice-enthusiast​  @cherriomilkmangos​  

Word count: 4364

        “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

        When you were younger, you used to play at your neighborhood park with another boy around your age. His name was Kenma, and he was one of your first friends. And right now, the man currently unlocking the cuffs around your wrists looked like his spitting image, just a decade older. 

        “Give us some privacy, Kenma.” Well damn.

        The blond man only nodded in acknowledgment and left the room. It looked a lot like your bedroom back at Akaashi and Bokuto’s house. There was a large bed up against one wall, and you currently sat on it while Kuroo pulled up an armchair in front of you. A chandelier hung from the high ceilings, and it buzzed with artificial light. The only art in the room was ancient and weathered, depicting either roses or oceanic views among the cream-colored walls. The remaining furniture was a simple, carved wooden closet across from the bathroom’s entrance, and a long, velvet sofa opposite a mounted television. 

        The only difference was the atmosphere. It wasn’t friendly or loving, no matter how many times Kuroo smiled reassuringly at you. At a certain point, you lost your patience. 

        “Go to college, they said,” you lean back on your hands and sneer at the man. “You’ll be fine, they said. You won’t get kidnapped twice in the same fucking year, they said!”

        “Language.”

        “ENGLISH!” 

        Kuroo chuckled, less than impressed with your manic temper. You could tell he wanted to sit closer to you, but he respected your space. Every few seconds, his eyes would fall to the empty space on the mattress next to you, but they would flick back up to yours just as fast. His arms stayed glued to those of his chair to keep him in place. 

        “You need to calm down.”

        “I don’t need to do shit,” you snarled. “Once again, I’m locked up in another…” you waved your arms around wildly, “ancient, supernatural freak’s mansion, which I don’t even know how you guys can even afford this shit!” 

        The black-haired man raised his brow and pressed himself deeper into his seat. “I was the king of an entire kingdom, you know.” 

        “Yeah, like a thousand years ago,” you nodded, lip curled back in vexation. “What, did you pay with doubloons, or with gold coins?” 

        He only snickers and shakes his head, leaning forward while you tilt back on your palms. Your legs still hang off the edge of the bed, though, and Kuroo seems about two seconds away from fondling your kneecaps. “Kitten, you don’t have to be afraid of me-”

        “Thanks, kidnapper.”

        “-because I won’t treat you like they did.” Your nostrils flare at this. He was talking about Bokuto and Akaashi; he had to be…. 

        Were they okay?

        “Are they…” you trail off and clear your throat. The skin of your thighs seemed very interesting at the moment. “... Did you hurt them?”

        “They don’t matter right now, Kitten.” 

        “Of course they do!” You rear back and narrow your eyes at him in an instant. “What did you do to them?!”

        “They abducted you and held you in a cage for months, YN!” Kuroo finally snaps, his teeth baring with his desperate tone. “I won’t treat you like they did.” Your speed didn’t matter. He still managed to snatch your hands in his and hold them in a death grip. Thumbs ran over your knuckles in what was hoped to be comforting, but actually ran a chill up your spine. “You’re not some prisoner to me.”

        His touch, it felt so wrong. Unlike the wizard, it wasn’t gentle and calming. Unlike the vampire, it wasn’t adoring and playful. It was… you didn’t know the word, but you did know it was just plain wrong. But his words… were they right? You mulled them over for a minute, but a million memories, emotions, feelings, they all crashed against his one argument in an overpowering wave. 

        “No,” you drop your face and set your jaw. “I wasn’t a prisoner to them.” 

        “Months, YN,” Kuroo sighs, “you sat in a cell for months.”

        “They had to!” 

        “Why?” His voice lowers and he gazes deep into your eyes. The intensity makes you shift and squeeze his hands subconsciously. 

        “I-I don’t-” you stutter for an answer, but come up empty. You’re at a loss. Lower lip trembling, your eyes dart around the room as you scour your brain for anything. They said they loved you. Cared for you. Would never hurt you. 

        So then why was I trapped in a cell like that? 

        Your eyelids lowered in defeat, and you let out a shaky sigh. 

        Kuroo was a smart man. He knew when a battle was won. 

        A small shuffle signals his movement, and the comforter under you dips with the weight of a second presence. Only one of your hands has been let go; the other has intertwined with his and adjusted to his change in position. You were cold and abandoned; your thoughts left you feeling cheated. 

        Why did they hold me in a cell like that? You were only a young college student. You couldn’t have harmed them. 

        But they were so kind yesterday! So loving and wonderful and-and….

        They were your soulmates. The mark on your wrist, on the wrist Kuroo brushed against, told you so. Every mental image of them left you feeling fuzzy and warm. 

        But thinking about how they had held you like that? They shouldn’t have treated me like that. If they loved me, that wouldn’t have treated me like that. Like an-

        “Like an animal.” Kuroo’s smug voice interrupts your downward spiral, but when he turns to face you, he is the spitting image of utter sincerity. A large palm cups your cheek, and in your scrambled state, you lean into it, yearning for some form of comfort. No matter how wrong it felt. 

        “YN,” he continues, “I saved you. You needed to be saved from them.” 

        No I didn’t. They were so kind and gentle with me. They never tried to hurt me on purpose, or lie to me. Everything they did, they did so they could keep me around. Because they-

        “I love you.” Kuroo himself seems surprised at the admission, but he gulps and keeps going. “I have loved you for centuries, and I would do anything to keep you safe.” His fingertips run along the side of your face and push a strand of hair behind your ear. His hazel orbs, round ponds akin to pure gold, are so enchanting. You find yourself lost, willingly. Because losing yourself in someone else felt a lot better than crumpling deep inside on your own, wondering if you ever should have fallen in love with them. 

        Was that how fragile the love between the three of you was? So easily undermined by a black cat with an arrogant smile? Of course not. 

        “No.” Your heart swelled up to your throat, and your eyes slipped down to the mark. The spiral of three arms. And not a single one of them were disconnected. The bond between you and the others was something that should never be underestimated. Akaashi had told you that. 

        “Excuse me?” Kuroo draws back, his hand hovering over your flushed cheek with surprise. 

        They loved you too. They would do anything to keep you safe too. You just had to trust them. Bokuto had told you that. 

        “They’re here,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes. “Bring me to them.”

        The cat’s gaze hardens, and the proud look falls from his face. “YN, I’ll let you leave the house. I won’t treat you like an animal. I won’t lock you away!” 

        “I don’t care!” you shout, snapping up on your feet and towering over him. “Show me where they are!”

        “No!”         “Why not?!”

        “Because you don’t need to see them!” He rises as well, and his more intimidating presence almost makes you falter. 

        Almost. Your gut tells you to not back down. To fight. 

        To find them.

        “Yes I do, Kuroo,” you snarl, standing your ground when he stomps a foot closer. Hot breaths puff against your face angrily, and you flare your nostrils in defense. 

        “Let them go, YN!”

        “No!”

        “Just give up on them!”

        “Never! Bring me to them!”

        The banter continues for a while. You won’t take no for an answer, and neither will he. Your face grows redder and redder as time passes, and Kuroo’s pupils slim into feline-like slivers. 

        Then finally, his patience slips. With four swift strides on his long legs, he makes his way to your bedroom exit, whipping open the door. 

        In one last turn of his head, he mutters three words that break your heart. 

        “I killed them.” 

                                ~~~

        Bokuto is a fighter. He stays headstrong in his ways, loves to the max, and never falters in his beliefs. You could always depend on him to cheer you up, or encourage you. On days where you felt down, he would always sit by your side on the sofa and watch a sappy sitcom with you. He is your sun.

        Or he was.

        Akaashi was almost the polar opposite. While he wasn’t the best to confide in for comfort, he was always willing to help. The wizard was selfless, almost like a mother. If you wanted to learn how to cook, he would oversee every move you made and provide small tips. He kept you safe when you were less than careful, and showed his love more through actions rather than words. He is your rock. 

        Or he was. 

        You didn’t truly know how much time had passed since Kuroo had broken the news. Much like when you had first met your soulmates, you felt trapped. The bed-headed man had given you free reign to the world. Your door was unlocked, and you could leave at any moment. But you didn’t. 

        No, instead you wallowed in self pity. What could have been would now never be. You didn’t want to believe it. Your gut told you so. But the fact was that Kuroo had spat those words with complete and utter hatred. Hatred… and honesty. An angry man will say anything to feel better about himself, but the next day, when Kuroo re-entered your room, he spoke a truth you couldn’t deny. 

        “What purpose would I have for keeping them alive?”

        Those words struck your heart worse than the first time you had to face his facts. Before, you could hold onto the small sliver of hope you had. He could’ve been lying through the pain. 

        But now? Now, there was no hope. 

        Poison coated your tongue. You didn’t want to eat, no matter how much your stomach begged. A constant ache settled in your chest. You didn’t know how to solve it, and you didn’t know how to move past it. Could you?

        Every hour that passed, you huddled deeper into your cocoon of self-deprecation. You shouldn’t have doubted them before. You should have loved them better before you lost them. You should have-

        “All right, YN. It’s time to stop moping.” Your door slammed open, and surprise surprise, in walked Kuroo. Under one arm, he lugged a pile of clothes. In the other, he balanced a tray of pancakes and other morning delicacies. The meal, no matter how ordinary, still made your eyes water.

        He plops the food right down on your lap just as you peek out and hiss, “You have no right to tell me what to do.” 

        “Don’t test me, Kitten.” A playful glint his eyes previously held darkens. The outfit in his grasp also falls onto the bed, directly on your toes. It’s the same kind of clothing you would wear to your college, scrambling around campus and fumbling with your homework. 

        That felt like so long ago. You had almost forgotten you lived a normal life. You used to be human. 

        “We’re going back to school!” The words leave you frozen in shock, and you snap your head up to face him.

        “What?! Why?!” Kuroo sniggers and pats the top of your head patronizingly.

        “You’ve missed so many assignments, Kitten. But don’t worry, I’ll catch you up. I was very attentive while you were away.”

                                ~~~

        It’s harsh to be thrown back into the real world after feeling like your own has broken apart. Nobody around you knew what you had been through. They didn’t know you’d loved. They didn’t know you’d lost. All they knew was that you were back and alive. 

        Your old, fellow students surround you like fans with a backstage pass. Someone even snapped a photo of you. 

        Well, of you and Kuroo. He hadn’t left your side once since popping into your “new” bedroom approximately forty minutes ago. You had always assumed both your soulmates and Kuroo had their mansions (rich bastards) miles and miles away from Tokyo, when in fact it was only about a ten-minute drive. They didn’t seem to be too worried about being found by the authorities any time soon. 

        Or, at least Kuroo didn’t. 

        The sheer volume of people around you was intimidating, and you couldn’t help but default into Kuroo’s form. Claustrophobia. Wonderful, just another perk from your kidnappings you couldn’t wait to test out in society. 

        So far, it was a trainwreck. 

        Your heart hadn’t stopped hurting, but the heat gathering around you made its pace quicken. Every chatter among the crowd pecked your ears, and you struggled to contain the occasional whimper. 

        A few faces you recognized among the group, but none that seemed to care about your well being. Instead, they were all excited. 

        “Where have you been?”

        “How was your vacation?”

        “Did you really leave with Mr. Akaashi and return with Kuroo? Ugh, slut.”

        The name leaves your mind in shambles. Not once had you heard it aloud since… well, you didn’t really know. But as soon as it fell from that girl’s… Sakura’s lips, you couldn’t think straight. 

        With one arm wound through Kuroo’s, you gripped his bicep harshly in warning. Get me out of here, your eyes pleaded. The black-haired man dropped his attention to you and nodded in understanding. 

        Sadly, his definition of escape was much different from yours. While you would’ve preferred his house or, if you could be picky, Paris, Kuroo was much more realistic. “Escape” was up twenty in-classroom steps and placed in your old seats. 

        As you settled down behind the desks, the cat stayed by your side, constantly brushing up against you when given the chance. You could breathe up here, but barely. The fluorescent lights buzzing in the ceiling grew less and less blurry, so you counted it as a small win for now. 

        In your seat, you laid out all the necessary tools for learning. Pencils, pens, scratch paper and a notebook, all neatly organized and generously provided by your new kidnapper haphazardly in a backpack just before stepping into the classroom. Their perfect placements felt like the only thing you could control right now, so you moved them around with trembling hands. 

        A smooth tune whistled behind you while you fondled your number two pencils. Then a heavy weight fell on your shoulders. Literally, of course. Kuroo’s hand massaged the skin of your upper arm, thankfully protected by thick sweatshirt material, and he grinned when you threw him a glare.

        “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep you safe.” 

        An involuntary gasp slips between your lips. No. No! How fucking dare he?! Without a second thought, you grab his bicep and rip his arm away from you, leaving a trail of red lines in your nails’ wakes. 

        “Don’t call me that.” All emotion has slipped from your face, but the tone in your voice speaks volumes. It’s hard and stiff and angry and loud. And he had no right to throw that shit in your face. 

        Your pupils hesitantly glance back at the outburst, but Kuroo is unfazed. His eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone before you can gather the will to identify it. 

        The classroom door opens and closes, and you suck in a breath at Akaashi’s substitute. He’s about ninety years young, wearing corduroy pants attached to suspenders that strap him into his crisp, button-down shirt. There’s not a wrinkle in sight, but every two minutes he pushes up his glasses and smacks his lips together. 

        “I think he’s just trying to keep in his dentures,” Kuroo whispers in your ear. 

        The old you would have snickered, maybe even added to it. You still could. After all, his lenses were thicker than you would ever be. But you couldn’t muster the energy to speak. 

        Because you just… you couldn’t stop picturing him up there. Back when you were just his student. You could’ve noticed his lasting glances, his gaze staying on you for just a second too long. The quirk of his lips anytime you finally found the courage to raise your hand, to answer his question. 

        Suddenly, your chair grows ten times stiffer. You can’t stop licking your cracked lips with your dry tongue. Your fists curl and uncurl against your tense thighs, and your knees bounce against the desktop. 

        It’s so hot in here. You feel like you’re on fire, but you don’t want to try and get out of the sweatshirt. You want to stay hidden. 

        If they were here, they would know what was happening. They would sense it, and they would help me.

        But they could never be there anymore. 

        Your breathing quickens and shakes. Sweat dribbles down your temple as an ache focuses directly behind your forehead. 

        Bokuto would notice right away, and give me a comforting hug. Akaashi would hold my hand, and not hesitate to take me home. 

        But they couldn’t save you right now. They were gone. 

        Oh God.

        Oh God.

        They’re gone. 

        You can feel sweat festering everywhere. Even your palms clam up enough to secrete liquid. Is that even normal?

        Kuroo relaxes in the seat next to you. The occasional pink bubble appears between his lips and pops noisily before chomping back into his mouth. His eyes are dull and bored as he zones out. 

        Your own are locked on the front of the classroom, twitching and darting around. 

        He should be up there. They should be by my side. But they aren’t. They’re gone. 

        You can’t stand it. You needed to get out of there. In a dead panic, you snatch up all the utensils on your desk, scaring the life out of the cat beside you. The scrambling is quiet enough to leave the rest of the students undisturbed, but Kuroo snaps straight up and hovers his hands over your frantic arms. 

        “Are you okay?”

        Your cheeks feel green, and your throat seizes up. After everything seems to be carelessly crammed into the small backpack, you finally take one deep breath and zip it closed. Then you turn to face him with begging eyes. “Please take me home.”

        You weren’t prepared for this. You weren’t ready to be shoved back into the outside world. Just five days ago, you were happy and in love. And now, you were broken and in pain. 

        Kuroo complies with ease, his eyes glowing in delight. “Anything for you.”

        His response accompanies a smirk, something you would never hope to see in your state. It’s devious and cruel, and you feel tortured like a plaything. The words themselves break your heart. You wished they were in another voice, falling from another’s lips. 

        But they weren’t.

                                ~~~

        Kuroo has no chance to get another word in as you aimlessly sprint to your room. You just barely remember your way back from this morning, but after twenty minutes of a headless chicken imitation, you finally find your way. 

        The room is colder and emptier than you remember somehow, and its unfamiliarity breaks your walls. Tears trail down your cheeks as the door clicks to a close behind you. With stumbling footsteps, you kick off your tennis shoes and crawl into the bed, falling into a restless sleep.

        At some point in your forced nap, Kuroo tries to shake you awake, but you clench your eyes shut and bite your lip, feigning unconsciousness. After a few more pointless attempts, he leaves and allows you some alone time with a sigh, but not before a clang signals he’s left you something on your coffee table. You ignore it.

        After lying motionless for hours on your colder mattress, you give up on your dreamless sleep. By now, the sky outside your window is pitch black and sprinkled with minuscule circles of pure white. Your cheeks are stiff and the corners of your eyes are crusty from your breakdown. 

        Hesitantly, you wipe the remnants of sleep away from your eyes before worming your way out of bed. Your muscles are sore, and your clothing feels disgusting, doused in dried sweat. On wobbling knees, you clamber off the mattress and scuff your feet against the floor until you find it. Your toes make contact with a light pile of silk, and in a last ditch effort to keep them alive, you change back into Akaashi and Bokuto’s provided nightgown. 

        A wave of calm washes over you, its familiarity leaving you comforted and reassured. You squint your eyes and allow them to adjust to the darkness of your room. There, on the coffee table, is what you assume was Kuroo’s gift. Dinner. 

        A plate with cold, steamed broccoli and a grilled cheese sandwich. 

        “Wow, they really go all out here,” you mumble bitterly. Slumping onto the carpeted floor, your thighs raise goosebumps at the shift in temperature as you pick through your meal, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully. 

        You seem to have lost all self-control at this point. Not even two seconds later, tears cloud your eyes. You couldn’t help but think about them. 

        I wonder if they’re-

        Your heart thumps in your chest harshly, startling you. It speeds up for no apparent reason, even as you search through the dark for anything that might have scared, well, your body. 

        Then it hits you. This must be what happens when soulmates die. 

        The thought hammers in the final nail in your coffin of grief. More tears, just when you thought you ran out, trace paths of anguish down your face. Then your heart thumps again, almost shifting your whole weight forward. 

        What the hell?

        The pumps grow harder and harder, each more powerful than the last as you jolt forward, dropping your food and pushing up to your feet. 

        Your heart. It’s pleading with you to move. To do something.

        All you can do is follow as it smacks frantically against your rib cage. It doesn’t hurt, but as you move in the direction of your door, a rush of fuzzy feelings flow through your body in response. 

        When you place your hand on the knob, it beats encouragingly, directing you out into the silent hall. Not a sound can be heard as you play a game of hot and cold with your body. There is no drawback, only rewards in the form of pure jubilation setting your body aflame. Tiptoeing down the hall, you follow the excitement, padding your bare feet against the hardwood floor as softly and swiftly as you can. 

        You hold your breath and let it out in small streams through your stuffy nostrils, knowing that even the smallest noise could awaken the hypersensitive werecats around you. The halls are much more bare than Akaashi and Bokuto’s, and you're thankful that there are no vases to stub your toe against this round.

        The irregular bursts of elation lead you down a banister of marble stairs, past the large front entrance, and through a dark, forgotten hallway you had never seen before on your two adventures throughout Kuroo’s home. There is only one door, and it’s at the immediate end of the dusty corridor. While gnawing on your bottom lip, you creep closer and closer, finally reaching it with a relieved sigh as one large wave of endorphins hits you like a freight train. 

        In here.

        Past the rusty door is another staircase, leading deep into the basement of the mansion. The walls are covered in unidentifiable gunk, and you try not to gag as a slimy feeling brushes your forearm on the railing. The smell is less than desirable, almost akin to rotting meat, but your heart doesn’t want you to stop anytime soon. Finally, finally, you come to one final door at the bottom of the stairs. 

        Pushing past its splintered wood, you slip inside and involuntarily smile as a wave of pure joy wracks through your body. The room is large and freezing cold, with concrete floors and red brick walls. The light of the moon shines through a single window directly across from you, split in half by a row of metal bars. 

        There’s two cells, empty only for two hunched over forms. One breathes out visible clouds of air while leaning against the wall, asleep on the musty floor. In the other cell, a body with wild hair is curled into a ball, hugging its stomach and letting out the occasional whimper. The sight was the definition of miserable, but your heart loves it nonetheless. It rewards you for winning the treasure hunt with one heavy surge of euphoria, leaving you breathless and holding back a squeal. 

       Bokuto and Akaashi. They were alive.

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