It’s The Thirsting On Hisoka Even Tho I’ve Never Actually Watched Hunter X Hunter For Me🤡

Oreosmama’s Masterlist

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER/LEGEND OF KORRA

CALL OF DUTY

HAIKYUU!!

MY HERO ACADEMIA

ONE PUNCH MAN

STAR WARS

STRANGER THINGS

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

Other Fandoms:

Chaos Walking:

🟣Headcanons🟣

When He’s Sad (Todd Hewitt) 🌦️

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid: 

■  Envy on Leave 🌦️

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

Jujutsu Kaisen: 

Gojo Satoru:

■  Ten to None (Soulmate AU)🌦️

Soulmates’ markings add up to ten so soulmates know just how much of a danger their soulmate is to them. You have a ten on your wrist, so you know your soulmate must have a zero. There’s just one problem: no one in history has ever been worthy of a danger rating of ten, so who the hell is the supposedly “invincible god” were you fated to? 

Peaky Blinders:

Michael Gray: 

■  Gray Chains (Yandere) 🖤☀️ 

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

■  Lost and Found (Yandere/Sequel to “Gray Chains”) 🖤🌦️ (🔔?)

Michael is weak and desperate for you after being bedridden with his gunshot wounds in the hospital, but after weeks of caring for him, you know your feelings for your former kidnapper have grown into something you don’t dare confess. One night, when you almost let your feelings slip, you decide to flee. Michael won’t let you go so easily.

Queen’s Gambit:

Benny Watts: 

■  April Showers ☀️

All dolled up and ready to confess, you await a certain chess champion’s visit as a thunderstorm rages outside. But the longer your phone call stretches on, the closer you realize he may be to feeling the same about you.

Seven Deadly Sins:

Ban:

■  More Than a Name (Soulmate AU) ☀️

While escaping from the Holy Knights who are chasing after not her, but the name on her wrist, YN runs into the last person she expected to see so soon: Ban, her soulmate. 

Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw:

■  Look Me in the Eyes 🌦️

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

If you’re requests are open, do you think you could do a part 2 of the yandere Michael Gray fic? I really loved it! Have a good day/night :))

Dudeeee I’ve been dying to write more Yandere Michael Gray fics but istg my mind is like a dried-up well rn. If u got any ideas, I’d love to hear em!

Ps I’m glad you liked it!

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

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

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

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

On a Cold Winter’s Night (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: I took like six hours to write this??? Bruh callin’ amateur hour in this bitch 😑😑 eh, whatever, enjoy!

Word count: 5345

        Snow, layers upon layers, piled up outside of the library. The glass doors of the library had long frosted over, and inside the lights began to flicker. Outside every window was a blanket of white, everything in the distance far too foggy to see through the flurry of flakes. 

       The lone television suspended above the library’s main desk played the same succession of videos–static with white noise, a scrolling of text warning people to stay inside, three loud buzzes, then more static with white noise. It far overpowered the sound of the library’s heater kicking on, its automatic settings desperately trying to battle the cold that succeeded in invading the closed and locked library. 

       You sighed, sparing another glance at the exit and the wall of snow that kept rising against it. Minutes ago you’d tried pushing open the doors, only succeeding in chilling the tips of your fingers against the frozen metal. Ever since then, your fingers never truly seemed to recover. 

       Just your luck; first a small windstorm had delayed your flight back home for Christmas Break, and now, just when you’d given up and decided to work on a few research projects while being stuck at the university, you were trapped inside the library. 

       But you weren’t alone. No, of course not. As if fate had it out for you, you were stuck inside the building with the one guy you despised with your whole being. 

       “Gum?”

       Oikawa held out a piece, a small smirk dancing on the edge of his lips. When all he received in response was a blank stare, he shrugged and unwrapped it, tossing it in his mouth before toying with the wrapper. 

       The both of you sat behind the librarian’s desk in tall, wooden stools. It was the only place with service, and it was where you had both scurried to the second the storm warning chimed through the announcement speakers. 

       While you had attempted to push through the doors, Oikawa had called the school’s main office, warning them of your predicament. Of course, he’d cut himself off halfway through with a cackle at the sight of the door slamming back in your face, but nonetheless he’d gotten a simple, if completely undesirable response. 

       “The both of you need to stay in there and not leave. It’s far too dangerous to go out into the blizzard right now. Tomorrow morning it should be calmed down, and then we’ll send people over to get you. For now, try to stay warm.”

       When he relayed this message to you, you had him put them on speaker so you could hear it with your own two ears. 

       Pop.

       Alas, it was the truth. You were stuck.

       Pop.

       With your worst enemy. Alone. 

       Pop.

       During a blizzard. 

       “Will you stop doing that?” you hissed, heaving a glare at him. 

       Oikawa froze in his seat, a gum-bubble the size of a golf ball slowly deflating with a wheeze. He raised his hands in surrender. “Excuse me for trying to find some source of joy in this miserable place. Maybe you should try having fun once in a while, YN.”

       Your cheeks burned in shame at that. “I have fun!”

       A single brown brow rose. “Do you?”

       “Yes,” you folded your arms across your chest, “I do. But unlike you, I don’t do it at the expense of other people’s sanity.”

       Long ago, amidst your third week of your first year at the university, you learned that you and Oikawa were two vastly different people. In co-ed dorms, he lived just across from you, and it seemed he reminded you of that every other night. 

       While loud music boomed across the hall and eventually spread throughout the building, you sat inside your dorms, hands over the headphones over your ears. You were usually leant over a textbook, pencil and notes abandoned long ago as you tried to comprehend the words despite not being able to hear your own thoughts. 

       Your roommate would slip out to join the fun, meeting and laughing with someone who had knocked on your door. Then that someone had tapped a single finger on your shoulder, squatting down beside your desk and leaning his head to one side. 

       As usual, a teasing smile danced on his lips. “You gonna join us, or sit here studying like a Debbie Downer?”

       You’d be the first–and most certainly not the last–to admit that he was attractive. Brown hair exploding in tufts and swept across his forehead. Bronze eyes twinkling in the light of your lamp. Thin, pink lips pulled into a goading grin. 

       “Come on, I promise the water’s warm.”

       It was at that moment that you started to hate him.

       “Get out of my room.”

       The smugness blanketing his face had dropped for a split second, and you genuinely wondered if you were the first to ever resist his charms. But how could you not, when in every second of your interaction with him, it felt like he was laughing at you?

       Hesitantly, it seemed, he rose to his feet, stumbling a bit. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was already drunk, but you hadn’t smelled it earlier when he was inches from your face. 

       “All right,” he chuckled, rising to his full height with his hands on his knees. Swiftly, he turned and made his way to your door, not bothering to look back at you again. “I know when I’m not wanted. Enjoy your studying, YN.”

       How he’d learned your name, you never really. You’d figured he caught it on the first day of the one class you shared with him, English, amidst mandatory introductions. Since then, every time your name fell on his lips, he more sang it than said it, always in that sly tone of his. 

       You hated it. You hated him. 

       And now, as you spent the third day of Christmas Break locked inside alone with him in a freezing library, you found yourself despising him even more. 

       Pop.

       “Well, YN, you should know better than anyone that I have a knack for driving people insane,” Oikawa hummed, long fingers folding the edges of his gum wrapper against the desk surface. Your eyes drawn to the action, you absentmindedly scoffed. 

       “Yes, I certainly do.”

       His eyes darted to yours, an emotion flitting across them before dropping back down to his miniature origami. A chill ran up your spine. 

       “I’m going to go look for some blankets,” you sputtered out of the blue. You found yourself reflecting his shocked look, a little surprised at yourself at the outburst. 

       “Okay,” he grinned after a pause. “Hurry back soon.”

       Ignoring the wink he offered you, you slipped out of your chair and left him alone behind the desk counter, effectively beginning your search for stray, abandoned coverings. 

       Instantly, you realized the rest of the library was significantly chillier than the desk up front. Though the heater was still pumping and hissing through the air vents above you, it was now rattling much more forcefully than before.

       Must be the snow piling on top of the electrical system or something. 

       The fluorescent lights buzzed above you, still cutting off and flickering every few seconds as you passed bookshelf after labeled bookshelf. Signs labeled with genres and areas of study swung from the ceiling over rows of different-colored bindings. So distracted, you let out a yelp of pain after stubbing your toe against an abandoned book cart, plenty of go-backs filed one after the other in no discernible order. 

       “YN?” Far off, Oikawa’s voice called after you. Despite the distance you’d created between the two of you, he still must have heard your pained shout. A small part of you was surprised he bothered to acknowledge the noise at all. 

       Maybe he’s not a complete pain in the ass.

       “Yeah, that was me, I’m fine! Just hit my foot on something!”

       “Do you need help finding your way around? I’m sorry, I forgot my walking rope, so we’ll have to hold hands!”

       Nevermind, still a dick. 

       “Fuck you!”

       “That’s why I’m here!”

       Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips to prevent giving in to his teasing further. With a few hissed curses under your breath, you continue venturing through the uninhabited building. Though you did find a few abandoned belongings, none of which were of much use. A few too small hoodies, one suspicious pair of sweatpants, and some stray sunglasses. One poor soul even forgot their backpack at one of the work tables, and despite your initial curiosity, you refrained from digging through it and instead left it where it was. 

       It was when you arrived at the individual work areas divided by wooden partitions that your search finally paid off. Because it was arranged against a line of floor-to-ceiling windows, it was significantly colder in this work area than any other place you’d come across. Luckily, that also meant there was a higher chance of you finding spare blankets–which you did. 

       One was still strewn across the back of a work chair, a black fur throw with no designs but a single tear at one corner, presumably where a tag had been. Another, this one cream-colored, knitted wool, sat in a crumpled pile on the very last desk of the entire area, arranged in the furthest corner of the library from the entrance. The bulb in the ceiling above this desk had been out ever since the first time you’d been in the library, so you weren’t surprised to figure that people crammed out naps between studying in this dark little corner.

       While gathering the two–scratch that, there was another on the ground next to you–three blankets in your arms, you spared a look outside the windows. Frost and a glaze of ice covered each corner where metal met glass, and, because you were on the first floor, you could see how high the snow had piled by now. It reached as high as your hips, with more flakes joining or splatting against the pane every second. 

       The sun, you could see, was just barely setting, the gray of the sky growing darker. Soon enough, it was darker inside than it was outside. 

       The power. It had gone out.

       “YN!”

       Because the heater sputtered a few more clicks before kicking the bucket, you could barely hear Oikawa’s voice, far off and muffled, over the large distance you’d covered in the library. The lights above you no longer buzzed, and instead an unsettling silence took over the building. 

       “Oikawa! The lights!” You hugged the blankets to your chest with one straining arm, the other fumbling with your phone flashlight. You began the trek back to the front desk, squinting to try and make out shelves and stray books along the way. Despite the long-sleeved T-shirt you wore, a chill was beginning to nip at your skin, and you slowed to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

       “I know, the weight of the snow must have taken out the electrical box or something!” His voice was getting closer; he must have been making his way towards you in return. 

       Passing through the towering bookshelves, you made it out and turned a corner onto the main path they created. A shadow of a figure stood inches from your face. 

       “Shit!” You flinched back, kicking a leg out blindly in self-defense. The tip of your snow boot struck something hard, and a strangled groan escaped the person as they dropped to the floor. Now level with the light of your flashlight, the person was finally visible–Oikawa hugged his shin to his chest with clenched eyes and gritted teeth. 

       “Ow, ow, ow, owie!” 

       You winced, your guilt growing worse after realizing he had just been searching for you. 

       “Oh, sorry,” you cringed, dropping the blankets and hovering your hands over his coiled form. You wanted to help, you just weren’t sure how. “Do you… do you want some ice for that?”

       The glare he threw you chilled you to the bone more than the weather outside.

       “C’mon,” you hid a snigger behind your hand, straightening up and offering him the other, “it was just a joke. I really am sorry. Let’s get back to the front desk; I’ll help you.”

       The huff he released ruffled the bangs on his forehead. “I should make you kiss it better,” he pouted, hand latching onto yours and pulling himself up. He almost yanked you down with him, but you’d stationed a hand on one of the shelves for support the second you felt his whole weight. You hadn’t expected it, but you supposed you should have guessed it–Oikawa’s body was packed with muscle from years of playing volleyball. 

       Even now, as the main setter of your school’s team, he had daily workouts that only made his body stronger. You’d passed him once during a warm autumn day; he was jogging around campus shirtless while you were on your way back to the dorms after just getting out of class. He was headed straight for you, and during that time, everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

       One, two, three… eight, you’d counted, eyes raking down his chest. The sweat glistened on his bare skin, bathing him in a glowing sheen due to the midday sun. A narrow waist trailed down, down to volleyball shorts hanging slanted on his hips. A smug snicker drew your gaze up, past a broad chest and shoulders and onto Oikawa’s simpering face.

       “Like what you see?” his lips mouthed, but you couldn’t hear over the pounding in your ears, blood rushing to your face. 

       “You’re disgusting” were the only words you could think to say, though they were the exact opposite of how you felt. Maybe you were actually speaking to yourself, ashamed at the way your body reacted to a man you hated with your entire mind. Nonetheless, his face fell in shock, and you brushed past him, ignoring how he’d stopped dead in his tracks and continuing back to your dorm. 

       The view from that day was still imprinted in your mind, as though somehow your mind was afraid of forgetting it. Forgetting him. 

       But you would never forget how much you despised his attitude. 

       You released his hand as quickly as you’d grabbed it, reaching back down and gathering the blankets off the floor. A red flush took over your cheeks, and for the first time you were glad the electricity had gone out. Maybe the rest of your body was beginning to freeze, but your face was completely warm. 

       “I’m not kissing anything, perv.”

       You tried to leave him stranded behind you, moving forward to return to the front desk through the darkness, but his longer strides easily caught up with you aside from a small limp. 

       “The night is still young, YN.”

       Instead of a proper response, you settled for a scoff, avoiding the gaze you knew was locked on your face. An amused hum escaped the man beside you, but you blocked it out. 

       Finally back at the front desk, you spared another look outside. The sun had set completely now, a dark blue hue now in the sky as more and more snow collected against the glass. It seemed the warmth of the room had been sucked away completely, leaving behind a stale, frigid atmosphere that dried up the back of your throat.

       “The blankets will certainly help,” Oikawa broke the silence behind you, “but we’ll need more than that. I snagged what I could from the backroom, some water bottles left in the fridge or so, but we need food.” When you shifted to face him, he nodded his head toward the vending machine next to the restrooms. 

       “You want to break into the vending machine?” you deadpanned. 

       “Unless you’ve got generous amounts of cash, of course,” he smiled sarcastically. 

       “Maybe we should wait until morning before we start committing crimes.”

       Oikawa shrugged. “Desperate times, YN.”

       “We’re not that desperate.”

       “Not yet.” He eyed the cloud of air his words left, releasing a larger, experimental breath and watching the fog that hung in the air afterward. 

       The sight made your stomach clench a little. If the cold from the outside had seeped in that quickly, you had a feeling three measly blankets weren’t going to last the two of you through the night. A wave of goosebumps ran along your skin when you thought about the cold too much. 

       You swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just have to make it till morning.” The strain in your arms from holding onto the blankets too long finally drew your attention back to them, and you busied yourself with arranging the throws on the floor. You handed one to Oikawa, saving one for yourself before spreading the last on the floor behind the front desk. 

       The rough carpet floor was less unforgiving when covered with a blanket, but you knew that in a matter of minutes your backside would be numb either way. Oikawa snagged the water bottles off the counter and passed them down to you before settling on the floor himself, a distance far too close for your comfort, but the heat he was giving off silenced any of your complaints. 

       Then it was too quiet. You cracked open a water bottle and took a sip, then you opened it again and took another sip. All the while, you saw Oikawa watch you in your peripheral vision, and when his staring came to be too much, you scrambled for your phone. 

       “Shit.”

       “What?”

       You patted your hands down your legging pockets once more, then along the ground. You flapped around your blanket, hoping to hear a weight thump against the floor, but there was nothing. 

       “My phone’s missing.”

       “When did you-”

       “Dammit, I left it on the ground after kicking you!”

       “Hey,” Oikawa screeched, offended. “You say that like it was my fault!”

       “Well,” you rose to your feet, Oikawa following suit, “you were the one who scared the shit out of me!”

       “Didn’t you know I was looking for you?” He followed you down the main walkway through the shelves, his presence inches from your back.

       “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to materialize right in front of my face!” In effort to escape his suffocating presence, you quickened your pace, eyes on the ground but not really seeing anything.

       “Oh, I’m sorry, my bad. Next time you go missing during a snowstorm, I’ll be sure to wear a bell so you know exactly where I am at all times.”

       “That’s not what-”

       Crack.

       The both of you froze in place, argument out of mind in an instant. 

       “Was that…?”

       “Uh oh.”

       You both directed your attention to underneath your foot, where an object lay cracked from your aggressive stomping. 

       Dropping your face into your hands, you let out a loud groan. “Could this day get any worse?”

       Oikawa had squatted down to investigate, nudging your leg out of the way before picking up your cracked phone. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was useless anyway.” He tapped and poked at the screen, toying with the buttons. “Looks like it was out of battery.”

       “Fuckkkkk.” You tore it from his hands, performing your own investigations of pats and brushes along the screen before calling it quits. “Isn’t yours out too?”

       Solemnly, he nodded, taking his phone out and allowing you to tap around on it before throwing it back in his pocket.

       “So we’re fucked?”

       “Majorly.”

       The pair of you slumped back to the main desk, flopping onto the ground and wrapping back up in your blankets. A shiver of cold mixed with frustration had taken over your body in a short span of time, causing your breaths to escape with slight chatters of your teeth. 

       You could feel it now, on the tips of your fingers and the end of your nose. A chill seeped through your leggings and slid up your shirt sleeves, sinking into every pore and leaving your hair standing on end. Your muscles began that all-too familiar buzz, a slow but steady trembling in effort to get your blood moving. Your toes curled in your boots. 

       “It’s cold,” you commented, the words slipping out like an afterthought. 

       You thought he’d agree, hum, or even nod his head. Instead, Oikawa scooted closer to you on the blanket, enough that his upper arm brushed the end of your shoulder. Then, slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, his arm rose and wrapped around you, not only covering you with his heat but also with his blanket, still soaked in the warmth from his body. 

       Mind blank, you didn’t move a muscle for what seemed to be five minutes after he’d moved to embrace you. 

       “Is this okay?” he’d whispered into the silence, voice soft yet hesitant. 

       “W-why?”

       “You said you were cold.” He shifted a little, but didn’t move away. And surprisingly enough, you didn’t want him to. “I–didn’t want you to be cold.”

       A blanket of silence falls over the two of you, an atmosphere of peace you never thought you’d experience with the brunette man in your life. His warmth left you in a sort of lethargic trance; you didn’t want to move away, though your mind was urging you to, nor did you have the energy to. For the first time, you wanted Oikawa close to you, and you didn’t want him to leave for a while.

       You were exhausted.

       Formerly, the two of you were both leaning back against the wall. Now, tucked into Oikawa’s side, your right arm pressed into the side of his chest while your left was cushioned a distance from the wall by Oikawa’s arm, wrapped sturdily around your shoulders and urging you to lean toward him instead. 

       Man, you were tired. 

       “YN?”

       “Hmm?” Your eyes cracked back open, and you shifted your gaze to him, waiting. 

       His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes still closed as a single brown tuft of hair fell across his forehead. In the light the moon reflected off the snow, you could see the length of his lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, the sharp edge of his jawline that you yearned to run a finger along. He didn’t bother to look at you for a response when he muttered, “Why do you hate me?”

       The question zapped you to attention like a taser, guilt flooding your chest for a reason you didn’t quite think you knew. There was a strong urge in you to pull away from him, but the hand on your arm tightened, halting any drastic movements.

       “I… I don’t…”

       “I know you do,” he sighed, tongue running out along his lips. “Please, just tell me.” There was a sort of surrender in his voice you never thought you’d hear. For a second, you missed his smug tone. You missed the teasing lilt of his voice. You missed the Oikawa you knew. 

       You wanted him back. 

       “You’re weirding me out, Oikawa.” In this position, you couldn’t poke him in the cheek, so you settled for his thigh. He barely flinched, peeking a single eye open. “Go back to acting like that smug little shit I know you are.” His lips quirked up.

       “I promise I’m still me, YN. I’m just a bit curious is all.”

       “Yeah, well, it’s freaking me out. I want the normal you back.”

       Wrong words.

       “You do?” He was wide awake at that, head straightened up and eyes wide and at attention. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. 

       “Nevermind.” You twisted in his grip to get your back facing him. 

       “No, no, noooo.” Both of his hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “Say it again. Say you want me again.”

       “God, you’re such a perv,” you stutter, voice wavering with his movements.

       “You’re so mean, YN!” he whines, finally releasing your shoulders. You think he’s given up and let down your guard slightly, a little curious at his expression. But when you turn your head to face him, two arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back and in between Oikawa’s outstretched legs. 

       “What the-” While you struggle in his arms, Oikawa only holds you closer, leaning back and taking you with him so your back rests against his front. He hooks his head over your shoulder, and you tense when you feel a breath of warm air against your ear. 

       A shiver tears through your body, but you’re relieved he doesn’t comment on it. 

       “Say it again, YN.” And he definitely feels the shiver that time. A breathless snicker heats up the skin of your neck, but you’re too trapped in his arms to escape the overwhelming feeling it erupts in you. 

       “God, I hate you,” you sigh instinctively. 

       Oikawa grows still. The fun and games are over, it seems, as he pulls his head away from your neck. The arms encircling your waist have become rigid. 

       There’s a thump against the wall. Then a pause. “Why?”

       You bite your lip, and though the words are on the tip of your tongue, you can’t seem to force them out. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, regretful. All of those ugly feelings he pulls out of you every other day, you draw out of yourself in this moment. 

       “Oikawa, I-”

       “Tooru,” he corrects.

       Flustered, you continue, “Tooru… whenever you… you always just… I never…” You groan at your lack of words, throwing frustrated hands over your face. The heat in your body, though small, rises. “I just feel stupid around you.”

       “Stupid?”

       “Like an idiot.”

       “Idiot?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Yeah?”

       “Stop it.”

       “Sorry,” he pauses, “I just… you think you feel stupid? Around me?”

       You don’t understand what he means, so you stay silent. 

       “So… you feel like an idiot around me… why, exactly?”

       “Because,” you wave your hands around, not really sure what your gestures are doing considering he can’t see them, “you just… you tease me all the time! And when we’re in class and you look at me and I just feel like I’ve got shit all over my face! And when you throw those stupid-ass parties, I feel so lame because it’s not like I don’t want to socialize, but I hate the way people act at parties! And then you come along and tell me that I should join, but I know it’s gonna fucking suck and I know you’re gonna see that I stick out during parties like a sore thumb and that makes me feel even worse and I-”

       “YN!” A hand slips from your waist, slapping over your mouth and effectively cutting off your rambling. A disbelieved breath sounds behind you. “Jesus Christ, YN.”

       And you feel like even more of an idiot. You take some pleasure in the fact that he can’t see you as tears begin springing in the corners of your eyes. 

       But then there’s a hard pressure against the back of your head. And then something soft against the back of your neck. “YN, YN, YN,” and you realize his lips are on your neck, his face buried into your hair, “God, you just… you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

       You didn’t know that.

       “The fact that you can say all of that, and think all of that, and feel all of that, without realizing why I even do it at all drives me insane.” You feel his mouth move against you with every word, your skin growing hot under his breath. You try to speak against his hand, and thankfully he pulls it away when you do, returning it to your waist as though it doesn’t muddle your mind. 

       “What are you talking about?” 

       And he laughs like it’s the dumbest question in the world. And maybe it is, but you have to know. 

       His lips are on your neck one last time before he pulls away, leaning back against the wall once more and taking you with him. “YN,” his fingers twitch against your skin, the cold of them biting through the fabric of your shirt, “do you have feelings for me?”

       And you feel like the biggest idiot of all, because you do. 

       You do have feelings for him, and you only just realized that now. 

       “Holy shit.” 

       Oikawa stiffens. “What?”

       “I have feelings for you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, mostly because you’re still in disbelief. Did you really? After all this time of thinking you hated him, of hating how he teased you, you seriously had feelings for him and you didn’t even notice?

       Stupid. So very stupid. 

       A loud scoff from Oikawa breaks you out of your stupor. 

       “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me nuts.”

       And you can’t even turn around and call him an asshole because he’s turning you in his grip and pressing his lips against yours. The hand on your chin, the other on your hip, all to pull you closer, spin you around and tug you onto his lap without separating from you. 

       Your hands are in his hair, and you’re tugging, and it’s that whine you always hear whenever you don’t respond to his teasing, that needy one you thought you always hated because it just shakes you to your core but now you get it, you finally understand it. And those long fingers, the ones he always slams onto your notes drunkenly whenever he’s having a party and you’re not there but you forgot to lock your door so now he’s in your room and he’s bothering you, begging you and toying with you to get your attention, those fingers that have stolen your notebook away and held over your head while he smiles and stubbles around, getting you to chase him–they’re on your hips and you know they’re leaving bruises and you like that they’re leaving bruises. 

       You like it all because it’s so cold tonight and he’s so warm and he’s always so warm and you want more, more, more. 

       And he hovers over you, and you gasp. You hate how he teases you because he loves it so much, and that makes you love it. You love it. 

       It is cold tonight. There’s a blizzard raging right outside the doors to the library, stacking up snow higher and higher. You’re both trapped, but you don’t want to leave. Because despite all of the cold, you’re both very, very warm. 

                               ~~~

       The next morning, when people find the two of you, they blame it on that little notion that runs through everyone’s minds when people are stuck together during a cold blizzard, because surely that’s what it must be. 

       And surely that’s why your cheeks are flushed and full of embarrassment, because although everybody knows how weird it can be, during such a life-threatening situation, it’s a desperate attempt to stay warm.

       So when they found you the next morning, thankfully safe and sound and wrapped around each other to try and preserve warmth, they were glad that you two innocent, poor little students, who must have been so scared to be trapped in a building without electricity and heat, were going to be okay, and that they could safely escort you out of the building and back to your dormitories with an official apology. 

       Until one of you asked if they could leave so you could finish what you’d started. 

       “Tooru, you fucking pervert!”

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Akaashi Keiji:

■  Burned Promises 🔔 ☔

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

■  Language of Love ☀️

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

■  Paper Cranes 🔔 ☔

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

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

Supernatural/Soulmate AU; Series (Ongoing)

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

■  Rose of Thorns 🔔 ☔

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

Bokuto Koutarou:

■  Cock Block 💥 (slight 💋)

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

■  A Hairy Situation (Soulmate AU) 🌦️

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

■  If It Ain’t Broke 🌦️

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

■  Love Me Through the Phone 💋

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

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

■  Praiseworthy  💋

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

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

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

Supernatural/Soulmate AU; Series (Ongoing)

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

Hinata Shoyo:

■  Home Alone 💥

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

■  Tug of War (Soulmate AU) 🔔 💥 ☀️

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

Iwaizumi Hajime:

■  Innocent Misunderstanding 💥

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

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

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

Kageyama Tobio:

■  Petty Competition 💥

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

■  Volleyball on the Brain (Soulmate AU) 💥☀️

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

Konoha Akinori:

■  One-Sided Future 🔔 ☔

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

Kozume Kenma:

■  Indebted and In Debt (Vampire AU) 💥

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

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

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

Kuroo Tetsurou:

■  Bed Head 💥(slight 💋)

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

■  The Deal 🌦️(slight 💋)

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

■  Forgive In Time 🔔 ☔

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

■  Just a Little Confession 🌦️

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

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

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

Miya Osamu:

Lapse in Judgement 🔔 ☔

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

Nishinoya Yuu:

■  Bad Sleeping Habits 💥(slight 💋)

You and Nishinoya have some pretty weird sleeping habits.

■  The Claw 💥

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

Oikawa Tooru:

■  Across the Hall 🌦️(slight 💋)

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

■  Fake Marks, True Love 🌦️(slight 💋)

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

■  I Wanna Build a Snowman ☀️

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

■  Maid for Him 🖤

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

■  The Miracle of Childbirth 💥

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

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

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

■  Talking to the Moon🌦️

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

■  Warm Embrace ☀️

Naked cuddles with Oikawa need no purpose.

Sawamura Daichi:

■  Grudges and Ice Cream 🌦️

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

Sugawara Koushi:

■  A Cut Above the Rest 🔔 🌦️

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

■  You Told Me So ☀️

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

Tendou Satori:

■  Indecipherable Secret Code 💥☀️

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

■  No One but You (slight 💋)

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

Terushima Yuuji:

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

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

■  The Bigger the Hoop  🌦️

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

Tsukishima Kei:

■  Bet 💥

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

■  Don’t Slouch 💥☀️

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

■  Loving Tradition 🔔 🌦️

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

■  Practice Makes Perfect 💥☀️

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

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

■  Sober Thoughts 🌦️(skippable 💋 scene)

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

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

■  Story Time ☀️

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

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

🟣Headcanons🟣

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When He’s Sick (Kageyama, Tendou) ☀️💥

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

Yandere Ushijima Headcanons 🔔 🖤 (slight 💋)

Yandere Popular Pairs x Reader (Kageyama-Hinata) 🖤

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

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

📱Fake Texts📱

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

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

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

He Accidentally Confesses Over Text (Tsukishima Version)

He Sends You a Nude (Ace Version) 💥💋 

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

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

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

You’re Horny (Third Gym Version) 💥

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

💬 Incorrect Quotes 💬

1  2   (3?)  4  

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

📝 Drabbles 📝

Nishinoya x Reader w/ unrequited feelings 1

Suna x Reader w/ unrequited feelings on Bday 1

Tsukishima x Sugawara!reader 1

Yandere Daichi/Sugawara 1

Yandere Bokuto 1  2  3  4  5  6

I...I can't not express how good your yandere Michael Gray fic was OH MY GOD it was so well written. Usually I am not a huge fan of Michael but this was just chef's kiss

ahhhh goodness thank you so much I'm happy you like it!! bruh i mean michael gray is such a cutie i wanted to try my hand at making him a yandere since there's not many fics of that so i'm glad you enjoyed it as well!

Sober Thoughts (Ushijima x Reader) (Partly NSFW)

(Contains a skippable NSFW scene)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: (Oh wow, um so this turned into a smut?? I honestly don’t know wtf happened) Umm, umm, umm. What. 600 followers?? How? When? Whyyyy? ASkfadshkf whatever, thank you guys so much for your support!! I’m just gonna grin ecstatically in my corner over here. No, I don’t look like a maniac, be quiet. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this lil’ drunk confession oneshot to celebrate!

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

Word count: 3636

        Tendou was a little taller than usual. And a little more… brown-haired. But you didn’t mind. You just needed to talk to someone.  

       You’ve loved Ushijima for years, ever since you first managed for his team in high school. He was so kind and sweet to you, always offering to help carry water bottles and encouraging you to be honest about the boys’ performance in a game. He loved to hear your insight, and you loved to hear his guttural voice ask for your insight. You stayed in contact ever since, all of you third years, and often went out on the weekends together. But your feelings for him eventually became too much.

       Tendou was the only one who knew how you felt, so you knew you could trust him with your drunk ramblings tonight. Seriously, you were hammered. Smashed. Absolutely shit-faced. Which explained why the wild redhead you had been friends with for a decade now looked so weird. And had a clone. Or three. 

       “YN?” Tendou opened the door to his apartment and looked down at you curiously. Did his voice get deeper too?

       “TENDOUUUUUU!” you screeched with drooping eyes. You held your arms open for a hug, but when he didn’t move a muscle you awkwardly slumped forward against his chest. “Hehe, have you been working out? You feel bigger than usual. Hehe.” Your voice held a drunken slur as you giggled into his shirt, poking the solid pec your forehead currently snuggled against. 

       “YN, it is almost one in the morning, try to lower your voice.” Ugh, he got stricter too. 

       “Jessussss, Tendouuuu, you sound like Wakajima now…” you trailed off, growing tired. He was really, really, really warm. 

       “‘Wakajima’? YN, I believe you are drunk. Shall I take you home?” You snorted at his chivalrous tone. 

       “No. You. Shall. Not,” you mumbled, poking his stomach with each word before stumbling past him and into his apartment. “Bingo,” you squinted when you spotted his sofa and trudged towards it, barely avoiding tripping over your own feet. 

       “DAMN HEELS!” You plop onto the leather furniture and hastily rip your five-inch heels off, sighing in relief as they release their satanic grip on your toes. “Ahhh, freedom.” You hiccup while throwing them in a forgotten corner of his living room, missing his lamp by just a hair. 

       “YN, please keep your voice down.” Tendou laments, trailing his bulkier form into his kitchen and grabbing a glass of water. 

       “Ohhh,” your eyes widen in surprise and tsk to yourself. “You’re right, you’re right, shhhhhhhh!” you loudly hush, throwing a finger against your lips while sagging back into his cold cushions. The TV is on, and you snatch the remote from under your dress-covered butt, giggling at the mishap while flicking through channels. 

       Tendou exhales slowly while lowering down to sit beside you, his heavier build causing the couch to dip and you to slip towards him. You allow gravity to take your head all the way to his thighs, chuckling when you land on his lap with a “flump.”

       “OH MY GOD, SESAME STREET?!” 

       “YN, please.” 

       “Right, sorry,” you nod before whisper-yelling, “Oh my God, Sesame Street!” You set the remote down on his coffee table and he places a glass of water and a bottle of pills alongside it. 

       “Aww, is that for me?” you coo, flipping your body so your back rests against the sofa and your head faces his chin. “You’re so sweet, Tendou!” 

       “YN, I’m not-”

       “Anyways,” you interrupt, kicking your bare against the slick arm of the sofa. The movement causes your little black dress to slink up your thighs just the tiniest bit, and Tendou clears his throat, desperately gluing his, hmm, dark green eyes (weird…) to your face. “I really want to talk to you about him.”

       “YN, I’m not-”

       “I know, I know,” you cut him off once again, crossing your arms against his chest. “You’ve been telling me to confess since high school, but I’m still scared!” With your nose scrunched up in frustration, you shake your head. Your hair must tickle his thighs below his basketball shorts, because he lets out a small snort that’s quickly disguised with a cough. 

       “Tendou, I just,” you purse your lips and avoid his burning gaze, “God, I like him so much. I think I might even love him.” Your voice still has a small slur, but your tone has grown serious. “He’s just… amazing. He makes me feel things I never have before, and I can’t get him out of my head at this point.”

       “Who?” Tendou asks, his recently-husky tone tinged with… sadness maybe?

       “Don’t be a jackass, Tendou,” you groan, jabbing him in the cheek as he peers down at you. “You know who.”

       “Remind me.” Even though he still has five or so twins, Tendou’s shape is slowly becoming clearer by the second. You can almost see a muscle twitching in his jaw. 

       “Wakatoshi.” Your cheeks burn, and you accidentally try to hide your face in his chest. You missed by a long shot.

       “YN!” he squeaks, turning your head back to face him while his ears tinge pink. Oopsies. Your face had almost turned to meet what was a few square inches south of his v-line. Wo-ah, guess who’s shirt lifted up?

       “Sorry, sorry!” you cry out, hiding your embarrassment behind your hands. Elmo chatters in the background about how to count to ten, which was the number of seconds it took for Tendou to respond. 

       “It’s um… it’s okay.” You can hear him gulp from your spot on his lap, and slowly uncover your face at his words. “So,” he continues hesitantly, “you like Wakatoshi?” He sounded so uncomfortable, but the mention of your crush makes your head start to swim again. 

       “Yes, I do!” Pressing your head harder into his bulky thighs, you sigh exasperatedly and fold your hands along your stomach. “What am I supposed to tell him, Tendou? It’s been years, I highly doubt he likes me back.” 

       “I’m sure he does.”

       “No he doesn’t,” you laugh bitterly. “Fuck! What do I do?”

       “Just tell him how you feel.” Tendou’s fingers start to comb through your hair, making your scalp itch every time he hits a tangle.

       “Ohh yeah, sureeee. Just go over to his apartment, knock on his door and scream, ‘I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I HAVE BEEN EVER SINCE WE FIRST TALKED!’”

       “I’m sure he would like that.”

       “Pshh, sure, and then- hiccup!-and then tell him about how I can’t stop thinking about when he first touched my hand while helping me pick up the water bottles. And that time when I wrapped his finger after spiking too much. And that time when I accidentally hugged him after you guys won that game, and that… that other time… when you- hiccup!- guys lost to… that one team-” You pass out in his lap, your rant finally coming to an end as you give in to your foggy mind and aching body. 

                               ~~~

       “Ughhh.” 

       All you can do is groan. The lights out your window are so bright, and increase the burn of the already-present headache. Birds tweet melodically outside, just loud enough that you can hear it through the pounding in your brain. 

       God, what happened?

       The last thing you remember from last night is walking out of the club and down the street, then your memories abruptly cut off directly after. 

       Then you realize something. 

       THIS ISN’T MY BED!

       “Oh fuck,” you rasp, your throat still rubbed raw from the alcohol. Hesitantly, you try to feel under the sheets for your clothes, and sigh in relief when you find them still intact. The mattress you lay on is larger than your own at home, and it’s warmth begs to be reveled in for just a second, a minute, maybe an hour longer. But the fear that you’re in some stranger’s apartment reigns supreme, and you know you need to escape. Fast. 

       Scrambling out of the hefty sheets, you sniff the air instinctively while creeping over to the door. Is that… bacon? 

       Drool begins to gather in your mouth, and you creep through the cracked doorway to track down the heavenly scent. 

       Sizzles echo from down the hall, and you start to realize that the apartment appears familiar. Why am I at Wakatoshi’s? 

       Tip-toeing around the corner, you peer into the kitchen and drop your jaw at the sight. 

       Well hello there, back muscles.

       “Toshi?” you gulp, stepping onto the hardwood floor hesitantly. 

       “YN, you’re awake. I left a glass of water and some pills out for you.” He nods his head towards the kitchen counter, and you gratefully take a seat at a stool and down the pain-relievers in one gulp, choking down the cold water like a man stranded in a desert. 

       “Thanks,” you mumble, licking your lips while rubbing your temples to relieve the ache. “Hey, do you know why I’m here?”

       “Yes,” he chuckles deeply. His voice is still thick with sleep, causing a shiver to jolt down your spine. “You came here last night thinking I was Tendou.”

       You join him in giggling at the thought, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “Why in the world was I- OH FUCK!” 

       The memories clash all at once in your brain as events from last night hit you like a dump truck. “Oh my God!” you whisper, scandalized. Running a hand through your hair, you stare into Ushijima’s humored eyes while your own widen in horror. “Oh my God! You didn’t even care to tell me you weren’t Tendou?!”

       The intimidating volleyball player only hums in confirmation, setting down a plate of bacon in front of you before leaning his palms against the counter. You catch an eyeful of six pack and bite your lip at the sight, almost drawing blood when it flexes with a quiet laugh. 

       “No, but to be fair, you talked a lot last night,” he nods, throwing the kitchen cloth he had been using over his shoulder while eyeing you up and down. 

       “Could- umm, could you put a shirt on before we discuss this?” The temptation to stare is calling out your name, and you try so desperately to remember that it’s the inside that matters, YN!

       All muscles are actually interior, though, right? So you’re technically fine!

       “I think we should talk about it now, YN.” His face grows darker as he watches you swallow nervously. The seriousness in his tone leaves you to snatch up a strip of bacon and hastily chew on it.

       “Do we have to?” you ask with a mouthful of food. “Because I think if we gave it a little time, we would both forget it ever happened.” You nod self-assuredly and shrug at the proposition, but go rigid when Ushijima leans his face closer to yours. 

       “I don’t want to forget. I want to remember that forever, and I want you to tell me that you meant it.”

       “...I was just drunkenly rambling-”

       “Don’t lie to me, YN.” He snags your hand just as it reaches for its fifth bacon strip. “Tell me honestly, and you can decide where to go from there. Did. You. Mean. It.” Ushijima has only ever looked serious during volleyball. That’s just the kind of person he was. But right now was different, in a whole new, wonderful way. Because right now he’s watching you like you could place the sun in the sky. Like you could change the tides and shift the wind. 

       “Yes.” You clench your eyes shut and draw in on yourself, clammy hands trembling against the marble counter. “I’ve been in love with you ever since high school, Toshi.” 

       For a solid minute, you sit tensely and the only audible sound in the room is his hitched breaths. Then rough fingertips trace against your cheek, begging you to open your eyes as another hand encompasses yours on the kitchen surface. Ushijima’s eyes, so dark, so endless, are swirling rivers of olive green, tainted with the occasional black speck as he stares lovingly into your gaze. His sharp jaw clenches, his thin, pink lips press together and his brow furrows into a hardened line as he watches you, and you wait with baited breath for his reaction.

       “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words.” His fingers tilt up your jaw so your lips can meet his perfectly. He’s surprisingly gentle as he caresses your cheeks, your chin, your jaw. Everything. He’s so careful with you as his fingers intertwine with your own. You can feel the years of hard practice on his hands, but he handles you like a china doll. Like you would break, if he pressed too harshly, but also that you would slip away if he lessened his hold in the slightest. 

       You release a soft moan against his lips, and his chest rumbles in return as he makes his way around the counter, not separating from you for even a second. 

       Everything is slow and unhurried, from when he picks you up bridal style to when he places you down against his mattress, pressing your hips into the sheets to keep you from slipping away. A strong knee settles between your thighs, trailing closer and closer to where you need him most. 

                               *SMUT AHEAD*

       A mewl tears its way out of your throat at the feeling of him rubbing against your warmth, holding you in place as you writhe from the feeling. It’s too much so suddenly, but it’s also not enough, and you need more.

       “More,” you whimper against his lips, “I need more, Toshi.”

       “Patience, princess.” His husky whisper sends sparks down to the center of your stomach and heat gathers in your core. You clench your thighs tightly around his thigh at the feeling and he smiles against your lips. One of his hands slips under your back, unzipping your dress while the other glides down to the inside of your thigh, petting the sensitive skin and leaving your core throbbing. 

       “Hng, Toshi,” you whine desperately. He attempts to slide the tight dress off you, but you’ve grown too hot and bothered. A loud “rip” sounds through the air along with a grunt under Ushijima’s breath. Your little black dress is tossed to the side, but your mind is too hazy to care, or rather to notice. You had no need for a bra with the dress, and Ushijima curses quietly at the discovery. 

       “Fuck, princess, you went out like this?” His pupils flare at the sight of your bare chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to run the pads of his thumbs over your peaked nipples. You gnaw on your lip, trying to stay silent to not disturb his neighbors, but the ace towering over you doesn’t seem to appreciate that idea. One hand slides down your stomach, past your navel and snaps your panties against your skin while the other massages the swell of your breast. 

       “Aah, Toshi!” A slight quirk of his lips tells you he’s enjoying every move you make, and every sound you have to offer him. Your hands snap up to his hair, yanking him down into a deep kiss that implies just how much you need him. His teeth clash against yours and his tongue fights you for dominance, sharing and giving each other tastes as his hand slips into your soaked panties. 

       “God, princess, you’re so wet already. So good for me.” He smiles into the kiss before separating and pecking the tender skin of your chin and throat. A long finger glides over your slick folds for just a second, leaving you breathless and shivering in his hold. Your hands tug his brown tufts tighter when he repeats the motion, gathering your wetness and dragging it up to your aching bud, just barely brushing it. 

       “What do you want?” he whispers, biting your neck while he hovers his touch over where you desperately crave him. 

       “You,” you choke out, swallowing dryly while trying to catch your breath. 

       “Be more specific, princess. What do you want me to do?” A bruise is formed from where he nibbles just below your ear, and the sting of its formation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. Two fingertips harshly tweak your nipple, leaving you to cry out.

       “Oh God, touch me Toshi! Please touch me!” 

       “Of course, love.” His hand leaves your breast and skims your body all the way down to under your thigh, pulling it away from his knee and pressing it against the bed to open you to his sight. The other presses against your dripping sex, leaving his thumb to rub quick circles around your clit. Your body jolts and twitches from the stimulation while you scream out his name. 

       “Toshi!” 

       He nods encouragingly against your neck, urging you on while your nails dig into his shoulder blades. At last, his head moves lower and lower down your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your chest and against your belly button before he slides your ruined panties down your quivering legs, instantly placing himself between your thighs as soon as they are tossed and forgotten over his shoulder. Your reach isn’t long enough, so you settle for dipping your fingers into his scalp once more, scratching and tugging at every movement his thumb makes against your swollen bud. 

       Cool breaths blow against your womanhood, causing it to clench desperately around nothing. Both his hands move for a split second to draw your legs up and over his shoulders, leaving you to cross your ankles against his back while his face dips closer to your core. 

       “Toshi, please!”

       “So needy, princess,” he rumbles with a smirk, “but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. I’ll be the only one who touches you this way from now on.” His eyes flicker up and watch yours, swirling with desire and longing before he plunges a finger deep inside your soaked heat. The abrupt ability to clench around something leaves you crying out in relief.

       “Oh fuck, oh God yes!” 

       His lips wrap around your bud, sucking and running his tongue over it in deliciously quick intervals. Every switch is accompanied with a stronger thrust of his finger, and he adds another before curling them up against the spot deep inside of you that has you gushing more against his chin. You can no longer think straight, and the only word falling from your lips is his name at this point. 

       “Toshi! Toshi!” 

       The moans spur him on, and his fingers thrust even faster inside you, hitting your g-spot every time with a spontaneous precision that you can only thank his years of perfect spike-aiming for. Suddenly, just as his teeth nip your clit causing your whole body to twitch and scream, his fingers leave your clenching core and both his arms wrap around your trembling thighs, peeling you even more open to him. His nose digs into your clit as his tongue laps at your glistening folds like a man starved. You can’t breathe, you can barely speak as the pleasure coils tightly in your chest, choking you up in your throat. 

       “Yes, Toshi!” you sputter out, not ever wanting him to stop. “Harder! Oh fuck!” His hands dig brutally into your hips, holding you in place to prevent you from bucking against his face. The inevitable bruises are long forgotten when he groans at your taste. The vibration leaves you squealing just as his muscle delves into your aching sex. After his nose accidentally presses into your pulsing nub just a tad too harshly, the coil snaps. 

       “Toshi!” you scream, clenching your eyes closed as your whole body wracks in pleasure. Muscles in your legs flutter and tremble as you release with jumbled nonsense streaming from between your lips. Ushijima grunts in surprise at your sudden orgasm, and pulls back with burning eyes at your twitching form. 

       “Damn, princess, I didn’t know you could squirt.” His raspy words cause your eyes to rip open and you hastily get up on your elbows to see what he was talking about. 

       “Oh my God!” you whine in embarrassment, observing your wetness as it drenched his chin and bare chest. Droplets fell from his chin and dribbled into divots of his six pack while he watched you wolfishly. “I didn’t know I could do that! I’m so sorry!”

       You drop your head back to the bed behind you and cover your flushed face with embarrassment. Every muscle in your body ached from the position it was previously held in, and you screech in surprise and scramble away from a sudden brush against your overstimulated clit. You watch in shock as Ushijima’s mouth forms an abnormal lopsided grin. He observes the wetness he had collected on his index finger with darkened eyes.

       “God, I love you,” he mutters, his ravenous gaze suddenly flickering up to yours as he kneels onto the bed, slowly making his way towards you. His hands trail up from your ankles to your calves to the undersides of your knees while he encourages them apart once more, no matter how tightly you press them together. 

       “Let me make you do it again.”

Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) ~Chapter 7~

(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: Ayooo happy 2021 y’all! We fucking made it! I’m glad y’all are here to kick off the new year with me, and as a celebration (and a lil apology bc I’m gonna have to go on hiatus again), here’s the next part to Reborn! I wish you all luck and happiness in the new year, and, as always, enjoy!

Tag List: @burntcilantro  @alloverbutterflies  @neonghxst  @zaejia  @momothepeachgirl  @black-veil-chemicalz  @bumblebeel  @blxkstar  @keigosbitch  @spicyiwa  @rikorene  @idiot-juice-enthusiast  @cherriomilkmangos  @floriane4536  @shimy-deko  @lanceyfancypants  @asteroikawa  @bokutowo  @ichiraku-verse  @samie-babie  @astro-anomaly  @hq149  @paganandshit  @erinoikawa​  @missbuwan  @thatonesinglefake​  (some *still* don’t work 😔)

Word count: 8155

        Some days you couldn’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror. When you’re feeling guilty after a buffet or just not wanting to face the music of an all-nighter. Maybe even after running over a squirrel on the road.

        The back of your mind whispered now was one of those times, but you ignored it. 

        Tears streamed down Bokuto’s face, flushing his cheeks and highlighting his golden irises. And yet, it seemed he still couldn’t find it in himself to meet your gaze. 

        “You’re a monster and I hate your guts,” you sneered, letting a foreign wave of fury wash over you. It was like your emotions had been hijacked and someone was pressing all your buttons at once. Your inability to control yourself made you even more pissed off. 

        Akaashi could only stand by and watch, pain and disappointment reigning on his face as Bokuto bawled like the baby he was. 

        You shifted your gaze back to the vampire and stepped closer to his bars. “Your head is emptier than the coffin in my grave. You always act all tough, but I know what you really are--a sad, old, lonely vampire clutching onto the only friend in his life while chasing after girls.” I don’t mean that. “And do you wanna know what else?”

        Like the prick of a needle, a headache stirred at the base of your neck and stretched to the top of your skull. Small jabs of pain dug under the superficial layers of your scalp and pierced the edges of your brain. Stop please. I don’t mean any of this.

        Just when you bit your tongue in effort to fend off the ache, Bokuto met your gaze for the first time in minutes. 

        Agony dominated his innocent eyes. His lower lip was drawn into his mouth and gnawed on enough to trail crimson down his chin. Each bone in his body appeared to tremble while his Adam’s apple bobbed every few seconds. But not once did he speak. 

        He didn’t beg you to stop or plead for you to take it all back. There was this aura around him that told you he was going to lie down and take this without even a hint of fighting back. No matter what you threw at him, he was willing to be your punching bag for however long you would let him.

        And that boiled your blood. 

        You stomped closer to his cage and shoved a hand through the bars, reaching out for him only to snicker when he dove away. 

        “Just as I thought.” You rolled your eyes and pulled away. “You’re a coward. Afraid to let me even touch you. Doesn’t that make you wonder how I felt after the last encounter we had?”

        He whimpered.

        “Exactly. I was terrified. You tore into me like roadkill. Like you wanted to kill me. How does that make you feel, Bokuto? Do you hate yourself for what you’ve done? Do you even feel bad? Or is it just that the beast you bury inside yourself finally took over and-”

        “That’s enough.”

        “Oh!” You simper at Akaashi. “Look who’s decided to join the party-”

        “That’s enough!” The wizard’s nostrils flare as he shakes his head at you. Voice lowered, he mumbles to himself incoherently while studying you like a hawk. “You don’t mean any of that, YN.”

        “Oh yeah? Does your light magic tell you that?”

        Akaashi’s eyes narrow at you. A million questions fly through his mind right before you while he reads every inch of your face. Then his lips part.

        “Does your stomach hurt, my love?” His tone is surprisingly gentle compared to the scowl he has carved into his features. You stumble back and furrow your brows. 

        “What?”

        “Do you have a headache? Do your toes itch?”

        “What the hell are you on?”

        His jaw irks and his shackles tap on the iron bars of his cell while he ponders. 

        Meanwhile, Bokuto sat crumpled on his knees, looking like his soul has torn in two. His head has lowered to his chest and dust stirs on the ground where his tears fall. Both hands lay curled into fists on his thighs, clenching and unclenching in an irregular pattern. 

        Frustration coils around your throat, forcing you to speak as you grow impatient. “Spit it out, Akaashi. What the fuck are you looking for?”

        Once more, the wizard’s eyes raise to meet yours head on as he studies you for a moment, looking stumped. “There’s got to be something… oh!” Standing up straighter, his cuffs clatter and clang as he gathers your attention, watching your every move. 

        “My love, how do you feel about us?”

        “Why does that-”         “Do you love us?”

        “W-what?” you exclaim, staggering back. In your chest, your heart jumps and stutters, gathering a zoo of butterflies in your stomach. For some reason, the question… excites you in a way. Not in an angry way, either, but more so a “now’s the time, just spit it out” way.

        Except you had nothing to spit. 

        Or, more precisely, you had nothing you wanted to spit. 

        Yes! Say it!

        Like your lips were sewn together, you force yourself to stay silent. No words seem to gather in your mind at Akaashi’s question. Wasn’t it too soon for something like that?

        Of course it was. And you… h-hated them anyway, right?... No?

        Fuck. 

        What was love anyway? Was it wanting to spend time around Bokuto and Akaashi? Was it wanting to be held in their embrace for as long as they would allow? Maybe it was wanting to have conversations about the dumbest things that slowly grow more serious and intense, or yell at sports games on television that you didn’t even know the rules to. 

        Surely it wasn’t any of that, because you wanted all of that. 

        “My love.” Even Bokuto had perked up to answer the question, head tilting just enough to glance at you through his lashes. Akaashi, however, seemed to read you like a book. “Please. Answer the question.”

        “I… y-... I… love… you.” You choked your way through each syllable, then the words came out as easy as a breath. “I love you.”

        A giant weight lifted off your shoulders and suddenly you could breathe again. The constriction around your throat lessened into nothing and your chest felt so light you could laugh. The freedom to have control over your emotions and your thoughts was almost as intoxicating as the dopamine flooding to your brain. 

        Akaashi looked like he could pass out in relief while Bokuto collapsed onto his back and starfished. “Thank fuck,” the former sighed. 

        It was only when weeps began to emit from the latter that you realized you were on damage control duty. “Oh God, Bo, I’m so sorry.”

        All he did was cry harder, body shuddering with every whine. Remorse tugged you to the floor and led you to reach for his outstretched leg, patting the top of his foot just enough to gather his attention. 

        “Bo please! Look at me.”

        He grew quieter, but only a touch as you struggled to catch his eye. You shook his foot hard, but it was only when you used all the strength you could muster to drag him toward you that he finally gave in and met your gaze. 

        “Bokuto… Bo. I… I’m so-” you bit your lip as a sob caught in your throat. 

        You loved these men--truly, you did. The thought of losing their smiles, their warm hugs, the care and gentleness they had only for you… it killed you. After today, you weren’t quite sure you could manage another second without them. 

        These two… powerful, tender, doting beings. They were prepared to risk their lives for you and more; you couldn’t help but feel yourself falling harder for them by the second. 

        “Bokuto, I love you,” you mumbled through a wave of emotion, “and I’m so sorry.”

        The words hit home and you could see the spiral it flung the vampire into. Love, anger, sadness, joy--each one passed before your eyes in his very own as he studied your face. 

        No one had ever looked at you like that. 

        And yet it felt like he’d been doing it for centuries. 

        One hard yank and you were tugged flat against the cell bars as Bokuto embraced you. 

        So warm. So, so, dreadfully warm and adoring that it stung the corners of your eyes. In his hold, you felt like you could face anything head on, because he-

        No.

        Because both of them would be by your side. The wizard and vampire before you were willing to take a bullet and more just to see you smile. A love like that was rare. 

        Destined.

        You owed them so much for how they’d loved you. 

        So you patted Bokuto’s back, running a hand through his familiarly calming hair just for good measure before pulling away and stepping back. 

        Akaashi’s hand fell from its place on your back and returned to his side before both men faced you. 

        A rush of responsibility ran through you like a bucket of ice, refreshing you for what was to come. 

        They had taken care of and loved you for so long, and now it was time for you to return the favor. 

        “I’m going to get you guys out of here.”

        Before they could argue, you dashed up the stairs and out of the dungeon, in search of the man who had started it all. 

                                ~~~

        As expected, the halls of Kuroo’s mansion were chilling to the bone as you stepped through the occasional moon’s ray in search of the cat. 

        Opalescent, marble floors absorbed and amplified your every footstep as you made your way through the halls, shoes squealing every few strides. In the heat of the moment, your grand idea to locate Kuroo’s room and steal the key to the cells was… overzealous at best.

        At worst, it had one too many holes. For one, you had no clue where Kuroo’s room was. For two, you had no idea where you were. Unlike Akaashi and Bokuto’s home, there was no atmosphere of familiarity and, more importantly, no vampire or wizard to direct and guide you around the place. Here, you were a fish out of water. 

        Though, you had to admit the supernatural must all have the same taste in interior decorating. Ancient-yet-creepy paintings of landscapes or figures seemed to litter the ruby walls and you barely managed to not stub your toe on the sporadically-placed vases and tables of the corridors. Emerald green vines framed each window that lit your path along with the single chandelier you found consistent with every high ceiling of the halls. 

        And yet, not a sound could be heard. Your feet began to twinge at the miles you felt like you’d walked in search of… well, you didn’t know what, exactly. If Kuroo found you, you had no idea what to say to him. However, you also had no clue on how to locate his bedroom either. 

        At this point, you were praying for a miracle while wandering the halls like a lost kitten. 

        Not a single soul had crossed your path, not even a lazing Kenma who’d barely found the effort to locate a couch before crashing to play his game. 

        Stuck in a labyrinth of ruby and white halls, you wanted to tear your own hair out for leaving the dungeon with a half-baked plan. Of course, you’d often thought of knocking on any one of the wooden doors you’d come across on your weary travels, but there was some apprehension that came with each potential interaction. 

        Though you were certain Kuroo had informed everyone that he’d okayed you going down to meet Bokuto and Akaashi, you were positive he wouldn’t be okay with you wandering the halls. Now was one of few times you actually wished you had supernatural abilities of some sorts so you could defend yourself should any one of the werecats housing the mansion find you. 

        “YN?” Like that one. 

        A hand settles on your shoulder, somehow scaring even more of the bejesus that had already fled from you when the voice had first spoken. 

        As you turn, the face that greets you is even less surprising than the smile that rests on its face. Kuroo drops his hand from your shoulder, leaving a burn in its wake as he steps closer to you. The distance between you two could violate the rules of not only basic personal space but also any high school prom’s as well. 

        “Reunion’s over already?” And there it was--that sly, devious glint in his glowing eyes that you so dearly wanted to smother. 

        For an instant, you feel like a rat just waiting for the trap’s mechanism to snap down on your neck and end your suffering. 

        However, something in you urges to not give up so easily. You still had a lot to fight for, and judging by the anticipatory look in Kuroo’s eyes, you weren’t caught just yet.

        But… just how could you worm your way out of this one?

        “I, uh…” Think YN, think! “Umm…”

        Cue the lightbulb.

        “I couldn’t stand to be in that damned room with them any longer!” you sneered uneasily. You mustered as much disgust on your face as possible, and with Kuroo right in front of you, such a task was almost too easy. 

        The corners of his mouth turned upward devilishly. “Good. So I assume that means you’re…?”

        Your brow raises before you realize and rush to finish his question. “O-oh, yes, yes! I am totally and completely… over… them. Boy do I really hate their guts.”

        Though you weren’t exactly up for a Golden Globe, it seemed anything you gave Kuroo right now he would lap up like a starved kitten. 

        It wasn’t hard to see that Kuroo was willing to try and get you over Bokuto and Akaashi by any means necessary, but him being so desperate gave you a way past the very own walls he thought he had built so well. 

        If this was chess, you were almost sure you had him in check. 

        You just needed to make one last move to really ensure such a swindle. 

        A breath escaped Kuroo’s lips easily when his jaw dropped at your hug. One minute you were across from him, giving your best impersonation of spite. The next, your arms were wrapped around his midsection and your face was pressed into his chest. 

        Cologne of sea salt mixed with sandalwood wafted up both your nostrils with one fell swoop, invading and fogging your mind. Though not altogether unpleasant, there was something simply too foreign and external about it that made it leagues behind what you knew. Any day would you rather take in Akaashi’s scent of lavender with hints of spices and Bokuto’s pine and leather. 

        Not that you were a serial man-sniffer though.

        Nudging yourself back to the task at hand, you waited until it seemed just safe enough to search Kuroo’s jacket pockets for anything key-shaped. 

        The man in your arms seemed too shell-shocked to notice. In the last minute, he hadn’t made a single sound nor movement to reciprocate the hug; instead, all you could hear was the expected mouth-breathing of a dropped jaw. 

        Ever so slowly, you run your hands along his jacket in what you hope seems like an adoring motion, and yet there are no suspicious lumps--anywhere, thankfully. 

        No little bumps along the polyester, crimson fabric that seemed to resemble anything but a candy wrapper. Part of you wanted to search the pockets of his shorts but logic told you touching anything lower than the waist for a hug would definitely not end in a hug. 

        In any case, it seemed your internal debate on whether to cop a feel of Kuroo’s pants’ pockets or not was no longer the biggest issue. Kuroo finally came back to reality and returned the embrace. 

        It was obvious this was no friendly hug to him; he believed it to mean so much more than that. Long, athletic arms wound around your waist and tightened to the point where you struggled to inhale more than a gasp. Black locks tickled your neck the instant Kuroo dropped his head onto your shoulder with a smile so large you could feel it through your sweatshirt. 

        He was happy, so, so happy to finally have you in his hold. From what you could feel, even his own hands were shaking at the thought. 

        “God, I-... I’ve missed you so much, kitten.” He nuzzles deeper into your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you in my arms again.”

        Kuroo was in love. Even the blind could see it. Over the centuries, he had fallen for you so hard he was actually shaking with joy from getting to hug you again. 

        The man before you was lonelier than you ever thought. He was a king without a queen, a man without his woman.

        A husband without his wife.

        Oh right. He-... We were… married.

        Centuries ago. Many, many centuries ago. And yet, Kuroo still believes that bond can be mended. He wanted that girl… you back, and now…

        Now you’ve just resparked that hope that he could have you again.

        But he couldn’t. The hug was just a ruse; it was just some way for you to get back with your real soulmates. 

        This poor, rejected cat before you would be left behind yet again. 

        A horrible, terrible ripping scratched at your heart. Isn’t he innocent in all this?

        Akaashi’s words, muddled but still clear in their purpose, came back to your mind all at once. 

        “He went mad without his queen. Many supernatural species perished under his tyrannical reign, and as a result became extinct. In the remaining villages, he hung posters of you. Wanted, dead or alive.”

        As kind as he was, he was still one of the main reasons children are scared to leave their beds at night. Monsters, vicious and uncaring, will attack just for spite. Supernatural beings are no different. 

        Perhaps, somewhere along the way he had changed. But you couldn’t place all your hope on a maybe. 

        This was still the man who held the ones you loved locked up under your own two feet. He was still the one who ordered his soldier to shoot when he’d first found you so many years ago. 

        Kuroo was still the man who’d made you become cursed. He was still the one who’d started it all. 

        “Kuroo?”

        “Hmm?”

        “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

                                ~~~

        His room was, of course, in the deepest, darkest end of a corridor in one half of the mansion you completely forgot existed. Naturally. 

        As if you would disappear any second, Kuroo kept his hand interlocked with yours the entire duration of the walk to his room, and he didn’t dare release it now that you’d arrived. 

        When the lavish double doors open, it’s like you’ve stepped into a larger version of your old apartment. At least, it was easily double the size. 

        Directly across from you is a balcony of marble white and rose gold. Flowers bloom along the railing and lead downward just out of eyesight from the glass doors that trap it outside. Inside, meanwhile, there’s a four poster bed large enough for ten with a frame that reaches just up to the ceiling, covered in black curtains, black sheets and crimson pillows. A plush carpet rug leads to steps up to the enormous bed and the two wooden nightstands on the side of it. Directly opposite of it is a flat screen no doubt visible from space and sitting on a cherry red console. To the left of the TV is one black door and to the right is another. 

        Kuroo leads you inside before you can ogle the room anymore. “You like it?”

        Bitch-

        “Are you pulling my leg right now?” You breathe out, eyes still trying to take in the sheer vastness of the room itself. “Like… holy shit.”

        “I’m glad you like it,” he snickers. “I like seeing you breathless.”

        And, of course, the pervert had to ruin it.

        His comment sobers you up and makes you realize something--searching for that damned key is going to be worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. Fuck me.

        Just as you start inspecting the room with what little time you’ve had inside it, Kuroo spins you to face him. “So…”

        “So…”

        The grin on his face turns soft as he reaches a hand up to caress your face. The touch, however loving, feels wrong. Like “he’s just wiping his germs on your face” wrong. Deep down, you’re thankful the connection between you and your boys is so strong because otherwise you were sure Kuroo’s charm would have worked wonders on you by now. 

        The room was beautiful and Kuroo was being so sweet, but now was your chance. You needed to find that key and get out of here.

        Kuroo’s face leaning in closer to yours drew you back into reality. “I’m glad you like it in here. You can stay as long as you like.” His pupils enlarge, giving you warning signals like no other. 

        His head lowers just a bit closer, lips parted, and just when his eyes flutter closed… 

        Smooch.

        Eyes wide, you watch the floor as Kuroo’s lips press against your cheek. “Can you go get my clothes?”

        Instantly, he pulls away and presses a finger to his lips, gaze shocked and locked on your face. 

        “...From my room, please?”

        “Y-yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, of course. I’ll go… do that.”

        Never before have you seen Kuroo so flustered and if the situation had been less serious than you were sure you would have laughed. Instead, you felt just as antsy as Kuroo, but for an entirely different reason. 

        Without so much as a farewell, Kuroo hastens to leave the room, closing the door behind him and taking what must have been a brisk jog down the hall to cool himself off. 

        You wait until thirty seconds have passed after his steps turned inaudible before you hop to it, foraging every visible inch of the room before going deeper. 

        “It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself as you yank up the carpet, observing a concerning amount of dust. “Just don’t tell Bokuto and Akaashi and there won’t be a problem.”

        Lord knows one of them could probably smell Kuroo on you. You just hope they’ll save the questions for a later date. Like never. 

        No key anywhere. Not in the console, nor the nightstands. Not under the heavy-ass mattress nor behind the curtains of the balcony. Nothing. You even searched in the reading corner that had somehow passed your first survey of the room, on the bookshelves and under the two sofas. Nada.

        Summoning the patience to confront whatever was behind the two doors, you opened each one and, for lack of surprise, observed an abnormally large bathroom and a walk-in closet. 

        For a centuries-old werecat’s closet, it was surprisingly bare. One side was completely empty save for hundreds of hangers on a single metal bar. The other side was only half-full with t-shirts, coats, and suits hanging while jeans and shorts sat gathering dust on the floor. Judging by the look of things, you wouldn’t be surprised if Kuroo came back with more than just one pair of clothes for you.

        Hopefully, by then you would be long gone. 

        The bathroom, however, was much more of a challenge. About twenty cupboards each had their own stock of individual toiletry supplies, and yet not a single one held a key. You even had to perfectly restack twelve packages--not rolls--of toilet paper in the same, annoyingly perfect pyramid shape. He even had feminine products, but you supposed there should be no surprise there. 

        Obviously, he’s been preparing for you for quite a while. You’d be touched if you weren’t so creeped out by the sight of it altogether. 

        At last, you slumped out of the bathroom with sore arms and legs. Standing on your tiptoes and reaching up into cupboards took a lot more out of you than you thought. Such pain, and all for nothing. 

        Especially when you noticed a glint of something sparkling just above the carved doorway to Kuroo’s room. 

        The key. 

        It had been sitting in plain sight this whole time. However, spotting it wasn’t the issue. Reaching it would be. 

        Regarding the doorway, it was polished wood carved into a perfect arch to fit both doors, and at the top sat the sculpted head of a roaring lion. Just at the top of his dusty mane was the key, and no matter how high you jumped, you knew you wouldn’t be able to reach it. 

        It was high--almost three-of-you-stacked high. The bed was too far away to try and launch yourself, and neither nightstand looked sturdy enough to hold you. So what could…?

        The sofas!

        They were huge and a long ways away. Not only that, but you figured with the amount of time Kuroo had been away that he’d found clothes for you to “sleep in” tonight about a hundred times over. What was truly concerning was that he hadn’t shown up yet.

        Counting your blessings, you didn’t bother wasting any more time. Quickly, you dashed over to one of the black leather sofas and started to push it with all your might.

        Uh oh.

        No, not “uh oh” it was too heavy; in fact, the chair was actually seated on sliders to make mobility easy. 

        What was “uh oh” was the heavy steps finally making their way back to this room. 

        Speak of the goddamn devil.

        The steps weren’t patient or slowed either--it was clear Kuroo was done being away from you for so long. 

        Now or never. 

        If you got caught, you weren’t quite sure you could handle the consequences, so you stopped considering them altogether and moved. 

        You shoved the sofa past the carpet and across the wood floor, catching onto the occasional rock and leaving a scratch in its wake--nothing an all-too adoring werecat would notice. 

        You barely avoided crashing into the doors themselves and hurried to clamber onto the sofa. 

        Move, YN, move move move.

        Barely keeping your balance, you reached for the head of the lion, only to hold back a cry when your fingers barely brushed it’s jaw.

        Fuck, YN he’s getting closer. Think!

        Kuroo’s footsteps were loud, but not as loud as your heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

        Shit, shit, shit!

        You couldn’t reach any better from the arm of the chair, instead just skimming its pointed ear. A sob built in your throat in frustration.

        Please!

        Your only chance was standing on the head of the chair, but according to every physics law ever, that would be fucking impossible. 

        The steps were just outside the door now.

        With one more nervous glance, you pushed all of your weight to lean on the wall just beside the door, stepping one trembling leg up onto the top of the chair’s back.

        The doorknob twisted. 

        NO!

        The door cracked open just as you pushed all your strength onto your lifted leg, propelling yourself up and-

        You missed.

        The door cracked open. 

        “Kuroo!”

        And it stopped there. Another pair of footsteps made their way over to the door and you tensed when the door shifted open just a tad.

        Then it shut completely. 

        The knob twisted back into place and two pairs of footsteps receded just a couple yards away. 

        Kenma’s voice pipes up and Kuroo’s voice whispers back but you don’t spare another second trying to decipher the conversation. 

        Swiftly, you step back up onto the back of the chair and propel yourself up one more time, stretching every ligament in your arm so taut you swear you felt something tear but you don’t mind. 

        The key is cold and made of brass, but it sits between your two fingers all the same. 

        Eyes bulging in effort to hold back a cheer, you’re quick to climb back down and push the chair all the way back to the reading corner just when the conversation in the hall ends. 

        Collapsing into the sofa, you grab a random book off the shelf and tear it open, smoothly inspecting a random page just as the door opens. 

        “YN?” Kuroo steps in and glances around, lips curling into a smile when he spots you in the corner. “Ahh, the mini library. I figured you would like that.”

        “Yep,” you nodded, allowing yourself just the smallest smile of victory so you can wear it as a disguise. “I’ve got myself acquainted here with…” you squint at the page, before pursing your lips and turning the book rightside up, “Gandalf and Bilbo.” 

        “Upside down?”

        “It’s a talent I’m working on. I’ll show you later.”

        Kuroo chuckles before closing the door behind him, dropping an armful of clothes on the bed. 

        “So I wasn’t sure if you wanted the blue sweatshirt or the black one so I brought both. And that same philosophy applied to just about all the other clothes I dug through so,” he gestured to the pile, “go nuts.”

        Setting the book back on the shelf, you rose and stood to observe the clothes. Sadly, the bed was too large for you to stand directly across from Kuroo to dig through them, so you accepted your fate and sidled up beside him while he watched your every move.

        “...YN?” His tone was curious and careful as he narrowed his eyes at you.

        You kept your eyes on the clothes and urged your voice to keep steady. “What’s up?”

        “Why are you so flushed?” His hand runs down your cheek, gathering droplets of sweat that had formed from your stress earlier. “I don’t suppose you worked out or something while I was gone.”

        Though his proposition would have been a great excuse, you weren’t exactly the person to spend your spare time working out for the hell of it. Anybody knew that.

        “Pfft, no,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, “reading upside down is just really hard. You’re lucky you came in when you did or I might have just passed out altogether.”

        Kuroo studied you for a moment longer, leaning just a bit closer before humming. “All right. Then I’ll just say you’re welcome.”

        “Thank you.” Rummaging through the collection of pants and sweatshirts once more, you struggled to think of an excuse to get the hell out of here. 

        Kuroo’s hand moved to rest on the small of your back and suddenly all precaution flew out the window. 

        “K-Kuroo.”

        “Hmm?” The hand never retreats, and instead Kuroo turns toward you expectantly.

        “I… uh… don’t think I’m ready to sleep in the same bed with you yet.”

        Wonderful topic change, YN.

        “And why’s that?”

        “It’s not anything against you!” You scramble to find the words, turning toward him and wetting your lips. “I just… I think it’s too soon. For me, at least. I mean, I know it’s not too soon for you! In fact, I’m sure you think it’s overdue or something, but I’m just not that… comfortable yet…” you decide to trail off with your rambling and instead assess the hole you’ve just dug yourself in in silence. 

        Kuroo does the same, pressing his lips together and meeting your gaze head on. You knew he was searching for something, and you almost let out a sigh of relief when he finally nodded. “Don’t worry. I understand.” And then you notice his hand is still on your waist, but only because he’s placed the other one on your other hip. Then, ever so carefully, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “One day, kitten.”

        Suddenly feeling dirty, you nod and pull away completely. “Of course.”

        Now how do I get out of here?

        Kuroo lets his hands fall back to his sides and his eyes drag down to the clothes still sitting in a clump on the bed.

        Bingo.

        “Oh, damn,” you hiss, picking through the clothes. “These ones are really uncomfortable. You didn’t get my favorites.” What you lack in acting skills you hope you make up for with swiftness. “Just wait here, I’ll go get them from my room.”

        Kuroo’s gaze shifts ten times more serious in an instant. Like a snake, his hand snaps out from his side and snags onto your wrist, effectively holding you in place just as you turn to leave. 

        Swallowing the fear in your chest, you spin back to Kuroo like he gestures. Slim fingers grab onto your chin and tilt your head to face his, forcing all your attention onto him.

        “You’re not going to do anything stupid, right kitten?”

        You kept a steady gaze and refrained from nervous shifting of any kind. You were too close to give it all up now. “Of course not. I just wanted more comfortable clothes.”

        With a pause, Kuroo narrows his eyes, glancing your form up and down before nodding. The bruising grip on your chin is released and you bite the inside of your cheek to fend off a whimper. 

        That son of a bitch was going to leave a mark.

        “Don’t keep me waiting long, YN.”

        Not bothering to stick around longer than necessary, you exited the room without another look at Kuroo and shut the door with a whoosh. The roaring blood pumping in your ears blocked out any other sound as you dashed down the halls, flying past tables of antique knick knacks and curtainless windows. 

        Soon, your mood shifted from a state of uncertainty to absolute pride. You did it. You got the key, and now you would get everyone out safely. Your one-man party would have to wait until you actually found out how to get out of here, though. 

        Unlike before, you weren’t exactly lost. The occasional painting was actually familiar and you thanked your past self for doing a little sight-seeing while being stranded in the halls. 

        When you spotted the very first painting you remembered appraising--a lone tree surrounded by thundering clouds--you almost yelped with glee. 

        I’m almost there, guys. Don’t you worry. 

        By now, there was a faint tint of sky blue just reaching the horizon outside the window. The moon and stars were soon to be long gone, and you and the boys would have the bright sun to guide you away from this hellhole. 

        At last, you found the corridor you’d entered twice before. Bare as always, it was a sharp contrast from the rest of the house in terms of its flooring. Here, there was very little money spared; unlike the polished marble surface of the rest of the halls, this one was a simple concrete, leading to scuffs of your tennis shoes rather than the previous squeaks. 

        Nonetheless, you sprinted to the end all the same, making it entirely through the house undetected. You counted yourself lucky that Kuroo actually believed you remembered where your old room was. At this point, you could barely tell left from right without performing the classic “L” trick with your hands. 

        Biting back a smile, you struggled to remind yourself that you weren’t exactly free and clear just yet; there was still the issue of finding the main exit--or any sort of exit--now. While Kuroo was miles away in his room all the way across the house, that didn’t mean the other werecats infesting the place weren’t on the lookout for you. 

        Especially once Kuroo realized you weren’t coming back. 

        You made quick work of the creaky stairs, skipping three at a time before taking one final leap and crashing through the wooden door. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you hoped the slam of the door wasn’t as loud to the rest of the house as it was to you.

        Yet, such fears soon didn’t matter. Bokuto and Akaashi’s heads both lift at the sound of your entrance before both men jump to their feet.

        “Darling, you made it!”

        “YN, are you okay?”

        While their voices clashed, you waited patiently until you had their full attention before brandishing the key with a wide smile. 

        Bokuto cheers as quietly as he could manage while Akaashi’s brows rose. 

        “How did you find it?”

        “Uh,” Ah crap. “I’ll… tell you later.”

        Not wasting any more time, you scamper over and unlock each cell, tensing up when you see Bokuto prepare for a classic tackle hug. Except it never comes.

        Instead, while Akaashi fiddles with his shackles, Bokuto lets his arms fall to his side and he backs away from you, suddenly appearing forlorn. The memory of your last meeting down here comes back and hits you like a freight train.

        “Bo, if this is about what I said-”

        “It’s not!” He glances away with a crease in his brow, busying himself with snapping Akaashi’s cuffs in two like they were made of nothing. “It’s just…”

        “What?”

        Neither man dares to meet your gaze, but Akaashi’s reason seems more for being on the lookout while Bokuto’s is out of shame. 

        “You didn’t see the fear in your eyes when I bit you.”

        “Bo…”

        “No, YN, you looked horrified. It was like you said. I’m a mon-”

        Slamming a hand over his mouth, you throw a dirty glare his way. “Don’t ever call yourself that. You’re not a monster, Bokuto. Would a monster bake-er… try to bake my favorite breakfast every day? Would he want to watch magic shows with me or hug me when it’s cold outside?”

        He mumbles behind your hand with downcast eyes and you shake your head. “No, Bokuto. You’re wrong. You’re not a monster, or anything of the sort, to me. I don’t care what you say.”

        With that, you release his mouth and yank him into a hug, blindly reaching for Akaashi to do the same. When you make contact with the wizard’s T-shirt, you pull him into your arms as well, sighing in relief at the feeling it gives. 

        This was right. This was warm and safe and so, so right. Fuzzy little feelings bumbled around in your stomach as you sank deeper into their arms, dropping your chin on both men’s shoulders. There was no guilt or betrayal that came with this hug because these men, no matter how little you knew them, felt like home. 

        For the past few weeks, you’d felt so lost and alone, and feeling them around you now was heartwarming. The world seemed to stop turning and whatever stressful situation you had been focused on before seemed to ebb away in their hold. This was what pure security, pure devotion, and pure love felt like. Two pairs of arms wrapped around your waist, ready to help you face anything from this point on. You weren’t stuck alone anymore. You weren’t unhappy anymore. You were just lost in the embrace of an attachment that had formed over centuries, and would continue in just that fashion. 

        “I’m glad you guys are okay.” The words, though sounding simple, had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for days now. And you meant every one of them. “It sucked being away from you all that time.”

        A soft smile formed on Akaashi’s face as he pulled away just an inch to see your face. Carefully, he unwound an arm from your waist and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “And we feel the same, my love.”

        Bokuto’s arms squeeze you tighter just for a moment before releasing altogether, allowing his golden gaze to reach yours. A grin larger than life itself almost blinded you, fangs twinkling in the light of the sunrise. “We missed you so much, darling. Being away from you is torture.”

        Involuntarily, your lower lip began to tremble as you glanced at both of them, hating how your heart skipped a beat at each sight. Maybe it was fast, and it certainly wasn’t expected, but you did love them. And there was so much more time for you to get to know them better, but now…

        “Oh shit, we have to get out of here!” Shaking yourself out of your daze, you pulled away completely, shivering at the cold that nipped your skin in seconds. 

        Both men snapped themselves out of the haze as well, one snagging your wrist while the other led the way up the stairs. Soon enough, each man had a hold on either of your biceps, both protecting your sides and leading you through the halls. 

        Initially, you wanted to announce that you might have a better idea of how to navigate Kuroo’s mansion, but you soon swallowed your words when you noticed Akaashi’s calculating gaze as he directed all three of you around. “This way,” he mumbled, jogging at a pace just slow enough that you weren’t completely left in the dust. 

        The sun was reaching higher in the sky, you noticed, just half of it reaching over the horizon and lighting the sky a dusty orange. The maze of halls and stairs was much more manageable now that you could actually see them with natural lighting. 

        At last, the three of you reached a foyer. One glass staircase led directly down to the middle of a large entryway, and just a few yards from where the last step met marble stood a pair of wooden double doors. The slaps of your footsteps sounded like thunder compared to the elegant pads of both Bokuto and Akaashi’s feet, but being so close meant no time for precaution.

        “Oh YN, surely you didn’t think I was that gullible.”

        So close, and yet so far. Just as your hand had touched the curved door handles, Kuroo’s voice stopped you in your tracks and chilled you to the bone. 

        Caught, trapped, cornered--whatever you wanted to call it. To put it simply, you were screwed. Spinning on your heels, you took in the sheer number of werecats. With no time to count, you estimated there were about ten transformed cats in all, each ready to pounce. Kuroo stood in his human form with folded arms, shaking his head in disappointment. 

        Oh yeah. We’re fucked.

        Bones crackle just to your left and where a silent Bokuto used to be, a hissing creature now stands at the ready. Still human-shaped, each muscle in the vampire’s body now appears doubled in size as viscous claws extend from each finger. Elongated fangs sharper than needles pierce through his gums and a glowing red takes over the deep auburn of his eyes. 

        On your right, Akaashi’s hands, now completely free of cuffs, radiate a maroon smoke, both pointed toward the crouching enemies. A line forms between his brow as spells wait to be cast on his lips. 

        While the odds weren’t looking good before, both transformations your boys had undergone make you feel just a little bit better about the results of this battle. 

        Akaashi reaches out a smoldering hand to push you behind them, closer to the door. “You’ll be okay, my love.” He glances back at you with a small smile. “I never lie to you, remember?”

        You nod and step back farther, hoping that promise wouldn’t be his last. Only one thing was for sure, and that was that nobody was coming out of this unscathed.

        Across the room, Kuroo’s teeth bare at the action and the black ears that had formed on his head flatten. “Don’t touch her.”

        And with that, he pounces. 

        The room that had been so tense and quiet just seconds earlier explodes into pandemonium. Hisses, catlike and vampire-like both travel around the room as you quiver against the door, fighting back the urge to flee. 

        A foreign language slips off Akaashi’s tongue in a rage as red mist envelopes the room, paralyzing three cats right in their place. Two others pounce on him and just like that, they are slammed into the wall with a swift wave of his hand.

        Bokuto, on the other hand, is drowning underneath a pile of cats. Flexed claws tear into every inch of skin, but he gives just as much as he gets. One cat yowls and flees after receiving a dagger-like fingernail in the eye while another drops to the floor with a kick against its head. 

        Part of you wanted to help in some way while the other urged you to flee from the house completely. As an unofficial compromise, you stood glued to your spot, unsure if you could move even if you wanted to. 

        Cougar-sized cats go flying with another flash of red from Akaashi’s hands, one crashing right into the staircase and you cringe at the crack that echoes with it. Blood spatters to the floor and soaks into your pant legs as Bokuto sinks his teeth into the throat of a pure white cat, tearing away and spitting out a solid chunk of flesh. 

        All the sights and sounds are macabre, but like a car crash, you just couldn’t look away, completely enraptured in horror. Even the scent of blood flooded your nostrils at this point, forcing you to gag and turn away just when a cat is kicked into the wall directly by the doors. 

        It howls in pain, but the proximity between you and the slumped, bleeding form goes completely unnoticed until you feel a pinch in your side. 

        No. Not a pinch. The cat’s jaw has unhinged and enveloped your left hip completely, digging in hard enough to meet bone. Tears spring to your eyes and your jaw drops in a silent scream. Shock does nothing to fend off the pain as it forces you to your knees. 

        The cat scampers away just when you find the strength to release a small moan. Hands grab at your side, and you don’t realize they’re your own until you cry out at the sheer amount of red drenching your hands. 

        Blood is everywhere, soaking into your shoes and socks. Pooling onto the floor around you. And yet, when you reach to cover the wound, you can no longer feel the large punctures it had left. 

        “YN!” Twenty feet away, Akaashi throws a hand out toward you while another helps Bokuto to his feet. The door behind you flies open and you drag yourself to your feet, hanging onto the doorway for support as you step outside. 

        Fresh air never smelled more sweet, and when you reach down to feel your wound once more, you almost choke in disbelief to feel damp yet completely unruptured skin. 

        What the hell? WHAT THE HELL?

        Two hands grab your waist and throw you over a broad shoulder, leaving your head and arms to sag against what appears to be Bokuto’s lacerated backside. 

        “You’re gonna be okay, YN, we’re getting out of here!” Bokuto shouts over the wind rushing in your ears. The speed the forest floor passes by your eyes is inhuman as the vampire weaves in and out of trees, Akaashi keeping in perfect stride just to the side of you both. 

        An overflow of blood rushes straight down into your head, forcing you to lift your skull just a little to fend off the dizziness. In the distance, Kuroo’s mansion of black and red brick grows blurry, and yet does nothing to obscure the sight in the doorway. 

        Two glowing green eyes peering from within the darkness. 

        Neither Akaashi nor Bokuto has noticed, but the sight of it has caused you to tense up and go still in the latter’s hold. 

        “Don’t worry, my love,” Akaashi grunts out as both men begin to slow to a stop. Bokuto shifts his hold on you, now gripping the backs of your knees and your shoulders. A hand, Akaashi’s, glows a gentle pink before he brushes through the hair on the top of your head. “We’re going home.”

        A wave of exhaustion washes over you, forcing your eyes to droop closed. 

        “You can rest now. We’ll keep you safe.”

Previous  Masterlist  Next

Ten to None (Gojo x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Soulmates’ markings add up to ten so soulmates know just how much of a danger their soulmate is to them. You have a ten on your wrist, so you know your soulmate must have a zero. There’s just one problem: no one in history has ever been worthy of a danger rating of ten, so who the hell is the supposedly “invincible god” were you fated to? 

A/N: yikes that summary. Anyways, nobody got a soulmate au gojo out there that tickles my fancy, so here I am writing my own. Hope y’all like it! (Side note: this took me fucking A G E S)

Word count: 10406

        “A ten. Dear God.”

        “Oh-Oh my God, what do we do?”

        “Nobody’s ever had… Jesus.”

        A nurse had fainted when she saw the ten on the inside of your soft, newborn right wrist. The font was curling and slanted, almost as if it had been written nonchalantly with a few flicks of the wrist. Two black digits marred the plump flesh, unmissable. 

        Unmissable no matter how much your parents averted their gaze each time they saw it. 

        It wasn’t until kindergarten when your local bully ripped off the bandaid your parents pleaded with you to keep secure over your right wrist that you realized just how odd your number was. A circle of curious, mumbling five-year-olds formed around you, each one holding out their own wrists to compare. 

        Threes, twos, a couple fives and perhaps even a seven appeared in your vision. None of their wrists had been abraded by a freshly torn-off bandaid. 

        “Hold on, doesn’t it go one, two,... three, um…”

        “No, no, it’s one, two, four-”

        “Hey, what’s going on over here?” 

        Your swarming flock had gathered the attention of a recess aid. Her neon yellow fanny pack almost blinded you as she pushed through the crowd and towered over your cowering form. 

        “They’re m-making fun of me,” you whimpered, snot dribbling down onto your upper lip

        “Why’s her number so big?” Another child cut in, pointing an accusatory finger at your forearm. 

        The aid never responded to the other child’s question, nor did she defend you from them. Instead, when her gaze locked on the number on the inside of your wrist, she gasped. 

        Profanities your whole class had never heard were exposed to them that day, which they promptly repeated at any given chance out of the watchful gazes of adults. The recess aid had whispered them under her breath, eyes wide behind the sunglasses drooping on her nose. When she grabbed at your arm, she wrenched you up and glanced at your wrist once more, blinking a couple times as if to make sure it wasn’t the blinding sun in her eyes. 

        “Jesus Christ.”

        “Hey, I know him!”

        Then she hauled you off to the principal’s office, who promptly contacted your parents and told them of the incident.

        You were homeschooled from then on, and while other kids participated in afterschool clubs like soccer, basketball, and volleyball, you took classes in self-defense. When other kids were learning how to pass and set, you were learning seven ways to take down a man if he had you in a chokehold. 

        Weak points of the human body that, if struck quickly and at the right angle, would leave it paralyzed. The most efficient techniques for attacking opponents bigger than you. How to debilitate an attacker from behind; from the front; from either side. This was the foreign language you learned while others your age studied Spanish, French, even Japanese. 

        You couldn’t remember the last time you’d encountered a boy your age without the intent to use him as a sparring partner. You doubt you even knew how to carry a conversation with one--yet another everyday part of life you’d never been taught. 

        When you’d hit puberty, it seemingly shook your parents to the core. It was like they forgot they were raising a daughter and not a warrior--at the sight of blood, you could see they fought their inner instincts to ask how you would defend yourself against an attack like such at a later date. 

        It was one of the many battles they’d never thought to prepare you for--the many battles of everyday life. 

        “What is it?”

        “It’s called a pad, dear.”

        “Where do I put it?”

        “In your underwear, dear.”

        “Why am I bleeding?”

        “I-er, didn’t you read that book we gave you, dear?”

        You gave that book a dismissive glance the night before, skimming past chapters labeled “Periods,” “Hair Everywhere,” and “Boys, Boys, Boys” before tossing it aside and picking up Sun Tzu’s Art of War. 

        “Yes, I did.”

        “Good, dear. Then you should know why.”

        Your parents had never intended to be as cold and distant as they were; it was just a side effect of raising a child they had always viewed as destined for death. 

        After all, surely that’s what the ten on the inside of your wrist meant, right? 

        10.

        Ten. 

        十.

        Diez.

        Dix.

        X.

        You knew it in every language. It was easy, since people from all around the world were curious about you. Your parents received emails from scholars and historians on a daily basis, either with new inquiries or old news. Everyone always had the same thing to say: this has never happened before. 

        People have come close, of course. The strong paired with the weak had soulmate numbers paired eights-to-twos or sevens-to-threes. Humans destined to become curses even found themselves with soulmates whose wrists contained nines, while theirs held ones. 

        One figure you’d grown particularly interested in was the King of Curses, Ryoumen Sukuna. The most powerful curse to have ever lived, and even he only had a one on his wrist when he was a human. In every drawing or depiction you’d ever seen, at least one of his four arms had the single digit in black ink on his wrist, if not all of them. 

        So if even he was not worthy of a ten, what kind of unknown monster were you destined to be with?

                                ~~~

        Jujutsu sorcery. The next--and most difficult--form of combat you planned to master. It interested you mainly because it offered a wide variety of mediums with which to focus your power. Though you’d mostly trained with only your body your whole life, occasionally you’d dabbled in using weaponry. 

        Cursed energy, it seemed, was something that you had a large amount of. Born from negative human emotions, the more cursed energy a human harbored, the more damage they could inflict upon others. 

        This was the key to protecting yourself from the unpredictable dangers of your soulmate. Learning and mastering it seemed so easy--get angry, project that anger onto opponents, win the fight. The only problem was that many of your prior training encouraged restraint and objectivity. On the surface, your moods could be flicked on and off like a switch, but deep down you struggled to truly revel in any emotion.

        You practiced in the dim, dark dojo you often borrowed from a local karate class, slashing through mid-air with a bo staff. Sweat dripped down your temple as you envisioned some form in front of you. A shadowy monster of sorts, eyes glowing in its own darkness, dodging each and every one of your swipes. 

        It laughed at your attempts, its translucent body of black smoke shifting and gliding around the room. This was the enemy you always imagined, teasing and taunting you as though you never had a chance to defeat it. Whenever you attempted a vanquishing blow through its heart, whether by fist, bo staff, or wooden sword, it would encircle your blow, forming around it in an oval. 

        A zero. 

        It only took one fight, you battling your shadow creature with a cursed-energy charged bow and arrow, to realize that the monster you’d been picturing was your soulmate. Blue streaks of energy darted around the shaft of every arrow you fired, zipping around faster and faster the more you missed. 

        “C’mon,” you hissed under your breath, swiping a hand through your hair and tugging out a few strands in the process, getting them caught on the finger tab of your leather glove. Silence choked the atmosphere of the dojo, the moon long being the only lighting of the room. A bead of sweat dripped down into your eye, blurring your vision as you nocked another arrow. 

        Another chuckle filled the room, incoherent yet achingly familiar. You stayed low, one knee against the ground while you leant forward on your other, bare foot. But as you searched for your opponent, the dojo seemed to grow. 

        The sparring pads beneath you stiffened, and fresh blades of grass began sprouting up and licking at your bare feet. The white walls and glassy mirrors blurred, giving way to miles and miles of flat, green plain. A gray sky took the place of the low-hanging ceilings, clouds rumbling in the air but never giving off anything more than a light mist that flattened the strays on your scalp. 

        “What the hell…” you trailed off, taking in the new landscape before you. A concentric circle of stark white roses surrounded the large plain you sat in the middle of, and far beyond that was a wall of trees. Fresh air filled your lungs instead of the dank staleness you had been accustomed to during any fight. Now, with so much free space around, you felt so much more relaxed, no longer afraid of damaging the dojo while practicing your cursed energy techniques. 

        “But where the hell am I?” you wondered aloud. It wasn’t like you had teleported anywhere. If anything, it wasn’t you who had changed at all--it was the world around you that had begun to take a new form. You let the leg you kneeled against collapse, slumping to the ground in a figure four. The bow in your hand lay long forgotten beside you.

        It was a new… domain. You knew that word. But from where?

        As you racked your brain, the grass beside you melted away, an object pushing its way to the surface of the soil. A book sat face up, its spine familiarly crinkled from your recent weeks of flipping through it. 

        Cursed Techniques for Dummies.

        Though droplets of rain fell against the paperback book, they never wrinkled the pages. Instead, they slid right off as though the pages were laminated, sinking back into the soft soil underneath you. 

        Sticky notes stood out at the top of the book, small labels written on them in your own handwriting for each chapter. A blue slip with the word “domain” caught your eye, and you snatched up the book, flitting past chapter after chapter of techniques. 

        “‘A confined environment created using large amounts of cursed energy. Within personal domains, the creators are granted greater power at the cost of using an exhausting amount of energy. The longer a creator maintains his or her domain, the more fatigued he or she may become.’” You stopped the pad of your finger at the edge of the sentence, glancing up and around at the space before you. It seemed by the sheer size of your “domain,” your amount of cursed energy was greater than what you expected. 

        Your only concern was how to get out. No part of you felt weary like the book had warned; there was no pressing headache or tiring muscles. In fact, you felt more energetic like you had in ages. Perhaps it was the boost in your powers that your own domain had promised, or perhaps it was something else entirely.

        “All right, all right,” you glanced around, critiquing the area, “definitely seems like my kinda place.” Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you reached low for your bow, patting your back and feeling for your quiver. After you found it, you tugged an arrow out and nocked it, pulling back the string with a deep breath in and searching for your target. 

        “Come on out, buddy. May as well play while the going is good, eh?”

        But your shadow never appeared. The familiar black mist you always seemed to summon while practicing alone never manifested before your eyes no matter how many times you spun yourself dizzy. 

        It was gone. In your domain, it was gone. 

        The thought seemed to leave your chest a little lighter, and the blue streaks of lightning dancing around the shaft of your arrow sizzled and melted away. You let your arms fall to your sides, rolling your shoulders back and finally letting out your breath. 

        Then your eyes returned to the book still lying on the ground, open as a small breeze ruffled the pages. “Cursed energy, huh?” you hummed thoughtfully, setting the bow back on the ground while reaching for the book. Rustles and crackles sounded behind you, and when you fell back with the book in your hands, you collapsed into a cushioned sofa, somewhat out of place among the grassy plain.

        “What else ya got for me?”

                                ~~~

        “Domain expansion!”

        The dank alley’s downpour faded away into a fine spray of droplets, and the sky lightened from pitch black to slate gray. Crumbling asphalt and busted blue Dumpsters blurred away, replaced by a field of green grass and blossoming white roses. In the distance, the trees shivered with the force of the curse’s blows.

        But they never made it any farther than that. You’d spent five years mastering that technique after accidentally slipping into your domain on your eighteenth birthday. An insurmountable wall of trees barred any enemy from entering your domain, allowing you time and distance to steady yourself and recover during a fight. 

        In all of your ventures through books on cursed energy techniques, you’d never once come across anything like it. Domains were made to be advantageous fighting grounds, not havens for rest and recovery. But due to your lack of official training in any form of jujutsu sorcery, you had to use mostly unconventional tactics in many of your battles against curses throughout the last few years. And, you had to admit it worked quite well. 

        Another strong blow shivered your barrier of trees, their branches swaying from the force, but it only served to worsen your growing headache more than anything else. You crumbled onto your hands and knees, completely missing the leather sofa you kept summoned for quick naps or reading times, and curled up into a ball on your side, cradling your ribs beneath your palms.

        This cursed spirit was unlike any other you’d ever faced. It crawled on all four of its twisted arms with jagged bones tearing out of the leathery skin of its back, forming points like spades. At least three times your size, the monstrosity had three eyes forming an upside down triangle and a mouth layered with three rows of shark-like teeth. The drool spilling from its mouth was frothy and green, and when it had hit the asphalt of the dead-end alley in which you’d found it, it bubbled against the ground and melted the tar. 

        Inside of its wrist lay a “1.”

        “What the fuck,” you wheezed, squeezing your eyelids closed hard enough to see stars. “What the fuck kinda steroids is that thing on?”

        There was a constant ache in your side from when it had first slammed you into the concrete, no doubt leaving a rib cracked and broken. You just hoped there was no internal bleeding. 

        “Holy shit.” You scrambled up onto your hands and knees, coughing and sputtering on a sudden flood of metallic liquid climbing up your throat, painting the patch of grass crimson. Subconsciously, you acknowledged the black and blue knuckles on your dominant hand, no doubt caused by trying to throw the first punch after the cursed spirit had dodged your arrow. 

        10.

        Son of a bitch. 

        “Fuck!” You slammed a bare palm against the grass, teeth gritted and gaze narrowed. “Who are you?!”

        Like usual, you expected no response. 

        Except something had changed. 

        That damned laugh you had always heard but could never make out echoed in the distance, perking your ears. The same one that had haunted your dreams since you first realized what your soulmark meant. The same one you envisioned battling each time you trained.

        The laugh that promised defeat.

        With haste, you fumbled onto your feet, ignoring an oncoming wave of nausea that resulted, and eyed the wall of trees encapsulating your domain.

        Your body wasn’t ready to leave its refuge, bones and muscles aching, crying out with every movement. When you stepped forward, your knees wobbled. When you released your domain, a splitting headache blinded you for half a second. 

        Panic struck when you patted down your body only to remember the curse had crushed your bow to splinters, sparing only the lone arrow in your quiver on your back for self-defense. 

        Apparently, though, you didn’t need it. The cursed spirit, still snarling and chomping its slobbering jaw at you, had each of its palms stuck to the large puddle of melted tar that had formed beneath it in your absence. When more of its own saliva dripped from its mouth, it slid down the dip in the alley the puddle had formed and made contact with the hands of the spirit, who screeched in pain. Welts rose from where the saliva made contact, and it dawned on you that the curse wasn’t immune to its own acid. 

        Without a second thought, you reached back for the arrow, not bothering a glance at the serrated tip before slicing it through the soft tissue of the monster’s throat. Black blood coated your hand by the time you tugged the arrow from its flesh, hot and sticky against your skin but otherwise harmless. 

        The cursed spirit crumpled to the ground with a silent cry, more and more dark liquid pooling around it and spilling into the cracks of the asphalt. The first time you had encountered and gutted a spirit, you wanted to hurl at even the sight of such a deformed monster.

        Now, you gave in to that urge, especially when a small, long object slithered out of its slashed neck, riding a fresh wave of blood that carried it all the way to your feet and thumping against your combat boot.

        “Dear God.” You wiped the back of your unbloodied hand against your mouth, grimacing. “What in the Goddamn fuck- is that a finger?!” You stepped away, reeling back and kicking the monster in the stomach one last time. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

        The slumped form jolted from the force of the kick, but otherwise remained still. You studied it long and hard one last time before turning away. “Yeah, you know what? Never mind. Dumb question.” 

        Your gaze found the finger once more, eyeing the long, sharp nail and the bone sticking out of its amputated end. It looked nothing like an average human’s finger, the skin far too wrinkled and ragged. But then what was it? And why would the cursed spirit eat it?

        Of course, there was always the chance the curse had an affinity for such snacks. 

        But you had also read that some objects interwoven with enough cursed energy could grant anyone immense power when used or consumed. 

        You guessed, with it being a finger and all, the cursed spirit had chosen the latter route. 

        “Ugh, am I really gonna do this?” You squatted next to the finger, lip curled as you reached out your hand.

        In one quick breath, you snagged the finger, hucked it back into your empty quiver, wiped your hand on your pants with a “gross, gross, gross,” and sprinted back to your apartment to take a two-hour long decontaminating shower to rid yourself of the days events and more. 

                                ~~~

        The plane, you’d decided after being thirteen minutes into a fourteen-hour long flight, was too stuffy. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much. When the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High had called and offered you a teaching job for future jujutsu sorcerers, he had been a little hesitant to shell out the money for a twenty-thousand dollar first-class flight for someone he had yet to interview. 

        The call had been… interesting, to say the least. 

        “Is this YN YLN?” a man with a monotonous voice had asked with a hint of a Japanese accent.

        “This is she. Who’s asking?”

        “My name is Masamichi Yaga, and I’m calling on behalf of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. Recently, I’ve gotten word that you’ve come across a cursed object we’ve been searching for.”

        “You mean the finger?” Ah shit, maybe you were supposed to keep quiet about that.

        “Yes… the finger. We were impressed to hear you defeated a cursed spirit in possession of the object all on your own, as well.”

        “Shi-uh, I mean, thanks.”

        “One of our teachers witnessed the fight and reported back to us about your natural skill in jujutsu sorcery despite any professional training. If you’re open to it, we’d like to interview you for a potential job at our school, if only to introduce our students to your technique. How does that sound?”

        Expensive as hell is what it had sounded like. But also… “Hold on, someone saw that fight?” The laugh…

        “Yes, one of our best. And if the ten on your wrist is any indication, we think you’ll want to come meet him.”

        You had tensed up on the sofa, pulling the phone away with wide eyes and pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t actually asleep. While holding your phone, your bare wrist faced up, the bold, black ten almost grinning at you.

        The Ten. He had watched you in that fight. 

        The fucking laugh. 

        “Ms. YLN?”

        “Sorry,” you hurriedly pressed your phone back to your ear, heart rattling around beneath your ribcage. “Sorry, what did you say?”

        “Would you like to come over for an interview? All expenses paid.”

        A potential job served up on a golden platter. It was almost too good to be true. Almost. Your soulmate obviously had some sway at this school, and the thought made you nervous. His number obviously made him a physical threat, but if he also had a whole school for jujutsu sorcery under his thumb…

        Obviously, you were soulmates with a highly intelligent, professional individual. Just your luck. 

        But who were you to reject the benefits from such a man? You’d barely been scraping by with the money you’d gathered while eradicating curses for the last few years. The evident favoritism, no matter how much it bothered you, was, in the end, giving you a once-in-a-lifetime chance at a career.

        “How could I say no?”

         And that’s how you found yourself on a fourteen-hour flight to Tokyo, sitting stiffly in the blue-leather chair next to and surrounded by several people with personal space and snoring issues. 

        The mark on your wrist burned, and out of nervous habit you ran the tip of your finger over the number repeatedly. Your head pounded along with your growing anxiety, begging for release, and with one more sip of the water the flight attendant had offered you, you sank into your domain, allowing the cramped cabin full of people to fade away into a flourishing plain of lime green grass and pale pink roses. 

                                ~~~

        Tokyo--you’d discovered after seven hours of wandering--was gorgeous. After getting off your flight, you’d quickly realized you’d jumped the gun, having completely glossed over the necessary prerequisites for traveling to a foreign country. 

        To be fair, it wasn’t completely your fault. The Duolingo app wasn’t doing you any favors, what with struggling to download and all. 

        And so stumbling on and off several subway trips, wedging yourself between and through hundreds of random strangers, and battling with your phone for cell reception and data, you’d slowly and carefully traversed over every inch of Tokyo except for Tokyo Jujutsu High. 

        Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but your feet were certainly sticking to those claims. Despite reveling in and among the glowing billboards, advanced architecture, and homemade delicacies that seemed to line every main street, your body--and wallet--could only handle so much indulgence. After walking around what you were almost positive was the same park for the third time, you decidedly gave in to the blisters forming on your heels and the cramps biting at the bottoms of your feet, collapsing against a wooden bench and moaning in relief. 

        Your first debacle with Google Maps ensued prior to you finally escaping the Tokyo Airport, a fiasco in its own right. It was then that you remembered jujutsu sorcery and even sorcery in general was considered fictitious nonsense, and that googling a school that centered around said nonsense was futile. 

        When you checked your phone, you noticed that some deity had finally taken pity on your soul. A message from the same man that had contacted you, sent three hours ago with a link labeled “Directions to Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.”

        You’d never been so frustrated yet relieved at the same time. Three hours ago? A demon that had formed deep in your belly from your lack of sleep within the last two days combined with the rumbling in your stomach and the aching in the entirety of your body swelled and grew ten times the size, blurring every rational thought in your mind. 

        “FUCK!” You slammed a curled fist into the bench, reeling back in shock when the wood beneath you split in two from the force. Pain radiated from your knuckles, one of them split and bleeding. Just the sight of it pulled you back to all those days of sparring with other people--other boys--and accidentally playing too rough. 

        It was a habit--all your life you’d been pitied for your perceived lack of natural strength. All of the historians and soulmark recorders who’d ever called your parents to tell them about your never-before seen phenomenon had ended every conversation with a “Maybe she should take some self-defense classes. Just in case, you know?”

        You had black belts in seven kinds of martial arts, but instead of being labeled a prodigy, everyone who ever saw the 10 etched in deep black ink inside your wrist viewed you as a poor, unfortunate soul. Every match you’d ever had ended with a bow followed by a “Does your wrist really say ‘ten’? That’s insane!” A gold medal would be placed around your neck or a trophy in your hands, but a simple glance at your wrist and everything you’d ever worked for was stolen from you. 

        “Oh, that’s why.” You knew that’s what they thought. And you hated that it was partly right.

        However, the opportunity to work in a new country with a school full of people who didn’t know of your infamous soulmark (or at least you hoped they didn’t) felt like a breath of cool air for the first time in your life. These people didn’t know you. All they knew was that you were coming to their school with a cursed object and large amounts of potential. 

        That’s why you liked jujutsu sorcery over any other fighting technique you’d done; it prioritized mastering your own fighting style. So, how could someone ever beat you in a fighting style they’d never even seen before?

        They couldn’t. And you loved that. 

        What you didn’t love, though, was the mile-long walk up an extensive trail of white bricks leading you through what should have been the pearly gates of Tokyo Jujutsu High. The second you reached the opening to the school, you felt like army-crawling the rest of the way to the main building where your interview was to take place. 

        You couldn’t though, wanting to save face in front of the…student? Teacher? Whatever he was, he was walking toward you. White hair stuck up from the top of his head, matching oddly with his long, slender body not completely unlike a paint brush. While you battled to catch your breath near the entrance, he approached from about forty feet away. From there, you gauged he was about a head and a half taller than you, his hair only helping aggrandize his height. 

        There was a kind of dignity in the way he walked, confidence oozing off him and curling a corner of his lips. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he was dressed in a fitted, all-black uniform you’d immediately assumed was the mandatory attire for students at the school. He must have felt your wandering eyes because his smirked lips cracked open a sliver, revealing blinding white teeth and a tongue bitten between them. 

        Your feet began moving before your mind realized what was happening and took over. You swerved out of his path and trekked onward in the opposite direction, only realizing that the staggering heartbeat pounding in your ears was practically deafening when his head tilted back to cackle and you couldn’t hear it. The thought saddened you, and a wave of embarrassment overtook that sadness. Head dipping to hide your blush--What the hell was wrong with you!--you let your gaze study the ground, only catching a glimpse of the ants he was about to crush just before his foot steamrolled right over them. Then the chuckling grew louder. 

        Yep, definitely some sort of held-back senior.

        You turned back to watch him as he walked away, fluffy hair bobbing with each step, and it finally clicked. “Was he wearing a blindfold?” you mumbled, eyes wide and arms dangling helplessly by your sides. The suitcases you’d been lugging around for what must have been eight hours now rolled to a stop beside you, and you placed a palm on one of the handles to steady yourself. Your body was buzzing at the sound of his deep chuckle.

        Just who the hell was that guy?

        “YLN YN?” A deep voice suddenly spoke beside you, shocking you out of your stupor with a flinch. You struggled to drag your gaze to the man who loomed beside you, another absolutely terrifying colossus with broad shoulders, sunglasses, and deep lines in his brow. While you wondered what the hell was in the water, the man, who introduced himself as the principal you’d spoken to over the phone, asked, “What’s your first impression?”

        “Of what?” You glanced around, suddenly nervous he meant the school layout you’d been too distracted to observe yet. 

        He gestured his head toward the man still strolling away, who was now whistling a tune. “Gojo Satoru. That’s the teacher who recommended you, the one we believe has your matching soulmark.”

        Your mind fell blank, and your eye began to twitch. 

        10.

        “That was him? That’s the guy who’s worthy of a freaking ten?!”

        “People tend to say that,” he remarked monotonously. In utter disbelief, you looked at the principal, then at the man, then at the principal again, investigating his face for a hint of jest, but it soon became apparent he wasn’t that kind of man. 

        “Are you serious?” The words still slipped out without your volition. 

        He didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded towards the ground where the man had walked earlier. 

        No ant massacre. No little ant workers losing their little ant minds and scrambling around the trampled bodies of their little ant friends. Just a perfectly organized, studious line of tiny black dots holding salvaged crumbs in the same orderly way they’d done it just before the man had--evidently not--stepped on them. 

        “How the hell…”

        You’d seen it. With your own two eyes, you’d watched him step on them. At the very least, if somehow his ginormous feet had managed to miss all fifty or so of them, you’d think they’d at least be scurrying around trying to find better cover. 

        “It’s one of his techniques,” the principal commented, piquing your interest. “It makes him relatively invincible, almost untouchable. It’s called- er, what are you doing?”

        You stay crouched beside your open suitcase, rifling through the folded clothes and toiletries to get to the zipped up, hidden compartment of the hardshell reserved for valuable items. When you fished out what you had been looking for, the principal hummed in thought, but stayed otherwise silent.

        Rising from your squat, you clicked each end of the compound bow into place, extending it from its compact position. Then you nocked one of the few carbon-shafted arrows you’d been able to fit into your suitcase diagonally, narrowing your gaze on your target as you pulled back the bowstring comfortably close to your cheek. One twitch of your fingers and the arrow was let loose, flying towards the middle of your soulmate’s back. 

        He froze at the sound, and you sucked in a breath when it hit its mark. 

        He’s a ten, he’ll be fine. He’s a ten, he’ll be fine. The mantra repeated itself in your head every second your soulmate stood stock still. 

        But then he twisted around, and the arrow stayed levitating in place. Your legs almost collapsed beneath you in…amazement? Maybe relief? You weren’t quite sure. You watched as his head tilted to one side, observing the arrow now pointed towards the center of his chest. Then, with a half-grin, he untucked a hand from his pocket and snagged it from the air with an unceremonious snort. 

        “Well that wasn’t very nice.” He waggled it at you like a discipling finger.

        “Ten,” you could only mumble in response. It was the only thing running through your mind right now, the only word you could even speak. Your eyes were still wide in shock, locked on the arrow that had somehow floated in mid-air. You’d always planned on testing your soulmate in some way, but you’d never really tried to predict the outcome. You’d only ever planned on a before, never an after. 

        “Zero,” he simpered, a teasing lilt in his tone. Though your mind began to hyperfocus on his taunting tendencies, the rest of your body suffered the after-effects of a shiver running down your spine. Would your name sound just as captivating as your number, you wondered.

        “I’m afraid I have a mission to get to,” he continued, unzipping his jacket, “but we’ll be discussing this-” he flourished the arrow at you once more “-later.” Then he pocketed it within his black jacket, zipping himself back up before reaching up to his blindfold. He peeled up one edge of the black cloth, and your jaw grew slack at the sight of long, white lashes bordering a hypnotizing, iridescent blue iris.

        You barely took note of his wink before he slid the blindfold back into place, turning on his heel and waving a hand behind him. “See you soon, zero.”

                                ~~~

        One sip of the golden, bubbly liquid left a hint of apple on your tongue and a slight tingle at the back of your throat. You relaxed further into the cushions of the sofa, sweeping your tongue over the residual foam on your upper lip.

        A cloudless sky filled your domain, and a slight breeze blew back the stray hairs on your forehead whenever the sun grew too hot. You set the flute of champagne back onto the coffee table you’d summoned in front of you just beside the open bottle. Its sides were still sticky from the froth that had overflowed, and the cork was long absorbed by the soil. 

        Japan, you thought, was going to be wonderful. You were still in search of a permanent home in the city, but for the time being the principal--Yaga, he preferred--offered you a dorm on campus. On your campus.

        After presenting him with the wrinkly finger you’d so lovingly confined in thirty layers of paper towels, duct tape, and three Ziploc bags, along with a haphazard resume you’d concocted on three hours of sleep, he’d proposed a trial run of a job. 

        You were a temp. 

        Not only that, you were a babysitting temp.

        “You really think I’m qualified to teach first years?” you asked, though immediately regretted after remembering the “27 Dos and Don’ts for Interviews” you’d memorized beforehand. 

        Do build yourself up.

        Don’t reveal what you suck at in any way possible, no siree bob.

        “Well, I’ll admit that’s not all I expect of you. We are not in desperate need of a first-year teacher, but we believe that the current teacher is someone you could have a good influence on.” It was the first time the daunting man before you had ever avoided your gaze, fiddling with one of the many teddy bears that crowded his office on his lap. 

        The words sunk in after a moment, and the breath was stolen from your chest. 

        “Hold on. Are you saying that I could be working alongside that guy?”

        “Yes.” He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose for just a second. “As much as we believe in his abilities, it is his…” he paused, searching for the right word, “personality that we fear he may pass onto the students instead of his expertise. We don’t need duplicates of Gojo-” he dragged out a sigh,“-but I fear we may already have some in the works. Thus, I hope you may be able to counteract his impression on them.”

        The seat beneath you had long grown hard and stiff, and you fidgeted on top of it. 

        “After all,” he set down his teddy bear, “there was a reason we sent him to report on you in the first place, Ms. YLN.”

        The situation was bittersweet with a little more sweet than bitter, so you had accepted the conditions. Though the thought of working alongside your soulmate had appealed to you at first, that had been before you remembered you’d shot an arrow at him. 

        And how he’d smirked afterwards.

        The wink he’d given you once more resurfaced to the forefront of your mind, and you dropped your head into your hands with a groan. A rapid thumping started in your chest, and you reached out for the flute once more, swallowing the remaining liquid. 

        You cursed under your breath after sweeping the back of your hand across your lips. “Can’t believe it’s one wink and I’m blushing like a little schoolgirl. What the hell’s wrong with me?” With a shake of your head, you kicked off your boots and reclined horizontally along the couch, squirming to get yourself into a comfortable position before dropping an arm over your eyes. 

        A sigh escaped you, and you tried to silence your wandering mind by zoning in on the sounds around you. Wind rustling the grass, new, fresh raindrops pattering against the soil, and your own heart slowly pounding. The cold began to nip at your skin, and you pondered summoning a blanket. 

        Then a rumbling of the ground below you caused you to drop your champagne glass. As it was swallowed up by the earth, you twisted to sit up straight, brows furrowed and eyes searching the line of trees hundreds of yards away. 

        Another tremor, this one strong enough to rattle the bottle on the coffee table. Glass clinked against wood as it finally tipped over, spilling its contents all over the polished surface. You could feel the trembling through your entire body now, teeth chattering as you clutched onto the couch, almost slipping right off.

        Your bow and a full quiver of arrows were spat out by a sudden crack in the earth that sealed itself after they surfaced, and you gathered them up into your arms. Unsteadily rising to your feet, you splayed your arms out for balance, body wavering in effort to not tip over against the force of the quake.

        “What the fuck is happening?” you barked, head darting back and forth to search along the circle of trees around you. Their long branches grew entangled with one another, each thick trunk wobbling as though it was being uprooted as the trees swayed in a new, far stronger gust of wind. Rain poured now, and you slipped on a jacket that emerged from the grass, forcing the hood up and over your head before setting an arrow and pulling back the bowstring.

        Even through the sights you couldn’t see anything, couldn’t aim for anything. Everything was blurry as your eyes rattled around in your skull, a headache born from the hard vibrations of your domain pinching and stabbing at your brain. 

        Someone was trying to get in, you realized. 

        And it was working.

        One more tremble and you dropped to your hands and knees, crying out in agony. It felt like someone had forced their way into your brain and gripped each half, trying to split it apart. You shoved your face against the damp grass, hoping for some relief while bracing both hands behind your neck. Your jaw ached from how hard you clenched your teeth, and you were almost positive blood had begun dripping from your nose. 

        Stop, make it stop. Go away, just make it stop. Stop! Please!

        You felt your body go slack, too tired from being tense for an extended period of time, and you rolled over, allowing the stars in your vision to dance until watching them was too exhausting. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you wormed your arms out from under you to splay out at your sides, the quakes palpable under your fingertips.

        And then it stopped. 

        All of it--all the pain, the headache, the trembling underneath you. All of it had disappeared without a trace, as though it were never even there.

        “Well now, almost caused me a little trouble there.”

        You didn’t even have enough energy to flinch nor to contest when two arms slid underneath your back and knees, hauling you up and a few seconds later dropping you down onto what you assumed was your leather sofa. 

        Two fingers peeled open your eyelid, and white hair filled your vision. Gleaming blue eyes watched you in amusement, and in your peripheral you noticed upturned lips. 

        Such a…dick.

        Your soulmate hummed and pulled his hands away, allowing your lid to close before pressing a hand to your forehead. “Quite a fight you put up for a while there. Almost had me breaking a sweat. Can’t imagine you’re feeling any good.”

        But, to your slight dismay, you were. The feeling of his hands against you, on you, helped the echoes of pain still haunting your body fade away. A strong scent of pine mixed with clean musk and citrus flooded your senses. Unauthorized bliss buzzed along your bloodstream, goading your drained form to lean closer to the sudden source of endorphins.

        “Like shit,” you mumbled. “Your fault.”

        Gojo chuckled. “Maybe next time you should just let me in.” 

        “Hell no.”

        “Mmhmm, we’ll see about that.”

        The hand drifted from your forehead, and in a shameful state of panic you whined under your breath. When he laughed louder, you knew you didn’t want to open your eyes and see the smirk that would greet you.

        “So needy.” His hand palmed your cheek, thumb brushing the curve of your cheekbone. “Guess I’ll just have to be your doctor until you’re feeling better. I doubt you mind.”

        “Fuck…you…”

        “Soon, zero.”

        “Pervert.”

        He made a noise of objection, but rather than argue with your half-unconscious self, he grumbled something under his breath like “We’ll see about that,” before busying himself with prodding at your face with a tissue. You cracked open your eyes a sliver to see he’d pulled the coffee table up beside you, curling his form over yours to spare you from the easing downpour.

        The tips of his white hair dripped water onto your couch cushions, and only then did you realize his usual blindfold was down and around his neck. 

        Holy shit, is that really the same guy?

        Your gaze traveled farther down, brows furrowing in confusion when you realized he wasn’t wearing the same black jacket from before. In its place was a white, long-sleeved button up, the top button undone and the fabric entirely soaked through. 

        “I heard you got the job.” His voice dragged you out of your daze, forcing your attention up to his face. His eyes flashed when they met yours, an unidentifiable emotion flitting through them that left no trace a second later. “Congratulations.”

        “Yeah,” you shut your eyes once more, hoping to halt any heat rising to your face. “You're sitting on the champagne I was drinking.”

        “Ew.”

        “To be fair, you’re the one who spilled it.”

        “You could’ve warned me.”

        “Where’s the fun in that?”

        He didn’t respond, but his gaze was almost as palpable at the fingertips resting on your cheek. His other hand had long tossed away the tissue he’d used to clean up your bloody nose and was now propped on the couch cushions beside you so he could lean over you better. The rain had slowed to a drizzle now. 

        “So you heard I got the job, but did you hear I’m your babysitter too?”

        He sniggered. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Though you may be more enjoyable to have around.”

        You swallowed at that. “Oh?” Beneath your front was a raging pile of nerves you struggled to stifle. “I’m flattered.”

        “People always are.”

        Well that certainly helped. Your lips pursed in effort to hold back a sneer, but you opened your eyes to glare at him. 

        “Never mind.”

        “Nuh-uh,” he waggled his finger in your face, “can’t take it back now. Speaking of, I think I’m due an apology.”

        Both his hands abandoned their post on and around you, leaving you feeling cold and bare. When he reached toward your body, though, was when you wriggled to get away. He latched onto you, snagging something layered over your body as equally soaked as his shirt. After he lifted it up, you recognized it as his jacket, and something warm filled your chest while he fished something out of it. 

        Okay, he’s one cocky son of a bitch, but that was sweet.

        Then he revealed one of your arrows, the black metal tip all too familiarly engraved with your initials.

        “Anything to say for yourself?” He waved it over your head tauntingly, even tapping the tip of your nose with part of the shaft. 

        You smacked your lips shut, avoiding your gaze. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

        One long, slender finger poked the side of your forehead. “You sure? There must have been some reason for you trying to kill me.”

        You fell silent, and it took two seconds for him to grow bored with your lack of response. “Maybe,” he reached over your body, slipping past his jacket he’d lain over you once more, “just maybe it had something to do with this.” A warm grip on your wrist tugged it into sight, and Gojo slid down the sleeve of your jacket with his other hand. 

        The way the number ten was written matched his personality, you realized. It was dark and firmly settled into your skin with a certain amount of force behind it, but its effortless flow from one digit to the next displayed a level of insouciance you’d only ever seen in the man before you. 

        Gojo’s eyes studied the 10 with intense curiosity, like it was whispering secrets in his ears. His lips squeezed together before parting, words he couldn’t quite seem to grasp lying in wait upon them.

        “I-” you broke the silence first, staring at the number as well, though mostly to avoid his burning gaze, “-I imagine you being born with a zero was much less a dramatic experience than mine.” Your gaze fell to his own wrist, something you’d had yet to see bare. “...Right?”

        The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “My number was an attestation to the power of the Gojo family. You’d think they expected it of me.” He ran the pad of his thumb over the 10, a grin splitting his face when goosebumps rose from his actions. “So, I suppose, then, you may get a pass for shooting at me. But I’ll be keeping this.” His unoccupied hand slipped the arrow back into his jacket pocket. “Maybe I’ll just hang it on my wall from now on.”

        “And if I need it back?”

        “Nope, it's mine now.”

        “In exchange, then,” you sat up straighter, gulping “do I at least get to see your mark?” 

        His mouth softened into a small smile, and he offered his hand to you. “I suppose that’s fair.” Unlike yours, his body did not shiver at your touch. The second your fingertips grazed the palm of his hand, a sound not unlike a purr left him, and you did not bother looking up to his face, already knowing his eyes were on yours in return. 

        You’d grown accustomed to his stare by now, feeling it was something akin to sun rays burning into your skin. Already, too, you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

        0. 

        A little lopsided, larger on one end rather than the other. Bold and black against his lighter colored wrist, and soft to the touch. A sort of narcissistic satisfaction flooded your chest, and your body felt all the warmer for it. 

        “You must like what you see.” Gojo’s voice dragged you out of your reverie. “I know I do.”

        You only realized you were smiling when it fell at his words. Such an ass. You let your hands fall from his wrist onto your lap, and, acknowledging the urge to reach for him once more, you occupied your hands by picking at your fingernails. 

        “Your blush is adorable, you know that?” Without warning, his hand cupped your cheek. He ran his fingertips along your reddened skin, dancing them over your cheekbone and running them behind your ear along with a strand of hair. All the while, he studied your face, chuckling at the veil of wariness that took over. “So cute,” he mumbled. 

        Then he stood up.

        “Well then. I guess I got what I came here for.” His sudden movements gave you whiplash, and you flinched back when he rose to his feet. With two palms planted on his back, he pushed his abdomen forward, groaning at the stretch. 

        You bit your tongue. 

        “Now, I gotta go. It was nice seeing you, zero.” He grasped the blindfold around his neck, sending you one last wink before securing it over his eyes. 

        Out from under the weight of his crystalline gaze, you relaxed back onto your couch, sucking in a short breath. 

        “Three days from now we have our first mission together,” he reached for the coat over your lap, pulling it on and patting down the pockets. The corner of his lips rose. “I’d say be there on time, but I’d hate to keep you waiting. Expect a half-hour delay or more.” 

        He paused and pursed his lips, his head tilting to one side. “Actually, you know what, I’ll just come find you. Make it easier that way.” With that, he turned and walked away, throwing a wave over his shoulder. “See you then, zero.

        “Oh, and next time, I suggest you just let me in. Save yourself the trouble--you’ll know when it’s me.”

                                ~~~

        A fierce wind whistled through the abandoned building, its wooden walls crackling and crying at its touch. Spare leaves scraped along the ground along with broken glass from both fallen photographs and busted windows. Through every hole in the wall filtered in a bit of sunlight, highlighting the dust you and Gojo kicked up with your every footstep. The floorboards underneath you wobbled uncertainly. 

        “Nanami said authorities reported two suspicious persons hiding out inside this building.” You glanced up from the text message, eyeing the torn, bloodstained furniture that lay askew around the room. “So that means there’s two demons after one finger.” You pocketed your phone. 

        “God, that sounds like the worst porn ever.” You hurled a glare at Gojo, who raised his hands in defense. “Am I wrong?”

        “You’re perverted is what you are,” you sighed, massaging a finger against your temple. 

        “But not wrong,” he sang as you both walked on. 

        Another strong gust of wind tore into the room, slamming open the entry door and blowing a tuft of your hair into your face. You spat it out with an annoyed grumble, but just as you reached up to pull the final strands from your lips, Gojo caught your wrist and, in turn, your attention. 

        “Over there,” he gestured his head to a side room that split off from the one you currently stood in. It appeared to be a bedroom judging by the yellowed mattress visible from the doorway, but a rancid scent of spoiled eggs intermingling with dried blood wafted toward you from its direction. With the scent came palpable cursed energy. 

        “One for me, one for you?” you asked, blindly reaching for an arrow in your quiver while removing your bow from around your chest. The energy was so strong you were almost choking on it, and when you took a deep breath to relieve yourself from the pressure, you gagged at the taste.

        Gojo paused, staring at you for a second and watching as you loaded the arrow and pulled back the string. “We’ll see,” he said, reaching up and removing his blindfold. 

        Your grip on your bow faltered, and you relaxed your hold on the arrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        Gojo did not bother waiting for you nor answering your question, instead disappearing from your side, blue eyes glowing and body cocooned in a sort of translucent, wavering bubble. 

        Then all hell broke loose. 

        A broken squeal pierced your ears before sizzling black blood painted the doorway. The building began rattling more from Gojo’s fight than from the wind outside, and you feared the infrastructure was going to collapse from the pressure. Anxious--and perhaps feeling a bit left out--you darted towards the room, making the subconscious decision to avoid the splatter on your way. 

        The second you stepped foot inside, you found yourself in a domain. From what you could tell, it wasn’t Gojo’s. Though you’d never actually seen his domain, you figured it would look a little less monstrous than the one you were currently in. 

        Concrete rubble crunched underneath your feet. Glistening stalagmites rose from the floor, oozing with a black liquid not unlike tar that made it appear as if they were melting. The black abyss you stood in was sweltering, and almost instantly you felt your long sleeve jacket and pants begin sliding and sticking against your skin. A green fog hung in the air, a medium for the light of the crescent moon dangling in the sky. A monster’s domain indeed. 

        In all your time admiring, you almost missed the figure bounding toward you. A long blue tongue reached out to lap at the side of your face, and you sidestepped just in time, shivering at the hot breath that still managed to reach you where the tongue had missed. The creature blew past you completely, four spindly legs scrambling for purchase in the uneven rubble. 

        “Holy shit,” you gasped, eyes wide as you loaded and aimed your bow. Your chest pounded hard enough to flood your ears, and your heartbeat was palpable in your fingertips. When the monster’s head, resembling a spider’s with a hundred eyes all locked on you and fangs drooping from its mouth, sat on top of your arrow point, you let your fingers slip from the string. 

        “YN!” Gojo’s voice perked your ears, and just as you turned to find him, another spirit, this one twice your size with sharp thorns covering every inch of its body, reached with one large, three-fingered hand for your head, its two eyes deep pits of fire and rage.

        And despair, but you figured it was only your own gaze reflected within his. 

        You envisioned it to be somewhat like a strong man twisting the cap off a pickle jar, or perhaps even squeezing a tomato in his fist hard enough that it bursts, juices flying everywhere. Maybe it would be like being flung around like a ragdoll, body flailing as your head stays trapped in his palm. 

        Whatever it was, you were certain it wasn’t going to feel nice. 

        In one last, hail-Mary attempt, you tried to sink into your domain, to feel the light droplets and the forgiving sofa one last time. “Please,” you whispered.

        Everything grew dark and quiet. White noise rang in your ears, fluctuating with each racing heartbeat that shook its way through your body. When you did open your eyes, there was nothing, not even black darkness in your sight. 

        Nothing. 

        Nothing but a pounding headache, like someone trying to split your head open and read your thoughts like an open book. 

        “YN! YN, wake up!”

        It was him, that voice. But something was wrong, wasn’t it?

        “Come on, you can’t do this to me--I just found you!”

        It was distant, like usual. So far away you could barely hear him. But there was something about his tone–why was he so scared?

        “Wake up for me, YN. Please, just look at me.”

        He wasn’t laughing. His voice sounded so weird when he wasn’t laughing at your defeat, and isn’t that what he’d always done?

        Perhaps, maybe, it was because you’d won for once?

        Or, perhaps, maybe, he’d lost?

        Nonetheless, a short laugh escaped you. A small giggle, accompanied by a snort. Then another chuckle, louder now, because it was just so funny!

        How could a ten possibly lose?

        The very idea was hilarious!

        You cackled louder, wheezing in effort as you braced two hands over your stomach, trying to ease the pain of the action. Your own howls met your ears, sounding even more ridiculous coming from you, and that made you laugh harder. 

        He had gone silent. 

        You opened your eyes a sliver, gray, drizzling skies dampening your face and mingling with the tears already present. Your wrinkled clothes, still damp with sweat, grew cold and clung to your skin. The grass underneath you tickled your bare palms. 

        Gojo. Gojo loomed over you, long fingers paused in their obvious raking through his white hair. His blindfold was nowhere to be seen, and his chest rose and sank in a swift pattern. 

        Opalescent eyes scoured your face, and it was when you felt a pressure on your lips that you realized he had moved to cradle your head in his palms. 

        “What,” he whispered, choking on a breath, “-What was so fucking funny?” 

        All the laughter had been sapped away, slowly deteriorated along with your energy as you let your head relax in his hold. Your hands reached up on their own volition and grasped at his wrist, trying to move him or stop him from moving, you weren’t quite sure. 

        “Am I alive?” you pondered aloud. 

        Gojo shook his head in disbelief, gnawing angrily on his lip before hissing a curse under his breath. He made a move to release his hold on you, and that was when you discovered you were holding him there.

        “Yes. Yes, you are, and I can’t fucking believe it.”

        “You know what’s funny?”

        His eyes snapped to yours. “No, I really don’t. Please, for the love of God, enlighten me.”

        “All my life, I thought you would be this… this sort of invincible god. A ten. I thought you were the one who was going to kill me.”

        “YN-”

        “But you didn’t. You saved me.” You removed his hands from your face, with an evidently necessary amount of force, and wrestled yourself up into a sitting position, your legs splayed out before you. Gojo kneeled beside you, one of his hands insistent on your back. “You were so scared, Satoru. But you shouldn’t be.” You couldn’t help it; you reached up to cup his cheek, wiping away a raindrop from under his eye. “Because no matter how much I don’t like it, I know you have been and you always will be there to save me.”

        Gojo chewed on the inside of his lip, eyes examining every inch of your face as if he was trying to imprint it into memory. You doubted you looked as great as his gaze implied--your hair was a rat’s nest on top of your head, your entire body was trembling, and your eyes were still unsteady from the blows you’d almost taken amidst the fight. 

        “You’re gonna be such a pain in my ass, zero,” he hummed.

        Then his lips captured yours.

                                ~~~

        “So, you…eat…the fingers?”

        “Yep.”

        “Well… are they good?”

        “Nope.”

        You purse your lips and nod. “Okay… but why was your first thought to eat it?”

        Fushiguro shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

        “Will do.”

        You led the group of first years to the school courtyard, directing them toward the center of the clearing where you stood. The sun shone today, blisteringly hot with only a cool breeze every few seconds to offer slight relief. Birds chirped in the trees of the school’s surrounding forest, and Itadori frantically swatted away a few gnats. 

        “All right, everyone, today you will learn my cursed technique.”

        You closed your eyes, focusing a little harder to allow three more people into your domain than usual. You envisioned a plain of grass, a surrounding barrier of roses, then trees. You saw the light gray sky, the cooling drops of rain, the barely-visible sun.

        “Gojo?!”

        And Gojo splayed out on your sofa, arm thrown over his eyes, mouth open to catch flies as he snored. He was a large jumble of long limbs and white hair sitting lopsided on your couch. 

        “Didn’t he say he was on a mission today?” Kugisaki asked, her brow raised. 

        Yuuji creeped toward him, finger outstretched and ready to poke him in the cheek. He met an invisible wall instead. 

        “Are you really surprised?” Fushiguro crossed his arms. “My question is, why’s he in here?”

        Three pairs of eyes turned to you, and, helpless, you shrugged. “Sometimes he breaks in to take naps. I’ve gotten used to it after a while.”

        “Hold on, are you the ‘zero’ lady he’s always talking about?!” Itadori gawked at you, his eyes locked onto your wrist.

        A loud yawn split the air. Gojo, his snores finally silenced, let his arm fall from his face. A smirk danced on his lips when he saw you, but it fell when he saw the three first years. He locked his glowing gaze on their forms and groaned exhaustedly. 

       “Yes she is. My little zero.” He winked at you, then turned his blue glare onto them. “Now scatter, you three. My wife’s domain is my nap space, not yours.”

Can i request akaashi x reader like heather Y/N love akaashi but akaashi don't make it super angsty pleaseee like no happy ending for the reader✨

heather like the movie/play or like the song bro pls gimme more explain i yearn for it. also no happy ending for the reader like "yeah just throw that bitch off the cliff honestly she'll survive just do it👀"

so many people came to me for angst like it always hurts so bad why do yall read this 😩 i see u moved on to jjk tho awesome fandom best of luck to u with ur angsty wishes bro