Dear Winter - AJR. Thats All I'm Gonna Give You. Have Funnnnnn

Calling Him by His Name (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)

(Third Gym Version) Part 1

Bokuto, Akaashi, Hinata

A/N: Yes yes I am the writer who diPPed for a solid week, and I apologize for that y’all😔 Here is a lil text post to say sorry for not existing and THANK YOU FOR 1.8k FOLLOWERS BC HOW TF DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN WHILE I POST LITERALLY NOTHING— enjoy!

I'm so sorry it took me so long to finally read the second part. Again, I'm on my knees for desperate and in love Gaz. To have a man half as devoted as Gaz is would be a DREAM

ahhhh you're all good I just posted the final part and am mentally and emotionally exhausted...

...which means he is wonderfully whiny and needy all over again. I'm actually considering posting the blurbs i have left over from my idea doc for this fic but we'll see how this last part gets received first😬

but I'm so glad you enjoyed the second part!!🥹

Drunk Confession (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A very drunk Anakin has some very sober thoughts for you to hear. 

A/N: Anakin is hot, that’s all I gotta say. Enjoy!

Word count: 2128

“YNNNN!”

The wail of your name roused you from your slumber, followed by a loud crash outside your dorm. 

“Ow.”

The sun hadn’t risen outside your window, and darkness still shrouded your room aside from a small glow exuding from your alarm clock. 2:37 AM, it read. 

Who in the goddamn fuck-

“YN open up!” Loud knocks sounded outside your room, but not on your door. 

Uh oh. 

You scrambled from your bed, cursing under your breath as the night air nipped at your skin. Snagging your Jedi robe hanging from the wall near your door, you shrugged on the warmer layers and hugged them close around your body, which had only previously been clad in undergarments.

You couldn’t press the button to open the door fast enough, but by the time it had, you were too late. 

Obi-Wan stood with a brow raised in his own doorway, obviously unimpressed with the figure before him. And, clad in his usual getup of dark robes, leather boots, and tousled hair, stood Anakin Skywalker in complete disarray. His robe, already worn inside-out, slouched off one of his shoulders. Parts of his hair were knotted and tangled, matted down and stuck to his head with sweat. As he stared in utter confusion at his former master, his entire body swayed from side-to-side.

He was totally shitfaced. 

“Master?” he hiccuped. “What are you doing in YN’s room?” There was a slur to his words, one you hadn’t caught when he was shouting for the entire Jedi dorm to hear. 

Obi-Wan, shockingly impassive, drew his gaze to you, a single brow raised. You hadn’t realized your hand had come up to muffle a snicker until Anakin almost toppled over. You jumped up from your position across the hall as his body leaned too far to one side, but thankfully Obi-Wan reached out a hand to steady him before you could. 

Then Anakin smacked his hand away. “I said, what are you doing in YN’s room?” His tone was angry, filled with betrayal. His hand went to his hip, where his lightsaber was latched, and that was when Obi-Wan lost his patience. 

Staring past Anakin and at you, he nodded toward the Jedi Knight. “I believe this is yours.” With that, he retreated to his room, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. 

You stood with pursed lips, waiting and watching as the wheels in Anakin’s head turned, trying to comprehend Obi-Wan’s words. Finally, he turned around in utter disorientation, only to straighten up like a pleased puppy at the sight of you. 

“YN!” he shouted much louder than necessary. He reached out, making his way towards you only for the sudden movements to give him whiplash as he stumbled to the right, completely miscalculating your location as he crashed face-first into the wall beside your dorm. 

You cringed, sucking in a breath through your teeth before going to his aid. “You okay?” you asked gently, grabbing an arm and guiding him into your room. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, rubbing his nose. “That hurt.”

“I’m sure,” you cooed, rubbing up and down his arm comfortingly as you led him to a seat on your bed. “Stay here.”

“Wait,” he snapped to attention as his metal arm snagged yours, grip tight but not enough to leave a mark, “where are you going?” His eyes were wide and nervous as they danced around your face. He seemed scared you were going to disappear forever once you left right now. 

“I’m just gonna get you a glass of water,” you soothed, unlatching his hand from your wrist. His gaze fell to the action, and his grip tightened just a bit before he let go completely with a furrow of his brows. 

“But I have to tell you something.”

“I figured,” you chuckle, “but I’ll be quick.” Escaping out of your room and down the hall, you left with the feeling of Anakin’s despairing eyes still latched onto you. You slipped into the bathroom, filling the cup with tap water as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Eyes bloodshot from being woken up, your hair a rat’s nest on the top of your head, and a small drop of drool on the corner of your mouth-ew! You yanked the cup out from under the stream where it had been overflowing and set it on the counter before scrubbing your face. The cold was a shock to your system, less-so than Anakin’s being drunk outside your room at two a.m., but still did the trick to remind you that this wasn’t a dream, and that, yes, a very drunk–yet somehow still very attractive–Anakin had been calling your name and searching for you. 

It didn’t help that you’d had a crush on him ever since you’d met as young padawans and he’d arrogantly introduced himself as the Chosen One. It really didn’t help at all. 

With a couple of smacks to your cheeks, you finally had the courage to return to your room, leaving the bathroom and immediately crashing into a solid chest. 

Anakin, you realized, glancing up for reassurance. He looked distraught, eyes wild and unfocused as he towered over you. 

You were surprised you hadn’t heard him coming, considering he was barely in a state to walk a straight line much less make it down the hall and around the corner. Well, you thought, somehow he made it back to the Jedi temple from whatever bar he came from alive, surely this wasn’t as difficult.

Until you realized his hand was stationed against the wall for support as he swayed. 

Scratch that–how the hell is he even alive?

“Anakin,” you stressed, “what are you doing? I told you to wait.” Like a lost puppy, you led him back to your room, the skin of his forearm much too hot underneath his robes. 

“You took so long, I got nervous.” And yet the only one who seemed nervous as you arrived back in your room was you. Anakin, on the other hand, locked his eyes reverently on your form as you returned him to his place on your bed, watching you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes as you handed him the glass and told him to drink, to flush out the obvious abundance of alcohol in his system. 

At your command, he downed the glass of water in seconds, swallowing and licking his lips. You forced your gaze away from the action when you realized you were staring too long afterwards. Yet, even as muddled as he was, he still noticed, still smirked like he always did. 

For so many years you figured you were hiding your crush so well, thought he was just the type of guy to smirk at everyone for such things. It wasn’t until he had gotten a padawan of his own, gotten an army of his own, that you realized the way he acted around you alone was different. 

Even as smashed as he was, he still made you feel as though you were acting the fool. Like he was teasing you–how embarrassing. 

Shame colored your face as you spun around, searching for something to do as a drunk Anakin lounged on your bed. 

“YN?”

“Hmm?” You still faced away, searching the room for anything else to do but stare at the sight on your bed. That is, until a hand latched around yours, yanking you around hard enough that you almost fell over. The force of the pull landed you straight between Anakin’s knees, his hand still on yours while the other stabled you at your hip. Your hand had instinctively gripped his shoulder, but you stole it away quickly. 

Nonetheless, he stared at you, positioned in front of him. For a minute, that’s all he did. Stare and stare, eyes locked on yours as the smirk on his face carefully transformed into a dropped jaw. He looked at you like… you didn’t really know how to describe it.

Like… like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, who placed planets in orbit. Like you were the cause of the glow of the sun, like you shifted the tides using the moon. Like you were worth worship, worth praise, worth the doting look that took over his face.

A shiver crawled over your skin the more he looked at you; you’d barely noticed his hand had taken to slipping past your robes and connecting with the bare skin of your side, metal thumb caressing the skin. The other was still latched on your wrist like he never wanted to let go. Distantly, you wondered if it would leave a bruise. 

A heavy silence fell over the room, just you waiting in anticipation as Anakin lost his focus, face flushed with besottedness. For once, you didn’t feel like he had the upper hand over your feelings. For once, it appeared you controlled his. 

“YN.” He mumbled your name almost subconsciously, like it had slipped out without his knowing. 

“What?” Softly, carefully, you urged him for more. In response, his eyes locked on your lips, running his tongue over his own involuntarily. His face, so dazed, so infatuated, so lost, finally seemed to have come to grips with his purpose for that moment. 

“I’m in love with you.”

For a second, you felt nothing. You said nothing. No reaction, no response. Nothing. You didn’t even breathe. 

For years you’d dreamt of… well, not exactly this moment, but something akin to it. Anakin professing his feelings, appearing absolutely infatuated with you. His handsome face glowing with joy as you returned the sentiment. His hands steadily, assuredly cupping your face and guiding your lips to his. 

Like in your dreams, your chest was so trembly and shaky, so completely and utterly in disbelief that the man you’d been in love with for years was completely infatuated with you. Your hands shake and breaths escape you in pants as though you’d ran miles just moments prior. Your heart was pounding hard, trying to escape and your mind grew blankly overwhelmed. 

Anakin, having spent the last few seconds with zero response from your end, was visibly unnerved. He searched your face for any reaction, any clue into what you were feeling. Finding nothing, he looked lost, scared, and dejected. 

Long ago had he sobered up, but the alcohol was still in his system as he staggered to his feet, not largely taller than you but his overall form still being a formidable sight. You’d been forced to lift your head as he rose, following his movements. A waft of alcohol infiltrated your nose. 

The hand previously on your side rose to your face, cupping your rosy cheek. A cold thumb caressed your cheekbone for just a moment as he took in your face as though for the last time. Then he shook his head in what you could only interpret as anguish. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated, this time less shy. “For so many years, I have been. And I thought you felt the same, but I see now that I am wrong.” 

You open your mouth to question him, but he continues. “I’m sorry for bothering you tonight.” A sad, forced smile encompasses his face. “Let’s forget this ever happened. Goodnight, YN.”

Your chest grew filled with guilt and regret and pity for making him think this way. And when his hand moved to drop from your face, you drew up your own to prevent it. Your face, you were sure, was filled with too many emotions to interpret–confusion, for doubt that this was real; joy, for happiness that the man you loved returned your feelings; amazement, for sheer question of how you had come to be this lucky. 

But a flicker of hope struck his eyes at your action, and so he stayed put, waiting dutifully for your response. 

Like your dreams, his lips were soft. Like your dreams, he eagerly responded, pulled you in, close and tight, like he would never let you go; he swore himself to you, would do anything for you, would follow you anywhere. 

Like your dreams, you worried for the Jedi Council’s discovery of your love, and Anakin kissed your worries away. 

Just leave it to me, he said the next morning, his arms tight around your form, his ruffled hair glowing like a halo in the morning sun. His bare skin was hot against yours. I’ll handle it. We can be together, and they won’t be able to stop us. 

Like your dreams, you trusted him.

Oh goodness I briefly couldn’t find you in tumblr’s search bar and was so worried you were gone 😭 but lo and behold here you are, and with hq posts I’ve never read yet!! I’m so excited, but first - I hope you’ve been well, that you had some nice times over the holidays, and that the new year is off to a good start for you!! 💖

Aagkcndkk this is so sweet! I’ve been great—I hope you’ve been well too, anon!!

I know it’s been a while, but I gotta admit it’s been nice to tackle writing again. I hope you like what you’re reading!💜💜

I love the yandere zuko headcannon so much that I read it almost every day

Yayyy thank you! I’m so glad there are Yandere atla lovers out there bc lets be honest, there’s a serious lack in those types of fics😔 thank you so much for the love!🥰💜💜

Betrayal (Garou x Reader) *Request*

*GIF not mine*

Request: Uh hi I don't know if I had already asked this but I was wondering if you could do Garou with a s/o who is Bang's granddaughter who knows the same level of martial arts that Bang does.

Summary: You were interested in Garou ever since he stepped foot into your grandfather’s dojo. But after he attacks the others and gets expelled, you have to try and forget every emotion that’s ever festered for him over the years.

A/N: Sorry, I went a little overboard. But I loved this idea so much, and thank you for the request! Dear God, I hope and pray this one posts. (Edit: GUH I dont know how to post thisssss) Anyways, hope you like it!

Word count: 3145

       You’ve watched him for years, and over that time you had grown to admire him. Grown to admire his ambition for power.

                             ***

      “Teach me how to fight!” the white-haired boy demanded. He was roughly your age, maybe a year older, but as you watched from behind the sliding door of your grandfather’s dojo, you couldn’t help but gasp at his words. Bang, however, only smiled.

      “Okay, you can train alongside my granddaughter in the back during classes. She can teach you many things, and help you when necessary.” You preened at his praise and stepped into view, only to flinch at the snarl the new boy threw you. Well he’s mean.

      The next day, whenever you commented on his amateur form, Garou would sneer at you and deny your words. After Bang had backed up your claims several times following this, however, the boy began to lower his walls, only slightly, but enough to trust you.

      Months after that, the two of you became great friends, and harbored elementary crushes on one another like most at that age would.

      “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” you both shouted, Garou squealing after you smack him on the head viciously.

      “That hurt, YN!” You giggle.

      “It’s supposed to!” He glares at you playfully before attempting to tackle you, only for you to kick him back harshly into the dojo walls mid-laugh. The crash causes everyone in the room to freeze and watch Garou wiggle himself out of the indent it had created.

      “YN!” Bang’s shout causes you to jump up and stand at attention. “What have I always taught you.”

      “Restrain and control are necessary for peace,” you recite like a prayer, keeping your eyes low in an attempt to ignore your grandfather’s disciplinary gaze.

      “Good, now go help Garou wash up. And apologize.” You nod hastily and grab your friend’s hand, leading him out of the room.

      “I’m not sorry, you know,” you smirk at him with mischievous eyes. The boy copies your expression with willing ease and chuckles.

      “Are you ever?” he asks, and you proudly shake your head in response. “Oh, YN, what would your grandpa think if he knew?”

      “Don’t be a snitch, Garou,” you scold, leading him into the bathroom and gesturing for him to give you his uniform to wash.

      “I would never betray you, YN. But seriously, you gotta teach me that kick one day, it’s super powerful!” He trembles with excitement while shimmying off his karategi and handing it to you.

      “I-I don’t know. My grandfather has been teaching me since birth, I wouldn’t know where to begin with you.”

      “Ugh,” Garou huffs irritably, “that old man has never been willing to show me anything more than the others. How do I-...” he trails off while staring at you, obviously plotting something.

      “I don’t like it when you think, Garou, it usually ends badly.” His lips slowly curl up into a sly grin.

      “YN,” he drags out your name with a pleading expression, “could you be the best girl in the world and ask your grandfather to help me get stronger?” You raise your brows at him and cross your arms.

      “Garou, you know we practice restraint here. It’s all about using our opponent’s strength against them, not always using our own.” His Adam's apple bobs before he nods his head frantically.

      “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I want to learn to get better at… you know, that stuff.” He was your best friend in the dojo, and you always had a soft spot for him. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask Grandpa Bang to help him. Plus, his puppy dog eyes were killer.

      “Ugh, fine!” You wave your arms at him before dropping them at your side, giving in. “I’ll do it-”

      “Thanks YN, you’re the best!” Garou engulfs you in his arms and squeezes you tightly, choking the air right out of you. But he was so warm, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged you. So you didn’t resist his grip.

      “I am the best,” you grumble, and Garou laughs before holding you tighter.

                              ***

      Unconscious bodies of people you had known since you were a baby were scattered all over the dojo floor. Your friends. As you returned to the training room of the building, you gasped at the sight of them all, and whimpered at the figure standing in the center of it all.

      “You’re all so weak,” Garou kicked the body next to him away before observing the rest. “To think I ever had to train at the same level as you numbskulls.” He sneered cruelly at every single one of them, not minding to step on a few hands on his way to the exit.

      “I’ll never get stronger here, learning restraint and all that other bullshit.” He whipped open the doors before stopping at a small voice.

      “Garou,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. At some point in the ten years that you had known him, he had changed drastically. He had grown mad with a hunger for power, and every spar session he had with the others became serious and bloody. It seems today he had finally snapped.

      “What have you done?” Your vision blurs as your cheeks dampen. Your whole body is trembling, not only with fear but with utter, complete betrayal.

      Garou doesn’t say a word. The lines on his forehead deepen and his eyes sadden, looking away to avoid your wounded gaze. In an instant, his form disappears out the door, and at the same time a presence arrives behind you.

      “He became corrupt,” your grandfather solemnly states behind you, setting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “He grew obsessed with gaining power, and now he is expelled from this dojo forever.” You blink rapidly to dry the wetness of your eyes, but your cheeks are still stained. How could he? You scrunch up your nose to hold back another flow of tears. Why did he have to do this? Your efforts fail.

      “I’m sorry, YN.” Bang has always been a strict grandfather. Never showing physical affection, always done through praise of your abilities and gentle smiles. So when he pulls you into a once-in-a-lifetime hug, you can’t help but break down into convulsing sobs in his arms.

      Why wasn’t I enough to stop him?

                              ***

      Power had always come easy to you. It flowed through your blood, literally. Your grandfather’s genes had influenced you to become a strong, capable person. But you didn’t care to nurture that power after what Garou had done. From that day forward, you took one section of Bang’s guidance and transformed it into a future job prospect. You wanted to be a teacher, but not in the dojo.

      However, you were still only in high school, so you held onto that dream and began a job as a babysitter.

      “Tareo!” You searched high and low for the child. Every inch of that playground had been scoured by you.

      Where is that little bastar- I mean, wonderful little biscuit.

      Using rude names in reference to others was a hard habit to break, but necessary for how often you found yourself around children. You had gotten it in your time around him, always hating on others and being distrustful of them. In the time that Garou had left your life, you realized how much of an effect he had on you in your younger years. He had been, after all, your only friend.

      “Tareo, where are you?!” you shouted, checking under the slide for the third time. You groan aloud when you come up empty, receiving weird stares from the rest of the park’s patrons.

      “I’m not a bad babysitter, I swear,” you laugh nervously to the crowd of parents and kids, “the boy is just a little rat-” you cough awkwardly, “I mean, fun child.” Smiling sarcastically, you walk past the families who jump out of your path dramatically and try not to flip them off.

      Maybe he was right. Humans are soft. Bunch of sissies can’t even agree out loud that kids are a pain in the-

      “...and this one shoots bullets using a slingshot!” Tareo! You finally found him!

      “Mmhm, interesting. Can I see the book?” A random man hanging around the child you’re supposed to be surveilling! Fucking wonderful!

      “Tareo!” you push through the bushes and try to ignore the fact that there was a sidewalk five feet away, dusting off the leaves your sweater had collected. “Where have you been, kid? I’ve been looking all over… for… you.” Your semi-pleased tone dies off when you notice the man next to him. Your whole body tenses, rearing for a fight while you clench your jaw angrily.

      “Aww, and we just got to the good part too!” He spoke, smiling pleasantly at you. On the other hand, his eyes held an emotion you didn’t care to identify in the moment. You were trembling under his gaze, not with terror, but with rage.

      “Tareo, we have to go right now,” you seethed, curling your hands into fists while you stood frozen in place.

      “Or you could join us, YN,” Garou suggested, relaxing a strong arm along the bench behind the child.

      “Tareo, now!” you ordered, practically erupting with fury. The kid only sighed.

      “Sorry, old man, I gotta go. See you next time!” Tareo cheered, hopping off the public seat and stepping in your direction.

      “Bye bye, twerp.” Garou smugly waved and you sneered at him, snatching Tareo’s hand and dragging him away. “Good to see you again, YN!” he called after you. This time, you didn’t hesitate to show him the bird, much to the horror of the parents around you. Gasps mingled with Garou’s chuckle in the distance, and you tried not to revel in the nostalgic sound.

                              ***

      Grocery store sales attracted you and your grandfather like a fly to a piece of crap. Sadly, Bang had to stay behind today to teach a class, but said you were free to go without him. Occasionally, you would help him train the younger students at the dojo, but you tried to avoid doing it for too long, not wanting to remember a damn thing about him.

      “Ooh, Genos look! Eggs are on sale for cheap!” You tried not to stare at the bald man and his cybernetic friend beside you while you grabbed your own carton and tossed it into your basket.

      “Excellent find, master.” Master? “Eggs also promote healthy hair growth.” Oof.

      “I didn’t say it was for my hair!” You snickered all the way to the checkout line, hoping the bald one hadn’t heard you. You were dreaming big, because when you had first heard the robotic blond’s comment, you had choked on your own spit.

      “Twenty-seven, thirty-five is your total.” The cashier smiled good-naturedly at you, but her empty eyes whispered “kill me.” Giving her an awkward, apologetic smile, you held up the cash, only for a hand to reach in front of your own and hand her a fifty.

      “I got it,” a deep voice sounded beside you. Son of a bitch! You glared over at Garou and gave him the most disdainful sneer you could manage. “And just my strawberry yogurt too.”

      He followed you out of the store, ignoring every dirty look you threw at him.

      “Not even gonna thank me for paying? Where have your manners gone, YN?” He shook his head and pursed his lips. All right, you could play along.

      “I thought you hated strawberry yogurt,” you monotonously say, itching to sucker-punch Garou every passing second.

      “Well, I did, but recently, it’s been uh… growing on me.” He gave you a sweet smile that almost stopped you in your tracks. Faltering, you return to your earlier pace and spot a dark alley up ahead. The sun was beginning to go down, so now was as good a time as ever.

      “Cool. I like it too.” You speak distractedly, waiting for the perfect moment.

      Garou sighs deeply. “I know, that’s why I started-” Now!

      Nobody was anywhere in the nearby vicinity, so you swiftly upper-cut Garou with enough force to knock him into the dead-end alley. Tossing your broken bag of groceries aside, you clash with him just as he returns to his feet, blocking your punch in the nick of time.

      “You son of a bitch!” you scream, delivering rapid kicks and punches wherever you can find an opening. “You evil bastard!” Blue mist begins to trail after every blow you deliver, and this encourages you to go faster.

      “YN-” he blocks a rather sudden jab to his face, only to receive a kick in the no-no square. He keels over and groans painfully. “Fuck,” he mutters breathlessly.

      You step back and gather enough momentum to deliver another roundhouse kick directly to the side of his head, watching as he goes flying into the brick wall of the side-alley.

      “Rot in hell, you dickhead!” Your voice cracks and your eyes water. You hadn’t realized you were crying the whole time until you felt your soaked, puffy cheeks.

      Garou, on the other hand, is twitching on the ground, fists digging into the asphalt to find enough support to rise once more, only to flop back on the ground like a dead fish.

      “I certainly don’t miss that move,” the white-haired male chuckles, turning his head to spit out a loogie of blood. He lets out a loud groan before rolling onto his back, breathing heavily and letting out a small laugh every few seconds.

      “Why did you do it?” you whisper, head ducked and staring at your shoes, “Why did you attack them?” Your words are shaky and unstable, much like your emotions in this instant.

      “I never wanted to hurt you, YN.” He lifts his head to observe you before dropping it back down once more, losing energy instantly.

      “Then why did you do it?!” you roar, eyes wide and watching him with pure, uncontrollable rage.

      “Because,” he laughs bitterly, spitting out more blood before making eye-contact with you. His pupils are dilated wildly, almost completely blocking out the beautiful yellow that was once there. “You had it. Bang had it. His old brother, that bastard had it too.” He comes up to his elbows, leaning on one to run a bloody hand through his hair. “The power.”

      “What are you talking about?” you beg, knees beginning to grow weak. God, you were worn out, not only from the fight but also from the conversation, both wreaking havoc on your emotional stamina.

      “Water Stream, Rock Smashing Fist,” he wheezes out through crushed teeth. “You can take anybody’s power and use it against them.”

      “Garou,” your voice trembles again, “you already have that. Why do you want more? What else is there?”

      “You don’t know your own limits, YN! I don’t know mine either. Because we don’t have any.” You scoff brokenly, shaking your head and backing away.

      “Garou,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, “your search is only gonna bite you in the ass one day.” With a bitter smile, you back away and leave the alley, not wanting to look at his bruised face for another second.

                              ***

      Only a month had passed since you had beaten the shit out of him, and a lot had changed in that time. Garou had tracked you down to your own house, begging, pleading for something you don’t even remember. Maybe he wanted forgiveness, or comfort, or help and healing.

      That night, you provided it all. And he hasn’t left your side since.

      “YN! You’re home!” you smile at the white-haired man jumping up from your couch and rushing to greet you with a warm hug.

      “Yep, and you’re still here. What a shame.” You jab at him playfully and he sticks his tongue out at you before licking the side of your cheek with it. The reaction is instant.

      “Gross, dude!” you push away his face and scrub your own frantically, “What are you, a dog?”

      “I followed you around like a lovesick puppy for most of my childhood, what did you expect?” He nuzzles his nose against yours, pulling you closer via your hips and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Every touch he provides leaves a tingle you find pleasure in easily.

      “True,” you mumble, staring deeply into his eyes while he walks backwards, still holding you. You yelp as he falls back onto your couch, taking you with him. Giggling against his chest, you try to scramble out of his grip, but he squeezes the breath out of you to prevent an escape.

      “Don’t leave yet,” he whispers against your neck, “I want to cuddle you. I’ve missed you.” You sigh happily at the feeling and relax in his hold, slipping your legs around his own to straddle him before resting your head on his warm chest.

      “I was only gone for two days you know.”

      “I’ve been missing you for much longer than that.” You rest your chin on his chest and stare up at him while he looks down at you. Your arms reach up and into his hair, combing through the white strands gently while his eyes flutter closed.

      “I know,” you whisper. Your heart pains at the thought of losing him again, even after all the terrible things he has done. The truth was, however, that deep down he was still the boy who came into your grandfather’s dojo asking for revenge. He was still the boy who fell for you, and you were still the young girl who loved him at first sight. Even though he was kind of an asshole. “I missed you too,” you whisper hesitantly. Garou smiles with his eyes still closed, and he reaches down to brush his lips against your forehead tenderly. The soft caresses of his fingers up and down along your back contrast wonderfully with the firm muscles you’re lying on and running your hands over. Every divet of his begs to be memorized by you, so you listen in the silence of the room. One of Garou’s glowing, yellow eyes pop open, this time dilated from love rather than pain.

      “You’re not gonna become one of those annoying heroes, are you?” You laugh whole-heartedly and turn your ear down onto his chest, listening to the quick thumps of his heart.

      “I just might if I get to kick your ass again.”

Indebted and In Debt (Vampire Kenma x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

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

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

Word count: 3631

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Of course, he didn’t recognize you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Ow.

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

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

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

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

        And on the obvious supernatural fetish. 

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

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

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

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

        Those “fangs” had to be fake. 

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

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

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

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

        Centaurs. Genies. Unicorns.

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

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

        Vampires. There!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Definitely not a first for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Maybe you would escape this scot-free. 

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

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

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

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

        You were going fucking home. 

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

                                +++

        Blood. Air. 

        Blood. Sweet, sweet blood. 

        Thirsty. Hungry. 

        Dark. 

        Pain. 

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Escape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

        This was code. 

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

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

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

        Trapped. Stuck. Wrapped in something?

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

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

        Just a drop would be a blessing. 

        “Ku…”

        But he had to get out first. 

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

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

        “Kuro...Kuroo.”

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

        Footsteps echoed miles away, perking Kenma’s ears. 

        “Kuroo...Kuroo.”

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

        “Kuroo...please.”

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

        “Kuroo…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “NO!”

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

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

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

        He’d just… panicked.

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

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

                                +++

        “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Probably Akira and Kanna, worried out of their minds. 

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

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

        It wasn’t even female. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Here it comes.

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

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

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

        “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

        “What?”

Assassin AUs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your yandere works are IMMACULATE 😍 if you see me spam liking your works, no you didn't 🙈

Aww, thank you!!

and I didn’t see a thing👀🤐

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

(Supernatural/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

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

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

Word count: 5771

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

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

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

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

        “She’s gonna hurt herself.”

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

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

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

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

        “No kidding.”

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

                                ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “New teacher?” Her jaw drops at you.

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

        “No…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “I don’t know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Why would I?”

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

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

        “Maybe we could-”

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

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

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

                                ~~~

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

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

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

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

        “Really?”

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

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

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

        “Yep.” 

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

        “Welcome to-” Oh.

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

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

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

        “Thanks!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “From you? Hell yeah!”

                                ~~~

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

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

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

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

        “Bitch.”

        “Attention whore.”

        “What a slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        … Who were you to say no? 

                                ~~~

        You should have said no. 

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

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

        He was hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        And then you weren’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

        So you did. 

                                ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        You wonder- oh fuck it.

        “Where the hell am I?!”

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