Assassin AUs

Who Dunnit (Kylo Ren x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Someone left their panties in the control room after what must have been a night of fun and Hux is determined to find out who.

A/N: Small lil thing that I’ve had rolling around in the ol’ hat rack for a while. Hope you like it!

Word count: 643

        “What the hell is this?” Hux’s voice when he was angry was all-too familiar, but today there was an added element of pure abhorrence. 

        Curious, you glanced up from your holopad to whatever the general had screeched about only to widen your eyes at the sight. 

        Panties. 

        More specifically, the black lace panties Kylo had torn off you after last night’s mischievous “rendezvous” in the control room. 

        Fuck.         “Oh-” Hux turned his attention to you and maintained furious eye contact while one index finger continued to point at the pair of destroyed undergarments flung directly behind his main computer. “-Oh, my God, how disgusting!” you choked out, trying to avoid the burning of your cheeks. “Sir, I will take care of that right away for you.” 

        You rose from your chair and took two steps forward only to rethink your plan and grab two number two pencils, reaching for the panties and stabbing them ever so precariously. With pursed lips, you lifted them up at just the perfect height to make awkward eye contact with Hux over the torn waistband. 

        One lone eye twitched while the other was so wide you could almost see your panicking reflection in his cornea. “Burn them,” he hissed, “and never speak of this again.”

        “Y-yes sir,” you nodded, “of course, sir.” As fast and discreetly as you could, you speedwalked over to the doors that led into the hallway.

        “YN, wait!” Hux’s back was to you as you flinched and turned to face him.

        “Yes, sir?” 

        Fuck fuck fuck.

        “You hear any word of who might’ve done this, you bring it straight to me, understood?”

        Hallelujah.

        “Yes, sir.” Without another word, you dashed into the hallway, hightailing it as fast as you could run with your two arms precariously holding your own panties between a couple of pencils before you crashed into something solid.

        “Oof,” you coughed, bouncing back and shaking away the disorientation of the collision, only to meet eyes with the very culprit.

        “YN.” Kylo acknowledged your presence curtly as he had agreed to do for the past few months since your relationship had started. With his mask removed, you could almost see his eyes bug out of his brain when he noticed just what exactly you had been holding.

        “Is that…?”

        “Yep.” You nodded with nervous eyes. 

        “Yours?”

        “Yep.”

        “From yesterday?”

        “Mmhmm.”

        “Where did-”

        “The control room.” 

        “Fuck.” Kylo ran a hand through his hair and breathed out a sigh, eyes still locked on the panties you were currently stabbing. “Who-”

        “Hux.”

        “Damn.” He nodded and gestured to you. “Does he know they’re-”

        “No.”

        “Thank God.”

        “Yeah,” you scoffed and shook your head, trying to ignore the way even the sight of Kylo left you feeling. “Well, I better-”

        “Yes, of course.” Once more, he nodded, gesturing to the panties. “You… do that.”

        Awkward silence settled around the two of you as you watched the other over the outstretched pencils. Kylo’s eyes flickered with something more than you could decipher at such a moment while you squeezed your thighs together. 

        Finally, he made the first move to turn away and stepped aside to let you pass. 

        As you did so, a single hand snagged your hip to stop you in place before a pair of lips planted on the skin just above your collarbone. 

        “Same time tonight?” Kylo whispered, kissing the mark you had tried so hard to cover up. 

        “Yes,” you hummed, tilting your head to let his lips travel further up your already marked neck.

        “Same place?”

        “No!”

AN  EASY GUIDE TO BTS

JIN

KIM SEOKJIN

RM

KIM NAMJOON

SUGA

MIN YOONGI

JHOPE

JUNG HOSEOK

JIMIN

PARK JIMIN

V

KIM TAEHYUNG

JUNGKOOK

JEON JUNGKOOK

By @mimibtsghost​

The Deal (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: 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?

A/N: Fuck me, it’s five am, why am I still here. I’m tired af, but fuck it, I finally wrote 5k words. I hope y’all like it!

Word count: 5062

        “YN YLN.”

        “Here.”

        Like your previous two years at Nekoma, you expected your final semesters to pass quickly and be relatively painless.

        “Psst, hey Takahashi!” Sadly, your chemistry lab partner’s relentless pursuer made that expectation all but wishful thinking.

        “Kuroo’s trying to get into your pants again,” you relay the message to her and roll your eyes when she releases a high-pitched giggle. 

        Sakura Takahashi was the bubbly captain of the cheer squad. Every day, she awoke with sunshine and rainbows outside her window. Every night, she was cuddled to sleep by a pack of kittens and puppies. Her constant happiness killed your vibe, especially when she would skip into the classroom with a smile brighter than your future and proceed to beg you for yesterday’s homework. She was also gorgeous, with legs for days and endlessly-flowing black hair. You used this to your advantage whenever bullies came around; she was a great distraction. 

        “Oh, isn’t he just so hot!” Takahashi sighs dreamily, biting her lip before glancing over at the bedheaded Casanova on your other side. 

        Tetsurou Kuroo was the captain of the boys’ volleyball club. If something had two legs and walked, you bet your ass he’s put his dick in it. He was a player with a signature smirk to match, and the last target on his fuck-it list for high school was your airhead lab partner. 

        You, on the other hand, were the unlucky wall that sat between their daily sexual tension. No matter how many times you begged Mr. Suzuki to switch partners, desks, or even planets, he wouldn’t let you move. You guessed, in some ways, he was also against the inevitable screwing of the two lovebirds. 

        “We will have a pop quiz tomorrow.” The class groans exasperatedly and the teacher nods along, “Yes, yes, I know. You’re all so busy with your jobs and your overtime and your wives and kids- oh wait,” he narrows his eyes at the class. “Don’t be such whiners. Study what we’ve gone over this week and you’ll do fine. Class dismissed.”

        The bell rings like music to your ears, and you replace it with actual music in your ears, quickly snapping on your headphones and heading out for the day. One of the daily occurrences you’ve caught onto over the past few months is that Kuroo likes to flirt with Takahashi directly over your head. One time, he literally folded his arms on top of your head and leaned over to chat with her. 

        Kuroo was growing to be the bane of your high school existence. 

        Huffing a sigh, you scramble out of the class as fast as humanly possible, not wanting to hear even a lick of today’s banter. However, something seems different at the moment. Kuroo’s not stuck back in Mr. Suzuki’s room with his ass plopped on your desktop. Instead, he’s got a hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting you from a quick escape. 

        “What do you want?” you hiss, tugging yourself away and pulling your headphones down around your neck. He smirks at you and leans in closer to your face. 

        “I think you know exactly what I want.” Totally unphased, you blink at him once while pursing your lips. Suggestively, he waggles his eyebrows at you. 

        “Don’t you dare say it-”

        “Takahashi.”

        “Oh fuck me.”

        “Just give me a time and place, baby.” While he simpers at you, you can only muster a snarl in return. 

        “Don’t call me that.”

        “You got it, Kitten.”

        Scoffing, you turn to walk away, but a hand snags your wrist and spins you right back. Kuroo’s smug look falters at the sight of your furious glare. 

        “Oh, for God’s sake!” You yank your hand out of his grip. “What do you want?” you seethe through your teeth. 

        “Like I said before, I want Takahashi,” he shrugs. You shake your head at him. 

        “My God, you are such a douche.” 

        “Oh c’mon YN, please?” He pouts and folds his hands pleadingly with well-executed puppy-dog eyes. You wonder how many girls that’s worked on before. 

        “Why should I help you?” With a deadpan look, you fold your arms indignantly. 

        “Because I know you’re a 4.0 student,” your lips quirk at this, “and I also know you suck at chemistry.” The trump card widens your eyes and you waver for just a second.

        “Pshh, how do you know that?” Your recovery is about as smooth as sandpaper.

        “Did you forget that you almost burned Suzuki’s eyebrows off in front of the whole class?” Eye twitching at the memory, you give in. 

        “Fine, what do you want me to do?” 

        “I thought you’d never ask.”

                                ***

        “I think sodium needs to go in there.” 

        “Okay.” 

        It’s the first day of your deal, and while you didn’t believe Kuroo at first when he said Takahashi was a stickler, you guessed you understood it now. After all, you had never seen them go any farther than words. Not that you wanted to see anything more, because gross. 

        In the end, Kuroo wanted to woo her like the sixties, and the first idea on his agenda was a classic. 

        “All right, now add a drop of water,” you instruct, watching carefully to make sure she doesn’t implode the entire school. A sudden jab in your side makes you choke on nothing and you glare over at your partner in crime. 

        ‘Do it!’ he mouths, frantically waving at you to get a move on. Revenge is a priority to you, however, so you rear back and smack his arm with a glare. Satisfied at the awkward squawk that escapes his mouth, you swivel back to your lab monkey and brace for social discomfort.

        “So, uh, Takahashi, do you like flowers?” 

        “What?” She shifts her gaze from the liquid-filled beakers to your face and flinches at the sight of your stiff, forced smile. You’re baring your teeth like a chimpanzee preparing to die, but Takahashi takes this in another direction. She’s a birdbrain, remember?

        “Oh, YN, I’m sorry,” She smiles pityingly at you and pats your shoulder in what she believes is a comforting way. The sound of her acrylic nails scraping your uniform actually makes your skin crawl and you lean away from the touch, still smiling like a maniac. “I just don’t feel that way about you.” 

        A muffled cackle sounds from behind you while your face falls. “Oh,” you mutter, teeth gnawing against each other. “That’s not really what I meant-”

        “It’s just that I’m kind of into guys.” She surveys your expression for any sign of a breakdown, but the only thing she spots is your nostrils flaring. Chuckles are still rumbling in the desk beside you.

        “Yeah, Takahashi, that’s okay,” you emphasize with a nod and wide eyes. “Now what fucking flowers do you like?” 

        “Oh!” Like a child with toys, she is instantly distracted from the painful previous events. The bell rings while she taps her chin, and she lifts her bag over her shoulder while responding, “I quite like petunias!”

        While she exits the classroom, you spin in your seat to face Romeo. 

        “She likes petunias.” You’re practically foaming at the mouth, and Kuroo’s cheeks are burning from his front row seat to the show. 

        “Well thanks for that.” He snickers and you flip him the bird while gathering your things. “Oh, and YN?”

        “Hmm?” 

        He pushes in his chair before winking at you. “I would have paid to see that,” he whispers. 

        “Fucking perv!” 

                                ***

        Two more weeks have passed of you being Kuroo’s sidekick in Operation: Smash and Dash and he keeps half-assing his part. Either that or he’s a shit teacher. 

        “Oh, come on YN, you aren’t that stupid. Surely you know the formula for…” his voice blends with the crickets chirping outside of his window as you zone out. Takahashi still acts the same with him, you still sit and stew in the middle of the pair, and Kuroo keeps begging you to help him get her. Nothing has changed, so what was the point of even trying to continue-

        “YN!” Your teacher, “Mr. Kuroo” as the creep prefers to be called, snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Pay attention in class!” You lazily drag your eyes away from the moon and yawn in his direction. You’re laying flat on your stomach on his carpet and he sits across from you cross-legged with a finger incessantly tapping on your textbook.

        “This isn’t a class, and you’re a terrible teacher, Kuroo.” 

        “Mr. Kuroo to you, Kitten.” He winks and pushes his glasses up his face before running a hand through his rat’s nest. Scoffing, you roll over and stare at his ceiling, only to get patted on the nose with a ruler. 

        “Ow,” you grumble, rubbing the injured area. “You’re an abusive teacher too.” 

        “Only to bad students.” His words cause a palpable shift. The atmosphere of the room suddenly grows ten times more intense and you trace your fingers on the ground nervously. Ever so slowly, Kuroo places two hands on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. He leans over you, and even though he’s upside down, his smirk still manages to take your breath away. 

        “Are you a bad student, Kitten?” 

        Oh, so that’s how he gets all the girls. Interesting. 

        You scoff abruptly and push his face away while he releases a surprised “mfphm!” Ignoring the heat that has blossomed on every inch of your body, you sit back up and pivot to confront him. The textbook between you is no longer forgotten as you snatch it up and point to a random page while avoiding his gaze. 

        “I don’t understand this.”

        “I don’t understand you,” he grumbles under his breath, accepting the book and adjusting his glasses with a twitching jaw. 

        “Excuse me?” 

        “This problem’s easy,” he stares at you from above the rims, “I thought you were a good student?” 

        “I am smarter than you and your bloodline will ever be, dillweed.” With a huff, you cross your arms and avoid his sceptical gaze. “I just… don’t understand the question.” 

        “It’s simple chemistry!” 

        “Yeah, well I just don’t get it! I’m not familiar with this kind of chemistry….”

        Kuroo’s eyes twinkle at your admission and he scoots just a tad closer. “Then I’ll just have to teach you.”

                                ***

        “YN!” Kuroo whisper-yells your name during the middle of notes and you choose to ignore him. 

        “Psst, YN!” He’s louder this round, capturing more pairs of eyes than your own. Luckily, you both sit in the back of the class so the teacher can barely hear you. The feeling of Takahashi’s gaze urges you to continue the ruse, and you bite your lip while squinting at the marked-up white board. This must be how your mom feels before she turns her radio down so she can “see the road.” 

        Sadly, your effort in focusing diminishes in an instant when your carefree cohort brandishes his weapon of choice: a pencil. As he prepares to land a devastating blow to your side, you seize the offender, accidentally brushing his hand during the event, and snap it in two before setting it back on his desk calmly. 

        Kuroo gawks at you in your peripheral vision before lightly muttering “Rude!” 

        “Hehe, loser,” you snicker before sticking your tongue out at him. 

        “YLN!” Mr. Suzuki places his hands on his hips as he shakes his head at you. “Please stop distracting Kuroo and Takahashi!” 

        “Sorry sir!” you nervously respond, hurriedly grabbing your own pencil and returning to your paper. The words still haunt you, as you have always hated being scolded by others. As they repeat like a chorus in your head, you finally catch on one name. Wait, Takahashi? With a gulp, you barely tilt your head to get a glimpse of your lab partner. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are lit like an angered bonfire. 

        Woah, what’s up with her? You keep your gaze on her even as the bell chimes out, signalling the end of class. She seems unlike her usual self as she shoves her papers into her backpack before zipping it up and stomping out into the hall. Now that you think about it, she hasn’t asked for your homework in a while either…. I wonder if something happened-

        “YN, finally you can pay attention to me now!” Kuroo slams his hands down on your desk and leers over you. 

        “Wow, sounds like you’re getting a little needy,” you relax back into your chair and cross your arms. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.”

        “Neither did I.”

        “What?”

        “Anyways,” he waves his hands dismissivley, avoiding your eyes to take a seat at Takahashi’s desk, “I was thinking that since we already have to spend so much time together because you’re shit at school-”

        “It’s just chemistry!” He places a hand over your mouth to stop your vexed screech. 

        “-I was thinking,” he continues, “you should become our team manager so you don’t have to walk over to my house all the time. It’s kinda dangerous, don’t you think?” Like anybody would, you lick his hand in an effort to drive him away, but he raises his eyebrows back, quirking up a corner of his mouth.

        You sneer in disgust at his action before shoving his hand away. “Fucking perv.”

        “I prefer to think of it as sexy, but back to the less-fun topic. What do you think?” There’s something unfamiliar about his face; it seems almost… apprehensive in a way. Shaking away the thought, you tap your chin contemplatively at his proposal. 

        “I mean, I guess that’s a good idea,” his eyes glimmer at your words and his knee starts to bounce, “Plus my mom would like how safe it is. Sure, I guess I could do that,” you shrug at last and Kuroo’s face lights up. 

        “Sounds good,” his voice is surprisingly nonchalant compared to his body language, “I’ll introduce you to the coaches and get this show on the road.” 

        “Sounds good,” you parrot, grabbing your bag before you’re suddenly smacked with a memory. “Hey wait!” You capture Kuroo’s rather muscular bicep in your grasp to stop him from leaving. As he looks at you, his eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. “How are things going with Takahashi?”

        His face falls and he glances down at your hand, which you swiftly pull away from his arm like he burned you. 

        “Sorry,” you mutter, shifting from side to side on your feet, “it’s just that I haven’t seen you two talk in a while. Did something happen?” 

        Kuroo’s nose wrinkles before he plasters a smirk on his face, casually settling a hand on his hip. “Nothing you need to worry about. Although, now that I think about it, I could use some more advice.” You smile in relief and nod your head. Even though you had initially hated the pair, Kuroo was slowly becoming your friend, and you were glad nothing had deterred him from his goal. It was still a goal that repulsed you, sure, but you wanted to help him. You wanted to keep helping him. 

        “Of course, what’s up?”

        “What are some things that girls like to do on dates and stuff? You know, if you could try to think like a normal girl for a second.” Your jaw drops with a gasp while he bursts into a maniacal cackle, and you don’t hesitate to smack his chest harshly. 

        “You’re such a dick!”

        “And you’re painful, oww!” Smiling victoriously at the sight of him rubbing his stomach, you ignore his pout in favor of placing your chin in your hand. 

        “I don’t really know, I guess. I kind of don’t have experience…” you trail off when you remember who you’re talking to. Kuroo glances up at you confused before he processes your words and his mouth forms an “o.”

        “Aww, YN, am I gonna have to show you what a first date is like?” he simpers.

        “No! Shut up! Just buy her more petunias and you’ll be fine!” You try to escape the room as fast as possible, but Kuroo’s lanky body blocks the exit, arms and legs both spread out to cover the area. 

        “Oh c’mon, I was just kidding,” he chuckles dismissively. “Now that I think about it, what flowers do you like?”

        “Are there any flowers that you’re allergic to?” 

        “Ouch, gee YN you’re feisty today.” He waggles a finger at you. “I bet you’re more of a rose girl anyways. You seem like the type to….” You’ve mastered the skill of zoning out Kuroo’s incessant rambling as you observe him from multiple angles. You even squat down to see if you could wiggle out through his legs. Nope. Looks like it’s going to be a straight take down.

        You take a few steps back and kick your feet like a bull. It’s your lucky day too; Kuroo’s wearing his red volleyball jacket, and he makes a perfect target. His mouth is still chattering nonstop, but you can tell his face is growing more and more confused at your reaction. Finally, when you feel like you’ve revved up enough, you make your move. 

        “Chargeeee!” 

        Kuroo falls to the ground in the hallway with an “oof” and you land on top of him, one leg on either side of his torso. 

        “What the hell, Kitten?!” The nickname slips out in the heat of the moment but you don’t bother to correct him. Instead, you pat the side of his face and clamber off him, not hesitating to use his sturdy chest as a boost onto your feet. You're still towering over him, and Kuroo’s face flushes at a certain display you're giving him. You haven’t even noticed; you’re still pounding on your chest like a gorilla while hooting nonsensically to celebrate your triumph. 

        “Umm, YN?”

        “I’m pretty sure that’s what rugby is like.”

        “Hey Kitten.”

        “I would be amazing at that sport, let’s be honest.” You step away and off to the side, only to peer down curiously at a tomato-themed Kuroo whose eyes are completely unfocused. 

        “Umm, did I tackle you too hard?” You wave a hand in front of his face, but he doesn’t move a muscle. “Hey Rooster, did I break you?”

        “YN?”

        “Yeah?”

        “You do know you’re wearing a skirt, right?” You chuckle. 

        “Umm yeah, Kuroo, they’re kind of mandatory.” 

        “Oh good, I’m just making sure you’re fully aware of what just happened.” Your forehead creases as you tug him up onto his feet. 

        “What do you mean? I just took you out like a pro-footballer, what are you talking about?” 

        “Nothing, Kitten,” he sniggers, ruffling your hair before you bat his hand away. “I’ll talk to the coaches about letting you manage, okay?”

        “Okay,” you nod, still confused, “just be sure to get checked for a concussion too. You’re acting weird.”

        “Aye aye, captain.” He mockingly salutes with a smug smile before walking away. Those words, however, they were… familiar. 

        Oh shit. You gasp in horror. “You saw my Spongebob underwear?!”

        “Aww, don’t be one of those girls, YN,” he calls out, discreetly speeding up his strides, “They’re called panties.”

        “You sick fuck!”

                                ***

        You never realized how often Kuroo practiced until you became the volleyball manager. It was every night, and more often than not, you got tired just watching them. 

        “Five more laps, boys!” 

        However, you did have to admit Kuroo was noticeably different during these times. He was less of a womanizer and more of a leader, and you couldn’t help but wonder if any girls he had been with had seen this side of him. In this way, he seemed more redeemable, more worth knowing. 

        “YN, can you grab us some waters?” Just as whiny, though. 

        You were still attempting to get used to the feeling of being called upon like a waitress every two minutes. The sweaty boys asked for this and that, and you missed the days when you had first met them. Weeks ago, they used to fall at your feet and offer to do everything for you. It felt good to be the center of attention, although apparently Kuroo gave them a stern talking to at some point, and now they don’t even dare to speak to you. Shame. 

        “Hey, Kitten,” the captain jogged over to you, slowly wiping the sweat off his face with a towel you instinctively tossed him the minute he approached. “We’re finished up now, are you ready to go?”

        “Oh, sorry Tetsu, I guess I forgot to tell you,” you wave away his offer and smile apologetically, “I’m actually going out with someone tonight, so we can take the night off chemistry. You’re off the hook for the day.” Honestly, you expected him to be pleased. He seemed to get more frustrated with you recently, even though you were understanding more and more of the topics in the textbook. But his reaction was… explosive, to say the least. 

        “What?! Who the fuck asked you out?! Who?!” With narrowed eyes, he scrutinized your face with folded, bulky arms. You flinch at his sudden outburst, and so does the rest of the team. Throwing a reassuring smile their way, you pull Kuroo over into an emptier corner of the gym to discuss the matter privately.

        “Hey, crazy, calm it. It’s not a date date, it’s just a hang out,” you shrug.

        “With who?” he growls. 

        You raise a brow at the act before rolling your eyes. “My God, Tetsurou, I’m just going to hang out with Takahashi! She said she wanted to talk about something-”

        “No!” He instantly grabs you by your shoulders at the words. “Don’t go. You can’t talk to her.” 

        “Why not?” His overreactions are concerning you, and you slowly peel off his grip before asking, “Did something happen between you two?”

        “No! Never!”

        “Never? Do you still need help?”

        “No!” He exclaims once more and you give him a look that tells him to shut his piehole just a bit. With a huff, he nods in understanding and lowers his tone. “No, I don’t really need your help anymore. Not with her.”

        “Oh,” your face falls and you bite your lip, “So does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?”

        “No!”

        “Is that your favorite word?”

        “N-” he cuts himself off in a scoff before shaking his head at you. “No,” he snickers, “it’s not, Kitten. Just, be careful with Takahashi, all right?”

        “Okay dad.” You roll your eyes.

        “It’s Daddy to you, Kitten.”

        “Shut up, you perv!” You smack his chest with a giggle and he chuckles along with you. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you huff at the time and murmur, “Hey, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods with a solemn smile.

        “All right, Kitten-”

        “YN.”

        “-Kitten, be careful.” For the first time in your life, you see Kuroo hug someone. And it’s you. His slim but powerful arms wrap around your waist and he tugs you into his warm, sweaty chest, ducking his head into your neck and sniffing your hair. You would say it’s weird, but you regrettably do the same. 

        “Ok, Tetsu, I gotta be honest. I like this, but you smell.” Your phone buzzes in your back pocket just as he pulls away with a cackle. Smiling at him, you grab it and see Takahashi’s name on the front. 

        “Hello?” you answer, stepping away from him with one finger held up as you wait for a response. 

        “You’re late, so I guess I’ll just have to skip out on the whole fake hang out thing.”

        “Takahashi? Are you okay?”

        “I’m perfectly fine, YN,” her voice is lower than normal, the bubbly, cheery tone is completely nonexistent. “I just wanted you to know that Kuroo and I slept together, so you should probably stop trying to flirt with him from now on.”

        Your face falls at her words, and Kuroo mouths a concerned question at you. You don’t dare to decipher it; instead, you turn away and face the wall. 

        “Is that right?” you mutter, your own tone lifeless. 

        “You better believe it sweetheart, so just give up. We’re going to become a couple soon, just you watch. Especially at the assembly tomorrow, when we walk together on the stage.” 

        “Oh yeah?”

        “Yep, and those loving looks he gave you during class? Newsflash, YN, those were for me, you were just in the way-” You hang up with pursed lips and peel your phone away from your ear, staring at it blankly. 

        “Kitten, are you okay?” 

        Your chest feels empty, and your heartbeat slows in your upset. 

        “YN?”

        “How long?” You turn around and drag your eyes up your form to face him. 

        “Excuse me?” Kuroo steps closer and you let him, but he doesn’t move to touch you.

        “How long have you been leading me on?”

        “I don’t-”

        “How long have you been sleeping with Takahashi?” You felt like you just got cheated on, even though you had offered earlier to help him with her. You guessed, in some strange way, you hoped it was never really her you were helping him woo. 

        You were wrong.

        Kuroo’s eyes widen at your question, but he quickly tames himself, taking a deep breath and licking his lips. 

        “It was just one time.” God, it was true. “Before I asked for your help.”

        “Wait, what?” You stumble back a step and stare up at him perplexedly. 

        “I thought,” he sighs once more, “I thought that if I asked for your help and hanged around you enough that she would get the gist and leave me alone like the others. But she didn’t. She just kept calling me.”

        “So… you used me?” You were hurt, but in a whole different way now. Your heart stuttered at his confession, but now it panged with remorse. 

        “At first, yeah,” he nods, approaching you once more before looking into your eyes deeply. “But then, I guess at some point I just,” he takes one more deep breath to prepare himself for something, “I guess I just fell in love with you.” 

        Slapping your palm against your forehead, you scoff, “This is fucked up, Kuroo.”

        “I know,” he nods in agreement. Against your better judgement, you pocket your phone and give him one last hug. The breath in his lungs forces its way out of him and you pull away before he can return it. 

        “I need time to think, okay?”

        Shakily, he backs away and allows you the room to leave. “Okay.” 

        The doors whoosh closed after you exit and make your way home alone. Inside the darkened, locked up gym, Kuroo slowly picks up the stray volleyballs, not hesitating to hurl them at the wood panelling with loud grunts of fury while he finally takes out his frustration. After he runs out of ammo and his arm grows tired, he runs a hand through his wild tufts. 

        “Fucking shit. What am I gonna do, Kitten?”

                                ***

        The assembly was loud and cheerful. Nobody around you knew what went down inside that gym just a single day earlier. In the crowd of third years you were corralled in, you occasionally caught glimpses of the other volleyball boys your age, but no Kuroo. He was supposed to announce their victory, and their succession to state today. And the one to walk him up the stage was no other than Takahashi. 

        You’re dragged out of your self-deprecating, Rooster-filled thoughts by the sound of the principal clearing his throat in the microphone. It causes a loud whine that pierces your’s and everyone else’s eardrums, but you don’t have enough will to gasp and whimper like they do. Instead, your eyes lock on the pairs of people who have just arrived. One cheerleader to one sport captain, and at the end of the line is Kuroo, who is snarling and leaning away from Takahashi attached to his hip.

        The sight makes your lips twitch, and your gaze seems to have an effect on him, because his head instantly whips around in search of something, only to lock on you as he smiles softly. You only nod back and take your seat in the bleachers along with the other third years. 

        Time passes slowly as you wait and wait for the assembly to end. You almost consider ditching just as Kuroo’s turn comes up, but his actions stop you. As soon as he strides up the stairs to the stage, he wriggles his arm out and away from Takahashi. Then, he plucks the microphone out of the flabbergasted principal’s hand and taps it twice. 

        “This thing’s on, right?” The principal nods, completely discombobulated by your Rooster. 

        “Sweet, okay. YN!” His eyes search the crowd of grouped third years as your name echoes around the gym. They brighten when he spots you once more and he swings around to face you. While you want to seem calm and collected, the number of eyes now locked on you leaves you a blushing mess. 

        “Hey Kitten,” he waggles his eyebrows cheekily while holding out his hand, “Will you be my girlfriend?” The crowd falls to a hush and an uncontrollable smile takes over your face. 

        “Well?” He moves his finger in a “come hither” motion with a wink, and it has you coming down the steps of the stands in a trance-like state, pushing past your fellow classmates and occasionally mumbling apologies. With a hop, you land on the gym floor and approach him as he does the same for you. 

        “What do I get out of it?” you ask with a smugly raised brow. Kuroo grins back at you deviously. 

        “I suppose I could help you with your chemistry homework,” he steps closer and leans into your face. “You know, ‘cause you suck at it.” You can’t help but snort and bite your lip. Then you whisper three words and pull him in for a kiss that has the crowd cheering. 

        “It’s a deal.”

Story Time (Ushijima x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: 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.

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna say it now: Ushiwaka would be a big softie for his s/o. There, I said it. Anyways, he’s a lil OOC in this fic, but suck it up bc he’s adorable… well, at least to me, he is. Enjoy! 

Word count: 3344

        The rain drops on the window were having a race, and droplet number three was winning. You, the referee of this epic face off, sat in class quite boredly, barely comprehending the teacher’s droning on about a new project. You were going to have a partner and a syllabus, so there was no reason for you to listen that intensely. Your neck was sore from being held in it’s turned position for such a stretch of time, and so was the hand that held your chin, but you couldn’t care less. A tune popped into your head, and while humming slightly you began to bounce your knee to the beat as well. 

        “That song is super old, you know,” the redhead who sat beside you piped up, “try singing a newer one, like ‘Filter.’” 

        “Tendou, is there something you and YN would like to share with the class?” the teacher announced, giving your desk mate a pointed look. 

        “Sorry, miss, I was just suggesting YN change her radio station. The song she was on wasn’t really my style,” he teasingly remarked. A couple of students chuckled at the facial expressions the class clown and the teacher exchanged, but you were just glad the attention was once more off you. Finally, the teacher backed down and returned to the list she was reading aloud, and Tendou gave you a victorious smirk. 

        “’Serendipity’ is not that old,” you whispered to him while keeping your eyes on the front of the class. 

        The redhead raised his brow in return, opening his mouth to counter, “You know it's from three years ago, right. They’ve made plenty of new-”

        “YN.” The teacher’s call instantly grabbed your attention, and you looked up at her in fear of a scolding. “You’ll be partners with Ushijima.” The statement startled you, until you remembered oh crap, there’s a new project. Dark green eyes found yours from across the room, and you blushed before glancing away. Your desk mate beside you had noticed, however, and let out a small hum with a devious smirk before moving to join his own partner. 

        Tendou’s intimidating teammate sauntered over to your desk, completely dismissing the lack of personal space and invading your precious bubble. He didn’t smile at you, but he never smiled, so that was to be expected. Ushijima was known as a terrifyingly strong, but equally handsome, man, and with that information, you received the same amount of pitying looks as you did jealous. 

        Ignoring the eyes on you, you watched in your peripheral vision as Ushijima pulled up a chair right next to your desk and crashed down into it. His lumbering body wasn’t as graceful as it seemed on television, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a mental rabbit hole at the thought of him, or more specifically, his volleyball team, and the games you had seen them play on local sports stations. There was always one player your eyes never strayed from, but to be fair, the platinum blond setter was highly attractive. 

        You were drawn from your thoughts by a throat clearing at your side. This time, the man’s spine-chilling presence was too close to bear, so you scooched your own seat away slightly, only to cringe at the loud screech it made against the floor. A look flashed in Ushijima’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for you to identify, especially as you chuckled nervously at your own blunder. Finally, he gruffly spoke up. “I think we should read books to the local elementary school.”

        Silence fell over you. Yep, that was definitely the last thing you expected to hear from the stone-faced ace. “W-we should what?” you asked incredulously.

        “For our ‘Give Back to the Community’ project. I think we should read to elementary schoolers.” Oh, so that’s what the assignment was about. However, your fellow third year’s suggestion was just as jaw-dropping as when you first heard it. To make sure he was serious, you inspected his dark orbs, only to find they were just as indifferent as when he first approached you. Well, no point in arguing with him now, you thought, instantly adhering to his admittedly good plan. In any case, you already had a younger cousin who attended that school, and would love to see her again. 

         “I think that’s a great idea,” you declared while flashing him a small smile. “What kind of books were you thinking?”

                                ~~~

        Walking through the halls, you glanced back down at the note you had for Ushijima. It was a reminder he had wanted you to make for both of you, along with a time and place of when you would read at the elementary school. Last night you had contacted its principal and had gotten the go ahead for your project. Now where is that brute, you thought as you searched for his olive-brown hair. At first, you thought it would have been easy given his hulking form. But now, after trying to hunt him down for at least twenty minutes, you were starting to grow agitated. 

        “Hey YN, looking for someone?” A voice sounded behind you. Turning around at its familiarity, you expected to also see your partner, only to flush at the sight of your crush. Tendou smirked at your red face, but he also appeared disappointed. You didn’t notice a thing, though, as your eyes hadn’t strayed once from Semi. The blond looked at you almost unimpressed, and you subconsciously wondered if there was something on your face, or if your hair had been mussed up. 

        “Y-yeah, umm,” you cleared your throat at the stutter. “Have you seen Ushiwaka anywhere? I have our project time for him.” 

        Tendou smiled at something, or someone behind you, and kept his mouth shut when a deep, stiff voice spoke, “Hello YN.” Whipping around, you beamed victoriously at the sight. The action must have blinded the ace player, because he looked away directly after. 

        Shoving the note into Ushijima’s hands, you informed him, “We got the appointment on Friday at the elementary school closest to here. I already spoke with our teacher, and she gave us permission to miss school for it, thank God. It’s around lunch, so we’ll have to leave a little before that time.” Your eyes shined with pride at what you had already done for the project, and you talked almost excitedly. You had always wanted to work with children, so you adored Ushijima’s idea. 

        “Sounds great, I’ll see you then.” 

        “Okay, see you guys around.” Waving as you walked away, you turned back and held your cold hands to your cheeks. While you had only ever truly spoken to Semi once, it was still just as nerve-wracking to speak with him directly behind you. 

        As you left down the hall, you failed to notice the three pairs of eyes on you: one indifferent, one cocky, and one… abnormally bright.

                                ~~~

        Sitting in one of two main rocking chairs of the school’s library, you were even more nervous than usual when Ushijima approached you, arriving right on time while you had chosen to roll in twenty minutes ahead of schedule. The teachers you had talked to said they would release their students at 12:30 to the library, giving the pair of you thirty minutes to choose a story and hope it would keep their attention. 

        “Hey,” you greeted your project partner, observing as he took the seat next to you. 

        “Hello,” he responded bluntly, sitting uncomfortably stiff in his chair as it began to rock on its own. The conversation seemed to have hit a dead end; that is, until you remembered something. 

        “Oh, what fairy tale did you want to read to the kids?” you asked him, standing up and approaching the section of the library evidently labeled “Fables.” While waiting for his response, you chose to busy yourself by checking out the many options available on the shelves. 

        “Preferably a calm one. Maybe… without princesses?” For the first time in your whole life, Ushijima sounded unsure of himself, almost as if fairy tales were unknown territory to him.

        You grew confused. “Well then, what’s your favorite one from when you were a kid?”

        “I never really read fairy tales as a child. Though I do remember hearing about one that does pique my interest.” You stopped and stared at your partner in bewilderment at the first half of his statement, and a frown stole the place of your smile at the confession. Who’s never read fairy tales as a kid? What a sad childhood that must have been, you thought to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. 

        “I’m so sorry, but fairy tales are great, you should read some when you have the chance! Some are a little more sinister than others if you read from certain authors, l-like Cinderella! In the original, the stepsisters like cut off parts of their own feet, but-,” you cut yourself off, surprised at your own word vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” Your jaw almost dropped when Ushijima, the Ushijima, brandished you a small hint of a smile, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. 

        “It’s okay, I like hearing about them. Maybe not those kinds of scenes but…” his deep voice trailed off and he gestured for you to continue. Quickly, you changed the subject and looked away to avoid making contact with his sharp, olive-colored orbs. You knew that if you had kept staring, a blush would’ve been inevitable. 

        “Umm, okay, that’s cool,” you mumbled out. “Anyways, you were saying one piqued your interest. Which one?”

        His eyes seemed to glimmer at the mention of his evidently beguiling fable, and he announced, “‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ That’s the one that has always interested me. Although I hear there are many different versions of this one, so I fear I might not be thinking of the right story for the kids. What do you think?”

        You shake your head and say, “No, no, no. That is a good one, but what happened in the version your thinking of that's got you so interested in it?”

        “Well, in the one I’ve heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood-” Ushijima is cut off by the sudden chatter of young children entering the room. Eyes widening in surprise, you check the time, only to be confused when you realize that they are a few minutes early. A teacher stumbles over to Ushijima and hurriedly explains that the kids had finished their music class ahead of schedule, so the reading would need to start prematurely.

        Hastily, you wrack your mind for the author’s name of the age-appropriate Little Red Riding Hood story and “Aha” victoriously as your eyes spot the book you were looking for. Retrieving it from the shelf, you strut over to your project partner with the slim picture book in hand, motioning for him to join you in front of the twenty-something group of elementary schoolers in your two given rocking chairs. 

        You give him a small, reassuring smile before you announce, “Hey kids, my name is YN YLN and this is Wakatoshi Ushijima and today we will be reading ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ to you guys!” Attempting to keep your voice cheerful, you are relieved when the children respond positively instead of groaning like you had expected. Spotting your little cousin in the front row of the class, you return her excited wave softly and accompany it with a large grin. Winking at Ushijima, you don’t have time to question your cheeky action before you hand him the book, allowing him to start reading his coveted fairy tale. 

                                ~~~

        As more time passes, you start to realize Ushijima is growing more and more confused with his fable. After you close the book with the classic “Happy Ever After,” you throw him a confused smile as the class of children shout a loud, rambunctious “Thank you!” Before you can question him, however, your younger cousin approaches and gives you a large hug.

        “N/N, that was so fun! I wish you would read to our class more! Can you please read to our class more?” Her voice began to transition from begging to whining, and you started to panic internally while wondering how to handle the situation. After all, you had only babysat her once before, and that night, you had done just about anything to get her to stop crying. 

        You were fearing the same result when, thankfully, her teacher came to the rescue, telling her that she needed to rejoin the class. Grumbling under her breath, your cousin gave you one last hug while glancing at Ushijima, who had been awkwardly watching the encounter from his chair. Looking away with fear, your cousin hesitantly whispered, “N/N, your boyfriend is scary.” Your cousin’s teacher was quick to usher her out of the library before you could explain that, no, the scary man was not your boyfriend, and please don’t tell the rest of the family as they will flip.

        Sighing in exasperation, you whip around and give Ushijima a shy smile and laugh before saying, “Sorry about her, she just assumed, I’ll tell her later. If she doesn’t forget by then.”

        Ushijima ignores your lame joke while responding, “That’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Hearing those words, you flush slightly and wonder if he meant it how it sounded. 

        Rapidly changing the subject, you asked him why he seemed so confused while reading the ‘Red Riding Hood’ fairy tale.

        “Well,” he admitted, “In the one I’ve always heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood fall in love, and the wolf is actually just a kind werewolf who looks scary most of the time. And Little Red Riding Hood isn’t a little girl, but an adult just like him, who ignores his flaws….” Ushijima trails off and he looks away as he begins to blush as well. Your eyebrows raise softly at his unexpectedly sheepish admission, and you smile widely. 

        “You know, if you wanted a story like that, we could always read ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ That one’s pretty much on the track you’re looking for,” You tell him, grin not stopping for an instant. 

        “We?” he asks gently and you almost choke on the oxygen in your lungs. 

        “You! You! I meant you. You could always… read it on your own, not we.” You fail to miss the way the smug glimmer in his eyes falls, and you smirk while lightly suggesting, “Unless you do want us to read it?” 

        With that, Ushijima seems to gain his confidence back, only for it to drop once more when he mutters, “I couldn’t do that. We shouldn’t do that.”

        Bewildered by his sudden change in attitude towards you, you quickly question, “Why?”

        “Because.”

        “Because?”

        “Because I’ve seen you around Semi, and I… I don’t want to ruin whatever you guys may have,” Ushijima admits, his hands subconsciously curling into fists. While watching this, your eyes widen in realization and you wonder to yourself, Am I really that obvious? Shaking away the thought, you quickly grab the man’s hand and unfurl it, holding it in both of yours while looking him in the eyes.

        “I’ll admit, before today, I did like Semi, but for appearances only! I’ve never even talked to him. Well, only once, but that was because he helped me pick up my books when I dropped them, tripping over God knows what-,” you cut off your own rambling once again, and wonder to yourself why you do that so often, especially in his presence. “Either way, my crush on him is purely visual, if that’s what you want to call it. Now... well, I’m really hoping we get a chance to read ‘Beauty and the Beast’ together. Or at least watch the movie…?” you trail off suggestively, timidly awaiting his response. 

        Ushijima is silent for a moment, and you begin to lose your confidence, loosening your grip on his hand, but he quickly grasps both of yours once more in an instant. 

        “I’d like that. A lot.”

                                ~~~

        Glancing at the clock on the gym wall, you groan and look back to the court while whining, “Wakatoshi, come on. We’re gonna miss the movie.” You bounce up and down on your toes impatiently, watching your boyfriend once again spike the ball so hard into the floor on the other side of the court that it bounces up and lands in the stands. At least I don’t flinch at the sound anymore, you thought, watching Goshiki grumble under his breath before racing up the stairs to retrieve yet another volleyball. 

        “Sorry, babe, just one more I promise,” the ace replies distractedly.  

        “Babe, huh?” Tendou asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys must be getting serious. Who’d have thought Mr. Scary, Blank-Face Man would get a girlfriend, and call her ‘babe’ nonetheless!” The redhead laughs to himself loudly and cheekily elbows Shirabu in the side, who responds by shooing his hands away in irritation.

        Ignoring his teammate’s taunts, Ushijima tosses up the ball again to Semi, who sets it perfectly in place for his favorite spike. The ball hits the other half of the court so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t pop from the pressure. Following as it travels once more into the public seating on the second level of the gym, your amazed expression drops in exchange for amusement. Everyone witnesses as it rebounds back down onto the court as a result of the ball hitting a chair. 

        “Thank God,” Goshiki mutters, dropping the first ball he got into the basket and picking up the second one just as it rolled over to him. “I am so tired of this job,” he tells you, and you giggle at his worn out expression. 

        Noticing this, Ushijima jogs over to you and swiftly kisses your cheek, giving a pointed look to the first year before packing up his gear. You roll your eyes at his possessive action and decide to help the boys clean up while waiting for your boyfriend. Just as you reach for a stray volleyball, another hand plucks it away. You glance up and smile politely at Semi while jokingly claiming, “That one was mine, you know.” 

        The blonde third year blushes at your quip, chuckling slightly before replying, “Sorry, I didn’t know you claimed it. You still want it?” He teasingly holds it out to you, but the ball is stolen out of his grip by one stronger, larger hand. 

        Looking up slowly, Semi shivers at the glare he receives from Ushijima who smoothly throws the ball into the basket behind his teammate. “Actually, it was mine.” 

        Scoffing and smirking at your boyfriend’s jealous tone, you grab his now empty hand and say, “Don’t get all pissy, let’s just go before we miss the whole movie.” As the two of you walk through the gym doors, you look over to see Ushijima glaring back at his poor teammate, who keeps his wide, brown orbs locked on the ground to avoid the ace’s wrathful gaze. You roll your eyes once more before pulling his face toward yours. The intimate act successfully captures his attention, and you playfully whisper, “You’re really hot when you’re mad. I like it.”

        Raising his brows, Ushijima’s deep voice teased, “Oh really? Well then maybe we should skip the movie altogether.” 

        You smile flirtatiously at him while biting your lip. “I like that idea. Maybe we could just talk all night long.” 

        “Sounds good, because I’m still confused as to why the little girl didn’t notice her grandmother was actually a wolf. Was she nearsighted?” You groan at his innocent change of the subject.

        “Are you serious? I’ve told you a thousand times, she was just a little girl who didn’t notice for the sake of the story!” 

        “I would’ve noticed if my grandmother was a wolf.”

        “I know, I know, ‘cause nothing flies past you, except for every single joke ever.”

        “Impossible… jokes do not fly.” 

        Your whine of exasperation fades into the night as the two of you walk home to discuss fairy tales. 

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

*GIF not mine*

Summary: 

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

Enter: You.

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

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

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

Word count: 4328

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

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

Decidedly, you had three hours left. 

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

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

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

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

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

The candle had finally gone out. 

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

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

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

Spider.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet, at least.”

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

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

Or worse—a member of the royal family. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t. He never would. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches, seeming somewhat interested, as you struggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

A chime, maybe.

Or a knell. 

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

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

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

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

And you can’t seem to look away. 

No. 

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

A fourth chime, earsplitting. 

They buckle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A breath away from becoming nothing. 

So what stopped it?

Even more—what started it?

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

You went still. 

Heat. 

Heat in the library. 

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

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

Dear God. 

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

Terribly heady.

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

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

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

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

That was just not possible. 

Impossible. 

Maybe. 

“YN!” 

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

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

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

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

You knew what she saw. 

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

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

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

Fresh meat. 

Dead meat. 

And you hadn’t even done anything. 

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

Or, rather, for a quick recovery. 

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

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

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

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

You tense at her actions, mind falling blank. 

No. He couldn’t be. 

Your Highness? Your Highness?

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

Waiting.

He is.

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Creel Dynasty.

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

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

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

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

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

You watch them as they hesitate in front of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No crying. 

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

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

You flinch. 

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

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

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

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

A seasoned backhand. Was there anything worse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tears don’t stop for hours.

Masterlist    Next

Hey!! If it’s not to much trouble could you please add me to the reborn tag list?

Hello! It’s never too much trouble, my dude! I’m glad ur liking the series and you’ll def be tagged when the new chapter comes out!💜

hey okay so first of all i just wanted to tell you how much i adore your writing ahhh its so good omg!! also i know that you put the reborn (?i think) fic on pause but i just wanted to ask if you could put me on the taglist? bc its so good and i wanna know once you post again hehe

Aksjfkfj Thank you so much!! I’m glad u like my writing🥺🥺💜💜 I’ll for sure put you on the tag list! I’m glad you’re liking it so far🥰

You Use the Safeword (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFS not mine*

Kuroo and Kageyama Version

A/N: I’ve got like a million ideas for these, so just be prepared. (PS: someone needs to tell the star wars writers to get some yandere kylo ren out here😤 like yall im thirsty)

Word count: 1269

Bokuto Koutarou:

He’s the type to spring to the other side of the room the second he hears the word “Chumbawumba” fall from your lips. 

It’s a mewl and whimper all wrapped in one that swiftly and harshly rip his heart in two. 

While you crush a pillow against your chest to try and assuage the pain, a wave of horror dawns on Bokuto’s face. He’s watching every move you make to ensure you’re still actually breathing just as the first tear slips. 

Soon, it’s not alone as he starts bawling, his whimpers and sniffles leaving his face a damp, mucus-drenched nightmare.

“Oh Bo...”

“YN I HURT YOU!” 

You could physically watch as that fact ate him up from the inside out. First, he crumpled to his knees, and then he hugged them to his chest. Muffled sobs echoed around the room louder than your cries of pleasure ever had, leaving you to wallow in pity as your boyfriend beat himself up. 

“Bo, I’m okay, I promise.”

It’s a struggle at first, but you still attempt to ease yourself off the bed. Bokuto’s ears perk and his head raises but the second he spots you reaching out for him he springs to his feet.

“NO!” Tears start falling even faster when he notices how you flinched at his cry.

“Please, YN,” he continues, voice lowered, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Pursing your lips, you try to take another step but he presses himself harder against the door, hand scrambling for the knob. Just as he finds it, you pounce on him, snatching his wrist and yanking it towards you.

“YN wait-”

“Shut up,” you huff out, gripping him even tighter when he starts twisting and tugging his arm. Without missing a beat, you yank the hand towards your body and press it just over your heart.

His fingers are cold against your hot, sticky skin, but that doesn’t stop you as you watch his expression, waiting for a reaction. 

“...Why?”

“Because Bo,” you roll your eyes and press both hands over his own, “my heart is still yours, no matter how many times you get a little rough in bed.”

He’s silent as he studies your hands on his, even more so when he raises his other to wipe the saltiness from his cheeks. 

“I... I never wanted to hurt you, YN. Not in a million years.”

“I know, babe. And that’s what the safeword is for,” you gesture back to the bed. “Remember? We came up with it so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt me, and that’s all that was--an accident.”

He sniffles once more before nodding. “Okay.” The hand on his own cheek transferred to yours with a hesitancy you had never felt before. When his fingertips met your skin, he sighed in relief, cupping the side of your face and running a thumb just over the rosy apple of your cheek.

You smile and press a kiss into his palm. “All right, how about we watch a movie instead?”

“I don’t think-”

“If you go out and get my favorite candy, I might just give you forgiveness cuddles.” His eyes glowed with anticipation. 

As always, Bokuto was only willing to accept your kindness by working for it; he never thought he deserved it otherwise. That’s why the second you suggested the offer, he zipped out of the room in only his boxers and T-shirt.

“I’LL GET YOU ALL THE BOXES, BABY, JUST YOU WAIT!”

“Bo, don’t forget-”

“SHIT, MY SHOES!”

Tsukishima Kei: 

He knows it before you even whisper “ginger shrimp.”

Your lips formed into an “o,” but not a good “o.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen before he turns away, climbing off you and reaching for his glasses. They clatter to the floor and he leans down to grab them, trembling hands unfolding the lenses and pushing them up his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he grunts. His voice is hoarse and quiet; less scathing than you had ever heard it. Even in a moment like this, you wish you could see his face but his back is turned toward you completely. 

“Tsukki...”

“I’m going to... go get you an aspirin and a glass of water. E-excuse me.” 

Shock encompasses your face the second you hear your boyfriend--your overly-critical, always-sarcastic boyfriend--stutter for what must have been the first time in his life. 

You don’t bother to point it out though because the door is already closing behind him the minute you shake yourself out of the daze. 

His bedroom is silent, but not the comfortable silence you and him are both used to. It’s painful and awkward and worries you about whether Tsukishima will even bother talking to you for a while. 

You can’t even hear a sound in the rest of the house because the atmosphere is so dark and heavy. A lump forms in your throat and you glance at the clock. 

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes have passed since he said he would leave to get you a painkiller. It didn’t even hurt anymore at this point, and truly what surprised you the most was how hard Tsukishima took it on himself. 

You decided to go investigate after another five minutes ticked by. 

The hardwood floor left a flood of chills racing up your body as you tiptoed through his room and out into the hallway. With only his thin sheets to keep you covered, you sneaked down the stairs and padded into the kitchen.

No luck.

His white blanket dragged along the floor as you traveled past the small opening into the living room, finally spotting your boyfriend.

Long fingers tangled into blond hair as his back curled over, elbows stuck on his knees while he cradled his head. 

You chose to stay silent and not disturb him, instead making your way over and plopping onto the cushion next to him on the sofa. He raised from his position and turned to you, eyes snapping open. 

“Sorry, I didn’t get your-”

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you twisted your body to trap him in a hug. The sheet slipped down your body but you didn’t bother adjusting it, not when there were more serious matters to handle. 

“YN...”

“Shut up,” you dug a hand into the nape of his neck, shoving his face into your collarbone. “I’m fine, you doofus. You didn’t kill me; I’m not as fragile as you think.”

You felt his jaw clench against your chest before he huffed, not-so reluctantly returning the hug with his arms around your waist. 

The living room was silent for a moment, just you and Tsukishima soaking up each other’s presence in the early midday hours with only the birds outside to keep you company. His skin was warm and bare against yours, but, unsurprisingly, his fingers were colder than ice. 

“I told you that was a bad idea, you know.” And there it is. 

At least it was nice while it lasted. 

Tsukishima pulled away and glanced your body up and down in what he must’ve thought was a discreet way. 

“It sounded like fun, you know. At least I thought you would’ve liked it.”

He set his jaw. “If it meant you never getting hurt again, I’d say we should stick to vanilla from now on.”

“Aww, but where’s the fun in that?”

Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Yandere Haikyuu Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Ushijima and Oikawa Version

Sugawara and Kuroo Version

Bokuto, Kageyama, and Kenma Version

A/N: pfft so somebody requested this for hinata like t w o y e a r s ago… hehe. ANyways, love me some yandere haikyuu boys. Kinda loving tendou’s, so I hope y’all like it. Enjoy!

Word count: 2953

Tendou Satori:

“Darling, surely we’re not doing this now?”

“You know, I don’t think I like this game, YN. I suggest you end this before you cross a line you can’t come back from.”

You gulped but continued the search, digging through drawers and cupboards to find anything resembling a key. Tendou’s voice drawled from where you’d trapped him in the bathroom. 

“Taking advantage of a man while he’s got his pants down—not cool, YN.”

You try to ignore him, try to stay focused on what you’re doing, but it’s so hard. 

So hard when all he’s doing is heckling you in that damned tone of his.

Like you were a little kid playing an adult’s game. 

That’s how he’d always been though, ever since he first kidnapped you. He treated you like you didn’t know how to handle yourself in the real world. He acted like you needed him to watch your every move and teach you how to conduct yourself. 

That’s how your relationship had been before, when you were just a regular couple, but it was when you took notice of his gaslighting and tried to break up with him that he’d taken you. 

No, YN, you can’t keep getting distracted. Stay focused. 

Glancing back over at the front door to the apartment, you counted the locks once more. Three double-sided deadbolts, two padlocked latches. Somewhere inside the apartment were five keys Tendou never dared to leave without. You just had to find them. 

“I’m getting bored in here, could you at least slip me a deck of cards or something? Otherwise I might lose my mind.” The teasing lilt hinted at the smirk on his face. No doubt he was utterly, completely calm. He always was when it came to you, because he thought he knew you like the back of his hand. 

“Shut up in there, Satori!”

He snickered. “Well that was uncalled for.”

Like always, he knew how to get under your skin. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and you tried to shake off his taunts, dragging a hand through your hair with a deep breath. 

He can’t win. I won’t let him. He’s not getting away with this.

“How about a snack at least, darling, pretty please? The toothpaste is starting to look appetizing.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing. You couldn’t find keys in the living room or the kitchen, so you resorted to investigating the bedroom. 

When Tendou heard you approaching, he began to hum playfully. It was that song, the one he’d murmur while running his fingers along your skin, while tugging you in close after coming home from work. He’d whisper it into your hair at night, or you’d hear him singing it in the shower while you were still in bed. 

“You are my sunshine,”

You slammed open the door into the bedroom, trying to block out the voice that rang out from the door right across from you. 

“My only sunshine,”

Clenching your jaw, you began digging through the dresser, pushing aside clothes and feeling along the undersides of the drawers. 

“You make me happy,”

With a huff, you gave up, moving on to Tendou’s nightstand. At the sounds of your struggles, his voice seemed to get louder, grow clearer. 

“When skies are gray,”

Handcuffs and their keys, but none of which would fit the locks. You remembered when he’d first used them on you, the first night he kidnapped you. He was afraid you would do something “stupid” like try to attack him and hurt yourself in the process, so he’d shackled you to his headboard for your own personal wellbeing. 

“You’ll never know dear,”

You slammed the drawer shut at the sight of them and moved to feel under the mattress, trying to ignore all the crumbs and dust that gathered under your fingernails amidst the attempt. Tendou, meanwhile, just kept growing louder.

“How much I love you,”

Then you felt it. Metal. A whole ring of it, too. Five keys jingled together when you yanked them out from under the bed, almost falling onto your back from your overzealous force. You almost teared up at the sight of them.

I’m getting out of here. I can see my family again.

Maybe your life would never return to normal, not after what Tendou had done, but you could certainly try. You missed humanity. You missed the outside world. How long had it been since you’d seen green grass or felt the warmth of the sun on your face? How long had it been since you’d felt rain dampen your hair or traced your eyes along the stars in the sky?

Too long. Far too long. At some point, you’d given up keeping track, but not anymore. 

“Please don’t take my,”

You pulled yourself to your feet, misty eyes still stuck in wonder upon the ring of keys in your hand. 

“Sunshine away.”

Turning toward the door, you felt the keys slip from your fingers, cluttering loudly when they hit the floor. 

Tendou stood in the doorway, his head tilted to the side. A single red brow raised, his eyes wide with slitted, shrunken irises. He towered where he stood, spiky red hair close to brushing the top of the door. Long arms extended out and gripped the edges of the doorway, nimble fingers tightening around the wood. 

 A small smirk peeled back his lips.

“Well,” his eyes slipped down to the keys on the floor before gliding back up to your face, “nobody can fault you for trying.” 

Mouth open in shock, your whole body began to tremble. A drop of cold sweat slid down your back. 

His hands loosened from around the doorway, dilated pupils still latched on your form as he made his way toward you. When he stopped, he bent low, his breath brushing the stray hairs along your face as he snagged the keys from the ground with a tut-tut of his tongue. 

His other hand swept up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to close your mouth with a warning tap to your lip. 

“Guess I’ll have to find a new hiding spot, now, won’t I? Though, this certainly was the most fun we’ve had in a while, darling.”

You didn’t even flinch when his lips ran along yours. “Who knows?” he shrugged, pulling away. He tapped your nose with his finger before intertwining your hand with his, leading you from the room. “Perhaps, if you ever try this again, I could turn it into a scavenger hunt. Give you clues and such from wherever you try to trap me next.” He snickered. “Now wouldn’t that be fun?”

You didn’t respond, face turned toward the keys he’d tossed behind carelessly onto the bed. It was like he wasn’t worried you would make an attempt toward them. Like he wasn’t worried you’d ever get the chance. 

“Of course, like then, you’d be punished afterwards for trying, but isn’t that part of the game?”

“Punished?” you stuttered, taking the seat in the barstool he encouraged you into before releasing your hand, moving to the other side of the kitchen island to scour the fridge. 

He stopped his search, pulling out a carton of eggs and eyeballing the date. “Well surely you didn’t think you could try to leave me without there being consequences.” He didn’t even spare you a glance as you blanched. “But don’t worry, that fun will come later.”

Then he set the carton of eggs on the counter in front of you with an all-too pleasant grin on his face. “Now, how’s about eggs for breakfast, sunshine?”

Hinata Shouyou:

It’s when he’s approaching to kiss you that you are able to lock him up. 

It’s the first time he’s ever done such a thing; though he’s the one who’s kidnapped you, you are the one who dictates how far he can go before you pull away. 

Of course, he’d been disappointed the first few weeks when you didn’t want him to touch you or even see you at all. 

But after a particularly bad day, when he’d come home crying and bawling and tugging you into his arms, curling around you, you’d been given a little less leeway on just how much you could pull back from him. 

It seems, though he’d been addicted to you in general before, he was now addicted to your touch specifically. 

“YN, please! Why are you doing this?!”

He’d come home that night in a bad mood, and for some reason you were sure he’d talk your ear off about while hugging you on top of him on the sofa later. But right now?

…Right now, he had a different idea. 

“I’m tired of waiting, YN,” he’d whined as he approached, though there was a dark glint in his eyes. For every step he took toward you, you took one back. Step, step, step, step. He just kept following you. 

You hadn’t realized he’d cornered you in his bedroom until you felt the backs of your knees hit the mattress. 

“YN,” he hummed, rough hands cupping your cheeks as a strand of red hair fell over his eyes. “Can I just have a little?” His gaze fell on your lips. “Just a taste? I promise I won’t take any more.”

“Just a little.”

A flicker of pink as a smirk grew on his face.

I don’t want this. I swear I don’t want this. 

No! I don’t want it!

His face was so close you could feel the heat of his gasp mingling with yours the second your knee flew up to meet his groin. 

“AGHH!” he screeched, tugging himself away. Hinata dropped to his knees, hands cupping his crotch as he let out small, pained whimpers. 

That was when you ran out of the room, dodging his grasping hands and slamming the door behind you. You grabbed the first thing you could think of to shove in front of it. 

“YN-”

In a matter of seconds he was up and at attention, slamming the door against the sofa as you pushed it in front of the doorway. The hefty furniture effectively crammed itself in the small hallway of its apartment and limited the angle he could open the door to just a sliver. 

“YN! Please, don’t do this! Please!”

“Just let me out, we can talk about this!”

“I know you’re unhappy, but don’t you see I’ve been working so hard to change that? Please, just let me out!”

A single brown eye peered at you through the sliver of the door, pupil dilated and lid unblinking.

“I thought I was giving you enough, YN. What do you want? Do you want a puppy? My neighbor has the cutest dog, YN, I promise. You’d love it,” he pleaded, faux excitement tainting his voice. 

The single eye followed your every move as you paced around the apartment, mumbling to yourself about what to do, how to get out. “I could get your favorite food! It’s just down the street, I know you’ve wanted it. I was planning to get it tomorrow to celebrate our two-hundred day anniversary, but I can get it now if you like! Call it our one-hundred and ninety-ninth day anniversary! It could be our thing!”

“Please, YN, it could be our thing. Remember how we used to have things?”

You tried to ignore him. You really did. As you dug frantically through his cabinets and shelves, his desk drawers and bathroom cupboards, you considered shoving a couple cotton balls in your ears just to block out his nervous exclamations. 

The thought did cross your mind, but only for a second. Soon enough, the blood pounding in your ears was doing the job. Your mind fogged as you searched, struggling to believe that you had a chance to escape. 

Is this real? It was this easy all along? That was all I had to do?

Hinata’s cries weren’t helping your nerves any. Instead, you felt your shoulders grow more tense each time you heard his desperate, breathy voice. You felt like curling in on yourself and giving up. 

It can’t be this easy. What the hell is going on?

You glance back at the door, staring at the lock that lined it. You’d consider breaking a window, but you knew the apartment was on the fifth floor of the complex; jumping from that height would be a death sentence. 

You hadn’t completely lost your will yet. 

No, no. You just needed to find the keys. The door on the outside appeared normal, wooden. On the inside, though, Hinata had gone through the trouble of layering it with a few sheets of metal. One could kick the door in, but could not kick it out. 

The keys. 

Where the fuck are they?

“YN, I love you. So, so much. I just wanna see you, please! Let me see you at least.”

He pounded against the door with his fists, tremoring the door and the sofa, but not moving it. Tears pricked your eyes at the sound; you were so close, so goddamn close. You weren’t sure how Hinata was going to react after this if you didn’t escape, and you didn’t want to find out. 

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, eyes darting around the living room as your hands yanked at your scalp. “Fuck!”

“YN, please.” His was quiet, more forlorn than you were ever used to. “I don’t want you to leave me. I get so lonely without you.”

“Lonely, huh?” The words crawl up your throat before you can stop them. “You think you’re lonely?” A headache forms at your temples, but you ignore it as you storm toward his room. “You don’t know true loneliness until you’ve been trapped inside your crazy ex-boyfriend’s apartment, no friends, no family, for days on end.”

“You think you’re lonely, Shouyou? Try putting yourself in my shoes.” Frustration has formed a weight in the pit of your stomach. You feel glued to the floor waiting for his response, almost… almost, you supposed, hoping for an apology of some sorts. 

You loved him at some point in your life, and, no matter how insane he looked and sounded when he said it, he loved you too. You just wanted to know if he felt even an ounce of pity for what he had been putting you through. 

“Shouyou, I just-”

“You’re lonely, YN?”

You pause, voice caught in your throat. Hinata’s tone is tainted with nothing but genuine curiosity. Somehow, though, you feel like you’ve messed up. 

“I-...um-”

“Are you lonely without me?”

Shit. 

“YN.” You catch his eye in between the small opening of the doorway. His gaze is intense, suddenly focused and attuned to his surroundings. “Say it again.”

“Say you get lonely when I leave you at home. Say you miss me when I leave for games and practices.” There’s a creaking sound of sorts, but you can’t quite tell where it originates from. 

“Please, I wanna hear it again. Say you want me around all the time, that you need me close by so you don’t feel lonely anymore. Say it.” Breathy, yet goading. 

Shame and anger raise a heat to your cheeks, and you’re flustered that Hinata has misconstrued your words in such a way. You didn’t want him. No, you didn’t. What you wanted was to not be locked away and deprived of human contact like you were.

That was all. 

Creak. “You’re so cute when you blush. But don’t worry, YN, I won’t tease you. I’m just so glad that you’re finally being honest. Lonely without me? God, YN, I’m so in love with you.”

Creak. “I’ll never make you lonely again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Crack. 

Adrenaline in the heat of the moment allows people to do amazing things. You’ve heard stories of mothers lifting cars, people bending metal or jumping from buildings. Doing things that should be impossible. 

You supposed that was why it was so easy for Hinata in that moment, all riled up by your words and your actions in such a short amount of time, to crack the door in half. The one hinge the upper-half was still attached to allowed it to fly open, barely catching its splintered wood on the back of the sofa. 

One second, you watched in horror as the half-door slammed against the wall, rattling the hanged picture frames. 

The next, you saw a flash of orange before your back slammed against the wood flooring. A throbbing pain shot up your spin and down to your tailbone, but something sturdy and soft cradled the back of your head so your skull didn’t suffer the same fate. A weight, not necessarily overpowering, left you cemented to the floor, legs out flat as your arms lay limp at your sides, numb with shock. 

Hinata sat above you, on his knees and straddling your thighs. One hand, as you figured, was behind your head, lifting it so you could face him. The other, though, hovered over your face, trembling. 

A look of wonder was painted on his face as he watched you. And if you looked closer, you could have seen a hint of adoration. 

“YN,” he whispered, his hand finding home cradling your cheek. “I mean it.”

“I’ll never make you feel lonely again.”

And then he kissed you, desperately. 

And you hated yourself, despairingly. 

Because, deep down, you felt some vile, repulsive hope that he was telling you the truth.