And You Deserve So Many More!! Congrats On The Milestone, And I Can’t Wait To See You Meet So Many

(I’m the anon who requested a part 2 of the Michael grey fic) I have some ideas :) if Michael grey is in the process of healing but still isn’t strong enough, what if his darling began missing home more than she loved him, and tried to escape to go home? Or maybe it could be when he’s healing he becomes very clingy and his darling is there for him to cling to? Have a good day/night!

Lost and Found (Yandere Michael Gray x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

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

Part 1

A/N: not exactly what was requested, but it was an idea I had rattling around in the ol' hat rack for a while. Can be read as a standalone, but it is part 2 of "Gray Chains," so either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy!

Word count: 2664

You can see him approaching you now. Through the crowds of swaying people, of hazy smoke and jazz hanging in the air of the dark, gilded nightclub, dressed in a tuxedo of white with a red bowtie at his throat. 

There’s a hungry look in his gaze, but that’s only because he’s been starved of you for hours. Five weeks of sitting in that hospital room with him, catering to his every need, his every desire. All because you’d accidentally fallen for the man that had left you tied to his bed for days on end.

In that white, suffocating room full of antiseptic and nurses filtering in and out, you’d sat there one night in a chair, pulled up next to his bed. Your bottom was numb and hot from the sheer number of times you’d been in that same position by his side.

His hand had been curled around yours, and according to the dimmed lights around the room and the darkness creeping in from the window, it was around ten or so at night. On his hospital bed, he lay flat on his back, still wrapped in surgical tape and stitches. The blue patches of skin under and around his eyes had begun to fade paler, almost matching the yellowed, stitched skin on his chest. His eyes drooped, the gunmetal blue in them tainted with exhaustion.

Still, somehow though, he found it in himself to smile at you, pulling your hand up to his lips with a doting sigh and peppering kisses along the back of your hand. His hair fell into his eyes during the act, and you brushed it back from his forehead into alignment with the other, freshly dampened strands. 

He paused his ministrations. Pressing his lips one final time against your knuckles, his gaze found yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin. 

He said it every night. He said it every morning too, and at least twice during each midday. 

You’d never said it back. You never felt the need to; to you, he was just supposed to be the kidnapper you’d found yourself forced to take care of. You’ve had the deplorable feelings and thoughts that came with you being around his loving self every day, but you’d never dared to give in to the words. 

Now, you’d felt them ghosting your lips. You’d felt your resolve break, and you’d actually told yourself there was no harm in returning the sentiment. He had won you over.

A panic struck your chest at your realization, and you fumbled back into your chair, mind frantic. 

Michael was completely unaware. Like usual, his brows twitched and furrowed at your lack of response, and he released your hand, settling himself carefully underneath the blanket and watching as you did the same in the chair beside him. Dutifully, he waited until your eyes fell closed and your breath steadied before giving into his own exhaustion. 

“Goodnight, love.”

And when his soft snores began to fill the room, you fled. With a pocketful of the stack of cash Tommy had delivered earlier to pay for Michael’s hospital bills, you walked, carefully blank-faced, through the quiet, marble halls and out the door before hailing a cab to London.

Eden Club. 

The pub the cab driver had recommended to you after the look on your face and your voiced need for a drink. You’d nodded absentmindedly, and now you found yourself in the heart of the thumping room, chandeliers twinkling on the ceiling and gold laced throughout the alabaster floor. At one of the few tables surrounding the group of dancers, you sipped on a red wine, the strong, thick flavor intoxicating your senses until you couldn’t understand why you were in the pub at all. 

But you knew it was Michael. It had to be. Who else would approach you in this pandemonium of sweaty, inebriated bodies? Saxophones wailed as a singer of sorts crooned into his microphone so many feet behind you, and you flinched as someone bumped into the back of your chair while making their way to the party floor. 

No, it wasn’t Michael, you realized now. The waiter in the all-white suit approached you now, a sommelier, in all actuality. The wine cloth over his arm was stained from many former visits, and you realize now that the bottle in his hand is of the same kind as the drink in your glass. 

The sommelier catches your eye, and before he can open his mouth to offer another glass, you shake your head, waving away the bottle. 

Not Michael. 

You watch as he nods, approaching the other tables around you in turn, the same offer filling their ears. 

No, you think to yourself, cupping your wine glass with both hands and losing yourself deeper in the crimson liquid. No more tonight. Your hands tighten, the one around the stem feeling so close to cracking the glass. 

A breath, not quite relieving after the fright you’d just had, escapes you. You’re not quite sure how long it’s been since you’d left, but it must be somewhere close to two a.m. by now. Michael will have awakened at least once or twice in the span of time you’d left, and certainly now he’s asking around about your whereabouts--presumably impolitely. 

Presumably with threats and torture, if his cousins had received a call. 

You try to care about the people who may have been hurt in your wake, but the fog that’s come to muddle your mind is making sympathy difficult. The rich, sweet taste is still on your tongue, and you wonder vaguely if your mouth is stained red at all.

Jewelry clutters and chimes on the dance floor, women’s bracelets and earrings and even men’s stopwatches jingling around the room. Some men, few and far between in the effervescent club, idle about with their canes, abrupt claps of solid wood against marble floor interrupting the beat of the song.

Behind you, that same clinking piques your ear in a steady rhythm, the pace surprisingly uninterrupted by the large number of people bumbling about. Though you haven’t seen the waiter with the cane before, his presence is uncomfortably close behind your back now. His hand reaches around, grasping the pair of yours in his own before his wine bottle comes into view. 

“No--sorry,” you stutter, watching a bit flustered as the glass fills substantially, “I told the other waiter I don’t need any more.”

“Believe me, love, you’ll need another drink.”

You snap your mouth shut, eyes locked on the glass as Michael keeps pouring until the wine is level with the rim. He slams the bottle onto the table, trembling the surface so hard liquid sloshes out and onto the tan tablecloth. 

He comes into view from behind you, and you draw a line from the clinking to the cane in his hand. You suppose you should have figured. Prior to leaving, one of the doctors seeing Michael had decided that he would soon be ready to walk, though with aid.

He sets the cane’s handle against the table before settling into the seat across from you. The lines in his forehead are angry and deep, especially in the dim lighting of the pub. Out of the pocket of his black overcoat, he pulls a pack of cigarettes, not bothering to offer one to you as he lights it with a match and adjusts himself. His mouth twists into a frown, and he hisses under his breath in pain. 

One cloud of smoke floats from his mouth through his nostrils and then escapes in one long stream. Then he draws his eyes up, and the second his gaze locks on yours, you know you can’t run any longer. 

You swallow. His eyes follow the movement, and when a flush crawls up onto your face, he inhales again. 

“You found me.”

“I did.”

You fall silent, and an air of sobriety seems to clean out the fog in your mind. You can feel it now, the pounding heartbeat in your ears down through your fingertips. Despite the implications of his presence, you can’t help the comfort that buzzes underneath your skin. 

Michael found you like he always did. 

That was supposed to be a bad thing. 

“Didn’t take you long.”

“You didn’t cover your tracks well.” He exhaled, two streams of smoke filling the air as he watched you. “The second you were mine, you were a Peaky Blinder. You left as a Peaky Blinder, so all eyes were on you.” His jaw tightened. “Perhaps you should have thought your escape through better.”

You pause, lips screwing shut as you traced with the rim of your wine glass. The room seems to have grown hotter, and for a second you feel like your breathing is far too audible. Underneath the table, a pressure against your knee causes you to flinch.

Michael crosses one knee over the other, a brow raised as his eyes bore into you. His stare crawls over your skin, claiming your face, your bare collar bones, down to the arms and then the fingers you can’t seem to keep steady. He’s unimpressed on the surface, especially with your performance tonight. Beneath all of that, though, you know he has some plan formulating in his mind. Perhaps it’s already in motion.

The look in his eyes is calculating, critical. As always, you feel as though he controls your next move. He was always so good at predicting you. That was how he got you in the first place. 

He takes another drag and taps the ashes out in the tray set on the table, waiting expectantly.

“It wasn’t planned,” you look away when Michael scoffs, “if that… makes you feel any better.”

“Do you think it does?” he jeered, leaning back into his seat with a curled lip.

You shook your head. “You don’t even know why I left.”

“I have a few guesses, love, but please, enlighten me.”

“Do you remember what happened? Before I left?”

“Only the usual things.” He huffed. “You fell asleep, or at least pretended to, and when I did, you bolted.”

“Before that.”

His jaw twitched, and he dropped his crossed leg to the ground, leaning forward and smothering his cigarette out with a slam of his hand, every movement quick and violent. “When I told you I fucking loved you, was that it? Was that why you did it?” He reached out and tore the glass from your grasp, throwing it against the floor. “You think I’m some fucking monster for loving you, for wanting you for myself.” His eyes flashed with rage, and with his teeth bared, he spat, “You left because I love you.” 

“I left because I love you,” you hissed.

Michael’s eyes widened just as yours did. His lips fell open, and all anger on his face softened and disappeared. 

“W-what?” he whispered breathlessly.

While a breath caught in your throat, you felt a tightness in your chest fade away. The fog that seemed to swim around inside your head for the last hour had finally dissipated, and you could clearly feel the regret clawing at your heart while battling another emotion. 

“It’s not right—it’s wrong. So fucking wrong.” Tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you try to fight them away with the pressure of your palms. 

“That’s why you left.” Michael sounded in a daze. “Because you love me.”

You stayed silent, battling a headache as the tears finally fell. It was hard to breathe, but at the same time it was as though you’d caught the first breath of fresh air in weeks. 

Fingertips grazed your wrists, peeled your hands from your eyes. 

“You really love me?” he asked quietly, almost desperately. 

You fell back into an old habit, the words I hate you grazing your lips, but even the thought of letting them fly pained you as much as you knew they would hurt him. 

God, you didn’t even want to hurt him. You loved him. 

“This is so fucking wrong,” you muttered again, a sob almost following. 

All it took was a smile on that fateful day. 

You saw the cute boy—man—on the street, the one whose eyes were watching you with fascination, and you’d smiled back.

The next time you saw him, he was breaking the glass of your bedroom window, fumbling to get inside and barely snagging your ankle when you’d tried to flee. 

It’s all so wrong.

Until recently, you could still feel it, that chain around your wrist, like a phantom that haunted you every other day you’d fallen asleep in the chair at his hospital bedside. The one he used to keep you in his bed, his home, the one that stopped you from fleeing and made it so that all you’d known for months was Michael and his overbearing, delusional love for you.

You couldn’t even feel that anymore. He’d finally gotten through. He won. 

So, so wrong.

Michael caressed the skin of your wrists, pulling your hands closer and littering kisses along your palms. “Love, you’re perfect, do you know that?” His lips ran along your fingertips. “Just perfect,” he hummed.

He rose to his feet, releasing one of your hands to grab his cane before rounding the table toward you. Beneath his shoes, broken glass crackled.

Using the hand in his grip, he lifted you to your feet. 

“Let’s get out of here, love. Come on,” he released you and instead placed a hand on the small of your back. “I have a cab waiting outside. Let’s get home.”

Michael ushered you past the swaying, sweaty crowd, out from underneath the smoke that hung in the air of the club, and into the clean, cold atmosphere of the outside. You barely registered the nodding of the club bouncers at Michael, nor the familiarity of your cab driver’s face as he led you into the back seat, his long coat draped over your bare shoulders. 

On the way back to Birmingham, Michael never stopped touching you. Either his hand held yours, or his arm was wrapped around your waist or shoulders. One of his knees always pressed against one of yours, and when you dropped your head onto his shoulder, his head leaned atop yours. 

When exhaustion began to nip at your fluttering eyelids and softened your mind, you lifted your head to look at Michael. He stared back, blue eyes wandering adoringly over your face. “What’s wrong, love?”

You bit your tongue, wanting to restrain the gentle pulsing in your chest in some way, but you couldn’t help it. You can’t stop how it slowly overtakes your senses, especially when Michael raises a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“I love you.”

His hand begins to tremble against your skin, and his lips twitch into a smile as pure reverence floods his vision. “I love you too,” he breathes.

And when he rushes forward to press his lips to yours, you wrap your arms around him openly, hold him lovingly. He accepts everything you give him, every whine, moan, and whimper, and in return he worships your body with his hands, petting and stroking and clutching onto you with every fiber of his being. 

“I won’t let you go again,” he murmurs against your lips, and his arms tighten around you. “I can’t lose you anymore.”

“It’s okay,” you cup his face, pulling him impossibly closer. “You found me.”

Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) ~Chapter 2~

(Supernatural/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: Here’s another part (finally:)) Lowkey proud of this mf. My god, I’m so happy y’all like this series, and I seriously hope you enjoy this part!

Tag List: @burntcilantro​  @alloverbutterflies​  @translucentthoughts​  @zaejia​  @momothepeachgirl <-this tag doesn’t work😔 @black-veil-chemicalz​  @miigoth​  

Word count: 6200

        “Let me go.”

        “No.”

        “Let me go.”

        “No.”

        You had been stuck in that damned cage for two weeks now. The blood red walls of the room closed in on you more and more every day, and the only sources of light you could treasure came through the window and played on the television outside of your cell. Since they had captured you, they fed you every morning, midday and night, on a schedule no different from a zoo animal. You no longer held the fuzzy feelings for them that you’d had before they kidnapped you, but for some reason you couldn’t hate them. Besides, they haven’t hurt you yet, so it wasn’t likely they ever would. 

        “Let me go.” Akaashi sighed and threw you a dirty look while locking your cage. 

        “Dear God YN, for the last time, we’re not letting you out!” His calm voice never raised more than necessary, but the heightened brow he gave you spoke enough of a threat. Never gonna happen. 

        After tucking the key into his pocket, he tugged on the bars to test if it was actually locked before taking a seat on the new, leather addition to the living room they trapped you in. You figured since your makeshift bed was made of the cushions from the old couch, they kind of had to adjust to the room’s new centerpiece. You. Anyways, Akaashi had just returned you from a bathroom break he and Bokuto would occasionally allow you. It was a minuscule amount of freedom you got to be away from their sight, but it was limited to five minutes each, excluding emergencies. 

        “Geez, Mr. Grumpypants. I just asked a little question.” He narrowed his blue eyes at you and you sneered back.

        If they were going to drive you crazy, you would do the same. 

        The only thing keeping you from truly going insane was the TV you could never reach. It wasn’t much for size, but it drawled peacefully with the news channel. It was the only way you could see the outside world, other than the room’s window, which only showed a forest anyway. You figured you were in the life-sucking, second-floor living room of some well-kept but forgotten mansion.

        Nothing decorated the maroon walls aside from one wilted, framed painting. It was dusty and wrinkled, but held three figures: you and your kidnappers. Dressed in an elegant, royal purple ball gown, you sat in what appeared to be a throne while each man stood behind your bare shoulders, Akaashi on the left and Bokuto on the right. The former wore his signature frown while his erratic companion had a wild grin. You, on the other hand, only smirked, but something akin to pure joy gleamed in your eyes. Maybe it was the lighting. 

        You constantly reamed the freakshows for getting a professional painting done of you and them in love, but they always dismissed the topic, saying it was “for another time.”

        Like hell it was. 

        “Hey dumbass,” you suddenly piped up, dropping cross-legged onto your “bed” and leaning back against the bars to relax. Akaashi only hummed in response, but his eyes had been on you the whole time you were deep in thought. “How did you douche canoes get a picture like that?” Your insults grew worse the more you stayed in captivity. 

        “You’ll find out soon, my love.”

        “Oh come on, how long is ‘soon’?”

        “Soon.” You roll your eyes. 

        “All right then. Can I be let out soon?” A muscle in his jaw twitches at the question while his eyes slowly narrow at you, leading you to throw in the towel. 

        “Fine, fine,” you rush out, avoiding his burning gaze. “Can I at least take a bath? I smell like century-old roadkill.” You sniff instinctively at your words and immediately regret the action. 

        Akaashi, however, seems to adore your idea. 

        “Oh, my YN,” he coos, standing and approaching your cell with a rare show of deviousness glinting in his eyes. “We would love to bathe you.” 

        You blanch and gulp at the suggestion, nostrils flaring. 

        “On second thought, I think I’ll keep stewing.” 

        Akaashi hums and draws closer to the bars, leaning against them with a smirk. “Are you sure, YN?” The way he says your name makes your heart skip a beat, the low murmur barely audible from your place on the ground.

        “Positive,” you snarl, remembering that now matter how attractive the man before you was, he was also your kidnapper. After you open your mouth to spout another retort, Akaashi suddenly pulls back just as Bokuto barges into the room, hands loaded with a tray of food. 

        “My love! I made you breakfas-” His ecstatic smile drops in an instant. As soon as his eyes lock on you, they change. Their color shifts from his normal gold to an intimidating red. Blood red. The sight wasn’t familiar, but it struck fear into your heart like no other, and you couldn’t help but tremble under his… depraved gaze. Something about it exuded desperation and hunger.

        You swallow nervously and his eyes dart to your throat, watching the act. A low rumble begins to echo through the bare room as Bokuto approaches you ever so slowly. The tense atmosphere of the room grows thicker as you wait for an attack, frozen in your position on the floor. 

        His lips peel back, and just as you catch a glimpse of his fangs glistening in the sun’s light, his body is thrown back out into the hall like a sack of flour, tugged by an invisible string. Akaashi levitates your breakfast tray in midair with one hand while he waves the other, causing the door to close with a slam. With a flicker of his fingers, the lock clicks and your food carefully lowers to the floor, sliding under the cell’s iron bars with practiced ease. 

        “Ignore that,” he mutters, blue eyes still trained on the entryway with a hidden display of disease. You struggle to follow his orders blindly, still shaken by whatever the hell had just happened. 

        Deep in thought, you carefully tear off small bits of the cinnamon roll Bokuto had made, chewing on the sugary goodness with chattering teeth. You were too frightened to even focus on the flavor, even though it was by far your most favorite prison food. Finally, you submit to your curiosity. 

        “Hey.” No response.

        “Hey!” Ignored.

        “Hey Akaashi!” Nothing. For two minutes you try to grab his attention, yelling his name and obnoxiously clanging against the bars with your fork, but nothing happens. Try me, buddy.

        The only source of protein Bokuto had provided for today’s breakfast was a hard-boiled egg rocking back and forth on your metal tray thanks to your frantic movements. You don’t hesitate to grab it and chuck it at Akaashi’s head. 

        Mission failed. We’ll get ‘em next time. 

        Your evil professor from two weeks ago throws up a measly hand and suddenly the egg hits an invisible wall. It falls to the hardwood floor with a dull thump while he rolls his eyes at you. 

        “Seriously?”

        “Oh c’mon Akaashi!” you gesture to the door with a nod of your head. “What the hell was that?”

        “I said ignore it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. The raven-haired man exits the room with a bang, leaving you to collapse back onto your bed and try to fall asleep again. Nothing worked though. Bokuto’s glowing scarlet eyes were burned into your retinas, and you highly doubted you would be getting good rest any time soon.

        “What the hell was that?” you repeat under your breath. 

                                ~~~

        More time passes, and you don’t even have the energy anymore to count the sunrises. You haven’t seen Bokuto in a while, but guessed that was mostly the last encounter’s doing. Hate no longer encompasses your brain when you see or think of them, although all of your feelings have grown dull at this point. You haven’t felt excitement, rage, worry, or happiness in too long. You couldn’t even force a glare anymore. Sitting in an empty cage, surrounded by nothing and no one was really getting to you. Scientists were right when they said humans were social creatures. You were dying, slowly from the inside-out. 

        Your hair felt greasy and dead. Your cheeks felt sunken and sullen. The only thing you could do in captivity was lie down and sleep. So you did. 

        You sat with your head propped up on your elbow, boredly watching the day's weather forecast instead of searching directly outside the window at it. It was sunny and hot, just like always, and yet you couldn’t even feel it. 

        A loud groan of pain outside the door causes you to jump. 

        “I can’t control it, Akaashi!” Another agonized grunt. “I need her! Your potions aren’t working anymore!” The hall is silent for a second, presumably thanks to Akaashi’s quieter tone. Then Bokuto speaks once more. “No, her scent is too much! I can’t!”

        Nothing happens for a solid ten minutes. There was a clock on the news channel, and you’d been checking it once every few seconds in between watching the door leading to the hall. Absolute silence for ten minutes after that shocking outburst. 

        Without warning, the entrance to your room blasts open and a table chock-full of colorful glass bottles and bubbling chemistry equipment floats in, one foot off the ground. A small bookcase follows, only containing titles in a foreign language that, you were pretty sure, was ancient and dead. At last, Akaashi trails in as the caboose to the furniture express, his arms raised in the air and pointed at the newest additions to the fun room. 

        “What’s going on?” You push off the ground and clasp the bars of your cell, leaning as close as you can to watch Akaashi perform his magic. With squinted eyes, he gently sets the floating furnishings on the floor, pushing them against the wall before snapping his fingers and producing a spinny chair in front of the table. 

        “Bokuto’s going wild, and I need to keep an eye on you from now on while I work.” He doesn’t dare make eye contact with you, and instead focuses on transporting in a new cabinet from the hall, carefully placing it between the books and the desk. Its shelves are filled to the brim with labeled jars and locked boxes, some glowing and some creating curious clouds of fog. 

        “Why?” you ask restlessly, gripping the iron tighter. “What’s wrong with him?” 

        At the question, Akaashi halts his movements and hesitantly turns back to you. His blue orbs drop to your neck before flicking back up to your face. “He’s keeping his promise.” 

        His promise? His promise?! What promise? You dig through your memories of every time you’ve ever interacted with Bokuto, and there was only one promise you could think of. 

        “Next time, I promise I’ll wait until you let me!” 

        It was after you found out he had bitten you. After you found out he had drank your blood. 

        Is that really what caused this? His whines out in the hall had been disturbingly pained, and every word he spoke had sounded forced through bare teeth. 

        Suddenly, his red eyes from a few mornings ago made a lot more sense. 

        He was thirsty, and you were the only juice pouch he wanted. 

        “Akaashi,” you shift on your feet and rub the back of your neck awkwardly. “Why doesn’t Bokuto just… umm…” you trail off, not exactly sure how to phrase it without sounding insane. From inside your cage. Where you had been locked in by a vampire and a wizard. Maybe you should just quit trying to sound sane from now on; it was quickly becoming a useless habit of yours.

        “Yes?” His back is still to you, but he turns his head in effort to show he’s listening while he fumbles with radiant tonics at his new work station.

        “Why doesn’t he just, like, drink from another person?” 

        The black-haired man’s posture goes rigid, and his head slowly raises to face the wall in front of him. The bottled liquids are left forgotten on the desk while he grips its edges with white knuckles. A bitter chuckle leaves him, and it shakes you to the core.

        “Oh, my love, you have so much to learn.” 

        “Do I?”

        “Yes,” he smirks. “For now, just know that the only one he willingly drinks blood from is you, and you alone.”

        The thought makes you nauseous. You hadn’t even been conscious the first time, but you already know you don’t look forward to another blood-sucking experience. “Wonderful,” you mutter bitterly, folding your arms and stepping away from the bars. 

        You don’t speak for the next hour, only watching Akaashi work with wide eyes. Every few minutes, a puff of steam or a crackle of sparks would arise from his movements. As if on repeat, he constantly switched between trailing his finger over a page of an open book, shaking random glass bottles until they had a reaction, and plucking various jarred items off the shelves to add to his mysterious concoctions. As someone who had never believed in magic or storybooks, you were mystified. 

        “Hey Akaashi?” you piped up, eyes still locked on his hand’s twirling motions as he read from the book. 

        “Yes, my love?” You still kind of hated that nickname, but in a way it was growing on you. 

        “Can I do some of that... stuff?” 

        “Absolutely not,” he responded in the same, domestic tone. 

        “Oh come on, I’m dying in here, bro!” 

        “Well, bro,” he spat out, obviously not a fan of your own name-calling, “it’s even more deadly out here. You can’t touch any of this stuff unless you want to lose your eyesight.” 

        “Well, I’d have to look at you less, so maybe it’s worth a shot, hmm?” 

        He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to let out a deep sigh and roll his shoulders back. You weren’t done, though, and decided to complain until his ears bled. 

        “Oh my God, I’m so bored.” Zero acknowledgement from your pal, but no matter. 

        “Akaashi, my dude, I’m like really bored in here.” You tap your nails against the metal lockspace, causing annoying little clinks to reverberate around the room. 

        “I’m not your ‘dude,’” he whispers, so faint you can barely hear it. 

        “My dude! I’m really bored. I could literally die of boredom right here, right now. You wanna know how bored I am?-”

        “No.”

        “-I’m so bored I could-”

        “My love!” he barks, spinning to face you with a glare. “Do you mind?” While his eye twitches and his teeth gnaw, you only shrug your shoulders with pursed lips.

        “No, not really. You’re fine.”

        Akaashi’s deep blue eyes observe you in annoyance and he finally gives in, stomping close enough that you can see each one of his long lashes. “What. Do. You. Want.” 

        “To do something, Akaashi!” You throw your arms in the air exasperatedly and spin around. “Do you know how much it sucks to be in here?” His face darkens with guilt as you give him a pleading look. “Please,” you fold your hands and pout, “please just let me do something, anything.” 

        Ashamed, Akaashi brushes a hand through his hair and bites his lip, trying to come up with an idea that won’t require you to leave the cage. At last, his gaze brightens and he snaps his fingers.

        Something crashes to the floor behind you. You spin around and gawk at the sight. 

        “Books?!”

        “Go nuts, my love.” 

        I’ll try.

                                ~~~

        “What’s the difference between eggshell white and white white?” You furrow your brows and squint at the phrase in the novel.

        “Eggshell is softer.” 

        “Really?!” Your eyes widen in excitement and you begin to wiggle on your blanket pile. “Wow, that’s so amazing! God, aren’t words just so interesting Akaashi?”

        “Are you being serious?”

        “Fuck no.” The grin drops off your face and you toss the book back behind you. Good news: Akaashi had given you a bookshelf. Bad news: every single one so far had been mind-numbingly dull. Or maybe it was the atmosphere. 

        Life seemed to be just a little more stale each day you sat in that room without Bokuto’s interrupting presence. You missed the times when he would barge in with a “Hey hey hey!” and slide your food into the cell before plopping down cross-legged and telling you stories. It didn’t matter what they were about. Sometimes it was about a dog he got to pet at the grocery store. Other times it was a bird he saw while running around in the forest. It wasn’t until now that you realized how much you actually missed him. You legitimately missed your owlish kidnapper, who had bitten you without consent.

        Somewhere deep in your mind, you guessed he was still just the same old diner customer who occupied most of your shift, then made up for it with a generous tip. But maybe, just maybe you saw him as more than that.

        “Akaashi,” you sigh, rolling over onto your stomach and resting your chin on your folded arms, “is Bokuto okay?” 

        He doesn’t respond for a minute, and the air in the room grows a bit harder to breathe. “I don’t really know, YN.” His answer, at last, isn’t exactly what you wanted to hear, but neither was the agonized roar that followed. 

        “AAHH!” 

        You scramble to your feet while Akaashi drops a glass in surprise. The glowing liquid splatters everywhere, but he pays it no mind even as it sizzles against the hardwood.

        “What the hell was that?” you whisper in terror, wide eyes watching him for an explanation. The shake of his head along with a shrug didn’t exactly comfort you. 

        Abruptly, another howl of pain cuts through the air, breaking the nervous tension like a knife. Then a scream sounds. Bangs and cracks rumble the floor beneath your feet as Bokuto, or what you assume is Bokuto, cries out in absolute torment. 

        You flinch every time he makes a noise, and frantically reach for Akaashi when he begins to walk towards the door. 

        “Akaashi, no-” He silences you with a finger against his lips and nods reassuringly before cracking open the door and disappearing into the hall, locking it in his wake. 

        One minute passes. More screams, but nothing worse.

        Two minutes. 

        Three. 

        Four. 

        On the fifth minute, or the three hundred seconds that you had counted Mississippi-lessly, Akaashi crashes back into the room with wide, panicked eyes, slamming the door behind him. 

        He sprints towards your cell with a heaving chest and waves his hand, causing the bars to fly open. Your heart rate speeds up at the sight. I’m free.

        “We have to go,” he sputters, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the cage. His fingers clench your own so tightly, and his palms are clammy and twitching as he drags you out of the room. 

        The halls are dark, but colored the same maroon as the walls of your cage-area. You barely have enough time to comprehend all the tapestries you pass, every vase and statue and stained glass transforming into a blur as Akaashi speeds up his longer stride. Your legs burn as you try to keep up with him, and your heart races in excitement. 

        I’m free.

        Every twist and turn he leads you through gives you whiplash, and you only now know that you’ve been living in a friggin’ labyrinth for the past month or so. Each corridor has a window, and each window displays the full moon outside. It’s the only light that shows Akaashi the path he needs to take. 

        Your arm begins to ache from his straining grip, keeping it constantly extended as he flies ahead of you in a dead sprint. The burn only lessens when Akaashi slows to a stop in a large foyer. Two staircases lead down to one main entrance of the mansion. 

        I’m free. 

        You’re so close you can practically taste it. And finally, your blood rushing in and out of your eardrums, becoming so quiet that you can finally hear it. A low growl coming from the hallway just behind you. 

        “Come on,” Akaashi shouts to you, snatching your hand once again and trailing you down the steps of the right staircase in a mad rush. He pulls you out the main entrance and slams the two large doors closed behind him. The lion-faced metal door knockers clang loudly as it shuts, and Akaashi mumbles foreign words under his breath while releasing his grip on you, waving two blue, glowing hands over the crease of the doorway.  

        What was the strongest bone in the body again? 

        “This should give us enough time to escape. Then we’ll figure out how to fix him once we’re far enough away,” Akaashi chokes out, gulping down air while he watches the mansion’s entrance warily. 

        “Oh, good.” In a split second, you throw your elbow into Akaashi’s forehead, effectively knocking him unconscious. “Guess I’m still a little pissed off about being locked up though, dickhead.” You deliver a swift kick to the side of his body while leering over him with a smirk. Then you swivel back and observe your escape routes. 

        There was option one, which was a paved path that presumably led to the real world once more. Both Bokuto and Akaashi, when he woke up, would easily spot you running down this trail. 

        Or there was option two, which was the dense forest that you could barely see from the large patio of the mansion. It would be less easy to find you or track your scent, but you would have to travel slower on account of not tripping and being wary of wild animals. 

        You decided to take your chances and tore cheek towards the forest. Your legs were about to give out thanks to the marathon inside the house, so the only thing fueling you right now was pure adrenaline. You had done many amazing things with adrenaline, so you figured it could help you out now too. 

        Every rock and twig on the forest floor seemed to be out to trip you, so you attempted to hop over them with all the grace you could muster. What you hope looked like an elegant gazelle galloping on the great plains actually appeared to be a newborn giraffe bumbling around on spare strands of hay. You twisted your ankles like twenty times, but the pain only drove you harder. 

        I can make it!

        I can make it!

        I can make it!

        Wind whipped past your face and blew your hair into your mouth, but you had to settle for choking on it because every time you spit it out, it thwapped right back into your eyes. Your lungs pleaded for a break while your knees began to wobble, and the time you finally decided to give in to their whining was about the time you tripped over a fallen log and face-planted directly adjacent to a pile of what you prayed wasn’t any sort of excrement. 

        I can’t make it.

        “Fuck,” you wheeze, wiping the dirt and hair off your face before butt-scooching to lean back against a tree. Tenderly, you rub your ankles and try not to cry out at the pain. Tears stung your eyes while your muscles throbbed with soreness. Your heartbeat was tangible even in the palms of your hands. Every little thing that could hurt in your body did hurt. Places you didn’t even know existed twinged every few seconds, and you couldn’t help but rue the day you quit the gym. 

        “Shit,” you whimper quietly, biting your lip as wetness begins to pain your cheeks. How were you even supposed to return to real life normally after this? After being kidnapped by your teacher and a man who knows where you worked? Would the cops put you in the Witness Protection program? Would you ever get to see your family again? Most importantly: would you even make it out of these woods alive?

        The low growls that slow began to resound around you certainly increased the severity of that question. Your breathing hitched as you spotted something, or some things, about thirty feet away from you. Mountain lions, but twice as big, and of different colors. And from the sound of it, they were also behind you as well. 

        As a pack, they circled you, and ever so slowly, they creeped closer and closer. The one directly in front of you was nearest, and you cowered away with silent snivels of fear. It appeared to lead the group with every step it took, with its massive, black paws pressing soundlessly against the forest floor. It was barely visible thanks to its fur color, which was as dark as the night sky. It was by far the largest of them all, none of the others in your line of sight even came close. 

        As you hugged your knees to your chest and dug your back into the tree behind you, the leader loomed nearer. Finally, it was practically two feet from you, and sniffed you curiously while the others stayed perched and ready to attack. Then you got the weirdest feeling from it, like the wild feline was smirking at you. 

        What the hell? You furrow your brows and stabbed your nails into your legs, trying to stop yourself from making anymore sounds. Even the smallest reaction on your part might cause them to attack. But then a surprised mewl sounded behind you, followed by a whimper. Then another, then another until you realized that something… or maybe someone was picking them off one by one. 

        The leader in front of you huffed out a warm breath that hit you in the face as it snarled. This caused you to cry out in instinctive fear, and a loud growl echoed in response. 

        A flash of white latched onto the flank of the wild cat beside the leader, who whipped around with a hiss and a swipe of its meaty paw. The tackled feline went flying behind its attacker, then its friend was tossed away with inhuman strength as well before all that remained was the black cat in front of you. The pained mewls of the rest of the pack finally died out, and the leader whipped his tail up into a frenzy as he charged the glob of white you squinted to see. 

        Screeches, growls and grunts arose as one large clamor while you clenched your eyes closed and prayed that you would make it out alive. Large thuds and smacks were audible before it all stopped in a dead silence. You heard the telltale thumps of multiple felines fleeing the scene, and hesitantly opened your eyes to see flashes of black, orange and white all fade into the distance of the dark forest directly behind the white creature in front of you.

        The only thing you could hear was the wind whistling and the heavy panting of the animal in front of you. The woods were so dark, but in an instant, two glowing red orbs were visible on it. On him. 

        “Bokuto,” you mutter under your breath. He growls deeply in response, carefully padding closer on bare feet to you. He was covered in the tatters of a black and white t-shirt and basketball shorts. His wild hair was in disarray, and you found small, bloody scratches here and there on his body, which grew smaller and smaller by the second until they healed over as smooth skin. 

        “YN,” he grumbled tightly, dropping to his knees and slowly surveying you up and down for any damage. With clenched fists at his sides, he leered over your body, breathing heavily while his eyes finally found home on your neck. Deep in his burning eyes, you saw two conflicting emotions: hunger and shame. His lips peel back to reveal two sharpened fangs, glinting in the moonlight. You can’t help but whimper at the sight and recoil, letting out a shaky breath when he stops at the noise. 

        “YN,” he repeats, his voice needy and guilty all at the same time. His hand slowly unfurls from his side and weakly brushes a hair out of your face. You wince at the feeling of his touch and he cringes at your reaction. “YN, I-” Bokuto rears back with a whine and bites his lip, easily drawing blood with his tooth-like daggers. 

        “AKAASHI!” he suddenly shouts, red eyes flaring as he avoids your gaze. The abruptness scares the life out of you for the last time, and your brain decides it needs a break from all the recent excitement. Bokuto calls out for his partner in crime once more as your vision goes fuzzy, and with an involuntary sigh of relief, you pass out against the rough tree behind you.

                                ~~~

        “Here, my love, drink this.” Akaashi settles onto the couch beside you and hands you a cup of tea with his own magical kick. You’re finally in a new room, no more cage even though you KOed one of your captors. It has a four-poster, royal purple bed with see-through tulle hanging down around it like a protective curtain. There’s a television directly across from it, sitting on top of and in between bookshelves, stacked with stories much more interesting with the ones Akaashi had previously provided. Instead of your old window, you now have a glass sliding door leading to a balcony, which has a staircase down into a gated off garden, chock-full of every kind of flower imaginable. 

        There’s a closet filled to the brim with clothing from all different centuries, most of which you refuse to wear. And last but not least, there’s a couch right next to your private bathroom, upon which both you and Akaashi are sitting. 

        “Thank you,” you mumble, accepting it with a soft smile and reveling in the warmth it provides for your fingers. 

        After you fell unconscious deep in the forest in front of the mansion, Bokuto had Akaashi carry you home to get some much-needed rest. When you awoke, the black-haired male helped you get undressed and into a bath, and you were too worn and traumatized to care if he saw you in the nude. 

        “I’ve seen it all before anyways, my love,” he had said. You didn’t bother to ask for more information, too wrapped up in releasing the tension of every muscle in your body. 

        And now, he served you a tea like a good little butler, while you sat wrapped in a warm blanket in your new cage. It was much cozier than the last one, you had to admit. 

        “Is Bokuto okay?” you whisper, still staring into your cup of tea while biting your lip. Akaashi’s arm around your shoulder tensed for just a second, then relaxed as he pulled you closer. You give in, enjoying some form of comfort after last night’s events. 

        “He’s seen you. And I don’t know if that’s made him better off or worse.”

        “Can I see him?” Your question causes Akaashi to shift in his seat, facing you with wide eyes and a blanched face. 

        “YN, he might hurt you.”

        “That’s okay.” 

        “Excuse me?” He raises a brow and gently grasps your chin in his hand, turning you to face him seriously. 

        “Let me see him.” Akaashi shakes his head.

        “YN, he’ll-”

        “I don’t care,” you interrupt more forcefully this time. “Let me see him. I just wanna say thank you.” Akaashi licks his lips nervously and clenches his eyes closed in contemplation. 

        “All right, fine. I’ll go find him. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so.” Your lips quirk up at his fold, and you grab his hand just after he stands. 

        “Thank you.” Your eyes sparkle in the lightning, and you’re not sure but you’re also almost damn positive Akaashi just blushed. 

        “Just be careful,” he grumbles, squeezing your hand before pulling away and leaving the room. 

        About half an hour passes, and after a pat on the back for your personal ability to assume how much time has passed, the door to your new bedroom opens just a hair. 

        “YN?” Bokuto whispers through the crack. “Akaashi said you wanted to talk.”

        “I do. Please come in.”

        “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

        “Please just come in.” Your beg works, and Bokuto hesitantly pushes his way inside, closing the door softly behind him. He hasn’t opened his eyes once since he entered, and you smile softly at the sight. Silent as a mouse, you rise up off the couch and slowly approach him. 

        “Y-YN-”

        “Bokuto, look, I know what’s happening to you,” you pause and wrinkle your forehead. “Well, I kinda know what you’re going through. But you helped me through all of it, and you didn’t hurt me even once. Thank you.” You cup his face gently and he inhales deeply at the affection. 

        “Can I see your eyes now?” you ask carefully. His hands trail up your sides and over your arms, all the way up to your own as he cups them closer to his cheeks. 

        “YN, I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

        “Bokuto, I trust you now.” You trail your thumbs up just under his eyelashes before returning them down to the apples of his cheeks. “Please, just let me help you.”

        After a long moment of silence, his eyelids flutter open, displaying beautiful golden orbs that shift to bright red in an instant. Bokuto swallows nervously and grips your hands tighter, his gaze constantly flickering down to your neck while a slow rumble starts to sound from deep in his chest. 

        “YN…” 

        “Come on,” you take a hand of his in your own and lead him to the couch, sitting and dragging him down next to you. Slowly, you release your grip and pull your hair back and away from your neck, tilting your head slightly to display what he needed. 

        “YN!” Bokuto growled, instinctively leaning closer before pulling back just as quickly. “I don’t wanna hurt you!” 

        “You won’t.” Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it too. Without a second thought, you grab his hand once more and place it against your neck, cringing at the uncomfortable feeling already. Maybe I can’t do this. 

        “I can’t, YN. You need to know I can’t stop if I start.” 

        “You won’t kill me.”

        “Never,” he exclaims, scandalized at the thought. His hand twitches against your neck. “I just… I’m not sure if I can stop when you do feel it. God, I need it so bad, YN. I know I won’t stop.” You were ready for this like an hour ago, but now you’re beginning to feel doubts. That’s no bueno. 

        “Fuck, Bokuto, just get on with it already!” As fast as you can, you dig your hands into his hair and yank him down into your neck. 

        Your first thought was Oh, ouchie.

        Your second thought was OW FUCK, SON OF A BITCH!

        Apparently, he had a little less resolve than he knew, because that motherfucker dove right in like a rat on a Cheeto. As soon as his fangs pierced the delicate skin of your neck, you couldn’t even speak. It was like when a cat accidentally gets their claws caught in their owner’s skin, but instead of one small flinch of pain, it was hours, times like a hundred. 

        It was like getting your blood drawn, except by a human… ’s mouth. Yeah, no shit.

        It hurt, god it hurt so bad. The noises he made as he drank your blood, sucking it straight out of it’s most vital vein, were so vulgar they made you want to plug your ears. One hand of his was in your hair, not yanking harshly, but just gently leaning your head back while the other held you in place with his hand on your hip. 

        The constant stabbing feeling pulsed right through your whole nervous system with every gulp of his mouth. At first, you had attempted to thrash wildly against him, desperately trying to get away from the agonizing pain. Then, as your body and mind began to feel more tired, more drained, you could only bunch his shirt up tightly in your hands while you whimpered. 

        Every noise you made, Bokuto responded with a small groan or grunt, but his grip never let up, and eventually you couldn’t handle it. For the second time in a span of twenty-four hours or so, you submitted to your aching body and slumped in the vampire’s grip.

Previous  Masterlist  Next

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

BNHA Version

A/N: Good Lordy I went off on Yamaguchi’s… Goddamn. Anyways, I know I haven’t been active like at all lately, but I have nothing new to tell you. Life has just been… hectic lately. Nothing new. Anyways, let’s just call this a seriously late celebration for 800 followers! Seriously, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoy these headcanons as a show of gratitude!

Word count: 1423

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

The “Hero-Villain but you’re a couple in real life” trope.

You both met and got together while filming the show.

Iwa’s the hero, you’re the villain

The fans of the show totally shipped you two from the first episode, but y’all were really new and awkward around each other at that point in time. 

Then you both saw all the ship names and edits and were like damn we look hot together “Eh, let’s give it a shot.”

Cut to y’all falling in love and accidentally giving each other lovey-dovey eyes during filming (the directors have to reshoot the scenes because “You’re supposed to hate each other, come on guys!!”)

Yes, yes, there is a scene where you have to fight each other. 

You legitimately punch Iwaizumi smack dab in the face on accident and freak the fuck out.

“OH FUCK, HAJIME ARE YOU ALIVE?!”

Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but he sees how concerned you are and does that tough guy thing where he pretends like it was nothing. 

“Nah, I’m fine.” When the fuck did you get so strong?!

You know he’s lying, so you capture his face in your palms and kiss his cheek tenderly. 

“Does it feel better now?” 

Oh helllll yeah. “Mmm, not really. Try again.” 

*smooch*

“It still kinda hurts. Another.”

*smooch* 

“Better. One more.”

Just as you lean in to give him one last peck, he grabs your chin and turns you to face him head on before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. 

You’re both lost in the feeling of each other and Iwaizumi can barely feel the pain on his face anymore (but he’s totally gonna use this little incident against you from now on).

“Hey guys, we’re still shooting a scene you know.” 

It’s delayed because both your lips are puffy and you both look blissed out.

Long story short, after plenty of messages, letters, and tweets from fans, the show makes your character turn good so y’all can become a couple in the show as well. (hehe, crowd-pleasers. Ya gotta love ‘em.)

That blooper went viral btw.

Kuroo Tetsurou: 

The “best friends on and off the stage” trope.

First of all, the fucking inside jokes you two have. 

Yeah yeah, the fans shipped you and all that crap, but you two were just friends. 

Pfft, yeah right.

Neither of you are the main character, but your wild actions and sarcastic comments on screen just made the audiences fall in love. 

The chemistry between you two and the easy flow of conversation made people believe in true, destined love. 

All the haughty taughty fans are like “Yeah they’re totally great together but nobody should pressure them into dating otherwise it’ll ruin their relationship uwu!!🥺🥺💔💔” (then these fuckers turn around and write fanfiction like it’s nobody’s business.)

You were legit friends, but the way people viewed you was beginning to make things awkward.

“Haha, here’s another tweet about how we should be together.” Kuroo’s nervously laughing while watching your facial expression for the tiniest sign that you liked it as much as he did while looking at his phone.

“Damn, that’s funny.” You laugh is just as artificially forced and Kuroo observes your face with wide, amazed eyes like Oop, there it is.

I mean, what did you expect? You two have been friends for years, of course he can read you like a book. A book he never wants to put down. Ever. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if the writers took this seriously and actually made us a coup-”

He interrupts your anxious rambling with a kiss. 

It’s just a quick peck, and you gasp in surprise after it happens. Then you smile softly and pull him back in for more. 

Not even a month later, it’s official. You two were caught making out in a toilet paper fort at Walmart by fans. (I honestly don’t know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

ANYWAYS, after you two are outed and shizz, you don’t even care to hide your love, just being connected to each other by the hip everywhere y’all go when you’re not shooting.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re absolutely right. Kuroo does interrupt your scenes by sprinting in like a maniac on the loose and slapping a kiss smack dab on your lips while the cameras are still rolling. 

(It drives the directors up the walls, but the fans love it.)

Yamaguchi Tadashi (this one is umm... a lil 🥵, and long):

The “couple on the show but awkwardly have a crush on each other in real life” trope. 

Even though your relationship is a little rocky in real life, this just makes your capability for passion on the screen even larger. 

You both make up for the uncomfortableness behind the cameras when they’re rolling. 

Firstly, there’s a script, so neither of you are forced to think on your feet. 

Secondly, you’re both experienced actors. But that doesn’t mean you’re great people-people in real life. 

Your characters started as two teens falling in love in high school, then moving on to college together. 

This required a lot of chemistry between the two of you, but it was hard to have it both on and off the set, so you settled for doing your jobs best. 

Of course, when the fans found out you two were all blushy and shy around each other in real life, they went berserk.

It was all like: *posts a picture of you and Yamaguchi blushing* “Look at these two fucking cinnamon rolls🥺 They’re so cute together in (the show), but look how shy these nerds are together in real life. How???”

Yeah, so umm, y’all were feelin’ the pressure. 

Then came the scene. 

Of course, you two had kiss scenes before. With a storyline that deep, of course that was gonna happen. 

But the writers really whammied you two with this one. 

It was a dirty scene 👀

Of course the directors were gonna do that thing where they had architecture and other shit cover up the no-no squares, but still!

You kept telling yourself you were a professional and that you could do this no biggie. But umm…

Jesus FUCK!

Who’d’ve thought Yamaguchi would be that fucking bUiLt.

You distantly remember him saying something about playing volleyball, but GodDAMN

So yeah, y’all get it on. 

First he kisses you, as instructed. 

Then he lays you down on the bed gently, as instructed. 

Then he unclips your bra, as instructed.

Then his pupils flare,... 

Rebellion Located.

His hands crawl up your sides as he begins to nibble on your lip.

Your hands tangle into his olive-colored tufts, tugging and pulling as he grunts into your mouth. 

His long fingers run over your skin in all the right places, and you want more.

“More, Tadashi.”

“CUT!”

The director hops out of his chair and calls for a break. Other workers begin to bumble around the set, adjusting lighting for the next scene, rearranging objects, and writing on clipboards. 

The world around you is suddenly spinning while you’re still trapped in the moment. The fake moment. 

Yamaguchi still hovers over you, looking just as frazzled as you felt. 

For a second he leans closer to your face once more, then he pulls away like you burned him. 

He’s rubbing the back of his neck and blushing, and your cheeks are on fire. 

“Well that was um…”

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement breathlessly. 

Suddenly, he gets up and hands you your previously flung bra and shirt, averting his gaze while you redress. 

While his back faces you, he hesitantly says your name.

“Yeah?”

“D-do you want to g-go on a date sometime?”

… 

Safe to say, months later you two were revealed as a couple, just as the episode aired. 

It didn’t take long for the Sherlock Holmes of your fanbases to put two and two together and figure out just how the relationship went from 0-100 in a matter of days. 

… Yeah, you two will never live that down. Everyone shoves it in your faces any chance they get. But at least they all love you together!

Can I be on the 'Reborn' taglist🥺👉👈

hell yeAHHHHH🤩

uhh hi again 😅 im sorry for requesting again hdhd but is it ok to request another akaash papercrane au? where him and the reader are friends and akaashi believed that if he folds a thousand paper cranes the reader who is sick would get better but in the end when his wish came true his life was taken in exchange for his wish.

Paper Cranes (Akaashi x Reader) 

*GIF not mine*

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

A/N: I’m just out here wondering why y’all wanna be hurt. Like wtf. Anyways, this bitch angsty. Like I seriously hope y’all cry at this, bc boy did I want to. So like, pls feel free to tell me if you did cry, bc then I would feel accomplished. Aight, hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 3725

        There was a… legend, of sorts. 

        If any one person could fold one thousand paper cranes, he or she would be granted a wish. 

        Akaashi had heard this story from his grandmother at a young age, and since then scoffed at the idea. What’s a wish gonna do? And why would he need one?

        He never truly believed in fate, destiny, or any other mystical mumbo jumbos. At least not until he met you. 

                                ~~~

        The swings are the loneliest place on the playground. Only one person can enjoy the ride at the time. If you have someone to push you, you only have a split second every time you swing back toward them to talk or laugh or enjoy each other’s companies. 

        Akaashi found himself there often. He was the quietest kid in his kindergarten class, and though his appearance did make him popular in crowds, he preferred the solitude of the swings. 

        The swings didn’t expect him to be funny. They didn’t expect him to be smart. They didn’t expect him to be perfect. 

        “Hey, can I swing with you?” 

        The swings didn’t- wait, what?

        Akaashi slowed his back-and-forth swaying, lowering his dusty tennis shoes to the bark of the ground to observe who had spoken. 

        It was a girl. A girl he had seen in his class often. The rays of the sun glimmered in her eyes, making them seem magical and kind. Her hands were folded behind her back shyly, and she scuffed the toe of her plastic sandal against her other heel while awaiting his answer. 

        Being confronted by his classmates was nothing new. All the time they came up to him and chattered like mindless lemmings. But Akaashi couldn’t help but gape at this girl in shock. 

        She was the first person to ask. 

        “S-sure.” 

        The young girl gave him a wide smile and crashed down into the swing beside his, already propelling herself to and fro with a kick of her feet. 

        A feeling awoke inside Akaashi in that moment. Competition. 

        Quickly, he bent and locked out his knees, trying to catch up to your pace though you were quite a bit ahead. You giggled and squealed when he swung ahead of you, and cheered victoriously when you blew past him. 

        Breathless. That’s how he felt. There was a glow in his chest, and suddenly he understood why so many other kids enjoyed being around their fellow classmates. 

        Having a friend who enjoyed the same things as him was fun. 

                                ~~~

        “YN!” Akaashi groaned, grimacing at the sight of you dancing victoriously above him. 

        “Look at all this money, Keiji!” You threw the Monopoly dollars in the air, waggling your hips and whooping. “How does it feel to SUCK?” 

        The black haired boy only folded his arms and pushed himself deeper amongst the blankets of the pillow fort. A pout carved onto his face when you began rubbing the fake bills against your cheeks. “Ahh, to be a millionaire. By the way, how’s your bankruptcy?” 

        “Shush, you,” he sulked, grabbing a stray pillow and tossing it at your head. You only dodged and laughed, crashing onto the floor beside him with a large oof. 

        “Ahh c’mon, you know you love me twerp,” you poked the side of his cheek as you laid on your back with a grin. 

        Shaking his head, Akaashi turned his face the other way and hid a small smile. “I can’t believe you were my first friend.”

        “Only ‘cause you sucked at swinging too.”

        “How does one suck at swinging?”

        “I don’t know! How do-”

        “Kids!” Akaashi’s mother interrupted, peeking her head into the fort with a quirk of her lips. “You better get to sleep. It’s almost ten.” 

        “Okay, Mom,” the boy nodded, discreetly jabbing your stomach as soon as she disappeared outside once more. 

        “OW!” you squealed, ruffling his hair in return. 

        The living room grew silent as you both settled in to sleep five minutes later. The excitement had calmed down, and now Akaashi was huddled in a blanket just a few inches away from your own. 

        His heart raced at the idea, and many thoughts flitted through his head. One being… 

        “Hey YN?” 

        You fake snored loudly and Akaashi scoffed, pulling a lock of your hair. 

        “Geez dude, why you always gotta hurt me?” You rolled over, incidentally getting even closer to your friend, and opened your eyes to face him. Akaashi was almost choking at the proximity. 

        With a purse of his lips, he lifted himself on one elbow and scratched the back of his neck. He avidly avoided your gaze as his cheeks tinged pink. “Sorry, I just….”

        You raised a brow. “Yeah…?”

        “We’re gonna stay friends, right? Even when we go to middle school? And even high school?” 

        Akaashi held his breath while you tapped your cheek thoughtfully. “Well, I was actually kinda hoping I could replace you with Godzilla once we got there, but if that doesn’t work out, then I guess so,” you shrugged. 

        He rolled his eyes and licked his lips. “Come on, I’m being serious.” 

        “I am too.”

        “Come on.”

        “All right, all right!” You lifted your hand out from under your blanket and poked him in the cheek once again, a new, nervous habit of yours. “Of course, stupid. We’re gonna be best friends forever. I promise.” 

        You held out your pinkie with a grin, and Akaashi stared at it hesitantly. 

        “Forever?” 

        You nodded, and he gave in, interlocking his last finger with your smaller one. 

        “Yeah, Keiji. Forever.”

                                ~~~

        Volleyball became a huge part of Akaashi’s life in middle school, and even on into high school. 

        “Hey, hey, hey Akaashi! Pass it to me!” 

        But not once did your friendship stray. 

        “It’s yours, Bokuto!”

        Every few seconds, he caught a glimpse of you in the stands. A large grin adorned your face, and you held a personalized sign just for him that you waved frantically any time he scored a point. 

        “GO AKAASHI!!!” Your voice, almost impeded by the overall clamor and volume of the gymnasium, was still fine-tuned in his ears. They perked at the cheer like the first melody of a bird on a bright morning. 

        A quirk of his lips accompanied the call, and he had to shake his head to stay focused on the game. 

        Block this guy’s spike.

        Send the set directly above the net so Bokuto can get a cross-court shot. 

        Where’s Konoha?

        I better send this one to-

        His never ending train of thoughts faltered for a second at the sound of a collective gasp. Nothing amazing had happened on the court, at least not from his point of view. So something must’ve happened in the crowd. 

        Hollers and cheers shifted to low, concerned murmurs. 

        The team on the other side of the net watched the audience in complete shock. 

        What is…

        Akaashi turned around with a crease in his brow and instinctively searched for you.

        You were gone. 

        Nostrils flaring, he slipped under the net to the other side of the court for a better vantage point. The sight shot his heart to pieces. 

        There, on the second level of the gym, collapsed against the plastic bleachers, was your unconscious form. 

                                ~~~

        The fluorescent lights on the ceiling of the hospital buzzed almost silently. And yet, for as long as Akaashi had been there, it was the only sound he could hear. 

        He stood outside your room like a guard dog, keeping his gaze locked on you at all times. 

        Through the glass windows of your room, he watched as your parents hugged you with tear-stained cheeks. You, on the other hand, were emotionless. Your eyes were unfocused, and you didn’t seem to be tuned into reality at the moment. 

        A half an hour passed. Your parents finally let him into the room, and he stepped in almost unwillingly. 

        “Mom, Dad, can… umm… can we have a moment alone?” 

        Your mom almost screeched in denial, but your father swiftly nodded and grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the room. “Of course, sweetie.”

        As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Akaashi gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “So….”

         You seemed to snap out of it and turned to him with blank eyes. Your form was slumped back against the pillows of the hospital bed and you fiddled with the white cotton blanket. A thin, white nightgown covered your body, but it seemed to tremble every few seconds. Or maybe that was you. “Keiji.” 

        He took the cue and scurried to your bedside, grabbing your IV-plugged hand in his own. The pads of his fingers ran over your skin in a comforting manner, but he wasn’t exactly sure if it was helping any. “YN… what-”

        “The doctor said I have like a year.” You sounded so distant, locked away deep inside yourself. Almost confused at what was happening, but you also knew your fate. 

        Akaashi couldn’t breathe. His eyes watered and his brows furrowed and he almost grew angry at your dismissive state. But he couldn’t be mad at you. It wasn’t your fault. 

        “What,” he shakily whispered, whole body rigid, “YN, what happened?”

        “I don’t know,” your voice cracked, and suddenly the facade fell. Or maybe reality finally set in. “They said I’m sick or something and it’s incurable and I’m going to die! Oh God, I’m going to die, Keiji!” You wailed and bawled and cried as much as you could, and Akaashi let his tears flow too. 

        “I don’t wanna die!”

        Akaashi nodded, grimacing and clenching his eyes closed while he sat on your bed and hugged you. 

        “Please, I don’t wanna die!” 

        Your body convulsed in his grasp as you heaved out sobs, afraid of something you couldn’t fight. This was a battle no one could win. This was fate. 

        Akaashi cursed under his breath as he rocked you back and forth, running a hand through your tangled strands before whispering soft reassurances to your deaf ears. 

        You began to cough and hiccup, shoving your face deeper into his soaked shoulder. 

        Nothing could be said. Nothing could be done. 

        The room was tense, filled with utter, uncontrolled fear. 

        Nothing could stop this.

        “Please don’t let me die.” 

        Akaashi’s bloodshot eyes opened in the slightest as an idea hit him. He squeezed you tighter as your sobs slowed to whimpers, and shook his head. I won’t let that happen.

                                ~~~

        “Do you have an eight?”

        “Go fish.”

        “Fuck.”

        “Do you have a king?”

        “...No.”

        “YN.”

        “FINE!” You threw your cards down on the bed with a pout. Akaashi chuckled and gathered up the cards, giving you a smug glance. 

        “What is it you said to me when we were kids? ‘How does it feel to suck?’”

        You stuck out your tongue and batted his teasing hands away before folding your arms. “Shut up,” you muttered. 

        The hospital room was becoming more and more your own. Flowers decorated the windowsill, a couple books sat on the nightstand, and you even had a few folded cranes of Akaashi’s on your headboard. 

        Months had passed, nine to be specific, since you got the diagnosis. Time was running out. 

        “Well, YN, I brought your homework.” Akaashi dug around in his bag before pulling out a stack of assignments. A bright yellow sticky note sat on the top with your name scribbled haphazardly. 

        “You know, Keiji, it’s funny you think I’d actually spend my time doing that instead of, oh I don’t know,” you playfully shrugged, “having fun the rest of my life.” 

        Akaashi gulped but forced his smile to remain steady on his face. For you.

        “I think you should still do it, YN. It’ll keep you smart.” 

        “What smarts am I gonna need when I’m-” 

        “YN please.” Akaashi winced at your recent lax in self-respect. A muscle in his jaw irked at the thought, but his eyes stayed locked on the cranes just above your head. 

        You nodded and softened your gaze. “Sorry, Keiji.” You held out your hands and accepted the papers he handed you. “I’ll try my best on them.”

        “Thank you. And don’t forget to use my notes,” Akaashi added.

        “How could I,” you scoffed. “Half of ‘em are done in glitter pens.” The corner of Akaashi’s mouth quirked up at the thought. 

        “Only ‘cause I know you like them that way.” Akaashi leaned in to give you a hug, pressing a kiss to your hair that he knew you couldn’t feel. Your warmth, the warmth you filled his heart with, made him never want to leave. But he had to. 

        “All right, I have to go, but before I do,” Akaashi dug around in his bag for a second before locating his gift with a sparkle in his eyes. “Here.”

        A blue paper crane was set in your palm, and his fingers brushed yours before he pulled them away. Your body wiggled in happiness at the new addition. 

        “Yay! Another one! How about I call this one…” you trailed off, tapping your chin in thought. Then you pointed your finger in the air in glee. “Perry! What do you think, Keiji?” 

        You reached up and set the crane along with the others while Akaashi nodded in agreement. “It’s perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.” 

        Just as Akaashi stepped away, you grabbed his hand and tugged it to gain his attention once again. 

        “What’s wrong?” 

        You scrutinized his face with narrowed eyes, reaching your hand up and brushing your fingers just above his cheeks. “Keiji?”

        “Hmm?” His eyes were almost closed in bliss, enjoying every spark of exhilaration that came with your touch. He flinched when you patted his cheek roughly. 

        “Get some more sleep at night. You look like shit.” 

        Blue eyes flickering open, he covered your hand with his own and delivered a soft kiss to your palm. “Not in a million years.”

                                ~~~

        Everything around him was fuzzy and blurred. The room was so dim and warm. A wave of exhaustion hit him every two seconds, leaving his head reeling and his ears thumping. 

        And yet, he wouldn’t move. 

        No, not if he couldn’t help it. 

        Papercuts littered his fingers. Scraps and scraps of paper, all shapes, colors and sizes, laid out in front of him, along with one lone whiteboard and marker. 

        The sun was just beginning to rise outside his window, and birds began to stir in their nests. 

        Fuck, he was so tired. His body pleaded with him to close his eyes just once. 

        No. 

        Shuffling of parchment became his new white noise. The pads of his fingers were on fire with every fold and every crease. 

        Then he set the new crane behind him, uncapped the marker and drew a single tick mark. 

        “Eight-hundred and seventy-four,” he muttered with a sigh. 

        Another.

        He grabbed a new page with sore, pained arms, resisting the urge to yawn and starting anew. 

        Fold. Crease. Fold. Crease. Fold. 

        “Eight-hundred and seventy-five.”

                                ~~~

        “Ughhh yesss,” you moaned, licking the sweet stickiness off your fingers. “It’s been too long since I’ve had ice cream.” 

        Akaashi smiled at the sight. Your face had glowed with pure joy when he showed up with your favorite flavor, and you had deadpanned “I love you.”

        It was enough for him. He chuckled into his own bowl before swallowing another spoonful. “What, is the Jello not any good here?”

        You flipped him off and continued downing your cold treat. “Next time they try to force that gelatinous shit down my throat, I’m just gonna hop out the window.” 

        “From the fourth floor?”

        You shrugged. “Why not? I could make it! I’ve seen it in the movies, all you have to do is roll.” 

        Your dark haired friend scoffed at the thought. “Yes, please ‘roll.’ It will be much quicker travel than limping on two broken legs.” 

        You busted out laughing. “See? Now you get it!” Your face was frozen in pure joy as you held your ice cream. 

        This moment made it all worth it. You were beautiful. Completely happy and carefree for the first time in a year. Akaashi didn’t want you to worry anymore. 

        He would only hope that you could find someone to make you laugh like this again once he was gone. He didn’t want you to be alone like he had been before you. You were the light of his life. You made him discover a purpose for living, and you lead him through it. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth if need be. And now was the time to repay you.

        His bag was empty this visit aside from a single slip of paper. It was blue, your favorite color. “It reminds me of your eyes, which are really hot, by the way,” you had said.

        “I did my homework like you asked.” You nodded with complete self-assurance and even held up the assignment. “I might’ve gotten number three wrong though….”

        “That’s okay.” Akaashi set down his bowl and stood up, approaching your bedside with slow, purposeful steps. 

        You were breathtaking at this angle. The sun shined just barely through your room’s window, and lit up your entire face with a single ray. It emphasized the natural glow of life you already had. 

        Yeah, he could do this. For you, he would do anything. 

        When he stopped at your bedside, you shifted under your blankets until your legs hung off the side of the mattress. Completely facing him, you threw him a questioning glance. “What’s up?”

        “Can I kiss you?” 

        He had to at least try. If only once. 

        You stopped breathing and your heart stuttered in your chest. Akaashi could read it all over your flushed face that-- Thank God-- you felt the same way he did. 

        It was a mixture of euphoria and anxiousness that flooded his stomach when you nodded. A shy smile covered your face, and it grew larger the closer he leaned towards you. Then finally, your lips touched. 

        The kiss was soft and slow, with Akaashi’s hands landing on the bed around you to support himself. Your lips were plush and tasted like sugary sweetness, and he snatched up your chin the second you tried to pull away too soon. 

        This second kiss was more passionate, rushed and intoxicating. The fervor of it left you feeling light-headed and breathless. And loved. His lips smashed against your own in a desperation of showing how he felt. It was as if he was making up for lost time, or something opposite of that. 

        And then he pulled away, gasping for air and not regretting a thing. His hand slowly dropped from your chin and fell to your thigh, barely covered by the thin hospital gown. His fingertips, rougher than you remembered, gently massaged your skin, leaving you to sigh happily. 

        His forehead pressed against your own, and smiles were permanently etched on both your faces. 

        “I love you,” Akaashi finally whispered, eyes staring honestly into your own.

        “I love you too,” you pecked his lips once more and he returned it with ease. 

        You stayed like that for so long, just enjoying the feeling and proximity of one another. The air was clear. You loved each other. 

        But now, one of you had to let go.

        Akaashi pulled away slowly with one last peck. While you sat with affectionate eyes watching his every move, he dug in his bag and pulled out a slip of paper. 

        “You write me a letter or something?” you teased. 

        “This is better than any letter I could write you, love, trust me.” Akaashi threw you a soft smile before settling onto the bed beside you. 

        You watched in utter fascination as folded and pressed the paper with skilled fingers. 

        “Wow, Keiji, you’re so good at that!” You let a hand hover over his own and stop the process for a second. “How long have you been practicing?” 

        Akaashi froze in an instant, but quickly rolled his shoulders and relaxed his form, leaning himself closer to your presence. “Quite a while now, but I did it for you.” 

        You beamed at him, tears pricking your eyes. “Keiji….” With a small, disbelieving shake of your head, you pressed your lips to his own just one more time. This time as a thank you. 

        Then you urged him to continue with a slight wave of your hand. 

        And he did so. 

        Fold. Crease. Fold. Crease. Fold. 

        And at last, the final product. A single paper crane of gorgeous blue, just like his eyes. 

        “YN.”

        “Hmm?”

        Akaashi hands you the crane and stares deeply into your eyes. “I love you.” 

        “I love you too.” 

        “And I wish for your life to be spared. At the expense of my own.” 

        “What?” You giggle in confusion, growing more and more concerned as Akaashi’s eyes seem to flutter. 

        Then they close for one last time. 

        “Keiji?” 

        His body slumps back, falling like dead weight to the mattress of your hospital bed. 

        “Keiji?!”

        You were afraid. So afraid. 

        “Keiji, what did you do?” you mumble breathlessly, wide eyes locked on him. On his body. 

        “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” 

        Gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest, leaving your whole form trembling. 

        “KEIJI!” Your blood-curdling screams led crowds of nurses to your room, but they could never pull you away. You, keeled over Akaashi’s lifeless form, refused to move even an inch. You hugged him close, wailing and wailing against his unmoving chest. Incoherent moans scratch your throat as you rock him back and forth, whispering I love yous one last time.

        The legend was uncomplicated, but so painfully real.

        A thousand paper cranes. One wish. 

        And Akaashi’s wish was simple. A life for a life. 

        Him. For you.

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

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

Breakup Prank (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)

Setter Version (Part 2)

A/N: Lordy I forgot how annoying it is to post on mobile🙄 also ignore the time stamps👀 enjoy!

Kenma, Kageyama, Akaashi

Please work on a pt. 2 to the Luna Hunt or a series in general its so good I beg off u. I would love to see where things go with them and her father and the new queen and king

ahhhhh yeah the whole father storyline like i dont even know where to go with that

hate it when my reader's flimsy purpose to escape comes back to bite me in the booty like ouch now i gotta work with that plot strand. luna hunt is def the most requested for a second part and i swear i hear u i just haven't read this genre in so long i dont even know where to start.

scratch that, i know exactly hwere to start, i just dont know where to go after that. we'll see maybe one day ill think of smth

Hi, could I be added to the reborn taglist please ? Apparently I enjoy crying :’)

Definitely! I like crying too🤷‍♀️ But, I just wanna warn all of you that are preparing for the next chapter of Reborn that I’m kind of stuck. I have found a fatal flaw in my writing for this series, so I’m gonna take a little time on developing the story before I make my next chapter. I’m really sorry guys😔 but thank you so much for the support!💜

If your still adding people to the reborn tag list, may I be added plz?👉👈

Yep! You’ll be on the taglist (btw, I love all the lil comments you leave on my posts🥰🥰)