Y/n's POV
I woke up to the sound of wind howling softly against glass. The room was dim, the soft glow of warm lamps casting long shadows against stone walls. Stone. Not cement. Not plaster. Real stone. The walls were too smooth, too perfect crafted with intention. Just like everything else in this nightmare.
The bed beneath me was too soft. The blankets too warm. It was all too gentle to be real. Like waking up inside a gilded cage.
I sat up slowly, my head still thick and groggy from whatever sedative they had pumped into me. The room around me was spacious, almost regal. Wooden beams lined the ceiling.
Thick velvet curtains were drawn halfway over a tall window. A bookshelf stood against the far wall, stocked with titles I recognized...my favorites.
"Morning, sunshine."
I turned sharply, pain shooting through my neck. Kuroo stood at the doorway, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, his usual smirk glued to his face.
"Or afternoon," he corrected, glancing at his watch. "Time flies when you're... asleep."
"Where am I?" My voice cracked like splintering glass.
"Home," he said softly, stepping inside. "Your new one."
I stared at him, hating the way the word clung to my skin like oil.
"You drugged me. You tied me up. You kidnapped me! This...this isn't love."
He placed the cup on the nightstand beside me and crouched down, his eyes boring into mine. "Love is messy, kitten. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it's ugly. But it's still love."
"You don't get to define that for me."
"You're right," he said too quickly, too smoothly. "But we will show you. All of us."
My heart pounded harder. "Where are the others?"
As if on cue, the door creaked open again. One by one, they filed in.
Oikawa, holding a box of pastries. Bokuto, arms crossed, looking strangely sheepish. Suna with a blanket folded in his arms. Terushima leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning me like he was memorizing every expression. Atsumu smirked but didn't speak. Osamu came in last, closing the door behind them.
"We decided," Semi began, his voice softer than usual, "that this would be your room. Your space. You don't leave unless you want to. No locks."
"No cages," Bokuto added, but his voice cracked slightly.
"Just... us," Oikawa said, walking over to set the pastry box beside the tea.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I felt like a prisoner being handed silk cuffs.
"You're free," Suna said simply, placing the blanket at the edge of the bed. "Just not free to leave."
My throat tightened. "That's not freedom. That's just a prettier kind of prison."
"Maybe," Terushima murmured. "But at least here, you don't have to pretend. You don't have to lie to yourself anymore."
"I wasn't pretending," I snapped. "I was surviving."
"Then let us help you survive differently," Osamu said.
There was a silence that filled the room like thick fog.
"You can't just make me love you," I whispered, the words like acid.
"We don't want to make you," Kuroo said after a pause. "We want you to remember."
I looked up, frowning. "Remember what?"
"What it felt like," Atsumu finished, his voice almost reverent, "to be ours."
The air in the room changed. Thickened. A heat, heavy and possessive, hung between them. They stared at me not like I was a person, but like I was something divine. Precious. Worshipped. Owned.
"Every laugh you gave," Bokuto said suddenly, stepping closer, "every smile even if it wasn't for us we memorized them. Replayed them. They belong to us now."
"You think we didn't notice when someone else looked at you for too long?" Oikawa's voice was silk, dangerous underneath. "The way your eyes crinkled, the way you tilted your head when you listened. God, it drove me insane."
"We kept track," Suna said coldly. "Every single person who talked to you for more than two minutes. We knew their schedules. Their routines. Just in case."
"In case of what?" I breathed, the words trembling out of me.
"In case they needed to disappear," Terushima said with a soft smile. "Permanently."
My blood ran cold. I opened my mouth to speak, but Semi cut in, his gaze soft but unshakable. "You're everything, Y/n. You always were. The way you walked, the way you frowned when you were focused, the way you smelled after gym class… every piece of you has lived in our heads rent-free for years."
"You think you were just another student?" Atsumu said with a dry laugh. "We watched you like a religion."
Osamu took a step forward, kneeling beside my bed. "I know your coffee order. I memorized it. I've made it for you here, exactly how you like it. Every morning, from now on."
"I carved your initials on my bat," Bokuto admitted, voice low. "Even when I was benched. I told the coach it was for 'luck.' But it wasn't. It was for you."
"I fought someone in the hallway just because they made you laugh," Oikawa said, his eyes glazed with obsession. "It wasn't even a good joke."
"I used to record your voice in class," Suna added bluntly. "You talk so softly sometimes, and I didn't want to forget any of it."
I couldn't breathe.
"You don't have to love us now," Kuroo said, brushing a thumb across the back of my hand. I flinched. He didn't stop. "But you will. You'll feel it..what we feel. Eventually, it'll consume you too."
"Because that's what soulmates do," Terushima whispered from the doorway, his head tilted like a boy dreaming about the stars. "They bleed into each other."
My vision blurred, either from panic or tears...I wasn't sure.
"You're already ours," Osamu murmured, reaching to gently tuck the blanket tighter around me, as if I'd been shivering. "We're just waiting for you to realize it."
"And if you try to run?" Atsumu smiled, sharp and vicious. "We'll find you. Every time. Again and again."
"You don't have to pretend, Y/n," Kuroo said, voice low and lethal. "We see it in your eyes already. The fear. The fire. The need. You're not just ours... we're yours too."
"We belong to you," Semi added softly. "Body. Mind. Soul. We'll prove it. Every day. Until your name is carved into every piece of us."
The door creaked again as they all slowly began to leave, one by one. A reverent silence followed. Before the door shut fully, Oikawa looked back at me and said quietly
"Sleep well, princess. We'll be watching."
••__________________________••
I didn't sleep.
Even when the sun began to rise, painting the stone walls in soft golden hues, I stared at the ceiling like it might give me answers. My body was tired, but my mind, my heart was too loud, too fast, too afraid.
The door opened as the clock chimed seven.
Osamu entered first this time, with a calm smile and a tray cradled in his hands. The scent of garlic butter and seared meat filled the room instantly.
Behind him came the others, in perfect sync.
Kuroo pulled open the curtains, flooding the room with light. Bokuto carried a crystal pitcher of orange juice. Terushima wheeled in a second cart, gleaming silver lids hiding what I could only assume were more indulgent dishes. Suna, Oikawa, Semi, Atsumu they followed quietly, their eyes never leaving me.
"Good morning, angel," Oikawa purred.
"We brought you breakfast," Osamu said, carefully placing the tray on the table beside me. "Your favorite. Steak, seasoned just right. Fresh fruit. Brioche toast with vanilla cream. We made it just for you."
"You didn't eat last night," Bokuto added, looking concerned, almost heartbroken. "You must be starving."
"You'll feel better once you eat," Semi encouraged, his hand brushing my shoulder. "Food heals everything."
I sat up slowly, my muscles aching from how still I'd been. My throat was dry, but I clenched my jaw. I didn't look at the tray.
"I'm not eating," I said, voice hoarse but steady.
They froze.
"Kitten," Kuroo stepped forward. "We tasted everything beforehand. There's nothing in it. Just food."
"I don't want your food," I snapped, glaring at the perfectly plated steak. "I don't want any of this."
There was a pause tight and uncomfortable.
"You're just scared," Terushima whispered. "That's okay. We'll feed you if we have to."
"I'm not a pet," I hissed.
"No," Suna said, almost gently. "You're a god. And gods deserve to be worshipped."
"Then stop forcing me," I growled.
Atsumu chuckled darkly, crossing his arms. "We're not forcing. We're offering. Don't turn your nose up at something made with love."
"It's not love if it's an obsession," I snapped.
"But it is love," Bokuto muttered, almost to himself. "It has to be. It's all we've ever felt."
Osamu slowly knelt beside the bed again, holding a fork delicately between his fingers. "Just one bite, Y/n. Please. You'll see how much we care."
I slapped the fork from his hand.
The metal clattered to the floor. The room is still.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Oikawa moved, not angry but almost… broken.
"Don't reject us," he said, voice dangerously soft. "We've given you everything. Everything. And you still act like we're the villains."
"You are," I spat. "You kidnapped me. You drugged me. You act like I'm something you can own."
"You are," Kuroo said, stepping closer again. "And one day, you'll thank us for it."
"I'd rather starve."
"You won't," Atsumu whispered. "We'd never allow it."
Suna's eyes were dark as shadows as he approached with quiet intensity. "If we have to spoon-feed you ourselves, we will. Every meal. Every day. Every bite."
"I'll choke," I said coldly.
"Then we'll learn to breathe for you," Terushima murmured with a terrifying softness. "Even if it kills us."
"I hate you," I whispered.
"You can," Semi said with a tragic smile. "You can hate us for now. Just don't think that'll make us love you any less."
They didn't force-feed me that morning.
But they sat there.
Every one of them.
Watching.
Waiting.
Like wolves around a shrine starving not for food, but for the moment I'd finally give in.