#and some people ordered the book on the first day of class or before and they still haven’t gotten it

[limarieb]

so high school

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Growing up, you could never understand how people your age were so romantically interested in other people. You begin to understand for the first time, however, when you encounter a certain Sokovian during your first semester of university.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, college!au, friends (?) to lovers, college au, making out, slight angst (but not really)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author's Note: everyone say thank you taylor swift for the spontaneous new fic! also this is lightly proofread, so edits might be made later oops

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Growing up, you never truly dated anyone. Sure, you had crushes on fictional characters in the media you consumed, and you allotted arguably too much time to admiring celebrities online; but, you never saw anyone in your personal life in such a light. At various hangouts and sleepovers over the years, you noticed just how much your friends discussed their love lives. Hushed whispers and sighs of the same phrase, “I really like them,” flooded your ears in the hallways at school. You had originally tried to join in on the conversations, not wanting to be excluded, but you simply couldn't engage in them wholeheartedly; eventually, the inability to relate began to upset you. You naturally boiled it down to something that must have been wrong with you — how could it possibly be normal to be like this when everyone else around you seemed to share these romantic sentiments?

Thankfully, you became completely preoccupied, both mentally and physically, by the prospect of university. By the time your junior year of high school had started, your love life — or lack thereof — no longer held too much importance to you. Instead of keeping whimsical love letters on your desk like others your age did, you opted to pile various books. From Camus to Aristotle, you discovered a deep fascination and affinity to the field of philosophy and the metaphysical discussions it posed. Therefore, when your senior year had arrived, you threw yourself head first into your studies, determined to build up your application in order to get into a top university.

After accepting your offer into one of the best philosophy programs in the nation, you anticipated your time at university, daydreaming about all of the things you would study and all of the people you would meet there.

But never could you have anticipated someone like Wanda Maximoff.

You had met her during one of your introductory courses in your first semester. Wanda was the type of person that, upon first glance, you would be scared. Not just because she was undeniably pretty, but she also had this stone cold exterior to her. Her lips were permanently etched into a slight frown, and she never really showed too much expression while she spoke during class. To put it simply, she intimidated you; so, you settled on admiring the brunette from afar (two seats up, one to the left — if you were to be specific).

Your plans changed, however, after the two of you got assigned to be partners for a class project. It was just a presentation, but it required you both to meet outside of class to work on it. You would be a liar if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of seeing Wanda outside of these four walls of your classroom, even if it was just to work on this assignment.

Seemingly unbothered by it all, she gave you her number for you to set up a date and time to meet. Her messages were all business, but they still made you feel like a dopey teenager every time her name showed up on your screen.

The day quickly came for you both to work on the presentation. Ultimately, you had settled on the two of you meeting in your dorm, which you made sure to deep clean before she came. You were not necessarily messy by any means, but the idea of Wanda, the most daunting person you could imagine, stepping into the safe space of your room made your blood run cold for some reason.

As Wanda knocked on your door, you rushed to open it. The two of you stood face to face for a moment, divided only by the doorframe. She still had her typical frown, but you noticed it shift into the slight uptick of a smirk. After a moment had passed, she finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna let me in, or...?" she asked, teasing you and your awkward nature.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stepped aside for her to enter, "Oh, right... Sorry."

You led her to your side of the room, where she stood for a moment analyzing all of your possessions. You felt small as she did so, like a tiny insect under a bright, unsettling microscope.

She suddenly turned to face you, dropping her bag on the floor, "So, are we gonna work on this or not?"

That is how you found yourself on the floor, her laying on her back and you on your stomach. You had your computer in front of you, typing furiously as she provided you the words and ideas. You glanced over at her every now and then, especially if she was being awfully silent.

Most times, she would just be looking up at the ceiling in thought, her brown hair sprawled in random patterns underneath her; however, after a particularly long bought of silence, you looked over at her to find her gaze directly on you. You quickly returned your eyes to the screen of your computer and began typing whatever came to your mind. You hoped she did not notice the blush rise to your face.

She did.

She sighed, turning her body to lay completely facing you. "You're very quiet, you know," she stated, closely observing your reactions highlighted by the light of your screen.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply say, "So I've been told."

"Oh," she exclaimed, her smirk from earlier returns. "She has jokes."

You hum in agreement, "Just a few, unfortunately."

With the project now finished, the two of you abandoned it in favor of simply talking to each other. Never would you have guessed that Wanda could be this... warm. Unlike what you had witnessed in the classroom, she was very friendly and sarcastic in the privacy of your dorm.

You discovered a lot of information about the brunette during this conversation, such as how she loved coffee but only if its iced, how she never loved texting (preferring to call or talk in-person) but will do so if she must, how she immigrated with her twin brother from Sokovia when they were children. As she recounted her memories from Sokovia, you could hear the accent she once had poking through the surface; although, you did not point it out, afraid it was an insecurity of hers. Maybe you would tell her another time how nice it sounded, but for now, you bonded with her about collecting CDs and vinyl records from various artists.

While the two of you casually spoke, all you could think about was her — how pretty she was under the dimmed lighting of your dorm, how every joke she told was the epitome of humor, how much you wanted to stay in this moment with her. She was perfect.

Is this what people were talking about in high school?

As the night came to an inevitable end, you found yourself feeling quite sad, for you no longer had an excuse to hang out with Wanda. Though she had her number, you did not have the confidence to use it and ask if she wanted to meet up again.

You did not have to worry too much about it. As she packed her belongings back into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, she spoke, "You know, you're pretty cool, Y/N."

You tried to hide the shock caused by her words, "Thank you, I think?"

She chuckled lowly, "My friends are having this thing at my place this weekend, if you wanted to join?"

Your head perked up, eyes blinking rapidly in shock. Unable to deny her offer, you nodded, "Yeah, sure... okay."

“Great,” she replied, walking toward your door. You followed behind her and reached around to open for her. She smiled at the gesture before speaking again, “I’ll text you later with the details and everything. See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you,” you returned. As you closed door behind her, you feel your mind finally catch up to reality: you, the stereotype of a nerd with very few friends, are going to hang out with Wanda and her friends.

You close your eyes, leaning your head onto the back of the door. “Oh, shit,” you whisper aloud into the open air. What have you just gotten yourself into?

Decoding your own thoughts and feelings about the Sokovian in the days leading up to your next class had revealed just how infatuated you had become; yet, you didn't even know how to act upon them. For years, you had only observed romantic behaviors from the outside looking in, whether it be through your friends' dating experiences or the words on a page from whichever sapphic novel you had picked to read. Now that you finally found yourself in the loop, what were you supposed to do?

Should you message her about whatever? No, that would come across as needy and overbearing.

What if you found her after class and ask to hang out again? No, that's even more overbearing than the text message.

The internal war waged on, resulting in your mind and body being paralyzed out of anxiety. For now, you have settled on simply waiting for her message regarding this weekend and presenting your assignment with her this week during class.

Days later, you walked into the class, practically shaking from your nerves about the presentation and the girl that you had to present with (who had just so happened to become your first teenage crush over the span of weeks).

You sat down in your unofficially assigned seat. Being so focused on the way your leg bounced repeatedly, you failed to notice the familiar brunette enter the classroom. Instead of sitting in her typical seat, however, she dropped her bag on the floor by the seat directly next to you.

Wanda instantly noted your nervous demeanor. While she had her own anxieties regarding the presentation and such, hers remained within her mind. She never showed such things outwardly, unless she was with someone with who she felt undeniably comfortable expressing those thoughts.

She slid into the seat and reached over to place her hand on your bouncing leg. Immediately, you noticed the feeling of someone's hand, breaking the chain of your anxious thoughts; upon glancing to your side, you discovered the culprit: Wanda.

"Hey," she started. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Unable to find the words currently, you opted to remain silent, but you provide her with a uncertain nod in return. With a squeeze of her hand as a final attempt at reassurance, she placed her hand back within her lap and waited for the class to begin.

As always, Wanda was right. Your presentation went well; there were a few instances of stumbling words on your part, but otherwise it went great.

When the two of you returned to your seats, she leaned over and muttered under her breath for you to hear, "Told you so."

As you began to do your typical nighttime routine that evening, you heard your phone go off. Unsuspecting to who it was, you tapped on the screen under the assumption that it was just another email added to your overflowing inbox. You were wrong yet again.

Wanda: hey y/n !! are you still able to make it to the thing this weekend?? its gonna be on saturday at my place... lmk !!

You stared at the message for a moment before confirming you would still be in attendance, of course. Was it normal for your heart rate to speed up this much from mere words on a screen?

Saturday night rolled around quicker than you had anticipated. It was almost time to leave, yet you were currently standing still in your pajamas, surrounded by the miscellaneous clothing items you had thrown around. Ultimately, you had settled on the outfit you had first chosen, resulting in a bunch of unnecessary cleaning afterwards.

When you arrived to her place, you promptly knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door creaked open to reveal the Sokovian. Her outfit was considerably more casual than others you had seen her wear around campus. She stood in front of you, adorned with an oversized band tee and jeans; her fingers were still littered with her usual assortment of rings. However, the thing that surprised you the most was her lack of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Tonight she seemed to have abandoned her typical heavy eyeliner and rose-colored shade of lipstick, choosing to only use her mascara and some chapstick.

"Sorry for the jumpscare," Wanda joked, her nose scrunched in amusement from your reaction. She continued to explain, "I know I'm dressed down compared to class. I just don't like putting in the effort to get ready sometimes, especially to just hang out with friends."

"No!" you exclaimed, quickly trying to backtrack the way she took your shocked expression. "No, you're fine. You're beautiful, actually, I just- I was just surprised to see you without the eyeliner and all."

Her cheeks became flushed at the compliment, but you seemed to miss it being overly concerned with your own response. She chuckled at your awkwardness, "Thanks. Oh, you can come in, by the way. I think everyone is here now."

She introduced you to each friend, after which you gave an insecure wave in return.

As the night progressed, you gradually loosened up. Whether it was time or the alcohol in your bloodstream, it frankly did not matter to you. You were not drunk by any means but definitely buzzed enough to not worry about every single decision you made. You even talked to one of Wanda's friends, Natasha, for awhile without the Sokovian present (given that she had left to use the restroom, but it still counts in your mind).

Suddenly, you were sat on the floor, playing childish party games with the others. It was fun, you couldn't lie... until it wasn't. You had already survived Truth or Dare, but someone (Tony) had suggested Spin the Bottle. With no romantic history, it was practically a given that you subsequently had not kissed anyone yet. For your first kiss to be during a stupid game of Spin the Bottle would be depressing; but, you didn't want to be the loser who said no to playing because the reason would be too humiliating to explain.

So, you elected to power through the hesitation, hoping the bottle just would not land on you.

At first, you were confident. The game was now three rounds in, and you remained lucky.

Eventually, the group had noted your lack of participation and had chosen to give you a "free spin." You silently prayed it would at least land on someone with whom you had become somewhat acquainted. With a shaky hand, you reached forward, spinning the emptied beer bottle. In the moment, it felt like the bottle would never stop spinning, but, once it did, it felt like time froze altogether.

It landed on Wanda.

Though you liked the brunette, you truly did not want your first kiss to be this way, especially with her.

She instantly noticed your apprehension. Turning to where Tony sat in the circle, she offered, "Hey, what if we did a hybrid of this and Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

Your eyes widened at the question, feeling unsure about all of this.

With a smirk on his face, Tony agreed, "I like the way you think, Maximoff. Alright, new girl, go follow Maximoff, and don't have too much fun while you're gone."

Before walking off with Wanda to the nearest bathroom, she briefly turned around to aim her middle finger at the boy. Though you were extremely overcome with anxiety about what was about to occur in the bathroom, you released a chuckle at her response.

She pulled you into the bathroom, flipping the lights on. As the door clicked shut, you faced her with your back against the wall.

"So, um, what are we supposed to do?" you asked.

"We don't have to do anything, Y/N," she replied, leaning against the bathroom counter. "I just noticed you weren't very comfortable with the idea of kissing me out there, so I improvised a little bit."

"Oh, okay," you breathed out. "Just for the record, it was not the idea of kissing you that made me uncomfortable. You- You're cool, so, it's fine."

Wanda tilted her head in curiosity, clearly not expecting that response. "Oh?" she questioned. "What was it then? Because I could clearly tell you were not very comfortable in there... I mean, you were visibly stiff."

"It's not you, I just..." you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"'It's not you, it's me'?" she joked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes! No! I mean..." you exhaled. "It's not that the idea of kissing you makes me uncomfortable because, believe me, it very much doesn't. I just- I've never done this before."

The blood rushed to your cheeks during your admission. You felt utterly embarrassed, wishing you could just be back in your dorm in this moment.

"Y/N," she called softly. Despite every ounce of your body screaming at you to not do so, you returned your gaze to the Sokovian. "Do you want to kiss me?"

You couldn't read her tone. A part of you was nervous, maybe this was all some sick joke between her and her friends; yet, the other part of you was thrilled by the proposition alone.

"I wouldn't oppose," you muttered, automatically employing humor as your defense mechanism.

Wanda rolled her eyes at your antics, "Ok, then, let's play a new game." She looked down at her phone, checking the time. "We have less than four minutes in here."

Confused by the sudden change, you acquiesced in her request, "Okay?"

She stepped closer to you, standing a foot away.

Her tongue escaped her mouth, briefly licking her lips, before she proposed, "Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected question, but you attempted to recover in order to return her playful energy, "Can I choose all three?"

Her eyebrow had risen, the infamous smirk forming on her lips. Slowly, she inched closer and closer to you until you could feel her breath on your skin. One hand found refuge on your hip, while the other she brought to the side of your face. She used her fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear then cradled your face. You licked your own lips and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then, you felt it. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and slowly as if she were testing the waters. It was only a peck, but you swear your heart burst from the experience.

A moment passed before she pulled away enough for her to speak.

"Was that okay?" she inquired, ensuring you were still interested in this.

"More than," you affirmed.

She smiled, "Good, because we still have a few minutes left, and I intend to use them."

Without another second, she connected your lips once again. This time was different, however; there was a newfound fervor behind it. Her kisses started slow like the initial pace, gradually becoming quicker and deeper. Uncertain about what to exactly do, you continue to follow her lead. You felt her slide her tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. How could you ever deny her that? As her tongue began to clumsily caress with yours, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it and kept kissing her.

A knock at the door pulled you both back into reality.

"Time's up, lovebirds," the voice called. "Clothes better be on and straightened when you leave."

Wanda chuckled at her friend's words and bit her lip. For the first time, you think you see her outwardly nervous. She swallowed as she shifted her gaze from your lips to meet your eyes, "Hey, I um- I hope this wasn't a one time thing."

You sighed in relief, "With you? Never."

She leaned forward once more, placing a final peck on your lips before grabbing your hand to return to the circle. Instead of your prior placements on the floor, in which she sat on the other end, Wanda refused to let go of your hand, instead pulling you to where she had been sitting.

Thankfully, no one mentioned how your cheeks were now incredibly plagued with a pink hue, allowing the game to continue onward.

After the group decided to finish playing games and turn on a movie, you followed Wanda to the couch in order to sit next to her. As soon as you found your place at the end of the sofa, she gravitated closer, leaning into your side. Her head rested on your shoulder as if you both had been close for years.

The movie American Pie started playing, all of her friends too engrossed in it to note how the two of you were cuddled up together. She picked her head up from its place on your shoulder. You didn't think too much of it, imagining her neck must have simply gotten uncomfortable in that position.

However, she turned her head to face you, taking in the sight of you and her friends all hanging out and watching a movie. Unable to resist herself any longer, she leaned in closer, her breath hitting your ear as she whispered to you, "I can't focus on the movie. All I can think about is kissing you right now."

You rotated your head to face her, biting your lip at her words. "Shush, your friends are here," you quietly argued, but you were secretly enjoying her antics. You peered over her shoulder, observing her friends who sat quietly with their attentions fully focused on the film.

Wanda pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck prior to returning to its original position on your shoulder. You sighed at the feeling of her affection, wondering if it would linger forever.

Soon enough, the movie ended, and it was time to go home for the night. Her friends had left moments ago, but not without saying how you should "come around more often." Honestly, you were deeply excited that you received their approval, especially after the recent developments with Wanda.

You stayed behind for a little, attempting to garner as much alone time with Wanda as you could without being interrupted.

With the others now gone, you allowed Wanda to be more affectionate; or rather, you allowed her to give in to her desires and kiss you again, and again, and again.

After the final peck, you pulled away with the cheesiest smile and swollen lips. She loved seeing you this way: giddy and carefree.

"I really like you, Wanda," you proclaimed with a sigh, effectively breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. "Like, a lot."

"I really like you, too," she replied. "You know, in case it got lost in translation with the kissing and everything."

You playfully slapped the side of her arm. "I'm serious," you started. "You make me feel so... high school."

She raised her brow, gesturing for you to continue.

You resumed, "I never felt like this, especially during high school. For a while, I actually thought something was wrong with me." Her lips formed a slight pout at your past conflict. "I was always so... jealous of others my age, having all of these teenage experiences with crushes and romance. Since I never did, I just assumed that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. It was isolating; it felt like some inside joke that everyone else knew about except me. But, I'm happy I waited, truthfully, because now I can experience all of those high school feelings with you."

End.

#limarieb #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #marvel imagines #limarieb wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff

[after-witch]

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up. 

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away. 

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs. 

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life. 

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season. 

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner. 

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes. 

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New  York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’ 

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic. 

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces. 

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind,  you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running. 

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep. 

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking. 

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild. 

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way. 

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket. 

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.” 

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right? 

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. 

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway. 

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he? 

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark. 

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another,  you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week. 

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you. 

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place.  “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.” 

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested. 

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected. 

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe? 

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.” 

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way. 

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story. 

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no. 

So you give it. 

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

--

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes. 

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness. 

Jake Jensen died screaming.

--

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night. 

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.” 

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse. 

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night. 

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too. 

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.” 

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.” 

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place. 

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream. 

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them. 

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger. 

“There--look! Look!” 

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts. 

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.” 

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand. 

Chrollo smiles. 

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do? 

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all. 

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind. 

--

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me? 

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth. 

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

--

Saturday:

Three people are dead. 

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But…  dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd. 

Yet now, in one morning, there are three. 

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad. 

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight. 

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

--

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days. 

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date. 

Fuck. 

“Daydreaming again?” 

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school. 

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?” 

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way. 

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.” 

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news. 

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game. 

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival. 

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes. 

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again. 

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him? 

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose. 

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!” 

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look. 

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit. 

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all. 

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you. 

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights. 

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says. 

--

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay. 

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind. 

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes. 

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you. 

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest. 

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival. 

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening. 

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it? 

You ask him, this time. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

--

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags. 

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water. 

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it.  “The waterfall adds a nice touch.” 

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess. 

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled. 

“It came highly recommended.” 

--

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex. 

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room. 

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand. 

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in  your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note. 

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong.  That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that.  You just know. 

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all. 

--

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused. 

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t). 

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that. 

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural. 

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify. 

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.” 

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you. 

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments. 

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue. 

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game. 

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming. 

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.” 

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.” 

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

--

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all. 

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense. 

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.” 

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken. 

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him. 

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway.  You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway. 

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.” 

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach. 

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd. 

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust. 

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do? 

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving. 

--

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t. 

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms. 

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?” 

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?” 

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police. 

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.” 

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving. 

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic. 

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch. 

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage. 

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve. 

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood. 

That’s not all he hit.  The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies. 

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!” 

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you. 

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?” 

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach. 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!” 

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there. 

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch. 

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck. 

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires. 

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide.  But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years. 

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you. 

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away. 

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason,  you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway. 

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope. 

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below. 

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways. 

All of them have blood around their mouths. 

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up. 

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now. 

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs. 

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises. 

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow. 

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm. 

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man. 

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment.  Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is: 

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers. 

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material. 

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all. 

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while. 

He’s a vampire. 

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically. 

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy. 

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?” 

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin. 

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.” 

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.” 

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts. 

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole. 

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s. 

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.” 

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him? 

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper. 

“Like. Hell.” 

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered. 

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire? 

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground. 

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not. 

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this. 

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once. 

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping. 

“F…fuck you.” 

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood. 

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment. 

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up. 

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them. 

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water. 

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.” 

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick. 

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper. 

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy.  “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous. 

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t. 

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely. 

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes. 

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand.  Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood. 

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too? 

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway? 

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over. 

--

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open. 

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch  and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think. 

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood. 

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run? 

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help. 

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find? 

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry. 

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry. 

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.” 

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--” 

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film. 

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort. 

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?” 

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness. 

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you. 

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down. 

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up,  you find that you simply can’t make your body do it.  You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this. 

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down. 

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world. 

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference. 

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes #this fic is my baby /wraps it in a blanket

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH BLUE LOCK BOYS

ft. isagi yoichi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, nagi seishiro, & chigiri hyoma

tags. highschool au, established relationships, gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. just some cheesy highschool romance! sorry they're a little short, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless ^_^

ISAGI plans a date after school, and he cannot stop thinking about it throughout the whole school day. from when school starts to the final release bell. jumping for joy when it finally rings. he immediately sprints to your class to come pick you up, and the two of you begin walking to your destination. he takes you on a date to a nearby café that had a valentine's event going on. the café is decked out in an obscene amount of pink and red decorations that would've made your head hurt if there were more. of course, he lets you order whatever you like and pays for it. (he also feeds you whatever you ordered with a big grin on his face) afterwards, he surprises you with a flower bouquet and whatever you've been ranting about wanting for the past few months. an absolute sweetheart!

REO puts his gift into a large box. why? it's too large to the point where you can't fit it into your locker, so it forces you to carry it around all day so that everyone will know you're his. writes “from: reo” in big letters on all sides of the box so people can see from every angle. yeah, reo has been planning this for the past few months. honestly, the box is so big to the point that it's a little embarrassing to bring it into your classes, and some of your teachers question you. he makes it up to you because of how amazing his gift was. a bouquet with your favorite flowers, a stuffed animal, a gorgeous and one-of-a kind necklace, and a photo book with memories from the very beginning of your relationship. spoils you with lots of kisses all over your face as well.

RIN shyly buys one of those valentine's day candy grams that a club is selling. and no, it is absolutely not because he's scared to give it to you directly. just kidding, he is. this was the first time he was actually giving something to someone for valentine's day and he did not want to mess it up, so to be safe he decided to buy one and have the club deliver it. after you receive it though, he immediately runs to your class, asking if you liked it. he mumbles an apology for not giving it to you face to face, but you pull him into a kiss to reassure him that it was more than okay.

NAGI conveniently has first period with you, so he takes this to his full advantage. arrives to school earlier than you and puts his plan into action. bangs politely knocks on the classroom door before the teacher hesitantly lets him in 2 minutes later, and puts a shit ton of things on your desk. places a stuffed animal on your seat, a basket with your favorite snacks (with the addition of a few valentine's themed candies), and a heartfelt (and surprisingly neat) letter. nagi patiently waits for you to walk in. staring at the door and being disappointed when someone walks in and it's not you. when you finally arrive though, he is holding back a smile and looks away nonchalantly, acting like you had not walked into class. you make your way to your desk, already seeing the various gifts on your desk before placing your gift for nagi on his desk. he finally lets the breath out that he didn't know he was holding, and gives you a bear hug. (you almost sit on the plushie on your seat because of how small it was)

CHIGIRI dramatically sighs when you greet him in the morning with a smile on your face and a gift bag in your hand. why did he sigh dramatically, you ask? in your mind, you thought it was obvious that you two would be each other's valentine since you are dating, so you never formally asked him. yes, chigiri could've easily taken things into his own hands and asked you, but he chickened out every time he was going to ask you. yes, he could've just texted you, but he believed that was the wimpy way out. you give him a puzzled look as you hand him your gift, asking him what was up. he looks down as he mumbles, “youdidn'taskmetobeyourvalentine..” as he rubs the back of his neck. you laugh before you give him a smile and say, “chigiri, we've been together for a while. i thought it was a given that we were each other's valentine.”

inspired by this prompt list <3

#blue lock x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri hyoma #blue lock #blue lock fluff

[wandasaura]

END UP DREAMING INSTEAD OF SLEEPING

summary — you can’t hate her with your eyes closed, so falling asleep against her chest definitely can’t be held against you… right?

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, domestic fluff w/ the cutest lawyer!wives and their bratty baby. this entire thing is just straight fluff, you horndogs need a timeout

authors note — here’s a little blurb for you, it was originally requested on ao3 !! it’s not much, just some wholesome fluff with our favorite ‘enemies’

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

Natasha was properly exhausted, and the redness in her eyes spoke to that fact. Her sluggish footsteps carried her toward the front door at a snail's pace, and dragging her suitcase up the driveway had never felt like such a difficult task. Beneath the blanket of nightfall, the lawyer questioned if potential theft was worth leaving the luggage abandoned beside Wanda’s car in favor of walking into the house empty-handed, but had persisted with her motions when she decided she’d rather not have to go through the process of ordering yet another set of suitcases. Nobody would ever know how she came to have such misfortune with checking bags at the airport, but the running list of lost luggage was long and quite funny to people who weren’t her. 

Being away for two weeks had felt like torture, and she was more then glad to be back in the space she created with her wife. Seeing your car in the driveway parked behind hers had been an additional bonus. Wanda had relayed very minimal information regarding the events that had led to you spending your nights and days off in Westview, which meant that whatever happened would certainly piss her off, but despite the knowledge of something upsetting you while she was away, it was comforting to know that both of her girls were waiting for her return in the same space. 

Natasha struggled to find her keys when she finally made it to the front door, and with greuling efforts she had only barely managed to get the lock to turn on her first try when she’d finally located her keyring in the second smallest pocket of her crossbody bag. The entryway was dark, much like the rest of the house, but the softest glow of light came from a lamp in the living room that hadn’t been turned off. Wanda was meticulous about turning everything off before she went to bed, and if she ever had the slightest inquisition about having forgotten, she made rounds through the house to assure nothing had been overseen on her first pass. Leaving the suitcase beside the door, Natasha followed the kiss of light that projected shadows against the wall. 

Even though the light was dim, one they used sparingly when a good book captured their attention and the length of sunlight was minimal, the silhouettes of two bodies were easily identifiable. Wanda sat curled up against the arm of the couch, her legs folded beneath her body with her chin propped up against the palm of her hand. You were burrowed into her side, your face pressed into her neck and hiding from the peaks of light that tried to stir you awake. Natasha felt her heart skip at the sight of you so content with one another, knowing that something must have gone right to lead to this tender moment. 

“Natalia?” Wanda shifted at the echo of footsteps that hadn’t lingered through the house in fourteen days, her lips pulling into a sleep-riddled grin when she made out the distinct appearance of her wife dressed in comfortable black loungewear. 

Natasha laughed softly at the expression on her wifes face, stepping close enough to lay a kiss against the crown of her head. “Privet dorogaya.” 

“She wanted to wait for you. Poor thing was out within the first twenty minutes.” Wanda looked down at you, smiling at the easy way about your features when they weren’t riddled with stress and sadness. Classes had taken their toll on you, but as you fell into a dream that Wanda could only hope was good, there was an undeniable youth to your features. “I missed you.” She pulled Natasha down to her lips, humming in bliss when the recently returned lawyer returned the embrace. 

“Missed you too. I almost killed Tony on the third day.” Natasha deflated against Wanda, and the Sokovian only laughed softly, knowing that fact was more than accurate. It was honestly surprising he hadn’t done something to tick off the Russian earlier. “I’m gonna take a shower. Meet me in bed?” 

“I’ll be waiting, Mrs. Maximoff.” Wanda winked, watching Natasha retreat up the stairs, and minutes later the telltale sound of the shower running filled the house that had existed in near complete silence since the day she left. Wanda didn’t move from the couch, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you at her side before the peace was interrupted. When you stirred, trying to find a more comfortable position and ultimately failing, you groaned in annoyance. “Morning, sleepyhead.” 

“No. Goodnight.” You pressed your face into Wanda’s neck, covering the side of your face with your palm as even the close contact couldn’t completely coat you in craved for darkness. 

Wanda laughed at your attempt to find sleep, but she didn’t allow you to succeed. She sat up straight, subsequently causing your body to twist at an awkward angle that would only be soothed if you shifted position too. You sighed, rubbing sleep from your eyes, deciding that it wasn’t going to be coming over you again for at least another handful of minutes. 

“Is Natty home?” You perked up, hearing the shower running upstairs. 

Wanda smirked at your delayed realization, nodding her head in the direction of the stairs. “Mmhm. Come on, she came in a couple minutes ago.” 

You followed the Sokovian up the stairs, pointedly ignoring the embarrassment that settled across your cheeks when you sleepily stumbled into the wall after miscalculating the distance to the door of their bedroom. You flopped against the bed the second you were close enough, claiming your rightful position in the middle of the blankets. 

“Getting comfy now, are we?” Wanda laughed at your eagerness to settle into her bed, but she hadn’t expected the night to unfold any differently, though your impromptu cuddle session on the couch had not been a wrench she’d expected to see thrown into those plans. 

You didn’t cuddle back into her chest when she laid down in the bed beside you, but you didn’t shuffle away from her either. Your legs touched beneath the heavy white blanket that was pulled up over your shoulders, an eager smile on your lips as you heard the shower water turn off and Natasha mumbling beneath her breath as she fumbled through drawers and cabinets. 

“Two weeks away and she’s forgotten where she put her hairbrush.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was no trace of annoyance in her features as she watched the door with the same amount of excitement as you. 

When Natasha did reappear, dressed in a different set of loungewear and with her red waves cascading down her back in a dampened state, you wiggled closer to Wanda and patted the open space beside you. Little words were spoken, but nothing needed to be said when your bright smile spoke a million inexpressible feelings. Happy to be home, Natasha took full advantage of having both you and Wanda with her. She pulled you flush against her back, restraining your movement, but you had missed her heavy arm being thrown around your waist as you slept so you didn’t protest. Her fingers twisted into Wanda’s like they’d never truly belong anywhere else, and with full darkness surrounding the room, you fell back to sleep. 

“I love you.” Natasha whispered to Wanda, stroking the woman’s knuckles with the calloused pad of her thumb. 

“I love you too, moya lyubov’.” 

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

[dilfl0v3rss]

heyyy can you do a smut with ony where we graduated college and he spoils us😼make it nastttttttyyyy

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND BOO. ORDER UPPPPP🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

reward

cw: smuttt

word count: 2k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

college was nowhere near as easy as it seemed in the movies. there were times where you felt like you were on top of the world and there were times where you were ready to drop out and never touch a book again. through it all ony was there for you, watching you struggle and succeed on different occasions. when it came to you graduating, proud was a complete understatement on how he felt.

it wasn’t often for people around him to even go to college let alone graduate, so to see his girl, his smart girl not only graduate, but finish at the top of her class made him ready to spoil you rotten for the day.

“baby you didn’t…” the first gift on the list was a brand new car. even tho your boyfriend didn’t go to college, that didn’t stop him from making a whole bunch of money, using his knowledge on herbalogy and horticulture to become one of the most successful drug dealers in your area. “congratulations pretty girl. you deserve it.” you ran into ony’s awaiting arms, tears of joy soaking his polo tee as you squeezed the life out of him.

“m’so proud of you mama. you did what many people couldn’t and i know you gon be a real successful lady in the near future. you only go up from here baby.” you lifted your head to look up at your boyfriend. ony gave you a small smile before leading you into your shared apartment. you were instantly met with a living room full of different gifts. all coming in different shapes and sizes ranging from an apple watch to a birkin bag.

when you finished opened all the gifts in sight, you started to stand up but were lightly stopped by his hand on your shoulder. “y’got one more thing to unwrap” eyes reverting back to the numerous amounts of opened gifts on the couch. “hmm? where? i thought i got it all?” ony chuckled before sitting you down on the sofa. “listen mama….you know i love you more than anything. you my whole world and some more, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

you gave your boyfriend a confused look as you let him continue with his speech. he better not be breaking up with you the day of your graduation. “stop lookin’ at me like that. m’not leaving you…ever. it’s just…” ony couldn’t find the words to express how much he loved you so he decided to just cut to the chase. removing his shirt fully to reveal his inked chest. on his left pec sat your name in red ink. this didn’t surprise you since you went with him to get it, having a matching one on your chest as well.

but as you took a longer look at his body you noticed it. on his side sat the an exact replica of a picture of your eyes, staring back as you softly. quiet gasp left you lips, but before you can speak ony turned the side of his head to show you the imprint of your lips behind his ear. “i thought you’d notice it in the car, but you was too busy crying.” he chuckled before standing to his full height and showing you his back.

down his spine sat your birthday written in roman numerals. “had t’get this one a earlier than the other two so i can still fuck you tonight.” your eyes widened at your boyfriends comment. turning around before giving you a sly smirk. “why not do it now?” the two of you were expected at your parents house for your graduation party, but in all honesty, you didn’t even want to go.

you laid your hand on his dick print that was easily recognized through his pants. ony smiled at you before lifting you off the couch, holding your thighs in his hands as he walked the two of you to your shared bedroom. “was hoping you said that.” you practically jumped out his arms at the sight of your room. rose petals decorated your bed with even more gifts on top of them. the lights were dim, letting the electric candles illuminate the room with their small bright lights.

“you like it? i wanted to use regular candles, but ian wanna leave em lit while i was gone so i got the-” you cut off his rambling with a kiss. immediately deepening it by pushing your tongue in his mouth. “i love it papa.” ony smiled as he backed you up onto the bed, moving your gifts out of the way before laying you down on your back.

“you’ll open em later.” he kissed from your neck to your chest before removing the straps of your dress from you shoulders and pulling it off you completely. continuing his trail all the way to your aching core before swiping a finger from your entrance up to your clit. your gasp made ony smirk as he kissed your pussy through your panties. “ughh stop teasing baby i wanna- aaughh.”

your complaint was cut off by a slap on your thigh. brown eyes warning you before ony finally pulled your panties off. “this my pussy so ima take my time wit her.” leaving no room for interjection, he entered two of his thick fingers in your entrance. back arching off the bed instantly as a lewd moan flew from your lips. your lover continued his work with his fingers while bringing his lips to your clit, licking and sucking the bud to bring you more pleasure.

“mmm fuck fuck fuckkk.” your wetness made squelching sounds occur before ony removed his fingers. using his long tongue to lick around your pussy before entering inside of you, filling the emptiness that his fingers left. “ooouuu daddy…f-feel so go-oood.” his hands moved to your breasts, rubbing and squeezing them with his muscular arms at your sides, trapping you.

ony looked at you through his lashes, lightly humping his dick on the mattress at the sight. mouth agape as your back and neck were arched off the bed. your much smaller hands were laid on top of his, scratching and squeezing at his flesh because of the pleasure he was giving you. “m’finna cum ony please.” his long tongue fucked you faster, occasionally moving up towards your clit, flicking his tongue roughly to bring you closer to your end.

ony didn’t reply to you as he kept pleasuring you rougher. you opened your mouth, a silent scream being released as your essence rushed out if you. he had no problem cleaning it all up before sitting up on his knees. you were too in a daze to watch him remove his clothes, but you knew he was naked when you felt his body on top of yours. chest rubbing right against yours as he lined up his dick with your entrance.

“ready baby?” ony whispered as you braced yourself by holding onto his back. “y-yes” you say shyly. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his thick tip begin to sink into you. he gave you all eight inches of him until the two of you were almost body to body. pace starting off slow and progressing with each passing minute. ony sucked hickies onto your neck as you wrapped your legs around his torso, coaxing him to go deeper.

“fuck you feel so good” your walls spasmed around him at his deep voice, making you whine as he kept stroking your tightening walls. “i-it’s t-to much papa” you slid your hand from his back to his abs, lightly pushing him away to stake off your quick orgasm. ony’s lips turned downward into a frown as he felt you stopping him. “y/n? what’s wrong baby?”

you shook your head, turning away from his stare. another sigh left your boyfriends lips as he lightly grabbed the bottom of your face and turned it towards him. “you gon cum?” you nodded. “that’s okay mama you cum as much as you want. you deserve it.”

ony’s hips slammed into yours, making you scream as he started pounding into you at a fast pace. hips slamming into you relentlessly as your back arched off the bed. “you love dis dick don’t you baby?” you moaned out a yes as the two of you joined hands. squeezing his tightly as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you again. “b-baby i-”

“i know mama, i know. let it all out.” with that your second orgasm of the night was released. warm cream surrounding the base of his dick while he continued to stroke inside of you. “there you go. good fucking girl.” ony leaned back from you, grabbing one of your legs to lift over his shoulder while using his other hand to rub quick circles around your clit.

your mouth opened in a silent scream as you felt a tight coil in your stomach. “o-ohhh my go-oddd.” brown pupils nowhere to be seen as they rolled to the back of your skull. his dick was hitting parts of you that could never reached on your own and you were loving every second of it. “give daddy another one baby. i know you want to.” anklet dangled by his ear as ony kissed the diamond charm that was in the shape of his initial.

he then moved his lips to your pretty feet. pink tongue swirling around your white painted toes as he stared you down lovingly. the sight of him made your pussy flutter as the coil in your stomach began to snap. “m’gonna cum againnn.” ony smiled, pushing down your stomach so he can feel where he is. “give it to daddy sweetheart. i feel it.”

your back arched off the bed, legs shaking as you began to squirt. ony pulled out of you before letting your leg down. “lay on your side mama.” you obeyed your boyfriends command, letting him lift your leg and slide back into you while the two of you laid on your side.

“mmfuckk onyyy” the feeling of him sliding back into you made you shiver. making your walls instantly clench around him. his hips moved softly as he made constant glances to your face to make sure you’re feeling alright. his slender fingers lightly gripped your chin before turning your head towards him. “gimme a kiss.” the two of your lips connected in a sloppy kiss. spit connecting the two of you each time one of you pulled away for air.

ony’s hips began snapping into you, feeding you harder, deeper strokes that made you struggle to kiss him back. your moans filled his mouth as he kept his lips on yours. “uhh huh. taking me so well mama.” he groaned as he felt his release coming. hand holding your leg up while his other was snuggly wrapped around your neck. “m’so proud of you y/n. so so proud.”

his words went in one ear and out the other. your mind in a dickdrunk daze as you felt his lips meet your neck. sucking and biting lightly on the skin to mark you. “mmhm l-love you too” ony chuckled at your fucked out state, deciding it was time to let you rest. his thrusts picked up speed, making your back arch into him as you screamed at the pleasure. “ahhggghh f-f-fuckkk. m’cummin daddy.”

“gon head. daddy’s here mama.” the both of you came together. hot cum rushing into you as your cream built up around him. your releases mixing together as they both leaked out of you. ony pulled out of you, checking on you to only find that you were already falling asleep. he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. making his way to the bathroom to start running your bath.

he carried you to the tub, bathing you and massaging and sore spots you may have from your previous activities. “cmon baby i need you to open the rest of your gifts.” ony said as he shook some energy into you. he carried you to your bed, his t shirt draped over your figure as he began handing you each bag. little did you know the biggest gift of them all sat in his bedside drawer. small black box with a diamond engagement ring waiting patiently to be presented to you.

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #aot smut #onyankopon x black!reader

[mondaymelon]

when they first fell in love with you. ♡

(sumeru genshin impact males x gn!reader)

written headcanon style! enjoy ✩

(a/n) might be writing a part two of this with tighnari and some other male genshin characters so please comment which characters you would like to see! thank you for reading ♡

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

cyno ♡

he was never the emotional man, at least not around other people. but to you, he was just the hobby-chasing mahamatra who liked to play card games religiously.

the two of you met a long time ago, years before, during his time at the academia. The two of you had the same biology class. over the course of half a semester and more than a few group projects, you could say the two of you had grown relatively close.

close enough that cyno, being cyno, was comfortable enough to tell always tell you his most terrible jokes.

"hey. why did the biologist break up with the physicist?"

you had stared at him quizzically, not sure if this was a test or an actual question about the work, but replied anyway. "what?"

"they... had no chemistry."

"..."

"do you get it - because like chemistry is a subject of science and biologists study the science of life and we're in science class and-"

he'll never forget the way you laughed that day. the way your serious expression faded into one trying to hold back laughter, and the way your lips curved upwards instantly... he felt his heart skip a beat as you let out a quiet giggle under your breath. he didn't know why or what, but a wave of affection swept over him, almost engulfing him completely before he reeled it back, face tinted red.

"hehe, you're funny, cyno." you had told him, smiling sweetly, still struggling to mute your laughs.

"am i?" cynos crimson eyes were wide as he looked at you with a look of surprise.

"mhm!" you nodded at him, beaming. "oh, are you free after school today? we should meet up to do the homework."

cyno hid his face from you then, face burning and flushed red as he mumbled out a response. "i'm free."

"great!" you slid him a slip of paper, torn off of your biology worksheet. "i figured you should have my number. don't forget to text me, okay?"

"i won't."

and he kept his word.

al haitham ♡

it all happened after the school announced an academia-wide field trip to the desert, quite the far trek in hindsight. you were surprised the school even agreed to it. that aside, the entire school was excited about it, especially to people who had moved from the sandy dunes to the lively rainforest in order to study at the academia.

however, al haitham, your literature class partner, had stayed silent. you glanced at him several times throughout the entire day, but his expression didn't change one bit, nor did he even look from his book.

"al haitham." you called out his name, eyes sparkling curiously. "what are you reading?"

"a comprehensive look at sumeru's last 300 years." his answer was short and quick. you whistled, impressed that he was willingly reading such a text.

"are you going on the field trip?" you questioned, wanting to ask but not wanting to annoy him.

"i see no reason not to." yet another blatant answer. he turned the page absent-mindingly, eyes trailing from sentence to sentence. you decided to let him read, not wanting to bother him more than you already had.

just then, a group of students walked into the room, bustling about loudly and chatting amongst themselves not too quietly at all. if they noticed the two of you, they certainly didn't care. they laughed and shouted some more before taking the tables next to where the two of you sat and continued to squawk about.

you caught al haitham wincing at the noise, mutely noting the fact that he had taken off his headphones. you never realized the ashen-haired man had sensitive hearing, but now a lot more things made sense- especially the fact that haitham never ate lunch, like the other students, in the cafeteria.

hesitantly, you reached up and cupped your hands over al haitham's exposed ears. "is it too loud?" you whispered as quietly as you could, hoping that al haitham wouldn't be bothered by your question.

as you glanced down at his expression, his look of astoundment startled you. his emerald eyes sparkled with a look of tenderness that you would've expected as he gazed up at you, his diamond shaped pupils staring up at you and you only.

then, so subtle you almost missed it, he whispered, face flushed:

"thank you."

kaveh ♡

kaveh was always a friendly person, and that was certainly not an exception when it came to you. after a class, he would always burst into the room and come to walk you to your next one.

it come to a point where you would wait for him to show up after the lecture ended, purposely packing up your things slower as you scanned the door for any signs of the blonde man. and he always showed up.

always.

except, then he didn't. you waited until the students of the next hour began to come in, and then waited more until you were sure you were already late. yet, he still didn't show up. worry began gnawing at your stomach as you fidgeted through all of your classes that day, mind cloudy.

and he wasn't there the day after that, either. you missed his presence, his sunny demeanor, and his blushing reaction whenever you decided to tease him.

after about a week of the constant torture, he showed up again, grinning and raising his hand as if he was expecting a wave after your design class.

and you didn't just give him a wave. you dropped all your things instantly, eyes wide and teary, and leaped onto the man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground as you gave him the tightest hug you could manage.

underneath you, kaveh let out a shout of surprise, trying to get you off of him so he could get up, but he wouldn't budge. and he glanced down at you, confused at what had gotten you so worked up, he spotted glistening tears spilling down your face.

"wh-what's happened?" he questioned with a worried expression as he helped you up, tears still running down from your eyes. "did someone hurt you? who was it??"

"idiot..." you leaned against his figure, burying your face into his chest, not caring if you were to be late or not. "you left without a word...!"

"i-i'm sorry-!" kaveh glanced down at your figure clinging onto him, face flushed as his heart pounded so loud that he was sure you would be able to hear it. "i caught a cold..."

"don't leave me again like that, okay??"

"o-okay."

wanderer ♡

you had known him for a long time now, you would've admitted if you had no other choice but to be truthful. but it was a hopeless thing, since never once did he ever seem to notice you - much less care about you or your wellbeing.

at least he had never outright told you that he disliked your presence. it was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

so it was a surprise when he showed up at your doorstep, clothes and hair drenched from the relentless rain outside. he stared at the ground sheepishly, expression embarrassed as he spoke. "i... i didn't have anywhere else to go."

"oh." you had stood there for quite a bit, mouth rounded and eyes wide before returning to your senses. "you can come inside. i'll get you a towel."

the dark-haired man nodded silently, stepping outside as drops of water fell from the sides of his hat. you halted, whipping around. "leave that on the porch."

"but-"

"it's wet. it's going to be no help when we try to get you dry." seeing scaramouche's face fall, you cleared your throat. "but if you must, you can leave it in the mudroom."

"...alright."

you weren't even sure why he was sitting in your living room, a towel around him and sitting on your couch by the fireside, slowly sipping a hot mug of tea. he didn't seem to be thinking of speaking anytime soon, so you did it in his place.

"did you need something?" you questioned him after taking a long sip from your own mug.

"no, i just..." he shook his head. "can i stay here? just for a little while longer?"

the softness in his voice startled you, but you managed to give him an answer without stuttering either way. "you can stay for however long you want." at your response, you saw the male's eyes light up, along with his face flushing a bit too, an action that was not gone unnoticed.

"...i appreciate it. i want you to know that i really do. thank you."

masterlist ✩ next

#mondaymelon #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham headcanons #genshin alhaitham #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh headcanons #genshin cyno #cyno headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #scaramouche headcanons #wanderer headcanons #genshin oneshots

[captain-joongz]

A little show

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: uni au, pure smut with a dash of plot, some fluff, strangers to lovers

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: Who knew that getting off in the uni bathroom to get away from the world's most boring lecture could lead to getting absolutely railed by a cute postgrad student... but third time's the charm, right?

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, masturbation in a public bathroom, sex in a public bathroom (for once they're even using condoms lol), yoongi is a little shit but he'll rock your world, dirty talk, slight choking kink, dom-ish yoongi, who am i kidding he's a fucking beast, fingering, backshots, rough sex, some begging, biting and marking, they literally don't talk to each once before fucking

A/N: oof this was totally unplanned but i cannot be held responsible for anything after seeing the d-day concert movie, this is all yoongi's fault. also it ends surprisingly fluffy for the filth that's contained within

credit for the divider to @saradika-graphics, thank you so much <3

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself awake while the lecturer droned on, his nervous slightly stuttering voice carrying through the classroom and lulling everyone into a half-asleep haze. Every Tuesday I had to sit through 90 minutes of this man stumbling through every topic, trying to connect with the classroom full of people while anxiously stepping around the whiteboard projecting his presentation.

I was fully understanding, this was his first year teaching and he still hasn’t shaken off the stage fright, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I had never enrolled into this class and rather spent the time doing literally anything else. It didn’t help that it was an afternoon lecture, dragging on until 5PM, which was usually the time I was already completely fried.

I looked around, noting the other students similarly fighting off sleep or browsing internet on their notebooks, some valiantly still trying to keep their attention on the lecturer and failing miserably. I watched the girl in the row in front of me order a cute sweater, deliberating between two colours for about ten minutes before choosing strawberry pink. I approved.

My body was screaming from being bent over the desk in my boredom, back bent so crooked when I straightened out it cracked vertebra after vertebra like a xylophone from nightmares. I sighed, squirmed around, checked the time. Only 5 minutes have passed since I last looked. I barely suppressed a groan. I couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, leaning back then pressing forward, folding and unfolding my legs, just trying to find a comfortable position to spend the next 40 minutes in and failing.

After 5 more minutes I reached a boiling point, playing with the thought of just booking it halfway through, but instead my unoccupied brain started entertaining itself by slipping into a territory that it deemed more fun. I started thinking about what I’d rather be doing, where I’d rather be, flushing slightly from embarrassment but surrendering to these thoughts as they presented at least some form of entertainment.

I made it barely 10 minutes before I was so painfully wet and aroused I definitely couldn’t make it through the lecture anymore. I had to do something about it, now.

I wasn’t shy about the fact that I occasionally enjoyed wanking in some more public spaces like bathrooms, the thrill of someone possibly coming in and having to keep quiet was getting to me. I didn’t indulge in it often, just when I got really bored and my brain immediately went to “let’s get off to entertain ourselves” instead of doing something normal like other people, just when I was sure there was only a slight chance of someone actually coming across me.

But thinking all that, I realised I’d never taken such liberty while I was in the uni building, probably just thinking about getting out of there as quickly as possible, but fuck, this lecture was getting to me. Somehow it felt more morally wrong than some other random ass places, but I deliberated on it. We were in a secluded corner of the building, it was really high and there was no elevator, the classrooms were smaller and above there was construction going on, which resulted in this place usually being totally deserted except for those unlucky souls that still had lectures here. I was pretty sure there was no other class going on here right now and the chance of someone from here going to the bathroom at the same time was slim.

On a whim I decided to take the risk, my body heating up knowing I was about to give in to the need. I quickly stood up, grabbed my phone and made my way outside. The hall was empty except for a single guy sitting by a table directly across from the bathroom door, but I figured it would be fine. He was wearing headphones anyway, head bobbing to a beat I couldn’t hear and fingers nimbly clicking something on his laptop and toying with the mouse. I slipped past him quietly and went straight for the bathroom door.

Inside was quiet, as if cut off from the outside world, the only two toilets both empty and door wide open. I went to the further one, not that it made much difference with how small the room was, but it still made me feel a little better.

With the door closed and locked for better feeling of security, the excitement finally got the better of me and I rushed to stick my hand into my skirt to pull down my tights and panties, fingers immediately finding the slick folds.

I bent over, the stall small enough to allow me to lean on my elbow on one wall while my ass pressed into the other, fingers going straight for my clit and wasting no time in pressing on it and circling it desperately. Quiet sighs of pleasure spilled from my lips, body trembling with pleasure heightened by the fact I was in a public space.

I barely even touched myself and I could already feel how fucked out I was getting, knees shaking and the pleasure mounting dangerously fast. In my mind I imagined myself bent over the toilet and a warm presence behind me, getting fucked good, strong hands gripping my waist hard, pulling me back on the cock like a toy while telling me to shut up, laughing at me while I bit my fist trying not to let the whole university know how good I was feeling.

My orgasm was approaching embarrassingly quickly, the pad of my finger furiously toying with my clit while my knees were shaking with the mounting pressure waiting to snap. I was so wet I felt my juices dripping down my thighs, dripping onto my hand and making my finger slip all the time as I tried to get myself to cum as fast as possible.

That didn’t seem to be that hard as I could already feel myself hurling towards the edge, cunt spasming around nothing, desperately wishing to be filled, as my ass pressed harder into the wall and my back arched. I could feel a little cramp starting up in my wrist, but I didn’t let up, keeping the pace on my clit as I felt the start of an intense orgasm, the sensation bursting through me like a tornado and I let out a moan muffled into the crook of my elbow. My knees buckled with the force of it and thank god that I was still leaning on the wall otherwise I would have for sure fallen down.

My whole body relaxed, thighs and knees still shaking as I tried to get my breathing back under control. The bathroom was suddenly eerily quiet now that there wasn’t blood rushing through my ears and I wasn’t blinded by my own ecstasy, and I flushed in embarrassment but still couldn’t stop myself from a little joyful giggle leaving my lips in breathless wonder.

I took my time getting myself back into order, cleaning myself up and righting my clothes again. I was in there for only about 15 minutes, so there was no reason to rush. I did notice that my legs had a little boneless swagger to them as I suddenly went from high strung in boredom to perhaps a little too relaxed, a stupid little grin pulling at my lips as I swayed my hips leisurely.

But that changed the moment I walked back out onto the hall. The second I was out of the bathroom I immediately found myself in direct eye contact with the sole student sitting out there. I only had a second to note he was very attractive before I realised he was watching me with the air of amusement, eyes darkening and a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back and gave me a once over.

I flushed under his heavy gaze, freezing like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he knew what I’d been doing in there, something in my demeanour must have given me away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes lingering on my hands clutched together before amused grin set onto his face.

I broke out from the daze suddenly and set into motion again, escaping his hungry eyes and entertained aura, hurriedly scurrying back into the classroom where I sat stewing in my own shame for the rest of the lecture.

When I walked back out after we were dismissed, the hall was empty, to my great relief.

“Come on, you should come tomorrow at least for a little bit,” Jungkook whined, pouting at me and hands tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I gave him an unimpressed look, firmly resistant to his charms, which probably made me the only person in the world that was capable of that.

“I told you Kookie, I’m not feeling it this week,” I said for the fifteenth time that day, “Maybe next time.” The dance major cutely stomped his foot and tugged on my sleeve again. His wild hair flailed around with the wind, probably getting into his eyes, but he ignored it in favour of annoying me.

“But the next party won’t be for god knows how long,” he whined, giving me his ultimate puppy eyes and blinking cutely, “Come on Y/N, you need to let go a little.” Now, I would lie if I wasn’t swayed a little bit, but the exhaustion was weighing on me and I was looking forward to just having a quiet evening in ignoring all of my responsibilities and pretending I have no essays due and there aren’t any deadlines I was missing.

“I’m sorry Kook,” I softened my tone a little to convey I truly was apologetic, smiling at him gently, “I promise I will definitely go to the next party.” The man brightened and straightened out, letting go of me and setting out on the sidewalk leading out of the campus.

“I have your word! No takebacks!” he shouted excitedly and I ran after him laughing. I knew he wouldn’t let me forget it, so I just resigned myself to going to the next party even though I quite disliked them. I had nothing against partying, but I just preferred to go clubbing and dancing, not spend my evening sitting on a stained couch in someone’s living room listening to total strangers get zoinked out of their minds and talk about assignments. But I would go for Kookie. Just once though.

We walked side by side for a moment, just enjoying the awakening spring. It was still pretty cold outside, but the sun shone more often and the temperatures were enough to wear just a light jacket instead of coats with shawls, so I soaked in the atmosphere. People were beginning to filter outside, sitting around on the green grass, talking and studying, and it was nice to see.

Looking around I suddenly froze, standing still in the middle of the path while Kook continued for a few more strides before he realised I wasn’t following. He gave me a confused look, but I was already fighting an embarrassed blush and didn’t pay him much mind.

On the grass by a big tree was quite a familiar looking student, his long wavy dark hair similarly pushed around by the wind as he bobbed his head to music presumably playing in his headphones. He was wearing all black, standing out as a sore thumb in contrast with the green lit up by sun, but he was fully engrossed in his laptop and paid no attention to anything going on around him.

“Hey Kookie,” I called out to my friend, finally looking at him, “Do you know who that guy is?” I discreetly pointed in the man’s direction, hoping I wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention by being a fucking weirdo. Jungkook was a social butterfly despite his shyness and he seemed to know half the university (probably a side effect of hanging out with Jimin all the time), even people from majors that had nothing in common with his, so I was pretty confident he would be able to correctly identify the menace of my life.

“Who?” he started confusedly looking around, eyes jumping around the students just living their lives. I tried pointing again, hoping he would see where I meant without having to outstretch my arm fully. “There, that guy in the black sitting under that tree.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally locked onto his figure and a recognition immediately lit up his face. I chuckled. Of course he did know him.

“Oh sure!” he exclaimed, “that’s Yoongi hyung. He’s a little bit university famous.” I looked at him in shock and then glanced back to the expressionless man sitting on the lawn.

“Famous? Famous how?” I pressed for more info, this time it was me who way playing up the cute act, hanging onto Jungkook’s arm and batting my eyelashes at him. He gave me an amused smile, seeing right through me.

“Well, he’s handsome and yet cool and mysterious, girls love that shit,” Kook played it up, flipping his hair sassily and fluttering his lashes, making me scoff at him amusedly, “Plus he’s a rapper and sometimes performs in the local clubs and bars, so he’s pretty popular.” I turned us away from the black-clad student who was still unaware of anything going on around him and pulled us back onto the path.

“I see,” I hummed noncommittally, not giving him any indication of why I would suddenly ask about Yoongi, but based on the amused looks Kookie was giving me, he must have had an inkling why the sudden interest.

“He’s actually in the same year as Joonie hyung, they’re interning together at the same studio,” Jungkook continued, keeping his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. I hummed again, not saying anything anymore and just sending him teasing looks.

“If you come to the party tomorrow, Yoongi’s for sure gonna be there,” Kookie mentioned seemingly casually, watching me out of the corner of his eyes as he pretended he didn’t care mischievously.

I only shot him a glare and pulled on his arm, leading us out of the campus towards the café where we were supposed to meet Jimin and Tae, Kookie’s friends who graciously adopted me into the group after I got befriended by the shy giant.

For the rest of the afternoon I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, his lips pulled into a barely concealed smile as he fought the impulse to tease me in front of the boys about what he must have thought was an embarrassing crush on the school’s resident heartthrob. I ostentatiously ignored him, only shooting him warning glares here and there to which he always responded with shit-eating grins. Jimin and Tae kept giving us confused and entertained glances but ultimately decided against asking what was going on, much to my relief.

God, if they only knew the truth about why Yoongi even was on my radar in the first place.

The next Tuesday I walked into the classroom again, fully determined to sit through the whole lecture and not move even an inch from my seat. This time I chose a chair in the back, where I could comfortably be on my phone and distract myself from the thoughts of last week, from the attractive man and his smirks. I wondered whether he was sitting there again today, listening to what I now assumed was his own music, laid-back and effortlessly hot. I began to squirm in my seat again, but I quickly tempered it down, scolding myself gently for having such a one-track mind.

Once again I made it through an hour and with 30 minutes left, I began to face a crisis. The boredom was getting to me and I needed to use the toilet, my bladder screaming for help and making me shift around on my chair in discomfort. I thought that I couldn’t really face the bathroom without getting extremely embarrassed, but in the end I lost the battle to nature and got up.

Only, stepping onto the hall, I looked up and lo and behold, there he was – Yoongi sitting peacefully by the window and clicking away on his computer, his big black headphones firmly on as always. The movement by the door must have registered at the corner of his field of vision and he eagerly looked up.

The moment his eyes laid on my figure, frozen once again in the hallway and heating up under his stare, he smirked widely like he won the lottery, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the chair. With his gaze following my every movement I hurried into the bathroom, cheeks blushing and knees turning into jelly.

On instinct I went to the furthest stall and locked the door behind me shakily. Having taken care of my business I paced the stall nervously, already feeling myself bend under the tension. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, knowing Yoongi was sitting outside fully aware of the nature of my little trip last week, but his demeanour, the winning smirk and dark eyes made me want to break that promise.

Embarrassingly enough, I could already feel myself getting wet again and I begun to lose the conviction to just walk away and go sit back into the classroom for another terrible 30 minutes. The thoughts of Yoongi waiting in the hallway, hungrily watching the bathroom door and thinking about me with my hand up my skirt were getting to me and I finally broke.

Swiftly pulling down my tights and underwear I didn’t waste anymore time in sticking my fingers between my folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing the swollen bud begging for attention. I couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans of pleasure, my body hyper-sensitive and the lust coursing through my body more intense than I could remember ever feeling.

It didn’t take long before I was choking on the moans I desperately tried to stifle on my arm, knees shaking and close to buckling and pussy clenching on nothing, feeling so empty and so desperate for anything I was losing my mind.

And if I was deliriously cumming on my fingers only a moment later while imagining Yoongi fucking me roughly in the uni bathroom, that was only my business.

With trembling fingers I quickly cleaned myself up, blushing when I realised I was so wet the whole top of my thighs was covered in my sticky juices. Putting myself back together I rushed to scrub my hands clean and soon I was standing behind the door, taking a few deep breaths but the excitement still getting the better of me and I eagerly walked out, expectantly looking for Yoongi’s reaction with a little sly smile on my face.

And I was not disappointed.

The second I stepped out, his head snapped in my direction, confirming that he really was waiting for me to come out. His cheeks were also lightly dusted with pink from excitement, his eyes as dark as midnight with his pupils blown wide with lust. He immediately licked his lips, eyes raking over my form and taking in the shaky knees and trembling hips, the blush on my face, both from recovering from an orgasm and shyness, hair a mess and lips bitten red.

Yoongi suddenly stood up and I realised that he packed up his laptop and headphones, all his stuff probably stuffed into his neat backpack that hung off of his shoulder. He side-stepped from the table and leisurely made his way towards me, black dress pants nicely hugging his form, white tee tucked into them accentuating his slim waist and a thick black oversized shirt hanging off him in a way that made me slightly feral.

But there was something else he wanted me to see, and I clocked it as soon as he got close enough, cheeks absolutely blazing red and my pussy valiantly clenching again even after such an orgasm.

He was hard. When my eyes slid down again to appreciate how the pants fit him so perfectly they landed on an unmistakable bulge, the front of his pants tenting in a tell-tale sign of how much he enjoyed my little show. I gasped and suddenly all confidence sapped from my body and I was left aroused and aching, willing to do anything. He watched me with a mix of condescension and arousal, knowing how easily he won over me and loving how receptive I was to just a light teasing, how the blush spread down to my collarbones and my mouth opened subconsciously, eyes glazing over and brain no doubt filled only with the thoughts of his cock.

But with an arrogant smirk he passed right by me, heading for the door of the men’s bathroom. Only when he was halfway through the door, he threw me a look over his shoulder, winking at me and his grin turned wild and rough. Then he disappeared inside.

I was left in the hall gasping for air, body ravaged by tension and lust and head full of images of Yoongi standing in the bathroom stall and hurriedly yanking at his cock, the red tip wet with pre-cum, the liquid getting smeared all over his length by his eager hands trying to get himself to completion as fast as possible. I imagined him grunting, head thrown back and mouth open but still curled into that annoying smirk.

A door opened somewhere a little down the hall and a mess of voices flowed out, startling me out of my reverie and I realised I had been just standing in the middle of an empty hallway staring dumbly at the bathroom door. I felt the bashfulness catch up to me and it sprung me into movement. With one last look at the door I scurried back into the class and spent the last 15 minutes staring into the wall with flaming red cheeks.

When I walked out after the class ended, Yoongi was back to his place, sitting completely relaxed into his chair and grinning lazily when his eyes caught mine. I felt my whole body jerk with a bolt of lust, but I ducked my head and quickly ran down the stairs, rushing out of the building and towards the café where the boys were already waiting for me. Jungkook stared at my flustered face with an unreadable expression, and I let him think whatever he wanted, too preoccupied with fighting the image of Yoongi cumming all over himself just twenty minutes ago thinking of me masturbating just a wall over.

Later that week, after many orgasms, much deliberating and a whole lot of shame I decided I needed to hear his voice. I kept thinking back to how Jungkook mentioned he was in the same year and major as Namjoon and that he was a performing rapper, and I knew Namjoon put his stuff online. And if Yoongi really was a known name in the bar scene around the area, he must have too.

Asking Jungkook about his stage name would be too humiliating, so instead I decided to rake through Namjoon’s insta because he must have his friend’s account there somewhere, hoping Yoongi would forgive me a little social media stalking. Firstly I scrolled through Namjoon’s posted pictures, but he rarely tagged other people. Most of his pictures were of artworks or Joonie doing something silly and living his best life.

So I switched to the pictures that others tagged you in. It took a while, but I was able to see that most of them were from this guy Hoseok that I had seen around but haven’t really spoken to. I knew he was a double major because he did dance like Jungkook and Jimin, but I had never realised he was also in the same major and year as Namjoon. He seemed to post a lot from the studio, often with Joon hunched over his computer in the background, but after some digging I was able to find one that had them all in it.

It was also from the studio, it must have been the one the boys were interning in, presumably all of them together. Hoseok’s face was grinning in one corner as he was taking the selfie and even though it was dark, you could clearly see two men sitting at a table together and discussing something with serious looks on their faces. A laptop sat between them and one of them had his hand lying on the pause button. It was Yoongi and Joon. Only their side-profile could be seen in the photo, but it was unmistakably them. The description only said “hyung is scolding joonie again” but tapping on the photo it showed that both of them had been tagged. Bingo.

Yoongi’s account was full of mostly dark pictures, some from the same studio and some were of him on stage mid performance, but there weren’t as many as Namjoon and Hoseok had on theirs. I scanned some of them quickly, but even though he looked super hot and the photos were extremely well done, it wasn’t the reason of my searching.

I checked the name of the account again – it was Agust D. And there was a link in the bio. Without thinking I clicked it and was transported to Spotify, Yoongi’s entire career laid out clearly in front of my eyes in the form of three albums.

I spent the evening listening to them, letting his music wash over me and losing myself in the beat and the lyrics. No matter what I was looking for when I wanted to listen to it, I got everything and more. I suddenly understood all those star-struck students that according to Kookie trailed hopelessly after Yoongi, the man had a real talent and an aura that just sucked you right in, like a fly getting trapped in a very smug spider’s web.

His voice was surprisingly lower and rougher than I anticipated, the songs had no shortage of him growling or screaming, emotions pouring off of his voice in waves that just swept me along.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what he sounded like when he was getting his rocks off.

The next Tuesday I climbed those 4 floors of stairs confidently, wearing a short skirt and cute heels, gingerly picking a spot in the class that would allow me to slink off in the middle of the lecture again. Yoongi wasn’t sitting in the hallway yet, but I believed he’d show up soon enough.

The anticipation was coursing through my veins, making me jittery and giggly. From the corner of my eye I could see a classmate giving me a strange look, mouthing at me if I was okay and I nodded hurriedly, giving her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I had to leave.

If the two lectures before were unbearable, this one took the cake. I could barely contain myself, squirming in my seat, trying to make myself comfortable while I checked the time every 2 minutes, wishing half the lecture had already gone by and always getting disappointed at how early it still was.

My mind was going into overdrive, feeding me ideas and fantasies, replaying last week’s encounter on loop. I couldn’t see anything except for Yoongi’s lopsided smirk planted firmly on his face as he made his way into the bathroom to jerk off, his face as he came thinking of me.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was absolutely losing my mind, thighs pressing together and hands tangled into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material. I made it 40 minutes before I grabbed my phone and sneaked out onto the hall.

Yoongi’s head shot up immediately, already sitting by the window waiting for something. This time I didn’t freeze up, instead I was the one who smirked at him and confidently walked up straight to the bathroom. He watched me raptly, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. Couldn’t help but notice that today he didn’t have his laptop out, he just sat there and watched me, but I moved forward not giving it much thought.

I raised my eyebrow at him and winked right as I disappeared into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind me and sealing me inside in the calm and quietness. I rushed to the furthest stall, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock, too horny to think clearly.

I couldn’t believe this was getting to me so much, but the moment I managed to slide my tights low enough and ran my hand through my folds, I was already so wet it was astonishing. I laughed at myself in disbelief as my finger found my clit and circled it. Who would have thought this would become my weekly routine, jerking off in the bathroom while a guy I’ve never even talked to sat outside smirking.

But not today it turned out.

Just as pleasure began coursing through me at the ministrations, pleasured sighs leaving me freely as I got cocky not getting caught until now and the squelching of my wet pussy getting played with rang through the quiet space. Then, I heard the door open.

Immediately I froze, hand stopping but still stuck between my thighs. Slow silent footsteps made their way towards the stalls and I hoped whoever this person was, they would take care of their business quickly and leave right afterwards, but they seemed to be taking this in a really leisurely manner. I was holding my breath, counting the seconds, ears straining to catch any kind of sound coming from them.

“Don’t stop on my account, kitten,” a gruff voice suddenly piped up, the footsteps stopping right outside my stall. Relief and lust rushed through me at his appearance and I couldn’t hold back a desperate whimper, the fingers on my clit going back to work. There was a chuckle behind the door and then he was pushing it open.

I must have been a sight, underwear and tights pushed under my ass, skirt bunched up around my hips, bent over with my back arched leaning on the wall as I desperately played with myself, mouth open and eyes glazed over.

Yoongi’s eyes raked over me and he hummed lowly in appreciation. He made his way in lazily, shutting and locking the door behind him before leaning on it and just watching for a moment. I tried to put on a show for him but I was truly gone, the three weeks of built up arousal carrying me high and my body racing towards the edge in record speed.

I watched him back, watched his dark hungry eyes, his tongue peeking out to wet his upper lip, the way his hands flexed by his hips, twitching with the need to grab himself. I could see his bulge clearly, the tight black jeans barely able to contain it, and I was going crazy for it. When my eyes jumped back to Yoongi’s face, he was smirking at me knowing where I’d been staring at. What I wanted.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards me. Startled I straightened out, fingers stopping once more. He descended on me hurriedly, pushing me into the wall with his body, caging me in. Our faces were suddenly only breaths apart and Yoongi took his sweet time, teasing me by getting closer and pulling away with a laugh. I whined, my clean hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he let me, watching me from above as I writhed against him, wordlessly begging for any touch from him.

Finally, he took pity on me and with a cocky grin smashed our mouths together, immediately prying my lips open and licking inside, claiming me roughly and thoroughly. I moaned into him, body arching into his and he pressed closer, pressing me into the wall again and our bodies touched from our heads to our toes. His hand went to my neck, wrapping around it lightly and grabbing my jaw to keep me still as he kissed me with all his might.

Now with both hands I grabbed onto him, one going around his neck and one around the waist, and he broke the kiss to laugh at me quietly, turning my face with his hand so he could kiss around my ear.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that kitten?” he whispered, voice gravelly with arousal, “Coming in here every week… playing with your pussy… making yourself cum… and then coming out and giving me those eyes, cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and yet playing so coy and shy… you’re such a minx.” I tensed, eyes rolling back as he started nipping at my neck, laying wet kisses and bites all over any skin he could get to.

I didn’t even notice when Yoongi’s other hand found its way between my legs, fingers roughly pressing onto my clit. I choked on a moan, head falling back and hitting the tiled wall, hands flexing into his clothes. He bit my shoulder enough to leave a mark, chuckling at my loud keening before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear again.

“Last week I thought I would go crazy sitting there,” Yoongi continued, almost growling into my skin as his fingers twisted meanly around my sensitive nub making me tremble, “I couldn’t focus on anything, not when I knew how much you wanted to give me a show. Almost went to jerk off at least five times but I held off until you came out to repay the favour.” He chuckled again, hand tightening a little on my neck as he leaned back to look at me.

I tried to get my breathing under control but I was stuck with my mouth hanging open, noises flowing out freely as if this wasn’t a public bathroom. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind though, quite happy to watch me come undone just from a little teasing.

“It was the same for me,” I whispered, looking into his eyes and this time playing coy very much on purpose, licking my lips and batting my lashes to play it up, “Had to sit through the rest of the lecture while thinking about you in here. Was hell.” He snickered darkly, immediately catching onto my act.

He hummed, finger dragging across my lower lip, fascinated for a moment before he snapped back to himself, mouth pulling back into a smirk.

Without a warning his other hand moved lower, fingers tracing my entrance before two of them plunged inside. I moaned out, body seizing up at the sensation. I was wet enough that they went easy but there was still the pleasurable sting of being stretched out on two digits.

Yoongi certainly wasn’t the type to waste time. He hummed satisfied, watching me with those dark eyes, testing the waters with a few shallow pumps before he started finger-fucking me earnestly. Just like everything else, even now he wasn’t gentle, flicking his wrist up and pushing his fingers as far as they could go, curling them to scratch at that one magic spot that had me seeing white.

I whimpered loudly, hips gyrating to ride the motions, already feeling the stirrings of a powerful orgasm lurking on the horizon. Like a shark sensing blood Yoongi chuckled and twisted his fingers on the next thrust. I keened, hands flying up to tangle into his clothes and hair, hips jerking and chasing after the feeling.

“So selfish, kitten,” he tsked at me, still keeping his cool even though I could see his erection attempting to burst through his pants, “only thinking about your own pleasure. No respect for others, huh?”

My first instinct was to apologise, but I got choked up on the words when he started up his pace again, so instead I decided to be a woman of action. Slowly trailing my hand down his torso, feeling him up on the way, grabbing onto his chest, his slim waist, until I finally reached his crotch.

With the first touch he let out a light groan, fingers stuttering and eyes falling shut for a moment, then he was suddenly back onto me, kissing me wildly while his hips fucked into my hand, letting out gruff groans and sighs into my mouth, which I accepted gladly.

For a moment we were just lost in each other, not caring about the noise or the place, just pleasuring each other, touching, feeling. Then Yoongi was tearing away, hand flying from my pussy and stepping back. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his amused face.

Instead he grabbed me and turned me around until I was leaning on my arms on the wall behind the toilet, one leg up on the closed lid for support. I shivered in anticipation, knowing what would come next. Yoongi was moving about behind me, clothes shuffling and rustling. Then his sweater hit the floor. I turned my head to watch just as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver packet. He grinned at me and winked when catching my eye, then reached out to me, condom in hand.

“Can you hold this for me for a second, darling?” he asked as sweet as honey, but there was something devilish twinkling in his eye.

“Of course,” I answered him. I meant for it to be sassy, but it came out on a breathless whisper as I took the packet and watched Yoongi’s hand run through his hair before setting on his belt. He unbuckled slowly, attentively watching my eyes soaking in every second as he pulled the belt through the buckle and out of his pants. Fingers toyed with the button before popping it open, tongue wetting his lips and hungry eyes eating me up. I trembled under his attention but held still, not even breathing as his fingers grasped at the zipper and pulled it down.

Tired of playing, he pulled his tee out and put the hem between his teeth, revealing his taunt stomach and pretty waist. Winking at my obvious gawking, he finally pulled his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing free. The sight of him shocked me to my core, standing there with his t-shirt in his mouth and a smug glint his eye while he leisurely fisted his flushed red cock. I could feel my pussy gushing and clenching around nothing, desperately calling to be filled up.

Yoongi plucked the condom packet from my limp hand and made a quick work of putting it on. He lined up behind me, hands finding my waist to pull my tee from the skirt, making contact with bare skin.

I gasped when I felt his cock slide through my wet folds, but quickly keened and arched into it. One of Yoongi’s hands tightened on my waist while the other disappeared to grab his length.

“Easy now,” he chuckled at my trembling body, my hips chasing after his cock and trying to entice him into fucking me.

“Please,” was all I could get out of my mouth, “please Yoongi, just fuck me.” His hand tightened again and there was a beat of silence before he snickered.

“So you naughty girl do know my name,” he teased and I froze for a moment, embarrassment flooding me. I turned to him again to see him smirking at me, tee hanging off of his form. “I heard it around,” I whispered sheepishly. He hummed, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Not really fair, is it?” he teased some more, a mischievous expression taking over his face, “Is it, Y/N?” I narrowed my eyes at him jokingly and he grinned.

“Now, what’s your excuse, mister?” I asked him sassily, “Not like I’m a campus celebrity… unlike someone here.”

“May or may not have asked Jungkook cause I saw you two hanging out,” Yoongi admitted easily, laughing at me when I paled.

“God,” I groaned, “No wonder he was getting so cheeky whenever you came up in a conversation.” At that Yoongi raised his eyebrow again, amusement dancing on his features.

“That happen often?” he asked impishly, leaning against me and once again letting me feel his cock sliding through my folds. I gasped a little and blushed even darker. “You’re Namjoon’s friend, so occasionally,” I bold-faced lied straight through my teeth and from the look on Yoongi’s face, he was aware but let me get away with it.

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, mischievous little smiles on our faces, and then Yoongi hummed, pulling his tee back up to his lips and biting down on it. I shuddered, the lust once again taking the fore-front seat in my mind. This time he didn’t stop for anything, grabbing himself with one hand and the other going to my waist to hold me in place.

The tip of his cock circled my entrance and I subconsciously clenched, a gush of wetness leaving me. I whined and wriggled in his hold and he tsked at me again before sliding inside in a single thrust with a light condescending giggle. I groaned, pussy immediately squeezing around the intrusion, feeling every inch and ridge. There was a hitch in Yoongi’s breaths, both hands migrating to my waist and grabbing so tightly I felt his nails digging into my skin.

He barely gave me a second before pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a rough pace from the get-go. All I could do was bury my head into the crook of my elbow, biting into the soft flesh there to keep myself from moaning loud enough for the whole school to hear.

The stretch of his cock was exquisite, the slight burn heating up my already sensitive body to a near boiling point. With every thrust there was a tiny twinge of pain that left me breathless, desperate to muffle any noise that could cut our meeting short.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care much about noise, hands on my waist mercilessly pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me with so much force I felt my whole body twitching with the overdrive of sensation, the slapping of our sweaty bodies against each other and the wet squelch of my weeping pussy getting filled to the brim loud enough to substitute for our own sounds. He was grunting gruffly, the noise seemingly leaving his mouth involuntarily and getting muffled by the tee.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, and god, he was a vision with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and face the picture of ecstasy, body rippling with the motion of his pumping hips and strong veiny arms and hands gripping onto me hard enough to go red with the force. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he toppled his head forward to look at me, a tired self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips at seeing my fucked out expression.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” I gasped out breathlessly, chuckling at his teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have such a dirty fucking mouth, can’t stand for it being shut.” Yoongi laughed, throwing his head back in delight. Within seconds the piece of fabric joined his sweater on the floor and he leaned forward, hands picking on my own shirt with a mischievous expression.

“Shouldn’t you even the score?” I loved how deep and gravelly his voice became with arousal, even when he was being mischievous I could hear the growl in it and it drove me crazy. I scrambled to listen to him, tearing the shirt off and flinging it behind us. Yoongi’s hands immediately travelled up, playing with the edge of my bra before swiftly undoing the clasp and dragging it off. I gasped lightly at his skilled handiwork and giggled, but Yoongi was already preoccupied with kissing along my shoulders and shoulder blades.

His hips angled better and then jerked them into me again, cock sliding even deeper now. I groaned and arched into him and that was his que to start fucking in earnest again. In this position I could hear the strained sighs and grunts every time he slid back inside, the rough deep pace taking a toll on us both.

The back of my thighs was burning from standing bent over and straining my hips for this long and it added to the mix of feelings running through me. I could feel my orgasm catching up with me, Yoongi’s cock now hitting a spot on every thrust that made me want to scream with pleasure, sliding in so deep I swore I could feel him in my belly and it was so good my head was spinning, and all that came out of me were raspy moans. Yoongi bit into my shoulder, grunts raising in octave, hands pulling at my body to meet his thrusts.

I prayed to god that the walls were thick enough to keep the sounds from escaping onto the hall. I knew that if someone stepped inside now, there would be no masking what was going on, we were both too gone for that, just chasing our pleasure.

I was so close, the weeks of build up and the foreplay and teasing making me delirious. There in that moment I just wished I could stay like this forever, to feel this delicious ecstasy for the rest of my life, but I was so close to snapping I just needed a little extra push even though my head was so high in the clouds wishing to be never brought down.

“Please Yoongi, god,” I choked out, “please, I’m so close.” That seemed to snap Yoongi back into his attitude again, but he couldn’t hide how affected he was too.

“What do you want, kitten, mm?” even he couldn’t talk properly through the gasps and grunts, but still tried to sound as cocky as possible. Instead of talking I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs.

Yoongi pressed himself to me closer to make the reach more comfortable, his chest glued to my back as he nibbled on my neck and shoulder, giggling breathlessly when his naughty fingers started drawing tight quick circles on my clit.

My moans got louder, the pumping of his cock, hitting so deep inside of me, combined with the stimulation on my clit made me seize up, whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook me. Yoongi groaned every time my pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper and closer to his own end. Both of us were so sweaty we stuck to each other, the temperature in the stall rising so high it was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi,” I gasped out, just repeating his name breathlessly as I barrelled to the climax, feeling the beginning of the tingling washing over me, pussy seizing up. Yoongi’s hands were like vice on my body, my waist littered with red indents of his nails, some already purpling slightly.

“I know, kitten,” he whispered into my neck, “Me too, you can let go.” The moment those words left his mouth my orgasm exploded over me, enough to blind me and send my ears ringing for a few moments. I let out a raspy groan, hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall and if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s hold on me, my buckling knees would have sent me crashing to the floor, but all I could focus on was the euphoria blooming through my body, flooding all my senses with so much pleasure I could barely fully register anything that was going on. Yoongi fucked me through the peak, hips losing rhythm and all decorum until finally he gave last few hard pumps and stilled too, coming with a drawn-out moan, hands pushing our hips as close together as they could go.

We clung onto each other as we attempted to catch our breaths again. I felt my arms slipping on the tiles as the pleasant ache started setting into my hips and lower tummy, legs screaming for a reprieve as my brain slowly came back into function. I blinked my eyes open, not even realising I had closed them at some point. Yoongi was basically hugging me from the behind, draped over me just breathing deep, faced smushed into my shoulder blade. Then he chuckled.

“You think we’re still in the clear?” he laughed, “How thick do you think these walls are?” A giggle tumbled out of me and before I knew it we were both laughing breathlessly, bodies still pressed close.

“This is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I told him, shaky knees trying to keep my weight as I started to gather my wits. Yoongi let me go easily and helped me find my balance as my whole body ached, back killing me after Yoongi railed me like a madman.

“And here I was, thinking this was just regular Tuesday for you.”

I slapped his shoulder lightly, but the blush on my cheeks revealed that I couldn’t really say anything to that. His amused snickers told me he was well aware, so I just stood there and watched him slip the condom off, tie it up and then just awkwardly stand there not knowing what to do with it.

“Guess I can’t just casually drop a used condom into a bin in the girl’s bathroom,” he stated nonchalantly, and I giggled at him. In the end he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and hid it inside, putting in on the closed bin lid for the moment.

Next Yoongi swiftly cleaned himself up and pulled his jeans back on, but when I reached for the paper to do the same, he swatted my hand away. With a much gentler smile he got it himself, kneeled in front of me and started cleaning me up, gently wiping away the mess left on my centre and thighs. I watched him attentively, the soft look on his face making him look boyish, only the naughty glint in his eyes reminiscent of the man he was just a few minutes ago.

When our eyes met, I returned the smile, hand instinctively going to tangle into his hair. I meant to just card it through the dark wavy locks, but the heated look he gave me had me shuddering again, fingers tightening. Yoongi smirked, tongue licking at his lips sensually just inches away from my exposed pussy.

“Still thinking about naughty things, kitten?” he said, voice dark and deep, “Like the sight of me on my knees for you?” I hesitated for a moment before untangling my hand and gently pushing him with a blush.

“I see,” Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, “maybe next time then.” With a wink he stood up and when I didn’t move he motioned for me to start dressing up with a smirk, handing me my bra and t-shirt. We slowly clambered out of the stall, stretching and trying to get all the body parts to working order again.

“How about,” Yoongi drawled out, self-assured and with the attitude of someone who just got their rocks off, “you ditch the lecture you never really go to anyway and we grab something to eat?” I stopped in my tracks, shocked but pleasantly surprised at his offer. I checked the time quickly.

“There’s only like 10 minutes of class left, I can sit that out and then we can go,” I answered, smiling softly, but Yoongi smirked with all his might, something devilish glinting over his face. He leaned towards me, grabbing me lightly by my shoulders.

“Not looking like that, you can’t,” he whispered meanly and spun me around. The moment I laid my eyes on myself in the mirror, I gasped. Yoongi was standing behind me grinning like the devil admiring his handiwork. My neck was littered in little bites and spots ranging from dark pink across red all the way to purple. Yoongi let out a satisfied hum, almost sounding like a purr, his hands going across my waist to pull at the tee tucked into my skirt to reveal more reddish purplish bruises from his fingers.

I turned in his arms and slapped his shoulder lightly, completely flustered by his antics. “How can I walk out of here now? Everyone will know what I’d been doing instead of sitting at the lecture,” I whined, more embarrassed than angry, but Yoongi’s laughing face was totally free of any remorse, “I look like someone beat me up.”

The man said nothing, just pulled me closer to kiss me gently. I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before I whined again: “I don’t even have a scarf with me today.” He burst out laughing and patted my hip softly.

“I’ll get your stuff, you wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially and with one last wink he was gone. It took him only three minutes to stick his head back into the bathroom, looking a little ruffled and a lot amused.

“I suggest we get going fast, I’m afraid a guy leaving the ladies restroom isn’t as inconspicuous as I wished it was,” he got out quickly, smirking impishly and handing me my coat. I tried to wear it in a way that covered most of the marks, but it was futile, more than half of my neck still on full display.

I walked out of the bathroom the same moment the door to my classroom opened and students started filing out. Yoongi exchanged a single glance with me before we both took off, running down the stairs like we were being chased, only stopping once the building doors slammed shut behind us.

“Jimin’s café?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, still trying to get his strength back and leaning on his knees. I grinned at him and grabbed his hand, already pulling him in the right direction.

“Sure, let’s go!”

Bonus:

“Holy shit! The fuck happened to you?” Jimin exclaimed loudly enough for the whole café to hear the moment he saw me walk through the door. Jungkook and Tae, who were sitting at a small table near the counter to keep Jimin company while he had his shift, turned to look at me only for Kookie to promptly spit out whatever he was drinking.

“Holy shit!” I gave him an unimpressed look and walked up to Jimin to order.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him sassily, but Jungkook was grinning mischievously, a knowing glint in his eye. I flushed under his gaze and looked away at which he started laughing loudly.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually did it,” he giggled, properly entertained by the situation and by my embarrassment. Tae was watching it all unfold, confused look on his face.

“Did what?” Jimin asked, similarly confused.

As if on cue the door opened again and Yoongi stepped in, ignoring everyone currently staring at him and walking straight to me, arm curling around my waist to pull me closer to him. He bent down slightly to whisper in my ear: “Got rid of the evidence successfully.”

“Holy shit!” This time it was Tae who screamed, coming full circle. I gave their smug smiling faces an annoyed glare and turned to Jimin to order again, but he was trying to conceal his grin behind his hand. Even more vexed I turned to Yoongi who was smirking smugly like a cat who got all the cream, hand possessively squeezing at my bruised waist.

“On second thoughts, we shouldn’t have come here,” I said to no one in particular, then turning my narrowed eyes at the man of the hour himself, “and wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” There were giggles from the boys all around us, but Yoongi just swooped down and kissed me softly, then pushed us closer towards the counter.

Jimin cleared his throat and tried to put on a professional expression, but there was mirth in his eyes that I just knew I was going to get all the teasing later. Tae and Kookie cleared out the mess at the table and made space for us to sit down, one looking more amused than the other.

I gave them both the stink eye and ignored them, checking my phone instead, trying to reply to all the messages I’ve missed in the last hour. Around me there was silence, everyone just sitting there looking at each other grinning, before Jungkook cleaned his throat and exclaimed:

“God, fucking finally! Thought Yoongi-hyung was gonna talk my ear off about you!”

“Kookie!” There was a pretty blush spreading on Yoongi’s cheeks, a polar opposite to the cocksure man that was railing my brains out 20 minutes ago. I giggled and squeezed his arm. He gave in easily, leaning towards me.

Then he set his eyes on Jungkook and narrowed them teasingly. “We’re gonna settle that later you brat.”

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #suga fic #yoongi fic #suga smut #suga fluff #suga x reader

[lovefoolholland]

about you - theodore nott x reader

summary: the train reminded theo of you. thestrals reminded theo of you. what did theo remember about you that wasn’t as heartwrenching? 

warnings: angst, a couple of lines from little women (greta gerwig’s movie) 

a/n: i can’t stop picturing theo as a the 1975 type of guy. like, he gives off matty healy’s vibes, you know? 

English is not my first language! 

The platform didn’t quite spark memories of you, but boy did the compartment he and his friends shared sparkle something.

“Theo!” exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clearly confused by the looks on Theodore Nott’s face “Are you alright?” 

That was an understatement. 

“Indeed” he answered instead. 

“You don’t seem alright” Blaise inquired, and Pansy gave him a glance. 

“I’m just tired” Theo said, rolling his eyes. 

“Tired of spending all summer thinking of Y/N, I’m sure,” Draco’s voice spilled like venom, and Theo turned to look at him with a dark demeanor in his eyes “am I wrong?” 

“Shut up Draco” Pansy said, and then looked at Theo with an apologetic smile. 

“It’s fine,” Theo heard himself answer “but you’re incredibly wrong. Apparition always tires me.” 

No one mentioned Y/N again, but Theo could feel the tension in the air. 

The compartment reminded him of the smell of freshly baked cookies, and how – somehow – you always managed to smell like that. You’ve mentioned before that you’d stayed over at the Weasley’s for a couple of days before going back to school, but it had never occurred to him until later in the relationship that cookies were something Molly Weasley surely did the morning her children (and her friends’ children) left for Hogwarts. 

Now, he missed the smell and he missed having his head dipped into the top of your head while his arms tangled on yours as you read some boring book that had to do with the classes to come. 

“We’re here mate” said Blaise when everyone but him had gotten out of the compartment. 

“Thanks” he said, and watched as a bunch of students started walking towards the thestrals that always drove everyone to the castle. 

He didn’t find you in the crowd. 

He got up and got out of the train in order to get to the castle in no time. He didn’t want to keep depressing himself over his failed relationship and the memories everything in Hogwarts brought him upon with. 

At least not until he saw your wild hair waiting for a carriage. 

“Hey” he said, and you couldn’t help but jump in place once you saw him. 

“Oh, hi” your voice was as soft as the day he left you “, waiting for a thestral?” 

He stared at you for a solid minute, watching how you curved your hands in your robes and a shy blush creeped up your cheeks. He then nodded. 

“Yeah,” you nodded along “how long have you been here?” 

“Not that long” your voice came out squeaky, noticeably ashamed “I just got off the train. I fell asleep.” 

“What?” he asked, quite interested now “Why? Didn’t your friends wake you up or…?” 

“I was alone” you said, pulling your lips together. 

Of course you were. 

“Right,” he said, uncomfortable “we should probably start walking. 

“We should, yeah.” 

The two of you made your path down the castle in silence, both of you unconsciously thinking of the other. 

Theo remembered the first time he got on one of these carriages. He was incredibly nervous, and that’s when a girl with a bright smile sat next to him and started asking him questions. Just… Asking. She didn’t know about his nerves, if anything, she was interested in meeting new people and getting to know them. 

That girl was you. 

Four years later, during the Triwizard Tournament year, he had told you about the Yule Ball during your ride to the castle and had noticed the way your cheeks flushed when Draco mentioned he was going to ask Pansy to go with him, pretty proud of himself. 

Days later, he asked you, and you went together. 

Now it all seemed like a daydream, a cruel, plain daydream he had the day he told you he didn’t want a relationship with you anymore. How he told you that anyway or another, you were an obstacle in his life. 

How stupid of him. 

“How has your family been?” you asked, head tilting towards him. 

He frowned. 

“Father’s been pretty busy. And mother's portrait has been asking about you.” 

Of course he had to say that. 

He looks up to you to find a startled, yet satisfied expression on your face. He feels as if hot porridge has been spilled all over his face and neck because he knows he has turned red out of embarrassment. 

“Send them my greetings” you simply say before accelerating your pace “, come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“Wait, T/N,” the lights of the path leading to the school flick a little, and you stop in your tracks as he reaches to you “how have you been?” 

You open your mouth and then close it. It almost seems as if you want to tell him everything about your summer but… But you can’t. 

“Good,” you say, and start walking, slower this time, to the castle “my parents have been pretty busy too. The Ministry is going mad over the news of the return of You-Know-Who.” 

“Yes, of course,” he says, and then slightly smiles “did you stay at the Weasleys?”

He’s met with silence. You look at him with suspicion, and he notices. 

“What?” 

“What is the point of you asking these questions?” 

He scoffs. 

“Alright, sorry. I won’t be asking anything else.” 

“No, Theo– I mean, Theodore,” your breath hitches in your throat “it doesn’t bother me. At all. You know it never will.” 

He knows what you’re asking. 

But why? 

As the two of you step into the entrance of the castle and Flitwick tells you to register yourselves, Theo realizes why. 

“I’ve missed you” he confesses, and notices you try to evade his eyes “, Y/N–”

You take a sharp breath before speaking. 

“Stop it,” she says, and he notices the tears forming on your eyes “Theo, you’re being mean.” 

“Mean?” he asks, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, mean” you emphasize in the word, and suddenly the two of you find yourselves right at the doors of the Great Hall. 

Theo realizes neither has the intention of going in. 

“I’m telling you how I feel, I don’t see how that’s mean.” 

“No,” you say again, and now inevitably make eye contact. He instantly regrets, you’re on the verge of tears “you don’t get to say this, not after hurting me so much.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Not when I haven’t forgotten about you, not completely” you hiss, and take a step back. 

Theo’s mind runs wild. 

“You haven’t forgotten about me?” 

The choice of words amuses him. How can you forget all that you’ve been through? From sleeping in each other’s arms on the train to the sight of you wearing captivating robes to the Yule Ball, dancing until the last song ran out. 

“No, okay? I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I can’t” you say, tears sprinting down your cheeks as they turn red “I miss you on the train, I miss your arms around me, and I never know what to think about but…” 

“You think about me” he finishes off, and takes a step towards you “, do you think I’ve forgotten about you?” 

He knows you know that’s impossible. 

You put your lips together tightly and look up at him with a frown. 

“No.” 

“That’s right,” he says, cupping your cheeks with your hands. He cleans the tears with his thumb “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” 

You close your eyes once you feel his skin against yours. 

He silently dips his head and kisses your forehead. You still smell like freshly baked cookies. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You simply nod. 

He sighs and dips even more, sliding his hands against the back of your neck before kissing you more feverishly than before. Both of your heads spin as every student storms out of the Great Hall, and even a poltergeist calls you two out. 

“I will never forget you,” he assured you “all I can think about… Live about, is you. I’ve never stopped.” 

You smile and nod, opening your eyes and clenching him by the robes surrounding his body. 

“Never let go, Theodore Nott.”

#the 1975 #about you #harry potter #wizarding world #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott one shot #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott blurb #theo nott fanfic #theo nott fanficion #theo nott imagine #theo nott one shot #theo nott fluff #theo nott smut #theo nott angst #theo nott blurb #draco malfoy #golden trio #slytherin

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity) Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

warnings: kissing, exploring sexually, fluff, mentions of IRL creative licenses/pop culture references pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: after a few weeks of getting to know the shy and stoic Nanami Kento, you invite him over to your dorm to watch some anime. as things progress, you realize that you have taken his kissing virginity...

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @benkeibear @kenpachisbrat. @gennaray

MDNI banner and Support your writers banner by the lovely benkeibear!!!

Masterlist

Classes had begun fairly well and you were getting into the full swing of things. Moving to a different city and going to a prestigious university hadn’t been your initial plan, but when you won the bursary and the scholarship, you found yourself unable to say no. Your parents had encouraged you to go, praising you for your high grades and your charismatic nature. So with that in mind, you had been very excited about the prospect.

You had worked in a bank a little bit during your last year of high school. And it completely changed your mindset about money. You decided not long after that that you were going to study to become a financial advisor. You wanted to be able to help people with their money. You wanted them to see that they could make good, fiscal plans with their assets.

And taking classes in business and finance could open a lot of doors for you. Even if the financial advisor job fell through, you could make your way into a job in stocks. Anything in the financial and business field would make you happy.

This is where you met Nanami Kento. He’s shy, sullen and stoic. He hides in the back of your shared classes. You swear he’s not paying attention whatsoever, but he’s acing the tests and the quizzes. He’s at the top of the class, no matter the subject. He’s got his nose buried in a book or his notebook most of the time.

It was his amber eyes that drew you in. Most of the time you only got to see one as he covers the other with his bangs. He rarely smiles, which also draws you in. Everyone else is dressed in business attire, whereas Kento wears business casual. And he’s very heavy on the casual side of things.

But due to his academic successes and good grades, nobody is batting an eyelash at him. Seemingly you might be the only person in these classes that is even remotely interested in him. One thing that really caught your eye was his collection of pins on his jacket.

You approach him one day after class, and he shoots you a confused look. Everyone is leaving the classroom, but you wanted to get to know him more. You wanted to approach him. And the minute you do, you notice not only does he have a look of confusion on his face, but he’s also blushing.

“You’re Nanami-san, yes?” You inquire, even if you know the answer.

He pulls his bag over his shoulder, “Y-yes. That’s me.”

You introduce yourself and extend your hand out to him, “Nice to meet you. I really like your pin.”

When he doesn’t shake your hand, you point at the cute little GIR pin on his lapel. Not many people you know have watched Invader Zim. He sort of looks at you in shock for a minute before turning away. 

“Thanks, see ya.”

And you don’t approach him for another few weeks after that first encounter. You wonder if he’s just shy or if he’s abrasive. He seems so cute in your eyes. So you push yourself to make an effort to talk to him more.

The second time, you invite him out to lunch. He doesn’t outright say yes, but he also doesn’t say no. He begins to follow you to the cafe just outside of the campus. You both order a coffee and sit in silence for a little bit.

“How’d you find the test?” You ask him, taking a sip of your coffee.

He shrugs, “It was fine.”

“You must be very smart. You’re at the top of our class.”

He blushes and shrugs once more, “I don’t know. It’s just not too hard for me.”

The conversation dies down before you head over to the counter and order two sandwiches. Then you return with the two plates and Kento is confused. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought him lunch. He’s really not sure why someone as beautiful as you would even bother with him.

“Do you like the band The Used?”

Kento’s eyes widen, “Y-yeah! You like The Used?”

You nod. “Love ‘em! They are so awesome.”

This begins an acquaintanceship between you and Kento. You spend the lunch hour chatting about your favorite bands, your favorite manga and anime and of course, your favorite tv shows. You both discover very quickly that you have so much in common.

By the time lunch hour is over, you’re both upset that you’ll have to end the conversation. You see Kento in a whole new light, and him…he realizes that there are still some good people in this world.

The next time you two meet, you invite him to your dorm room. He’s never been invited to someone’s dorm since he enrolled, so he’s a little nervous about it. Not to mention the fact that he thinks he’s developing a crush on you. This coupled with the fact that he’s entirely a virgin scares him. Nevertheless, he makes his way to your dorm and knocks on the door. In his other hand is a bag of snacks and drinks to share with you.

“Kento-kun! Nice to see you! Come in,” you greet him in such a sunny way. Your demeanor was beginning to remind him of someone from his past.

He smiles shyly, “Thanks.”

He makes his way into your little space. Despite it being small, you’ve managed to make it feel so nice and cozy. It’s well decorated with band posters, comfy furniture and even a little kitchenette area. He’s surprised that you could make such a small place look so much like a home.

“Sit down,” you motion to the couch. “I’ll get us some cups.”

You return to the living room area of the room and join him on the couch. On your little TV, you have some old anime playing. Kento is immediately sucked in. You find the drinks in his bag and pour the drinks. Your fingers brush against his when you pass him the cup. He shudders from the sudden contact, hiding it by returning his attention to the TV.

“You like this?” You gesture to the TV.

He nods, “Yeah, this is Ninja Scroll, right?”

“Yeah! I didn’t think anyone was still interested in this sort of stuff.”

You and Kento begin a conversation about anime and the movie that’s playing. You both can’t stop talking to each other. It’s just like the conversation continues to flow so naturally between the two of you. The more you conversed., the more you found yourself liking him. He’s cute, knowledgeable and not like a lot of the other guys you’ve met.

As the conversation dies down, both of you sit in a comfortable semi-silence. The movie comes to a point where the romance is noticeable. You feel your heart pumping a little faster when you look at Kento again.

He’s blushing as his eyes lock with yours. He’s never even kissed before, but he’s not stupid. He knows where you want to take this relationship, but he’s so damn scared to fuck it up. There’s got to be some sort of false confidence he could display.

Yet the minute your soft lips press against his, he knows you’re going to be able to suss out his inexperience within seconds. He doesn’t know how to kiss you back, so he sits there stunned. His hands are shaking as you sit even closer to him. And then when you pull away, you notice the look on his face.

“Shit, I am so sorry, Kento. I thought…well, I thought maybe you wanted to make-out.”

Kento’s cheeks burn even more, “I-I do, I just… Idon’tknowhowto.”

You can barely make out what he’s just said. But the sentiment is there and you pick it apart. He’s never made out before. Your brain turns this information over a few times and then it clicks. That was probably his first kiss. You begin to blush and apologize profusely.

“I am so sorry, I thought that maybe…”

Then he surprises you. He kisses you. It’s sloppy and harsh, but you appreciate it all the same. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, and he shudders again. You’re so soft and you smell so good and the feeling of your lips on his makes his heart race. When he pulls away, he’s the one apologizing.

“Don’t even say you’re sorry. That was a sweet kiss.”

Then the two of you turn to face each other. The tension could be cut with a knife. You reach out to cup his face again, pulling him even closer. His hands shake as he tries to caress you, but he’s just not even sure what to do. You lead him through another kiss, this time you deepen it just a bit more.

His fists stay clenched at his side for the first part of this kiss, then you gently reach out to intertwine your fingers with his. The minute you do this, he melts into the kiss.

Then you pull away, leaning your forehead against his. Your hands are so soft against his face. He nuzzles his face into your palm before he leans in once more. This time, Kento takes the lead which surprises you. He pins you down on the couch with his body weight.

The kisses that follow are so tentative and slow. He’s learning how to be less sloppy and more precise. He’s gaining confidence the more you two explore, and soon you feel his hands on your sides. He caresses you so softly, almost like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away and end up being some figment of his imagination.

“You’re a good kisser,” you compliment him when you both pull away to breathe.

“T-thanks…you were my first.”

You cup his cheeks, “I know that, baby.”

Then your lips meet in another sweet kiss. But this time you surprise him by gliding your tongue along his bottom lip. Kento freezes for a moment, then he parts his lips.

‘So soft, so sweet…tastes so good.’ His mind is racing with thoughts like this. ‘Wanna taste her even more…’

Your tongues rub and roll together sensually. Soon you feel him grinding against you and you notice just how hard he is. His erection is poking against your thigh. And as much as you want to keep going, you think it’s probably for the best that you pace these things out.

So you pull away, leaving Kento panting and looking so dazed. He’s so sweet like this. This is the cutest look on his face you have ever seen. His lips try to chase yours a little, but you pull back just enough. Then you caress his cheek.

“Let’s slow this down, yeah?”

He swallows hard. “Oh uhm…yeah okay.”

You notice his disappointment, “I just don’t want you to rush into this. Let’s make this something special,”

He finally nods and smiles. His heart feels full of affection for you. This was exactly what he needed after all the trauma in his life. You were truly someone who cared and you were looking out for him.

You kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. I really like you. I’m not kicking you out.”

He smiles shyly, “Okay cool. Can we maybe cuddle?”

You wrap your arms around him and bring him even closer. His head rests on your chest and you two fall into the blissful happiness of cuddles.

#bacon.writes #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #jjk nanami #jjk nanami x reader #jjk nanami x you

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆

organization: i know it's the most trivial advice in the world, but i swear it works. before doing anything, i take my planner and review everything i have to do, i divide the study by subject, amount of things to study and review spaces for exams. realistically, you can't expect to do it all in one day, but a good plan could almost allow you to sleep at night!

a clean workspace: i can't fucking concentrate if there's a mess aroud me, i get distracted easily, even by dust, so before i start studying i always deep-clean my desk. i know that not everyone can afford a personal and quiet place to study in their houses, so try to find yourself a small angle where you can really focus.

go to study in a library / café: i didn't believe it at first, but it's actually useful. if you have the opportunity to go to a library or a café after school ( or near your house ) do so. being surrounded by people who are studying like you really helps to focus, you'll be less inclined to get distracted and procastinate. i would feel uncomfortable using my phone in a library with other people who are doing their work while i'm sitting there scrolling on tumblr.

breaks: ik ik, not very blair waldrof, hermione granger, spencer hastings, rory gilmore of me, isn't it? but is it worth it. sometimes i end up having really bad headaches from studying and, even if i keep studying, the quality of my work decreases significantly. breaks are fundamental. i would not recommend using social networks for your beak, because they litteraly drain your attention, rather do your skincare, prepare yourself a snack ( eating is important! it's what makes you focus ), read 10 pages of your book, dance a little bit in your room, do stretching, go outside and buy some mint chewingum, something like that.

EAT!: girls, boys and theys, we know. i honestly think that almost every person that craves academic validation ends up developing a sort of eating disorder. it's not even the food, is the fact that you are too busy studying that you forget to eat, ignoring stomach cramps, or the fact that you didn't get that answer right and now you don't feel like you deserve the lunch. i understand bc i AM like this, like you. but think about it: you need to do it in order to survive ( but this is secondary to the grades, right? ) and to keep your brain active. you can't walk around with blurred vision because you haven't eaten or drunk for fourteen continuous hours. i swear that eating like a normal human being helps you to keep going.

sleep: same thing as eating, but with our terrible sleeping schedules. i know that school is toxic so we end up finishing our homeworks at 2 am everyday ( if we're lucky ) but when you have the chance, take a nap and recover.

repeat things as if you were explaining them to someone: this is litterally the fastest way ever to learn fundamental concepts when you're studying. imagine that you're talking to a friend that doesn't know anything about the subject that you're studying and try to explain the topic to them. finding simple words for a difficult topic will help you understand it thoroughly, on this basis you can then build an articulated and more academic speech. repeat things out loud, doesn't matter if you look crazy, you already are <3

check and organize your notes the same day: i never have time to take proper notes in class, so i review them as soon as possible, with the lesson still fresh in mind. it really helps me understand the subject and makes the further study much easier.

watch youtube videos: youtube is my favourite class. sometimes teachers are dumber than students and you, who don't have a degree in that subject and are tackling a topic for the first time, don't understand a damn thing. ofc not!! sometimes professors are terrible at explaining stuff, but fazal from pakistan isn't. i passed my physics class with a 10/10 thanks to an indian guy on youtube. documentaries and yt videos are a simple and nice way to understand better topics and do insights for extra credits.

delete social media: i'm gonna do another post specifically for this.

"STUDY!" wallpaper: last but not least, the dumbest yet the smartest advice, set as lockscreen a white / black / whatever background with a big fat "STUDY!" written on it. everytime you're about to pick up your phone and procastinate the wallpaper will scold you.

hope this was useful or at least fun to read byee

#academia #college #education #note taking #school #student #study aesthetic #study blog #study inspiration #study motivation #study notes #study tips #studyblr #studyinspo #studyspo #university life #univeristy #uni life #university #university student #university studyblr #university stuff #college life #dark academia #light academia #chaotic academia #academic validation #academic weapon #academic life #architecture studyblr

[saythenametotheworld]

Message in a Bottle [1]

Genre: strangers to lovers; fluff; slow burn Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Reader Warnings: mature themes, sloooow burn, suggestive Notes: 19.7k words, song prompt was Message in a Bottle by Taylor Swift. Synopsis: Seungcheol likes his coffee dark and iced; you like yours creamy smooth and searing hot. Your differences, mutual interests, and love for coffee bring you close together. It was all fun and games until you fell madly in love with a Choi Seungcheol whose heart still belonged to someone else.

It was crowded when you went for your usual coffee run at the cafe across the street from your university. The rain was pouring hard and for you, the unexpected downpour was today's bad luck because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Fortunately, your jacket kept you warm and some nice schoolmate shared her umbrella with you on your way to the cafe. The ambiance is nice, like always and you're thinking about staying until the rain passes, maybe catching up on the book you were reading. But judging by the number of people present in the cafe right then, you figured you wouldn't have a chance to even open a book. Initially, you assumed most of these people were taking a quick shelter because of the rain, but when you noticed the large number of girls with their giggles and chatters, you figured out what was going on. Today is Saturday, the day when the cute part-timer will be here. Of course, you should have expected the place to be full with zero vacancies.

Right then, you spotted a corner table where a guy sat quietly by himself, a book covering his face as he read. You grimaced at the way he was holding the book at eye level with one hand. To you, that's the most uncomfortable way to read, especially with a hardcover book. But hey, each to his own, right? You shouldn't judge people just because their ways aren't what you're used to. Especially right now when you're in dire need of a seat and he has a table for two by himself.

"Hi, excuse me? Are you alone? Do you mind if I sit here?" you pleaded, your tray heavy in your hand and not because of its actual weight but because you were being really careful not to spill the mug of hot coffee. The guy didn't even look up from his book when he dragged his glass slightly towards him, a gesture telling you he was making space for you on the table. "Oh, thanks, you're a lifesaver!"

You set your tray down and placed your orders on the table before a service crew came over to take the tray. As you settled down, you fished the Kindle from your bag, glancing at his book to see what he was reading. "The Republic by Plato? Are you a student here?"

He peered at you over the book, lowering it slightly to reveal a set of big, round, dark brown eyes and arched eyebrows. You grinned sheepishly, now realizing that your attempt at small talk was a bad idea. First, he probably wanted some peace and quiet, too immersed in his book and didn't want to be disturbed; second, you're not even fond of making casual conversations with strangers in the first place.

"Oh, sorry. I had to read the same book last semester for class so I just assumed you're a student here too," you explained.

"You're a senior?" he asked, lowering the book on the table for a moment. You were able to take a good look at his face which bears somewhat exotic but good-looking features. He had a prominent nose, and pouty lips that caused his jaw to clench when they were pursed. "That's a requirement for senior Political Sciences students."

"Yeah! Yes, I am," you smiled, nodding as you stirred your steaming coffee so you had an excuse not to look him in the eyes. He seemed older than you, you could tell by the way he was sitting and his manner of speaking. Also because of the way he's not dressed like guys your age. "How about you?"

That was your low-key attempt at asking his age.

"I graduated a few years ago," he shrugged before taking his iced coffee and sipping from the glass straw.

"Ah, I see, you're an oppa," you noted, nodding again as you blew on your cup. You stopped in your tracks, realizing belatedly the implication of your reply. You looked up at him and sure enough, he had a confused smile on his lips. You briskly sat up and shook your head and hands at him. "No, no, I mean, like you're older than me. That's all. I'm not trying to flirt or anything."

He just nodded with his eyebrows, smiling wider with his lips together before returning to his book. "What's your name?"

You fumbled with the thoughts in your head, suddenly forgetting your own name upon being asked what it was. After clearing your throat to silence your crazed brain, you told him your name and threw in that you're a senior Linguistics student.

"Linguistics have Plato?" he asked, referring to the subject you mentioned a while ago.

"No, but I took an elective."

"Hmmh, you seem to have plenty of time," he replied, eyes still glued on his book. "Seungcheol."

"Huh?"

His eyes fluttered to you. "My name. It's Choi Seungcheol."

"Oh, I wasn't ask— I mean, yeah, nice to meet you, Seungcheol-nim."

Seungcheol flattened his lips together in a smile before shifting his gaze back to the book. You smiled back, although his eyes had already left you. After that brief exchange, you both plunged into your own worlds, reading books in two different mediums, immersing yourselves in two different types of literature, and drinking coffee at two different temperatures. The little nook you shared was quiet, even with the chattering around the cafe and the consistent giggling when the handsome part-timer would smile at a random someone among the customers. You were so immersed in your own little world that you lost track of time, only realizing how long you've been sitting there when you touched your cup and it has gone cold. Seungcheol's spot in front of you is empty. The rain has stopped too, leaving a mist behind that fogged the glass.

"Okay. I will stop here because I have self-control and John Green will still be here when I come back to it," you whispered to yourself, like a mantra to keep yourself from using up all of your time doing something you consider to be unproductive.

As you tucked away your reading tablet, you spotted a piece of untouched donut on the table and a note with it that said: It was nice to meet you, Y/N. - SC

"You ate it? You ate it?!" Seolhee, your roommate, hollered at you when you told her about meeting Seungcheol and the donut he left for you. "You ate a donut from a stranger?"

"Technically, he's no longer a stranger. I already knew him when he gave me that."

"Yeah, for three hours!"

You sighed, lying on the couch. "You're missing the point."

"No, you're missing the point. You ate food left to you by a stranger. What if he was some creepy old guy who's slipping chemicals on women's food and then abducts them?"

"Okay. You do have a point," you told her, sitting back up again. "But first, he's not creepy old, maybe like three or four years older. Second, it was at The Coffeehouse. What kind of psycho kidnapper would abduct women in broad daylight and in a crowded cafe? And third, he just didn't strike me as a bad guy. I mean, he seemed completely normal, educated even. And you know I have a good eye for people."

"Yes, you have. But you can't entrust your safety to intuition alone. For all we know, it could be a ploy. Get you to warm up to him before he abducts you and leaves you in a ditch, naked and lifeless."

You shook your head. Criminal Psychology had Seolhee thinking the worst things about people, but you don't blame her because she obviously had a point and you were admittedly being naive when you did what you did. Still, you stood by your initial impression of Choi Seungcheol; he's a decent guy.

"So, is he handsome?" Yoori asked, just as she had finished doing her makeup in front of the mirror.

"Yoori!" Seolhee chided but your other roommate just shrugged.

"What? If you're wrong, and he really was a decent guy, then we have to know if he was good-looking enough for our girl."

"Why does that matter?" Seolhee questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because he might have a crush on her. He left y/n a donut and a note. That's something a guy won't do unless he has a reason to."

"He's old."

"No, he's just a little older," Yoori corrected, jumping over to your side of the couch. "So, how much older is he? You know, older guys are way more attractive. They're mature and open-minded. Sometimes they can be a little intense too, but that's the best thing about them."

"Intense?" you asked and she scooted closer to whisper in your ear.

"Oh, you know..." In a lower but clearly audible voice, she said, "Intense and experienced."

"Okay. You're done," Seolhee announced, tapping your shoulder repeatedly. "Get up and go to bed. You have class."

But Yoori grabbed your head and locked it in a hug. "Hey, don't baby my y/n. She's old enough for that conversation! She even brought a guy here before!"

You slipped away from her grasp and ran to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you as you heard them bicker. It's one thing to live with roommates, but it's another when said roommates are two people with different personalities who are dating steadily. Seolhee and Yoori are such people. You liked living with them but ever since you moved in, they started treating you like their very own daughter even when you're literally the same age. You gotta admit though, it feels good to be taken care of.

Your coffee runs went on as usual; just dropping by to grab a cup and then leaving. Sitting around a cafe isn't really something you habitually do, especially when you're alone. Even though you were curious about Seungcheol, you never thought about sharing a table with him again or turning your spontaneous acquaintance into an actual friendly relationship. Admittedly though, each time you went to the cafe, you found yourself looking around to see if he was there but so far you haven't seen him again since that one rainy Saturday. You assumed he wasn't a regular but it could also be the timing of your visits. Either way, he only ever crossed your mind when you're at the cafe. Then two weeks in, it got to a point where your eyes automatically scanned the cafe in search of him and when you realized that you had subconsciously associated him with the cafe, you felt like a foolish teenager with a massive crush on someone.

"I gotta stop doing that," you chided yourself after you walked inside the cafe and did your routine quick scan of the place.

"Doing what?" Yoori asked, both her and Seolhee casting curious gazes at you.

You shook your head and nervously replied with the first excuse you came up with, "Talking to myself."

You looked for a vacant table while your roommates ordered the food. As you did, you spotted the corner table you shared with Seungcheol and found him sitting there by himself, reading a book. Seeing him there made your heart race, an unfamiliar kind of nervousness creeping into your chest. Seungcheol looked unfamiliar too, as if it was the first time you'd laid eyes on him. But then again, you never really got the chance to get to know him properly, let alone take the time to familiarize what he looks like.

"Who's that?" you heard Seolhee ask and only then did you realize you were staring at Seungcheol.

"No one," you said briskly, sounding defensive. You folded when Seolhee gave you a skeptical gaze. "I mean, someone. That's the guy I told you about. Choi Seungcheol."

"Choi Seungcheol?" Seolhee grimaced but Yoori gasped. "That name rings a bell."

"Seungcheol? The donut guy?" asked Yoori to whom you responded with a nod. "Well, isn't he a looker?"

"He is, but stop looking. You guys are embarrassing," you scolded quietly, tugging Yoori's hand to sit her down. You talked about random stuff for a while, eating your second breakfast between conversations. Yoori, however, can't seem to get over seeing Seungcheol for the first time.

"You should go say hi to him or something," she chimed when she caught you staring in his direction for the nth time. You chuckled incredulously, acting like you just heard a ridiculous suggestion.

"Why should I?" you questioned, hiding your nervousness behind your mug as you sipped from it.

"You can't stop looking over there. You might as well just approach him."

You didn't, of course. But you saw him stand up and get ready to leave. Just as he was passing by your table, he gave you a smile and an acknowledging nod that you returned politely. It was a fleeting exchange, almost unnoticed but you knew your friends saw that. As soon as he was far enough, Seolhee tapped your arm.

"I know that guy. Choi Seungcheol, was it? He's friends with the professor I am currently working for as a TA," she announced.

"He is?" you questioned, glancing briefly at Seungcheol who's now standing by the doorway, chatting a coffeeshop staff. "Does he teach?"

Seolhee crossed her arms over her chest, thinking. "I don't think so. From what I know, he's probably a lawyer or something. He graduated law school here three years ago and he's older than us by... five years, I think?"

"How do you know all that?" asked Yoori.

"I told you, he's friends with the prof. He comes by sometimes and they chat. Sometimes I hear them talking so I pick up things. They seem close too. They're probably related."

You just shrugged, intrigued to know a little about him but you're also less curious now that you know he's not only older but old enough to have a decent job and have his life figured out. Now that you've thought about it, you realize he's an intellectual. He went to law school, reads Plato to pass the time, and even has a professor for a friend. You can claim yourself to be an academic but not to that extent. Choi Seungcheol is in a different league and your tiny little crush on him faded after finding out how much gap the two of you have, both in age and way of life. You don't even want to begin imagining the possibility that he's wealthy too.

Studying is hard, but for someone who's got nothing else going on with her life, you've grown to love school and studying. College life gave you enough to live a fun life; classes, friends, and hobbies, even dreams and aspirations. It has its advantages but it also has its drawbacks that you dislike so much, like deadlines and homework. As you sat on a tall stool by the long window table at The Coffeehouse, you glared at the words on your computer, muttering curses under your breath. It was late in the evening when you arrived with heavy feet, having no choice but to do your homework here because your roommates had a little party going on in your shared apartment. You had a written task you forgot about and only remembered when a friend from the same class mentioned it to you earlier that evening. Now you have to pull an all-nighter to finish a ten-page in-depth analysis of a famous speech. Is it possible to finish in one night what would have taken at least two days to complete? You blew the hair out of your face again, squinting at the words while a part of the speech played on a loop through your earphones. You could swear you've memorized every word uttered by this person, even the timing of the pauses and the occasional clearing of his throat. If this goes on, you'd go nuts. Time check, 12:45 midnight.

"Okay! Four pages: done, six more to go," you blurted, stretching your arms to start typing again. Downing more of your hot coffee, you focused on the sounds from your earphones. Oblivious to your surroundings, you have cut yourself off from the world, eyes not leaving your screen while you type everything that comes to mind. And when you finally wrote the last line for your paper, you raised your hands in the air to celebrate. Even boasting to yourself when you see the time. "2:15? See, finished it in five hours, no sweat."

You pulled the earphones out of your ears, breathing a sigh of relief as you reached for your cup. Only then did you notice several empty cups sitting next to the warm one you just touched. A strange thing to see because you don't remember ordering this many. Come to think of it, you never ordered a refill but your coffee stayed warm and full the whole time you were working.

"You did great," said the man sitting one chair away. You recognized Seungcheol, eyes fixed on his book while leaning on the backrest of the stool.

"Seungcheol-nim..." you trailed off, wondering if you were right to think he had been reordering your coffee while you were working on your assignment. "Have you been here the whole time?"

His eyes fluttered over to the empty cups and to you, then back to his book. "I was here before you."

"No way, have you been refilling my cup?" you questioned when you noticed that he was drinking iced coffee.

He flipped a page and exhaled. "You look like you could use a few more cups while working," he replied.

You felt your cheeks flare, making you stare into your computer screen then shut your eyes to calm down. If there's one thing you're shy to admit, it's the fact that your heart is fragile for even the smallest acts of service. Imagine this much thoughtfulness from someone you just met? And someone really attractive at that? You'd be head over heels in no time! That can't happen!

"Why though?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "You were too passionate with what you're doing. I was touched."

You weren't sure if he was joking but that made you laugh. "Well, thanks? I guess? I appreciate it."

He gave you a brief glance and nodded. "Anytime."

You looked around the cafe, taking notice of the students with their laptops and sleepy eyes fixated on their screens. It was quiet but you could almost hear the chaos in your fellow students' heads as they worked and studied. Other customers were just lounging, but most of the people there were college students.

"Wow, this place looks miserable," you sighed, returning to your own laptop to save your work. "I guess it's true what they said about this cafe."

"What do they say?" asked Seungcheol, closing his book and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked warm in his brown coat, and you were reminded of the age gap again when you compared his coat to your cartoon sweater. Does he not even dress casually when he lounges at a cafe late at night?

"They say this place becomes a graveyard after midnight," you replied, chuckling. "I mean, every student looks close to dying. Including me."

Seungcheol smiled. "Back in my day, this was a pork belly barbecue restaurant."

"It was?" you questioned, genuinely amazed. But then a snort came out of your mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that you sounded so old when you said, 'Back in my day'."

Seungcheol chuckled this time. "To be fair, it has been a while and this place looks nothing like it did before. Here, let me show you."

He fished his phone from his coat's pocket and toggled on his screen for a moment before leaning closer to show you a photo. It was of him with some other people and he looked younger in it. You assumed it was when he was still in college and took notice of the place around him. It was a bit shabby, with smoke around, writing on the walls, and barbecue tables all around. It looks nothing like the posh and clean interior of the cafe now.

"This was six years ago while I was in undergrad school. Different, isn't it?"

You nodded in agreement, genuinely impressed by his revelation. "It is. Hard to believe this was the same building." You looked around the cafe. "What happened to that restaurant?"

"The owner passed away a few years back," he replied. "The building was renovated shortly after."

"Well, damn. That got sad pretty fast." You flattened your lips together. "You looked cute when you were a student though."

Your last comment made Seungcheol chuckle. "Thanks?" he replied, sounding unconvinced.

"Right, by the way, if you don't mind me asking," you began, moving to occupy the seat between the two of you. "What do you do for a living?"

"What do I do?"

You nodded with enthusiasm. "Yeah. I have this friend who said you were close with a professor she was assisting. I got curious about your job because you have this academic vibe."

Seungcheol's shoulders rocked as he laughed. "Do I now?"

You smiled sheepishly. "No, not really. But you seem like one. Given your choice of books and professor friend."

He nodded affirmatively. "I can see how you came to that conclusion."

"See, even the way you talk is intelligent," you commented and that seemed to have caught him off-guard, making him laugh shyly and look away for a second.

"Do you always speak that way?"

Your hands flew over your mouth, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Why? How do I speak?"

"Like you're empowering people by praising them too much," he replied. "Or do you do it unknowingly?"

"Is that how I sounded? Wow, that explains a lot of things," you blurted, recalling all the times you got unwanted attention from guys who claimed you were flirting with them.

"Like what?"

"What?" you retorted, refusing to answer honestly.

"Never mind, but to answer your question, I'm not really an academic, whatever you think that is." He paused and appeared to hesitate before saying, "I'm a liar."

"A lawyer?"

"No, a liar."

"Yes, a lawyer," you repeated, chuckling as you took a sip from your still-warm cup of coffee. "I figured that much after finding out you went to law school."

"You know an awful lot about me," he quipped so you shook your head in denial.

"No. Just that bit." You paused, realizing you knew more than that bit. "And your professor friend. And maybe your... age... too..."

"My age? Were you curious about my age?"

Yes. "No," you lied, laughing derisively. "It just came up during the one time when we talked about you. Once."

Seungcheol chuckled heartily. "Alright, if you say so."

You were still reeling in embarrassment when your phone buzzed, signaling a message from Yoori. She was asking if you're still out and when you'd be back so you took that as your cue to leave.

"I have to go. It's way past my bedtime," you quipped, pointing at your wristwatch. That prompted Seungcheol to check his too.

"Yeah, looks like it." He smiled at you, a friendly smile that you knew you'd be seeing again sometime. "Good luck with your assignment."

"Ugh, don't remind me." You rolled your eyes as you finished packing up your stuff. "See you around, Seungcheol-nim."

Your little meet-ups with Seungcheol were spontaneous and mostly happened when you least expected it. But over time, you got familiar with his patterns and found out he was there at random but at specific times of day; either late in the morning or late at night. Most of the time, you catch him there late in the morning, in the quiet nook he seemed to have reserved for himself or the long table by the windows. Whenever he sees you walk in by yourself, he offers to share his table where you would lose track of time just talking. The subjects of your conversations were random, often mundane but interesting enough to keep discussing. In these encounters, you found out how, despite your differences in preferences, you share common interests in literature, coffee, and music. He still speaks like an older guy, and his insights were interesting. More often than not, your opinions agree with each other. On the rare occasions when it doesn't, you're always the first to call him out, sparking a friendly debate that lets you in on his deep thoughts about the matter. While the age gap isn't that much and most people his age are good enough with technology and trends, Seungcheol admits he does not indulge too much in such things. This became something you would always tease him about.

"Is this seat taken?" you asked the moment you caught him by himself at his usual table. He panicked at your arrival, closing his book at once and hiding it under his hands.

"No classes today?" he casually asked but you already have your eyes on the book he was hiding. You sat across from him and placed your stuff on the vacant chair.

"Not until 2:30. What's that you got there?" you hinted, grinning mischievously before trying to snatch it. Seungcheol was quick to hide it and pretended not to know what you meant, looking around stupidly. "You don't have to hide it. I know that book. I saw it when I came in. I thought you're not a fan of romance novels?"

Seungcheol quietly took the book out of his coat and placed it on the table with a flustered expression. "I'm not but I do read a few. And this is a good book."

You grimaced. "Wait till you finish reading it."

"I have actually. I like to re-read this from time to time," he confessed, clearing his throat as if he was embarrassed to say what he just said.

Now you're straight-up giving him a judging gaze. "No, you don't."

"I do."

"But it's terrible. The author portrayed love in the most clichéd way possible and she wrote the most boring main character ever with no character development and ended up leaving everything behind for a guy. She started as a damsel in distress that needed saving and she stayed that way until a macho male character saved her. So boring."

"I disagree. The story is set in the 1500s when opportunities were scarce for women. She was denied a lot of things and had to live a life mapped out for her by society and other people. Her love interest was a man with access to limitless privileges. And while I do admire headstrong and independent female protagonists, I also think it's alright to get out of a bad place with someone else's help."

"I have to admit, that's a good point. But that's not the only problem. The author wrote a perfect love interest. He's too nice and charismatic. Also consistent and cares about her thoughts et cetera. He's too good to be true. And the way he pined for her and never gave up on her? Unrealistic! That's where I draw the line."

"I thought you didn't finish it?" he teased. "You seem to know the story better than I do."

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. "I had to force myself to finish it because it was for an assignment. I remember writing an analysis and a vicious critique on it."

"Did your professor agree with you though?"

"Hah! Of course not! But she still gave me a good grade for my work. Her insights were the same as yours, actually. Obviously, people can have different opinions about the same things. So, you're entitled to your own opinions just as I am to mine," you replied, chiming as you recalled that particular time in your life.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, as if challenging you to argue your claim.

"I have. That's why I know the author made a fantasy version of love."

"You don't know that. What's fantasy to you might be reality for her. Or to whoever it was that she got the inspiration from."

You scoffed, "Seungcheol-nim, love is subjective. You can continue enjoying that book. You don't have to convince me. My last relationship showed me an entirely different version of romance. While he seemed like the man from the novel at the very beginning, with his handwritten letters and sweet-smelling flowers, it took him four months to show his true colors. He dated three women while we were together. Three! And we're all from the same university!"

Seungcheol looked appalled. "He did?"

"Yes! Gosh, he was an absolute jerk. I always wondered how he got away with it for that long."

"That's relatable, somehow," he commented, making you snigger.

"What? You got cheated on too?" you asked but then you saw him hesitate so you shook your hands at him. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to. I'm only comfortable telling you about my ex because I believe more people should know what a scumbag he is."

He laughed upon hearing that. "Alright, but did that last relationship change how you think about love at all?"

You crossed your arms over your chest and confidently said, "Of course not. All I got from that experience was that he was a jerk, and love is a different experience each time. I know not everyone will treat me the same way. I've had good relationships before that."

"If any of it were good, it wouldn't have ended and you wouldn't have met your last ex." His comment made you scowl and snicker.

"So you're like a love expert now?" you teased so he laughed heartily. "I mean, I had no idea I could talk to you about love and romances like this."

"Honestly? Me too," he laughed, tapping the book on the table. "This book has this effect on me, I guess."

After a few more criticisms about the book, you and Seungcheol let the hours tick by just talking. Lunchtime came soon enough and you had to leave first because you made plans with some friends to eat lunch together.

"Ah, can I get your number?" he asked just as you were about to leave. He handed his phone to you and added, "If you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure," you told him, taking his cell to type in your number. You've been talking and hanging out with Seungcheol for almost a month already, but this is the first time he asked you for your number. Not that he has to because you two never really needed to talk remotely. Thinking about it now, you don't really have anything to talk about on the phone. Maybe that's why he never asked for your number before nor did you wonder why you don't have his. Sure, you follow each other on social media, but asking for your number means you are closer now and will probably start texting each other.

You were right. When you got home after school that day, you received a text message from him, introducing himself and asking you to save his phone number. Turns out Seungcheol is going out of town for work and wants to keep in touch.

Seungcheol: Execs are boring. I could use someone to talk to.

You: it's okay to admit that you chose me because you don't have other friends

You grinned mischievously after sending your reply, happy to tease him. You once asked him why he's always alone when you find him in the cafe and the subject ended with you concluding that he had no friends. It has since become an inside joke between the two of you that you would sometimes tease him about.

Seungcheol: I do have friends but I'll admit I enjoy our talks more than with any of them.

You: Okay, Seungcheol-nim.

Seungcheol: Speak comfortably, y/n. You don't have to keep calling me Seungcheol-nim.

You: ??? You: I'm used to it now tho You: It would be weird to start calling you oppa LOL

Seungcheol: Why is that weird? I'm older so technically, I am your oppa.

Shock triggered your hand to lose grip on your phone and send it falling on your forehead, making you yelp and sit up from the bed. Groaning, you pressed the throbbing space between your eyebrows and picked up the device to reread Seungcheol's message.

"Wow," you sneered. "Choi Seungcheol, you handsome specimen, you better not be flirting with me."

You: Alright, then, Seungcheol-oppa.

"Because I will flirt right back," you mumbled, unable to hide your grin.

You had no idea at the time that your little nook in the cafe was about to expand and take up a bigger space in your lives.

Texting Seungcheol was funny to you because it eerily felt like an email correspondence. He sounded serious all the time and formatted his texts in a standard manner. He's too formal and rarely ever used emojis. He reacts with a plain 'hahaha' and the best you can get out of him is a 'lol'. It was probably because he's a lawyer; the formal nature of his job must have influenced even his basic activities, like casual chatting and texting. Surely it has to be that because there is no way he's too old to know how to use emojis or any slang. After all, five years ain't that much of a gap.

Seungcheol: Yes, it is extremely boring but this will all be over tomorrow so I'm holding out.

You: damn You: 1 more day of listening to old men talk all day? You: couldn't be me. You: I'd be gone on the first day. props to you for surviving the past three days tho

Seungcheol: lol hahaha

"Eh? Did he really just 'lol hahaha' me?" You squinted at your screen, glaring too much that you thought your eyes might bore a hole through your phone. Your thumb tapped the call button before pressing the device to your ear.

Seungcheol picked up almost immediately, clearing his throat on the other line before greeting you with a "Hello?"

"Is now a bad time for a call?"

"The day is over and I'm in my suite now so no, it's not a bad time."

You nodded, although he couldn't see it. "Good. My fingers are tired," you lied because you thought it would be rude to tell him you can't handle any more of his boring standard text formatting.

"Really? You could just tell me, you know. We can call it a day. Get some rest. Talk again tomorrow."

His voice reverberated beautifully in your ears; calm, well-articulated, and soothing, like mellow music playing in a cafe. That alone was enough for your heart to feel at ease but he just said you can talk again tomorrow. He's saying he wants to continue your little chats. He's enjoying your company even though it's only through the phone. Maybe you're right, but maybe you're reading too much on something that has no meaning at all. Either way, your heart swelled with excitement and joy along with a tiny ache that you can't explain. You knew this feeling since you've felt it before. The friendship you have with Seungcheol is starting to make your heart flutter.

"Hah!" you scoffed at your own thoughts. "Alright then. Good night, Seungcheol-nim."

"Or we could talk now too! Now!" he blurted in a panic, making you laugh. "I mean, if you're not tired yet. We could keep talking. Isn't this better than texting?"

"It is," you agreed. "But what can I do? It's already past my bedtime."

Seungcheol chuckled. "I thought your bedtime was at 3?"

"It's constantly changing. It's the era of drastic changes, Seungcheol-nim. Adaptability is a good edge," you jested. You can hear him laughing from the other side and couldn't help grinning to yourself. He sounded so humored that you felt a little proud of your wit.

"Right," he said as he stopped laughing and cleared his throat. "So is it your bedtime yet or what?"

"No. My bedtime changed thirty seconds ago. Adaptability, you know."

He went on to laugh again, making you grin fondly. It wasn't even that funny but he's laughing like he's in a standup bar or something. Either way, the sound that's filling your ears is also making your heart feel full.

The next morning, Seolhee complained about you being a tad too loud last night with your laughter and giggling. That caught you off-guard, making you hide your phone after sending a reply to Seungcheol's message.

"Sorry. I was on the phone with someone," you confessed, scrunching your nose cutely as you watched Seolhee take her seat on the dining table.

"Have you started seeing someone again?" she speculated. "You talked for hours last night so it must be serious."

You shook your head. "No, duh. It's just Seungcheol-nim."

"Choi Seungcheol?" Yoori asked, placing a plate of side dishes on the table. "You're dating Seungcheol now? Good for you, girl!"

"What? No!" you strongly denied. "We were just talking. It was a friendly chat."

"Friendly chats don't go on until past midnight, y/n," Seolhee hinted, giving you a knowing look. "Whatever it is that you think have with him right now, you better confirm it before you go falling for him. I know he's charming and all that but safeguard your heart."

Yoori hummed affirmatively. "She's right but falling for him is not that bad an idea. He seemed nice."

"He does seem nice but you have to first make sure you're on the same page. The earlier you know, the better. You can't wait until you've fallen for him before you ask what his intentions are."

You would never bring up relationships with Seungcheol, especially between the two of you. It would only make things awkward between you if it turns out he was just being friendly and even more so if you find out that he was looking to date you. Why? He is a wonderful guy, but there are a lot of things to consider. You don't know his background despite knowing his hobbies, his dislikes, his habits, etc. You can't help but think Cheol had been hiding behind a persona the whole time or that he isn't willing to properly open up to you. Sure, you're up close and personal, but there's a fine line between who he is with you and who he is as a person. Somehow it felt like you knew a lot about him but not enough to really know who he is.

So you sat in front of your computer, looking through his Instagram account for any clue about his life. Based on the dates of his posts, he rarely updated his feed and probably never used the site that much. He had random pictures posted there but he didn't have one of himself except on a handful of group pictures. His profile picture isn't even of himself but a dog.

"So he has a pet, huh?" you mumbled, smiling at the pictures of a cute Maltese dog. "Of course, he has one. He looked like the kind who would have one. I wonder who takes care of it when he's away or when he's at work."

You were still scrolling through his posts when your phone buzzed, signaling a message. It was Seungcheol. "Wow, you really should not speak of the devil."

Seungcheol: Any plans tomorrow night? I have two tickets to a concert. You can have the other one if you want it.

You grimaced. "Or you could just invite me to go with you like a normal person."

You pouted as you thought about what to say but then something in your mind clicked, sending your heart on a rampage. Could it be that he's inviting you to go with him? Obviously, he is, right? He said he had two tickets and he'll give you one. That's it, right? That's the invite!

"Oh lord," you blurted, closing your laptop and tucking it into your bag before you went running out of the cafe. You typed in a hurried reply as you walked briskly back to your shared apartment.

Barging into your apartment and closing the door with a loud slam, you stared wide-eyed at Seolhee and Yoori who looked back at you curiously.

"I think Seungcheol-oppa just invited me out on a date."

"And?" Seolhee asked while Yoori was suppressing excited squeals.

"And I might have said 'yes'."

Seolhee was stern about your ambiguity. You said you were invited, but you also said it wasn't an explicit invitation. Still, she helped you prepare for the date along with Yoori who was just leaping with joy.

"Remember, he didn't say it was a date. So don't overthink it," Seolhe told you while styling your hair on the night of said date. "As long as he doesn't say it out loud, there is no real relationship between you other than a friendly relationship."

"Remember also to enjoy the night," Yoori interjected. "Don't let negativity ruin the experience."

“Now, where is he? Didn’t he say he’d pick you up?” Seolhee asked as soon as you were ready to leave. Dressing up took a while because you couldn’t decide which dress to wear and what look to go with. It’s a classical music concert and the dress code was black tie. Thankfully, your roommates were eager to help.

“He should be here by now,” you replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. At that moment, the doorbell of your shared apartment rang.

Cheol was dashing in his suit. He had always looked attractive in casual clothing–a shirt, a jacket, or a layer of coats and shirts. But seeing him all dressed up made you giddy. Even his hair is styled neatly. He greeted your friends and had a small talk before you got into his car. You know he drives a car, but you've never really seen him in it. When you pointed that out, he said the cafe was close by so he always walked there. 

"Are we neighbors?" you had asked.

And he replied with, "No, not really. I go the opposite way from your apartment. So, we’ve been meeting halfway all this time."

The concert was fancy, not your type of scene but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Even the people looked wealthy. It was a hall filled with all kinds of people who exuded an air of elegance, power, or authority about them. As if that’s not intimidating enough, you and Seungcheol had to sit in a private booth on the second floor, away from the regular crowd, with just about five other people there with you. They said your guts would know if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, perhaps that’s why your belly is turning. 

You weren't poor, but you're not rich enough to afford these types of pastimes either. Your parents are self-made businessmen who are earning enough to be in the upper-middle-class society. Still, even an occasional, super rare splurge on shopping is a luxury. Thus, you started to wonder what Sungcheol does for a living. Is he self-made? Do lawyers earn a lot? Or did he come from a wealthy family? It must be his family because operas and classical music are usually acquired tastes.

The concert ended and was met with a standing ovation. Heck, even the way these people clapped was elegant, like there was a certain discipline to it. No cheering, no hoots and whistles, just synchronous, pleasant-sounding clapping. 

You were still clapping when you felt Seungcheol’s shoulder on yours. He was leaning to your ear, whispering, “Come meet my parents.”

“Your what?” you blurted, surprised. Before you could utter another word, however, Seungcheol was already tugging on your waist, ushering you toward the other side of the booth. You spotted two elders who you assumed were his parents. With them was a younger man who just said something that made the elegant lady laugh.

Then the younger man caught sight of you and smiled widely. “It’s Seungcheol!”

“Mother, Father,” Seungcheol greeted as soon as you got closer to where they were standing. You clenched your fists, hoping to stop them from jittering. “Good to see you.”

Mother? Father? Don’t people usually call their parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’?

“Hello, hunny,” his mother beamed, welcoming Seungcheol in her arms when he moved to hug her. And while his father was shaking hands with him, his mother eyed you curiously. “And who is this lovely lady?”

“Oh, um–”

“This is my friend, y/n,” Seungcheol introduced. “She’s joining me this evening.”

“So I see,” the Mother chimed. She glided over to you for a quick embrace. “It’s nice to meet you, darling.”

“It’s good to meet you too,” you replied with a smile. “You raised an excellent man.”

His mother laughed heartily, flattered. “I wouldn’t boast about it, but he did grow up excellently.”

You shared a giggle before Seungcheol’s father spoke to you. “Are you a friend from work? You look quite young to be a lawyer. Fresh from the bar exams, I take it?”

“Uh, no,” you replied, trying your best to not appear nervous. “I’m actually still a student. AB Linguistics.”

“Ah, I see,” his father hummed. “Linguistics? That’s a good program.”

“Thank you, sir,” you beamed. “I enjoy it very much.”

“As you should. Seunghan here is pursuing Linguistics too. He’s in his fourth year.”

Seunghan, Seungcheol’s brother smiled widely at you. You smiled back and said, “I’m in my fourth year too.”

“Really? Wow, are we the same age?” he asked, genuinely amazed. He turned to Seungcheol. “We’re the same age? I almost called her Noona.”

Seungcheol was about to respond when a woman interjected with a cheery greeting. It was the cellist from the concert, the star of this event. She first went to greet Seunghan and then the parents.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she told the father, who smiled in response.

“It was an impressive performance. You did well,” he praised. 

“Mom, you’re glowing,” she told Seungcheol’s mother. “You look even prettier than the last time we saw each other.”

“Oh, you sweet little fox,” his mother chided, but she was giggling and touching her face. The woman’s statement seemed to have flattered her more than when you said her son was excellent. And she called her Mom, she must be family.

“Oppa!” she exclaimed, leaping a little to wrap her arms around Seungcheol whose arms were still around your waist. You got pushed aside, violently, and fell on the floor with a thud. 

Embarrassment made your cheeks flare as you hurriedly stood. Seungcheol helped you up, worriedly asking if you were alright. 

“I’m sorry,” the other woman apologized. “I didn’t think that would happen. How clumsy of me.”

You smiled half-heartedly, looking away from everyone’s worried gazes. “I’m fine,” you told Seungcheol who was still eyeing you with concern. You patted your dress down, feeling extremely shy. 

Then the woman held out her hand, “I’m Mina. Nice to meet you.”

You stared at the hand for a moment before taking it in yours and telling her your name. “It was a great concert. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you liked it,” she smiled, then looked at Seungcheol. “Is she your friend? I’ve never seen her before.”

“She is,” he replied curtly. You couldn’t help noticing Mina’s elegant demeanor. She exuded elegance and class that you’ve only seen on TV shows about rich people. The way she spoke was beautiful and enticing. Even her motions were so fluid and beautiful, plus her mannerisms were cute. It was like being in the presence of someone who is hundreds of times better than regular people–than you are.

“Anyway, thanks again for coming, oppa,” Mina told Seungcheol, patting his shoulder before placing her hands on both. She flashed a sweet, coquettish smile and leaned to kiss Seungcheol on his cheek. “See you again soon?”

“Okay,” Seungcheol replied, flattening his lips into a smile.

Mina turned to you, her hand sliding naturally on Seungcheol’s arm and linking it there. “It was nice to meet you, y/n. Good thing you’re not dating because that would have been so awkward.” She laughed.

"No, we're just friends,” Seungcheol iterated.

“I know. You already said so, oppa,” Mina beamed. “I have to go. Thanks for coming and see you next time.”

She then fled the booth, leaving you and Sungcheol there by yourselves. His parents left a while ago, telling you to catch up with Mina. Seunghan didn’t stay for long too, and left shortly after their parents. Your eyes flitted over to Seungcheol who was still looking at the door Mina exited on. You even witnessed the heavy sigh he let out a few minutes later before turning to you.

“Shall we go?”

You nodded in response. He offered his arm for you to hold on to and you did just that as you walked out of the booth, to the hall, to the lobby, until you reached the entrance where his car was being driven out of the parking lot by the valet. The first few minutes of the ride home were quiet and it was stressing you out. He should at least say something to fix this awkward atmosphere. Maybe, you should. But you had no idea what to talk about.

Should you ask him about his family? Or Mina? What do you have to lose? He brought you here so he should expect you to have questions. This is one way to get to know each other, right? Right.

“How do you know the cellist?” you began, eliciting an inquiring hum from Seungcheol. “Mina, the cellist. You seem to know each other.”

“Ah, her,” he acknowledged, pausing. “Yeah, we knew each other. We used to be in a relationship.”

You expected this to be the answer, but it still shocked you to hear him confirm it. “I see.”

“We broke up a long time ago. She had to leave and study music abroad. It couldn’t be helped.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed. You couldn’t say anything because your mind was focusing on the slight but stabbing pain in your chest. You were, in fact, feeling a little jealous. Mina was everything you’re not. She’s close with his family too and they have a history. Maybe Seungcheol was just being friendly, after all. 

When you arrived home, your roommates were excited to hear about the date, but you told them you were tired and wanted to sleep. As thoughts floated through your mind endlessly, you wondered if he brought you to the concert as a decor to make his ex jealous. That made you even sadder but you told yourself you were overthinking it and you know he is not that kind of guy. 

And then again, if you think about it, did you really truly know him that well?

You hadn't heard from Seungcheol for a while after the concert. Sad, but it was fine too because you weren't really looking for him. You had a crush on the guy, but it was over before it got deeper–which was good because now you don’t have to think about him all the time. School was demanding enough, you can’t have a guy distracting you from that.

And yet, despite your constant denial, not a day passed by without Seungcheol crossing your mind. What can you do? You don’t just forget someone overnight, especially if you like that person. Funnily enough, thoughts of Seungcheol never distracted you from your studies, instead, they made you want to work harder.

That said, you sat at a table at The Coffeehouse with a classmate to work on a project. His name was Jinwoo and he’s been flirting with you all semester. In fact, he paired up with you on this project just so he could spend time with you–he said so himself. He’s alright; charming, smart, and cute. Although you had no intentions of going out with him yet, you thought it would be fine to see where things would go. Especially with Seungcheol out of your hair.

“Seungcheol-nim?” you blurted. You were just thinking about Seungcheol when you realized the person who approached your table just now was him.

“Hello, y/n. How have you been?” He was asking you, but his eyes were fixated on Jinwoo, who only noticed Seungcheol when you called out his name.

“I’ve been well,” you replied hesitantly, recognizing his intense gaze on your classmate. “This is Jinwoo. We’re working on a project together.”

“A project?” he asked, his face softening as he glanced at you. “Good. I texted you.”

“Oh, you did?” You fished your phone from your bag and saw that he did message you; one from last night and another a few hours ago. “Sorry. I was working on school stuff. I haven’t been checking my phone much.”

“Alright. I won’t disturb you. Good luck,” he smiled.

“Yeah, I’ll text you later.”

“You don’t have to. But I’ll call you after dinner.”

You tilted your head in wonder. But you still said, “Okay.”

And he did, he called you at around 8 that night and asked how your day went. It wasn't strange to tell him how your day went. That had always been your topic every time you called each other at night. But Sungcheol seemed overly interested in it today. He kept asking more questions instead of responding to your answers with a few accounts of his own day. When he seemed to have run out of anything to ask about your day, he asked about your partner on the project. 

"So, do you always get paired up with that guy?" 

Your brows creased. "That guy? Jinwoo?" 

He changed his question. "Never mind. How long have you been working on that paper?"

 "Just a few days,” you replied, lying down to stare at the ceiling.

"Three days?" he asked from the other line.

"Now that you mentioned it, yes, it's been three days. How'd you guess that?"

Sungcheol huffed. "I just did." 

"You just did?"

"We haven't talked for three days, so I just pieced it together."

"I see," you hummed, nodding even though you know he can't see it. You squinted your eyes, realizing something in his tone and attitude ever since you started this conversation. "Seungcheol-nim, is this an interrogation?"

"And there's that too," he sighed from the other line. You can almost picture how his already pouty lips are pouting even more along with the creasing of his forehead. 

"What?" you asked.

"Seungcheol-nim."

"Huh?"

"Seungcheol-nim. When did you decide to go back to calling me that?"

"Oh, that? Just recently."

"Why is that?"

Because you found out his ex called him oppa and is still calling him that. "Just because. It shouldn't matter. How I address you is not that big of a deal."

"It's not?"

"No. It's not."

"Alright."

"Alright."

"Alright..." he echoed. You had nothing else to say to that, so you just breathed. The thoughts swimming in your head don't make sense, but you let them keep your mind busy instead of overthinking this whole conversation with Seungcheol. He's gone quiet too, probably running out of anything else to say. Or probably thinking random thoughts like you are. But it looks like he didn't want to end the call and of course, you don't really want to either.

"Seungcheol-nim?" Breathing. All you can hear from the other line is breathing; deep inhales and calm exhales from him that make you assume he had fallen asleep.

"Are you sleeping?" you asked but again, all you could hear was calm breathing. You pictured him on his bed, one hand pressing the phone on his ear and the other resting on his abdomen. You pictured the rise and fall of his chest with every inhale of air that you can hear. You pictured his face, peaceful and handsome even with his eyes closed. These are the thoughts and images that filled your head as you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing

Your phone was dead when you woke up in the morning, making you wonder how long were you on the phone with Seungcheol; if he really was asleep the whole time, or if he woke up and hung up sometime in the night. As soon as you turned it on after a quick trip to the bathroom, you found a message from him.

Seungcheol: Working all day today. Cafe tonight? My treat.

You smiled as you typed a reply saying 'yes' to meeting him tonight. The bounce in your steps and the chime in your voice did not miss Seolhee's radar and she ambushed you at the breakfast table.

"You look like you had a good sleep. I thought you said you're done with Seungcheol?" Seolhee began.

"And those two correlate because?"

"Because Seungcheol is obviously the reason why you're smiling today."

"What makes you think so?" you retorted, trying to squirm out of her grasp. You wouldn't lie to her but you would never admit it either, especially after you gave them a whole spiel about you not settling for a guy who seemed uncertain about his intentions. 

"I just know."

"You're too confident," you jeered, poking a sausage with your fork and taking a bite out of it.

Seolhee chuckled. "Whatever you do, don't get hurt. I'll kill him myself."

You chortled. "That's weirdly reassuring. Thanks."

You couldn't wait for your evening class to be over and run to the CoffeeHouse. It was an embarrassing thing to admit because only a few days ago, you were upset and told your roommates you didn't want anything to do with Seungcheol anymore. And yet, here you are, back to acting like a giddy teenager.

Seungcheol: Are you still in class? The cafe is closed.

"Damn it?" you muttered upon reading Seungcheol's text. The class just finished and you were walking out of the classroom with other students. As you typed a reply, you noticed Jinwoo walking with you.

"Hi. A little update on our paper," he began, standing in front of you and walking backward so he was face-to-face with you while talking. "I've proofread the entire thing and fixed any error I could find. It's pretty much ready for submission."

You beamed at him. "Thank you, Jinwoo. Do you think it's okay to submit it earlier than the deadline?"

"Knowing Professor Choi? He'd be singing our praises all semester for our punctuality and whatnot."

You giggled, finding his sentiments accurate and funny at the same time. "I bet he will. I'll trust you with it alright?"

"You know you can," he chimed, the lilt in his voice was endearing. "Listen, there's a party at the Delphi this Saturday. Would you like to-"

"Seungcheol-nim!" you called out when you spotted Seungcheol by the gate. He found you among the crowd and waved at you with a smile. The pleasant sight of him smiling didn't last long though because seeing Jinwoo made him scowl.

"The cafe is closed?" you asked as soon as you were within his reach. "Why though? The cafe never closes."

Seungcheol sighed, eyes focused on Jinwoo who was still tailing behind you. "Yeah. Something about a sanitation check. I'm not sure. I just found out about it."

"Did you ask Mingyu?"

"I did. He said it was a sanitation check but he wasn't sure either." He exhaled before shifting his gaze on you. "Do you have other plans tonight?"

You gawked at him for a second and then realized Jinwoo was still there. Seungcheol must have thought you had plans with him.

"No, I don't," you replied then turned to Jinwoo. "Thanks again, Jinwoo. Let me know if Professor Mich says anything about the paper."

"Yeah. Okay," he blurted, backing away. "See you tomorrow."

You smiled at him and beckoned at Seungcheol who was still wearing a deadpan expression. When you've walked far away enough from the gate and Jinwoo had gone his own way too, you tugged on Seungcheol's coat.

"Everything okay? We could just go home, you know. Try again tomorrow?" you asked, thinking he was miffed about the cafe being closed.

"It's alright. There are plenty of other cafes around," he replied, forcing a smile. "Are you okay with walking around tonight? I would have brought a car had I known the Coffeehouse was closed."

You rolled your eyes. "Duh. Let's go."

And thus began a spontaneous night out. Seungcheol suggested you go for a walk to the next cafe but your conversations proved to be too much fun when you missed the cafe and even missed your apartment. It was funny to both of you and you would go on to continue walking until you reached a quiet neighborhood. You climbed the uphill stairs and watched the cityscape from there.

"Seungcheol-nim, what was your dream?"

"My dream?" he asked. surprised.

"Yes, as a child. Your current job, is it what you dreamed of?"

Seungcheol leaned on the railings and gazed at the city lights. "Not a lawyer, for sure. I kinda just had to do it because everyone in the family is doing it."

You rested your chin on the cold steel bar of the railings. "So what was it?"

"A teacher."

Your eyes widened. "A teacher?"

"Yes." He chuckled. Your eyes appreciated how the wind blew his hair out of his face. "A college professor, actually. My uncle was one and he was my role model. I was set on being a teacher before I entered college but as you can see, I'm not."

"How about now? I'm sure you still have time to change careers."

"Nah," he shrugged. "I'm content with where I'm at right now."

"But do you want it?" 

Seungcheol looked at you, pursing his lips as he nodded. "Of course. And if I don't change my mind about it in, say five or more years, I might consider shifting."

"It shouldn't be so hard, right? I mean, you're already a lawyer. You can teach criminal justice or something like that."

He smiled at you, impressed by your input. "Yeah. Something like that."

You wiggled your eyebrows. "I bet you'd be a really cool teacher."

Seungcheol frowned. "You said I'm boring and speak like an old man."

"The old man part was a joke and even if you're the boring kind of teacher, you'd still be cool because handsome teachers are cool."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You started laughing a little too loudly after he caught you off-guard. "Did I say that?"

"You didn't but you were implying it."

"You lawyers like to twist people's words, don't you?"

Seungcheol shrugged, chucking his hands in his coat pockets. "Only when it's advantageous. And there was no need to twist anything. The implication was clear."

"Okay, I'm gonna go," you chuckled, walking back down the stairs. Seungcheol followed behind you with a smile. "Oh, and we should drop by the coffee shop. I need caffeine because I've been home all day and there's no coffee at home."

"Isn't it too late for coffee? Don't you need to sleep?" he asked, casually catching your elbow when you lost your balance on the steps.

You felt the way his hand clenched on your arm, impressed by the strength of his hold. Then your mind embarrassingly flashed an image of his muscles underneath his coat. The amount of times you saw him in t-shirts sometimes had you gawking at his strong arms but only now did you start imagining how it would feel like to be locked in those muscles.

"Decaf?" he prompted, making your eyes flutter back to his face. You pulled your arm back and continued walking.

"Yeah. Decaf."

You shook your head a few times, trying to erase the image of yourself in his arms. It was embarrassing and you were worried that he could see through you. He can't obviously, but you still wish you were not giving off any signs. You refused when Seungcheol offered to walk you back to your apartment but he insisted on it, saying it would be dangerous for you to go alone. He must have thought it was weird for you to decline because you never did that before. If he did think that, you'll never know because he never said so.

"What's your dream?" he asked, breaking the silence between you while you walked down the quiet streets.

"Like a dream job?" you questioned, briefly glancing at him to see him nod. "I'm not sure. I actually don't have one. But I was thinking of establishing a tutoring clinic like my mom has."

"A cram school?"

"Yes. My only dream was to be content and happy with my life; to live in the city in a cozy apartment, tending to plants, and reading books. But of course, none of that is possible without an actual job and I thought my mom's job was cool, so I was considering doing what she does."

"You'd make a really cool teacher."

You snorted. "I'm not gonna be a teacher. More like an instructor."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"They are kind of the same thing," you laughed shyly. "But they're different too. I don't know. I haven't given it much thought. I think I'm just living for the now, going where the flow takes me and not taking control of my own life. It feels awful sometimes."

"How is that awful? Going with the flow is actually smart. Knowing what you want your life to be is good too, even if the path towards that hasn't been planned yet."

You shrugged. "I guess you're right. But I think I'm just lucky enough to not worry about my future as much as other people do. No one's pressuring me into anything, not my parents, not the society."

"Yes. You are lucky."

You pointed to the apartment complex in front of you. "I'm here. Thanks for walking me."

Seungcheol smiled at you, reaching to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Good night, y/n."

"Good night, Seungcheol-nim."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is there any way I can get you to drop that?"

"What? Seungcheol-nim?"

"Yes."

"What else would I call you?"

"You didn't seem to have any problems calling me oppa before?" he complained, looking away as he scratched his nape and muttered. "I liked that better."

"What was that?" you asked when you didn't catch his last sentence. He glanced back at you.

"I said you can call me Cheol."

"I can? But you're older than me."

"It's alright. You said how you address me is not a big deal."

You beamed happily. "Alright, Cheol."

“Alright, y/n.”

You beamed. “Alright.”

“Alright…”

Like Hazel Grace and Augustus, alright has become your always.

Imagine living in a big city, with lots of massive stores, and massive buildings, but you still bump into an ex from three years ago? Baffling. But then, here you are, awkwardly sifting through shelves for a bottle of mayo while your ex asks you how you’ve been.

“I’ve been well, Yeol. Thanks for asking. Now would you please go away? I’m busy.”

Yeol just chuckled, amused. “I see you haven’t changed one bit.”

“I have. I don’t care about anything you have to say anymore,” you retorted but it only made him laugh harder.

“Gosh, y/n. I really fumbled you, didn’t I? You’re so endearing. It’s a shame you had to find out about the other girls.”

In the past, you would have kicked his shins, but you don’t even want to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. You turned to face him, gave him a deadpan expression, and said, “Move. I need that one there.”

Yeol moved one step aside, letting you take a product from the shelf behind him. As you were examining it, he crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “By the way, I heard you’re seeing someone now. Is it true?”

You scowled, but you didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not true.”

“It isn’t? That’s good. Save yourself the trouble. Choi Seungcheol and Song Mina are trying to get back together.”

You froze in your tracks, your hand hovering by the shelf as you were about to put a product back in it. Yeol, oblivious to your shock, continued. “From what I heard, they’ll soon be engaged.”

“How did you know?” you asked him, forehead creasing with curiosity and annoyance.

“I know a friend of Song Mina’s. I got to hang out with her the last time she was in Seoul,” he replied but you shook your head at him.

“No. How did you know about me and Seungcheol?”

Yeol touched his chin to think. “I heard from a friend who told me he’d seen my ex-girlfriend with Lawyer Choi.”

“That’s all?”

“He said you two seemed close and asked if I knew you were seeing him. I told him I didn’t, of course. I had no idea what you’ve been up to since we broke up.” Yeol was still talking when you pushed your cart and walked away. He called out your name but you ignored him.

Seungcheol is trying to get back with Mina; why didn’t you think that’d be a possibility? He must still have feelings for her. And if they’re engaged, then it’s fine too. The news made you sad, but at least it was clear to you now that his intentions weren’t to date you or anything. He wanted you as a friend, that's it. Nothing more. At least you now know which place you’re allowed to stand on in his life. If you keep letting yourself mistake his actions for affection, it could end badly for you. 

Resolute, you decided to limit contact and meetups. It's inappropriate to keep seeing him regularly when he's trying to win his girl back. There will be no more late-night talks, no more meeting up for coffee, and no more hanging out until late with just the two of you. You’re drawing the line for Mina and him to get back together. And most importantly, for yourself to stop falling for him even more. 

Although you’d like to completely avoid him, you couldn’t. Seungcheol never said anything about liking you or trying to date you. So you can’t hold it against him if you develop feelings for him. That’s on you. Plus, you liked being friends with him and he seemed to like that too, so you’re cutting yourself some slack and allowing yourself to at least enjoy your friendship. You feel a little terrible, some itty bitty heartache but it’s fine. Everyone does.

“How are things with Mina?” you had asked him once when you ran into each other at the CoffeeHouse. He had been caught off-guard, but he just shrugged it off.

“We’re working on it,” was what he told you at the time.

“Good for you,” you had replied, although you didn’t mean it.

Over two weeks, you counted all the times he invited you out but you refused: four. You did fewer coffee runs and spent less time in the cafe. You focused on your other hobbies and hung out with your other friends. Whether or not he noticed the shift in you, you wouldn’t know because you never got the chance to talk about it.

“Ready?” Yoori asked, her head peering through the doorway of your bedroom. “Our ride is here.”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for my tumbler,” you replied, going through your bags.

“It’s in the car already,” she prompted, picking up your backpack on your bed. “Let’s go!”

You followed her through the apartment and outside where you saw Seolhee standing by a familiar car, and talking to an even more familiar guy.

“Ah, there they are!” Seolhee exclaimed, beaming at the two of you. “Shall we go now?”

Your eyes were locked on Seungcheol, confused and curious about him being here. He just gave you a smile and a small wave before taking your backpack that Yoori handed over to him. While your friends excitedly occupied the backseat of Seungcheol’s car, you waited for him to load your bag in the trunk and make his way to you.

“Good morning,” he greeted, looking cheerful and excited. “Are you ready to go?”

“What are you doing here?” you questioned sternly.

“What do you mean? Yoori invited me.”

You scowled. “Why would she do that? And why would you say ‘yes’?”

At this point, Seungcheol looked genuinely abashed by your confrontation. “Honestly, I have no idea why she did, but I said ‘yes’ because it sounded fun.”

You sighed, shoulders sagging as you contemplated whether going on this trip was a good idea anymore.

“Y/n, is everything okay? If it’s uncomfortable for you, I can cancel. I’m sure I can come up with a good excuse–”

“It’s fine, Cheol,” you said through gritted teeth. “Let’s just go.” You turned to open the car door but Seungcheol grabbed your arm before you could.

“Hey,” he called, his voice filled with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you exhaled.

“I meant between us. If you don’t want me here, I’ll just go.”

You took his hand off your arm and forced a smile. “Everything is fine, Cheol. Let’s go have fun.”

Yoori and Seolhee had no idea that you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol, and that was obviously why they thought inviting him to your weekend camp trip was a good idea. In the car, Yoori explained that they ran into Seungcheol at the grocery store and invited him to join you on this trip, even quipping that you all could use a free ride.

The ride to the campsite was noisy, with both Yoori and Seolhee singing to the top of their lungs. At one point during the two-hour travel, you forgot about your issues with Seungcheol and managed to have fun with everyone. Seungcheol was mostly taken aback by the energy from you and the girls, but he seemed to have had his fun too. By the time you arrived at the campsite, you were all full with the food you bought at the rest stops. None of you were tired though because you immediately got to work on building tents and setting up your area.

Seungcheol was tasked to set up the barbecue table after you girls realized how much easier it was with a man around to do the lifting and assembling. When you were done with your tent, you approached Seungcheol by the bonfire with a bottle of water. He looked like he had run a mile, with his sweaty forehead and messed up hair. He even took off his jacket, revealing his muscular physique in his tight dri-fit shirt. Had he always been this hot? You knew he was handsome but did he have to be hot too?

You cleared your throat to prompt him so he immediately noticed your presence. Looking away because you couldn’t help staring at his arms, you handed him the bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he chimed, taking the bottle and opening it.

“Tables gave you a hard time?” you questioned, eyeing the table that was standing on crooked legs.

Seungcheol gulped down half the bottle and let out a big ‘ahh’ after. “I’ll admit, I’m not so confident with this kind of task.”

You scoffed, rounding the table to the crooked leg. “I can see that.”

“But hey, I did well with the chairs,” he beamed, pointing at the chairs. “Don’t you think so?”

He was gleaming with pride and you couldn’t help smiling at him. He’s so endearing and he’s not even trying. “Yeah, good job, Cheol.” 

You showed him how to fix the table and you were amazed to find that he was eager to learn.

“Guys! You should get ready for the boat!” Yoori called after a few minutes. You waved your hand in response then turned to Seungcheol.

“I hope you brought a rashguard,” you told him.

Seungcheol tilted his head in ponder. “Well, Yoori said I should bring one so I did. But I still haven’t been told why.”

You scowled. “What do you mean? Did you come here without knowing what this trip is?”

Seungcheol shrugged and looked at the tents around. “It’s a camping trip.”

“My god, Mr. Choi Seungcheol,” you sniggered. “This is a wakepark.”

Of course, the campsite didn’t look like a wakepark. If it did, Seungcheol would have figured it out. But if one were to take a quick hike up the hill and descend on the other side, he willl find a massive lake there and a wakeboarding facility. Seungcheol was amazed when he saw it and uttered praises about the location and safety concerns.

“I don’t do much water sports,” he told you as you were queueing for the safety check.

“Have you tried wakeboarding before?” Seolhee asked.

Seungcheol had an exhilarated look on his face. “I haven’t. This will be my first time.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” Seolhee lilted. “I was scared to do it at first, but it was really fun.”

Yoori scoffed. “Which is why this has become our favorite weekend activity.”

Your friends were first to be briefed and while you waited below the platform, Seungcheol leaned to your ear to ask, “Is this what you do for fun?”

You looked up at him at shrugged. “Not all the time, but I do like wakeboarding.”

“Hmm. You didn’t strike me as the type to like extreme sports.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “First of all, this isn’t that extreme. Second, since when have you been making assumptions about me?”

“That will be from the moment I first met you,” he grinned.

“Is that so?” you teased. “How many times have I proven your assumptions wrong?”

“So far, you’ve only been proving me right,” he crooned, looking pleased. “Ah, right. Except today. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “Since you’re not so big on water sports, what do you do for fun?”

Seungcheol paused to think and then replied, “I go to shooting ranges with friends. Sometimes golfing. It depends on the company I have, really. I mostly just do what they want to do.”

“Like right now?”

He nodded. “Yes. Like right now.”

Seungcheol said this was his first time wakeboarding and it showed when he did it for the first time. But then several times later, he has shown proficiency on the sport. In no time, he’s wakeboarding on obstacles and doing it flawlessly. While you who’s not a first-timer would rather avoid obstacles.

“Whatever happened to the safety issues you were pointing out when we got here?” you taunted when he came back from his 17th time on the board. Was it 18th? Honestly, you’ve lost count already.

“Seolhee was right,” he reveled. “This is fun.”

“I know, Mr. Sportsman. But this is where the fun ends,” you announced, motioning to the sky and the setting sun on the horizon. “This place is closing.”

“So they said,” he replied, sighing. “We should come back here next time.”

Is he saying he wants to come back with you? He said ‘we’, didn’t he? 

You shook your head to get rid of your intrusive thoughts. “Yeah. For now, let’s change and go back. We’re having barbecue.”

Seungcheol was talkative on your trek back to the campsite. He’s going on and on about how thrilling wakeboarding was and how he’d love to do it again. He was even describing the experience and the tricks he did and almost did. Listening to him was heartwarming, like talking to a child adorably blabbering about something he likes.

“I take it you don’t get this much thrill in your life?” you guessed, giving him a probing gaze.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then, I guess you need to have more adventurous friends.”

“I guess but…” he trailed off. You waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn’t.

When you reach the campsite, your friends have got the fire going in the barbecue and they wave at you to join them. Seungcheol said he needs to put away his stuff first so you went ahead without him.

“He really kept going, huh?” Seolhee asked as you sat in front of the table. “Until closing time?”

“Yeah, he was like an energetic toddler,” you quipped, laughing fondly. “You should have seen how sad he was when it closed.”

“He’s so much older than us, but he’s so cute, isn’t he?” Yoori chimed before leaning close to you and nudging your elbow. “Also, you two look cute together.”

“Friends, Yoori,” you iterated. “We’re friends.”

“Whatever you say,” she teased so Seolhee scolded her. You stuck your tongue out at her, happy that Seolhee took your side.

“Hey,” Seungcheol prompted from behind you before sitting on the chair next to yours. “I just noticed we only have two tents.”

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulders to where the tents were set up and saw that you did have two tents only. “Oh. Oh no.”

You looked at your friends and Yoori just shrugged and told Seungcheol, “I must have forgotten to tell you to bring one.”

“Well, we’re not gonna share a tent,” you told them in a matter-of-factly tone. “I mean, duh?”

“Of course. But where would Seungcheol-nim sleep?” Seolhee asked.

You looked at Seungcheol who seemed as lost as you were. Surely you can’t share a tent with your housemates either. Yoori and Seolhee like to get intimate whenever you come to this place. You don’t know why this place specifically and you’re definitely not curious enough to find out. BUT maybe they’ll reconsider just this once?

“I can just sleep with you–”

“No!” Yoori and Seolhee interjected simultaneously.

Yoori giggled shyly. “You two can share.” You were about to protest but she spoke over you. “You’ll be in sleeping bags. Just scoot far from each other. Your tent is big anyway.”

You looked sideways at Seungcheol who shrugged and then said, “I can sleep in the car.”

You nodded. “Or we can rent a tent. They must have one in the reception.”

“Reception is closed,” Seolhee said, sheepish.

You could swear your friends are purposely trying to get you and Seungcheol to sleep in one tent. But when you checked the reception area, it really was closed. Seungcheol can’t sleep in his car. It’s uncomfortable and you’d feel bad if he did. Had you known he’d be joining you, you would have planned the trip properly. Although you knew you would probably refuse to go if you knew he’d be here too. 

Before you spend the entire night contemplating the matter, Yoori manages to convince you to share the tent. Between you and Seungcheol, you eventually end up agreeing that neither of you is uncomfortable and you are both willing to share the tent.

“The kimchi is amazing, Seolhee,” you told your friend.

“Thank you. We have plenty at the apartment,” she chimed.

You turned to Seungcheol. “Seolhee’s grandma owns a restaurant in their town. Her food is out of this world amazing.”

“Really? We should go there sometime.”

There he goes again with his ‘we’ declarations. It makes you hope that there really is something between you and he feels it too. But that’s just wishful thinking. He’s actively trying to get back with his ex, he shouldn’t be hanging out with you like this. And then again, maybe he’d rather hang out with you. Maybe he’s decided that he likes being here better than anywhere else. And maybe you’re overanalyzing things so much so that you’re starting to think delusional thoughts.

No. Delusions are things that aren’t real. His jacket that he wore on you because he was worried you’d be cold was real. His hand over the backrest of your chair was real. Your bodies leaning toward each other whenever you laugh was real. The jokes you had to whisper to each other because only the two of you would understand them were real. Seungcheol is very real. So maybe, just maybe, this was something worth overthinking about.

“Okay! The bottle has spoken and it picked you, y/n,” Yoori announced, pointing the tongs at you. “Truth or dare?”

The food has long been devoured and you’ve gone through bottles of alcohol already. Seolhee suggested you play a game of Truth or Dare, so here you are.

“Truth!” Seolhee shrieked, which was very unlike her but she was too inebriated to care.

“Do you…” Yoori began, standing up. “...like someone who’s here right now?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say Truth.”

“Dare it is then!” Yoori declared, clearing her throat. She wobbled a little but regained her balance after shaking her head. She looked at you and then at Seungcheol then back at you again. “I dare you to kiss the person you like here.”

“We agreed no kissing dares,” you told her calmly so she sat and pouted, sulking.

“You’re no fun.”

You laughed at her and glanced at Seungcheol who was laughing too, probably amused by your drunken girlfriends. He’s mostly quietly observing, laughing here and there, and responding only when he’s talked to. During the game, he would only pick Truths and answer questions close-ended. Still, he didn’t seem bored, if anything, he looked like he was having lots of fun.

“Ah, crap. We’re out,” Seolhee said after pouring beer into her glass only to find that it was empty. “Ah. Y/n, I dare you to go buy more beer.”

You scowled. “Seriously? Haven’t you had too much?”

“Not nearly enough, love,” Seolhee replied, shaking her head and then laughing. You looked at Seungcheol, wondering how he was reacting to this. He just shrugged.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go!” Yoori scolded, drunkenly shooing you away.

“Yeah! Go!” Seolhee giggled and the two of them chanted happily. “More beer! More beer! More beer!”

You rose to you feet to leave and Seungcheol grabbed your wrist. “Wait, are you going down all by yourself?”

“No, dumbass,” you scoffed, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. “You’re coming with me.”

The convenience store was a little far from the campsite, about a ten-minute walk down. You and Seungcheol were talking as you went, laughing in between jokes. The cold autumn air of late September was chilly, but you’re warmed by his jacket over you. Your cheeks are hot too and you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or the proximity between you and Seungcheol as you marched down the sidewalk. Your shadows were on the road, separate but they fuse with the slight tilt of your head in his direction. Even that was making you giddy. Damn. It really must have been the alcohol.

You were still looking at your shadows when he said, “Look at the sky!”

“Where?” you asked, looking up at the sky only to find nothing but darkness up there. “There’s nothing there.”

“I didn’t say there’s anything up there,” he giggled and it was such a cute sound to hear. Alcohol loosened him up a bit and it had him giggling and laughing at the littlest things.

You gave him a deadpan expression. “Wow. Funny.”

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again and looked at the sky. “Oh wow, I think it’s raining.”

As if on cue, the rain started pouring from the sky. You squealed when big raindrops fell on your head. Seungcheol took you by the wrist and you followed him running to a nearby waiting shed. Laughing, you both stumbled into the shed, patting down the rainwater on your clothes. 

“Gosh, we should’ve just taken the car,” you blurted, peeking at the sky from under the roof.

“We had beer,” he replied, reaching to the top of your head to pat your hair back. “I don’t drink and drive.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“I’m not irresponsible either,” he retorted, chortling at you. You were looking up at him, eyes gleaming.

“Wow, you’re very large.” Your comment came out of nowhere and even you was surprised you asked something like that.

Seungcheol flashed an affectionate scowl as he laughed. “Large?”

“Yeah, like you’re tall and your build is large,” you explained, shivering when the wind blew. “I knew you were bigger than me but I didn’t realize you were this big.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “Come here.” He tugged on your arm, pulling you in front of him so he could stand behind you. Then you felt his body pressing gently over you along with his pair of muscular arms wrapping around your waist.

Your heart skipped a beat before raging wildly in your chest. “Cheol?”

“Hmmh?” he inquired, placing his chin on the top of your head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying your best not to let your voice crack with nervousness.

“Helping with the cold,” he replied, taking a deep breath and then exhaling. “Damn, I think I had one too many beers.”

Seungcheol kept breathing in and out, steadying his breath as he fought against his tipsiness. You tilted your head back, urging him to get his chin off of your head. He did so and then leaned his forehead on your shoulder instead.

“You shouldn’t have drunk if you can’t hold your liquor,” you chided softly, almost in a whisper since his ear was close to your mouth.

“No, I can hold my liquor just fine. I just–” he paused to exhale and then continued– “I just need a second.”

The rain was loud against the roof and the wind was cold but your heart was warm; it was swelling with emotions, all leaning towards falling in love with Seungcheol. Surely you can’t do that, right? You’ve done well making sure you don’t fall for him even more, but now you’re back at one.

“Seungcheol?” you called softly, lifting your shoulder slightly to prompt him. “Hey.”

“Hmmh?” he responded, gently pushing you away when you moved to get him off your shoulder. “Sorry.”

You turned to face him, staring up at his sleepy expression. He beamed, eyes almost closed. It must have been the alcohol, or it could simply be the overwhelming emotions filling your heart to the brim. Maybe it’s his gentle smile and his eyes that are as beautiful as himself. Whatever it was, it made you take a step towards him, hold onto his arms, and then tip-toe so you could press your lips on his.

Seungcheol froze on the spot, eyes widening in surprise after your sudden action sobered him up. But it was only for a second. He kissed you back, holding your cheek so he could pull your face closer. Your grasp on his arms tightened as you tried to steady your body in your tiptoes. Seungcheol must have noticed you struggling to stand because he wrapped his other arm around your waist, keeping you in place.

A few seconds later, he exhaled sharply into the kiss and you could feel the temperature rising. It made you pull back, breaking the kiss. Seungcheol looked taken aback when you did.

You stuttered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.” 

“Are you okay?” he asked and you nodded in response. Seeing that, Seungcheol leaned to kiss you again. The warmth emanating from his body, plus the delirious feeling of his lips on yours made you close your eyes, immersing yourself in the kiss once more.

This time, you parted when you were both ready, forehead pressed together as you catch your breath. Seungcheol’s eyes were closed, and you were staring right at him as the situation slowly sunk in. You took a step back, forcing him to let go. 

“Choi Seungcheol,” you called out. Seungcheol looked at you, curiosity evident on his face. “You should probably stay away.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t stay so close if you don’t plan on staying at all.”

The face Seungcheol made upon hearing that shot an arrow straight into your heart. For a second there, you had expected him to finally put a label on your relationship. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice apologetic and regretful, sending another surge of pain in your chest.

You were worried that you might cry, luckily, you didn’t. As you waited for the rain to stop, you both stood at the opposite ends of the waiting shed, not saying anything. The pitter-pattering of the rain kept you sane. When it finally stopped, you walked back up the hill, Seungcheol following closely behind. At the campsite, you found that Yoori and Seolhee have deserted the bonfire so you headed to your tent. Realizing that you were supposed to share it with Seungcheol, you mentally cursed yourself.

“Fuck it.”

You hid in your sleeping bag, facing the tent so you didn’t have to see Seungcheol or interact with him at all. But hours passed by, and you lay there with your eyes wide open, unable to sleep because of the thoughts floating in your head. Seungcheol didn’t enter the tent and several times you wondered where he was. 

He’s probably in the car. He won’t possibly sleep outside, right? Right. And so you forced yourself to sleep, hoping the hours tick faster so you can go home and get over everything. When the first light peeked into the seams of the tent, you rose to your feet with a heavy body and an even heavier stride. The first thing you thought of was Seungcheol as if you hadn’t already been thinking about him all night. He was in his car, sleeping in the reclined driver’s seat. He must have been uncomfortable there.

Yoori and Seolhee are still asleep so you took it upon yourself to pack up your stuff. You packed the trash away and brought the dirty containers to the wash area so you could wash them. Halfway through, Seungcheol arrived.

“Do you need help with that?” he offered but instead of answering, you left the dishes half-done.

“Take care of it then,” you told him before walking away to take the trash to the recycling area. Yoori and Seolhee soon woke up and you all agreed to eat breakfast at the rest stop.

The silence between you and Seungcheol was the loudest in the car. You knew your friends noticed that, but they were nice enough not to pry. Instead, they minded their own business, flirting and being rowdy in the backseat among themselves. Several times they would prompt the two of you to let you in on what they were laughing about. Seungcheol would respond just to be polite, while you gave the most half-hearted reactions. When you arrived home, the girls thanked Sungcheol and hauled your stuff into the apartment.

As you were getting out of the car, Seungcheol tried talking to you. When you ignored him and went for the door, he grabbed your hand, squeezing it firmly.

“Please?”

You feel pathetic enough as it is, you don’t want to linger any longer. “There’s nothing to talk about, Cheol. It’s fine.”

“I just want to apologize, y/n. I overstepped.”

"It's okay. I should be the one apologizing. It was me who kissed you after all, so, I was the one who overstepped," you professed, not looking at him out of embarrassment. 

"Don't be. I didn't mind it."

"Thanks," you muttered, getting ready to get out of the car. "This was fun. Thanks for everything."

Seungcheol’s face darkened with concern. "You mean the camping trip, right?"

"No, I meant all of this. Everything that we did, everything we shared, it had been fun and I would probably miss all of it but it shouldn't be that hard to forget," you replied, holding his gaze for the first time since that kiss. Seungcheol's mouth opened and then closed again. You felt even sadder, knowing he didn't want you the same way you wanted him. "Goodbye, Cheol."

"Wait, y/n," he called, so you stopped opening the car door. "Can't we be friends? We were good friends, right? I really enjoyed hanging out with you."

"I liked hanging out with you too but things will never be the same between us, Cheol and you know it." Seungcheol released your hand and you felt your heart shatter into tiny little pieces. Seeing how he's just letting you leave, you figured this was all your fault for falling for him when all he wanted from you was friendship.

He didn't even say goodbye when you left and as soon as you were inside the house, you broke down crying. Luckily, Yoori and Seolhee were there to comfort you, staying right next to you as you cried your heart out. It was ridiculous and you're telling yourself that you shouldn't even be sad about it. How can your heart break over something that was never about romance in the first place? To him, it may have not been about romance, but to you it was. He shouldn't have reeled you in like he did. You should have just ordered a takeout when you couldn't find a seat in that cafe. You shouldn't have joined him or eaten the donut. You shouldn't have met him at all.

"Imagine breaking up with someone you never dated? Couldn't be me," Seolhee jeered, getting a glare from Yoori.

"Hey, she's heartbroken enough as it is. Don't rub salt in the wound."

Seolhee just scoffed. "What did I tell her? I told her to make sure they were on the same page before she fell for his charm and all! Look at the mess he left her in!"

Yoori sighed, still holding you in her embrace. "To be fair, he did tell her he hasn't moved on from his ex and they're trying to fix it. So romance was obviously out of the table for him right now."

“Then why did he keep hanging out with her? He may have been clear about where his heart was but you and I, including him, know their coffee runs and all that meeting up are intimate enough to be called dates!"

"Seolhee, sweetheart, you can't hold him hostage for something he can't control. Yes, he's accountable for y/n's heartbreak. Yes, he got her hooked with his charming personality. And yes he was a jerk for still hanging out with another girl when he was trying to get back with his ex. But nowhere in the equation did he explicitly mention the possibility of dating y/n. He was nice and apparently, he liked talking to y/n. Our girl fell in love, he had no control over that."

"We kissed," you croaked, sniffling into the blanket.

"You what?" Seolhee asked, confused.

"Well, I kissed him, actually."

"And he kissed you back?" Seolhee interrogated so you nodded.

Yoori let go of you and stood with her arms over her chest. "I beg your fucking pardon?"

"Babe," Seolhee blurted, holding Yoori by the arm. "Calm down."

"I’m calm. But he… He's dead," Yoori attempted to go to the door but Seolhee managed to stop her.

Seungcheol sat on the table opposite Mina, absent-mindedly slicing his steak. His mind was elsewhere entirely, while Mina was rambling about her trip abroad. His lack of attention was unusual, even for himself, especially since he had been looking forward to this dinner ever since Mina's last concert. But why is he thinking about an entirely different girl from Mina, in an entirely different setting from this fancy hotel restaurant?

"Oppa," Mina prompted, taking notice of the steak that has now been reduced to tiny, uneven little pieces. Even the vegetables have been sliced the same way. "Are you alright? You seem spaced out."

Seungcheol heaved a deep sigh upon seeing the state of his food. "Yes, I'm fine. Just not hungry."

Mina pouted cutely. "You should have ordered a salad or something."

"You're right, I should have," Seungcheol grinned.

"You weren't listening to the waiter so I ordered your usual." Mina looked worried. "Are you sure you're okay? We could meet up some other time, you know."

"I am, Mina. I'm sorry if I'm not fun to be with right now."

Mina just nodded and continued eating. "So, as I was saying," she began, falling back into a long monologue about her latest trip abroad.

Seungcheol watched her speak, recognizing the delight in her voice and the way her cheeks lifted whenever she smiled, as well as the slight annoyance on her face when her story included something bad that happened there. He watched the woman he knew so well, trying to find the reason he was sitting here in the first place. Seungcheol knew it was love. He had loved Mina for so long and so much that he couldn't even look at other girls. Even when she broke up with him, he couldn't bring himself to move on and find someone else, someone better, someone who wouldn't do to him what Mina did. He waited for her to come back because she was all he wanted, the one he loved most. It was pathetic, but he didn't care. He told himself he could wait until she was ready, and he did just that, not listening to any of his friends or his self-respect. He loved Mira, and only Mira.

But why does he keep picturing you in your usual spot at The Coffeehouse, reading your books on a small tablet? Why does he keep imagining you rolling your eyes at his lame jokes and making him laugh with your witty remarks? Why does he still clearly remember how it felt kissing you in that waiting shed, with the sound of the rain draining the noises of his pounding heartbeat?

"Oppa," Mina prompted again, this time she looked annoyed.

"Yeah?"

"Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, no. I'm sorry. What was that?"

Mina huffed. "Nevermind. I'll tell you when your mind stops flying out to space."

Seungcheol was holding Mina's hand as they walked out of the restaurant, with her giggling about the good food and him nodding along. That's how it should be, the two of them hand-in-hand and together. That should make him happy because that was what he wanted. Still, he was struggling to find contentment. When he got home that night, he had to grab a can of beer in an attempt to help him fall asleep. His mind is still filled with thoughts of you, especially the part when you last saw each other.

He loves Mina, he knows that. But he felt like crap for hurting you. Seungcheol knows he's a jerk, alright. You were right, he shouldn't have stayed that long if he wasn't planning on staying at all. But he saw you as a friend, a good friend he can talk to comfortably without the pressure of being perfect. You made him laugh easily, made him drop his guard down without warning, and crept into his heart like it was only natural to do so. He knew this could happen at one point but after you found out he'd been trying to get back with Mina, you drew the line and told him you could be good friends without any expectations. He had been blind to see that you've already gone past being friends. Now he's losing his mind over you, replaying the kiss in his head and reliving the day he let go of your hand to never see you again. He's thinking about you but he can't erase Mina for someone he recently just met, regardless of how wonderful it was.

"Ah, fuck," he muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate his headache.

Seungcheol kept seeing Mina after that, and he was under the impression that they were back together already. She hung out with his mother a lot and discussions about marriage were being brought up but he was unenthusiastic about it all. He was too busy trying to get you out of his head, which he kept failing miserably because the effort only made him think about you more.

"What are you thinking about?" Mina asked, tracing lines on his chest.

"A lot of things."

"Can you stop thinking about them for now?"

"I don't know. I'm trying."

Mina propped herself up on her arms, smiling as she straddled Seungcheol again. "I could help," she grinned, grinding on his crotch.

"Mina, we literally just finished—" Seungcheol was cut off when Mina leaned to kiss his lips.

Right. This is what he wanted, to have Mina back in his arms again. This should feel right. Seungcheol decided to ignore the alarms ringing in his head as well as the weird feeling in his gut that he shouldn't be here at all.

"Mr. Landlord!" Mingyu greeted when Seungcheol walked into the cafe. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I got busy," Seungcheol replied, smiling at the younger man behind the counter. "Everything good here?"

"Perfect," Mingyu smiled, turning to make Seungcheol's usual drink order. "Are you looking for y/n?"

Seungcheol realized he had been looking around the cafe and cleared his throat to shake off the shame of getting caught. "Has she been here at all?"

"Oh, she's here all the time."

"All the time?"

"Yes. She's here almost every day. I talked to her once and she said she's working on the final editing for her thesis."

Seungcheol nodded. "I suppose she is."

Mingyu glanced at the door when it opened. "There they are."

Seungcheol head has never spun that quickly; it hurt his neck a little. And seeing you walking inside the cafe with Jinwoo from one of your classes made him scowl.

"Oh," you blurted, stopping in your tracks as soon as you saw Seungcheol by the counter.

Seungcheol gave you a timid smile before Mingyu tapped on his shoulder to give him his order. "Right. Thanks."

He turned to you, smiling and then sighing. "Good to see you."

You just responded with a slight bow of your head and Seungcheol went on to find a vacant seat. He sank into the chair, taking his book out and covering his face as he scolded himself for the stupid line. You were standing right there, he could have asked to talk to you properly.

"'Good to see you'? Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head and putting his book back down. He would soon regret it because he could see you and the guy you were with laughing together from the window table, far from where he was. He couldn't help admiring your smile, realizing just how much he missed it. But his face darkened at the sight of the guy's arm resting on the back of your chair.

"Don't punch someone, Mr. Landlord."

Seungcheol jolted when he heard Mingyu's voice in his ear. The latter just laughed heartily, placing a plate with a donut in it right in front of Seungcheol.

"It's on the house. The owner saw you come in. She's probably hoping for a discount on the rent."

"Tell her thanks and that it's not gonna happen," Seungcheol jeered and Mingyu raised a hand on his forehead as a salute.

"Will do," he chimed, tucking the tray under his arm. "Oh, by the way, I think that guy likes y/n."

"How do you know that?"

Mingyu scoffed. "Everyone likes y/n. She's popular at school. They even have a title for her."

"What's the title?"

"Million Dollar Smile. She's the university sweetheart. I have friends from the school who are head over heels for her."

Seungcheol smiled absent-mindedly, repeating your title in his head. It suits you because you have a radiant smile that he now can't get out of his mind.

"The other day, he gave her flowers," Mingyu said, souring Seungcheol's mood. He saw the frown on Seungcheol's face and thought he didn't believe him. "It's true. I was here when he did it. I don't think y/n likes him though. She left the flowers on the table."

"Then why are they still together?"

Mingyu shrugged. "No clue."

Seungcheol sighed and hit Mingyu's abdomen. "Are you here to gossip? Don't you have work to do?"

"I just thought you'd like to hear updates about her," he complained, massaging the part where Seungcheol hit him. "Why are you so mad?"

Mingyu marched back to his post and Seungcheol went back to his book, trying to ignore your presence and failing because he ended up just stealing more glances. You didn't linger for long though, leaving the cafe with your friend after you were done with your coffee. Seungcheol could only get peace of mind then. Or so he thought. You came back alone and sat on the chair opposite of his.

"What's your deal?" you asked, looking annoyed.

"What do you mean?" Seungcheol asked back, trying to appear calm despite being surprised by your sudden appearance.

"You wanna talk to me, say it. Stop acting like a stalker."

"A stalker? I wasn't acting like a stalker," he denied, chuckling. "You were sitting within my line of sight. I can't be blamed for that. And I was here first. You have no case."

"Are being a lawyer on me right now?"

"No,” he replied briskly. “Yes, maybe."

You huffed, leaning on the backrest of the chair and crossing your arms over your chest. "Is everything alright with you?"

"Yes. Everything's fine," Seungcheol replied, smiling at your warmer attitude.

"You look…” you paused, shrugged, and added, “I don't know, different?"

"Different how?"

You shrugged. "You look like you haven't slept properly. You got thinner too and a little paler than usual. Were you sick?"

"Did it always feel this good to be cared about?" Seungcheol blurted out before he could think twice about it. He saw your brows twitching and felt nervous about what you were going to say next but you just looked away. "Don't mind me. What about you? How are you these days?"

You huffed. "If you're so curious then you should have texted me."

"You told me to leave you alone."

You glared at him. "No, I didn't."

"Pretty sure you did," Seungcheol smiled. "You just used different terms."

"And you were dissecting my words."

"Nothing much to dissect when it was staring me right in the face."

You huffed impatiently, standing up from your seat. "I didn't come here to get smart with you, so goodbye."

Seungcheol grabbed your hand. "Coffee? Won't you at least have a cup?"

"I just had one."

"Yeah, I saw that. Were you working on a project again with that guy? Jinwoo, was it?"

"Why do you care? I never asked you if you're back together with Mina."

Seungcheol's hand on your wrist twitched. You were right to ask that. Why does he even care? He has Mina. He shouldn't be acting like this anymore.

"Don't stop coming here just because I come here, Cheol. This was your favorite spot. I'm graduating anyway so I'm pretty sure I’ll stop being around much."

"No. I—" Seungcheol sighed, letting go of your hand. "Okay. It was nice seeing you again."

You gave him a small smile before walking away. Seungcheol sat there for the next hour, staring into nothing with muddled thoughts and a weird aching in his heart. He kept telling himself that he shouldn't have let your hand go for the third time around. But how stupid was he to think that?

It was only when his phone rang that he stood up and left. Mina called and asked to meet him. He drove down to a restaurant, wondering why Mina was inviting him out to another dinner. It was with their common friends this time and she was gushing about some really good news.

When he got there, Seungcheol was confused to see his girlfriend sitting next to a guy, smiling happily with her hands wrapped around his arms. She spotted Seungcheol and waved happily.

"Oppa! You made it!"

You recognized the guy as the pianist who always accompanied Mina on stage. He was smiling at him too with the same glow of happiness as Mina.

"Come join us! Everyone's here," Mina said, running up to Seungcheol to guide him to a vacant seat. But he didn't budge. "What's wrong?"

"What's this, Mina?" Sungcheol asked, sighing in frustration. 

"My friends. They wanted to meet you."

Seungcheol sighed again, grabbing her by the wrist and walking out of the private restaurant. He stopped in a quiet hallway, looking at Mina with conviction.

"Are we doing this again, Mina?" 

"What is?"

"Who was that guy?" he spat and Mina laughed incredulously.

"That's Hyungjae. My pianist."

"Your pianist?"

Mina shrugged. "We're kind of seeing each other but it's not serious."

"Mina you were with me just a few days ago. You were in my bed!"

"I know! And I loved that," she smiled, placing her hands on Seungcheol's chest. "I love you. You don't have to worry about Hyungjae. He's just temporary."

"Are you seriously doing this again? Am I supposed to turn a blind eye while you go sleep around with just anyone? And you asked me to come here so you could introduce me to your friends? What do you take me for, Mina?"  Seungcheol grunted, swatting her hands away. "Do you see how messed up this is?"

"Oppa!"

"Let's stop this."

Mina’s face contorted with annoyance. "What do you mean? You can't say that!"

"Why not?”

She shook her head. “You can’t break up with me! Who do you think you are?”

Just like that, he’s had enough. Seungcheol walked away, completely ignoring Mina's nonstop calling. He found his car and drove a long way without an actual destination. But when he saw the Coffeehouse, he stopped right in front of it, sighing as he watched it from the side of the road. He wasn't expecting to see you there at all, smiling while talking to someone on the phone. He couldn't hear you but he was smiling along, content with the sight of your bright face.

Seungcheol was a fool. All this time, he had been blindly going in the wrong direction. He didn't want Mina because he still loved her, he wanted Mina because she was familiar. He had been chasing the empty shell of the love he used to have. He had been focusing too much on what he lost that he failed to acknowledge what he found. You. He found something really beautiful in you. He was realizing just now that he was in love with you after all. You were so graceful and pretty, like a breath of fresh air. He was enamored by you, not because you were alluring or sexy, but because you were smart and spoke kindly even when you were speaking carelessly. You were beautiful to look at, and even more breathtaking to listen to. Seungcheol was an idiot. He knows that now. He knows he would be an even bigger idiot if he let go of something as beautiful as this. But after hurting you, even though he never meant to, Seungcheol knew he couldn't just walk back into your life like he was welcome to do so anytime.

Your phone call ended and you chucked your device back in your bag. As you were turning to leave, Seungcheol panicked. Getting out of his car, he called out your name as loud as he could. 

“What the–” you blurted, surprised to hear someone shouting your name. When you spotted Seungcheol walking towards you, you scowled. “Choi Seungcheol?”

“Hi,” he sputtered. He held your hand as soon as you were within his reach. “Can we talk?”

“Now? I’m kind of in the middle of something–”

“It won’t take long, I swear. I just need to tell you something.”

You glanced inside the cafe and then at Seungcheol. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” he confessed, almost out of breath. “I’m so sorry. Can we do this again? Let’s try again, can we?”

“Cheol, what do you mean? Where’s Mina? What happened?”

“She’s gone, y/n. It didn’t work.”

You retracted your hand from his hold, glaring at him as you stepped back. “Are you serious? Did you come here because it didn’t work out with Mina?”

“What? No!” he denied strongly, reaching for your hand again but you backed away.

“I don’t think we should be talking right now, Cheol,” you told him, genuinely concerned. “You don’t seem to be in the right headspace. You’re not even acting like yourself.”

You were right. He was rash and impulsive. This was unlike him at all. “I’m sorry.”

You were about to speak when a group of people walked out of the cafe laughing and chattering. Seungcheol recognized his uncle among the students.

“There you are, y/n. We’ve been waiting for you inside. What took you so long?” the Professor asked. Then he noticed Seungcheol there so his face glowed. “Seungcheol! I didn’t expect to run into you here!”

“Uncle,” he said meekly, eyeing you curiously. “I was just passing by.”

The elder man laughingly walked up to Seungcheol, giving him a pat on the shoulder before proudly saying, “This is Attorney Choi Seungcheol. He’s an alumna of our university. My dear nephew.���

A chorus of ‘Nice to meet you’s was heard from the group, to which Seungcheol replied with, “Good to meet you too.”

“How do you know y/n?” the professor asked Seungcheol who seemed to hesitate.

“He’s an acquaintance, Prof,” you replied curtly.

The elder nodded. “Very well then. You should join us for dinner. My students just passed an important exam so I’m treating them to dinner.”

You panicked. “I think Mr. Choi is busy–”

“I’d love to, uncle!” he chimed, grinning. “I brought my car. The rest of them can carpool with me.”

“Good. Good. Let’s go.”

The group proceeded with excited chatter while you lagged behind. Seungcheol hesitated to speak to you and as he was about to try, you shook your head to dissuade him.

At this point, Seungcheol is improvising–something he’s never done in his life before. He’s hoping that it’s worth it.

[To be continued in Part 2]

#svt au #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt scoups #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #svt fanfic #calcali #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #scoups #svt #scoups fic #svt fic #seventeen fanfic

[callsign-rogueone]

study season

fourth wing characters (Aaric, Bodhi, Brennan, Dain, Garrick, Imogen, Liam, Mira, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Sloane, Violet, and Xaden) x reader the ways our faves help you study for exams. words: ~900 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. gender neutral. and I included the girls this time!! some of these can be read as platonic and others mention kisses / cuddles, implying you’re a couple. idk, I just work here. I’m really liking this format lately, and it’s (fairly) quick and easy so you can expect more of these in the future while I procrastinate all the girlfriendverse chapters and smut I have to write lol

First, the more studious of the bunch:

Brennan is all-in, no hesitation, pulling up a chair next to you and learning this with you for moral support, but also for fun (can you believe this guy?) though you suppose it’s easier to enjoy this if it doesn’t count for a grade. Either way, he’s a very nice study partner, and he encourages you to take breaks every hour / chapter / etc. Brings snacks, too.

Violet somehow already knows all of the material, and explains it better than the textbook or the professor. Walks things back if you don’t get it and gets into the why and how, which so many teachers skip over, even though it helps explain the what (pet peeve of mine showing here lol). 

Aaric’s study skills are unmatched -- years of the best private tutors money can buy really paid off. Teaches you new strategies that you’ve never heard of in your life, and when you ask, he admits a bit shyly that he came up with it himself, but it works, and you get it done in half the time you would have before. (work smarter, not harder, baby)

Rhiannon gives you the pep talk of your life (we all need a Rhiannon in our lives) and convinces you that you’ve got this. Packs you a little snack for the day of your exam with a little note reminding you that you know this, just breathe and think. 

Xaden sees you struggling and forces you to take a break. During said break, he’s reading the book himself and figuring out what exactly has you so stressed and exhausted. Breaks down the tasks into smaller, more manageable steps and guides you through it -- “find three reasons why XYZ happened.” done with that? “Now make them into paragraphs.” etc etc, and an hour later, you have a passable essay. 

Dain is taking this more seriously than you are, and his discipline is like no other; you’re not stopping until the work is done, or until midnight, whichever comes first (because sleep is important for the brain, or whatever. Definitely not just because he misses you and wants to cuddle). 

Garrick may have no idea what you’re talking about, but he suffers through it with you, offering to let you explain things to him, because teaching is a good way to test if you understand something. Though you get what you pay for -- he’s a total smartass about it, asking questions about the littlest details even if they’re common knowledge -- he’s gotta be thorough, right? 

Ridoc may be the class clown type, but he’s smarter than a lot of people think. He comes up with a bunch of jokes that actually help you remember things. Somehow manages to relate the most complex topic in your book to a sandwich, and it actually works. He’s incredibly smug about this for the rest of the week, especially when you get the highest score in the class (he’ll take payment in kisses, thank you.)

Bodhi makes flashcards with you, quizzing you and giving you a kiss if you get it right (this definitely is not a distraction, and things definitely don’t escalate from here, nope.) He’s also really good at proofreading essays, and gives excellent feedback regarding the structure and the order of the information.

Liam sits there with you all the while, completely silent, working on one of his wood carvings at the other end of the table, but you know he’s there and he’s watching -- and that provides a healthy amount of peer pressure and keeps you on task. He’s an incredibly observant person, and he can see the stress building; he knows when to intervene and suggest that you take a break.

Sloane is the best person to commiserate with. She doesn’t want to be doing this either, but she’s also incredibly stubborn, and she doesn’t give up; after a healthy amount of complaining, she’s forcing you both to keep trying until it works / until it’s done, and then you’re treating yourselves to something for getting it over with, because you deserve it.

Sawyer is gentle and supportive, having a heart-to-heart conversation with you and reminding you that yes, this is important, but the world will not stop turning if you fail one exam. He knows how it feels to be compared to his peers, especially in how long it takes you to accomplish something (poor bb) and doesn’t want you stressing yourself out about that, either. 

Imogen is the opposite, all tough love, giving you gentle but firm reminders: “you didn’t make it this far just to give up,”, “I know you can do this, so do it,” but she balances it out with tender affirmation when you’re done. She’ll even let you skip out on training for the day since you’ve been studying so hard (and she takes training seriously, so this is more of a reward than it seems). 

Mira’s default approach is similar to Imogen’s, but she can see that you’re reaching your limit and dials it back, being more gentle with you and doing whatever you need -- encouragement? someone to just sit there? help / explanation / etc? she’s got you covered. herds you into bed at a reasonable hour so you’ll be well rested for the classes and exams.

And all of them are incredibly proud of you for working so hard and getting good grades 🤍

#fourth wing x reader #brennan sorrengail x reader #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader #liam mairi x reader #dain aetos x reader #ridoc gamlyn x reader #sawyer henrick x reader #xaden riorson x reader #imogen cardulo x reader #aaric graycastle x reader #violet sorrengail x reader #rhiannon matthias x reader #sloane mairi x reader #sawyer henrick #bodhi durran #liam mairi #dain aetos #aaric graycastle #ridoc gamlyn #xaden riorson #brennan sorrengail #garrick tavis #sloane mairi #rhiannon matthias #violet sorrengail #mira sorrengail #imogen cardulo #fourth wing #mine

[tiyoin]

hi hi! i'm a very anxious person but when my friends need me? oh you best believe i will order for you and complain when you asked for no pickles.

do you think twisted anxiety reader would be the same? they struggle now to be of help to yuu and grim, but picture early book 6? grim attacked yuu and is gone for the week. yuu is strong yes, and it was only a scratch, but it must have taken a toll on them to be attacked by their best catfriend and then not being able to see them. they still go to class but they go home as soon as the bell rings and talks only when necessary. there's a vacant look in their eyes.

yuu is popular and is bound to have people going to them at all times, public they can't evade forever. while exiting the classroom, a random npc goes to chat with them and while yuu would humor them any other time, now they can barely pay attention to the corridor and reader. the npc is persistent on chatting even though yuu's body language tells them to fuck off. yuu does not utter a single word, and keeps walking with reader trailing behind them. would reader intervene for yuu?

(english is not my first language so sorry if it's hard to read :c )

HELLO MY LOVE 🫶

EVERY TIME SOME SAYS ENGLISH ISN'T THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE THEY ALWAYS CREATE BANGERS- AND I KNOW BANGERS MAN. AND THIS IS ONE OF THEM

but no you're so right. maybe the over blot's are starting to catch up with yuu. especially after grim accidentally hurting them and the whole styx drama. in the game we can't see if yuu is affected by any of the overblots. we don't see them get properly.. compensated. although vil and leona's are different since they helped out with ramshackle.

but 🌀 yuu is NOT having a great time. and only reader is there to witness it, to help them through it. like jekyll and hyde, yuu is all smiles and sunshine during the day when out and about. but as soon as they get home... once they step into ramshackle.. it's a different story.

they're feeling the angst, they're telling reader how sometimes they can't even look the over blotter's in the eyes sometimes. especially azul and leona because all yuu can see is their more animalistic eyes that serve as a reminder to what they really are.

how they sometimes flinch from their enemies, now friends. how they always keep their guard up around the beast folk who were involved with the overblots.

yuu is... angry. how dare these teenage boy's do this to them, how dare they pretend like nothing happened. but what makes this all worse is that they understand that pretending like nothing happened brings back a sense of control, of normalcy for the victims.

yes the whispers in the hall seem to dim, but never silence. but with the encouragement of Crowley they become more controlled, no longer hallway chatter as people are making light of the situation.

"say that one more time and I'll over blot" "uh oh! looks like Reese has some blot on his shirt!"

and it's always 'poor house wardens this, poor house wardens that-'

WHAT ABOUT YUU??? they're always- always at the brunt of the over blot's and they don't even have magic!!

some days, when yuu doesn't have enough energy to spare their other friends, they silently haunt reader. staying by their side like an otter, only breaking apart for the few classes they have apart. and as soon as the bell rings and reader is done gathering their belongs and making a beeline for the door- yuu is already there, waiting outside the door. a brief moment of eye contact before they fall in line with each other.

if grim is there and trying to bug yuu, reader is there to play buffer. trying to distract the cat-monster as yuu gives them a grateful glance. but if he isn't, then it's silence between you two.

I think the reader doesn't like silence because if they aren't talking to someone then their thoughts catch up to them. but if it's for yuu? what's a little suffering if it's for a friend right?

if some of the first years pop up and try to drag yuu away, yuu will usually be able to fight their own battles, giving them a charming smile and saying that they'll join them some other time. sometimes it works, other times it doesn't. and when it doesn't reader has to take a deep breathe, and force themselves out of their two-person bubble.

they'll either irish goodbye the the lot, playing the bad guy as they're seen stealing yuu away. or say some kind of comment to one of the more prideful members to get them to start a inter-group conflict while reader and yuu slip away. or just lie, lying's good too.

but 🌀 reader would do anything, for their friend's.

one time, I was at the gym with my sister and this guy came and asked if we were using the machine and turned that into trying to hit on my sister- LITERALLY ENCAGING HER AGAINST THE WALL AND 2 MACHINES. and I humored it for the rest of my set because I know she can take care of herself, but when nothing was working I pulled my phone out uttering some bullshit that we needed to leave now. ofc she didn't even realize I was lying until I told her. but you'd be surprised how many guys can't. get. a. hint.

so reader saving the day from yuu getting hit on by an npc, or one whose yapping so much they don't even realize yuu is inching away is a common occurrence. with a quick '1,2,3 fuck it,' reader is rolling up their sleeves, marching over while creating a fake text from the ghosts and- "yuu we gotta go! grim has destroyed the curtains again!" and with a tug of their arm reader is dragging yuu away.

and- god forbid the npc follows, saying that they weren't done... is when reader becomes 'uncharacteristically' snippy. "unless you want to help clean cat vomit from the curtains, you're welcome to join us" you see a dust cloud in his place from how fast he ran.

yuu lets out a chuckle, looping their arm around yours as they lean their head on your shoulder. a small 'thanks' as they make their way back to good ol' ramshackle.

(there have been a few cases where the npc does offer to help. but yuu pulls out a smile and says 'next time')

#I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE CAN'T TAKE A HINT #chuu <3 #twisted anxiety 🌀 #tiyoin’s cuties 。 ඞ 。 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader

[floralcyanide]

ɪғ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ — ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴊᴏʜɴ “ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ” ᴇɢᴀɴ

john “bucky” egan x fem!reader

Lunch with Dr. Egan leads to him showing you old photographs at his home, which opens a door to a new side of your advisor and your relationship with him.

(Headcanons: One | Two)

warnings: age gap (reader is 23-25, Bucky is in his 40s), descriptions of war, the insinuation of ptsd, smoking, drinking, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

author’s note: here is the first part (maybe) to my Professor Bucky au!! if ya'll want more just let me know, I'm indecisive about it tbh. I probably won't write smut for this series though. feedback is appreciated!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | (If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Wanna Be Right - Barbara Mandrell

(when it’s from Bucky’s point of view, I will use Bucky rather than Dr. Egan.)

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re giddy, like it’s the first day of class all over again, except it’s a different type of nervousness. It’s not like you’re going on a date or anything, but you’re seeing your advisor outside of campus. It’s a little nerve-wracking. Especially because he’s so interesting and attractive and… are you crushing on Dr. Egan? Absolutely, positively not! He’s your superior and advisor, and you will never cross that line. Even if you find him fascinating in numerous ways. 

The small restaurant that Dr. Egan suggested is bustling with people when you arrive. You sit patiently in the booth as you wait for your superior to show. When he finally approaches, he apologizes profusely for being late.

“It’s okay, Dr. Egan. You’re a busy man.”

This launches the two of you into a conversation about your extracurricular activities and life outside of work and school. Dr. Egan wants to know more about your work at the museum. You tell him all about how it started and where you see it going. He listens intently the entire time, asking questions throughout the conversation. You eventually order your meals and continue discussing the museum until the topic strays.

“I have a lot of photos of us from where we were stationed,” Dr. Egan mentions around a sip of water, “I think I have some of your father, actually.”

You sit up at that, “Really?”

“Quite a few of me too. Would you want to see them?” Dr. Egan chuckles at your sudden interest.

“Of course I would,” you say with a grin, “When and where?”

“If you’re okay with it, I don’t live too far from here. I have a lot of stuff you can look at if you’d like.”

After lunch concludes, you and Dr. Egan head over to his quaint home near downtown- a mere walk from the restaurant. The living room has a large array of books and records on a bookcase the size of a wall, some paperwork is strewn on the couch and on the dining room table. Dr. Egan profusely apologizes for the mess.

“I can’t imagine how many assignments you have to grade,” you say, taking in the various novels and history books on the bookcase, “I don’t mind the mess.”

“All the stuff is in the extra room,” Dr. Egan says, motioning to the hallway with a smile.

He appreciates your love for literature and history and your patience with his lived-in home. Bucky would never ask if you had a partner as it isn’t professional or his business, but he’d be surprised if you’re single. If he were your age all over again- he would stop his train of thought there before it travels any further. You giddily follow him into his guest room, where there are shelves full of things, including photographs. 

“Here’s one of just your father,” Dr. Egan says, holding the photo over his shoulder to you as he scuffles through other pictures.

You carefully take the photograph, look over it, and take in your father in his youth. He’s never shown you many photos of him from the war; usually, they’re of him with other soldiers or aren’t of the best quality. But this photo is up close, and your father is alone.

“You can have it if you want,” Dr. Egan says as you stand next to him, still eyeing the picture.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I’m certain. I collected most of the photos and stuff the others didn’t want. If I can pass them down, I will.”

You smile at Dr. Egan, who returns it as he looks back down at the table, “This one is me.”

You grab a hold of the left side of the photograph, and Dr. Egan lets you take it from his grasp to look closer, “This Is you?”

“Sure is,” he says.

Dr. Egan was beyond handsome- still is, of course. His curls were darker, and his skin less freckled. He had a little more light in his eyes. You happen to glance up and see a photo of him where he appears much different. Dr. Egan has quite a bit of facial hair and looks shell-shocked. He quickly moved the photo, which looked like a POW card, under some others. You glance over at him, and he gives you an uneasy look before turning his attention to a photo of another young man.

“This is my good friend, Gale,” Dr. Egan clears his throat, “he was with your father and me a lot through training and overseas.”

Sensing a change in the older man’s demeanor, you change the subject, “We don’t have to go through your things if it brings back sore memories.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’d rather tell the stories over and over than forget.”

You hesitantly reach for the area where he shoved the POW card out of sight, sliding it out from under some other pictures.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know more about this,” you hold up the photo, giving Dr. Egan an earnest look.

“You’ll have to get a few drinks in me first,” he half-jokes.

You raise an eyebrow with a smirk, “That’s all it takes, Dr. Egan?”

The layered comment doesn’t go past him as he takes a step closer to you, your chests almost touching, “Just know my life can get a little dark.”

You stare up at him, your gaze careful, “I can handle it.”

The tension is palpable but Dr. Egan breaks it by taking a step back,  “I hope you like whiskey ‘cause it’s all I’ve got.”

You follow him to the living room, where he pours two glasses of whiskey, handing one to you as you take a seat on the couch. Dr. Egan sits on the side of the couch that’s by the record player, where he puts on something to play quietly as you talk.

“I was shot down back in forty-four and landed in Germany,” Dr. Egan pulls out a cigar from his pocket before clipping it and lighting it, “You don’t mind, right?”

You shake your head and let him continue his story.

“Managed to hide for a day before I was found. It was a rough few days of being captured. I thought I was going to die for sure until I made a run for it when I had the chance.”

You watch Dr. Egan carefully, his eyebrows furrowed as he replayed the memories in his head. He puffs the cigar before sighing, “Then I got captured for real by the Nazis, and they interrogated me. Didn’t say a word.”

“I bet that was terrifying,” you frown.

“Yeah,” Dr. Egan nods, his face breaking out into a solemn smile, “Before I got shot down, Gale had been declared MIA. I was worried he had gotten into trouble, but Gale is Gale, he always got himself out of any trouble he got into. Anyway, when I got to the POW camp, I found him there. So we stuck together.”

“That’s good that you had someone you knew there,” you say.

“Knew a few men there, actually. Some didn’t make it out.”

You put a hand on Dr. Egan’s knee, the whiskey making you a little brave, “You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to, Professor.”

Dr. Egan glances down at your hand before moving his eyes back to yours, “Like I said, I’d rather remember than forget.”

Your hand doesn’t leave his knee as he continues his story, describing the work he had to do over the months he was at the camp. Dr. Egan finally gets to when he escapes, and they end up at another POW camp, where the Nazis fail. 

“I ran around like a madman looking for a flag,” Dr. Egan chuckles, shaking his head, “Did finally find one. Scrambled up to the pole and put up that American flag, and for the first time since the war started, I felt safe.”

“Do you still feel that way? Safe?” you ask.

“I don’t think there’ll be another war anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Egan lets his cigar go out.

“No, I mean, do you feel safe in general? My father still has nightmares about it all. He refuses to get help,” you say sadly.

“There are times I’ll wake up sweating without remembering what I dreamt about, and there’s no doubt it’s about the war,” Dr. Egan polishes off his second glass of whiskey, “But I’m in a good place. I do what I love, and I get to teach brilliant minds like you.”

“That’s great. What more could you want?” 

Dr. Egan snorts at that, waving his hand dismissively, “Nothing that I could discuss without embarrassment.”

“We tell each other just about everything, Dr. Egan,” you say, leaning in a tad closer, “You can trust me.”

Dr. Egan lets his eyes flutter to your lips for only a second before boring his eyes into yours, “But can you trust me?”

“I do. I do trust you,” you say softly, taking in the odd look on your superior’s face.

“I’m just alone whenever I’m not in class or on campus. And it gets to me sometimes,” Dr. Egan shrugs, “No big deal.”

“Many of us wish for more in the romance department, Dr. There’s no embarrassment there.”

Your palm burns through Bucky’s slacks, and he feels fidgety when making contact. It had been a while since anyone had laid a hand on him in any way. It didn’t help that you made him nervous. You’re quite the looker and intelligent beyond your means. You’re compassionate about everything and seem to notice Bucky more than everyone else. Maybe it’s because you knew there was something about him the day you met him that was different. And now that you know what it is, you don’t treat him any differently. 

“It’s just that not everyone wants to be with someone with a past like mine or deal with the current consequences of that past, you know?” 

Your face contorts into one of sadness, “Oh, that’s not true, Dr. Egan.”

“You can call me John, you know,” Dr. Egan says abruptly.

“There’s a lot of people who wouldn’t mind being with someone with a rough past, John.  A lot of us have things we carry that we aren’t proud of,” you say.

“Would you mind?” 

“Mind what?”

“A rough past.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t mind it.”

You suddenly notice how close the two of you have become in proximity, and you struggle to snap out of the haze filling the room. Bucky knows better, but he still lets his hand find your hip. His touch is blazing hot, and you nearly gasp at the sensation. He gently guides you onto his lap, where you perch yourself without much thought. Bucky’s other hand finds itself on your other hip, his fingers squeezing deftly into the fabric of your skirt. He stares up at you without a word, the room now quiet as the record had long since stopped playing. 

“What else would you not mind?” Dr. Egan asks you, his gaze taking in your form.

You exhale shakily and let a laugh escape your lips, “Not much.”

Dr. Egan lets his right hand slide up your body until he reaches your neck, his thumb lightly caressing your pulse, “That doesn’t help me any, doll.”

You know it’s wrong, but it feels so right. It feels so perfect to be the center of Dr. Egan’s attention and to be so close to him physically. You’re both adults and are capable of making decisions, even if they have consequences. You decide to end Dr. Egan’s teasing and you move your hands from where they were on his shoulders to his cheeks. Pulling him to you, you meet halfway to press your lips to his. Something in that moment feels complete, like the stars are aligned and the world is standing still. Dr. Egan’s hand grasps the back of your neck as he kisses back, throwing all caution to the wind. 

You feel yourself getting too warm, so you pull away from the embrace with a little reluctance. Dr. Egan follows your lips before opening his eyes.

“Why’d you stop?”

“It has been a while for you, hmm? Take a lady to dinner first, John,” you fix a piece of hair behind his ear, chuckling at his expression.

“Dinner it is, then.”

#john bucky egan #john egan #bucky egan #john “bucky” egan #john bucky egan x reader #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #mota #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air au #callum turner #callum turner x reader #floralcyanide writes

[steviesbicrisis]

Are you dating Eddie Munson?

I haven't stopped thinking about this AU idea so I decided to write a little bit more! I have other stuff in mind so I might write other scenes too, we'll see. A little summary for you:

Eddie and Steve have been dating for a few months now, and things couldn't go better between them. Being a popular kid and all, Eddie's love life is the talk of the campus, and everybody seems to wonder: what does Eddie Munson see in that ordinary freshman?

Steve doesn’t how it’s possible, but he's pretty sure words are moving around the page in front of him; some are blurry, others have a messed up order and a few are totally jumping out.

It wouldn't be the first time that happens to him, either. Sometimes it's impossible to focus, and the more he tries the fastest the words escape from him.

There's no solution for this either. Steve would never admit out loud how stupid he is, not over his dead body, so he'd rather stare at the same paragraph for hours than admit he doesn't understand. Robin is sitting across from him, eyes focused on the same book but a different paragraph, she looks deep in thought and Steve would bet she is far ahead of him. Steve shifts in his seat, pulling the book closer so she won't see he's still at the beginning of the chapter.

He looks back at the page, determined to at least finish reading it - the bare minimum - before they have to go to class.

«Hi, sorry to bother you but I have to ask - are you and Eddie Munson dating?»

Steve grips his book, because of course, as if his morning isn't going shits already, he also has to deal with this. Again. He gives one last glance at the paragraph before looking up «sorry, didn’t catch your name…?» he says instead, giving the girl the fakest smile he can master.

He is sure Robin is containing a laugh behind her book.

«Uhm, I’m Stacy» she’s taken aback, and a little annoyed «so, are you? dating.»

«I don't know for how much longer,» he says, teeth clenched. And really, he knows he's being dramatic and he knows that it's just an innocent question. Hell, he'd rather have them blatantly ask him than flirt with his boyfriend behind his back, but when you get asked the same question a million times over, you're bound to get a little pissed.

«Excuse me?»

«I mean, isn't that what you wanted to hear? You would be happy if I did, wouldn’t you? How about I do you a favor and write it down so you also have proof to show! Hell, I could make a fucking poster and hang it somewhere, so you and the rest of the student body will know for sure and will leave me the fuck alone.»

The girl - Stacy - takes a step back, her eyes fixed on Steve in a comical expression of shock and disbelief. She then turns to look at someone, probably mouthing something about Steve to her friends, like "can you believe this guy?" or "Munson must be crazy".

«Are we done?»

Stacy doesn't even bother to answer, she gives him a look of "you are insane" and walks away.

«Steve-»

«I know okay?» he interrupts Robin, not wanting to hear it «it’s stupid and I should let it go, but it pisses me off.»

«Then talk to Eddie! he could do something» she suggests, closing her book. It’s time for their first lecture. Steve hasn't even managed to finish the paragraph in two hours. Shit.

Talking with Eddie would be the better choice, it doesn’t make it any easier.

---

Steve is finally done with his last lecture and he's cutting through the inner courtyard to reach Robin at the entrance Hall. People have been whispering around him all day so he knows not only that the Stacy girl has no shame in pursuing taken men, she also has a big mouth.

Someone catches up with him and puts an arm around his middle.

«So, what is this thing about you breaking up with me with a billboard? Let me tell you it won’t work - I’m a sucker for drama and attention» Eddie presses on his side, his face only a few inches from Steve's. His smile is an amused one.

From the start, Eddie never shied away from physical touch: once he was sure Steve was comfortable with it - and not only he was, he loved it - there was always a part of Eddie in contact with him, whether it was an arm over his shoulders, fingers in his hair, hand on his back. Accordingly, they rarely did more than that in public, because even tho they were not hiding their relationship, homophobes still exist in 2022 and they live in Indiana.

Steve rolls his eyes and looks the other way, clenching the books he's carrying in his arms. Eddie's presence is enough to make him feel better, but he wants to stay mad «your groupies are delusional. And drop that grin or I might actually take on that billboard idea. I’ll make a giant one, over the main entrance» his tone is deadly serious but Eddie knows him better than to believe anything he's saying. He covers his grin with one hand, just in case.

«I know you're still smiling, Munson. I have a huge sheet and red paint at home and I'm not afraid to use it! It will look like that scene in Harry Potter, with the bloody writing on the wall and everything.»

Eddie can't believe that his boyfriend - who barely knew what Lord of the Rings was before they started dating - has just laid out a Harry Potter reference for him like it was a daily occurrence. He wants to kiss the daylight out of him, but that would make him actually mad.

So he puts his other arm around his stomach, caging him. They're forced to a stop.

«I'm sorry baby, you're just so cute all worked up,» Eddie says, containing himself from gushing all over him. Steve still avoids his gaze, but he's clearly melting under Eddie's attention. Pet names and physical touch always get through him.

«I'm glad one of us is having fun» Steve deadpans.

Eddie keeps one of his arms around his waist and lifts Steve's chin up with his free hand «I'm not gonna lie, it is kinda funny. And you are very cute and hot at the same time - somehow - but» he emphasizes the last word, dramatically, « I don't want you to be upset so, talk to me.»

Steve is a little embarrassed. He knows it doesn't matter, he's been through this before. People love gossiping, and he really doesn't care what they say. But also, he used to be the one on the other side, no one has ever questioned him being with anybody, or has given him that look of disgust he got from Eddie's most loyal fans.

Even so, Eddie has nothing to do with it.

«I'm sorry. I get you're some sort of rock star here, and I love that for you, I really do, but...» he's struggling to find the right words «... I don't know, I guess I'm a little jealous.»

«of the groupies?»

«No! Well, I don’t enjoy their presence, for sure. It’s more-» he’s trying to find the right words, Eddie rubs his palms on his back to encourage him «it’s about you. But not you - you, it's the way you carry yourself, like you were made for college! And everyone here can tell, as much as they can tell that I wasn't. I barely know which class I’m taking when, I don't understand what I'm studying and I feel like everyone here already knows what they’re doing, like they went to college before going to college, if this even makes any sense… and, I don’t know, it’s hard already when you know that you’re fucking up, but when everyone else knows and wonders why the great Eddie Munson is dating you of all people- it’s not great. But also, I can't even read a simple introductive chapter without getting a headache, so I get why people might have some reservations against me, I just wish they would keep it for themselves instead of bugging me every second of my life!»

While he was talking, Eddie had made them both sit at one of the picnic tables scattered around the court, he realizes.

It's clear to both of them that Steve's outburst isn't just about the gossip.

«I had no idea this was bothering you this much,» Eddie says, earnestly.

Steve starts fidgeting with Eddie's rings on his right hand, his left arm is still on Steve's back. He feels pathetic, bothering his boyfriend with trivial matters and his stupidity.

«It's not a big deal» he tries to take back some of his words, but Eddie interrupts him immediately.

«It is a huge deal if it bothers you this much. Plus, I get some curiosity about us, but asking you almost every day is just, fucked up.»

«Well, that's popularity for you. I thought you had figured this out by now» Steve jokes.

«Well, I was supposed to learn how to manage it from an expert, but somehow I always get distracted when he lectures me» he manages to make Steve chuckle. «But let's talk about college for a second. It flatters me that you think of me as a perfect social butterfly, but do I need to remind you that I came to you a couple of months ago because I couldn't take it anymore? Also» he shifts in his seat, taking Steve's hands in his «you're not giving yourself enough credit. College is fucking hard, man, especially first year. Everything is so big and serious and different compared to high school, you think I was this confident in my first year? it takes time to adjust, maybe even more for you since - well - you used to have the school at your feet. So trust your gorgeous, perfect-»

«I never said you were perfect.»

Eddie ignores him «-super famous boyfriend: you're doing great, you'll get there and even if you don't, there's no shame in failing. Okay?»

Steve stares at him for a few seconds, then nods «okay. But I don't think I can stand more people questioning your sanity for dating me.»

«Honestly, I'm pretty sure you misread the whole thing. They're totally thinking “why is Eddie Munson dating this hottie of all people? I don’t stand a chance”» Steve laughs, Eddie gets up «but just to be sure they won't bother you anymore...» he jumps on the picnic table, and Steve's eyes widen comically.

«Eddie what are you doing?? Come down!» he knows his boyfriend and his love for big grand speeches too well to not guess what he has in mind.

Eddie blows him a kiss «Attention everyone! Your favorite music department student has an announcement to make!» some people from said department immediately cheer and he thanks them with an exaggerated bow. Steve hides his face in his palm, knowing there's no way he can stop him now.

«I've heard there has been some confusion so let me clear the air: I, Eddie Munson, have been involved in a consensual, very sexual» Steve makes a strangled noise and a few people whistle «but also romantic relationship with this hot piece of ass right here» he puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, leaving him no way to escape «Steve Harrington» he bends forward, Steve looks up at him and Eddie gives him a quick upside-down peck, as to reinforce the concept «who isn’t going to break up with me today, tomorrow or never. So, it’s none of your fucking business but if any of you shitheads has any concerns on this matter, you know where to find me. Thank you for your attention» he jumps off the table, the curious students who had stopped to witness the scene are giving a mix of incredulous, baffled and admiring reactions. Eddie barely cares, his eyes are on Steve.

«I fucking hate you» Steve immediately tells him.

«No you don’t» he's smirking.

«I'm breaking up with you right now.»

«No, you aren't, Stevie» his smile is somehow even bigger.

«I really, actually, genuinely hate you,» Steve says, hugging him. Eddie hugs him back, tight.

«How are you feeling?» Eddie whispers in his ear.

«I wanna say better but then I'm validating you putting up a show every time we have a problem.»

«I am nothing but a humble knight serving his Majesty the King,» he says, using a pompous tone for his character.

«I need no man saving my regal ass, thank you very much.»

When they reach the main Hall, Eddie's arm once again around his middle, Robin is waiting for them, a mischievous grin on her face «Excuse me» she addresses Steve, loudly «are you the famous Hot-Piece-of-Ass engaged in a consensual and very sexual relationship with Eddie Munson?»

Steve flips her off as Eddie laughs and high-fives her.

Let's just say, the nickname will stick with Steve for a while.

#steddie #modern au #college au #steve and eddie #steve x eddie #small fic #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #platonic stobin #bi steve harrington #gay eddie munson #role swap steddie #popular eddie munson #unpopular steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #established steddie #established relationship steddie #college steddie #modern au steddie #sbc writes #ficlets

[idyllcy]

I'm so impulsive, got a flight to the east coast already

word count: 1.5k

summary: As Tim sits on the plane, he can only— shit. You're cute.

Three days, four hours, two minutes, and eleven seconds counting.

That's how long Tim's been awake.

Sure, he should do something that isn't flying out for personal business last minute in economy class— but he should also really not be allowed to stay awake for so long. He needs to fly back to Gotham from Jump City, and somehow, for some wretched, cruel twist of fate, he's stuck flying economy class because Bruce is using the private plane for WE business. First class is somehow, cruelly, awfully booked full, and even business class was not let up. Tim Drake, for the first time since birth, is stuck sitting in economy class, cramming with others. He's sure this is payback for being awake for three days without a single nap.

Maybe he'd get kidnapped for ransom on top of it.

"Here's your ticket. You'll be at gate 20." The lady at the register smiles.

Tim has no carry-ons other than his messenger bag, and for the first time in ages, TSA is hell to go through. He waits in line with the rest of the people, hands them his ID, gets a plethora of questions asked to him about why he was flying economy, and finally makes it to the gate. He wonders if he should use his card to check into the VIP lounge, but he has barely any time to think about it, noticing his flight's already about to board.

He ends up being one of the last ones to board, running to his gate and handing them his ticket before entering. God, he needs to get a plane of his own with his inheritance sometime. Flying in economy sounds like the worst experience yet, and sure, he's privileged to say it— but he'd much rather stick to first class or even business at worse.

Though, as he meets eyes with the person he's sitting next to, he pauses.

Oh. Shit. You're cute.

"Awh..." You pout playfully. "And here I thought I'd be able to get three whole seats to myself."

Tim laughs to the best of his ability, sitting next to you and tucking his bag under his seat, yawning as he slouches back.

"Long day?"

"Long week." He mumbles.

"Yeah? Tell me about it." You yawn too, slouching back into your seat. Tim glances at you as you tilt your head at him, curious to see what was his problem. Maybe it would pique your interest. A six-hour flight really doesn't sound that bad, but then again, Tim needs some sort of sleep before he knocks out. Right. Shit. He forgot his neck pillow.

"Call me privileged, but this is my first time flying economy." He blinks. "God, I'm tired."

"Want my pillow?" You pull it from your neck, holding it out for Tim.

"Are you an angel?"

"Erm, not quite." You smile awkwardly, shrugging. "But I don't sleep on domestic flights."

"What are you flying for?" Tim clips the pillow around his neck, moaning quietly at the comfort.

"Family. I heard one of my parents got hurt. I bought the only ticket left."

"Funny. I'm going back for family business too." Tim snorts.

How you have not yet called Tim out for being a Wayne is beyond him. He's too tired to analyze you, sinking into his seat as he closes his eyes, humming as you continue rambling.

"So? Why this flight?"

"Got a call from my old man this morning about how I needed to attend a meeting for him." Tim mumbles. "God do I hate him sometimes."

"Business meeting?"

"Yeah. The worst part is that those old geezers weren't willing to host it on Zoom like a normal person." Tim sighs. "They made me buy my own ticket too. The disrespect is wild."

"Do they do this to your dad?"

"Never." Tim groans. "If I fall asleep while you talk, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Sounds rough." You smile. "Any drink orders?"

"Zesti." He mumbles. "But a can, please."

"I'll let them know." You hum.

Tim knocks out cold. It's the quickest he's slept in ages, and the neck pillow feels so good he thinks he's going to heaven. He wouldn't mind dying on this plane— Not when he's sleeping so well. God, maybe he'd actually have a better flight experience on economy. (it would, however, NOT be a more than once experience. Economy was a nightmare. That was his sleep deprivation speaking, not him.)

You open your laptop, go back to your document, and join the free internet as you continue typing on the document. You text the server for advice, bouncing ideas off of each other as you go on a tangent about the cute boy next to you at the airport. The chat goes insane as you try to explain that there is no way you are going to meet him again; the universe simply would not allow it, but they ignore you, spilling story prompts and stirring the worms in your brain. Fuck.

You grumble quietly as you start a new document for the idea.

Halfway through the flight, Tim leans onto your side, head meeting your shoulder, his lips parted as he drools a little, eyes still closed. You blink at him slowly, making sure he was still asleep before going back to typing. You order him a can of Zesti when the flight attendants come by before typing on your laptop again. You wonder if he knows anything about the vigilantes of Gotham. Maybe you'll ask him when he wakes up. Though, as you write fanfiction for a meet-cute with a vigilante on a plane, you think you'd rather die than ask him a question about vigilantism. Your boldness could only go so far.

When you finish your drink and doc, you glance at the time. You had another two hours to kill before descent, and you were kind of starting to regret not bringing another neck pillow. Listen. He's cute. You'd give your neck pillow to him any day if it meant he would call you an angel. His voice? His face? God, he was so hot it was kind of daunting. Maybe you'd ask him for his number later. Then again, he'd probably say no. What kind of a Gotham elite would give his number to a random person?

Hell, it's not as if you even went to school in Gotham either. You try and put your finger on which Gotham elite he is, but you come to no fruit as you think of the big ones. There's no way he's Bruce Wayne despite the uncanny blue eyes and black hair combo. Maybe one of his sons? But then again, Dick Grayson was much taller than the boy next to you. You don't actually recall what his other two sons look like. Two? Three? You don't remember if his second son is alive. Last you checked, he is. So it'd be three, huh? It's also definitely not his Asian daughter.

You give up on figuring out who he is and settle for closing your laptop and putting it back in your bag, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his, racing heart only calming when you fall asleep.

The two of you stay that way until a flight attendant wakes you up to put your tray back, waking Tim too on accident, the boy blinking slowly as you close the tray, tilting his head at you.

"God, maybe I am in heaven." He mumbles.

You laugh much brighter this time, warmth flushing your skin and blood rushing to your neck, embarrassed as Tim registers his own words, horrified at his boldness.

"I'm so sorry—"

"No, no." You continue laughing, the joy still in your voice as you continue. "I'm touched. I don't get called angel often."

"Really?" Tim mumbles. "How long until landing?"

"Thirty minutes." You smile. "They had me put my tray back. You can go back to sleep if you want—"

"Can I have your number?" Tim blurts.

"A-ah?" You stare at him wide-eyed.

"Oh, is that too much? I just really wanted to go out with you for coffee, you see. You can say no if you're uncomfortable, really. You're allowed to do that. Actually, please do that. I don't know if I'll be able to—"

"Yes!" You cut him off. "Yeah. Yeah. You can have my number."

The two of you exchange numbers the last thirty minutes of the flight, names and information exchanged, a light flush on your cheeks, and a visible one on Tim's face.

Tim thinks this is his reward for flying economy for once. (And maybe, just maybe, he'd fly economy back if it meant he would be with you again.)

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #dc x reader #☾.fics