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teabutmakeitazure · 10 months

Text

Dissimulation

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)

>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday

Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack

An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.

Continuation

Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.

Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.

Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.

Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.

The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.

You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second.

The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.

About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.

“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.

No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.

Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.

“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.

All you receive in response is a shrug.

Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.

The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.

“I may have made a mistake.”

That causes you to frown. “What happened?”

“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”

“Well, what?”

He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”

“...”

“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”

You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”

“Please!”

“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.

Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.

“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”

You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”

“Was he mad?”

“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”

“Who knows?”

“Right…”

Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.

You just hope you make it.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.

Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.

“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”

“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”

The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”

Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”

He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”

How do you even reply to that?

Scratch that, should you even reply to that?

He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.

“Understood... Childe.”

The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.

Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.

As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.

Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.

Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.

What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.

Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?

You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.

“Something’s on your mind again.”

His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.

Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax.

“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.

“You must be thinking about something.”

Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.

“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”

“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”

“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.

“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”

Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.

“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”

Well… shit.

How do you go about this…

You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”

Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.

“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”

Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said.

Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."

He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."

You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.

"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"

Where did that come from?

Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"

"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"

Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"

"W-why?"

"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"

Did… did you just get asked out on a date?

Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.

You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”

His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?��

“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.

Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”

In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”

“So you’re only worried about your grades?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”

“Yes! Wait…”

He smiles. “Go on~”

You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”

The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”

“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”

You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?

“That’s way too short!”

“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.

However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.

He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”

“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”

The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.

“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.

Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.

The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.

The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”

You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”

“Okay but what time-”

“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”

With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.

You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.

He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready.

Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.

Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.

This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.

At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’

Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’

Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?

7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.

7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know.

7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.

7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.

The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.

“Going somewhere?”

You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”

He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”

“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”

“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”

You don’t even want to know what that means.

“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”

You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”

“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.

A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.

The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.

Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?

You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.

Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.

It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.

“Would you… prefer the back seat?”

You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”

Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”

Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?

Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.

Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.

The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”

The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”

A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.

“Are you scared?”

Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”

“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”

“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.

“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”

He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”

As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.

Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.

The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.

The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together.

The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.

“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.

“It’s… nice.”

“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”

Next time? Good God what is he planning?

Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"

"N-no. That's not it…"

"Hm?"

You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."

"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."

Again, next time? Not happening.

Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.

It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.

"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."

You nod. "Interesting."

Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.

You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?"

He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"

"The silence."

"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."

Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.

Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.

Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice.

He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.

Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.

A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes.

"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."

Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."

Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."

"That's fair."

"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"

"Ouch!"

The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.

"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."

Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail.

He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.

The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.

"Childe."

He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.

"Childe. Let go-"

A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily.

The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.

"Be careful."

You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.

Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.

Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.

It's honestly a little funny.

Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.

Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.

When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.

His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.

"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."

You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"

"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."

So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.

When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.

The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.

You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.

“Let me treat my girl.”

My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.

You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.

The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.

Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.

“Did you… enjoy yourself?”

“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”

“...”

“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”

Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”

Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”

He blinks. “I’m nice?”

“Yes.”

Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”

“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”

“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”

Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”

“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”

The chips in your room lived to see another day.

The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.

You stop in your tracks to shiver.

It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.

The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.

Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.

Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.

The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.

“Hi!”

You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable.

The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.

Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.

However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?

Should… should you be worried?

It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It��s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.

Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.

You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.

First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.

You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.

Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter.

Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”

He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”

“I just said so. You seem off.”

“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.

Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.

“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.

So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”

He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”

The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”

“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“But I’m really not.”

“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”

Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”

“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”

You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“...”

“How can I change your mind?”

“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”

“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.

“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”

“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”

Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”

“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”

You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”

Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.

Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.

He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.

But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.

Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?

Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.

At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.

The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.

You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator.

The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.

Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.

Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.

The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-

“[Name]?”

The breeze stops blowing.

“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”

Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.

Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.

Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.

What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.

There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.

“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.

“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”

“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.

“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”

You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”

“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”

Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.

It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.

You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.

“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”

That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”

You don’t like where this is going.

Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”

The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.

The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.

You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.

The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.

Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.

What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.

A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.

Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.

The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”

Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”

He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.

After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.

The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.

“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.

“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”

The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.

“How much more are you going to lie?”

Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual.

No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.

“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”

You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”

“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”

With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.”

He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”

A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.

“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Childe!”

Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.

You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”

“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”

He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.

“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.

“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”

The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”

“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like this!”

He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”

Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.

Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.

“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?

“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”

Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”

The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.

“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”

He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”

You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”

“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.

Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.

“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”

In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”

You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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orionremastered · 4 months

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Ok but just imagine :

Surgeon!Damian Wayne and Surgical intern/resident!reader. Or the reader could be an attending idk? But it’s so enemies to lovers coded! The tension??!???!!!!! Damian is the scary attending and the reader doesn’t dower like the rest? Or the reader is sunshine and the complete opposite of Damian’s personality. It’s a very scrambled idea but I just thought you might like to work with it?

Enemies to lovers? sign me tf up

Also, istg I had no idea what a surgical resident was before this. For those who don't know, they spend about five-ish years in a hospital and are usually under direct supervision of a more senior resident or an attending surgeon, attending for short.

Masterlist

Surgeon!Damian Wayne x Surgical Resident!reader

Part One, Part Two

You’re not stressed, you’re just… very close to breaking down. Or breaking a law. Or breaking someone’s nose “accidentally”. Or breaking… it didn’t matter what you broke, you just needed to break it.

Two years in to your internship at Gotham General hospital and you couldn’t be more of a wreck. In the bathroom stall no less- getting yelled at by the chief resident after not knowing what some extremely rare condition was (he didn’t even know it himself) and getting called one or two slurs by a senior resident wasn’t something you were used to and yet you knew it was normal.

Taking in a deep breath, you exit the stall and wash your hands and face before making your way to the OR, muttering positive phrases in your mind that were not helping at all.

With one more nod to yourself for reassurance, you open the door and are immediately greeted by the one face you didn’t want to see.

Dr. Wayne had a very prominent reputation for being less than friendly, for giving any resident- no matter how experienced- mental breakdowns and most importantly for being one of the best cardiac surgeons in Gotham. You exchange a nervous glance with another second-year resident, but only for as long as you dared.

Somehow, you were walking on eggshells without even taking a step.

The patient required a maze procedure, where the surgeon creates a pattern of scar tissue that allows the heart’s rhythm to return to normal.

You try sneaking a glance or two to the attending surgeon, but he glares back at you in warning before you can deduce his mood. Although that was probably a good tell.

The patient finally drifts off to sleep, you shift your attention right back to the attending as he begins the procedure with an incision on the patient’s chest.

Two hours later and maybe a bit too much yelling, the surgery was complete. The other residents begin leaving, but Dr. Wayne stays. You’re about to leave too when a low voice fills the silent space.

“That was the District Attorney,” Dr. Wayne says, and you pause all thought. You did everything right, didn’t you? You didn’t really do much, honestly, but what you did was correct, right? “And I can’t have a day-one intern screw up and jeopardize his health. He’s had a heart surgery before.”

“Do you want me to-”

“Yes,” he snaps.

“What do I tell the-”

“Chief resident? Tell him it’s not his problem.”

You nod and awkwardly leave the OR as fast as possible, not risking another moment in the same room as the man who is known for biting people’s heads off. Not literally.

You hope.

Not wanting to take any chances with the attending surgeon, you manage to find a space just near the DA’s ward that allows you to do paperwork while also being able to easily see the patient every five or ten minutes.

It went on like this for an hour and a half without problem and a snack in between before you exited the DA’s ward yet again, only this time loud and angry steps echoed through the hallway.

Your head whips around and your heart immediately drops to your feet. Your blood runs cold as the chief resident storms down the hall, eyes deadset on you.

You open the door to his office and politely gesture for him to walk inside. The chief resident, Langley, stops, glares and despite his temper, he agrees. You follow him in and swallow nervously, heart pounding in your ears.

“Before you get mad-”

“I already am mad,” Langley seethes, slamming his meaty hand on the small desk. “You abandoned all of your duties to- to what, to suck up to the District Attorney?”

“No sir-”

“Other patients need care and we’re already short on staff without some fucking idiot thinking that they can do whatever the fuck they want-”

“Dr. Wayne specifically requested me to do post-operation patient care-”

Your voices had risen to the point of shouting. You wouldn’t be surprised if the DA could hear it or even the other staff in the nearby wards and hallways.

“He doesn’t need a FUCKING NANNY.” the chief resident cried, and in one swift movement, he grabs a binder and slams it into the side of your face. “And who gives a fuck what that stuck-up WAYNE SURGEON wants?”

“Who gives a fuck on what I want?” a calmer, lower and yet far more terrifying voice states behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck raise and Langley’s eyes go wide. “Certainly not you. And here’s the thing, Langley,” the surgeon moves you aside in the already crowded space, more gently than you expected as he steps towards the chief resident, broad shoulders blocking your view, “that’s a problem. I could have your future ruined with a simple phone call or complaint and you decide to simply not respect authority?”

“That bitch-”

“Did exactly what I wanted her to,” Dr. Wayne replies in the same condescending tone. “Maybe you could learn a thing or two.”

Silence, apart from Langley’s ragged breathing. The ear that was hit rings loudly and when you softly touch you cheek, you can feel a bruise forming.

“You won’t apologize? That’s fine,” the surgeon says with an innocent shrug. “Consider your career gone.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that, and neither did Langley. He sputters in an attempt to right the course of a train that’s already fallen off the cliff, his eyes no doubt as wide as his steadily shrinking ego.

Was Dr. Wayne serious? You were confident that he could ruin someone’s career in a single phone call- he’s the best cardiac surgeon in the state, maybe even the country, and a Wayne, for crying out loud- but would he really just ruin someone’s career so quickly?

“You can show yourself out, by the way.” The surgeon raises an arm in a mocking gesture, beckoning the chief resident to leave and never return. “Security can, too.”

With no options left, Langley huffs and pushes past Dr. Wayne. You can still hear his angry footsteps, like a stampede of bison, as he storms down the hall.

“Thank you,” you murmur to the surgeon as he slowly turns around, inspecting the blow you took by carefully holding your chin and jaw in his large hands. You couldn’t tell if your heart was beating faster when Langley started ripping into you or right now, in this very moment, when you’re forced to stare in to green eyes so close you can make out every speck of dark gold within them.

“Don’t worry about it.” You swear on God’s good graces that the man smiled, just a twitch of his lips. “And please, call me Damian.”

With that, he lets go of your jaw and exits your makeshift office, leaving you flustered and confused.

He wanted you to call him by his first name?

#damian wayne x reader #batfamily #batfam #x reader #batfamily x reader

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hyunjinspark · 1 year

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I can‘t even write detailed reviews and theories about SLWY anymore because every chapter leaves me braindead (in the best way). Like, I’m so overwhelmed with feelings after each chapter that I can‘t put them into coherent thoughts and this was no different, but I‘ll try.

Part 14 was different than I expected. I thought that Hyun was gonna be upfront about having to leave earlier. I also expected YN to (try to) talk things out with Lix and Hana. And I imagined the art internship to be a bigger topic, though I‘m sure it‘s gonna be picked up in the following parts. Long story short, I thought it was going to be a lot more angsty and dramatic, almost loud, but I love what you did with this chapter instead. It was a quiet sort of angst. Aside from being unexpected (for me, at least), I feel like despite it not being as sad as Part 13, the chapter had a constant melancholic undertone. I don‘t know if you did on purpose, but to me, it felt like it demonstrated YN headspace very well. She‘s trying to make happier memories, Hyun‘s trying to cheer her up, Yeonjun and our new (and very likable, btw) character Yuqi were there and despite everyone genuinely trying, there‘s a subtle - yet still very palpable - sadness and emptiness about YN and anything that doesn’t have to do with Hyun. I‘ve told you several times before, but the way you so realistically but poetically manage to write YN‘s mental wellbeing, which to me has well crossed into an actual depression-realm is heartbreakingly beautiful.

I love that Hyun and YN are breaking their own rules, but they don‘t constantly talk about said rules all the time as they did before. They‘re still aware of their situation, of course, but it‘s like they‘re letting themselves fall. I mean so many make-out sessions in a single chapter, you truly blessed us. Them constantly getting interrupted (phone calls, people walking in on them etc.) is a good metaphor to remind us (and them) of their situation, but it doesn‘t stop them anymore and I love that for HyunYN! 🥹 Though, I do wonder how much him finding out he has to leave earlier made a difference. ALSO, THE FIREFLY SCENE? JESUS H. CHRIST, YOU LITERALLY KILLED ME! The beautiful scenery and them just laying down in the dirt and making out? And when he… SORRY FOR THE TMI, BUT WHEN HE PUT HIS HANDS IN HER PANTIES AND ASKS IF HE COULD FINALLY FINGER HER WHILE CALLING HER BABY IN THE SAME SENTENCE, I PHYSICALLY CLENCHED. Like, I felt legitimate tingles. I‘m so glad I‘m anonymous because you‘d never catch me admitting that openly. I screamed at my phone when Yuqi interrupted.

The convo with Felix, I honestly think - as much as he sucks (the SLWY version of him, ofc) - he was pretty spot-on about her hurting herself. Though saying she wanted "things she can‘t have" is very harsh and untrue, the initial thought he had I do agree with. She does seem a bit self-destructive because of the positions she puts herself in. Not only with her past relationships, but her current situationship with Hyun, her absolutely disgusting best friends (Lix and Hana), putting all eggs in one basket by only applying to one internship etc. This self-sabotage is very common for people with anxiety, unhealed trauma and depression, it happened to me as well and it breaks my heart seeing her this way, but it is so important that you made this part of the story. YN is such a mesmerizing protagonist, she is insanely likable, but she‘s not perfect. And the faults she does have don‘t make her annoying or weak, instead they‘re realistic and relatable. YN is honestly a very inspiring character.

I‘m already so excited for your poetic and romantic magic in the next chapter and I‘m curious to see how HyunYN will handle his secret being out and if they‘re gonna have an argument about it or choose to ignore it and enjoy their even more limited time together. This is all I can somewhat coherently say about this part, I wish you could look into my brain and how many thoughts I have about this story, but I absolutely loved it. And as always, you‘ve outdone yourself! Sending you so much love!

-👑

hi, my love ! dw, i love reading your thoughts even if they’re incoherent haha

what you said about the angst undertone, i really like that! i understand, it definitely could have gone the other direction and been much more louder, angstier, aggressive, but i knew i wanted it to be more towards the calm before the storm ~

im so happy you like yuqi’s character ! (except the interruption of course) the rules are so forgotten and theyre so far gone…and hyun finding out he has to leave is responsible for a lot of his behaviour this chapter…

i love everything you say about yn’s character, thank you for finding her mesmerising and likeable, i would hate for her to interpreted as annoying (?) even though she has a lot of self-sabotage qualities perhaps.

and the firefly scene… 😄 you made me laugh. thank you for letting me know that you liked it so much . :D

#star lost with you #👑 anon

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qui-qui-quee · 1 year

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Another New Year

I write this as my eyelids droop, knowing full well that if I don’t get this out now, I probably never will. Heck, it doesn’t seem like I wrote anything reflecting back on 2021 as we passed on to 2022. So I suppose I should try to come up with something coherent this time around.

Long post warning ahead, please do not reblog.

Let’s get this one out of the way: I graduated medical school.

Up until now I still cannot believe it happened, that I managed to get through all four years and earned a degree in Medicine. Granted, half of it was spent at home through online learning which isn’t the most conducive for training good doctors and I still have at least 6 months more of internships with evaluation methods I’m not used to, but to most laymen, I suppose you could say it was still quite a feat, earning that M.D. But honestly, the only reason I can confidently say why is that it was all through God’s grace.

Despite my mental health struggles, my wrestling with motivation, with my declining urge to study regularly and even care about this field, God still managed to get me through it and as I approach the half-way point of my internships, I really can only say that it was all because of Him. Because if it wasn’t, I shouldn’t even be here.

But this past year (and part of 2021) has also been a time of mulling over personal beliefs, goals, wants, desires, needs, etc. (partly thanks to a good Christian friend who has apparently had a knack for radicalizing other people she’s encountered, you know who you are). I’ve already mentioned this in a previous post but it has come to a point I prefer not to be that loud about my faith. And it is not because of fear of being judged, but rather because at the back of my head, i wonder if I truly believe what I’m saying.

Sure, I definitely believe and can explain the Gospel to a seeker (which frankly, I don’t encounter much of these days), and share encouraging words should they need it. I can explain what tradition says. But now I don’t know if I fully believe in that tradition. I also don’t usually go out of my way to connect people I don’t already know. I’ve come to believe it is simply not the time. My previous small group I was supposed to hold has since broken apart, no doubt due to my lack of initiative admittedly.

But I also have come to question concepts I had previously thought were considered “truth and nothing but the truth.”

Well, “question” may not be the right word, but more of “is this truly what God thinks is important?” Don’t get me wrong, I have zero doubt that the Gospel and therefore Jesus Christ, is True, and that the whole world would be better off knowing who He is and what He has done. But other concepts, like marriage or gender roles, sexuality, doctrines aside from the Gospel. Sure they’re gleaned from Scripture which is inerrant, but then I have come to learn that the word “inerrancy” in of itself by definition is an entirely debatable subject (and that our interpretations are unconsciously colored by culture). But we just don’t tend to question it because we’re always claiming it came from the Bible due to this or that reason, this biblical logic, etc. And when it is questioned, or there is disagreement, we often think “heretic”. But even God, the Mighty Creator that He is, knows full well how complex this world is, and by extension, ideologies, circumstances, beliefs, etc. So in the end, I’ve held back on whatever was left of my religious zeal and have been just trying to live simply and get by, adjusting where I need to, adapting when I should.

And yet at the same time, it has been exhausting. Thinking. Which is why I tend to stay away from these discussions nowadays unless I know I have enough time and energy for such things. Just the whole conversation around LGBT, I’ve grown tired of (though if you really wanna hear my updated thoughts on the matter, I suppose I can make a separate post but I dunno if I want to). I can barely keep up with politics these days, even church affairs. It might have even come to a point where I simply do not want to care.

Is it because of fatigue? Burnout? Depression? Perhaps, but these are the cards that I have been given for this past year and I have to deal with it. Somehow. Therapy is still on the table, I just haven’t gone around to searching, much less finding a compatible and helpful therapist.

Oh, and I found out (or rather had confirmed) that I’ve developed a disorder that runs in my family. It wasn’t surprising at the slightest considering my eating habits, and it’s cathartic that there is confirmation but now it means I’m at risk of developing further complications or even an earlier death (doesn’t sound so bad) down the road. We’ll see what God has planned on that.

So yeah, I suppose one could say I’ve been quite passive this year, being stuck in my head a lot, dealing with both two months of F2F clerkship and currently on my 5th month of internship. I can’t say anything that sounds like some hopeful message of looking forward to 2023 because the truth is...

I simply don’t know.

But let’s see where this road takes me.

(Photo by me. I’m not a blazing furnace. I’m a pile of glowing embers and whether I set fire once more or ultimately snuff out cold remains to be seen)

#qooky speaks #q life #q new year #2022 #2023 #featuring a photo I took

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thefaultinoursprinkles · 1 year

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I like. I need to process everything that’s been going on and I need to talk about how I’m feeling to be able to do that but I don’t.. want to I guess. I don’t want to bother people with my issues and I feel silly talking about how I feel. So then I think that I should go back to therapy so I have someone to talk to but I honestly really don’t want to unless it’s someone with a PhD because at this point I have as much education and training as a “mental health practitioner” and I’m about 2 years of internships away from an “LMFT” or other “licensed therapist”.

and that’s the other thing like, I’ve been in therapy for a long time, I’m a psych major, I did DBT, I feel like I’ve gotten everything I can out of “therapy” basically. So then like pursuing therapy just to talk through my emotions feels stupid and like a pointless waste of money to me. But then I go back and forth like would it actually help? Am I avoiding this out of shame or not wanting to damage my pride? Or as a form of self harm? Or do i genuinely think I won’t get anything out of it? Idk.

a big part of it too is that a lot of the stressors like with money and stuff are temporary and therapy isn’t going to help them. Like not to talk highly of myself but I’m pretty self actualized and the majority of my problems/stressors stem from external factors like not having enough money or my fiancee trying to kill themselves or close friends dying or work being stressful, which like therapy isn’t exactly going to solve any of those problems. It’s just supposed to teach you the skills to deal with those kind of things or change them or tolerate them which like. I already have. So again, pointless.

Even then, the problems i do have outside of external stuff are ones that I’m pretty confident cannot be treated through therapy. Like I really think a lot of my issues stem from unmediated adhd, and like I have skills that I use and I have work arounds and hacks and whatever else that are supposed to help me manage it better but it doesn’t work. like I take the notes and I track the things and I put trash cans everywhere and have other people remind me of stuff like. I can get by. but every fucking day of my life I am so overwhelmed by everything at work and at home and in relationships and I feel guilty and embarrassed that I can’t do the things that should be so easy.

Like every few days to every few weeks I find myself exasperated and thinking “WHY CANT I JUST DO IT. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. THIS IS SO SIMPLE. WHAT IS FUCKING WRONG WITH ME” and like on some level I know it’s because I have symptoms syndrome and it affects me but I feel like there’s nothing to do.

like I’m doing all the stuff I’m supposed to do, I’m doing all the stuff that therapists and counselors have told me to do and I’m doing all the stuff that is recommended in the DSM V and I stay up to date on the current research in the causes, management, and treatment of specifically adhd but also generally all psych topics because I’m just genuinely interested in them so I read peer reviewed journals for fun.

And there are some things like. Idk exercise. And I’m like oh I should exercise then I’m like well not “should” but I want to exercise because I know it makes me feel better and it’s been proven to help with focus and clarity as well as alleviate symptoms of depression. And then I find myself being like “I can’t I can’t I can’t” so they I think about it. Why can’t I? And it’s like well, I don’t have enough time, I’m always tired, blah blah blah. And I think really the root is that I don’t want to spend “my” time doing something I don’t like doing and I don’t have any way to do the exercises I actually like (like biking or swimming).

So then I get back around to like okay we’ll I’m not actually doing EVERYTHING I can I’m not exercising or watching my diet, I could be doing more. So then I try to plan out time to do it and I set reminders and then I fail and fail and fail and fail and give up.

And it’s like what is therapy going to do? I know they’re gonna tell me to sleep and eat and exercise and be mindful. I know I need to do those things and I want to do those things but I CANT and I don’t know WHY.

AND THEN I loop back around to like what the fuck is wrong with me I know I need to do these things I want to fucking do these things I LIKE doing these things SO WHY CANT I JUST DO IT WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and it starts all over.

And how do you explain that to someone? I’m objectively successful. I’m well educated. I have a high paying job. I don’t get into extreme legal or financial trouble. I have lots of very supportive and close friends and family. I don’t have the “right” things wrong with me to have people understand or recognize the struggle going on behind the scenes to do any of it. Like I know what to do, I do most of it, and it’s, by all accounts but mine, working well because I’m able to live independently and maintain relationships and hold a job and even get promoted at said job. So to any therapist I talk to it’s like. “Why are you here?” And I have to explain like yes I know I’m making it work I’m doing impressive things but I’m DYING I’m constantly stressed and overwhelmed and anxious and on the brink of a panic attack. I spend hours of my day staring at wall screaming inside my head about all the stuff I have to do but unable to do it. I’m smart enough to be really good at doing what I need to do to get by or knowing where to focus my efforts but I constantly feel like I’m in an out of control car spinning out with no brakes.

and I feel so stuck because I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t think there’s anything else I can realistically do to have a better handle on things, this is just the reality. Like I feel like I just need to accept that this is how it’s going to be and this is how it’s going to feel because I truly do not think there is anything that could possibly help me get out of this internal mess.

and of course, then I start thinking like, that’s pretty defeatist, am I giving up before I even try? So then I feel like, even more than before, i just need to try harder and do better and get further because it’s my own lazy ridiculous fault that im in this position in the first place.

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sparklingchan · 3 years

Text

Ruby Eyes|| Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word count : 7.3k+

Warnings : Mention of an accident, cuss words, divorce, a single kiss.

Genre : Romance, Soulmate AU, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers.

Description: Seo Changbin has done everything in his capacity to remove and replace you, yet fate seems to have different plans for the both of you.

A/N : Hello everyone ahhh I know it’s been so long y’all. So many things have been going on including exams and internships and I just didn’t have the patience to write :(( This one shot was written as a part of a collab event by wonderful, dear Ro!

I hope y’all like it!

"So, how's it being back, y/n?"

Your dad looks older now than he did the last time you saw him - probably two years ago, when you were leaving the country.

You missed him, really. You missed his warmth and his wisdom and how he was a sharp contrast to your mother, more calm and composed. Sometimes you wonder how your mother had even managed to get your custody after their divorce.

"Okay, I guess." You lie.

You didn't want your father to know how your feelings are all over the place, ranging from sadness to anger and longingness.

It's a weird thing to be experiencing such a cocktail of emotions when you'd convinced yourself these feelings had disappeared the day you left the old neighborhood, seven years ago. You had not felt any attachment towards the new neighborhood that you and your mother then went on to live for the next two years before you moved abroad for your studies. Yet you feel nostalgic now, as your father drives you through your old old neighborhood.

"How's mom?" He asks, taking a left to a road all too familiar to you, "Is she still going to therapy?"

You nod, "She's getting better, I think. The new country seems to have changed her. The therapy is helping too. She has many friends there now. "

At first when you were offered a job at one of the biggest publishing companies in the world, you were ecstatic. But everything soon died down when you found out you were posted at a branch in the country you'd left behind. It was your mother who'd convinced you to take it.

"I know you don't like being back, y/n." Your dad smiles sadly when he pulls over infront of your old house.The house that contains years of secrets, tears, lies and whispered confessions in front of the mirror stands in front of you, as grand and pretty as ever. It looks different but similar enough to make you tear up a tad bit.

"But I'm glad you're here. I really am." He says, "I renovated the house a little when you told me you were moving back. I hope it's okay."

You smile at the old man, wrapping your arms around him, "Thanks, dad. I missed you. I'm glad you're here, too."

He pecks your forehead, "I missed you, too, love."

Moving in doesn't take a lot of time since your dad had already set up everything. You just had to get some of your stuff and you were ready to kick start your stay.

That evening, your father leaves after making you promise to call him if anything happens at all and when the front door closes, you find yourself in the company of your old room.

You lie on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you hum an old tune to yourself. And without meaning to, you find yourself thinking about him; The man you hadn't seen or talked to for a whole seven years. The man who'd tried his best to stay in touch with you yet gave up when you didn't reciprocate the same.

A horrific realization then dawns on you,

He'd obviously replaced you now.

The familiar clouds of grief loom over you, threatening to engulf you any moment now.

No. Not now, please.

Getting up from your bed immediately, you shake your head as you make your way to the mirror- the mirror that had encountered more honest tears and smiles and words than any human ever had. You stare at your reflection as tears escapes your eyes, the bright red iris of your right eye staring back at you when you rub your tears off.

You shiver.

"Shit, I forgot to wear the contacts."

Quickly grabbing your lenses from your bag, you put them on, concealing the scary blood red color of your right eye. You take two long strides across the room and pulling your favorite black hoodie over your head, you walk out of the door.

By the time you manage to leave the house, it's already 10:30 in the evening. A quiet calmness has fallen over the town, as the shops and restaurants near the market square slowly start closing up. Your feet are as if on autopilot, taking you to that one place you know would still be open; Yang's Café.

And rightly so, the smell of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nostrils when you walk through their main door, past the group of chatty teenagers waiting outside. This place hasn't changed much, you realize, the brown and golden hues of the place and the vintage coffee cups collection in the far corner of the Cafe are still the same. The only difference is that you're no longer here with your best friend right after school, you are here all alone on an evening too quiet for your liking.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

When you turn around to face the owner of the voice, you are stunned.

"Jeongin?"

Jeongin's family has owned this Cafe for three generations now, from his great-grandparents, his grandparents, his parents and soon enough it'll pass down to him. As a kid, you remember often playing with Jeongin at the park and teaming up with him during quiz competition. He was always sweet and always smiley.

But the handsome young man that stands in front of you doesn't resemble the Jeongin you once used to know, not even a little bit.

"What..what happened to you!" You exclaim, taking his face in your hands, "Where are the braces! And the specs and wow, would you look at the blue hair!"

Jeongin can only let out a few giggles as you continue squishing his face and complaining how big he's grown in only over seven years.

The customers give you weird stares but only the heavens above know how genuinely happy you are to see Jeongin, albeit the fact you almost couldn't recognize him there for a second.

"What have you done to my child?" You mutter when you've finally calmed down and Jeongin takes you to your seat.

"I have a mother, y/n, thank you very much," he laughs, taking a seat opposite to yours, loosening the Barista apron around his torso, "And I missed you too."

You attempt to pinch his cheeks but he is quick to dodge.

"So how have you been?" He asks through giggly breaths.

You sigh, "I'm good... I feel weird being back here, honestly but I think I'll get used to it soon. What about you?"

"I've been good. Graduated a few months back, now I'm working here full time." He ushers over a waiter, "What would you like, y/n?"

You don't even think for a second while responding, "An iced Americano, please."

The waiter notes your order and walks away before Jeongin pinches your arm teasingly.

"Ouch. What?"

"Old habits die hard, huh? You always used to drink an iced coffee whenever we hung out here. I am glad to see nothing much has changed," Jeongin laughs, "You and Changbin, too!"

That one name sends your entire mind into a frenzy. Changbin. Seo Changbin. The love of your life. The man who you wouldn't even go to school without, the man who had saved you from a terrible accident, also the man who probably no longer even remembers you.

And you realise, despite everything, your heart yearns for him, still- for you wouldn't be in so much pain at the mention of his name otherwise.

Jeongin seems to have noticed your discomfort because he immediately changes the topic, "Anyway, you have to try our new chocolate cake. It's heavenly, I'm telling you."

Your reason to leave the neighborhood wasn't a secret, really. It was public knowledge that your mother had blamed Changbin for the fatal accident you almost had.

You're grateful for what Jeongin does, and try your best to engage in conversations about the neighborhood and old gossip you'd missed out on. Yet all you want to do is drive out of the damn Cafe and find changbin.

"Y/n?"

Or maybe, Changbin will find you.

Behind Jeongin, you see the blurry image of a man that had once caused you great misery yet you had never felt as happy as when you were with him.

"Hi..hi, Changbin." You stammer as you see the said man walk towards your table.

The seven years have as if done some magic on him, because the Changbin that walks towards you in no way resembles your high school best friend.

With thick buff arms, new ear piercings and silver jewelry gracing his wrists and fingers, you have a hard time actually accepting the fact that Seo Changbin is really there, in front of you.

"Been long, huh?" He grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and somewhere in the depths of your conscience, you realize it might have been your fault. You'd done everything in your capacity to break apart from this friendship, ignoring his calls, changing your number, even going as far as blocking him on all social media.

So, did you really expect him to welcome you back with open arms when you had caused him so much pain?

Jeongin brings an extra chair for Changbin to sit on and soon, the three of you are talking, maybe not like the old, happy days but it's still better than nothing. Changbin looks at you everytime you throw your head back and laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as his heart clenches in his chest.

You are really back home.

"So what have you been doing? I told you guys about me." Jeongin says, stealing a bite off of Changbin's cheesecake.

"Oh..you know," Changbin giggles, the tip of his ears turning a light pink shade.

You raise your eye brows in confusion.

"Been busy with the wedding and all."

Your heart drops. "Wedding? W-whose wedding?" You try to laugh it off but it's very evident from the way you're gripping your glass of iced Americano that it has affected you. A lot more than you actually thought.

"I'm getting married, y/n," Changbin smiles, "I'm so glad you could be around for the wedding."

Your grief stricken self has not gotten up from the bed since last night and you're thankful to Jeongin for finally checking up on you or else you would have gone deeper into the spiral hole of despair.

"Are you really going to be like this, y/n?"

You hate being miserable on the very second day of your stay. You hate depending on Jeongin. But you can barely move without bursting out into tears,so it seems as though there's no better idea than have someone take care of you at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Jeongin. " You manage to speak when he places a bag full of snacks and drinks on the dining table, "And thanks."

Jeongin chuckles, "Don't thank me, just yet. Guess who wants to meet up with you?"

Your eyes widen for a split second as you sit up on the couch, "Who?!"

No, he wouldn't, would he?

"It's not the person you think, y/n. Calm down." He laughs, "It's Bang Chan. Your senior, you remember?"

Oh, yes, the infamous Bang Chan. Shy smiles, dimples, curly hair, angelic eyes. Yeah, you remember the school's heartthrob. Very clearly.

"I was talking to him this morning and he said he'd be very glad to catch up with you again." Jeongin settles beside you, "It's not a date, y/n. He's an old friend. It wouldn't hurt, would it? You can't possibly sit here all day long crying about him."

You open your mouth to argue, but only air slips out and you realise you don't have anything to defend your miserable state with. You knew this was coming; when you cut off all ties with Seo Changbin, you knew this was coming.

Jeongin is right; you need to go out and meet new people.

You roll your eyes before pinching Jeongin's cheeks, "Fine. Give him my number."

He responds by pulling your cheeks as well.

The first day of work is weirdly gut wrenching.

You hadn't expected yourself to be this nervous but here you are, muttering under your breath as you make way towards the office.

"You'll be okay, y/n," you breathe in, "You've worked hard for this." And breathe out.

A few more minutes of self pep talking and you see all your hard work and expectations go down the drain as you feel a few droplets of rain fall onto your head. You look up and the dark, heavy clouds greet you.

Bloody brilliant.

You see the office goers around you jog quickly to the nearest shelter but you're short on luck today as your gaze falls on your watch and you realize you don't have enough time to wait for the rain to pass.

So you grab your office bag, cover your head with that and make a run for it.

The sole of your high heel shoes dig into your feet and a throbbing pain shoots through your body, as you wince. Note to yourself - never wear heels to office again.

You also secretly pray to the gods that your contact lens don't get washed off. Turning up at your new office on the first day with a blood red iris doesn't feel too fun, really.

"Do you need a lift?"

You had been so busy running to your office that you don't notice when a black car drives toward you and the driver rolls down the window, offering you a smile.

Seo Changbin.

Your heart skips a few beats.

"Y/n, do you need a lift?"

You blink back to reality when he clicks his fingers in front of you, "I-I mean if that's okay with you."

Changbin smiles, pointing to the passenger's seat, "Come on in."

When you're comfortably seated in his car, using his spare towel to wipe off the water from your face and hair, his questions start-

"So.." He steps on the break when the traffic light turns red, "How have you been?"

You look at the digital clock displayed on the cars' LED, and sigh. You're late to work and you're stuck in traffic with the one man you'd rather not be stuck in traffic with. Brilliant.

"Good." Your eyes are focused on the cars outside the window, "You?"

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again, "Fine."

Fine? Just Fine? Shouldn't he be over the clouds, now that the wedding is finally around the corner?

"Okay.."

"Actually, I meant to ask you earlier, y/n." He turns to you, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "I am throwing a party this weekend. I'd love it if you could come by. And I could introduce you to her."

You sink back into your seat, biting your lip, wondering if you want to ever know who her is. Your peace of mind is more important than meeting your ex crush's fiance, right? And if you do end up going to the party, whom would you hang out with? It's not like you know any of his rich friends and cousins and there's no way you'd hang out with Changbin and the said fiance.

You are about to respectfully reject the invitation when a sudden, seemingly good idea pops into your head.

Bang Chan.

You nod, shrugging, "Okay. I'll be there."

You clasp your hands together as he continues driving and you look out the window, unable to suppress the bubbling excitement.

"Great, then." He replies, suspiciously.

The evening of the party finally arrives, much to your dismay, you find yourself seated next to Chan. He's just the same as the guy in your memory; a gentleman.

"You look pretty, y/n." He had greeted you as he held the car door open for you, "I'm glad we could meet up."

His words turn your cheeks into a darker shade of red but your heart doesn't beat quite as furiously as you'd expect it to.

Muttering a small thank you, you seat comfortably in the car while Chan drives towards Changbin's family's old Farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. You've been there before - during summer holidays, he would take you there with his family. That place was only filled with happy memories of sunshine, swimming pools, watermelon juice and bonfires.

You swallow the grief that comes along with these memories.

"Are we here already?" Chan pulls over in a familiar driveway not even ten minutes later, jogging up to your door and clicking it open, like the gentleman he is.

"Yeah, we're here." Chan smiles, "Very less traffic tonight."

You guys walk through the huge metallic gate, making your way through the main door of the house.

"Uh..." People are crowded mostly around the front door and in the front yard, so you and Chan have to push and squeeze your way into the Farmhouse. You hate the feeling of sweaty bodies pressing against you (or holding Chan's hand for stability) but desperate situations call for desperate measures.

"I hate it here." You mutter when you later find yourself by the pool side, swirling the drink that you don't even plan on drinking and looking at all the flushed faces having the time of their lives.

Thankfully, Chan happens to be on the same boat as you.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, Chan. We could have just gone for a movie."

Chan giggles, "Hey, it's alright. I don't mind, I'm glad I could spend some time with you after so many years."

His eyes shine and dimples deepen.

You whisper, "Yeah, me too."

Chan is a handsome man, good at all kinds of sport, good at arts, very smart and intelligent yet there's a part of you that knows you'd never be able to reciprocate his flirtatious words. It's sad, really, but that's just how life is.

"Wow, those two seem to be having the time of their lives." Chan chuckles, pointing at someone behind you.

It's quite dark outside, the only source of light being a few decorative fairylights hung at random places haphazardly.

Hiding behind a huge, tall bush, you see a couple, kissing each other like it were the last day on the planet.

The guy's hands roam all over the woman's body and the woman is so loud that even you could hear her sighs and moans. When she pulls away to catch her breath for a second, Chan asks you, "You know her?"

"Nope. I don't know either of them."

You look away; what kind of creep looks at a happy couple like that? (Not a creep, just a lonely and touch starved person)

"Should we check out the dinner table?" Chan suggests and you agree with a nod, "I hope there's no crowd there."

As expected, there actually isn't a crowd there - there's only Changbin, sitting and nibbling on a pizza slice while scrolling through the phone.

The moment your eyes land on him, your feet as if stop on their own and your heart bangs furiously against your chest.

He's breathtakingly gorgeous.

By the time you debate in your head whether or not you want to sit there and fill your stomach, Chan has already made his way to Changbin.

"Hey, Bin!" He greets him with a smile.

Changbin looks at Chan with an unamused smile, the same one from your high school days, when these two were named the biggest rivals on campus. You wonder if somewhere deep in his heart, Changbin had still not let go of that rivalry.

"Hey, Changbin." You manage to whisper before sitting beside Chan.

He looks almost angry.

"You should have the pizza. It's good." He mutters, turning to pass you a slice of pizza on a plate, "Help yourself, Chan."

Yup, there it is. The Seo Changbin that would kill to be on top. You feel worse about dragging Chan here now when neither of you were having a good time.

"Thanks, mate. " Chan replies.

Your ears ring with the sound of approaching footsteps, and when a pretty girl comes walking in and takes Changbin in her arms, your heart stings. Like a fresh wound.

"Y/n.." Chan whispers to you as you watch the two collide in a loving embrace, Changbin smiling at her and running his fingers through her hair.

Your heart hurts at how happy and content he looks.

You could have had that, a part of you thinks, if you weren't such a coward, it would have been you instead of her.

"Y/n," Chan calls you again.

"What?" Your tone is harsher than you intended, "What happened?"

You think Chan is about to give you the whole it-is-time-to-move-on talk but he doesn't, instead he points at the girl and whispers,

"It's her. The girl we saw earlier."

The rest of the night is blurry to you, all conversations, all gazes, all thoughts just feel ....like an awkward dream.

"We have to tell Changbin."

You're sitting at Yang's Cafe at 1 am the same night, watching Jeongin's brother guide his staff to clean the place up.

"I agree." Chan says, biting the inside of his cheeks.

While you, on the other hand, are completely zoned out, staring at the glass of water placed in front of you and watching the droplets on its surface race each other.

"Y/n, what do you think?" Jeongin asks when you don't take part in their discussions.

You sigh, "I don't know. I really don't. As much as it troubles me that Changbin is being cheated on, I don't want to get involved in their personal relationship. "

"Let's not tell anyone for now, then. But someday in the future, before that goddamn wedding, we have to tell him. He deserves to know." Chan agrees.

You purse your lips and close your eyes.

Chan is right.

Changbin deserves to know the truth.

"So, how's it being back in town, y/n?"

"It feels good. Weird, but good." You smile at your old teacher, "How have you been, Miss Oh?"

Your teacher adds sugar to the cup of tea in her hands and then looks at you, smiling - the same old smile, except with more wrinkles now, "I've been good. I'm retiring next year so I'm glad I could see you before that, huh?"

You nod your head, "I'm glad too. The school hasn't changed much, unlike what I had expected."

Other than the addition of some new labs and libraries, and the change in color of the walls, everything was still the same. No place in this old school building feels foreign to you.

"Ugh, these administration people I tell you, y/n, they're cheap idiots. They won't spend a single penny on infrastructure unless it's absolutely necessary." She complains as you giggle in response,

"They've always been like that."

Miss Oh gulps some tea from her cup, "Anyway, y/n, I have a class now. I would have loved to stay and chat, really, but I'm afraid that might get me in to trouble."

"No issues, Miss Oh. Go ahead. I'll just roam around the school a little more though, if that's okay."

After Miss Oh leaves, you step out of her cabin and walk the familiar corridors, reminiscent of the memories you have here. Studying a few minutes before tests, bunking classes, running to class when you're late, hanging out with your friends- these corridors have seen you grow in love, in friendship, in life. There's absolutely nothing that could ever replace these memories.

Mindlessly, you wander around the third floor, walking toward the end of the corridor before stopping in front of an old door, way too familiar to not try and push open.

While a part of you tells you it might not be a good idea to go into that room again, there's also a part of you that thinks it's a bloody brilliant idea.

Pushing the door open, you walk into the old dusty room, sighing in relief when you see a particular set of letters still carved on the wall.

CB and YN were here.

You finally let your tears run free, as you crouch down to touch the letters.

Your heart aches at how much you miss Changbin being an important part of your life and how much you miss being his top priority. And your heart aches for Changbin, who is so in love with his fiancé and has no idea he's being cheated on.

You almost want to leave this town and go back to your mother, away from this terrible mess. Yet you don't find it in yourself to act on those thoughts.

Maybe, it is your fear of abandoning him once again that stops you. Or, maybe it is simply the unconditional love you harbor for him.

* Surprisingly, Yang's Cafe is near empty that afternoon.

"Did something happen, y/n? You look really worried." Changbin has his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a tense frown.

"Um..it's kind of complicated." You sigh. For a second, you see the genuine concern and innocence on his face, and you wonder if it is worth telling him the truth at all because it would kill you to see him lose his smile but then, his engagement band shines on his ring finger and your stomach turns unpleasantly.

He has to know. From you. In person.

"Changbin, that day at your party...I saw something. " You whisper, "Something I shouldn't have. I should have turned a blind eye really but I can't. My conscience won't allow it. I'm sorry, Bin."

"Y/n, it's okay, just tell me," he reaches over and wraps his fingers around yours, soft and gentle, "You're scaring me."

"Changbin, your fiance is cheating on you. I-I saw her kissing another man that night. Chan saw it too." You feel sick even having to say this to him, "I think you should confront her."

He sucks in a deep breathe, his face completely void of any emotions as he extracts his hands from yours.

"I know." Is all he says.

His eyes drill into yours, as if accusing you of a crime. He looks angry. Just how he looked the day you brought Chan to his party.

"Why are you still marrying her then?" You question.

He sits up straight, "Y/n, I wish I could explain. But I can't. I'm sorry. And please, stay out of this, okay?"

"Why? Why should I stay out of it?" Your voice threatens to break, "I cannot watch my best friend marry a woman who's not loyal. You deserve better than this, Bin."

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Changbin's lips as he taps his foot against the floor, "Let me correct you, y/n. You were my best friend. Seven years ago. You're not anymore."

Your heart shatters.

A part of you knows you deserve this after ghosting him for seven long years. You were the center of each other's world at one point of time.How could you have been so selfish to ever think that your absence and lack of communication wouldn't hurt him?

"Changbin, I'm sorry for everything I did okay. B-but I never stopped thinking or worrying about you. Even for one second. And I still do."

Changbin pushes his chair back and stands up while you stay frozen in your seat.

"It doesn't seem like that though. "

"What do you even mean!"

"Chan. I mean Chan, y/n." He grabs his phone and purse, "Goodbye, y/n. I hope Chan turns out to be a better friend than I ever did." With that, the love of your life walks out of Yang's Cafe.

And for once, he doesn't even look back.

* "Y/n, don't let go of my hand!"

Changbin is panting heavily, his voice shaking with fear as he desperately tries to hold onto you.

He should have known it would be a bad idea to play badminton near the infamous cliff in your town yet when you had showed him your innocent smile and pleading eyes that day, he just couldn't say no.

Your sweaty hands clutch his, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Your free hand grabs the rough surface of the rocky cliff to keep yourself from falling.

You want to cry; but you're too traumatized to even let out more than a few terrified grunts. "Y/n," he yells, "I'm going to try and pull you up one more time, okay?."

You don't even remember how you had ended up in this situation; one second you were happily giggling, playing badminton with Changbin and in the next second, you found yourself hanging by the cliff, praying for your dear life.

With all the energy he has left, he tries to pull you up onto the surface.

"Y/n, you have to free the other hand. Let go of that rock." He pants.

You shake your head vigorously, you know you would not survive if you let go of the rock, you'd fall thousands of feet below into absolute nothingness.

"Y/n, please listen to me." Changbin pleads, now crying, "Please. I'll catch you, I promise. I'll not let you die. Just..please."

Changbin sounds like he's about to give up and in all honesty, you couldn't blame him really. Everytime your eyes fall on what's beneath you, a part of you loses hope.

"Please, come on, y/n," he's still pulling at your free hand, while his right hand awaits desperately to grab the other hand. A mixture or sweat and tears grace his face, making him shine under the bright afternoon sun. Your heart aches at the mere thought of never seeing him again- your friend, your childhood crush, your partner in everything.

Well, here goes nothing then.

You suck in a deep breath and let go the Rock, immediately reaching for Changbin. He is quick to grab both of your arms and in one swift movement, he pulls you up onto the surface.

You fall onto his chest, "Y-you saved me."

Changbin let's out a sob mixed with a relieved giggle, pulling you into his arms.

Your eyes feel heavy, as darkness slowly begins to engulf your vision.

"Oh God, I am so sorry this happened, y/n. It's all my fault." He cries, rubbing your back softly, "I'm so sorry. I thought I was going to lose you, oh God. Fuck!"

You want to tell him that it was never his fault, and that you wouldn't even be alive if not for him but your body betrays you and your body goes limp against his.

"I'm not leaving this neighborhood."

Your hands rest angrily on your waist as your mom frantically walks from your closet to where the suitcase is spread open on your bed, shifting all your clothes. She dumps them inside the suitcase, not bothering to fold them even.

"You will do as I say! That Seo Changbin tried to push you off of a cliff and heaven knows what he might do next!" Your mom yells back.

You sit at the edge of your bed, trying to keep yourself calm, "Mom, I told you it was an accident. I fell because I was going after the shuttlecock and didn't notice the cliff. Moreover, why would my best friend want try to kill me!"

Your mom let's out a sarcastic laugh, closing the suitcase roughly. She looks at you with eyes full of contempt and a part of you knows that there's no point in trying to convince her. Her mind is already made. Yet you refuse to go down without a fight.

"You're just sixteen, sweetie. You don't know anything about the cruel world, " your mother sighs, "Rich people are not friends with anyone. Changbin may be nice to you but he only sees you as a pathetic poor girl."

"Mom, we're not even poor!"

"Yes, I know. But those filthy rich businessmen consider everyone below their economic status poor. His family probably doesn't like him being friends with you which is why they asked him to get rid of you."

You think of Mrs. Seo's face in your head, always smiling and always welcoming. You remember Changbin's sister and how she'd promised to let you borrow her dress for this year's winter prom. And you think about Changbin- his face, his smile, his passion for music and his protectiveness towards you. Why would these people ever want to hurt you?

"Mom, you're being ridiculous right now! Do you even hear yourself!" You stand up from the bed, now beyond frustrated.

She walks upto you and grabs your arm tightly, nails digging into your skin as you whimper slightly. "You will listen to me. I am your mother and you will listen to me. " she growls, "Pack the rest of your stuff. We're leaving tomorrow."

When she finally walks out your bedroom, your first instinct is to dress yourself in your black hoodie and track pants, and quietly slip out of the back window of your room.

The cold air nips at your skin, goosebumps slowly appearing on your arms and legs but you're too preoccupied to pay too much heed to it.

You reach Changbin's house and like always, walk up to the backyard and climb upto his room through the emergency staircase.

When Changbin hears knocks on his window, he quickly removes his headphones, "y/n?"

He walks upto the window and let's you in, his heart more at peace now than it's ever been the entire day. The guilt from the accident you had earlier was clawing at his conscience.

His room is mostly dark except for his table lamp. You notice the lyrics notebook lying on the table, open with some scribbles and random phrases on the pages.

"How are you feeling?"

You sit at the edge of his bed, cross legged while he kneels on the floor to get to your level. His hands find yours naturally.

"Fine," you swallow the tears that have been accumulating since you left the house, "Changbin, I- we're leaving tomorrow."

Changbin is taken aback; his heart shattering into billions of pieces at your words.

"Leaving? What do you mean Leaving?" his voice trembles.

You lick your dry lips and tell him everything your mom had told you earlier. When his face twists bitterly, a part of you wishes you'd held your tongue yet a bigger part of you wants Changbin to know the truth now; you didn't want him sending you off with lies in his mind and the fear of him finding out some years later just killed you inside.

"I'm so sorry, Changbin. Mom's just not been okay after the divorce." Your voice breaks when Changbin refuses to look at you, "I know she's speaking bullshit. But there's absolutely nothing I can do to change her mind, I've tried I swear. I'm sorry, Changbin."

When Changbin finally does look at you, even in the dim lit room, you see the tears glistening on his face, mirroring the ones that roll down your cheeks. "Why are you sorry, y/n? I don't blame your mom." He mutters, "It was partly my fault. I should have taken more care, I-"

You cup his cheek, "Shh. Bin, are we really going to spend my last night here crying and blaming ourselves? We might never see each other again."

The words sink deep into his soul, and he nods. He wills his tears back in as he grabs your hand tighter.

"Okay. What do you wanna do?"

You smile a little, "You're not gonna like it though. "

"Stargazing it is then." He giggles a little as the both of you make your way to balcony attached to his room.

It is quiet outside, unlike the noise in your head and you feel the calmness spreading to you when you look up at the stars.

Changbin brings a picnic mat from inside and spreads it out on the floor, along with two pillows and a blanket.

"We'll stay in touch, yeah? If you ever need anything, I'll be right here." He reassures you, lying beside you, hands behind his head.

You smile yet you cannot bring yourself to promise him the same because you know your mother would do everything in her power to push the two of you apart, even to the point of physically hurting Changbin. You would never want that so you'd rather distance yourself and let Changbin forget about you. And maybe, just maybe fate would be a little nicer to you and decide to bring you into his life again. Many years later.

He presses a soft kiss to your head, "You'll always be my best friend, y/n. I don't care how far we are."

It takes everything in your being to not repeat the words.

"Changbin, come on we're getting you to the hospital this instant, okay?" Mrs. Seo is furious next morning, running from room to room, looking through the list of doctors she'd saved just in case of emergency.

When she looks at her son, sitting on the sofa with one of his eye irises turning a glowing red, she is reassured that this is an emergency.

"How did this even happen, mom? I swear I didn't try to do anything funny with my eye." He murmurs, scared, "It feels so itchy, gosh!"

Mrs.Seo looks at him with concern just when the doctor picks the call, "Oh, hello Dr.Lee! Thank god you picked up!"

After his mom walks out of his room, Changbin quickly types you a text,

Binnie: Hey. Did you leave already?

Y/nnie: No not yet. We've stopped at the doctor's.

Changbin's eyes widen in alarm.

Binnie: What why?

You look at your face in the decorative mirror at the doctor's waiting room, one of your irises burning into a bright shade of ruby.

Y/nnie: Mom's running a cold.

You close the messenger app before he even replies, deciding to change your number and deleting all your old contacts as soon as you move into your new house. And as much as it hurt you, this one text turned out to be the last time Changbin and you ever talked.

It has been raining all day, which means you were stuck in your goddamn house with nothing to do but cry about Changbin and your lost friendship and your broken heart.

After you manage to get some food into your body during dinner time, you crawl back to your room and look into the mirror as you comb your hair and moisturize your skin.

(Self care is important, y'all)

Your red iris stares back at you, taunting your mistakes and calling you a coward.

If only you had still tried to keep in touch with him, if only that stupid accident wouldn't have happened in the first place, if only.

Suddenly, a knock on your balcony door makes you jump in your place.

Shit. Is it a burglar?

You grab the closest thing that could be classified as a weapon - which happens to be an umbrella.

The knocking continues.

"Y/n, it's Changbin." He yells, "Can I please talk to you?"

You freeze in your spot.

Why in the world is he here? Does he have anything worse to say? Is he here to invite you to his wedding? But why would he sneak in through the balcony when he can easily ring the main door bell.

"Y/n, are you in there?"

You quickly walk upto the door and slide it open, revealing Changbin, completely drenched in the rain. His wet hair stuck to his face and "Shit. What the- God, come inside!"

He obeys and tiptoes inside your room, a guilty expression plastered on his face.

You guide him directly to the bathroom and offer him a towel.

"What are you even doing here, Bin?" You lean against the door frame, hands crossed over your chest.

He is drying his hair with the towel when he looks up at you as if to answer your question but he stops. His mouth hangs open as his eyes remain glued to your face.

And that's when you realize why he looks so surprised.

"Shit- fuck." You turn around immediately, "my lenses," you mutter to yourself.

But before you can even walk upto your dressing table, Changbin has caught your wrist and spun you around, pulling you closer to his body.

"Your eye." He let's out a shaky breath.

"Yes, I know. Please don't freak out. It's always been like this after -"

"After the accident." He finishes your sentence, "I know."

Your mouth runs dry as his face draws in closer, "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

He let's go of your wrist and takes a step back, turning around so that his back faces you.

And when he turns to look at you again, you swear you could have passed out there and then.

"Y-you have it too." You whisper, weak in the knees, "You have a red iris too."

Changbin gives you a small smile, "Yes, y/n."

"But why? What does this mean?" You say, "Is it a symptom of some chronic illness?"

"It's a soul mark."

"What's a soul mark?"

"It's a mark that exists on the bodies of soulmates."

You feel a pang in your chest; like someone was squeezing your heart out of your chest.

"Right," You fall back onto the bed, dazed with the sudden piece of information, "And how do you know all this?"

Changbin kneels down in front of you, hands finding yours. He looks more relaxed than he did since the first day you come back to town.

It almost feels like you had been given back your old friend.

"I've been doing my research, y/n. After you left, this is all I've been doing." He says, "This is also the reason why I had gotten engaged. By that time, I had given up on finding a soulmate. So I just settled for whatever I got. I didn't even feel bad when I found out my fiance was not in love with me. For the world, we might look like a happy couple, but truly, it was just a marriage of convenience for our parents' business."

You bite your lips wondering how to respond to these words. He'd laid bare his heart in front of you, something you never thought he'd do ever again.

"What now?" You say, tired.

He intertwines your fingers, "Also, I'm sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have said all that."

You nod, "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it. And for the record, I and Chan have nothing going on."

"And for the record, I also broke off my engagement."

Your eyes widen as a gasp leaves your lips, "What? Why?"

"Because when I told my parents that I do not love my fiancé, and that I have only ever loved you, they said my happiness was more important than their business."

When you don't reply to his words, he looks worried, "Hey, you don't have to feel burdened to like me back and all okay? Literally, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I understand-"

You pull him by the nape and place the softest, gentlest, most sincere kiss on his lips.

"I feel the same way, dumbass." You sigh as you pull him into your arms.

He muzzles his face in the crook of your neck, playing with your hair from behind, "So what now?"

"Let's start with a date." You say, "Let's take it slow."

Changbin wraps his arms tighter around you, kissing your cheek, "As you wish, my love. "

260 notes · View notes

messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 02

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7k [2/6]

notes: looks like it’s a writing/editing kinda day, folks! hope you enjoy this installment, and let me know what you think!

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, jeon jungkook is a goddamn tease, smuuuut, oral (f receiving), jk’s got a big dick whoOPS, minimally edited bc i’m feeling lazy

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Morning brings with it bright sunshine and fresh horror as the events of the previous evening come rushing back. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to look Jeon Jungkook in the eye again—or at least, not without being reminded of the way he’d plagued every single one of your dreams with devilish eyes and even more devilish fingers. Groaning, you scrub at your temples, as if that will help dispel the memories. After a few fruitless moments, you crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom, intent on washing everything away with a good, cold shower.

Try as you might, though, you simply cannot avoid your dark-haired neighbor. You’re in the kitchen sipping at your second coffee of the day and debating what you want for lunch when there’s a knock on the front door—a familiar rhythm that has your heart stuttering. “It’s open!” Jimin yells from the living room, and a moment later, the devil himself strolls in, wearing a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans and well-worn Timberlands. Vaguely, you wonder when he made the switch from white tees to black, but your musings are cut short when he spots you in the kitchen, an impish grin settling across his face.

“Hey, Noona.”

“Hey.” You thank whatever god may be out there that your voice is steady. “Jimin’s in the living room.”

Jungkook tilts his head coyly and takes a step forward. “What makes you think I’m here for Jimin? Maybe I came to see you.”

Anxiously, you swallow down the memories of his warm hands that are trying to resurface. “I highly doubt that.”

“Really?” Jungkook takes another step forward and plucks the coffee mug from your hands. “What if I came over to finish what I started last night?”

Heat floods across your face. “That—that was… I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. “Want me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, Noona.” Quietly, he closes the last bit of distance between you, and when he speaks again you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “You see, I think you want me. Just as much as I want you. Am I wrong?”

“Jungkook, we—”

“Dude, what’s taking you so long?” Jimin’s head suddenly pops around the doorway, and you nearly jump out of your skin in your effort to put some distance between you and your dark-haired neighbor. “I’m about to start the game without you.”

“Just wanted to grab some coffee and say hi to {Name},” Jungkook replies, raising your half-empty mug to his lips and taking a sip. “Did you want to join us, Noona? It’d be fun to watch you kick Jimin’s ass at Mario Kart again.”

You swallow, hard. “I can’t. I’ve got homework to do.” Not strictly true, perhaps, but you’d been planning on looking over the details of your internship again at some point, and now seems as good a time as any. “Sorry,” you add quickly, seeing Jungkook’s disbelieving expression.

“Summer homework? Gross.” Jimin pulls a face. “You’re still coming to Tae’s party though, right?”

You nod, unwillingly catching Jungkook’s eye again. He’s still sipping at your coffee, and you don’t miss the flagrant wink he shoots you over the rim of the cup. “See you later then, Noona,” he says, his voice practically a purr.

“Right,” you respond dully, your heart skipping a beat at the dark promise in his stare. “Later.”

Jimin and Jungkook disappear down the hall, but you remain rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, listening as the music of whatever video game they’ve decided on starts playing from the living room. Heaving a sigh, you fetch a new mug from the cupboard and pour yourself some more coffee, grabbing an apple and a bag of chips as well. Taking everything up to your bedroom, you pull out your laptop and make yourself comfortable on your bed, plugging in some headphones to drown out the noise from downstairs. With any luck, you won’t have to see Jungkook again until you have to leave for Taehyung’s party, and you’re pretty sure that it’ll be easy to avoid him once you’re there.

In fact, you’re certain of it.

So with that thought in mind, you settle down with your coffee and open up Netflix, sinking into the pillows and pushing your dark-haired neighbor into the deepest recesses of your mind. It isn’t until your phone starts vibrating insistently against your thigh that you are startled out of your binge-watching, the screen lit up with two new notifications. Surprised, you realize that hours have passed, the sky outside your window deepening into the hazy blue of nighttime.

[6:02pm] Jungkook: you hungry, noona?

[6:02pm] Jungkook: for pizza, i mean. we ordered dinner

[6:03pm] Jungkook: but i’ll be your dessert if you want me ;)

You drop your phone as if burned, his final message playing over and over in your mind. It takes you a full minute to gather your wits again, stowing your device in your pocket without responding and carefully picking your way downstairs. Already, you can smell the cheesy grease, your stomach growling in anticipation.

Just grab the pizza and go, you think to yourself, formulating your escape plan and double-checking it for any holes. Dine and dash.

You’re walking past the foyer when there’s suddenly a knock on the front door. Curiously, you answer it, swinging it open to see a familiar grinning face standing on the doorstep. Lee Taemin is a good friend of Jimin’s, and your brother pokes his head out from the kitchen at the sound of your greeting, clearly expecting the new guest.

“Taemin! Get in here and have some pizza,” Jimin says, his mouth full. “You too, Noona. We got plenty.”

Instead of immediately heading for the food, Taemin wraps you in a hug that has you wheezing for air. “Long time no see, huh? How’ve you been?”

You squirm in his tight embrace, raised to your tiptoes. “Put me down, you heathen. I’m fine right now, but I won’t be if you suffocate me.”

Taemin chortles good-naturedly and releases his grip, ruffling your hair. “Good to see you too, {Name}. Honestly, it hasn’t been the same around here without you. How long are you back for? The whole summer?”

You shake your head. “Just a couple weeks. I’ve got to get back for an internship.”

“Already a hotshot, huh?” Taemin grins. “What are you going to be doing?”

The topic of your summer job is a welcome distraction from the way Jungkook’s dark gaze trails after you as you tread into the kitchen alongside Taemin, slapping two slices of pizza onto a plate and glancing around for a napkin. You can feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull, prickling your skin with electricity, but continue your conversation with Taemin as if nothing is amiss.

“You gonna sit down or what?” Taemin gives you a quizzical glance as he pulls a chair out from the table, joining Jimin and Jungkook who are already seated. You do your best to ignore the way Jungkook’s jaw flexes with every chew, somehow managing to look infuriatingly handsome despite the mouth full of dough and pizza grease staining his chin.

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for the excuse you had planned. “—I still have some work to do. Reading and whatnot.”

“Nerd,” Jimin snorts.

Taemin shrugs. “Okay, then. Suit yourself, I guess.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. But you feel his eyes burning into your skin as you head back upstairs, and it isn’t until you are safely back in your bedroom, sagging against the closed door, that you can finally breathe properly again.

///

You end up departing for the party nearly twenty minutes after the official start time of eight o’clock, caving to Jimin’s insistence on being fashionably late. Personally, you think he just wanted the extra time to work on his hair—making sure every strand is perfectly, effortlessly tousled—and call him out on it as he locks the front door behind you.

“I didn’t spend that long on my hair,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Besides, you’re the one who needed to run back in and get your wallet. What do you even need your wallet for? We’re walking like, four blocks.”

“Better safe than sorry,” you retort. “What if I get murdered and they need to identify my body? What if I get mugged? You never know!”

Taemin falls into step beside you. “What if we need to tip a stripper?” he chimes in.

You nod and raise your hand for a high-five without taking your eyes off your brother. “Exactly! You have to tip your sex workers, Chim!”

Jimin waggles a suggestive eyebrow. “I think I’d rather give them a different ti—”

You push him off the sidewalk before he can finish speaking, pulling a face as he stumbles into the street in a fit of laughter. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you perv!”

The remainder of the short walk to Taehyung’s house passes uneventfully. Jimin doesn’t bother knocking, throwing open the door like he owns the place, and you trail after him with Taemin and Jungkook on your heels. Immediately, you’re assailed by a cacophonous sea of conversation and thumping music, people milling around in the dimly lit interior.

“There you are!” The voice comes from your left, and you barely have time to register the speaker’s face before she’s gasping and engulfing you in a hug. “{Name}, you made it! Hi!”

You laugh, squeezing her back. “Hi, Chaeyoung. It’s good to see you. Sorry I didn’t catch you at graduation.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving you off. “We have all the time in the world to catch up now. Let’s get you away from these boys and find you a drink, shall we?” Flipping a lock of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, she loops her arm through yours and begins steering you toward the kitchen. “So what are you in the mood for? The beer’s shit, so I’d stay away from anything in the cooler, but everything else is actually drinkable.”

“Shocking,” you remark, peering at the mess of bottles and cups lining the kitchen counter. There’s a massive bowl of a horrifyingly neon green concoction as well, and you take one whiff before backing away again, nose wrinkling in disgust. “I see Tae’s still making punch.”

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Chaeyoung advises. “He’s somehow managed to make it twice as sugary and three times more alcoholic than last year’s. Pretty sure it’s worse than moonshine at this point.”

You grin and locate an empty cup, raising it in her direction. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Chaeyoung refills her own drink, and you settle on a simple blend of cranberry juice and vodka. Together, you head back in the direction of the living room, where Jisoo and Lisa are chattering away on a couch in the corner. They look up at your arrival, greeting you with smiles and hugs, and quickly usher you into a seat beside them.

“So,” Jisoo begins, leaning forward. “How’s college?”

“Tell us everything,” Lisa adds, propping her chin in her palm. “Is it nice living away from home?”

Jisoo waggles her brows. “Forget that. Have you met any guys?”

Unbidden, Jungkook springs to the forefront of your mind, dark eyes staring at you from beneath equally dark hair as he leans down, down, down—

“Nope!” you blurt before your thoughts can progress any further. “I mean, I share a suite with a couple guys, but that doesn’t count.”

“Are they cute?” Lisa prods.

“They must be more mature than these high school boys,” Chaeyoung sighs.

“Hardly,” you snort. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

The gossip continues. More people arrive as the night wears on, the living room filling up with dancing bodies. A few girls you don’t know join in your conversation, perching on armrests and ottomans and the carpeted floor as a last resort. Across the hall in the dining room, you spot Taemin setting up a table for beer pong, a triumphant shout going up when Taehyung procures an unopened package of balls from somewhere in the hall closet.

“This is gonna be tournament style, got it?” he announces as he tears the package open. “Winner goes up against the undefeated champs—Jungkook and Yugyeom!”

Even from your comfy seat on the couch, you can see the arrogant twist of Jungkook’s mouth as he leans over to give Yugyeom a high-five. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way he tongues his cheek, lounging back into a chair to watch the first round of the game. Jimin steps forward alongside Taehyung, and you watch as your brother scrutinizes the pyramid of cups, poised to make a throw that lifts his shirt just enough to expose a flash of his admittedly toned abdomen.

“He wore that shirt on purpose,” Jisoo accuses, and you huff out a sound that’s more snort than laugh.

“Please, it’s just the only shirt he owns that isn’t dirty. Trust me.”

“I don’t even care,” another girl you don’t know the name of pipes up. “I’d still let him blow my back out.”

You grimace. “And on that note, I suddenly need another drink,” you announce, to giggles. Wrenching out of your cozy seat between Jisoo and Lisa, you wave your near empty cup in farewell and make your way toward the kitchen, carefully skirting around the dancers and beer pong spectators spilling out into the hallway.

The kitchen is deserted when you walk in, everyone having flocked to the dining room to watch the beer pong tournament. Humming along to the music, you open up the fridge and survey its contents, hoping to find something decent. Curiously, you pick your way past a few cans before turning a dark glass bottle around to read the label.

“Are you avoiding me, Noona?”

The voice comes from behind you, deep and sinfully resonant, and you don’t even have to turn around to know that he’s standing just inches away. His breath ruffles through the hair at the nape of your neck, sending gooseflesh prickling across your skin, and when strong hands curl gently around your hips you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I missed you, y’know,” he continues, his mouth finding its way to your ear and nipping lightly at the lobe. “You didn’t talk to me all day, even though I was right there in your house. Ran like a scared little rabbit when you saw me in the kitchen, didn’t you?” Softly, his lips ghost along the column of your throat, pressing a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. “So, now what? Are you gonna run from me again?”

You don’t think you could if you tried. Your feet are rooted firmly in place, your entire body frozen as you await whatever he’ll do next. And when he urges you to spin around and face him, you obey immediately, your hands coming up to splay against his chest as he presses even closer and rewards your compliance with a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you breathe against his parted lips. “Jungkook, god.”

Slowly, he trails down your neck, leaving soft nips in his wake. “Yes, Noona?”

“We can’t,” you whisper, even as your head falls back to allow him more access to your clavicle. “Jungkook, we can’t do this.”

Your companion raises his head then, his dark gaze meeting yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. His thumbs dip beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles into the soft skin of your waist, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. “If that’s what you want, Noona, just tell me to stop and I will. I promise.”

He’s palming along your hips now. The warmth of his palms seeps into your body, rendering it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His mouth returns to your neck as he awaits your answer, and you don’t miss the way his lips curl into a smirk against the delicate skin of your collarbone when you hesitate a moment too long.

“Well, Noona?”

Fuck it. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe, throwing all remaining remnants of caution to the wind.

Jungkook straightens up to his full height, his smirk widening. “Anything for you, princess,” he remarks before leaning down, winding one hand in your hair and finding purchase in the curve of your waist with the other. The newfound pet name ignites a tendril of heat in the pit of your belly, and when Jungkook finally closes the gap between your lips, you release a breathy moan that he eagerly swallows. The hand in your hair tightens its grip to pull you even closer, tongues and teeth clashing as he deepens the kiss.

It’s only when the need for air becomes critical that you break away from him with a gasp, your lungs aching. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his chest heaving beneath the thin white material of his t-shirt. He releases his grip on your hair, his thumb grazing across your cheek gently instead, and when he leans in to plant another kiss on your mouth, you exhale shakily. “God, Jungkook.”

His arm tightens around your waist. “What do you need, princess?” he asks, and you can’t deny your delight at his continued use of the nickname. His teeth find the lobe of your ear again, and you release a breathy moan as he delivers a particularly sharp nip to the soft flesh before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below it. “Tell me. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You slide your hands along his broad shoulders and up to his nape, brushing the silver hoops in his ears before tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “You’re teasing me.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and pulls away, your arms falling uselessly to your sides as he takes a step back. “I just need to hear you say it, Noona,” he chides, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. “I need to hear you say that you want this. That you want me.”

A shiver dances up your spine, and you aren’t sure whether it’s due to his wicked lilt or the sudden absence of his body heat. “I want you,” you whisper, reaching out to touch him. “Jungkook, please.”

The smirk that spreads across his face is absolutely devastating. “Then come with me,” he commands softly, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. You leave behind the thumping music and the loud chatter of the party, allowing Jungkook to pull you into one of several rooms lining the hallway and squeaking when he shuts the door and immediately pins you against it. His mouth slants across yours, hot and urgent, and you moan into the kiss as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to whisper the words against your lips. “Fuck, princess, look at this tiny little skirt you’re wearing. You’ve been killing me all night, you know that?”

He punctuates the words with another kiss, nipping harshly at your bottom lip. His hands slide down to the curve of your ass, and you gasp when he scoops you up effortlessly. “Legs around my waist,” he orders, readjusting his grip as he begins walking you further into the room.

It’s the laundry room, you realize upon closer inspection. Jungkook’s busy mouthing at your neck, but he breaks away with a smirk when he finally reaches his destination, plopping you down atop the cool metal of the washing machine. “Shame there’s nothing in here,” he remarks, kicking the side softly. “I really wanna fuck you with this thing running one day. But for now…” His smirk widens, his hands settling on your knees. “This’ll do.”

In an instant, he’s pushed up your skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He drops to his knees, smoothing his hands along your inner thighs, and your cheeks flush when he urges you to spread them further. “Jungkook—“ you mumble, thoroughly embarrassed as he stares reverently at your exposed core, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Quit staring at me like that.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft trail of kisses along your thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Noona.”

“You…”

You trail off, unsure of what to say. What do you say when your little brother’s best friend is staring at you like you’re a desert oasis and he’s been wandering, dehydrated, for days? What do you say when the scrawny neighbor kid you’d grown up with is caressing every inch of your legs, soothing the soft skin with his fingers and lips?

What do you say when you realize, once and for all, that Jeon Jungkook is undoubtedly—unabashedly—a man now?

You swallow, hard. Jungkook is nearing your core now, his hair tickling your thighs, and you gasp when he slides a finger up your slit experimentally. “You’re so wet,” he breathes. “So wet, and so—” He touches the pad of his finger to his tongue, grinning up at you as he laps up your essence. “—delicious. Fuck. You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

And then he leans forward, boldly licking a stripe up the length of your entrance. Strong arms wind around your legs to hold you open, and when he shoves his face even deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, you let out a strangled whimper. “Fuck, Jungkook—”

The sound of his name draws a pleased hum from the young man nestled between your thighs, rumbling through his chest and straight to your core. Your walls clench, but Jungkook stubbornly refuses to dip his tongue inside. Instead, he teases at your folds, spreading them apart with two fingers and licking ardently at your leaking juices before kissing a short trail up to your clit. “Can you cum like this?” he asks curiously, thumbing across the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His answer comes in the form of a breathy gasp, your hips jerking upward to seek out more friction. Jungkook chuckles and obliges your silent request, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours as he begins rubbing slow circles around your bud. “Guess that’s a yes,” he murmurs, pressing yet another kiss to your thigh. His gaze remains locked on yours as he rubs a little harder, dragging your juices up from your slit and digging in deep until you are moaning aloud, your hands coming down to fist in his silky hair.

“I-I’m close,” you keen. “Please, Jungkook, please.”

Jungkook hums and leans back. At the same time, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them upward, and the sudden surge of fullness is more than enough to tip you over the edge. His name escapes your lips in a garbled moan, your walls spasming around his hand as he continues teasing your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you finally whine from oversensitivity and bat him away. Obediently, he withdraws, rising to his feet so that he towers over you once more.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs, staring down at you with an expression caught somewhere between awestruck wonder and unbridled hunger. “You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty and perfect and—” He swallows, his throat bobbing harshly. “God, I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you now, Noona? Will you let me stretch open this pretty little pussy and fill you up with my cock?”

Your breath hitches. Never in a million years could you have imagined that your brother’s mild-mannered best friend could have such a filthy mouth, but you cannot hide the way your core clenches at his words. Slowly, you raise your arms, winding them around his neck to pull him closer. “Yes,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Fuck me, Jungkook.”

A groan escapes him, deep and cavernous in a way that sends heat spiking through your veins. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, his mouth chasing after yours as one hand finds the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other slides down to the waistband of his jeans, freeing himself from the confines of the denim. He doesn’t break the kiss for a moment, even as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. It isn’t until you’re seated on the very edge of the washing machine, wrapping your legs around his waist to steady yourself, that you pull away and let your gaze fall to his newly revealed cock. Jungkook is long and deliciously thick, and you let out a shaky breath when you see the pearlescent white drops beading at the swollen tip.

“Oh my god.” The words bubble up automatically, escaping you in an airy whisper. “How are you so big?”

Jungkook huffs out a hoarse chuckle, amusement glittering in his dark irises. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

Your gaze falls down to his length again, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Put on a condom, and let’s find out.”

Jungkook grins and produces a little foil wrapper from somewhere in his back pocket, tearing into it with his teeth. You help him roll the condom over his cock, and as soon as it’s in place, he’s lining himself up and pushing inside you. A deep groan escapes him as he parts your walls inch by torturous inch, and you moan as your pussy is stretched to its limit, molding to his shape and sheer size. By the time he bottoms out, he’s almost prodding at your cervix, and you grab breathlessly at his bicep.

“I—I need a minute,” you gasp, your body spasming around him as you fight to adjust to the surge of fullness.

“Me too,” Jungkook rasps, his voice strained. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales deeply through his nose, cursing again when you clench around him unconsciously. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”

For a few moments, there’s only the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. His breath is hot against the exposed skin of your clavicle, and you sigh when you feel him mouthing at the delicate skin, nipping softly before soothing across it with his tongue.

At the sound, Jungkook raises his head, dark eyes meeting yours before dropping down to where the two of you are joined. “God, you look so good like this,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “So pretty, stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench around him again—this time more purposefully. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, and you answer it with a deliberate roll of your hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move. Gingerly, he obeys, retreating until only the head of his erection remains inside you. His hand drops down to your clit, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks his thumb across the sensitive nub. Pleasure licks at your spine, replacing the discomfort. Jungkook lets out a pleased hum.

Slowly, he works up a rhythm, keeping his thrusts shallow as he begins rubbing circles around your clit again. With his other hand, he slides the straps of your top down your shoulders, tugging the bodice down just enough to free your breasts. Your nipples harden at the exposure, and a moan escapes you when he immediately takes one between his fingers, rolling and pinching at the peak. The additional stimulation, paired with the heavy drag of his cock along your walls and his insistent thumb on your clit, has you teetering dangerously close to the edge, your tummy tensing.

“Jungkook—” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He grunts in response and picks up the pace, rolling even more fervently up into your clenching heat, and you gasp when a particularly hard thrust sends you scooting backward atop the washing machine. “Fuck! I’m close, Jungkook.”

“Me too,” he grits out. “Come on, princess, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go for me one more time—”

And with one final flick of his wrist and a thrust that’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, you come completely undone, spasming wildly around his cock. It all proves too much for Jungkook, who’s groaning right alongside you as he reaches his high, spilling into the condom. He chants your name like a prayer as his hips gradually still, and his lips seek out yours almost instinctively as his cock softens inside you. The kiss is lazy and languid, contentment settling in your veins. Jungkook wraps you up in a warm embrace, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to explore.

It isn’t until a loud cheer rises up from the front of the house that you snap out of your blissful haze. “We should get back to the party,” you mumble into the kiss, pushing against Jungkook’s chest when he only pulls you closer. “Jungkook, come on. People are gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

“You know what else will make people suspicious? You, coming out like that.” He gestures at the skirt hiked up around your waist, a slow smirk playing at his lips as he gives you a once-over, his gaze lingering on the wet sheen streaking your inner thighs. “As much as I’m enjoying the view.”

You swat his arm. “Stop that!”

Jungkook snickers and bends down to pick up your discarded panties, swinging them around his index finger. “Stop what?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook.”

Cackling, he returns the lacy undergarment to you, watching as you pull the material up your legs. You adjust your shirt while he disposes of his condom, and when you hop off the washing machine, he offers you a hand that you gratefully accept, gripping his arm as you steady yourself on shaky legs.

“You should leave first,” you tell him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his t-shirt and relishing the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingertips. “It’ll look weird if we leave together, and I need to pee, anyway.”

Jungkook grins and catches your wrists, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth. “As you wish,” he says, offering you a playful wink.

Then he’s straightening back up to his full height, checking his pockets and running a hand through his mussed hair. You watch as he walks over to the door, putting his ear against it for a few seconds before determining that the coast is clear and slipping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind him, you hear someone—you’re pretty sure it’s a drunk Yugyeom—greet him with a resounding clap on the back. “Dude, where have you been all night? We’re getting our asses handed to us. Minho and Taemin are winning.”

“Sorry, man,” Jungkook half-shouts, and you realize that he’s making sure you can hear him. “Come on. Let’s go get that crown.”

Leaning against the door, you listen as their voices recede down the hallway. You count to five, and then to ten when your thumping heart refuses to slow. At nineteen, it finally calms down—enough that you feel comfortable leaving the laundry room and slipping into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There’s a massive crowd gathered in the dining room by the time you rejoin the party, and you easily slip unnoticed into the mass of people eagerly watching the final round of the beer pong tournament. Jungkook stands at the far end of the table beside Yugyeom, poised to throw.

He catches your eye at the same time he releases the ball with a flick of his wrist, a knowing smirk settling on his face as triumphant cheers break out all around you.

///

It’s well after midnight by the time the party begins to wind down. Chaeyoung and Lisa are nowhere to be found, and several other girls are lingering near the front door saying their goodbyes before heading out. You find yourself seated on the couch between Jimin and Minho, watching as the latter helps clean up by hurling beer cans at the wastebasket on the other end of the room.

“Man, no wonder you suck at pong.” Jungkook walks into the room and plops down on an end table, a faded cardboard Burger King crown sitting rakishly on his head. “Want me to show you how the champs do it?”

Minho snorts. “Fuck off, man, you barely won that second game. Besides, we totally would’ve won if Taemin hadn’t spent half the time staring at Lisa’s tits.”

Taemin, who’s perched on a corner of the coffee table, raises his hands innocently. “Hey, don’t look at me. I scored most of the points that round.”

Minho huffs irritably and tosses another can at the wastebasket, cursing when it bounces off the rim. Taehyung wanders in and picks it up, throwing it back at Minho before squeezing into the miniscule amount of space between you and Jimin on the couch.

“Jesus, Tae,” you grunt, shifting to give him more room. The movement tilts you toward Minho, smushing you against his side, and he shoots you a playful grin and a wink.

“Cozy?”

“Cozy,” you confirm with a laugh.

“Good,” he says, freeing his arm and throwing it across the back of the couch to give you a little more space. “It’s nice having you around again, Noona.”

Jungkook’s head whirls around so quickly you fear he might have given himself whiplash. His stare zeroes in on Minho’s arm, eyes narrowing at the proximity, but the other boy remains blissfully unaware as he leans back against the couch cushions. Subtly, you lean forward, trying to put some distance between your bodies.

“It’s nice to be back,” you tell him. “It feels like I missed so much, but at the same time, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“Choi’s aim sure hasn’t changed,” Yugyeom remarks from the doorway with a handful of empty beer bottles. “Still can’t land a shot, even after all these years.” Raising a bottle, he hefts it toward the wastebasket, smirking in satisfaction when it sinks perfectly inside the can.

“And not just with pong,” Taemin goads. “How did things go with Sana again?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk. Besides, we’d all probably stand a better chance if Jeon over there would leave some girls for the rest of us.”

“You’re just jealous because Sana likes him better than she likes you,” Taehyung says with a snicker. “Yo, Jeon! Didn’t you guys make it to third base at Jackson’s party?”

Your stomach sinks as all eyes in the room turn to Jungkook, whose eyes go wide at the sudden attention. “What?”

“Sa. Na,” Taehyung repeats, emphasizing each syllable. “Hottest girl in our year? Third base at Jackson’s? Or are you having a hard time remembering since you wound up leaving with Jihyo?”

Yugyeom chortles as he plops down onto the carpeted floor. “Fuck, man, I forgot about that. Jesus. Just last year you were still shitting yourself at the thought of talking to a girl. Who knew you secretly had so much game?”

The room is beginning to feel stifling. Every breath you take feels like you’re inhaling ash, like a volcano that has lain dormant for ages has suddenly and without warning erupted inside your chest.

He’s playing you. And even worse, it seems that this is a game he’s played before—many times, if his friends are to be believed. Your stomach turns at the thought.

From his perch on the end table, Jungkook scoffs out a stilted, staccato note. “Right. I guess any nonzero number would seem high to you guys, huh?”

Loud jeers break out from the surrounding boys, and you do your best to melt back into the couch cushions. The way you’re squished between Taehyung and Minho makes it impossible for you to find any leverage to stand, so you settle for leaning your head back and staring at the stucco ceiling, willing your heartbeat to slow. Gradually, the noise of the party fades into the background, as do the voices of your brother and his friends. It’s only when Jimin pokes your shoulder, singsonging your name, that you break out of your trance.

“What? Huh?”

“The lake house,” Jimin says, looking at you as if you’re stupid. “You down?”

You can only blink at him, repeating the words back to him dumbly. “The lake house?”

Jimin raises a brow. “Yeah, the lake house. You know, our lake house? The one we drive up to every summer? Where we’ve been vacationing since we were like, five?”

You scowl when he pinches your cheek like you’re a child again. “Yeah, I got that. What about it?”

A snort. “Jeez, have you been listening at all, Noona? We’re talking about going up there for a few days.”

“Oh,” you croak. Unwillingly, you find yourself glancing over at Jungkook, your face growing warm when you see him staring right back, his expression careful and composed. “Right.”

“You should come, Noona,” Taemin pipes up. “You’re here for the next few weeks, right? Might as well have some fun.”

“I don’t know—” you begin, but Jimin cuts you off with a raised finger and another pinch to your cheek.

“You can’t just do homework the whole time you’re here,” he says. “Come with us, Noona. Live a little.”

“It’ll help get your mind off your internship, too,” Jungkook remarks softly. “You deserve a break. Just a few days won’t hurt.”

The fact that he remembers your internship woes shouldn’t make your heart lurch. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help the way your chest swells dangerously. “Fine,” you concede, reaching over Taehyung to pinch Jimin’s cheek in retaliation. “I’ll come, I guess.”

Taehyung and Taemin cheer, and Minho wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you tight. “We should invite the other girls,” he points out, chuckling when you splutter for air in his ironclad grasp and try in vain to shake him off. “Don’t want it to be a total sausage fest.”

“Penis party is a much better term,” Taehyung interjects helpfully. “It’s alliterative.”

“You want alliterative? How about a cock carnival?” Jimin supplies, before doubling over in giggles.

You huff, exasperated at the ludicrous turn in conversation. “I can’t believe I’m coming with you guys.”

Minho snickers. “Title of your sex tape,” he jokes, punctuating it with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that sobers your brother up immediately. Jimin straightens up and fixes Minho with a glare, and despite your brother’s smaller stature, the older boy still shrinks back slightly.

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

Minho raises his hands apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Automatic response. My bad.”

You just roll your eyes. “Are you twelve? God. I don’t know how the girls put up with any of you.”

Gradually, the night draws to a close. The number of people milling about dwindles, and Taehyung fiddles with his phone, letting out a satisfied hum when he finds the playlist he wants. The music transforms into something low and smooth, the soft R&B beat filling the room. You feel your eyes begin to droop.

“We should probably head home,” Jimin says, stretching his arms lazily overhead. “Noona here has to get her beauty sleep, and I don’t feel like carrying her back if she falls asleep here.”

“Shut up, Chim,” you mumble, but there’s no real bite in your tone. Jimin just chuckles and stands up, tugging on your hand until you’re on your feet as well. Jungkook straightens up too, and together, you bid farewell to the others and head for the door.

“{Name}, wait a second.”

You turn at the sound of Jisoo’s voice, tilting your head curiously as she lays a gentle hand on your arm and ushers you off to the side. “Yeah?”

Jisoo casts a furtive glance around the hallway, lowering her voice to a murmur. “I see what’s going on with Jungkook,” she whispers once she’s sure the coast is clear.

You stiffen, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you manage to find your voice again. “You… you saw us?”

She nods. “He’s been watching you all night—it’d honestly be harder not to notice. I just…” She sighs and looks around again, missing the relief that must be etched across your expression as her gaze lingers on where Jungkook and Jimin are loitering by the door. “…just be careful, okay? Jungkook—he’s changed this past year. I mean, I don’t know if all the rumors are true, but… he’s not the same guy you probably remember. He went out with Chae for a few weeks, did she tell you that?”

At your look of horror, she sighs. “Figures. She hides it well, but I know she’s still torn up about how he ended it after they slept together. So watch out for him, okay? He’s a heartbreaker. And he never, ever stays until the morning.”

Every word that leaves her mouth stings, but you don’t let that show on your face. Instead, you force a smile and pat her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell her. “I’m not going to get involved with him.”

You repeat that to yourself the whole way home, trying not to focus on the young man a few paces away and the way you can still taste him on your tongue.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #bts imagines #brother's best friend!au #lia writes

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

Text

We met in online class - Last Part

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: And so it comes to an end, and let me tell you guys, I am not okay 😔 This is going to be a bit of a longer A/N, so please bear with me. If you’d like to get straight to the story, I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND, so feel free to click Keep Reading!

Lowkey, I had a bit of a meltdown as I typed the final words on this fic because I hadn’t realized how attached I had grown to the characters. This is the first time I wrote three different chapter openers before deciding on one, because I simply couldn’t believe it was goodbye after this.

These mofos had constantly been on my mind for the past two months and a half. I would spend most days thinking about where to take them and then bringing them to life at night, after my entire day was over. When I wasn’t writing, I’d make little notes about thoughts I had into the night about them so that I wouldn’t forget them when morning comes.

This was my first ever (and as of right now, my only) chaptered fic. I had no idea parting with it would be as emotional as it was. When I think back to when I first received the prompt for this, I had never even imagined I could write Renjun, let alone a series. But there was something in the prompt that had gotten my wheels turning. And I am so immensely glad that it did. There were days when I thought “Oh man, what have I gotten myself into.” Some days, the story would just flow. Other days, I’d keep staring at the blinking cursor not knowing what to type. But when I did, I found my emotions so deeply connected with the characters. I was happy when they were happy. I was sad when they were sad. So, parting with them is very hard to say the least.

But through this journey, I got to experience the joy of reading all of your reviews and comments and honestly, it made it all worth it. THANK YOU to every single one of you that read this story and waited on it and laughed and cried with it. You have made my life better in more ways than you can imagine.

In this moment, I want to thank 🍙 anon, because it was their prompt that put me in this mess in the first place. And so, it is only fitting that I dedicate the final part to them 💛

“Oh, we definitely need a picture together. How about here? I think this place would fit everyone.” Kim Doyoung looks about, finding a spot best suited for the photo he wanted.

“I think right there on the platform would be better. We could get everyone in two tiers.” his assistant suggests.

“You’re a genius. Let’s gather everyone. It’s not often that so many NCTU grads and students come to Midnight Arthouse,” Doyoung nods.

“How many of us are here, anyway?” Renjun muses. The assistant looks at her iPad, checking once again.

“I think there’s 23 of you. So, let’s definitely go for the platform.” she nods.

“Okay, then.” Doyoung claps his hands together once, “Gather everyone,” he says to no one in particular and walks ahead with purpose. Renjun and the assistant’s eyes meet and they smirk. Of course this was directed to the both of them. So, they set about to work.

As it would turn out, gathering 23 people from a charity event with art and food and drinks would be a bit of a task. But somehow, they manage to gather all alumni and current students on the platform in three tiers instead of two for a somewhat chaotic picture. There must’ve been something in the water at NCTU because none of it’s students could stand still for very long. They get maybe one decent picture and several in which someone or the other was moving or pulling a face.

His friends aside, looking around at the group, Renjun realized that he recognized nearly all of them. Yangyang and Hendery and the rest of their frat were here. As were the 127s, old and new. Renjun recognized them all, except maybe two boys, who didn’t seem to know a lot of the others either. When the pictures were done and the main events were over and the crowd had started to dissipate, Renjun finally walked over to the artwork to observe it up close.

Honestly speaking, watching the work with his own two eyes left no doubt in his mind that this artist deserved to be spotlighted like this. This work was in a league of its own. Watching it makes Renjun smile; because looking at it makes him think back to a few months ago when he was sitting in Kim Doyoung’s office, thinking of himself as some sort of a big shot. But the truth is, there was no way he had that caliber then, and there is no way he has that caliber now, though he was sure as hell working on it.

“This is the piece I lost the bid on.” Renjun hears a voice and he turns around to see Zhong Chenle’s father observing the art with him. Renjun bows politely and smiles under his mask,

“I mean, this is a remarkable piece. You have good taste.” Renjun acknowledges.

“What about you? Why isn’t any of your artwork displayed here?” he asks and for a while, Renjun smiles a bit nostalgically. He could’ve been here, had he made something for the Annuale. Had he just selfishly taken that shot. Then again, there would’ve been no real guarantees. Because Kim Doyoung was pretty particular in the people he chose, whether they were recommended by his family or not. Working with him closely in the last couple of months had taught Renjun that. It had also taught him how underdeveloped his skill was in the real world context.

“I guess I still have a long way to go.” Renjun replies humbly.

“Don’t we all?” Chenle’s father nods, “Are you working here at this establishment?”

“Um, I… I suppose I am. I am Kim Doyoung’s apprentice. He is my mentor.” Renjun nods.

“So I might see your work here soon enough, eh?” Renjun assumes the kind man is smiling under his mask because his eyes seem to be making the same shape as Chenle’s do when he smiles. So Renjun grins back.

“I mean… if I work really hard, I might get to shoot my shot in the next Midnight Arthouse Annuale.” Renjun fantasizes.

“Or maybe you’d get lucky like this young artist,” he points his chin towards the artwork.

Renjun smiles, “I would credit her luck, too if I hadn’t seen her work. But her talent is… it kinda speaks for itself.”

“Oh, no, you should definitely credit her luck. Talent isn’t enough. The stars have to align. Luck, talent, the right place, the right time. It all has to come together.” he says nodding.

Renjun considers his words. They seem to be coming from the wisdom of experience.

What if Renjun hadn’t received the phone call about his grandma back then? Well, then he probably would’ve made something lackluster and gotten rejected. Working with Kim Doyoung has taught him as much. It didn’t matter who had put a word in for him. At the end of the day, his work had to be outclass.

What if he had received the phone call and then still had enough time to submit something for the Annuale? Then he still probably wouldn’t have because… well, because of you.

What if he had gone ahead, regardless of you or his grandma and just made something and submitted it? Then he still would’ve been rejected. Because the truth of the matter is, he just didn’t have the caliber that artists associated with Midnight Arthouse did.

In that sense, Renjun supposes everything was in fact happening at the right place and right time now. Doyoung was mentoring him and he was getting better by the day. The stars were aligning for him. He knew it in his heart.

“Then I would wish that it all comes together for me, too.” Renjun says.

“When it does, young man, I’ll be the first one to bid on your work.” he says and Renjun doesn’t even have the time to react when he feels a presence breeze in his direction and invade his personal space.

Renjun doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. He can tell by the way this body fits perfectly into his side. He can tell by how naturally his own body responds and just puts his arm around it’s waist.

“Oh man, I missed all of it, didn’t I?” you lament, as you loop your arms around his neck from the side instead of a hello.

“Not all of it. The guys just left but your brother and his friends are still here. Besides, you had work.” Renjun turns his head and looks into your eyes to reassure you. “Y/N, this is Chenle’s father.”

“Oh, hello!” you say cheerfully and respectfully bow and give you greetings. “It is so nice to meet you. Chenle looks just like you!”

“Yes, I’ve been told I’m a more handsome version of him,” he smiles then turns to Renjun, “And who might this young lady be?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N. She goes to NCTU with us.” Renjun introduces you and you bow again. Oh, the thrill he got every time he got to introduce you as his girlfriend. Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’d never tire of it, even if it had just been a few months. The serotonin boost in his veins is strong and he gets the urge to squeeze you and hold you forever.

“Oh, that’s very nice. Come have a meal with us before we have to catch a plane back home, okay?” Chenle’s father invites the two of you.

“Oh, I would love to!” you say in your chipper tone before your eyes start darting around “I’m going to have to excuse myself for a little bit, I just wanna say hi to my brother.” you say and you politely bow before you start moving away.

“Babe, hang on…” Renjun says, holding you back by your hand. He brings his fingers delicately to the bridge of your nose and softly pinches down the mask over it so it sits more snugly on you. “There, it’s much safer now.” Renjun nods and watches the affectionate smile your eyes give before you move away. You looked so pretty today, even if you were just coming back from a four-hour internship. You were easily the most beautiful girl in this room, though Renjun suspected that you’d be the most beautiful girl in any room you entered.

Albeit sometimes, Renjun had to wonder if your talent or your beauty was greater. Because you had become the only junior in NCTU to land an internship at the SMK Trainee Drive. And now that you were a senior, you were somehow managing to keep your grades up alongside it.

Renjun, on the other hand, would find himself struggling with balancing his apprenticeship with his school work. So he knew firsthand how your discipline was something else altogether. Recently though, he had experienced a rise in his grades because you had been taking him on so many study dates that your organizational skills and motivation had started to rub off on him.

Renjun walks around the studio and the party and feels like it’s been too long till you’re finally back by his side.

“Love in the Time of Corona,” you read the title of an art piece displayed in front of you. “That was supposed to be our thing.”

Renjun laughs and has no qualms in looping his arms around your waist and finally pulling you into himself.

“I guess we should’ve realized then how un-novel the idea would become in a few months.” he comments.

“Un-novel is not a word, Huang Renjun.” you narrow your eyes at him.

Renjun laughs. “It is now,” he says and lets out a long exhale, “I missed you today.” he complains, though he looks down at you with warmth.

“Well, you’ve got me now. And you have me for the entire weekend.” you reassure him, your palms on his chest.

“Mhmm.” Renjun smiles and he wants to lean in to kiss you. But Kim Doyoung specifically had people assigned to walk around and make sure that everyone had their masks on when inside. “Also, we already have a thing.” he reminds you and winks.

You laugh, and say “I guess we do,” then let out a happy sigh as your eyes avert from his for a moment, taking in your surroundings. “Our Couple Thing should give you some ideas on what you can make when your work is displayed here in the 2022 Annuale. I won’t be late to that, I promise. I’ll take a day off from everything else in my life.”

Renjun's heart grows warmer still, and he’s sure his eyes reflect what he feels, “How can you be so sure my work will be displayed in the 2022 Annuale?”

“I don’t know, Huang Renjun. I just have a feeling about you.” you say and Renjun can see you smile even if your lips are covered by a mask. Your eyes always smiled before your mouth did, anyway.

“Y/N L/N, I have a feeling about you, too.” he retorts.

“And what feeling would that be?” you raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a secret.” he says, but now he sees your pout, even if he can’t see your mouth because your cheeks have puffed up over the mask. It makes him laugh.

“You’re no fun.” you protest.

“I’ll tell you once we get out of here.” Renjun offers.

“Well, I’m ready to leave.” you jut your chin up. Renjun grins and offers you his arm. You grab it with your entire body and the two of you start walking out together.

You had plans for the weekend, after all. And Renjun was determined to keep you all to himself for once, with no one else demanding your time. Not your internship, not your assignments, not any of your friends, and especially not Lee fucking Donghyuck. He was finally going to take you away where it could just be you and him and nobody else.

This moment felt way too surreal to Renjun.

The campfire had simmered down from a glorious roar to a comfortable burn, giving off just enough heat in the cool of an early winter evening. The sky was in it’s fading moments, where the pink of the light was slowly turning to violets and the violets were slowly merging into darks.

Renjun remembered suggesting to you all that time ago that maybe you could go somewhere together. But now that he was here, he hadn’t imagined that the moment would feel as surreal as it did.

Because now the two of you are sitting in front of your tent by the fire, entwined in one another. You’re sitting between his legs, arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek inside his padded jacket while he supports your head on his arm and kisses you.

He’s holding you in his arms and kissing you and everything seems so perfect that for a moment, he has to pull away to watch your face and wonder if all of this was real. And though there is a gentle smile on your face, you’re not opening your eyes much. Because you know full well that Renjun’s lips would be back on yours in no time. So you play with his hair as they fall to his forehead and when he kisses you again, you press up into him so he would wrap his arms around you and hold you tighter. He does and he rubs his hands up and down your back and attempts to close his jacket around you.

“Are you cold?” he asks lovingly. You shake your head.

“No. I just want to crawl inside you.” you say, like it’s the most logical thing to be said.

“Creepy.” Renjun remarks but holds you closer still.

“You should be happy you haven’t seen my collection of your hair clippings.” you quip as you nip into the skin of his neck.

“Oh, sweet. That rivals all your used tissues I’ve kept in my shrine at home.”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” you coo at him and then lean up to kiss him some more and he laughs. But soon, he pushes the arm that you were using like a pillow up so your face would be closer to his and he could kiss you as deeply as he was truly craving.

The two of you keep kissing like that till the sky is dark. It was an odd sort of trance, being so lost in one another that neither of you cared about what time it was or how long you had been sitting here, wrapped up in one another. Your phones were zipped away in your bags and you hadn’t checked them even once since you had parked your camping van and set up your tent. It was a slow, peaceful sort of bliss, just sitting by the fire and kissing and kissing with nothing else on your minds but being here like this with one another.

“Renjun?” you say, your voice sounding like it was returning from a deep thought.

“Hmm?” Renjun asks as he combs your hair away from your pretty face.

“You know, I learnt today that a cactus can live anywhere between 10 and 200 years.” you tell him, idly tracing the birthmark on the back of his hand.

Renjun leans in and presses long into your lips. “Yeah?” he replies and watches your face. It seemed hazily focused, like it was trying to catch onto a faraway thought.

“I also learnt that it can take up to 30 years for a cactus to bear flowers.” you say in an introspective, wistful tone.

Renjun looks away to hide his smile. Oh God, you were so cute. “Yeah?” he says again, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep a serious face.

“Sometimes, a cactus doesn’t flower at all.” you say and then you turn your head to look at him like you’ve resurfaced from your thoughts and are now in the moment. Renjun’s grin grows wider. “Renjunnn…” you whine and so he has no choice but to tenderly hold your cheeks in his palms and stroke your hair.

“What?” he chuckles.

“You said you’d think you’re worthy of my forgiveness when the cactus bears flowers.” you whine again and Renjun has to plant a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what I said?” he chuckles some more and then leans in to kiss the anxious realization away from your lips.

“Renjun.” you pout and Renjun laughs and takes his beautiful, whiny, kindhearted girlfriend in his arms and hopes that his hold could chase away all the worries from her pretty, brilliant mind.

He kisses you because his heart can’t bear it any longer. How did he manage to hold a heart like yours in his hand?

Renjun feels an indescribable amount of happiness. Like he wasn’t sure that you were really here with him, in his arms, all for him to hold, with no worry or burden afflicting him. The happiness is so immense and so incredible and so heavy that for a moment, he feels it suffocating him. He wonders if he deserved this kind of happiness.

But right in the next moment, he stops himself. He knew how easy it was to relapse into those tempting, lonesome thoughts. But if there was anything that therapy was teaching him, it was that of course he deserved happiness.

Though right now, holding you in his arms, this happiness was choking him. He felt like his heart was swelling and pressing against his lungs and his chest couldn’t bear it and he could no longer breathe.

“Y/N…” he exhales, holding you back so he can look at your face and you could look up into his. He pauses to gather another breath. Then, he just says it. “I love you.”

And doing so does the trick. He feels his chest slowly getting lighter, because this is what it had been bursting with. Now, he’s told you. Now, it can be unburdened.

You look up at him and there is nothing but a sparkle in your eye, and tenderness in your smile. For a while, you say nothing, just looking upon his eyes like that. “Thank you.” you finally whisper back at him.

Renjun pauses for a moment. But then, he relaxes. This was okay. You didn’t have to say it back right away. Renjun was ready to give you as much time as you needed. So he presses his lips into your forehead once again till he feels you laughing against him. He pulls back in confusion and you grab at the lapel of his parka.

“Huang Renjun…” you say and he looks back at you with uncertainty, “... I love you, too.”

And Renjun can’t help it if he kisses you too hard. He can’t help it that he’s squeezing you too tight. He wouldn’t care if the night brightens back into morning and the morning fades back into night. He was going to hold you just like this for the rest of his life.

So he lays you down and kisses you deeper, like he wanted to make up for all the time he had lost. All the time in his life when he hadn’t known you. All the time he had known you and didn’t let himself have you. He was going to make up for it all. And as he zips the tent up and shields you from the rest of the world, he wonders if he could spend all of his days just like this. Holding you and loving you and knowing that you loved him back; and if he could, today was a damn good day to start.

The fire slows to a simmer till all that’s left are embers that keep being carried away by the breeze. But the two of you remain inside, in your own world, happy that you had found one another, happy that you could finally have one another. Happy that you could hold one another and say that you loved each other and have nothing in the world hold you back, not now, not ever.

You were Y/N and Renjun, Renjun and Y/N, two names that were forever intertwined because that’s how people would call you now. You were the couple that belonged so perfectly with one another that people would wonder if you’d been together for years. And any time someone with a burning curiosity would come up to you and ask,

“So, where did you guys meet?” you would just look at one another, smile and say, “Well, we met in online class.”

~THE END

#renjun fic #renjun fluff #renjun angst #ficscafe #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #huang renjun #renjun #nct fic #nct dream #nct #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct college au #renjun x reader #we met in online class

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pennylanewrites · 3 years

Text

I got seven different asks about the College AU so here are some headcanons I have about them! (imagine aiura is in the picture I couldn’t find a good one with all of them)

I definitely didn’t mean to make this so long but I can’t help it I love them all so much<3

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Saiki Kusuo

→ marine!!!biology!!!major!!!!!!!!

→ doesn’t need to study but he still does bc he finds marine life so fascinating

→ read all of his textbooks on the first day bc he was so excited eeeek

→ always wears his germanium ring in class so he can stay hashtag focused

→ him and aiura have to bail toritsuka(didn’t go to college) out of jail once a month

→ speaking of aiura, she somehow has convinced him to go on a date on five different occasions

→ i think after high-school he realised he didn’t mind a kind of casual not-relationship with her

→ lets her hug him to greet him and sometimes he hugs back bc college boys stare a lot and he is just worried for her okay?

→ maybe I’m just projecting bc I kin aiura

→ does not go to parties unless he absolutely has to

→ if he does go to a party he’ll drink something quietly in a corner, just watching the crowd

→ a perv laced Teruhashi’s drink and almost lured her up the stairs so of fucking course Kusuo sprinted to help her, holding her on the way home bc men are drawn to her like bees to honey

→ she didn’t let him live it down ever

→ he rented a studio apartment and keeps it super clean, minimum clutter but enough to look lived in

→ cooks amazing food that Nendo smells from upstairs and next thing you know, they’re all bringing chairs to Kusuo’s apartment and have dinner

→ nothing excuses the fact he makes at least eight servings every time–

→ such a dad to everyone honestly

→ usually studies at a library or teleports back home if there’s a big test

→ mrs. saiki was banned from visiting every two days but she still ends up there somehow

→ not that he minds bc he’s the biggest mama’s boy ever

→ probably graduates a year early

→ doesn’t move away even though he got a job at the aquarium at the other side of the city help–

Kaidou Shun

→ fine arts major you can NOT change my mind

→ doesn’t do good in theoretical subjects but mans can draw some good bowls of fruit

→ wears those stained from the paints t-shirts all the time bc ‘no they’re not dirty it’s art!’

→ him and aren have small designated spaces in their apartment so they can focus on their hobbies/studying

→ his corner at the living room has newspapers on the floor to protect it from the splattering paint, some canvases propped up on the wall and a lot of unfinished projects

→ hides all of them when Nendou comes over

→ can not cook or clean to save his life

→ so he calls his mum to help clean up when Aren is at work

→ got over his 8th grader syndrome at some point

→ still wears red bandages bc he’s edgy

→ volunteers at the neighborhood exhibit centre

→ got asked to showcase his own works for a night and hasn’t shut up about it since

→ goes to yumehara for relationship advice and braids her hair as a thank you

→ couples sleepovers with Yumehara and Teruhashi (yes they’re dating shut up)

→ always makes something for Aren at special occasions (birthdays, anniversaries etc)

→ at first he went back home every saturday bc he missed his family :(

→ Aren helps him get over it though!!!!

Nendou Riki

→ got in on a sports scholarship

→ we already know he couldn’t be accepted in a college otherwise

→ in the chiropractic major bc he wants to be one of those athlete doctors

→ has failed way too many exams and classes

→ Hairo helps him so much though!!!

→ the last one in the group to graduate but somehow gets a job first (excluding Saiki)

→ him and hairo get up at 5 am for jogging or to hit the gym

→ and then he goes and gets noodles bc ‘if noodles aren’t for breakfast why do shops open at 6 am?’

→ hasn’t stepped foot in class in months

→ he gets decent grades after failing the first semester and it’s totally not Saiki’s doing

→ he ends up signing up for way too many clubs

→ attends all of the meetings and has so many friends through them

→ I would be his friend too in college honestly

→ a fraternity wanted to get him bc he’s so good at sports

→ he declined bc he does not understand how fraternities even work

→ is the life of EVERY SINGLE PARTY change my mind you can’t

→ whatever you do don’t imagine nendo surprising his boyfriend with flowers after every practice

→ *dies cutely*

Kuboyasu Aren

→ SOCIOLOGY MAJOR

→ idk I just think he would enjoy Marx’s Capital

→ debate club? hell yeah

→ gets in philosophical conversations at the school yard for HOURS

→ kaidou has to drag him away

→ only shops at thrift stores and makes coffee at home bc “capitalism is not accepted in this household”

→ rides his motorcycle to college even though he lives five minutes away

→ grew his hair out in a mullet again and he looks *chef’s kiss*

→ thought he would be moving too fast if he asked Kaidou to rent an apartment together

→ aiura convinced him it was fine

→ cooks kaidou’s favorite foods every day

→ participates in student rallies, human rights protests etc etc

→ comes home with bruises and kaidou thinks he looks so hot but still yells at him

→ Aren’s favorite place to study is his balcony or at a coffee shop

→ always with kaidou! cute boyfriends who do everything together!!

→ gets so drunk when they go out

→ drunk karaoke with kokomi yes yes yes

Hairo Kineshi

→ did someone say Athletic Training?

→ does every single sport and is amazing at it

→ will cheer for his bf if they have a game at the same time though

→ it was his idea to move in together bc ‘hey we’ve been dating for three years now might as well’

→ volunteers at a nearby elementary as a coach for the kids

→ SO GOOD WITH KIDS

→ wants to be a P.E. Teacher and he’s going to be great at it

→ does everything he can at campus

→ helping random clubs, making posters, cleaning up the hallways, helping the cheer squad with their new routine

→ dances ballet as a hobby even though he’s so good at it that he could be a professional

→ makes everything a competition with Nendo so they never get bored

→ once made everyone get up to jog with them and they ended up sleeping on random benches while Hairo and Nendo were halfway across town

→ will punch someone if he sees them catcalling a girl

→ doesn’t drink at all and eats super healthy

→ designated driver for the group’s outings downtown

Aiura Mikoto

→ THEATER MAJOR

→ is so good at stage acting it’s unreal

→ lands the lead role almost every time

→ is also an amazing singer so she gets great roles in musicals as well

→ doesn’t have to get a job bc she gets all her money from doing readings on campus

→ gets coffees and pastries from all the coffee shops around campus and sits Kusuo down so he can taste them

→ they have a little taste-testing date in his apartment until they decide none of them are as good as the ones at Cafe Mami

→ she totally doesn’t make him teleport there every morning and he totally doesn’t listen to her

→ moved in with chiyo bc they wanted a nice place that they couldn’t afford on their own

→ teruhashi told them to move in with her but they already loved their little place

→ aiura’s bedroom is the most comfortable and cozy room ever

→ their apartment is also the hang out spot for the group bc it’s just so homey

→ hangs out with her theatre group a lot, especially after class

→ they can’t compare to her friends though:(

→ everyone goes to her when they’re worried and she loves it bc she’s the mummy of the group

→ she makes everyone coffee and their comfort food before big exams:)

Yumehara Chiyo

→ psychology major one thousand percent

→ you know how they say that people choose psychology bc they don’t know what major they want?

→ that’s exactly what happened except she fell in love with it immediately

→ such a good student!!!

→ always does her assignments on time and still manages to have a social life

→ teruhashi asked her out at the end of their first semester and that’s the first time chiyo missed a deadline

→ practically lives with teruhashi, insisting it’s just to leave aiura alone

→ she’s just IN LOVE OKAY?????

→ would want to be a sorority girl at first

→ changed her mind when she realized how much shit they all talked

→ her and kaidou drink wine and talk about their relationships and studies

→ she’s so sleep deprived it’s unreal

→ she doesn’t need sleep anymore though

→ coffee is her best friend

→ makes asks Aiura for readings twice a week

→ brings all her psychology friends home and they analyze their textbooks

→ once she got the hang of it, she decided to examine Kusuo

→ she told him he needs actual medical evaluation

→ he almost threw her out the window when she offered some Xanax for his nerves

→ chiyo is a neat freak one hundred percent

→ hates when Aiura throws everything on the floor, but she loves cleaning

→ opens her own office after school

Teruhashi Kokomi

→ PRE-MED

→ lesbian doctor :)

→ just wanted to get away from her perv brother at first

→ she always wanted to be a doctor though, preferably a neurosurgeon

→ she’s super duper smart and hates when she gets good grades bc of her good looks:(

→ makes it her goal to show her professors that she’s more than a beautiful girl

→ hasn’t failed a single exam

→ helps everyone with their studies even though she’s drowning in work

→ drops the perfect girl image at college and decides she should try and aim for something normal

→ gets invited to every single party

→ in a knitting club bc it would get disbanded without one more member

→ knits!!!matching!!!sweaters!!!for all of her friends!!!

→ asked Chiyopipi out while drunk

→ never regretted it though

→ her and aren get so drunk when they go out with the group

→ it’s honestly unreal how much they can drink before passing out

→ has to get carried home

→ wakes up after getting drunk and runs to her class before remembering it’s Sunday

→ her penthouse has the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise and is all she could ask for in life

→ does get lonely so she’s practically living with Chiyo and Aiura

→ once she realized she didn’t like boys she made it her goal to get Saiki and Aiura together

→ people wonder how she has so much time to play matchmaker and volunteer while she’s in premed

→ does her internship at a hospital

→ ends up working there as a neurosurgeon after her Doctorate degree

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

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erwinsvow · 3 years

Text

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”

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