his little pawn

routine

001 routine
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MATURITY. That's what you saw in him from the start. Older, wiser—seven years ahead of you in life, in everything. You couldn't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Was it his age? His experience?

The way he moved through the world like he owned it, while you were still fumbling around trying to figure out where you fit? He knew exactly what he wanted—goals, ambitions, all laid out in front of him like a map he'd already memorized.

Maybe you fell for him too fast. Maybe it was the way he never hesitated, never second-guessed himself. He knew how to get what he wanted, and that... that was intoxicating. His confidence wrapped around you like a noose, tightening before you even realized it. You let it happen. You wanted him—needed him, even.

You trusted him, didn't you? More than anyone else. And now, sitting here, your wrists aching from the cold metal biting into your skin, you can't help but question everything.

Why the hell did you trust him?

No one's ever gotten under your skin like he did. He offered you a ride home, just like before. Nothing unusual, right? You'd taken his offers before, felt safe with him. But this time, his eyes held something darker, something you missed entirely in the moment. He said he wanted to stop by his place first. And like the naive, desperate college student you are, you agreed. You knew what was coming. Or so you thought.

But now? Now you're here. Shackled. Half-dressed, shivering against the cold, reality slamming into you like a freight train. This wasn't what you imagined. This wasn't what you wanted. Not like this. And yet... you let him pull you into this, didn't you? Let him wrap you up in his charm, his maturity, his damn good looks.

It was all a fucking illusion, wasn't it?

He got what he wanted. He always does. And now, here you are—caught in his web. Gullible. Foolish. You thought you knew him, thought you were in control. But you were just a pawn in his game. A game he plays too damn well.

You wanted him, and now you're his. Completely. In ways you never saw coming.

Routine was your life. Wake up. Eat. School. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Over and over, the same mind-numbing cycle. You didn't have many friends—none that could shake up the monotony of your days. The people you worked with, sure, but they weren't real friends. Just faces you saw during your shifts, exchanging shallow words to get through the hours.

"[Name]! Table 6 is ready to order!" Akaashi's voice cut through the din, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was juggling customers at the counter, clearly too swamped to handle the table himself. "Oh, and he's back again," he added, nodding toward the table in question with a knowing look.

Your heart gave a small, involuntary leap. Trying to hide the slight grin creeping onto your face, you grabbed your pen and notepad. "Got it!" You were already heading around the counter before the words left your lips.

He was here again.

Almost every day, without fail, this man shows up at the cafe. First with a couple of co-workers—you think. Then, later in the evening, right before your shift ended, he'd be back. It was like clockwork. You had an idea of what his routine was in your head: Wake up. Work. Cafe. Work. Cafe. Home. Sleep. Simple. Predictable. Just like yours.

As you neared the table, you couldn't help the small flutter in your chest, a weird mixture of nerves and excitement. His eyes met yours first. That familiar look—the calm, steady gaze, the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was always dressed the same, in that sleek black button-up and matching trousers, like he'd just stepped out of a business meeting. And yeah, you'd admit it—he was handsome. Too handsome.