#AU Date Auction

[jmagnabo92]

To Win A Date

When James' boss decides to do a Date Auction with his players, Sirius does everything in his power to get James out of it, realizing his feelings along the way.

AO3

***

“You’ll never believe what they’re doing for the charity fundraiser this year,” James complains the second he enters their flat.

Sirius glances up at him from his spot on the couch where he’s doing his crossword, amused.  “It can’t be any worse than last year.”

James had complained for weeks about the dance-a-thon competition, where he had to dance with all manner of ladies and gentlemen that really wanted their piece of James Potter, famous Chaser for Puddlemere United.  The rules for the night had been simple – he could dance with anyone that paid the fee to support the fundraiser.  

James had danced with no less than fifty different patrons over the timespan of seven hours and had come home furious that he was nothing more than a dance partner – a pretty piece of meat – forced to dance the night away with the annoying people that paid for his company just to raise money just for his boss’ reputation.

“They’ve decided on a date auction.”

Sirius stops what he’s doing to look up and focus completely on James.  “Like someone buys a date with you?”

“Yes.”

Sirius isn’t too sure that he likes that idea.  In fact, he’s pretty sure that it’d been difficult enough to watch James do the dance-a-thon (although he did manage to give him a break and cause him to dance with Sirius), he doesn’t want to watch him be forced to dress up and play piece of meat number one.  

“Uh, what exactly would this entail?”

“Apparently, I have to write some ‘about me’ thing, then we’ll gather at wherever they want to hold it – where I’ll show off my assets and smile and be charming, and then they’ll auction us off like pieces of meat.  Whoever wins me, gets a date with me to do whatever they want,” James states.

Sirius nearly chokes.  “Whatever they want?  Like would you have to sleep with them if they asked?”

“They said it’s just a date,” James says, rolling his eyes.  “But they pretty much implied that since we’re all single and it’s a good cause that we should do whatever they want.  Provided they paid enough.”

“They can’t expect that from you,” Sirius says, appalled.

“They technically didn’t say I had to do anything other than date the person.  Just one date – although they do have the option for more than one date, depending on how much I go for,” James states, rolling his eyes.

They both knew that James was a high earner.  Had been every time they used him to get money.  There’s no doubt given how attractive he is and what happened at the dance-a-thon that James would be a high-ticket option.

Sirius knows that he wouldn’t be able to deal with James dating someone else even for charity, but how could he go about dealing with this situation?  

Surely, James’ boss will see reason if Sirius points out that one of his players is rather uncomfortable with the idea and he offers all of the money in his vault for donation.  Even if the man is a piece of work.

“Don’t worry, Jay.  We’ll figure something out so you’re not being bought and paid for.”

James scoffs.  “Yeah, sure.  I’m going to take a shower; I feel gross after that conversation.”

Sirius nods.  “I get it.”

***

Sirius waits until the shower is running to hop through the floo after getting clearance from the Woodstone’s house-elf. As with the Blacks, the Woodstones were quite made of money.  Thomas Woodstone probably didn’t even need to do the fundraisers for the team to give to charity (except that he likes using them to build his image into a ‘good guy’, especially after most of his family had been on the Death Eater side of the war).  He lucked out that he’d been out of the country for most of the war and unable to take the mark.  He’d bought Puddlemere just improve his image and make everyone forget about that little tidbit.  After all, everyone loved quidditch.

“Mr. Black, what an unpleasant surprise,” Thomas greets after he’s lead into his office by the house-elf.  

“The unpleasantness is all mine, Mr. Woodstone,” Sirius retorts.  “I’m here because I heard about your next planned fundraiser, and I think you’d be better off changing options.  Perhaps something along the lines of selling sweets?”

Thomas laughs.  “Don’t be daft, Mr. Black.  We both know that after last year, this fundraiser has been in the books.  It’s a great way to make money – especially with our number one player.”

Sirius clears his throat.  “How much would it cost?”

“Would what cost?”

“Don’t be daft – how much money would it take to make the fundraiser disappear?”

“You don’t have enough money in the world.”  Thomas laughs.  “You and I both know that our fundraisers aren’t about the money.  I like being in control.  I like pushing people outside of their comfort zone.”

Sirius frowns.  Of course, he realizes what a sadistic bastard Thomas Woodstone is.  Of course, it’s not about the money.  Of course, it’s about being in control of his players and looking good to anyone not in the know.

“Fine – what can I do to save James from offering himself up on a date for your stupid auction?”

“You could trade places with him.”

Sirius laughs.  “You can’t be serious – that would be majorly suspicious.”

“Well, then, I think we’re at an impasse.  Your friend will simply have to honor his commitment.”

Sirius laughs, again.  James didn’t need this job.  Sure, he loved playing, but he could get on any team he wants, plus, they both have money out the wazoo – they didn’t even need to work.

“Yeah, right.  James could quit – he doesn’t need this job, the way the team needs him.  We’ve got money and he’s got the talent that he could take anywhere.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, “Your posturing is too much for me.”

“What?”

“Do you really think that James didn’t threaten that this afternoon?” Thomas questions.  “He knew what I was intending with this auction, but he, like all of my players, are under contract to complete the fundraisers I come up with until the end of the season.”

“What?  When did he sign a contract that allows you to sell him like a piece of meat?”

“When he signed his deal two years ago,” Thomas states.  “It was in the fine print, and I’m well aware that he won’t be dumb enough to sign another contract with the team after the season is over, so I have to make the most of the contract now.”

He’s trapped.  No wonder James was so furious.  

The smirk on Thomas’ face tells him everything that he needs to know.  Thomas wins this round.  

***

Sirius doesn’t go home.  He knows that he should, but the idea that bloody Woodstone has complete control over James like this makes him furious.  He always hated that man.  He always felt that since he was from a Death Eater family and just got lucky that he couldn’t join them from out of the country that he should rot in hell (well, Azkaban) with the rest of his family.

Of course, whenever he says that, one of their friends constantly tells him that people could say the same for him (as if he was ever into the Death Eater mantra).  Sirius may share the last name, but that means nothing since he never agreed with their rhetoric.  Unlike, Woodstone.

Not that it mattered.  Contracts in the wizarding world are far more binding that in the muggle one.  Thus, he was stuck and needed a drink.

He goes to the Apple’s Orchard, a muggle pub he enjoys, knowing that he wouldn’t be as bothered as if he went to a wizarding pub.  He sits down at the bar and orders his usual – whiskey neat, taking the swill almost as if it’s a shot, and causing the bartender to raise their eyebrows in surprise.

“Rough night?”

“You have no idea,” Sirius states.  

He hates Woodstone with a passion, and on top of that, he’s facing the fact that his best mate will be forced to date someone just for money.  And given that Woodstone clearly hates James, he wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more than one fundraiser like this in the near future.  He’s practically going to whore James out just because he can.  

“Hit me, again.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” the bartender, who’s nametag reads ‘Pete’, asks.

Sirius sighs.  “My best mate has … signed up to do this date auction.”  

Sirius can’t explain that James can’t get out of it, or the magic involved, but he can explain that Sirius doesn’t want him to do it and James is second guessing his choice.  Hence a quick explanation about the fundraiser.

“A date auction?  Is he good looking?”

Sirius scoffs.  “He’s gorgeous.  That’s not the issue.  The issue is that he made a deal to do this auction and that he’s second guessing and I don’t really approve of such a thing.  I mean, dating for money, it’s minutes away from prostitution and it feels wrong in so many ways.”

“How?  I mean, he’s single, right?”

“Yeah, he’s single.”

“So, an attractive man giving up an evening to raise money for a good cause – what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong?” Sirius scoffs.  “What’s not wrong with it?  I mean, he’s going to go on a date for money and I just have to watch him do it.  There’s nothing I can do about it.  And worse, technically it could be multiple dates and then…”

Pete looks like he’s trying not to laugh.  “You sound like you want to be the one on the date with him.”

“What?  No, he’s – we’re just friends.”

“Sure sounds like you’re jealous of whoever ends up on that date.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Pete hums.  “Sure, you’re not.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay, then you should be fine with whoever opts to win his date.  And if you’re not fine with someone other than you winning it – then, maybe you reconsider your friendship.”

Sirius frowns.  He wasn’t jealous – definitely not, but Pete did give him an idea: he could buy James’ date himself, but he had to be careful.  He couldn’t tell James his plans.  He’ll just have to be supportive some other way until the auction and then BAM – get James’ date himself.  

Totally Foolproof.  

***

Sirius kept his plans to himself.  Difficult though that was since James had complained about not being able to get out of the date auction every chance he got for the last two weeks.  

He thought about telling James, but then James might talk him out of it.  He’d probably tease him about coming to the rescue or even maybe, possibly being attracted to James.  Which he isn’t – he’s just being a good best mate.

Or at least that’s what he told himself over and over again whenever he pictured someone else winning James’ date.  

Unfortunately, Pete’s words kept coming to the forefront of his mind whenever he thought it.  Sounds like you’re jealous.  Sounds like you want to date your friend.

But he doesn’t… of course he doesn’t.  They’ve been best mates for ten years, if he fancied James, wouldn’t he have noticed that by now?  

So, no.  He doesn’t fancy James.

“What do you think?” James questions, interrupting his musings as he enters the sitting room looking like Merlin’s gift to men.  

Okay, maybe he is a bit attracted to James, but that’s not the same as a fancy.  He just happens to know that James is attractive, that’s all.

Sirius swallows and clears his throat as he checks him out.   “You look – good.”

“Just good?” James questions as he turns to the mirror in the room.  “I was trying to look a bit better than good.  Woodstone said I had to look like I care.”

“Bloody Woodstone is the worst,” Sirius states.  “But I just – yeah, believe me, James.  He’s not going to be complaining.”

“Does that mean I look better than good?”

“You look like Merlin’s gift to men,” Sirius states, honestly.  

“That’s quite the endorsement coming from you,” James says, laughing.  “But seriously, good enough?”

Sirius nods, “I meant that, you know.  You look unbelievably good.”

“Really?” James asks, looking quite flattered.  “I thought you were just teasing.”

“Teasing can be real, can’t it?” Sirius questions.  “I mean – you had to realize that you’re attractive with all of those men and women that hit on you all the time.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“But it’s not you.  All those men and women hitting on me aren’t the same as you,” James states.  

Sirius wants to ask what he means by that, but before he can, the floo flares.  

James groans.  “Time for this nightmare to start.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“I can only hope.”

***

The place they chose for the auction was rather expensive, no doubt because Woodstone wanted to invite high money makers so that the auction would go off well and get the attention he wants.  Sirius says goodbye to James as he is taken in by his team, all of whom look about as thrilled to be here as James is.  

Sirius moves to one of the far corners and picks up a program.  He glances over the pictures and bios of the team to the order for team to be auctioned off.

He groans when he realizes that James is last on the list.  He was hoping that he could save them both the misery of not knowing who was going to buy James’ date sooner rather than later.  Instead, he’s going to be on pins and needles all night.  

He sighs.  He needs a drink and a paddle for bidding.  

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to get his drink and paddle, but as he turns to go back to his far corner, he’s surprised to find that his path his blocked by Woodstone.  

“A paddle, Mr.  Black?” Thomas drawls.  “Thought you’d be against bidding on principle.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Sirius counters.  “After all, it is for a good cause.”

“Is that so?” Thomas questions.  “That seems quite odd considering you tried to use your influence to shut down the event.”

“Given that the event is still going to happen anyway, I’d say that clearly I was wrong about it being immoral,” Sirius states.  “Besides, just because I have a paddle doesn’t mean I’m going to use it.”

Thomas hums.  “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?”

“I do, and I thought you might do this,” Thomas states.  “Thus, I decided to institute a rule – no close friends or family can bid on their player.  Your bids will automatically be disqualified if you bid on James.”

“There’s no rule like that in the program,” Sirius states.  

“You obviously didn’t turn it over,” Thomas states.

He flips the program over and sees the rules:

1.     All bids are final.

2.     Payment is due at the end of the night.

3.     No close friends or family can bid on their player.

He glances up at Thomas when he finishes reading.  Thomas is smirking at him.

“Enjoy the event, I bet it’ll be much more interesting now,” Thomas states before turning and leaving.  

Damnit.  Sirius should’ve realized how obvious his plan would be.  Now he’d have to think of another plan.  

There weren’t many options.  He couldn’t bid on James himself, but he could potentially come up with an alias and bid as someone else.  The only problem with that is that Thomas would no doubt know what Sirius was up to, and thoroughly investigate whoever bids on James just to make sure that it’s not him.  

He could hire someone, but then, he wouldn’t know if he could trust them.  On the other hand, James was close to Trevor Jones on the team.  A good-looking man who had also been complaining about the date auction.

A quick look around lets him spot Trevor’s brother, Jeremy, looking quite uncomfortable and upset down at the program.  Clearly, he had wanted to do the same for his brother.  It would be perfect.

He makes his way over to Jeremy, and says, “Ready for tonight?”

“Not quite,” Jeremy admits.  “I had a plan to save Trevor from being bought and sold when he doesn’t want to do this, but then I saw this.”

He points at the third rule.  

“He doesn’t even know that I can’t help him out of this.  I’m not sure what to do.”

Sirius smiles.  “I had a similar plan for James, and I was thinking – I could get Trevor’s date, you could get James’ date, and it’s a win-win.  What do you say?”

“That I can’t afford James.  We both know that he’s sure to make a lot tonight.”

“No worries, I can afford James,” Sirius states.  “I’ll give all of the money in my bank account to get James’ date, but I can’t bid on him myself so…”

Jeremy nods.  “Seems like switching who we bid on is a good plan, then?”

“I’m game if you are,” Sirius states.

“Works for me.”

That settled, he says, “I’ll go back to my corner, but good luck.  He’s the last spot.”

“Trevor’s in the middle – make sure you don’t miss him.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

***

Before long, the event starts with Thomas introducing everyone to annual fundraiser, explaining that this year’s fundraiser is a date auction, and reminding everyone of the rules.

“Now, to get us started – we’ve got the lovely Isaac Button.  He’s twenty-two, loves the outdoors and can cook you dinner himself without a house-elf.  Let’s start the bidding at 50 galleons.”

Sirius tunes out.  He doesn’t need to listen to the other players and how much they’re going for.  He only cares about Trevor and James.  He needs this to go well.  He can’t stand the thought that James might go on a date with someone else.  He doesn’t want it.  He wants James for himself.  

Okay that’s a little strong.  Sure, Sirius has come to realize that he fancies James – thank you very much Pete – but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to ask him out or anything.  This is just about saving him from someone who might take advantage of him.  

Nothing else.  

It’s not like he’s going to confess his undying love for his best mate out of nowhere.  

Well, he could but James might freak out.

Before he could wonder if James’ earlier comment meant something about his potential feelings, he hears: “And now, we have Trevor Jones.  He’s twenty-four, an excellent chaser, can play the piano, and knows the perfect places to take you out on the town.  Let’s start the bid at 50 galleons.”

There are a few different people that lift up their paddles and the price goes up and up as two women battle it out before it’s gets to 500 galleons.  At that point, Sirius raises his paddle for 550 galleons.

“I see 550, do I have 600?”

A woman in red, raises her paddle, glaring at Sirius.  

“I see 600, do I have 650?”

Sirius raises his paddle.  Back and forth he and the woman go before he blurts out, “1000 galleons.”

“1000 galleons, going once, twice, sold to bidder number 53.”

Satisfied, Sirius smiles at Trevor, who looks uncertainly between Sirius and Jeremy, but Jeremy’s smiling.  

Good.  One down, one to go.

***

Sirius zones out, again.  He doesn’t need pay attention to the other players on the team or their bids.  He doesn’t really care.  He feels for them, of course, but he needs to focus on James.  James needs him to fix this issue, and he needs to make sure that Jeremy follows through with his end of the deal.

“And finally, James Potter.  Star Chaser for Puddlemere United, he can fly like no other and is every man or woman’s dream date.  Not only is he gorgeous, but he can cook, he can dance, and he’s pretty much good at anything you might want him to do.  Let’s start the bidding at 500 galleons.”

That’s a lot higher than the others, but James still has many paddles in the air.  Thus, the battle has begun.  

Sirius can’t help glancing over at Jeremy, who seems to be waiting until there’s less paddles in the air.  It’s a good strategy.  The same strategy he’d used for Trevor, so he’s not upset, but he is anxious.  

James can’t go to some random person that might want him to do something he doesn’t want to do.  

This is the most intense battle of the night as James’ number is now more than 3000 galleons, and the battle is between a red-haired woman, a blonde-haired man, and Jeremy.  James keeps giving him looks as if expecting for Sirius to step in and end the madness.  

Except he can’t.  He wants to, but he can’t.  

Poor James.

Finally, after ten minutes, Jeremy yells, “5000 galleons.”

“5000 galleons, going once, twice, sold to bidder 45.”

Relief floods through Sirius.  They’d figured it out.  Now, Jeremy could give him James’ date and he could give him Trevor’s.  Although he doubted that they would actually go on a date.  

***

With the event now over, Sirius makes it over to Jeremy.  “Thank you for doing this.”

“Don’t thank me – I did it for my brother more than you and James,” Jeremy states.  “Although I am glad that we’re able to switch with each other.  We should go finalize our dates quickly lest Woodstone make something up so that our plan fails.”

“Good idea.”

They quickly make it over to the booth and settle up, relieved when trading the date vouchers were able to be traded once they were paid for.

“Looks like I got my dream date,” Sirius teases as they walk away and straight into James and Trevor.

“Trevor’s your dream date?” James questions, looking a bit upset.  

“No, I – I couldn’t bid on you, so Jeremy and I traded – you, my deer, are my dream date,” Sirius states, showing him the date voucher.  

James looks thoroughly stunned.  “I am your dream date?  Since when?”

Sirius laughs, somewhat awkwardly.  “It’s just a play on the whole date auction thing.  You know, I wanted to save you the awkwardness of going on a date with someone that might make you do things that you don’t want to do.  This way – you win.”

“I win?”

“Yeah, you were a high earner like expected and you don’t have to play a piece of meat for some stranger that might want you to compromise your virtue.”

“Compromise my virtue?” James questions.

“Well, for 5000 galleons, I expect anyone else would’ve expected far more than a simple date.”

Especially given the way some of those men and women had been not shy about the way they checked him out.  

“5000 galleons?” James asks, surprised.  

Sirius laughs, “You didn’t pay attention?”

“We weren’t allowed to hear the bids,” Trevor states.  “They put a spell on us so we wouldn’t know what we were worth.”

“Wow,” Sirius states.  “Anyway, yeah.  I paid 5000 galleons, and it’s worth every one to make sure that you don’t have to play some piece of meat and compromise yourself.”

“I think I’m going to be ill,” James says, looking a bit woozy.  

Jeremy nudges Sirius.  “We’re good here, why don’t you take him home?”

Sirius nods.  “Yeah, I think I should.  Thanks for your help.”

“No, thank you – I appreciate saving my brother, too.”

“Good.”

He turns to James and says, “Let’s get you home.”

***

As soon as they get home, Sirius gets James into his bed and offers him a potion to help his wooziness.  Once he takes it, James sighs, obviously feeling better.

“There you go, James.  Just relax, everything’s alright now,” Sirius assures him, running a hand through his hair.  

“Do you have any idea of what could’ve happened if I earned that much, and it wasn’t you?”

Sirius barely contains his shiver.  The woman bidding against Jeremy looked quite like she wanted to skip the date and bed James.  It wouldn’t be a surprise given that amount of money that she would have paid to go the length of suggesting such a thing from James.  Something they both had been worried about ever since they discovered the date auction.

“I do,” Sirius states.  “Why do you think I did what I did?  I had the initial plan for me to bid on you myself, but Woodstone thought it through – knew I would do that and added a rule against it.”

“Hence bidding on Trevor for Jeremy and Jeremy bidding on me for you.”

“Exactly,” Sirius states.  “And now you don’t have to worry.  We’ll just have a nice date – dinner or dancing whatever you want and then, you know I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James states.  “Still, that’s a lot of money for us to do what we always do together.”

“You’re worth it,” Sirius says.  “Besides, you’ve already saved me – it’s my turn to save you.”

“That’s what this was, payback?”

“Of course not, but it helps,” Sirius assures him.  “I just – I know how worried you’ve been, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you in such pain.”

James smiles.  “Yeah, I get that.”

“Besides, you would’ve done the same for me.”

“Yeah, I would’ve.”

“Now, get some sleep.  We’ll plan out our date tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

***

The next morning was surprisingly awkward, Sirius wasn’t sure why until James says, “You realize that we have to go on a date now, right?”

Sirius hums.  “Yeah, but I mean – it doesn’t have to be any different than one of our normal nights together.”

Of course he wants it to be different – he wants it to be an official date, but he’s not going to say that.  After all, he wouldn’t want James to think he bought and paid for him just because he sort of realized that he maybe fancies James and didn’t want to be all jealous of James going out with someone else like he’d been when he dated Lily – not that he’d ever admit to be jealous of Lily.

It would be a terrible way to start a relationship.  

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah, I just got the date to protect you – I mean, it wasn’t, you know.”

“So, you – you don’t really want to date me?” James asks, sounding uncertain.

“Not like this,” Sirius states.  “Not when it was to save your virtue.”

James nods, “Right – of course.  Well, uh, either way, the voucher is for Friday.  We could do dinner, and just hang out.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Good.”

***

Despite everything feeling much more normal over the last week leading up to the date, Sirius finds himself surprisingly nervous.  He had expected that they would go to one of their normal haunts, but James had surprised him with the news that he had to make it a proper date.  Somewhere fancy and intimate.  

Apparently, the voucher had a specific location for the date – one of Woodstone’s restaurants.  Just another way for Woodstone to be in control, Sirius supposes.

It just means this date won’t be one of their normal handouts, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be intimate, right?

Sirius is perfectly capable of being his normal best mate self, even in a much more romantic setting.  After all, it wasn’t a real date.  

A knock at his bedroom door jars him from his thoughts, “Hey, Si, you ready?”

Sirius does a quick look over at himself, he thinks he looks good – he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he did still want to dress to impress.  Especially if they’re going somewhere fancy and intimate.

He opens the door and jaw nearly drops at seeing James.  He looks even better than he did at that auction.  “Wow.”

James chuckles, “Is that a good wow?”

“Very good,” Sirius grins.  “You look – fantastic.”

James grins, “You don’t look so bad yourself.  Ready to go?”

“Yup.  I’m ready to go,” Sirius confirms.  “Are we taking the bike?”

“Yes, I thought – I figured that we usually do when we go out,” James says, shrugging.

While true, they haven’t exactly been that close to each other since before Sirius realized that he fancied James.  Now, all of a sudden, he’s going to have James pressed up against him in form fitting clothes and … well, he’s not sure what he’s going to feel, but it probably won’t be platonic.  

Still, he can’t say no when he just asked James what he’d prefer, so he’ll just have to suck it up.  It’s not that far to the restaurant.  

“Great.  Let’s go.”

They make their way out of their flat to the bike.  He gets on and waits for James to situate himself behind Sirius.

The second he does, Sirius knows he’s in trouble.  He can feel every inch of James’ body against his back, he can smell James’ cologne – a deliciously, surprisingly forestry scent, and once his arms lock around Sirius’ waist, he can’t help thinking how terribly close his hands are to piece of his body that is uncomfortably reacting to James’ presence.  

This is going to be a long ride.

***

Luckily, they make it to the restaurant without incident.  Sirius managed to focus on the road instead of James pressed up against him, but it wasn’t easy.  

At least they made it safely.  Sirius pulls into a spot and lets out a relieved sigh as James gets off the bike behind him.  

“Are you alright?” James questions, moving so he’s looking at Sirius directly.

“Oh, yeah, of course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, but you’re acting weird,” James states.  

“Weird, how?”

“I don’t know exactly, but you’ve been kind of weird the last few weeks,” James states.  “I thought maybe it was just because I’ve been complaining about the date auction and you were annoyed with me, but it’s been over for a week, and you’re acting even weirder.”

Sirius scoffs.  “You say I’m acting weird, but you can’t name how I’m acting weird?  Seems maybe you’ve misinterpreted something.”

“I haven’t – I know you better than anyone else, Sirius.  I know when you’re acting weird,” James insists.  “What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing!” Sirius says, a bit too strongly.  

“Fine, lie to me.”  James frowns at him.  “Let’s just get this stupid date over with so that I can get out of your hair.”

Great, now James is angry with him.  

“Jay –”

“Don’t ‘Jay’ me,” James states, angrily.  “You’re my best mate – we agreed to never lie to each other after you had to run away from home, and I had no idea how bad it was there.  And now, you’re doing it again?  I just – I thought after ten years of being my best mate, you’d know that you can tell me anything.”

James has a point, Sirius knows.  It’s just – how do you tell your best mate that you suddenly realized that you fancied him?  

“It’s nothing like that – I promise,” Sirius states.

James is still shaking his head.  “Then, at least give me a hint.”

Sirius groans.  This isn’t going to be easy no matter what he says, but he knows how important honesty is to James.  Especially after that fateful summer night after fifth year.  

“I – it’s embarrassing.”

James laughs.  “You’re rarely embarrassed, Si.”

“It’s – I – I realized that I fancied someone … kind of suddenly.”

James laughs, again, and rolls his eyes.  “Right, like I believe that.”

“It’s the truth, and it’s been kind of hard for me to realize it all of a sudden.”

Rolling his eyes, James scoffs, “Fine, as long as it’s nothing like before sixth year, you can keep your secret.  Now, are you ready for dinner?”

Sirius isn’t sure if he should be relieved or upset that James completely dismissed the truth, but either way, he’s going to have to get through this dinner date with James knowing that James is at least a little bit suspicious of what’s wrong with him.  

He’s not sure what he should tell him, and yet, he takes a deep breath and says, “Yeah, ready.”

***

Sirius isn’t surprised when James barely makes it through ordering their dinners before he asks, “Okay, seriously, what’s the secret?”

Sirius rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the way James’ intense interest in him makes his stomach flutter.  

“Didn’t you just say that you don’t need to know, and I could keep my secret?”

“Did I?” James questions.  “That doesn’t sound like me.”

Sirius gives him a look.

“Oh, come on, since when do you keep secrets?  We tell each other everything.”

“I told you – I realized I fancied someone and that’s it.  There’s nothing to tell.”

“You could tell me who it is.”

“I’d rather not,” Sirius states.  Then he distracts James by mentioning quidditch and the next game, which is tomorrow.

His distraction works – for about ten minutes until their soups come out.

“I can’t believe I fell for your distraction.”

“I can’t believe you think I’m not allowed secrets,” Sirius complains.

“Oh, come on – I’ve told you about every one of my fancies,” James states.  “I gave you all of the nitty gritty details and to be fair, you’ve done the same to me.”

“It’s different this time.”

“How?” James questions, before pausing with his spoon half-way to his mouth.  “Wait, it’s not Woodstone, is it?”

“No, Merlin, no,” Sirius states, appalled.  “As if I could ever fancy a man like that.”

“Good because I don’t think I could live with that,” James says, relieved.  “Now, tell me – who is it?”

“It’s better left a mystery,” Sirius states.  “Now, will you please let it go?”

“Of course.”

Sirius doesn’t quite believe him, but he does allow the conversation to drift into other matters for a bit, long enough for their dinners to come out, but Sirius knew that it couldn’t last.  

“Is it Jeremy?”

“What?  No,” Sirius states.  “I barely know the bloke.”

“Yeah, but he is attractive.”

“No, I’m not into Jeremey, and I thought you said you would drop it?”

“You can’t blame my curiosity.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”

“I’m not a cat, Si,” James states.  “I just need to know – is it Trevor?  You did joke that he was a dream date.”

“No!  It’s not him either.”

“What about Scotty?”

“The beater?” Sirius questions.  “Why would I be attracted to him?  He’s gross.”

“Martin?”

“No.”

“Max?”

“No.”

James continues to guess every player on his team, including the reserves, except himself over the course of their dinner, until finally, he says, “I’m running out of players here.  Who is it?”

“It’s you, dumbarse!” Sirius says, way too loudly and surprising himself.

Well, shit.

James looks utterly shocked.  

So shocked that Sirius reads it as utterly disgusted.  

“Oh, Merlin, that was a mistake – I have to – I have to go.”

Sirius rushes off, determined to put as much space between him and James as possible.  He couldn’t believe that he just outed himself to James like that.

He probably just ruined everything they’ve built together.  James’ll probably move out, they’ll stop being friends, and everything good in his life would be gone.  

He vaguely hears James behind him trying to get his attention, but he just speeds up.  He can’t do this right now – it was bad enough seeing that look on his face.  He had to get out of here, take a drive far, far away.  Somewhere James would have no idea about.  Somewhere James wouldn’t be able to follow him.

Maybe he could spend some time hiding out and by the time he came back, James will have forgotten all about it or at least decided that they didn’t need to discuss it.  Or maybe, he’ll be gone.  Yeah, that would probably be for the best.  

Sirius could run away, and James could move out and that’ll be it – the end of an era.

He makes it out the doors and almost to the bike, when he feels someone pulling on his arm and the next thing he knows, he’s all turned around and pressed up against James, whose lips come crashing against his.  

It’s delightful and surprising.  He’d never let himself imagine kissing James, but damn, if he wasn’t a great kisser.  He doesn’t want it to end, but eventually, they both need air.  

“Merlin, that was –” James coughs.  “I know that we have a lot to talk about, but – can we just … continue our dinner date and – and talk about it later?”

Sirius can’t help being hesitant.  He’d just confessed that he was into his best mate, who chased after him and gave him one of the most amazing kisses of his life, and – and now, he just wants to go back to a dinner date that Sirius paid for due to this stupid date auction that started this whole mess?  How does that make any sense?  Then again, considering that he hadn’t intended to blurt it out or kiss James, it was only fair to concede.  He didn’t have to ruin their night together.

“Okay, yeah.  Yeah, let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No – I don’t want to ignore it, but I – I need time to process,” James states.  

“Process?”

“You just dropped this huge thing on me and yeah, I kind of want to kiss you and forget about dealing with all of these feelings right now, but I – I can’t,” James says, giving him a look.  “I can’t – I can’t risk screwing this up.  I – I need to think things through and at least, we could enjoy dinner together and it’ll … be enough to process and we can talk about it at home.”

Sirius nods.  After all, he’s had weeks to process this.  It’s only fair that he gives James time.  

“Yeah, I – I get it.  Let’s just go enjoy dinner.”

“Good.”

Sirius had expected that the dinner would be awkward after that, even as James leads the way inside, chatting about something that honestly went in one ear and out the other, but it wasn’t awkward at all.

Somehow, by the time that they sat down, again, James had managed to keep the chatter up and he was responding easily enough that it was almost like nothing had changed.  In fact, if Sirius didn’t know any better, he’d assume that it had all been a dream.

A dream with a mind-blowing kiss.  Surprise kiss though it was.  

Sirius couldn’t help thinking about that kiss, even as he and James toss back and forth jokes as if they’d just stepped out for some air.  It was just like any other night, except they’re a little more dressed up and this is technically a date.

Not that Sirius had really considered it a date.

No, that – this was not going to be their first date.  Sirius would want to plan a something a little more them for their first actual date.  

This date is just a practice.  Which means, he should be paying better attention to James and the words he’s saying instead of answering on remote and not really paying attention beyond watching James’ lips wondering if James’ thinking it through would mean that they’d be kissing again later or if James would decide that one kiss was enough.  

Sirius isn’t sure he could handle that, though.  Sure, he’d been thinking of running away but that was before James kissed him.  

James kissed him.  

Clearly, that meant there was some sort of attraction, but was it enough?  Or was James stalling for time so that he could figure out how to let Sirius down easy?

Sirius groans.  Will this date never end?

“Wow, Si,” James states.  “All you to do was say no.”

“Wait, what?” Sirius asks.  He’d completely missed what James asked.

“We were meant to go out dancing after the dinner… I asked if you were up for dancing?”

Sirius coughs.  He’s not sure that it’s a good idea to go out dancing with James, but he’s looking at him so hopefully.  

“Oh – er – yeah, that’s a good idea,” Sirius states.  “We should finish this –”

“Date?” James supplies.

“Non-official, not real technically, date off right,” Sirius states.  “Maybe – practice date?”

James chuckles.  “Practice date?  Interesting idea.  If that’s the case though – that this is a practice date, does that mean I get to mark you?”

Sirius chokes on his drink.  “And what sort of mark would you give me?”

James grins.  “I don’t know – depends on how you do on the dancing.  After all, I carried dinner, and you didn’t pay attention to a single thing I said.”

“I – I … you – it’s not fair,” Sirius complains.  “You just kiss me and then expect me to have dinner and then dancing?”

“That’s what I was promised for this ‘practice date’, so – are we dancing, or do I give you a T?”

“You’d give me a Troll?” Sirius scoffs.  “Did nothing before you forced me to talk count?”

“Fine, fine.  How about you’re at Dreadful, but you can bring it up if you kick arse at dancing?” James offers.  A grin on his face that has Sirius chuckling to himself.

Why did he fancy this man?

“Fine.  I’d be delighted to dance.”

“Good.”

***

Sirius had decided to tease James about how scoring system for their practice date as they finished their dinner and made their way over to the dance club down the block.  He still can’t believe this class A dork is teasing him about being bad at the date, but he could make it better.  

Thus, holding James’ hand during the walk and contributing to the conversation until entering the club where it’s loud and hard to hear.  He leads them to the middle of the club before during around and starting to dance.

He knows all of James’ moves and can’t help teasing him about how much he looks like a dork.  

“I’m a dork?  Like your moves are any better?”

“My moves are way better,” Sirius states as the music changes songs.  

They both laugh and enjoys smiling and dancing for several songs before the song changes to a slow song.  

“Maybe we should take a break, get a drink?”

James shakes his head as he wraps his arms around Sirius’ neck, pulling him close.  Sirius doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around James’ waist, pulling them flush against each other, and leaning his forehead against James’.  He could see deep into his eyes, and those brilliant hazel eyes are so inviting that he’s tempted to kiss him, again.

Deciding to go for it, Sirius presses his lips against James’, causing James to tighten his arms around Sirius’ neck.  

The kiss is far more brilliant this time since he’d been expecting it, and he’s half-convinced that James actually wants to be with him.  He opens his mouth and runs his tongue along James’ lips, and James complies.  

The kiss turns to snogging and Sirius could almost forget the nightclub and the practice date and pretend they’re at home and he could drag him to one of their bedrooms or bugger him right in the sitting room, but suddenly, he finds himself all wet as someone throws a drink on them.

“Get a room!” the drink thrower yells, before going off somewhere so they don’t start a fight.

James coughs.  “Wow.  Wasn’t expecting that.”

“The kiss or the drink?”

“Both,” James admits.  “I did ask to think about it until we got home, but I – er …”

Sirius frowns.  “Oh, do you – er – need some space?  I just thought – with the teasing…”

James smiles at him.  “Let’s go home and talk about it?”

Sirius nods.  “Yeah, yeah, let’s do that.”

***

It doesn’t take very long to get home, even though Sirius is just as distracted by James being close to him as he was on the ride to the restaurant.  

It’s lucky though because as soon as they close the door to their flat before he can even begin to ask how to start this conversation, James is kissing him, again.

It’s hot and passionate and frankly, Sirius wants to carry James off to his bedroom and unwrap him like a present, but they needed to talk about it, so he pushes him back slightly.

“Weren’t you the one that wanted to talk?” Sirius questions.  

James coughs.  “Sorry, I – I know it’s my idea to talk, but I just couldn’t resist.”

“So, then, you – you’re attracted to me, too?” Sirius questions.  

James nods as he moves to their couch.  

“For how long?” Sirius questions as he sits opposite him.

“Remember when I broke up with Lily?”

“That was two years ago,” Sirius states, and James makes a face.

“Yeah, I – er – I realized that I didn’t want to spend as much time with her as I did you, and that you are one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, and you just have the most kissable lips…”

James moves closer to him, evidently wanting to kiss him, again.

Sirius stops him.  “We can kiss in a minute.  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I – well – you were dating one of the players from another team, and I signed onto the Puddlemere team with the idea that I stayed single so I’d draw in a crowd and – and I didn’t think you – one of the most eligible bachelors in the country – would want to me, I guess.”  James pauses.  “And I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have.”

Sirius groans.  “I guess that makes sense given that I didn’t either.”

“And I would’ve said something if I thought you were into me, but you – you never showed interest until the date auction came up and I thought – well, you’re always obvious with your plans, so you’d get the date and I’d be able to, you know… feel you out,” James offers.  “I mean, it did work well, right?  You said I was Merlin’s gift to men and – and you were acting weird, so I thought –”

James pauses and searches Sirius eyes.  “You do want to be with me, don’t you?”

Sirius nods, so relieved and happy.  “I do – I do, James.  I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“Good, then, let’s start this relationship off with a real date.  You and me, tomorrow night?” James questions, a happy grin on his face.

“I’d love to,” Sirius smiles.  “But only if I get to spend tonight snogging you.”

“Deal.”

[tennessoui]

wait lol au where post-war, the jedi order does a date auction a la every cliche ever where they auction off a date night with one of their jedi generals. it's supposed to raise credits for various post-war charities as well as stoke good feelings about the order (the smear campaign was pretty effective, even if sidious died before the genocide bit)

obviously both the hero with no fear and the negotiator are put on the metaphorical chopping block. anakin is a Good Husband™️ so he clears this with Padmé first, and she laughs and agrees and wishes him luck in surviving the hoards of fans that desire him carnally. she says as a senator, she will be expected to attend and maybe even bid. they both agree that it would be way too obvious for their super secret marriage if she bids on anakin, and anakin asks her to bid on obi-wan in a spur of the moment thing.

it's just. obi-wan was really hurt aboard the invisible hand and then he was hurt again when fighting with grievous. and is anyone vetting these random people who will get to go on a date with the jedi? anyone could win!! a disgruntled separatist could win obi-wan's attention for a night and then take him on a date and then kill him!!!! under anakin's very nose!!!

anakin actually gets like. super concerned about this possibility. like super concerned. he gets padmé to promise that she will bid however much it takes to win obi-wan's hand (she is after all generationally wealthy) and she agrees because she loves him and then also follows through because she's a woman of her word.

anakin gets bid on by several people, one woman wins, it's whatever, anakin doesn't care. what anakin cares about is making sure he and this person can go to the same restaurant as obi-wan and padmé. just like. to make sure obi-wan is alright. he was looking quite flushed during the bidding? anakin is Concerned.

and anakin's poor date, who paid millions of credits for his attention, has to deal with an anakin who is obsessed with what's happening a table over and why are they laughing and are their knees touching beneath the table and maybe anakin should go over and like? break it up? his master is obviously a bit uncomfortable in all this candlelight. he looks beautiful, obviously, but he's clearly uncomfortable and he would feel better if anakin were there. obviously.

and anakin's poor date ALSO has to deal with meeting obi-wan kenobi after/during dinner because anakin can't keep in his lane, and general kenobi is downright hostile and cold to her because he's feeling incredibly overprotective at the thought of anakin having to spend time with some woman who bought him. as if he were a slave again.

[starfall-spirit]

*While googling things to do in Heraklion* It doesn't matter where overseas Rhys takes her. It's a smut fic. Location is just for the aesthetic.

[dynamimight]

i hv such a fic Idea but i am so tired so i'm gonna roughly rough draft in the tags and hopefully get back to it later lol i have a headache 😭😭

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess

This prompt is a variation of good!GIW AU (read here), but that's an excuse because I just wanted badass Jasmine Fenton and her good boy Jason Todd.

"Jason?"

The voice catches him off-guard. Not because he doesn't know it, no, quite on the opposite - he knows that voice very well, he's just heard it this morning when his beautiful girlfriend kissed him on the cheek and left for work.

It's just that he didn't expect to hear it at a closed auction full of magic artifacts, two states away from Gotham, and in a room full of rich-ass people from all around the world.

He turns around.

Jazz is looking at him with an expression of pleasant surprise, black off-shoulder silk dress with teal accents draping her figure all the way down to the floor - it's kind of reminiscent of Greek togas, with high waist and lots of folds on the skirt. It also makes his girlfriend look even taller than she is, which, Jason is fairly certain, was intentional.

She is also wearing a necklace on her neck, and just by one look at it, Jason knows that it costs at least five times more than the apartment they live in.

"Jazz?" He breathes out, astonished, but then catches himself and puts on a smile, "You look stunning." This is not the time to argue or ask questions; he is on a mission. And it's a time sensitive one, so no matter how curious he is, it can wait till later. They do live together, after all.

"Thank you," the girl smiles, and then briefly turns her head to a tall man in a very expensive dark blue suit standing beside her, "If you excuse me," she nods with an apologetic smile in the corner of her lips, and the man smiles back and takes a step away. Meanwhile, Jazz approaches Jason and casually places a hand on his elbow.

"Mind telling me what are you doing here?" She questions, and, wait, that was supposed to be his line! Jason blinks and shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor.

He can't exactly say, 'Constantine asked Batman for a favor because he knows the man is rich as fuck, so now Jason has to either buy or steal an ancient dagger for some bullshit magic ritual because he was the only one free tonight and John really needs that dagger and that ritual and Bruce owes him a favor, unfortunately'. Jazz doesn't know he is a vigilante/crime lord in redemption. She might suspect he is - that girl is perceptive on par with mind readers - but Jason never straightforwardly told her, and she never brought it up herself.

So, instead, he goes, "Sightseeing."

Jazz raises one eyebrow and pointedly looks around the dimly lit room full of magic users, rich collectors, socialites, and other shady individuals. Jason keeps smiling. Eventually, the redhead sighs and looks away, taking a step forward and guiding him through the auction at a leisurely pace.

"Looking for anything in particular?" She tries again, and Jason debates if he should answer her. On one hand, his head is buzzing with thousands of questions, starting with 'how did you even make it here when your shift at Arkham ended two hours ago' and finishing with 'to which group of shady individuals do you belong'. On the other hand, she clearly does belong here if her confident posture and outfit are taken into account.

And she is his girlfriend. Has been one for two years now. Maybe it's time to share some secrets.

"An obsidian knife with an owl on the handle," he finally says, and Jazz hums.

"A Tecpatl?" She clarifies, and Jason doesn't even feel that surprised by her sudden knowledge of Aztec culture. He nods. Jazz gives him a thoughtful glance, "And how important is it for you to have it?"

"To the point where I'm prepared to steal it if I have to," he laughs, but judging by the look on Jazz's face, she gets that he is only half-joking. She narrows her eyes at him:

"Is it for you, or for your, um, friends on the orbit?" She asks, briefly glancing up to the ceiling, and Jason feels very confused for a second there.

But then it hits him: she is talking about the Watchtower. She is implying the League.

Jason doesn't hold back a quiet curse, "Damn it, I should have hidden the guns better, shouldn't I?"

Jazz laughs softly, but it's a warm, affectionate laugh, "Well, yes, but you also shouldn't leave bloody bandages in the bathroom. And your helmet on the kitchen counter," she tells him, amusement lacing her voice, and Jason rubs his face with his free hand.

"Fuck," he mutters. And then, "Sorry."

Jazz waves her hand it the air, brushing his apology off, "Don't worry. I'm not in a place to blame you for having secrets, am I?" She muses, and, okay, fair. But before Jason can try to make her elaborate on the topic, she returns to her previous question, "So is it for a friend?"

The knife, right. Jason makes an annoyed face, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah. Bruce owes someone a favor, but he couldn't make it. Other stuff came up," he huffs. 'Other stuff' in question includes some off-world mission, so he really couldn't make it, but that doesn't make Jason any less mad about it.

"Let me guess, that 'someone' smells of cigarettes and liquor, has a British accent, and wears a trench coat," Jazz deadpans, and Jason stares at her with wide eyes.

"How- Are you sure you're not secretly a mind reader?" He asks. He knows for sure that Jazz doesn't have a meta-gene, but maybe she is a magic user? That would explain why and how she is even at the auction. Yet, the redhead laughs.

"No, sorry. Just met him a few times," she winces like she can smell the phantom smell of tobacco even when the mage is not here, "Can't say I like him, but asking someone to fetch him a Tecpatl seems like his style."

That only makes Jason even more inclined to believe his girlfriend is actually a magic user. But he doesn't get to ask because Jazz suddenly looks him in the face.

"Consider yourself in luck, by the way," she grins, "You won't have to steal it."

[part 2 ->]

[plutotheplum]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 pluto's masterlist ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

pluto | twenty | she/her | ao3 | mdni

LOVE & DEEPSPACE

౨ৎ qin che | sylus

resonance | stardust: part one - smut, fluff (4.5k) ↳ with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

a lust for love | stardust: part two - smut, fluff (5.7k) ↳ ever since you've left the N109 zone, you find yourself missing a certain white-haired man.

sweet summer breeze - smut (5k) ↳ date night with sylus gets out of hand.

close to you - smut, fluff, fwb 2 lovers (4.9k) ↳ a sleepy morning with sylus results in unravelled feelings.

red tape - smut, mma!sylus (8.8k) ↳ the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful.)

ex-husband!sylus - headcanons/drabble

౨ৎ li shen | zayne

in every life - mild smut, fluff (1.3k) ↳ zayne wants to spend the morning of his birthday with you.

the emperor's affection (series)

the first fall of snow | part one - smut, historical au (7.7k) ↳ the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

keep my hand in yours | part two - smut, fluff, historical au (6.9k) ↳ the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

RESIDENT EVIL

౨ৎ leon s. kennedy

socks and kisses - smut, fluff, roommates 2 lovers (3.7k) ↳ a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

HAIKYUU!!

౨ৎ akaashi keiji

felt good about you - smut, fluff (4.8k) ↳ delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

[agustdiv1ne]

ticket to nowhere (but your heart) (m) — cyj

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers au, photographer!yeonjun, artist!reader, fluff, angst, smսt

wc: 22.3k

synopsis: twelve days. twelve days is all you have on this godforsaken train to find the spark that will save your dying art career — but you never thought that you would find it in the enigmatic stranger that you can’t seem to stop running into.

warnings: mdni!! ageless + blank blogs dni!!!, mc is bad with feelings, is alluded to have anxiety, and is written as shorter than jjun (i'm sorry to my taller friends, i love you) + the same age as him (24), this takes place in various places across the u.s. (sorry in advance), mentions of food + alcohol, vvvvv brief depiction of potential self-injury when describing a painting, beomgyu + le sserafim's sakura, chaewon, and yunjin (called jennifer here just bc i felt like it) are featured, dom!jjun, sub!mc, soft sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), light begging, multiple orgasms, protected sex (hooray!), missionary, praise

note: part of @majestyjun's yeonjun bday event!! REPOSTED bc tumblr decided to not let this show up in the tags (edit: it's now showing up!!) </3 also my longest fic to date, so that's something

*:･playlist･:*

(cross-posted to ao3 here!)

masterlist

everything in your life is bland. gray.

the food that you eat, the people that you become acquainted with, the skyscrapers above you that grasp for the sky and fail to reach it — they have all become so monotone and somber and utterly lifeless. something within you gnaws at itself, aching with pain — though the sharpness of the feeling has been blunted by the passing of time — because you used to adore the city that you call home. you used to find unrivaled beauty in the skyscrapers that spread across manhattan, in the lush green parks scattered amongst the urban landscape that would turn warm and golden as summer metamorphosed into autumn, in the people that would walk by you with their unapologetic, unique fashion and confidence. the very things you used to love have dulled in hue, washes of the vibrancy you once appreciated and took significant inspiration from. 

throughout your apartment lay half-baked paintings and charcoal drawings and pieces with odd compositions from that one month where you went through a mixed media phase, staring at you with their paint-streaked eyes, mocking you. finish us, their fragmentary faces scream. they beg for you to provide them with souls, to be their maker, their creator — but not quite their god. you are not pretentious enough to go that far, to paint yourself as that self-important, that narcissistic. you are far from a god. if you were, you would be in a larger apartment, a penthouse worth millions of dollars in soho or maybe the upper east side. if you were a god, you would purchase the finest art supplies in the world, have your pieces be displayed in major galleries to be auctioned off for hundreds of thousands — no, millions of dollars by pretentious art collectors to be hung up in their gaudy mansions, their own slices of heaven. however, in reality, you fall exceptionally short of a higher being; in truth, you are a rather simple woman who had transplanted herself from her suffocating hometown to brooklyn as soon as you completed your undergraduate degree. a tiny little apartment in brooklyn, new york city, new york — an adumbration of purgatory, floating somewhere between heaven and hell. trapped, trapped, trapped. nowhere to go. 

sitting on your bed, the balls of your feet pressed against the cool wooden floor, you ponder if these thoughts, this density of emotions burrowing into your stomach, are a symptom of burnout. maybe even artist’s block, though in the past you’ve often remarked that the concept doesn’t exist. you had never experienced it, so in your sorely narrow-minded view, it simply couldn’t be possible, and other artists were simply blaming their laziness on this elusive concept. what a fool you were for ever thinking that. shame hangs like a heavy weight within your chest; who are you to criticize the experiences of other artists when you know how difficult a creative’s life can be? how could you be so insolent? 

a raging hypocrite, really, is what you think you must be. a blank, blurry stare scans over your space, the coolness of the floor spreading up into your toes. an easel in the corner, near one of the small windows that allows for a view of mostly red brick, a sliver of blue-brown water where the hudson and east rivers meet, and a few lower manhattan skyscrapers that tower high in the air across the watery expanse. it’s not that far from your bed, which sits on the wall opposite below a second window, the slightest bit larger than the other one. most of your apartment is taken up by supplies rather than actual decor, a jar of paintbrushes on your small, round dining table in the corner near your kitchen instead of a vase of flowers, works-in-progress on the walls rather than posters, pictures. 

you live and breathe art, and your entire apartment reflects that, but the oxygen is getting thinner and thinner.

even then, you’re not quite sure how long you have felt this way — it’s not as if you woke up one day and noticed the change. it wasn’t sudden like a car accident, slamming into you one second and leaving you to cope with the aftermath the next. quite the opposite, really, more akin to the tide slowly coming to shore, washing over more of your body with each incoming wave. soothing, flowing along with each ebb and flow, pulling you further and further away from the beach until you have nowhere else to go but down. 

weak fingers dig into the white comforter below you, curling into the fabric with a surging desperation — for what, you are unsure. comfort? someone to hold you? you haven’t felt the embrace of another, the warm sensation of lips pressed against your own, in an embarrassingly long time. the dating world had slipped from your hands long ago, shattering on the floor like a snow globe, your wants and hopes and desires to love and be loved soaking your lacerated feet and stinging as it enters your wounds. your mind trails to beomgyu, a fellow artist who you had met when you could afford a private studio in a warehouse one burrow over. he was fun, a sappy romantic, and he made you laugh to no end — but he ruined you. he moved across the country without warning and you’d never heard from him again, leaving you heartbroken and with questions you’d never get answers to. you wonder how he’s doing now, if san francisco is treating him well. his number is still in your phone. you should delete it. you need to delete it. you need to make dinner. you need to finish that commission. you need to do a lot of things.

you need to get out of here. 

fuck, you do. the desperation surging within your veins takes the new form of a beast, clawing its way up your throat. you need to leave the city and experience new places and see new things and—

finally, you wrench yourself off of your bed after hours of sitting there. snatching your laptop from the floor, you search. you search and search and search for something that will get you out of this city, albeit temporarily. several different trips to italy — too expensive, and too far away from here. an airbnb in florida — you’ve never been a fan of humidity, and you don’t think only seeing one city will be enough to sate you. come on, come on, there has to be something. 

and then you find it: twelve days on a train, across the country. stops in chicago, denver, san francisco, seattle, and even a national park for half a day before looping back through chicago and back to new york. this sounds…perfect. your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the price as you scroll down. for you, it’s expensive, so fucking expensive, but…

“you need to let go and enjoy life for once,” one of your friends told you at a party a few months ago, when you were experiencing a less incapacitating version of the burnout you currently face, when you had thought it was a mere blip in your unending motivation. of course, you hadn’t listened to jennifer and her sound (and moscato-induced) advice, opting to throw yourself further into your art and ultimately fail at creating anything worthwhile. you regret it now, because you feel stuck. terribly, utterly stuck — but this is your chance to change that. 

you need this; you can make the sacrifice to your already thinning bank account, you think. let go, enjoy life. let go, enjoy life — you repeat those four words over and over again as you type in your card information, as you click the button to book the trip, as you read over the confirmation email that outlines the steps you need to take before you leave. let go, enjoy life, and you will. you will, and you will relight that dimming, nearly extinguished fire within you while you’re at it. you’ll make damn sure of it. 

day one. 

your heart is pounding. the rapid ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump roars in your ears like thunder as people upon people walk past, shoving against both of your shoulders as you stand in front of a board full of green and yellow and red. the sounds of voices and rolling luggage echo across the high, transparent ceilings of the station which allow for a view of the sky above. early mornings and you do not agree with each other, and today is no exception; poorly-veiled dark circles sit beneath your eyes, illuminated by the soft, warm light streaming in from above. looking down at your phone and back up at the screen again, you find that your train is thankfully on time, the bright green letters helping loosen the tightness gathered in your shoulders as you roll them back once, twice. your teeth skirt your bottom lip while you nod to yourself, then scan the spacious building for the escalator that will take you down to the correct platform. 

you hate that you’re nervous. the feeling twists your stomach into knots and flushes your face, cheeks hot as you stand there and wait out the remaining minutes before you can board. it doesn’t even make sense — you should be happy to get out of town, to go places you’ve never been to before, but all you can focus on is the unease creeping up your throat and blooming sour on your tongue. perhaps this is actually excitement that you are feeling. maybe you’re reading it all wrong — jennifer was more than ecstatic when you told her of your impromptu trip, saying “this is what you need! this might be your breakthrough!” 

ever since you met the her, she was always a degree more optimistic than you. looking on the bright side of things, no matter what dire circumstances lay splayed out across the dealer’s table. what’s stopping you from being the same way? several things, but at the same time, jennifer is right: you need this. your hands jitter with an odd combination of excitement and fear — maybe it’s simply the thought of solo travel that is so intimidating. yeah, it has to be. it will pass soon enough — hopefully. you roughly shove your set of headphones onto your head, slipping them over your ears. music will have to do for now, if only to prevent thoughts from racing through your head. 

once you board, you learn that your quarters are…small, though that was expected. it reminds you of your studio apartment, almost; cramped, but lacking the scattered paint tubes and canvases and miscellaneous mediums that you have not laid a single finger upon in months now. the small, travel-size tubes of paint sitting in your backpack weigh your shoulders down, begging to be taken out and spread across the small, flat canvases that are tucked snugly beside them. you muffle their pleas by turning up the music streaming through your headphones. closing the door behind you, you softly hum to the current song in your ears, shoving your suitcase in the corner of the room. 

once the attendant checks your ticket, you decide to take a nap — who cares if it’s early? you barely got enough sleep last night in the first place, too nervous to allow your eyes to shut. collapsing onto your bed, you pull the curtains next to it shut and allow yourself to drift off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

*:･

you awake around noon with a growling stomach. with a sigh, you rub your tired eyes and sit up, smoothing out your rumpled shirt. after a quick look on your camera to make sure none of your mascara has transferred below your eyes, you make your way to the dining car that’s not too far from your own.

it’s nice, quaint; simply decorated like the rest, with large, square windows divided by thin pieces of wood lining each side. smaller tables line the wall to your right, two seats at each, while larger, four-person tables sit to your left. you opt for a two-seater towards the middle, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the people present. you stare out at the greenery that blurs outside the window, listening to the low rumble of the train, mindlessly thumbing the laminated menu laying on the table. while you wait for the waitress to get to your table, a light, feminine voice knocks you from your own little world.

“excuse me?” the voice asks. you flinch in response, blinking hard as you look to your left and find two women sitting at the four-seater next to you. they’re both pretty, brown-eyed with full lips curved into twin smiles. they don’t look like sisters, though — more so friends. 

“yes?” you politely say, wondering what they could want with you. the shorter-haired one’s smile grows wider once you speak. she has a rounder face than the other girl, her black bangs ending above her eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners. 

“are you waiting for anyone?” the other girl asks, the one with a long wolfcut and wide, hypnotizing eyes. definitely not sisters, you think, they look nothing alike. 

shaking your head, you softly murmur, “i’m not.”

“would you like to join us, then?” the wide-eyed one asks, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes. 

“i...i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply. your mouth curls into something apologetic, as if you’re the one burdening them despite them being the ones to ask you. this interaction feels weird, awkward, and a very large part of you wishes you could melt through the floor and disappear forever. 

“you wouldn’t!” straight black bob chimes in, hands clasped together on top of the table as she leans towards you. cheery, excitable. “we wouldn’t mind at all, really.”

you nod with a tiny, somewhat nervous grin as you take the seat closest to you, right next to wide-eyed wolfcut. you offer them your name, unsure what else to give them. your age? your profession? your deep-seated trauma? okay, definitely not that last one. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” straight black bob says, while the other chimes in with a soft hum of affirmation. “i’m chaewon.”

“and i’m sakura,” wolfcut adds with a dip of her chin.

hands placed snugly in your lap, you pick at your thumb nail. your back is stiff in the chair, and you hope they won’t notice. “it’s nice to meet you guys too. are you traveling together?” 

both of them giggle, glancing at each other for a moment before swiveling their eyes back to you. for a moment, you’re confused. why was that so funny? they look to be decent friends, at least from your limited interactions with them thus far.

“we actually just met a few minutes ago,” wolfcut — no, sakura claims. oh, so they’re not friends, then. “we ran into each other— like, quite literally ran into each other.”

“it was…kinda bad,” chaewon laughs before she takes a sip of water. “my ass is still sore.”

you huff a laugh at that, all air and no sound, and the conversation continues with a light-hearted air to it. as the minutes tick by, you learn that chaewon is a graduate student taking a gap semester, while sakura owns her own makeup line, a small business that is beginning to pick up speed thanks to social media. one lives in brooklyn—

“no way,” you gasp at chaewon. “where at?” 

sakura, meanwhile, resides in upper manhattan. even more information about them bombards your brain as all of you begin to eat, but you doubt you’ll remember most of it by tomorrow, even later today — it’s alright, though. the three of you have exchanged numbers (to create a group chat) and have basically promised to be travel buddies for the coming days. your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, grateful to find kind, welcoming people on this train — you’d think that jennifer would like them. the way they interact with each other is somewhat reminiscent of your and jennifer’s friendship. friends…yeah, you can see the three of you becoming good friends. 

“can we see some of your art?” chaewon asks, bob shifting like a wave around her head as she shakes it. oh, yeah. you had briefly mentioned your profession, though shame barred you from sharing your reasons that led you to this train in the first place. 

you cringe. “oh, well—”

“i’m sure it’s great!” she continues. “c’mon, pleaseee?”

with sparkling doe eyes and hands clasped tightly together, it’s difficult to say no — and you don’t, shaking your head a little as you pull up your instagram account. while you’re proud of the pieces you’ve posted on there, they aren’t your most emotional. those ones are saved in your camera roll, and that is where they will stay, only for your eyes (and a very few select others) to see. they coo and aw as they swipe through, your phone placed on the table between them. heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to pick at the remnants of your lunch sitting on your plate. deep down, their kind comments cause an unusual sense of guilt to invade your heart. why couldn’t you produce shit like that now? what the hell is wrong with you?

with a polite smile, you thank them and move to excuse yourself before your pathetic sense of self-pity can consume you. they seem a bit surprised by your abrupt exit, but they also take it in stride, offering to text you later for dinner. slipping from your seat, you send them a wave before setting off towards the door from which you initially came. 

*:･

you don’t know what spurred you to make a stop at your room and snatch your sketchbook from your backpack before heading to the observation car, but after a whole lot of sitting and not one speck of sketching, you kind of, sort of have started to hate yourself for that decision. 

the open page in your lap is abysmally blank. no marks, no little trees or lush fields or flowers or anything that you see speeding by outside the window. your pencil has been poised against the page for the longest time, dark gray dots scattered across the page where you would press the point of the pencil to start making a mark and subsequently give up. another hour with no progress ticks by, but you still can’t make it move. move, why won’t your hand just move? 

flipping it shut, you lean back in your seat with a deep sigh. you can’t force these things, you know that much, but that won’t stop you from trying — and failing — to produce something. you’d rather not dwell on that for too long, though. those thoughts are what got you here in the first place. instead, you allow your tense muscles to relax, your eyes to lose focus and blur, blobs of green and blue passing by your vision. soft murmurs from other passengers meld together into a wall of droning noise, soft and soothing. 

that is, until the sound of someone settling into a seat a couple away from your own pops your little bubble like a sharp, pointed pin pressing into the skin of a balloon. blinking your vision back into focus, you take a quick glance to your right and—

holy shit, he’s beautiful. a sloping nose and pink, plush lips, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model of some sort with a face like that. his dark, slightly outgrown hair frames his side profile perfectly, sweeping back towards the back of his head where it begins to curl down the back of his neck. there’s this sort of dreamy, ethereal quality to his looks, like the universe took it’s sweet time creating him, lovingly placed tiny little stars in his sable, fox-like eyes and kissed his skin with the sun’s gentle rays, a light pink dusted across his cheeks — or, at least, the one cheek that you can see. bulky headphones sit snugly over his ears as he simply watches the landscapes pass by, one long leg crossed over the other. before you register the movement of your hands, your sketchbook is flipped back open to that very same blank page you’d given up on mere moments ago, fingers gripping your pencil once more. fluid like water is how your hand moves across the page, capturing the unique shape of his eyes, his soft yet defined jawline, the slope of his neck…

for the first time in months, you lose yourself in your work, yet you don’t even register this small breakthrough. peeking back up at the beautiful stranger every once in a while, you slowly carve out his likeness on the page in front of you, begin to add his surroundings and even a background, shading with light, circular strokes as you go, building up the deposit of graphite where it is needed most, defining the shape of his pouty lips and the strong cupid’s bow that connects his top lip to his nose, mapping out the flow and shape of locks of hair with dark, daring strokes, graphite pressing hard into the page. you even add some flyways for good measure. in your frenzied bout of drawing, you have hunched over in your chair, an old habit that is rearing its ugly head now that you don’t have a standing easel to work with. straightening your aching spine, you sit back and observe your sketch, wondering if you have missed any defining details—

and when you move to look up and take in his features again, he is staring right back at you. 

oh.

oh, fuck. 

frozen in your seat, you can’t tear your gaze away from his own, a hint of concern swirling in his irises. his eyebrows raise, eyes slightly wide as he tilts his head. the corners of his pretty lips raise, parting as if about to speak — and he does.

“are you okay?”

his deep voice snaps you out of your stupor, flinching before you quickly flip your notebook shut and sent him a tight smile paired with a nod, eyes darting around to look everywhere but him. your heart just might leap out of your chest at this rate, tear open your sternum and collide with the floor. you almost wish it would. 

he’s frowning now, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “uh, are you sure—”

without another glance at him, you stand, clutch your notebook and pencil tight enough that it presses marks into your skin, and book it straight out of there with swift and featherlight steps. you don’t look back, far too embarrassed to even consider it, not stopping until you reach your room. the door is slammed shut behind you, but the nerves-induced ache in your chest won’t fade. pressing the cool backs of your hands against your fiery cheeks, you resist the urge to slap yourself. what the fuck is wrong with you? you should’ve just answered him and apologized for staring. he probably thinks you’re some creep now, with your weird little notebook and lack of verbal response — and the way you left. god, if a hole opened up and swallowed you whole, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“you are so fucking embarrassing,” you hiss, venemous words aimed straight at yourself, your head buried in your hands as you curl up on the bed. day one, day fucking one, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of someone.

maybe you should stay in here for the rest of your trip.

day two.

“...why is it so big?”

chaewon is referring to cloud gate — or, rather, what is more popularly known as the bean — a terribly ugly, silver, oversized, bean-shaped art installation that sits in chicago’s millennium park. an art installation that you, quite frankly, despise mostly due to the artist behind the work. given that anish kapoor is an elitist prick who has shit on the art world with his wealth and hates when people call his piece the bean, you take great, overwhelming satisfaction in calling it that. 

her question — paired with her furrowed eyebrows — causes you and sakura to snicker to yourselves. you’re grateful that they texted you this morning, had forced you out of your room because you actually were going to go through with your staying-in-your-room-forever plan (for today, at least). this park is your first stop of many, but you really want to get this part over with so that you don’t have to see this gargantuan, chrome bean ever again. despite its ugliness, you can admit that the slightly warped, mirrored reflection of the city that it provides is kind of interesting to look at, and it makes for some cool pictures. 

(still, fuck anish kapoor. you refuse to give that man any credit.)

you end up taking a photo of you flipping it off from afar, sending it to jennifer with a smirk before helping the other two girls with some of their own photos. here, there’s no pressure to create, only to enjoy and experience what surrounds you, no matter how tourist-y it may be. 

sakura slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to her, arm extended out to take a selfie. your hand raises in a peace sign at the camera, smile bright and wide like the sun above. there’s not an inkling of worry in your expression — until you see him. 

the guy from yesterday, standing maybe ten feet away. he dons an unbuttoned striped shirt layered over a tank top which is tucked into baggy, dark wash jeans. a thin, black belt wraps around his waist, a small camera hanging from his neck, and his hair looks as perfect as yesterday, shiny and smooth under the unobstructed sunlight. thankfully, he hasn’t noticed you, but that doesn’t stop your smile from fading, your heart from hammering within your chest as your brain cruelly replays the events of yesterday afternoon in slow motion. you can’t face him right now. what if he comes up to you? what if he confronts you for your odd behavior in front of this crowd? these are worst case scenarios, sure, but they are potential outcomes nonetheless. as he begins to turn in your direction, you whip around, slipping from under sakura’s arm as you face the two girls. 

“you guys ready to go?” you ask, masking your worry with a tight grin. don’t ask why, don’t ask why, please don’t ask why.

“yeah, sure,” chaewon nods. “i think i’ve had enough of the bean.”

“same,” sakura laughs.

“we could grab lunch, then go to the aquarium and planetarium?” you suggest, one foot beginning to tap against the concrete as you look back and forth between them. are there eyes burning into the back of your head right now? you can’t tell, but the prickling on the back of your neck is not a promising sign. they look at each other, then back to you — a phenomenon that has rapidly become a habit for them — and agree. surging forward, your hands loop around their wrists closest to you, and begin to speed walk away. far away.

“uh, girl? this is the wrong way, we’re going deeper into the park,” sakura notes, heels digging into the concrete to slow you down. she’s right, you know she’s right, but you’re not particularly keen on turning around. 

with a sheepish grin, you say, “maybe we could take a walk through the park first?”

as if on cue, chaewon’s stomach emits an audible growl. 

“nevermind, then.”

turning around, you find the stranger facing your way, and for some reason, he’s already looking at you. his eyebrows raise in recognition the moment you make eye contact. all of a sudden, you wish that you could shrivel up and die. despite this, you rip your gaze from his and push forward, turning to speak to sakura so that you aren’t forced to glance in his direction. mission: avoid the stranger who now haunts your life — success!

goodbye, the bean and the guy who you embarrassed yourself in front of. hello, chicago-style pizza. 

*:･

you’re tired.

you’re tired and slightly more broke and your legs and feet ache to hell after the copious amount of walking you’ve done, but your day still isn’t over. no, despite the setting sun and rising moon, you still have one more activity on your itinerary — clubbing, by request of your newfound friends, though even they claim that they don’t often partake in the activity. similar to them, you’re more inclined to small get-togethers with wine, food from that thai place down the street from your apartment, and a good movie, but hey, this trip is all about experiencing new things. hell, maybe you’ll even enjoy it, who knows? at least, you’re going to try to, but the pain radiating in the soles of your feet and calves has worsened due to your high heels. the dress wrapped around your body is tight and flattering in all the right places, yet the hem rides up every few minutes as you walk. 

“the pessimism isn’t cute. quit it,” you hear jennifer’s voice echo inside your head, yet another phrase she’s uttered to you in the past. fine — on the bright side, you haven’t seen that good-looking stranger since the park. bam, positivity, go you.

sakura’s arm loops around yours as you reach the club that you collectively decided on earlier. her excited squeals at the prospect of alcohol (or, rather, more alcohol, since she pregramed a bit prior to leaving the station) and dancing are enough to bring on a weak headache that spreads across your temples. ibuprofen. you desperately need ibuprofen, but vodka will do just fine too — it’s the first thing you order at the bar, a straight shot with no chaser because at this point, you don’t care. let go, enjoy life, you internalize as you toss the sharp liquor down your throat, fatigue melting away as the alcohol enters your veins. 

cheers, jennifer. you still need to text her back.

one more downed shot later, and chaewon is dragging you to the dance floor. the bass pounds in your ears and vibrates the floor as the three of you sway to the upbeat songs. droplets of sweat begin to bead along your hairline, bodies packed so close together that it’s virtually impossible not to be jostled by a stray elbow or shoulder as you dance. if you were completely sober, it would be uncomfortable, but your hazy senses allow for you to overlook the sardine can that is called a club. it’s easy to lose yourself in the warm, heady air, in the way your hips bump between chaewon’s and sakura’s. inhibitions melt away — you’re free; no expectations weighing you down, nowhere to be, no one to be. only music, flashing lights, and the new, fruity drink in your hand, courtesy of sakura. 

“gonna take a breather!” you yell into chaewon’s ear, the alcohol finally catching up to you. she nods, yells words you can’t make out into sakura’s ear, and both of them begin to follow you out of the crowd. you sip at your drink as you push your way through, ducking under swinging arms and avoiding splashing drinks. the crowd thins as you grow closer to the edge of the dance floor until only scattered groups of friends remain.

“you didn’t have to come with me, y’know,” you say as soon as you reach a slightly quieter part of the club, taking a seat in an empty booth. “i can handle myself.”

“it’s better to stick together. less dangerous,” sakura refutes. some of the glitter that sits above her eyes had drafted down to her cheeks, glinting as a beam of bright light travels over the lower half of her face. “you never know what could happen in a club.”

chewing at the neon pink straw in your drink, you nod, “that’s true.” 

as chaewon and sakura fall into conversation, their words not quite reaching your ears, you silently scan the club. the darkness is cut by wild lasers and spotlights that whirl around and catch on the faces of countless strangers, their pearly, grinning teeth glinting and disappearing back into obscurity in a flash. you continue to nibble at your straw, vision hazy around the edges and an airy sensation in your limbs, as if you could float up to the ceiling. you look up at the multicolored lights, flashes of red and green and blue bombarding your vision, then back down towards the crowd.

and yet again, you find him in your sights. 

suddenly, your vision has a crystal clear clarity to it. button-down shirt wide open to reveal his toned torso, he smoothly moves to the beat with an intoxicated smirk painted on his lips, a small glass of amber liquor in his left hand. dark, outgrown hair, plush lips, those dark, dreamy eyes — that’s him. shit, that’s definitely him. 

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmur, head collapsing into your arms on top of the cool wooden table. sakura jumps in her seat next to you, before scrambling to place a hand on your shoulder.

“are you okay?” she squeals near your ear, tacking on a worried call of your name when you don’t respond right away. honestly? you’re kind of not okay. you’re tired of encountering him at every turn and being reminded of your humiliating escape from him yesterday. you’re tired of him spotting you and sending you odd looks as if you’re the weirdest person he’s ever crossed paths with. you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re just so tired. 

you decided to go on this trip to get away from the mundanity of your day-to-day routine, to get over your spell of artist’s block and see new things, but maybe you bit off more than you can chew if you were going to allow one random person to ruin that goal for you. a random stranger shouldn’t have this much power over you. 

raising your head, you send them a half-hearted nod. “i’m fine. sorry.”

chaewon frowns, “are you about to throw up? ‘cause you look like you are.”

“you look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” sakura chimes in.

sighing, you shake your head. “i think— i think i need to use the bathroom.”

as you move to get up, they do as well — though you decide not to protest this time. there’s no point, really. your legs wobble a bit as you walk, face dropping once you notice that he is near the men’s restroom now, waiting outside right across from where you aim to go. head down, you scurry past him, ignoring how his eyes widen and his knuckles pale as he grips his drink tighter. chaewon and sakura are hot on your heels as you slip into the quiet bathroom. with the music from outside now muffled, you realize your ears are ringing. reaching a sink, you turn on the faucet and splash some water onto your face. hunched over the sink, your fingers grip the edge of the counter. deep breaths, now. deep breaths. this is likely the quickest you have ever sobered up, and the sensation is rendering you dizzy.

behind you, your friends exchange concerned looks through the mirror. sakura jumps into action first, coming up behind you and placing her hands onto your shoulders. with a gentle squeeze, she murmurs, “let’s get you back to the station.”

day three.

today, the observation car is devoid of life — and so is your body after yesterday. can you overdose by taking too much ibuprofen? you’re pretty sure that you can. 

last night is but a blur in your memory with few spots of clarity, but you do vividly remember panicking in the dimly lit bathroom as the girls fretted over whether you were going to vomit all over the floor or not. you hadn’t slept much once you returned to your room after exchanging drunken hugs with your friends, assuring them that you were, indeed, not going to throw up. after a few hours of restless sleep, you’d completely given up on proper rest — you have never slept all that well with alcohol in your system, so you’re not sure why you thought this time would be any different. 

you take a seat far away from the one you took last time. clad in your pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, you’re grateful that no one else is here to see you at your worst: slightly hungover with dark circles the size of dinner plates. your legs fold up onto the chair so that your knees sit near your chest, your arms looping around your shins, fingers laced together. a deep sigh. a long blink. though the rest of the sky remains an inky black, the horizon morphs into a deep purple, the color of eggplant, almost. perhaps a smidge lighter. 

a door opens, its hinges faintly squeaking, before subsequently clicking shut. figuring it must be someone older, you do not bother with checking who entered; most people your age aren’t up this early, especially not willingly. instead, you keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing sky, chin resting upon your knees.

footsteps near you, and you assume that they will pass, but then they don’t. rather, they stand right in front of you.

“may i sit here?”

you have heard this voice before, just two days ago. unsurprisingly, he stands a mere few feet away, clad in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, a long finger pointed towards a seat. similar to you, small dark circles sit beneath his eyes, but he somehow makes them work. once you nod, one corner of his lips twitches upward before he sits down, a singular seat separating your bodies. his gaze burns the side of your face; your arms wrap around your legs tighter, your unwavering stare pointed out the window. silence envelopes the train car, tense and suffocating. your lungs tighten, prickly thorns sprouting within the thin membranes. your bottom lip may begin to bleed if you keep chewing at it so carelessly.

he breaks it first, shatters it like glass colliding with the floor, with five words:

“i’m really hungover right now.”

your brows furrow. why is he trying to strike up a conversation with you? why do you want to answer him? 

he continues before you can formulate a response, “i saw you at that club last night — you looked a little sick. are you okay?”

“peachy,” you curtly mumble, lips pursing. of course he remembers you; you did pass by him, after all, basically sprinted into the bathroom with the grace of a bull in a china shop. he hasn’t mentioned the park, but you know damn well he remembers that too.

you can sense the frown from his tone, confusion lacing the edges like delicate lace. his question is careful, slowly intonated as if he’s scared of pissing you off. “uh, did i do something wrong?”

you shake your head, not a single glance spared in his direction thus far. he hasn’t. your attitude is a direct result of your own actions, your own rampant anxieties. a pang of guilt punches you in the gut — he does not deserve your bitchiness when he, quite frankly, has done nothing but exist in relative proximity to you. 

“you haven’t,” you reply, voice meek. your eyes trace over the short fibers of the plain carpet below your seat. “i’m just— i’m sorry.”

the low rumble of the train fills the air again, no further words spoken between the two of you. there’s no clear way to explain yourself further, but your apology is sincere; with a brief peek, you find him staring out the window.

“can i ask why you keep running away whenever you see me?” the query lacks an accusatory edge. rather, curiosity and interest cushion his voice. maybe…maybe he doesn’t find you that strange, after all.

and finally, after two days of avoiding his gaze, you swivel your head to face him. you find a tilted head, a single humorous, raised eyebrow. despite yourself, you begin to smile. “honestly?”

“i’d prefer honesty, yes,” he grins.

“i—” you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “i was embarrassed.” a grimace paints your face, dragging your brows down and twisting your lips. “after, y’know…”

“running away the first time?” he supplies.

your mouth flattens into a thin line, a hand moving up to scratch your cheek. “yeah, that.”

laughter reaches your ears, partially nasally. rolling your eyes, your mouth splits into a grin. 

“i get it. i feel like i definitely startled you, so no hard feelings.” he pauses, starry eyes widening in what you believe is realization, “i never got your name.”

easily, you supply it, cheeks flushing with heat when he offhandedly comments that it’s pretty. if he notices your sudden flustered state, he doesn’t comment on it, and despite the warmth now slithering down your neck, you feel yourself relax back into your seat, legs leaving their curled up position to cross at the ankle in front of you. then, he offers his own. yeonjun — at long last, you have put a name to his handsome face. 

out of nowhere, he asks, “have you had breakfast?” 

shaking your head, you gesture to your pajama bottoms. “not yet, i was going to grab some after i changed.”

“i don’t know, i think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable,” he chuckles. you join him. “c’mon, i saw an old guy wearing boxers and a shirt in there yesterday. i’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”

you giggle, “that’s kinda gross, but alright. let’s go.”

peering out the window again, you find that the sun has just peeked above the horizon, a wash of orange fading into blue, melting together like watercolor. smiling to yourself, you stand and begin to follow yeonjun towards the dining car.

*:･

you and yeonjun had gone your separate ways hours ago, but not without exchanging contact information. since then, he hasn’t stopped texting you, his talent at keeping any conversation going shining in direct contrast to your, well, lack of said talent. however, you do find yourself replying to him with ease — he makes it so easy to do so, mostly due to the fairly unorthodox topics he likes to bring up. currently, you’re talking about the animals that scare you the most. why? because that’s the nature of yeonjun’s conversation skills, you suppose.

another voice message pops up in your chat, about ten seconds long — one of his more obvious quirks. most of his messages are sent in this form, not that you mind. his voice is as pretty as the rest of him. heart-fluttering. okay, stop. you just met this guy. 

(jennifer always does say that you fall too easily. maybe she’s right.)

pressing play, his voice enters your left ear via your single earbud. “no because hear me out: dolphins have fooled you into thinking they’re nice. manipulated you. they literally torture their prey— and they use puffer fishes to get high! i can’t make this shit up. my fear is justified, i swear.”

under your breath, you chuckle, an elbow leaned against the dining table. after a long nap, you had texted the girls to see if they’d like to get dinner with you. of course, they said yes, but you decided to get here a bit early to grab an open table. the car is already packed as it is.

“what’re you laughing at?” unexpectedly, sakura’s head appears over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone. out of habit, you lock it, your reflections staring back at you through the black screen. as she sits next to you, chaewon, takes the seat across from you, elbows placed on the table and her hands supporting her chin. she sends you a knowing smile.

“is that your boyfriend?” she prods. the question causes your mouth to fall open for a moment before you snap it shut. 

“no!” you exclaim. “it’s just a friend.”

“sounds like a boyfriend,” sakura surmises, exchanging a conspiratory nod with the other girl. you release a groan, hands shielding your fiery hot face before you drag them up over your hair. 

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you shoot back. “we just met today.” two days ago, actually. if you can count that.

their mouths open in tandem, shock coloring their features. is this a big deal, or something? you aren’t even dating the guy. 

“you met a guy and didn’t tell us?” sakura grasps your arm with both hands, shaking the limb with a strength that shouldn’t be possible to come from her thin body. “you should’ve told us! we can be your wingwomen!”

“wingwomen?” you echo dumbly as you stare at her. wingwomen, as in, like, jennifer-style wingwomen? as in trying too hard to set you up with someone and ultimately embarrassing you in the end wingwomen? your love for jennifer knows no bounds, but she’s ruined the term for you long ago with her terrible luck. a shudder runs down your spine, and you grin nervously. “i don’t think that’s necessary.”

“of course it is! i’ve always wanted to do that for one of my friends, but they’re all taken already,” chaewon pouts, irresistible puppy dog eyes appearing. “c’mon, please?

“i doubt he’d want to date me, though? we’ve literally only talked once, so really, it’s okay.”

“once is enough,” sakura declares, suddenly tilting her body closer to yours. “tell us, is he cute? what’s his name?”

they’re obviously not going to let this go, and you have no power to really stop them. 

sighing, you officially give up, “yeonjun, and yes, i do.” unfortunately. 

chaewon claps her hands together, an audible smack! echoing from her palms. her smile is blinding, a supernova of pearly white teeth and pink, upturned lips. “perfect! we can work with that.” 

“i already have an idea: ask him to hang out tomorrow,” sakura says, and you send her an incredulous look, glancing at chaewon for a moment to find that she’s excitedly nodding along to the idea like an excitable puppy. her round eyes sure make her resemble one.

you shake your head. “i can’t do that, it’s too forward.”

rolling her eyes, sakura tosses her hands up in the air. “too forward my ass! how do you expect to bag him?”

“i don’t!”

chaewon chimes in, an open hand reaching towards you, “alright, give us your phone. we’ll text him for you.”

“absolutely not!”

ding!

it’s comical, how all three of you pivot your wide-eyed gazes to the phone clenched in your fingers. the flash of yeonjun’s name across the screen is enough to send your table into chaos. 

“open it!”

“what did he say—”

“calm down, oh my god!” you shriek, sending an apologetic look to the couple next to you when they look over. fingers fly over your keyboard until you’ve reached his contact. words, this time, no voice message. butterflies burst into your chest.

yeonjun: do you have anything planned for tmrw? 

after scanning over the message herself, sakura pokes at your shoulder. “tell him you don’t.” 

with a deep, heavy sigh, you do as she says.

[6:37 p.m.]: not yet, why?

“that’s too dry,” chaewon comments.

“shut up, i’m trying,” you hiss. it takes him a few minutes to respond, minutes in which you internally panic. was your text really too dry? in the meantime, you place your dinner order with a kind waiter that stops by, a hearty dish that you can drown your sorrows in the not-so-off chance that this goes terribly, terribly wrong. another ping sounds from your phone’s speakers, and time stops once you read what he sent. clocks stop ticking, you stop breathing, everything around you freezes.

yeonjun: do you wanna grab coffee in the morning then? :)

sakura sends you a sharp look. “i doubt he’d want to date me — are you seeing this right now? or do you need me to spell it out for you? this is a date, babe.”

“it’s not,” you counter weakly. you only (officially) met him today, so, “it’s really not.”

day four.

contrary to what sakura claimed, this is very much not a date — but you’re happy about it. 

he keeps a respectful distance between your bodies as you walk, you pay for your own coffee, and you pull your own chair out when you go to sit down. it’s simple, it’s friendly, it’s a bit awkward, but there’s some things you have to sacrifice when making new friends. the croissant you’ve decided on is on the drier side, a little too flaky. you nibble on it anyway in a poor attempt to ignore the silence that has fallen between you once again. this is why you try to meet people through other friends; at least in those situations, you have a buffer, someone who knows you and the other person well enough that they can find connections between you without having to dig. you hate digging — you’re the worst at it, hence the stifling quiet that permeates the air now.

the café is quaint, if a bit moody thanks to the lighting. outside the window, the denver street teems with people, and you decide to survey the passing strangers rather than look at the man sitting across from you. wisps of fluffy white clouds float high above, sometimes passing over the sun. you wish you had your supplies with you — this would make for a wonderful painting. 

click!

turning your head, you find yeonjun holding a camera, the lens pointed at…you? you hadn’t noticed it prior, so you are unsure where he got it from. it looks like the same one he had at the park. a bashful smile appears as soon as he places it on the table. “sorry, the lighting was perfect. can’t ever pass up a nice shot.” you study the camera for a moment, and he takes your lack of response as a sign to continue, “once i edit it, i can definitely send you a copy. do you wanna see it?”

a photographer. yeonjun is a photographer. you’re not sure why it’s taken you this long to realize. maybe because you’ve been avoiding him up until now? you think. shaking the thought away, you smile. “i’d love to see it.”

he presses a few buttons, a focused twist to his plush lips, before he’s sliding it over to your side of the table. he’s right: it was a nice shot, and while you don’t often enjoy how you look in photographs, he’s found an angle that highlights your best features as you gaze outside, a slight part to your lips and your eyes wide open, shining. the sheer amount of contrast between the dark café and your warm-lit face scratches an itch in your brain. you can see it now — the golden pigment wetting your brush before being placed on the canvas, being blended into an umber, almost black, but not quite. a splash of umber here, a hint of red there…

“is this your job?” you decide to ask. 

the sheepish expression returns in full force, but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes. he’s proud of his work. “yeah. i’m not, like, famous or anything, but i enjoy it. my mom said that when i was a baby, they put a stethoscope, a gavel, a camera, a microphone, and a test tube in front of me, and i chose the camera, so it was basically meant to be,” he chuckles, but, realizing that you’re staring at him, he pauses for moment. crimson paints the tips of his ears; it’s a color that you’re pretty sure sits in your travel set. “sorry, was that too much?”

“not at all,” you reply softly. “that’s a lovely story, yeonjun.” 

“thanks.” shyly, he bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before releasing it. a beat of quiet passes, then he’s asking, “how about you? what do you do for work?”

for some reason, the question looms over your head like a storm cloud. it’s unavoidable and dark and heavy. a bitter taste fills your mouth, different from the aftertaste of your coffee, but you try not to let your sudden drop in mood show. 

“i’m an artist, though i don’t think many people would consider me one nowadays,” you snicker, but the self-deprecating edge to your words is not lost on yeonjun. 

wrinkles form in the space between his brows. “what do you mean?” 

“i…” you trail off. you should tell him. you should rip the bandaid off and quit avoiding facing it for what it is. “i haven’t finished a piece in months. i feel stuck, almost? like nothing is resonating with me, if that makes sense. it’s the whole reason i went on this trip. it’s humiliating, not being able to draw a single thing without hating it— sorry, that’s definitely too much.” 

“no, no, you’re fine,” and he’s sincere in his reassurances. he doesn’t look at you like you’re some sort of failure for how you feel. he doesn’t spew out a hollow apology to absolve him of the weight you’ve transferred to his shoulders, nor does he seem to mind that he’s helping you burden it. his hand reaches over the table, hesitant for a moment, before his fingers curl over yours, his warm skin against yours. you stare at his hand, but you don’t move away from his touch, allowing him to give your hand a delicate squeeze. looking back up, you sit frozen under his gaze. it warms your insides, melts the icy shards solidifying in your lungs that make it hard to breathe. “none of that makes you less of an artist. it’s something every artist goes through — hell, i’ve gone through it, and it’s okay to feel that way. it’s real and it sucks to feel like you can’t accomplish anything, but there’s nothing wrong with it. eventually, it will pass on its own, but until then, it’s not a sin to lean on others for support.”

tears almost, almost prick your eyes. however, you push them down; there’s no way you’re going to cry in public, in front of him. absolutely not. he squeezes your hand one more time, his thumb brushing over yours, before pulling away. “and if no one else will listen, i will.”

“thank you,” you croak out, blinking rapidly, taking a long sip of coffee in order to buy yourself a few precious seconds to cloak your emotions. a calm veil falls over your face soon enough, and while you hate to be the one to change the subject, you feel like you should. “do you want to go on a walk? it’s too nice out to stay in here all day.”

he doesn’t question the sudden change, humming in confirmation as he scoots his chair back. “it really is nice out. do you have any other plans?”

“not really,” you say, pushing the door open. the warm breeze caresses your face. “i’m trying to be spontaneous—”

“y/n!”

sakura and chaewon appear to your left, each carrying a couple bags that look to be stuffed with clothes. you vaguely remember them mentioning going thrifting, but you didn’t know that they’d be in the same part of the city as you. chaewon comes in for a hug, whispering into your ear, “he’s cute.”

glancing up at yeonjun, sakura feigns ignorance, “who’s this?” 

thus, your friends meet the one man you’d rather keep them away from, if only to prevent their wingwomen shenanigans. you have zero clue what they have planned, but you’re sure none of it can be good. 

“we were just on our way to the botanical gardens,” chaewon sings. “if you’d like to join usss.”

wordlessly, you and yeonjun communicate, only raised eyebrows and tilted chins. somehow, you understand exactly what he’s trying to convey. do you want to? do you? i don’t mind if you don’t. alright, let’s do it.

when you do arrive at the gardens, yeonjun’s fingers find your wrist, holding you back for a moment. his free hand gestures to the camera hanging around his neck. “mind being my model for the day?”

you blink. you, his model? “oh, um. i think chae and kkura are a bit more qualified—”

“no way,” he laughs. “i’m the professional here, and i want you. no one else will do.”

i want you — god, those three, simple words send a visceral shiver down your spine. a want, a need, an overwhelming desire for…you’re not even sure, but something all-consuming blooms behind your sternum like a moonflower in the night. with a coy dip of your head, you smile to yourself, allowing the feeling to surge through your veins, consume every fiber of your being.

“alright, mr. professional. lead the way.”

*:･

it’s early in the evening when you return to the station in a giddy haze, arm looped around yeonjun’s. the photo session had been a success; by the end, you were drunk on the compliments he aimed your way, on the way he treated you like glass as he directed you into a specific pose, the fleeting sensation of his fingertips pressing into your skin burned into your memory. 

closing the door to your room, you press your back into it, squeal into your palms like you did when you were sixteen and harboring a silly little crush. because that’s all it is right now, really: a foolish crush on a man that you probably won’t see again after this trip. you can fantasize all you want, but in the end, that’s what it is. those invading negative thoughts get drowned out by the movie playing behind your eyelids — a replay of the day. you swear you can feel every touch of his skin against yours, every ray of sunshine that kissed your skin and gifted you its warmth. scurrying over to your bag, you locate your supplies. 

and you begin to paint. 

a flurry of lilacs, a blurry figure among them all, defined only by a flowing white button up and brown, wide leg trousers, black streaks of hair and nothing more. yellow daffodils and vibrant emerald sweetgrass take shape, a cerulean sky, fluffy clouds. it’s messy and you kind of hate it, but it’s something. something is on the canvas, it’s dynamic, it has character.

“okay,” you mumble, staring at the brushstrokes, going over them again and again. “okay.”

day five.

“can i draw you?” 

a spur of the moment question, borne from the golden sunset gracing his cheeks, highlighting strands of his hair. the day has passed quietly today, mostly spent in your room sketching to your heart’s content. though mostly inconsequential doodles paired with terribly cheesy words of prose that even your most romantic friends would scrunch their noses at, these exercises in creating without a specific goal in mind seem to be helping. a part of that gray fog over your world has been wafted away by an invisible hand, and everything is a bit more vibrant, closer to its true hue; while nothing about your creations are particularly special or groundbreaking, going on this trip is now beginning to prove its worth. 

yeonjun’s head tilts, and you shrug. “what? i need practice.”

“okay, as long as you promise to show me afterward,” he challenges, and you immediately shake your head. 

“i’m only going to show it to you if it turns out well,” you decide. you think back to the painting sitting in your room, still a bit wet, the paint overworked to hell. that one is staying a secret. it’s not good enough to be known by anyone else — and certainly not by him.

“then no deal.” when you give him a pleading look, he raises his hands. “i show you my pictures, you show me what’s going on in that sketchbook, it’s only fair.”

“fine,” you hiss, fishing your sketchbook from your bag. “get comfortable, and don’t even think about moving.”

“harsh.”

with a suppressed grin, you take in the planes of his face. he’s shifted to face you, intent eyes trained on you, which makes your job harder. gulping, you raise an arm, mapping out his proportions with a thumb. the process of pressing intentional marks into the page is a slow one, exacerbated by his unwavering stare. you have to look out at the mountains every once in a while to allow oxygen back into your lungs, and even then, the action proves difficult. graphite scratching paper is backed by the low murmur of other passengers in the observation car as you work, capturing the fading light that casts shadows across his face. however, your creative juices quickly run out, likely sapped by your painting escapade that extended far into the night. the shape of his eyes isn’t quite right, and no matter how much you erase and try again, there’s always a slight detail off about it. too narrow, too round, too—

the tip of the pencil snaps, the point rolling across the page and falling onto the floor. you curse under your breath. 

“is it done?” yeonjun asks, leaning forward. his hands gently take your sketchbook from your lap before you can protest, and you watch as his expression shifts from neutral to slack-jawed. 

“that’s…you’re…wow,” he starts, then never finishes. he still hasn’t torn his wide eyes away from the page, flitting around as he drinks in every miniscule detail, while you pinpoint every single thing wrong with the drawing.

“it’s bad,” you deadpan. “give it back, i need to fix it.”

he frowns. you seem to make him do that a lot. “there’s nothing to fix.”

“there’s everything to fix.”

“it’s literally a carbon copy of me,” he counters. “you’re crazy.”

“says the one who can’t see the shape of his eyes right now. the lash line isn’t straight enough at the top, the nose isn’t quite right, the hair lacks form. it’s terrible.”

for the first time since you met him, yeonjun is annoyed. eyes narrowed and dark, he locks his gaze into yours, throws away the key. you can’t move while he tosses the worn sketchbook back into your lap, a hand running through his hair, locks raising with his fingers and flopping back down into his face.

“i know what it’s like to be your own worst critic,” he says, voice soft like a lullaby, standing in direct contrast to his firm expression. “but it’s one thing to be critical of your art, and another to resent it. you’re a wonderful artist, y/n. talented isn’t enough to describe you, but negativity is going to get you nowhere. it holds you back.”

he’s right — you loathe that he is, and you more so hate how he sounds just like jennifer. your nails skirts the fraying edge of the leather cover in your laps, picking at it like you would with skin, peeling cracked flakes off to reveal a soft underbelly of lighter-colored suede. wine red versus warm tan. you feel like you’re being admonished, a child who’s misbehaved. you feel small, but at the same time, you need to hear it. you’ve been coddled enough. 

“i used to hate my stuff too, y’know. never thought it was ever that special, but that’s what made me underestimate myself. that’s what made me settle for less, that’s what made me lock my camera away in my closet for the longest time until i felt i was ‘ready’ to use it — but who was i to say i was ready? how do you know when you are? honestly, you don’t. you won’t ever know. all you can do is create and create and hope that you eventually make something that you’re proud of. until then, you keep trying, you figure out what’s working, what isn’t, and go from there. in the end, everything you create is a reflection of you, and that’s the beautiful thing about art. it bares your soul, it strips you down to the rawest parts of yourself that you may despise right now — but it’s still you. and don’t you think you deserve to give yourself some grace?”

his words strike a place deep within you, an ache beginning in the center of your chest and snaking out like the roots of a tree into your stomach and throat. you do deserve some grace, don’t you? you don’t spew venomous words towards your friends or strangers every day, yet you do it to yourself without a second thought. why? you bring yourself and your skills down any chance that you get. why? your art is merely an extension of yourself — is this how you forever want to feel whenever you are drawing? whenever you’re sculpting a piece? no, not at all. your head raises. 

“have you ever thought about becoming a public speaker?”

he lets out an incredulous scoff, but there’s still an inkling of teasing in his tone, “is that all you got from my mini speech? i thought it was amazing. life-changing, even.”

“no,” you deny with a tight-chested laugh. “but there’s not much more to add. you’ve said it all for me.”

the passing mountains are purple now, the greenery a muted magenta. in this moment, you decide the yeonjun is an enigma; untouchable, unreachable — standing too close to his bright, technicolor world would burn your muted one to the ground. if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.

but you want to touch him, you want to burn.

you want to feel alive again.

“let me draw you again,” and maybe it won’t be your best. maybe the slope of his chin will be crooked, maybe the intrinsic sparkle in his eyes won’t be quite right, but there’s a conviction present in your tone that causes him to smile.

day six.

“are you really trying to have a dick measuring contest with the seals right now?”

san francisco’s iconic pier 39 is abustle with tourists, but you and yeonjun are currently at the very back of the pier, where seals soak in the sun on little wooden docks constructed just for them. at the moment, yeonjun is trying to out-seal the seals with loud barks and hoots, mimicking their distinctive sounds. yeonjun is still making noises, people are starting to stare, and you are beginning to want to climb over the wooden fence and jump straight into the ocean. 

“yeonjun, please stop,” you plead, hands gripping the sleeve of his t-shirt, yet he doesn’t stop, honking back at the seals once they respond. you tug a bit harder. “c’mon, people are staring. the seals don’t care how loud you are, you’re not proving anything.”

“i’m proving a lot of things right now, actually,” he quips before he’s going back to making noises that are unbecoming of a human being. this feels like a cruel form of exposure therapy.

you try pulling at his sleeve again. “c’mon, yeonjun.” and again. “yeonjun!”

“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” he cackles, turning to face you. he’s close — too close to be considered platonic. his hands could come up and hold your waist right now, pull you closer into his chest. it causes you to take a step back, and it’s as if he can sense the heat radiating from your cheeks, leaning down towards you with a smirk. “you embarrassed?”

“of course i’m embarrassed,” you hiss. “how are you not?”

shaking his head, his grin grows impossibly wider. “if i buy you lunch, will you forgive me?” 

pretending to think, you look off to the side, then back to him. of course you will. “maybe.”

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs as he falls into step next to you. the air is much cooler here than at your other stops, a gray blanket of fog rolling in on the horizon that cuts into the clear blue sky. he sends you a hopeful look as he asks, “y’feeling clam chowder?”

with a tiny shrug, you confess that you’ve never had it before. with a dramatic hand placed against his chest, he gasps, “you live in the northeast, and you’ve never tried it? that has to be some sort of crime.”

chowder hut is his restaurant of choice, a circular, well, hut that sits by its lonesome across from the infamous pier. it’s a place he used to go when he lived in san jose and took day trips here with his cousins, he claims. the restaurant holds a lot of fond memories for him, this whole city does. you wonder what those memories entail.

“i got you a small one in case you don’t like it,” yeonjun says as soon as he returns with your food. a tray is placed in front of you: a round sourdough loaf carved into to create a bowl, filled with cream-colored, steaming-hot chowder thick with chunks of potatoes, pieces of bacon, and, of course, clams. digging a spoon in, you take your first bite — clean, briny, slightly sweet, bursting across your taste buds like tiny little firecrackers. your eyes widen at the taste, buzzing in delight against the spoon poised to your lips. he grins. “it’s good, right?” 

you hum in agreement, swallowing another spoonful. you’re crazy for never having tried this before. twenty-four years of living, and you had no idea what you were missing out on. you’ve missed out on a long of things, it seems, but you’re beginning to catch up on them with the help of yeonjun — as well as sakura and chaewon, of course. you could never forget about them.

“you’re forever going to be connected to clam chowder in my mind now, i hope you know that,” you say, tearing into the walls of the bread bowl. the remnants of the salty chowder have soaked into the bowl, mixing perfectly with the tanginess of the bread. yeah, you wouldn’t forget this in a million years; it’s too delicious to forget. 

“you do that too?” he asks. you send him a questioning glance. “like, connect people to food.”

“yeah, i guess i do,” you ponder. “my mom reminds me of this one dish she always made me as a kid. my best friend reminds me of wine, since that’s what we drank when we first met. it’s also her favorite. and now you…remind me of clam chowder.”

he chuckles, “great, i’ll always be the clam chowder guy to you.”

you giggle back. “it’s not a bad title to hold. you could be, i don’t know, the terrible clam chowder guy.”

“fair enough. i’ll take it,” he declares before he shoves the last piece of his bread bowl into his mouth. his cheeks puff out, similar to a chipmunk, and you resist the urge to chuckle at the image in your head. “now that i think about it, i don’t do it with just people — a lot of my fondest memories are connected to food, too. something human about it, y’know? food is its own form of love. or, at least, i think it is.”

“no, i completely agree. there’s something special about sharing food with others — it’s kinda intimate, i guess? especially if you’re cooking for someone, those are some of the most vivid memories for me.” 

nodding along with you, he’s leaning forward, elbows resting against the table. the corners of his lips quirk up. “you get it. the intimacy of it, i mean. my mom has always said that food is the best way to a person’s heart — food brings people together. it’s amazing.”

“yeah,” you beam. “it really is.”

for a moment, conversation ceases, the two of you smiling at each other, leaning forward over the table. your mouth opens to speak, but a loud caw draws your attention away from his hypnotizing eyes. you watch a seagull swoop in to harass a man that sits two tables over, his glasses skewed on his face as he tries to keep the bird from stealing his food. arms wave everywhere while the seagull screeches at him, flapping its wings on top of the man’s head. after a brief second of shock, the sight has you nearly doubling over with laughter, unflattering shrieks sounding from your throat. it takes a minute for your giggles to subside. while you wipe a tear from your lash line, you look back at him — and freeze.

he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back. you’re no longer smiling, mouth parted as you wait for him to say something, anything. he doesn’t, so you move to break the intense air brewing between you.

“is…is something wrong?” with a flinch, his eyes blink rapidly for a second, coming back into focus. he sits up straighter, leaning into the back of his chair.

“i just— nevermind. sorry, spaced out there for a second,” his chin dips towards his chest before rising again, the tips of his ears flushing cherry. he looks nervous, almost. “um, if you’re up for it later, we could grab dinner at this korean restaurant i used to go to? it reminds me a lot of my parents. i think you’d like it.” 

while you’d rather ask where his head is at right now, what he was going to say before he stopped himself so abruptly, you say, “i’d love that.”

*:･

he was right, you do like it. 

the restaurant is cozy, a little hole-in-the-wall in the heart of the city where less tourists roam. the food is delicious, flavorful meats and fluffy rice and various veggie side dishes that you can’t stop eating. as he snaps some photos of the place, he tells you the decor reminds him of restaurants in seoul, of the mom-and-pop shops he’d frequent there. that at some point or other, some of the owners would start recognizing him when he came in and gave him extra food free of charge. 

“so you lived there for a while? in korea?” you ask as you watch him some meat for the two of you to share. the action is second nature to him, each piece staying on the grill for the same amount of time, flipped only once. you bring a piece to your mouth — it’s perfectly cooked.

“i was born there, in a town near seoul,” he says through a mouthful of rice. “moved around a bit, but i lived in seoul for most of it ‘til i was eighteen. then i moved to new york for college, but dropped out after two semesters to pursue photography. it’s been six years since i moved to the states.”

“you said you lived in san jose for a while earlier.” you tilt your head at him. “when was that?”

“ah,” he starts. “i studied abroad when i was in elementary school and stayed with some family there— do you want some more meat? i can order more.”

your meat supply has dwindled down to two pieces. there’s still room in your stomach, so you nod. “sure.”

he calls over the sole server on shift, speaking to him rapidly in his native tongue. the server glances over at you for a brief second before focusing back on yeonjun. out of their entire conversation, you recognize one word: friend. it’s a term that jennifer taught you a while ago, one that has stuck with you because she now likes to jokingly call you that every now and then. an inside joke between the two of you.

when the server leaves, yeonjun is left a flustered mess. your eyebrows raise. “why’s your face so red? what’d he say?”

“nothing! it’s just from the kimchi! it’s really spicy here,” he quickly claims before he’s gulping down half a glass of water. you, quite frankly, don’t buy it for a second, but choose not to pry. 

day seven.

of course, at least one thing has to go wrong on a trip like this. mechanical problems with the train has rendered everyone stuck in the golden city until tomorrow morning, at which another train will take over the rest of the trip. the station is across the bay, so amtrak has given every passenger a voucher to pay for a night’s stay at various hotels across the city — customer’s choice, no less. to be safe, you choose the one closest to the bar chaewon and sakura want to check out tonight. once you told yeonjun where you decided to stay, he used his voucher there as well. he wants to stay near you, he says, to make it easy to find each other.

today, the girls join you and yeonjun at pier 39. they partake in bread bowls, they watch yeonjun embarrass himself at the seal docks, they send you knowing looks when he pays for your food. when yeonjun finds a street performer with a dance mat and wastes no time in starting a battle against the guy, they tell you that he’s trying to impress you.

“he’s not,” you whisper to them. “that’s just how he is. i promise.”

night begins to fall, and they suggest going to a bar for dinner, more for the drinks and not the food. you accept, and in turn, so does yeonjun — though you immediately regret not thinking the decision through more. the bar is dangerous. not in an external hazard sense, but in more of a you’re scared of getting drunk and vomiting your blossoming feelings onto his shoes type of sense. you keep your drinking to a minimum, still on your first drink an hour in. next to you, however, yeonjun is starting to collapse in on himself, hunched over the counter of the bar as his third drink kicks in. a giggle bubbles up from your throat. you never pegged him to be a lightweight. 

“let’s get you some water,” you gently suggest, a comforting hand on his shoulder. waving the bartender over, you ask for a glass, helping him sit up and take a sip. his chin falls onto your shoulder this time, eyes hazy as he looks up at you with a dopey smile. 

“you’re really pretty, did y‘know that?” he slurs, leaning further into you as an arm wraps around your waist. his barstool screeches across the floor, shifting closer to yours. you freeze as shock fills your veins, nerve endings beneath his touch on fire. he pokes your warm cheek. “s’pretty.”

you blink. hard. “yeonjun, you’re drunk—”

“no ‘m not. ’m perfectly— ‘m perfectly fine,” the words stumble out of his pouty lips drenched in fatigue, his tone whiny and petulant, as he turns in his seat to wrap his other arm around your waist, forehead now sagging against your shoulder. your body stiffens up, tense muscles frozen in place as he continues his delirious ramblings. 

“i need to go to the bathroom!” you all of sudden exclaim, attempting to pry his arms off of you. he only squeezes you tighter, whining how you can’t leave here alone. you sigh, patting his hair, “you could wait outside?”

he accepts the offer, but doesn’t remove his arm from your waist as both of you stand. despite his almost six foot tall frame, you are forced to support him as he stumbles along towards the bathrooms and pray that you don’t twist an ankle in the process. when you reach the women’s bathroom, he still doesn’t let go. 

“nooo, don’t leave meeee,” he whines, pulling you back into his chest while your hand grips the door handle. calling his name, you slip your hands beneath his and grab them to pull them off of you.

“i’ll be right back, i promise,” you say once you situate him against the wall, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging down towards his chest. you give him a worried pat on his head before disappearing into the bathroom. in reality, you do not have to go. instead, you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your blown out eyes, feeling a scorching heat encase your face and spread down towards your chest. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

you wash your hands once. twice. three times, allowing the cool water to run over your heated skin. you splash some on the back of your neck. calm down. calm the fuck down. 

you are, indeed, not able to calm the fuck down before a flurry of knocks reverbates against the door. yeonjun’s voice follows soon after, asking if he can come in, if you’re okay. “why have you been gone for so longggg? i miss you!”

“no! don’t come in!” you yell, glad that all of the stalls are vacant. making your way back over to the exit, you wrench open the door and find him standing there, fist raised in the air as if he was going to knock again. 

he blinks once. then, an impossibly wide grin splits his face. “you’re back!”

stepping forward, you allow the door to swing shut behind you. arms wrap around you once again, but this time, you stumble backwards into the wall. when you look up, his face is just above yours. 

oh.

oh, fuck. 

this feels like a repeat of day one all over again, you trapped under his gaze, but this lacks the distance of that day. the unfamiliarity with each other. his hands haven’t left your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh over your thin dress, while the wall presses into your back. you have nowhere to go, but maybe you’re more drunk than you initially thought, because his lips look very inviting right now. you watch his eyes trail down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. his eyelids hood his dark, hazy pupils. the muscles in his neck contract, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leans closer, an electric attraction between your lips. you tilt your head, eye fluttering shut, moving closer, closer…

“y/n! there you are!” 

yeonjun jumps away from you as chaewon rushes up to you. her hands find your shoulders as she cries, “kkura twisted her ankle really bad! can you help me?”

you turn your head towards yeonjun, then back to chaewon, whose wide, rounded eyes plead you to come with her. “okay,” you say softly. “let’s go.”

yeonjun follows close behind, and all you can think of is what would have happened if chaewon didn’t show up. sakura’s ankle ends up being fine, and getting her back to her hotel room isn’t too difficult given the close proximity of the hotel. 

*:･

four days. four days you have known yeonjun, but it feels like it’s been years since you met each other. that fact strikes fear into your heart, remembering that the last time that this fast burn of feelings in your heart occurred, you ended up a brokenhearted mess for months. if yeonjun is the sun, his overwhelming heat melting you down into a puddle, then beomgyu was a black hole, all-consuming and ripping pieces of you away when he abruptly up and left. you’re unsure if you can go through that again, but at the same time, yeonjun doesn’t give off the impression of a drifter who wouldn’t tell you he’s leaving until after the fact. he’s a constant, a steady fortress. reliable, enduring. 

“good night,” yeonjun murmurs, both of you standing in front of your door. 

“good night,” you parrot back, rocking back on your heels, but you don’t really want him to go. knowing that isn’t realistic, you settle for opening your arms up towards him. for the first time, he hugs you good night, his lithe arms wrapping around your waist while he presses a drunken kiss into the crown of your head, and a feeling of being home washes over you. 

day eight.

he sits closer to you now. no longer is there a gap that separates your bodies, a full chair between the two of you. now, he sits right next to you, thigh brushing against your own. his hand sometimes finds your knee, never too high on your leg, never uncomfortable. just…there, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. neither of you mention what transpired between you last night, his affectionate words, the mere centimeters that separated your lips before chaewon interrupted. nevertheless, an unspoken barrier between you has broken, its bricks torn down by the hands of intoxication — due to alcohol, but also because of each other.

the almost-kiss replays in your mind in a constant loop; the woody citrus of his cologne is still strong in your nose, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks a phantom against your skin. you want to talk about it. you want to rip open the memory like a pomegranate for the two of you to share, but you don’t. you don’t know what you would do if you ruined…whatever this is that you and him have going on. he’s become a sort of constant in your life that you don’t think you can live without. you like him; you can admit it now. what you feel is not just a mere attraction anymore, an artistic appreciation for his unique features. he brings out a brighter part of you, a part that has been buried deep into your soul over the years, beneath layers of grime and dirt and negative experiences that you won’t let go of. the gray film over your eyes has been wiped clean by him, him and his beautiful heart he so easily bares to others. his heart that is so full of love — love for being alive, love for others — you wonder if any of that love could ever be for you one day.

he watches you sketch, you let him snap photos of you doing so. you share a small bag of chips, greasy fingers brushing against each other during those times in which you both reach in tandem. for hours, you sit together in a silence that is no longer awkward, but soft and tender. shoulder against shoulder, skin against skin. words aren’t required, your actions speaking for themselves. you bask in it all.

day nine.

the space needle isn’t that impressive.

you’re sure it’s a much better experience when you’re at the top, but yeonjun shares a fear of heights with you, so there’s no way in hell either of you are going up there. instead, you stand beneath it, amongst an ever-moving sea of seattleites and tourists, and wait for chaewon and sakura to come back down from the tall building. 

at the beginning of this trip, you’d allow for a few feet of space between your bodies, but slowly, it’s diminished to a scant few inches. you don’t really register this gradual change, as natural as it was. every once in a while, his pinky brushes against yours. neither you nor yeonjun move to do anything about it, either by pulling away or linking them together — a state of limbo that is befitting for a pair of strangers falling for each other. to make the dive into the unknown or to stay on the surface where it’s safe, that is the question.

“how much longer do you think they’ll be?” you ask, staring up at the pointed top of the tower. the sky is gray today, a bit chilly, but it’s an expected sight in washington during this time of year. “i’m getting hungry.”

yeonjun huffs a laugh, lightly elbowing your bicep. “maybe we could grab something real quick. i saw this taco truck nearby—”

“y/n? is that you?”

you’d recognize that deep timbre anywhere. the man that dropped your heart on the floor and vanished from the earth before he could watch the aftermath, the man that you never wished to see ever again.

turning around, you find beomgyu.

your phone slips from your hand, clattering against the concrete — but you can’t bring yourself to check if the screen has shattered. instead, yeonjun grabs it for you, rising with it as he anxiously asks if you’re okay. you don’t answer, too busy staring at the man now standing before you. he’s changed; his shorter hair has grown out past his ears, dyed a warm brown, though his black roots are apparent; soft pastel pullovers and light jeans have been swapped out for black slacks and a dark brown leather jacket, clothing choices more mature than when you last saw him. why is he here? you thought he lived in san francisco — you would’ve been less shocked to run into him there, but in seattle? 

“i moved here a few months ago.” shit, did you say that out loud? “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i’m on a trip,” you quickly answer, no further explanation leaving your mouth. 

he nods nonchalantly. you think you see his eyes flit to yeonjun for a second. “cool, cool.” 

“yeah.” why won’t he walk away already? your feet are glued to the cement, jaw tense as you try not to cry. the memory of him texting you that he had left the city and things between you won’t work out come rushing back. why now? how can he show his face to you after all he’s done?

he nods again. “are you here for long?”

“just— just for today.”

“well, i’d love to catch up with you before you leave. i’ve missed you a lot. maybe we could grab dinner tonight?” his smile is soft, hopeful — manipulative, in a way.

“i’m actually pretty busy today,” you begin, but of course, you have no idea how to tell him no. “but maybe if i’m free later.”

“great!” he exclaims, hands now in his trouser pockets. he looks over at yeonjun again, the upward curve of his lips flattening. “i need to get going, but i’ll text you later. you still have my number, right?”

“i think so.”

“cool.” his smile grows excited. “see you later, then.” beomgyu turns to walk away with a confidence in his strut that he didn't have when he lived in new york. when he was dating you. how shameless can he be? soon enough, he disappears into the crowd. blinking, you wonder if that really just happened, turning back toward yeonjun. his jaw is set, eyes still staring at the point where beomgyu vanished. the gray clouds feel suffocating now. the cool air constricts your lungs. you want the cement to open up and swallow you when his hardened eyes turn to you.

“who was that?” yeonjun asks, tone casual, but there’s a…jealous? edge to his question. you’re looking into things too much — there’s no way he’s jealous right now. 

“...my ex,” and it hurts you to admit it. his eyes darken as he utters a soft “oh.” you sigh, “yeah.”

he won’t look at you anymore. why won’t he? you didn’t do anything wrong. you had no control over beomgyu showing up. he purses his lips. “are you gonna meet up with him?”

your head shakes on its own, words escaping before you can think about them. “i don’t know, yeonjun.” 

“okay.” biting his lip, he turns so that he faces the space needle again, stepping away from you. you feel like strangers again, an ocean of distance between you bodies. “yeah, okay.”

*:･

you don’t meet up with beomgyu.

meanwhile, yeonjun is nowhere to be found. after the beomgyu incident, the two of you waited in tense silence for your other friends to return. he then made up some lame excuse to leave, and didn’t turn back when you called his name. you haven’t seen him for the rest of the day, even when you return to the train. he won’t respond to your texts. eventually, you stop sending them; he obviously needs space for whatever reason, so you will give him it. 

the terrible, painful thought of ruining everything you had with him sits in the forefront of your mind, taunting you. the girls try to distract you, showing you silly tiktoks and youtube videos and the like, but you simply offer them a half-hearted huff each time. once you explain what transpired while they were gone, however, their tune changes a bit. 

“y/n, i’m going to be very honest, and i need you not to take it personally,” sakura replies. though your head lays on top of your folded arms, you signal that you are listening with a bob of your head. she continues, “your response wasn’t the best. it probably confused him, and now he doesn’t know if you’re still hung up on this guy or not. if one of his exes came up to him while with you, and he told you he didn’t know if he was going to meet up with them later or not, how would you feel?”

“shitty,” you mumble into your forearm. 

“exactly. so give him space for now, and when he reaches out, explain and apologize. you owe him that much.” sakura sounds just like jennifer — they’d definitely get along. 

“i know. i will.”

the waiter comes around with water, and you order a strong cocktail to go along with your dinner.

day ten.

“has he texted you back yet?” sakura asks for the thousandth time today.

when you shoot her a defeated glare, she gets her answer. no, of course he hasn’t. he hasn’t responded to you since he left. “you said to give him space.”

“yeah, but i didn’t know he’d fall off the face of the earth,” she shoots back. sighing, you tip your head back against the wall next to her bed. a lake passes outside, surrounded by tall grass and trees. small hills rise behind the blue expanse, but you don’t feel the same urge to grab your sketchbook and translate the view onto the page anymore. it’s funny, how easily one person can affect your mood, turn everything upside down with the mere lack of his presence in your life. 

“he just needs time.” chaewon opens a can of soda with a pop! and takes a sip. “maybe it affected him more than we realize.”

“‘cause that makes me feel sooo much better.” sarcasm drips from your voice. “i’m such a fucking idiot.”

there’s a half-day stop in glacier national park tomorrow. will you see him, or is he going to avoid you for the rest of this trip? will you ever see him again? the emotions that swirl within you are reminiscent of how you felt before you met him. that grayness. that sinking sensation festering in your chest that claws it’s way down into your stomach and shreds it apart. you said that you wanted to burn, you wanted it to hurt, but this feels all too fast. too much.

sakura makes a noise in disagreement. “no, it shows that he cares about you. you just have to make sure you clear things up with him, and tell him that you like—”

“if you’re going to tell me that i need to confess my feelings to him, i really don’t think i can do that.”

“why?” chaewon prods. “what’s stopping you? he obviously likes you too.”

beomgyu. beomgyu is the fucking reason why. you can’t bare your heart to someone again, lest you get hurt all over again. after all that has happened, if yeonjun doesn’t reciprocate, it will confirm your worst fears — that you aren’t built to receive love, no matter how hard you try to mold yourself into a person that is deserving. dread churns in your stomach, rises into your throat like bile, acidic and fervid, as thoughts of worst case scenarios where you pour your heart only to hear “sorry, i don’t feel the same way.” you can’t do it. you can’t allow yourself to spiral again. however, you don’t divulge your reasons for holding back, remaining silent as you trace the patterns on the ceiling. 

after a deep, shuddering sigh, you give them a three word explanation: “i don’t know.”

day eleven.

stepping off of the train into fresh air sharpens your dulled senses. the national park is beautiful, for lack of better words; thickets of trees spreading out in all directions as far as the see. the sun is rising over the mountains that stretch high above your head — you’re starting to enjoy this view more than the lifeless skyscrapers that await you back home. the train station looks more like a little lodge than an actual station, but you appreciate its quaint character. reddish-brown wood makes up the majority of the small-scale building. it looks like a place where people would spend the night in, with a warm, cozy fireplace in the wintertime, and wide open windows in the summer to allow the refreshing breeze to waft in.

meandering down the path behind the station into a field of tall grass littered with bunches of tiny, white flowers, you begin to reflect on everything that has happened on this trip. originally, you went on this stupid trip with the goal to find inspiration, and last night you had a very important realization: yeonjun is that something — you started drawing again because of him, you started looking on the bright side of things because of him, and most important of all, you fell for him. you didn’t just fall for him in the way an artist falls for their muse, no. you fell for him as a person. getting to know him has been one of the best parts of your trip, but now all of that has gone down the drain because yeonjun hasn’t responded to you in over twenty-four hours and you have not a clue what to do to try to make things right. if he doesn’t wish to speak to you, then that’s that. it’s over. whatever momentum this fleeting relationship had has been effectively pummeled into the dust that would blow away with even the gentlest of breezes. 

you wish you could appreciate this view more. your paints sit in your backpack back in your room, out of sight so that you don’t have to think about them, nor hear their pleas to be used. although you now know why you lack the drive to paint and draw and generally create once again, no clear-cut solution to your problem comes to mind. instead, you wander through the grass towards a large, squatty boulder, climb on top of it, and plop down. your knees curl up towards your chest while your arms wrap around them, fingers tracing random patterns against your shins. fatigue solidifies in your bones, but the tranquility of the early morning the quiet tucks a blanket of peace over your body, swaddling the edges around you, cocooning you in.

you sit there, taking in the sounds and sights of nature, for hours. the chirping of birds sings a melody over the whisper of trees in the breeze. a deer leaps across the open field, disappearing into the trees, her fawn following close behind. bighorn sheep graze in the distance, their circular horns reminding you of cornucopias. 

the rustle of trees and grass obscure the sound of approaching footsteps from your ears. it’s not until yeonjun begins to climb onto the boulder that you notice him. you hug your legs tighter to your body as he sits next to you, but not too close. an invisible wall separates you. he does not look remotely near your direction, his focus far out in the trees. staring at him, you wonder what to say. i’m sorry? i have feelings for you?

“i never met up with him.”

he still doesn’t spare you a glance. assuming he wants you to continue, you do. “i don’t know why i said what i said, but it was shitty of me to put you in that position, and i wanted to say that i’m sorry. i was just shocked, i guess. to see him. he ruined my perception of a lot of things, jjun.” jjun. that’s a new one. you are quite unsure where it came from, it slipped out before you could think. no matter, he’s looking at you now, and it’s your turn to look out towards the horizon. “trust, commitment, love…”

his gaze burns into your temple. you take a deep breath, fingers clenching the fabric of your jeans. “they’ve all been ruined for me. it’s hard for me to trust anyone after what he did. i’m terrified that the people i grow close to will wake up one day and leave me without a word. i’m scared that i’ll never get the closure i deserve when they do. worst of all, i’ve stopped believing that love is in the cards for me, like there has to be something wrong with me for him to have left me like that—”

“don’t. don’t you dare say that about yourself.” whipping your head around, you finally meet eyes for the first time in nearly two days. they aren't soft like they usually are when they look at you, but hardened, guarded. “there’s nothing wrong with you. you have every right to be hurt, and he’s honestly a piece of shit for doing that to you, but it’s unfair to assume that everyone that comes after him will be just like him.”

“i know, and i’m sorry. i know you’re not like him.” he doesn’t respond, and you begin to chew at the inside of your cheek. you watch an ant crawl its way across the rock beneath you. the small insect disappears over the edge. 

silence. you begin to count the seconds. one, two, three, four—

“i’m sorry for not texting you back. i just needed time to think about things. a lot of things,” he starts. “i felt weird, for some reason. didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

you offer him a tight-lipped smile. “no, i understand. i forgive you.”

important words remain unspoken, but both of you refuse to address them. instead, his hand finds yours, he links your fingers with his, and both of you peacefully watch the sheep graze across the field.

day twelve.

not everything is fixed yet. 

despite being on speaking terms again, strain pulls your relationship taut. the unspoken words from yesterday hang heavy in the air, but you can’t bring yourself to give them a voice. you want to. your voice won’t work every time you try.

sitting next to yeonjun on his bed, you scroll through various forms of social media, bookmarking work that you find particularly interesting in between catching up on your friends’ posts. jennifer has been thoroughly caught up on what’s been going on after a long overdue apology for not responding to her texts. she understood, of course she did. she’s known you long enough to know how you can shut down whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. 

“i’m proud of you for telling him. i know it’s hard for you to share, honey,” she cooed to you over the phone last night. “but you need to tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

you know that. you know damn well that once you get off this train, it may all fall apart, a budding romance distinguished by reality. there’s no security, no safety net for you to fall into if you take the leap, and while he showed you an inkling of how he felt yesterday, who’s to say he’ll feel that way tomorrow? the next day? are you willing to tear your heart open for him to consume if there’s still a chance of him throwing it away when all is said and done? 

you don’t know the answer to that question. honestly, you don’t know the answer to a lot of those questions, stuck in this state of self-imposed purgatory. to rise or fall, what is the best choice? you don’t fucking know.

“is that yours?” he asks from over your shoulder, at a ceramic piece in your feed made by one of jennifer’s acquaintances. his breath snakes warmly over the expanse of your neck due to his proximity, his head so close you could turn and just kiss him— 

stop it. 

“oh, no. um.” you shift away from him slightly. distance. some distance feels more comfortable right now. “i don’t sculpt. i just paint, and draw.”

he makes an ahhh of understanding, leaning back onto his palms, the mattress sinking down with his weight. he’s staring at you like he expects something from you. what shall you give him? when you don’t say anything further, he does. 

“can i see some of yours, then?” it’s an innocent enough request. rather than simply press on your account, your fingers move on their own until you reach your gallery. why? are you really about to bare your soul to him? you guess so, because he’s gently taking your phone from your fingers after gaining quiet permission from you. 

he asks you questions as he pulls up certain pieces. the thought process behind each one, what made you do this, place that color there, how you came up with the composition, what the meaning of it all is. you try your best to explain each one. sometimes, your choices were the product of spontaneity. you thought yellow would look nice at that spot, so you put some there. her nose is crooked because it gives the piece more character. the color of the drapes in the background are blue for no particular reason other than the fact that your reference photo had blue drapes. you continue in a cycle of question, answer, question, answer, and some of your answers are more emotional than others. you remember where you were, both physically and mentally, when making all of these. you remember the ones you made when you were having a bad day, the ones where you felt like you were on the top of the world. 

then, he pulls up one that you wish he didn’t. it was buried so deep into your gallery that you have no idea how he found it — your most dreaded hyperrealism piece: a woman lays on her back, hair fading into the foreboding, void-like background. her face is twisted up into an abject sadness, a deep-seated pain that even now, you have no idea how you captured so vividly. her veiny left hand is splayed next to her head, thin crimson threads tied to each finger so tight that she has begun to bleed. the strings fall limp beside her, severed from their counterparts that meander off of the canvas. more red threads loop their way around her neck, pulled taut as if to choke her — and to her throat, she holds a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, hand gripping the metal tight enough to pale her knuckles. 

it’s dark. it’s terribly dark and you wish he never saw it. why did he have to see it? why did he have to choose that one? the world tilts on its axis as he stares down at the picture of your most soul-baring work, though you think it would be worse if he saw the actual painting in person.

“what’s the story behind this one?” he asks quietly. your lungs expel all air, and you’re left gaping for more. breathe, come on, you have to breathe. your inhale is shaky, shuddered. breathe. say something.

“that one…” your voice trails off into something quiet. scared. “i made it when i was in a really— really dark place mentally, um. i made it mostly because—”

he’s looking at you now, concern shining in his irises, but you push on. 

“because i stopped believing in fate.”

while you could say more, you stop yourself there. you hate digging — digging into your deepest fears and emotions that you keep locked behind a wall so that you never have to feel them. a pandora’s box sits in the center of your heart, wrapped with chains to keep them imprisoned. somehow, though, you think yeonjun knows what you really want to say: you meeting each other wasn’t fate to you, but a gross series of coincidences, and when he asks if you think so, you simply nod.

“but out of everyone on this train, i met you. i got to know you — shouldn’t that mean something? can’t that be considered fate?” he presses. something akin to desperation laces his words, an urgency you’ve never heard from him. 

it sure feels like fate, doesn’t it? after all of those times that you ran into him, how he found you in the observation car when it was just you in there, how your feelings have unfolded like taking apart a paper crane in the short nine days you have known each other — it feels like it should be fate, you want to admit that all of it does seem like the universe’s divine intervention. maybe you running away was really just you trying to deny your fate to meet yeonjun while on this train. maybe him finding you was fate, an apology from whatever is above for what they put you through a year and a half ago.

“i think—” you hesitate. “i think so. it’s hard for it not to when i feel like i’ve known you my entire life.”

and you sit there and he’s smiling at you like you just created the earth with your bare hands. chicago passes outside the window. the sun shines high in the sky over the high rises, glints across glass panes and into his room. all you have is one more day on this train, and most of it will be spent sleeping tonight. he’ll wait for you tomorrow, right? would he wait for you forever?

“you know, i tell most people that my name is daniel.”

tilting your head, you echo, “daniel?” 

he hums as he scoots a bit closer, planting his feet on the floor next to yours and leaning forward. his knees support his elbows as he stares down at the floor. “it’s my english name. i used it when i was in college, i use it for my work, but for some reason, when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew you’d become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name — the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.”

“oh.” why does your chest feel so tight right now? 

he sucks his lips behind his teeth for a moment. “yeah.”

sitting there, you wonder how you should respond to that. words expelled like an exhale of air, colliding with each other in front of your eyes, unable to be unscrambled by your mind. this time, it’s you who reaches over, closing the distance between you with a hand over his. his palm flips open to meet your own, your fingers linking together like matching puzzle pieces. you take a deep breath, and squeeze. 

“thank you,” you whisper. thank you for being here. thank you for helping me find myself again.

day twelve (point five). 

“i’m gonna miss you guys so much!” 

chaewon is basically on the verge of tears at this point, constantly blubbering how she is going to miss hanging out with you every day as she pulls you and sakura in for a hug over and over again. sakura laughs as she pulls away for the thousandth time this afternoon. “girl, it’s gonna be okay. we’re gonna meet up for coffee soon, right?”

she looks towards you, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “right. i’ll invite my friend too. she said she’d love to meet you guys.” 

chaewon’s pout doesn’t vanish, but she looks a little less emotional after all of your reassurances. blinking back the remnants of her tears, she nods with a watery “okay.”

you bring her in for one more hug while sakura asks, “have you seen him yet?” 

“no, i haven’t heard from him since last night.” your teeth worry your bottom lip, peeling a piece of raised skin off. the sensation stings. 

her lips purse sympathetically, a hand being placed on your shoulder. “i doubt he’d leave without saying something to you, don’t worry. he has to be around here somewhere.”

“yeah, you’re probably right.” as chaewon pulls away, you check your phone again. no texts or calls yet. doubt ricochets around in your brain, but you know yeonjun; he wouldn’t do that to you. 

“i’d love to wait with you, but my manufacturer is pissed i didn’t call them back yesterday, so i should get going,” sakura admits with an apologetic smile. her fingers squeeze your shoulder one time before her arm drops back to her side. 

“i should go too,” chaewon sadly adds, kicked puppy eyes in full effect. “my cat is waiting for me. my friend said she was a little demon the whole time i was gone.”

“it’s okay,” you laugh, shooing them away jokingly. “you guys can go. i’ll be fine.” 

with a last group hug, they grab their suitcases and head towards the hallway that connects the train station to the subway lines. sakura twirls around, walking backwards as she calls, “keep us updated! we need to know everything,”

“of course!” you yell back, grin widening. chaewon turns back too to wave, and you wave back. eventually, the crowd swallows them up, and you are left alone to wait. a few minutes pass, and you realize that this sea of people will likely make it impossible for either of you to find each other. his contact is pulled up on your phone, your thumb hovering the call button. you look around one more time—

and he’s standing right there, mere feet in front of you, in all of his glory, long hair still flopping into his face, eyes still dreamy and all-consuming. you stand there for a moment, simply staring at each other with stupid, goofy grins overtaking your faces. long legs carry him over to you, and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in his arms and pulled into his strong chest. you bury your head into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“thank god,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “i thought you might have left already.”

pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous stare. “what in the world made you think that? i was waiting for you.”

his ears tint an opaque red, the raised apples of his cheeks flushed a similar hue. he’s bewitching, and despite knowing that since the very first day — the day that you drew him for the first time — there’s so much more to him than looks to you now. he’s beautiful in both body and soul, in heart and head. one hand removes itself from your middle to cup your jaw, steadying your gaze with yours. your heart pounds, knees weak like a newborn doe’s as he stares deep into your eyes. blinding are the emotions swirling in his dark irises, but it doesn’t burn anymore. it’s more like the caress of the sun in the springtime, bright yet gentle in its own right. 

“this feels long overdue for me to say,” he begins, eyes closing as if to steel himself. when he opens them again, resolve has been added to the mix. “but i have feelings for you. i’ve never fallen for someone so quickly. i’ve never met someone like you, and i just— i knew, from the very day that i saw you, that we’d have something to do with each other. and then we kept running into each other, and i just thought wow, this has to be—”

“yeonjun,” you call, interrupting his ramblings. he pauses, eyes wide and anticipatory, as your hand moves up to cover his on your jaw. you can’t help the tremble in your lips as you speak. “i feel the same way.”

his lips purse, hiding a smile, before he surges forward and embraces you for a second time. the pure, unadulterated joy that the action brings you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you’re almost…sad, when he pulls away.

“can i take you out on a date?”

the question throws you off kilter, and you have to catch yourself before you fall face first into his chest. “like, right now? with our suitcases and everything?”

“i’ve done much worse,” he chuckles, ruffling his hair, only for the locks to fall back down into his eyes. “but i meant later today, maybe? around six? i have to go take care of some things i neglected before i left.” 

“that sounds wonderful,” you gush. despite your best efforts in keeping your excitement to a minimum, you bounce up onto your toes for second, heels sinking back onto the floor. you swear he mumbles a quiet “cute” under his breath before he’s slipping his hand into yours.

“perfect,” he beams, before he playfully continues. “shall we be off to the subway then, my lady?”

giggling, you fall into step next to him, your arm swinging with his between you. “we shall.”

*:･

he’s right on time to pick you up, dressed casually but not too casually. a cool beige, short-sleeved button-up is tucked into a pair of straight-legged black jeans that stop at his waist. the chunky converse on his feet cause him to be a bit taller than usual. evidently, he is distracted by his phone, head ducked down as he waits for you to show up.

“yeonjun!” you call out, causing his head to snap up. once he does, you find that he’s somewhat styled his hair back — most of it has been swooped back towards his ears. a few strands fall into his face, but his forehead is fully exposed, and he looks…amazing. sometimes, you wish you were a poet instead, because then you’d have the words describe what you were feeling, what you were seeing. his jaw drops at the sight of you, dolled up in a jean skirt and frilly tank top over a thin long sleeve, your makeup soft and flattering to your features. 

“hi,” he breathes, and you repeat the greeting back to him. “you look…wow.”

“thanks,” you, biting your glossy lip. as his focus flits down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh, you shyly smile, releasing it. a shock runs through you, new and carnal and it warms your stomach when he bites down on his own lip for a split second. “um, i know we didn’t really talk about where we were going to go, but there’s a thai place down the street from here, if you wanna go there? it’s my favorite.”

“of course,” he accepts, offering his arm to you. you loop your own through, standing close to him with your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow. “lead the way.”

now that neither of you feel the need to skirt around your feelings, silence no longer lingers between pauses in conversation — both of you are able to pick it back up with ease. you meant it when you said that you feel like you’ve known him your whole life, and it reflects in the way you banter with him without worry or care. it’s…nice, freeing, not having to think too hard about what you’re about to say. natural. everything with him feels so natural. 

when both of you are sated, in both terms of food and conversation, he offers to walk you back to your apartment. the sun is beginning to set, and the sky has faded into a wash of rosy pink. the hue reflects the giddy feeling churning in your chest, rendering you light-headed and dizzy and fuck you just want to kiss him—

and he does. standing in front of your apartment building, he swoops down and captures your lips with his. slow, unhurried, his lips taste sweet like thai tea and are as soft as clouds. no one leads the other, no one moves to deepen the kiss. no, instead, you and yeonjun savor the taste of each other, the syrupy, vertiginous feeling of your first kiss together. when he pulls away, his lips have a slightly swollen quality to them, though you’re sure own look the same. you don’t want him to leave yet. you want more, you want something carnal and irrepressible that, by the way he’s looking at you, he wants too. playing with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, you pant against his lips. “come inside with me, please?”

soft eyes darken, and he takes your breath away once more with another kiss, hands squeezing your waist. once he separates your lips from his, he rests his forehead against yours. nerves flutter in your stomach. “okay.” 

you find it terribly difficult to keep your hands off of him as you unlock your door, as it shuts behind you. for a minute, you stand there, waiting for something, anything to happen — then he’s crowding you in against your door and his lips are on your again. although there remains an air of softness, urgency fills the gaps where your lips don’t quite meet as they meld together, his tongue slipping into your mouth to curl with your own. your shoulder blades press into the cool wood of your door, the warmth of his body against your front a dizzying contrast to your scattered mind — but you want more. you want him.

when he slips a knee between your legs and knocks them apart, you let him. when he presses that knee into your core, encourages you to grind against it, you let him, you listen. whining into his mouth, you tug at his shirt, at his belt loops, his hair — anything you can get your hands on, you’re pulling at it, grinding down harder as his jeans rub your soaked panties against your aching pearl. a cry rips itself from your throat, mouth leaving as your head is thrown back against the door. “y-yeonjun—”

“patience, love. i’m gonna make you feel good,” he mumbles as he ravages your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. his hands have snuck beneath your shirt and smooth over your stomach up to the cups of your bra, squeezing the flesh over the fabric. as you raise you arms, he helps you pull your top off, the article thrown onto the floor without ceremony or care. his hands loop behind your back, fiddling with your bra clasp. “can i?”

“please,” you keen, and he wastes no time in doing so, expert fingers sliding the straps down your arms until your bra, too, lays on the floor. lips find your right nipple, enveloping the pebbled flesh in a warm wetness that causes your back to arch into him. one hand pulls you into him, while the other tweaks your other tit. his teeth graze it, and the stinging edge of painful pleasure causes you to shiver. he hums, vibrations causing you to moan his name louder, plead for him to do more. leaving your breast, his mouth kisses and laps at the skin of your stomach. down, down, down, until he drops to his knees in front of you, swiftly unzipping your skirt and pulling it off of you. lips find your thighs, biting down lightly, and you squeak, hand finding his hair and pulling. he looks up at your through his lashes, absolutely depraved and almost drooling for more. you gulp, legs almost giving out under you as you smooth your hand over his hair, pushing the strands that have fallen into his face back. “can we— can we move to the bed?”

immediately, he stands, pulling you behind him before he’s placing you onto the edge of your bed with great care. before he can fall to his knees again, you curl your shaking fingers into his shirt. “take this off? i wanna see you.”

with a huff of a chuckle, he does as you ask, revealing a toned stomach, broad shoulders, muscled arms. your tongue darts across your lips as you drink him in, causing him to smirk. “like what you see, pretty?”

“y-yes,” you stutter out, quiet and wanting and full of lecherous need. your thighs attempt to squeeze together in order to provide some relief to your pulsating core, but his legs stop them from fully closing. his fingers find your jaw, squeezing the flesh. your cheeks heat up. 

“so fucking cute.” the praise sends a white hot streak through your stomach and into your center. your face is on absolute fire now, vision growing hazy around the edges as you watch him sink down between your thighs, your panties quickly discarded to reveal your center to his eyes. two fingers trace your folds before dipping beneath them to find your entrance. his eyes widen at what he finds, fingers coming back up coated in your wetness, glinting against his fingertips and knuckles in the light streaming in through your windows. “you’re so wet, baby. this all for me? a little kissing got you this needy?”

“mhm— oh,” you gasp when he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking on them lewdly as he refuses to tear his gaze from yours. he moans at your taste, hot tongue swiping up the remnants that accidentally smeared onto the corner of his lips once he removes his fingers. his smirk returns, hands sliding under your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth. you sit up on your elbows to watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, hands holding you open for him. there’s nowhere for you to hide, as he traces your folds with his tongue, dipping into your entrance and swiping up to your clit. crying out, your fingers find his hair in an ironclad grip. he groans against your pearl, your hips bucking up into his face before his arms snake around each thigh and hold you still. he alternates between circling the bud with his tongue and sucking it between his plush lips, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as he loses himself in your taste. meanwhile, you’re already so close to the edge, you can feel your walls begin to clench around nothing, your hips jumping up as far as he allows. as he dips down to your entrance, his nose bumps against your clit, but his tongue is back in no time to continue its assault on your poor little clit. “jjun, ‘m gonna, please, ‘m gonna—”

“cum,” he mumbles against you. “cum f’me, pretty girl.”

with his permission, your head falls onto your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision spots white. cries pour from your lips like honey for him to drink, but you never quite come down fully. rather, he keeps circling his tongue against your clit through your high, and as your orgasm subsides, another one already begins to build. tears prick your eyes as you plead, “jjun, no, can’t, i can’t, nonono— i can’t!”

“yes, you can,” he murmurs, removing his arm from your right thigh. his lips don’t leave your clit as you feel two fingers slip into your soaked entrance, smoothly thrusting in and out and curling up into your upper wall until he finds that soft spot inside you that has your voice shattering into shards of moans and staccato wails. he groans against you as he feels your walls clench, the pace of his fingers unforgiving as he coaxes another mind-shattering orgasm from your body. your fingers flutter around his walls, watery hiccups torn from your throat. this time, he slows down, helps you ride out your high, before he removes his fingers, licking his lips of your essence as he does. climbing onto the bed, he hovers over you, taking in your spit-slick lips and tear-lined eyes. he wipes the tears away with gentle motions, cooing when you whine. he sits there until you come back to him, lucidity shining in your eyes as you blink them open. smiling, you pull him in for a languid kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away. 

when he caresses your cheek with his thumb, asking you if you’re okay, you lean into his touch, “mhm, want you to fuck me.”

“i can do that,” he laughs, causing you to reciprocate. standing, he slips his jeans and boxers down his thighs until he’s left in nothing, hardened cock veiny and flushed an angry red. you think it’s an average length, on the thicker side, the girth causing your mouth to water. as he runs his hands up your thighs, he asks, “d’you have any condoms, love?”

while you’d rather him fuck you raw, you know it’s safer this way. you point towards your nightstand. “there.”

as he fetches one, you scoot into the middle of the bed, watching him roll it on before he returns between your thighs, pumping his cock once, twice, lining it up with your entrance. his free hand grips your waist, watching as you move your hips to try to slide him into you. smirking, he presses his hips forward, cockhead dipping past your entrance. both of you moan at the sensation. slowly, he works his cock into you, little rolls of his hips until he’s seated fully within you, hips flush against your pelvis. 

“move,” you whine. “please move.” and that’s all it takes for him to swiftly pull out and slide back in again. as he thrusts into you again and again, his movements grow rougher, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot each time. moaning, you reach up towards him, forcing him to lean over you so you can kiss him again, swallowing each other’s sounds. he’s just as loud as you, praises falling naturally between his breathy moans. 

“feel s’good, baby. so fuckin’ tight and wet f’me. so unreal. d’you feel good, too?” he coos against the shell of your ear, warm breath curling against your necks. your walls clench around him at his desperate sounds.

“s-so good, jjunie,” you hum, feeling your third high of the night approaching. the knot in your stomach grows tighter as his thrusts grow sloppy, chasing his high as much as you are. a thumb moves down to rub your sensitive clit, quick little circles against the bud until your limbs are locking up, quaking as you finally cum around him. a few seconds later, his high hits him as well, his hips quivering as he spills into the rubber with a loud groan. 

slowly, he pulls out, ridding himself of the condom and soon returning to the bed to plop down next to you. arms pull you in close as you both pant and grin tiredly at each other, basking in the quiet that permeates the air, and he stares at you, dulcet eyes boring into yours. 

“what’re you thinking about?” you decide to ask, poking the center of his sweat-beaded forehead. taking a moment to respond, he pulls you even closer so that your noses almost touch. 

“it’s just— there’s this concept in korean — inyeon,” the timbre of his voice raises slightly as he switches to his native tongue, and lowers again when he switches back to english. “that, um, it means…”

his cheeks are growing the slightest bit pink, a shade that reflects the cotton candy clouds that float past your windows. squeezing his hand, you silently urge him to continue, soft gaze finding his own. a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek, his jaw, naked skin pressed against naked skin. together, whole, one.

he starts again, “there’s no direct translation, but it basically is fate. strings of fate. i truly believe the universe has connected us in some way, whether it be through some invisible red string or another force. and i know, i know what you said about fate, but i can’t stop thinking about how we found each other. there’s something beautiful about starting off as strangers and getting here. i don’t know, i’m just rambling at this point,” he chuckles, burying his nose into the pillow under his head. “i’ve just never felt this way about someone before. i’m sorry.”

with a gentle hand, you cup the side of his face, forcing him to look back at you. “don’t be sorry, that’s beautiful, and i think—” you sigh, blinking back tears that threaten to fall. “i think you’ve changed my mind about fate. i’ve also never felt this way about someone before. i feel like you know me on some level that no one else does. you just. you just get it, and i—” 

you don’t think this is quite love yet, but you believe what you’re feeling within your chest, tingling all over your body, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to it. he smiles, whispers a small, soft, “i know,” and lips find lips once more. hands find hands, and you feel alive. you feel like everything that you see is now in vivid technicolor, no longer masked by a veil of gray.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that you’re going to start a new painting.

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[amoreva]

FEIGNING FOR YA

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CHAPTER 2

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: the first signs of acknowledgement from your family about your relationship and planning and…Luke is a good fake boyfriend!

warnings: not proofread! slow burn, college au, smau, fake dating to dating, cursing, clarisse x chris, aged up! pjo charcters, yn is older sister figure to percy, luke and thalia are older sibling figures to annabeth, drinking

a/n: inspired by charlie’s recent boxing photos! ik it may be a little choppy, but i wanted to put smthg out there before i go on my trip. comments and feedbacks about writing are much appreciated!

series list | next

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Ding!

A passive aggressive text shows up on your lock screen from Aunt Shelley. You were out with Silena, Clarisse and Thalia when the first signs of acknowledgment of your new relationship shows up.

The photo of your friend group covered by (now) two texts from Aunt Shelley:

Aunt Shelley

I wish you would tell us about this boy of yours before announcing it to the whole world.

3m ago

Kidding! He seems lovely.

1m ago

She was not kidding.

You sent back a short text, making up some excuse about why you haven’t said anything. Sure, you hard-launched the “relationship” intending for your family to see, but that backfired. Kind of.

Most of them didn’t care about social media yet they insisted on following you when you made an account.

Aunt Shelley

Tell him to buy brighter clothes for Easter!

now

At least they didn’t seem to recognize Luke’s mop of curls. Luke has only been to your house once in high school in freshman year. Well, Luke had matured since then and he did gain some meat on his bones. You wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t recognize him.

“Their reactions will be funnier when I introduce myself.” Luke mumbled with closed eyes. An arm wrapped around you abdomen. His thumb rubbing your side. Cheek pressed against your shoulder as he listened to you.

He insisted on taking a nap at your dorm to strengthen the image of your faux relationship, totally not because he was escaping his frat’s latest activities. It was something like a date auction or car wash.

“Do you plan on listening to my Aunt?” You asked, referring to Luke’s closet.

“Fuck, no.” Luke answered with ease.

“Will you at least be civil?” You asked and nudged your shoulder against his head.

Luke picked up his head and looked at you. “We’re supposed to be rebelling. Pissing off your parents for being judgy and shitty and what not.”

Honestly, you were hesitant on “rebelling”. Sure, it was just bringing Luke over and dating him because your parents hate him. But, you didn’t want your parents to hate you for being disrespectful nor rude.

Luke noticed your hesitation. He sighed through his nose. “Fine. I’ll play nice.” He laid his head back on your shoulder. “But you owe me take out if the food is bad over there.”

Believe it or not, Luke had become more docile. His touch more gentle and caring. His pocket always had chapstick now that he had a “girlfriend” again. Was he always like this with his other girlfriends?

You been there everytime Luke was in and out of relationships, but you never seen how he acted with his significant others.

And thankfully, being in a fake relationship with Luke was quite easy. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands. It was practically the normal platonic chemistry, just add cheek kisses, holding hands and flirting. No butterflies appeared and no hands got sweaty around him.

Perfect.

Because thinking about your best friend in romantic sense was the wrong pathway to go. It’s not like you have, just…think about all the movies and books. Usually they never ended well (you think).

“Charlie knows I called it. I knew it!” Silena exaggerated pridefully. Both of you were walking to your Art History Class. “The way you guys would look at each other and—gosh…I still can’t believe it.”

You laughed at your friend’s delusional nature. You can’t exactly pinpoint a time when Luke and you gave each other a look before this contract, but whatever helps Silena sleep at night.

The two of you sit at your usual seats and wait for the rest of the students to trickle in.

Ding!

Mom

Your father and I are very excited to meet this new boyfriend of yours!

now

You wondered if she remembered Luke. He did leave an impression on her. The first time Luke met your mother, he was a little excited and rowdy because you and him were going to stream a new movie that left theaters.

Your mother hated when the quiet in the house was broken when Luke and you were excitingly talking. “You’re like a fly, disrupting this environment.” She scoffed from the dining room and went upstairs to her room.

Safe to say, you hung out at Luke’s house from that day forward (you just gave him your Netflix password). Thankfully, Luke didn’t feel too hurt.

“Oh! I know.” Silena placed her notebook on the table. A suggestive grin on her face. “There’s this party we can go to and celebrate you lovebirds!”

“Silena, that’s not really necessary—”

“You gotta see it for yourself though!”

“See what?”

“That twinkle in their eyes.”

“What?”

The professor entered the lecture hall and began the lesson on art from the transcendentalist period. Twinkle? What twinkle? Like the stuff that romance novels describe when a character falls in love? Come on, that can’t be real.

“Like romance book twinkle?” You leaned over and whispered to Selene. She smiled knowing she had you hooked. Her pencil moved as she talked.

“Like when you get dressed for a party or a date and…and…” She tore her eyes away from you to look if she spelled a word right in her notes. “…they get that first look and their eyes light up like you’re their whole world.”

Your professor called you and Silena out for talking and the both of you quickly write down the notes. Though you both continue the conversation.

“Listen, our friend group doesn’t have to go party or go to a bar. Just suggest a date with Luke tonight and watch his eyes when you’re in your date night outfit.” Silena and you walk to the gym, scanning your ID and going through the turnstiles.

You look at your phone again.

Luke<3

boxing with beckendorf

13m ago

Silena and you walked towards the destination. The familiar black compression shirt and mop of chocolate curls appearing in your field of vision. His gray sweat matching his top.

Beckendorf was spotting Luke as he hit the punching bag in calculated movements. He shifted his weight between his two feet and with laser focus the material of the worn out glove made contact. Beckendorf grunted quietly. Luke could pack a punch.

It was kinda hot.

“Charlie!” Silena disrupted the practice to go hug her sweaty boyfriend. Luke and him must’ve have been taken turns hitting the punching bag.

Luke turned in your direction. A slow smile spread across his fast. He was quick to get his gloves off before greeting you with a forehead kiss. “Hey beautiful.” His hands resting on your waist.

If your next boyfriend wasn’t meeting the same standards as Luke was right now, you didn’t want him. Luke was practically the perfect boyfriend.

“We should go on a date tonight.” You suggested, obviously curious about this “twinkle” Silena was talking about.

Luke grabbed his gym bag and put away his boxing gloves. You grabbed him a white towel to wipe off his sweat. “Yeah? For what?” He drank some water and tossed his gym bag on his shoulder. “Your family being shitty to you again?”

Silena and Beckendorf said quick goodbyes and left the gym. You took out your body spray and spritzed Luke with it a couple of times. “No…” You made sure Silena and Beckendorf were gone. “Easter. We need to talk about Easter with my family?”

“What is there to talk about?” Luke asked and sat down on the wooden bench. You joined him. His musk covered by your body spray.

“I don’t know…like—” You paused trying to get the words out. “What we should do if like—my mother asks some stupid question. Or my aunt flirts with you or if my family ask you to prove we’re dating.”

“You’re not trying to get me to take you out and get you food are you?” Luke nudged your shoulder and teased.

“Yes.” You stated bluntly. “But more importantly, Easter.”

Luke and you decide to go out to dinner at a diner nearby. You made him shower and change first before anything. While he was at his dorm, you were struggling to pick and outfit to successful procure a twinkle.

You stood in front of your mirror, looking at your reflection. Clarisse was on her bed, reading a book for her English class. Though she got distracted by you numerous times.

After what it felt like the umpteenth time putting on different jeans and skirts and some sort of clothing combination, Clarisse pulled her headphones away from her ears. She could feel your frustration and dilemma. The hot-tempered girl was in your shoes once.

“Wear something casual, but cute.” Clarisse suggested and scanned her eyes over the clothes scattered on the floor.

“Like that with…that.” The articles of clothing made sense together, but would it give that twinkle you were curious about. It would have to do for now.

“When’s he picking you up?” Clarisse sat up. “I promise you, you’re overthinking this. It’ll be fine.”

You look at her after changing into the clothes she picked out. “I know, I just—what if this doesn’t work out?” Of course, you had in the rebelling against your parents with this relationship, but to Clarisse—you looked worried about your relationship with Luke.

“It will.” Clarisse reassured. “You’ve been best friends for how long?”

A couple of knocks rapped against your door. Clarisse gestured for you to take a deep breath before she went back to reading. You stalked over to the door and opened it.

“Go change.” You immediately stated upon seeing his shirt.

In big bright white letters, his shirt read “I <3 my girlfriend.” Forgot the twinkle, that stupid t-shirt was going to haunt you forever if you let Luke go out in that.

“What, why?” Luke whined, knowing exactly why.

“Luke! Go change or—or…” You hesitated to find a right threat.

“Helpful hint, sweetheart. If you’re going to threaten me, find a viable threat before you start it.” Luke called out and went to change.

You were going to strangle him. Maybe this relationship won’t be as easy managing as you thought. You were praying Easter will go how it’s planned or at least work in pissing off your parents.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

taglist:

@happy-mushrooms @m00ng4z3r @justanotherkpopstanlol @2hiigh2cry @celluifleur @thatbird-fromrio @yuminako @pookiebear16 @mxtokko @cxcillia @kai-islost @kidkrowk @iluvpjo

[beatleskinkmeme]

Summer of Love Fanworks-a-thon Master Post

Please check out these fanworks and leave a comment!

Grateful for him by @johangeorghohman

5 + 1 things, 5 times George wished that Paul never met John (because George has a big fat schoolboy crush on Paul) + 1 time he was grateful that they did met

everything to be discovered by @backbenttulips

John and Paul exploring a romantic relationship with each other during the 2000s-2010s, and navigating life as famous old people and grandparents.

the size of a loneliness by @backbenttulips

Brian survives his overdose in 1967. John and Paul come stay to make sure he gets better, taking care of him in their own emotionally inept way.

Knocking at Your Door by @eveepe

5+1 fic. When they’re kids George learns that an easy way to calm Paul down when he’s getting the horrors is to give him a quick little kiss on the mouth. It becomes his go to method to soothe Paul when he needs to.

I Fancy Me Chances With You by @hootiepgh

Paul participates in a charity auction during the 70s. “Bid on a date with Paul McCartney” John pays an absurd amount of money to win. Paul is shocked. They go on the date and they’re both very awkward, neither are sure why John paid so much and what it entails.

I'll Never Do You No Harm by @hootiepgh

Aftermath of the "I want a divorce meeting," when Mal drives Paul home. Paul is broken and crying. Mal calls John and tells him how upset Paul is. John comes over. All the angst please!

But as the words are leaving his lips, a noise comes from behind by @hootiepgh

Mid-1969, Allen Klein and the Beatles are having a private meeting with Allen still trying to convince them to have him be their manager. He gets really frustrated and lashes out at one or all of them, and in an act of self defense Paul, Ringo, George, and John end up accidentally killing him. Afraid of what might happen if anyone finds out, they all agree to cover up their involvement in the crime. Their personal lives/ marriages start to crumble as they're forced to rely on each other as the only people they trust. Would like the inclusion of McLennon and George X Ringo

If I Needed Someone by @hootiepgh

Paul gets shot during the 1966 Memphis concert. John (doesn't) deals with the angst and the guilt.

Taking Trophies by @m1ssunderstanding

AU where John and Paul see each other sooner, forced into confrontation around 1971 when things were at their worst with John spewing his anger to the public and Paul taken aback by it. Of course this leads to some post-breakup, angsty, possessive sex.

Everybody Loves Somebody by @bewareofdarkness

Soulmark AU, the four of them are soulmates

invisible string by @scurator

McHarrison boat vibes on the Queen Mary for the Venus and Mars release party. Um, bonus points for George showing off that he won Bob Dylan in the divorce

deeper than oceans you run by @timrothencrantz

AU where they went through with doing Beatle island and establish their commune (?) or whatever the plan was. Polyamory ensues. This either fixes everything or makes everything worse (or somehow both)

yellow, orange, and blue, i love you by @menlove

Soulmates au where one sees colour for the first time when you touch your soulmate. I believe it would be fun to see how this would play out. This one could be a fic, a comic page or even an illustration where the boys realise what happened when they introduce themselves, whatever the artist prefers!

take it away by @monkberryfields

Younger John meets an older Paul at a record shop. Paul offers to teach John how to tune his guitar and play a few chords but at a price...

Posy by @ohjohnnysblog

Mclennon does a roleplay where they pretend John is a shy virgin groupie. Bottom! John

Banana Milkshakes and Armpit Hair by @crepesuzette2023

Will someone finally come on Paul's eyelashes?

I ain't no fool, and I don't take what I don't want by @crepesuzette2023

Mal and Paul make love al fresco during one of their trips. Paul wears nothing but the flimsy scarf he's seen wearing here.

all by design by @forthlin

the classic “john and paul do increasingly sexual things with each other while coming up with increasingly elaborate justifications for why it’s not gay” scenario, except they both DO know that it’s gay, they just each think they’re pulling a fast one by convincing the other one that this is normal guys-being-dudes behavior.

I've Just Seen a Face by @javelinbk

when John met Paul

Meeting on the Turret Stairs by @sleeper9

a John/Paul moment backstage (Hamburg/touring years/rooftop/artist's choice) based on the piece, Hellelil and Hildebrand, the Meeting on the Turret Stairs by Frederic William Burton.

Oh no, he's beautiful by @sleeper9

The first time John wears his glasses around Paul he finally gets to actually see Paul's face and oh no, he's beautiful

Run For Your Life by @pie-of-flames

A recut of any footage into some kind of Beatles horror movie trailer (maybe Paul is dead?)

**This will be updated as we get more fanworks!!

[chaileaf]

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐑 - part two

› featuring: camboy!shuntaro chishiya + fem!reader

› word count: 8,451 words

› synopsis: shuntaro chishiya is the star student at your school. not only is he handsome and athletic- he is extremely well liked by all the professors with perfect grades. whenever you attend a meeting for the school council, as you’re the only one currently running for president, you feel the presence of the one and only chishiya. realizing he is trying to take your spot as president, you listen closely to what he says. then and only then did it click: his voice, those eyes, the way the corner of his lips curl… he is the camboy you watch in your free time! when you get a notification on your phone for a bidding livestream, you're intrigued. it was an auction hosted by none other than k1ng0fd1am0nds. the prize? a private cam date with him, orgasm included.

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, mutual masturbation on camera, rivals to fucking, dominant!chishiya, face slapping, oral sex (f), facefucking (m), submissive!reader, degradation, calling chishiya daddy, slight praise, public sex in a library, creampie, somewhat rough sex

› setting: college au

⤷ chai's note: hiii! this is my first fic i've written in a while! i'm so excited to publish this and i really hope you all enjoy it. i had a lot of fun writing it. i love chishiya sm if it wasn't already obvious. anyways, this isn't proofread so if there's mistakes, pls ignore them. love u byeee xoxo (p.s. there’s a hint to my next fic in here and no, it’s not aki hayakawa hehe)

⤷tags: @poetrieshouse @tungstenorc

it was a familiar feeling for you. the feeling of getting off to his voice, to the way his lips curl into a blissful smirk whenever he touched himself on camera. he was your favorite cam to watch after a stressful day of classes.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

“i hope you all enjoyed my show. i’ll be doing another livestream in a few days so make sure to turn my notifications on. thank you for tuning in and have a splendid night.” his sultry and noticeably softer voice made you turn your head towards your computer screen, admiring how pretty his lips looked in the camera. even though you could only see from his nose down, you knew that he was handsome. there was no doubt about it. no amount of masks and camera angles could hide how attractive he was. it was no surprise that he had so many viewers watching him get off using various toys and methods. not only that, but people paying for these toys, and for him to touch himself how they wanted to see him do. you wished you had more money to spare, to see him get off in a way that you desired. unfortunately, being a college student didn’t give you the ability to spend your extra income on some popular camboy.

to say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. you never thought you’d get to a point in your life where you would have notifications for a camboy set so that you wouldn’t miss his show. you shook your head and layed down, opening your emails to see if any of your professors had sent anything important out.

just as you had thought, a new email was sitting at the top of your inbox. you rolled your eyes, closing them and laying your head back further into the pillow. school wasn’t difficult for you, more so tiring than anything else. you couldn’t wait for it to be over, and as a senior, you were so excited to graduate with a degree in the spring and start your life.

your fingers glided across your screen and opened the email titled ‘school government meeting’. it was nothing more than a reminder of the meeting for tomorrow. you groaned, rubbing your eyes with one hand before realizing it was the hand you got off with and quickly removing it. what would the student body have to say if they knew their future class president was getting off to a camboy, you wondered. that thought alone made your face grimace,

you set your alarms and plugged your phone in before turning the bedside lamp off and snuggling into bed with your stuffed animal. your brain created thoughts of the camboy and what he looked like. you’ve only seen his eyes and lips, amongst other explicit body parts. you could feel the blush on your face as you slowly fell asleep, wondering what his hands would feel like on yourself instead.

the morning of the school meeting came sooner than you would have liked. it was prior to all your classes, which eased the anxiety you would’ve had if it had been at the end of the day.

getting out of bed, you decided to look professional today. instead of the usual tee-shirt and sweatpants combo, you went for something more work casual: a pair of black bellbottom slacks and a white button up with your favorite light wash jean jacket. you topped the outfit off with your signature white converse and headed out the door, leaving early to get breakfast from the school cafeteria.

it was a nice day outside. the sun was shining enough to warm you while the wind was blowing. you smiled to yourself, putting in some headphones while you walked to the student center where the cafeteria was located. your head nodded to the beat of the songs on your playlist. while lost in song, you realized one thing: you left your bag at the dorm. all the blood rushed from your face and turned you pale. part of you wanted to run back and get it, while the other part of you knew that you’d be late for the school council meeting. you groaned to yourself, rubbing your eyes and carrying on with your walk. you decided it was best to be late for your first class rather than the meeting. in the process, you also realized that meant you didn’t have your wallet either. skipping breakfast was the only option now.

as you arrived at the student center, you headed straight to the library where the meeting was being held. you were about twenty minutes early due to not getting breakfast, which was fine with you. you went inside and decided to peer around the bookshelves to see if there was anything interesting.

while looking through the books in the medical sciences section, one in particular caught your eye. you lifted it off of the shelf and examined the cover that read ‘anatomy of the human body for dummies’. the title made you have to stifle a laugh. you’d hoped to yourself that anyone who was reading this wasn’t a pre-med major. you took your headphones out of your ears and put them back into their case before placing it into your pocket.

as you looked through the contents of the book, a familiar voice brought you back to reality. it sounded very similar to someone you knew, but who? your eyes left the pages to meet with the eyes of the one and only, chishiya shuntaro. you did your best to not immediately roll your eyes after making contact with his, closing the book you had and holding it against your chest. “can i help you?” you quizzed, attitude seeping through your words. it made him chuckle as he leaned himself against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. anyone could tell that he was an arrogant prick by the way he carried himself. you couldn’t understand why so many teachers and students alike were enamored with him.

“i said, hi y/n. is it so wrong of me to greet my fellow classmates?” the rhetoric question made you want to roll your eyes again but you didn’t, you knew it would only instigate him further. chishiya’s eyes moved from yours to the book in your hands. “anatomy of the human body… for dummies? that’s the perfect book for you.”

your eyes widened and you shoved the book back onto the shelf. you didn’t have the time to deal with his snarky attitude at eight thirty in the morning. as you walked away, you felt a hand grab at your arm. you quickly pulled it away and turned to face him, only to reveal that the gap between you both had closed in. you could feel chishiya’s breath on your face, and the scent of strawberry was in the air. it was nearly repulsive. “hey, hey. i didn’t mean it, sweetheart. you know i was jo-”

“don’t call me that.” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. his cocky smile turned to that of a false frown, a finger lifting to just below his eye being dragged down to simulate a tear falling. it took everything in you to not scowl at him. “what do you want anyways? shouldn’t you be at track practice or tutoring some girl who’s fawning over you?” you questioned in a sarcastic tone, turning towards the bookshelf to avoid looking at him any longer. your fingers scanned over the bindings of the books, the indentions of the letters being grazed by your hand. “or better yet,” you began with the same sarcasm exuding from each word. “don’t you have some teacher’s to kiss ass to?” your eyes left the bookshelf to meet with his, a hand leaving the books to rest on your hip as you faced him this time. an eyebrow raised in question to further show how irritated you were with his presence. chishiya scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt.

“now why would i do that?” he retorted back, seeming slightly annoyed with the rudeness you were giving him. “y’know, i don’t really understand why you don’t like me.” that statement earned a small chuckle from you as you leaned more into the hand resting on your hip. chishiya crossed his arms, returning to the stance he had against the bookshelf earlier. “i don’t get it, honestly. i’m kind, athletic, intelligent… what is there not to like, y/n?” he probed.

chishiya was right. he was a star student and the talk of the college. his grades were as perfect as they could be. he was extremely talented when it came to track and won almost every race. he wasn’t even close to being unattractive, leaving half of the female population at school that knew of him to be head over heels. there wasn’t much to not like about him. except one little thing.

“your attitude.” you answered, honestly at that. it was nearly immediate. chishiya raised an eyebrow at your statement. you took a deep breath and then sighed. “everything about you seems real, but it isn’t. you think you’re the king of the world and you’re not. i could go into detail and would love to express the ways i think you’re a phony, but i won’t. just know that you’re not who you make yourself out to be.” a genuine look of confusion and concern was plastered across his face as you spoke. you shook your head and turned to leave the star student and the stressful conversation behind.

you checked your phone as you walked away and went to go sit at the table the email told you to meet at. with five minutes left, you decided to spend it looking through your instagram feed. the door to the library opens and a few people in your year come in. you greet them with a smile and a little wave. “hey!” you say to your classmate, lily, who then sits next to you. she returns the smile as the rest gather around the table inside of the library. “you ready for the meeting?” you asked her. your anxiety for the meeting about to happen continues to rise, but her presence alone begins to stifle it.

“yes, and no. i just really wanna get it over with so i can go to class and see professor nanami!” lily leans toward you while dragging out the professor’s name. you rolled your eyes and giggled a bit before looking around. your eyes landed on chishiya who was standing close to the table, yet again leaned up against a bookshelf as if it was his signature position. this time, however, he was reading a book off of the shelf next to him. as if he was reading your mind, his eyes slowly left the pages to meet yours. a smirk played across his lips as he made contact with your eyes, making you turn back to lily who was now talking about what she had for breakfast.

mr. hayakawa, the head instructor for the student council, came through the door of the library. a sigh of relief left your lungs as you could finally get chishiya shuntaro out of your head.

the meeting went on as usual, until a familiar and annoying voice decided to speak up. “uhm, sir. i thought i’d mention that i’m also here because i wanted to run for class president. i wasn’t able to attend the last meeting, unfortunately, so i hope that i can still apply.”

all the blood that was in your face had left at this point. you couldn’t believe it— actually, you could. this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. chishiya would have the nerve to come in and ruin everything you’d planned for. the voice of mr. hayakawa brought you down from the thoughts clouded in your head and you listened to what he had to say. “that is unfortunate, but considering today is the deadline you still have time to be put on the ballot. lucky you.”

your stomach churned at the idea of having to run against someone that nearly the entire school and staff was madly in love with. you knew you had no chance and would have to pull strings if you even wanted a chance at becoming president of the graduating class. all of these thoughts were racing through your head at once and you started to feel light-headed, although it could be because of the lack of sustenance in your stomach as well.

“splendid. thank you, mr. hayakawa.” chishiya responded happily.

but… that word. splendid. your mind couldn’t understand why that single word in his voice sounded so familiar, as if you’d heard it over and over again.

until it hit you.

the flashbacks from every time you’d watched k1ng0fd1am0nd’s cam. every single time he logged off, he would say ‘have a splendid night’. you wondered why chishiya’s voice in your ear earlier sounded all-too familiar and it hit you. but could he be…? no, he couldn’t be the same person. you rejected the idea completely and pushed it in the back of your head to be locked away.

before you knew it, lily nudging your ribs brought you back to reality and you realized you’d been staring at chishiya this entire time who was returning the stare with a grin on his face. you shook your head, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before focusing back on the conversation at hand. “so, mr. shuntaro, what is your goal as president?” mr. hayakawa asked with a plain yet curious tone of voice.

“before i, hopefully, become president, i want to raise funds for a senior activity of some kind. i think it would be nice to get all of my senior classmates together for one last outing before finals, y’know? i know that it would help relieve the stress off of some of the students, me included.” chishiya answered with a smile, glancing at you ever so often. it made you want to puke.

after zoning out for most of the meeting, trying to retain some of your sanity, you finally managed to get through it. “see ya later, y/n! try not to worry too much. you’re going to be a great prez.” lily said with a smile, waving you off. you smiled back and headed to your first class of the day with a pain in your head and a pain in your ass.

you finally made it back to your dorm and immediately flopped onto your bed, face down into the pillow. a pillow-muffled groan left your mouth as you recalled the events of today. you really couldn’t believe the audacity of chishiya shuntaro, and you really couldn’t get his voice out of your head. no, not his voice. k1ng0fd1am0nd’s voice, the camboy’s voice, out of your head. you rolled over onto your back, chucking your shoes onto the floor by pulling them at the heel. a ding from your phone distracted you, with that set tone being the indicator it was from your favorite camboy. you didn’t even want to think about him. he was the one thing that brought you some sort of happiness, and it was ruined by the one and only chishiya. you grimaced before picking up your phone and reading the notification.

k1ng0fd1am0nds: “hello, my lovely watchers. i will be holding an auction to raise funds for something very dear to me. the prize? a private cam session with me, orgasm included. tune in tomorrow night to join in on the bidding. have a splendid night.”

you took a second before realizing you were holding your breath and breathing in deeply before letting it out. everything that was happening is all too coincidental for chishiya to not be him. but there’s no way, right?

you shook your head and slid your lock screen to the side, checking the numbers in your bank account before deciding that you’re going to win that auction once and for all. there was no resting until you did.

“hello, my lovely watchers. it’s so good to be back.” the camboy’s voice rang through the speakers of your headphones as you watched him contently. he had a mask on as usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. you admired his smile, amongst other things, as you listened to what he had to say. “now, before we start, i wanted to lay out some rules. you can bid in $10 increments at minimum. the second rule is that to buy out all the bidders, you must autobuy. that means you will be paying $1000 to win the private cam session with me. got it?” his signature smirk was plastered on his face and you couldn’t help but notice how uncannily similar it was to chishiya’s grin. “let’s begin!”

it took twelve turns of bidding while the cam boy did suggestive things before you placed the bet of $500. you thought no one would outbid you, after the last bid being $250. you bit your nails, watching the screen intently. “wow! $500 from…” the camboy leaned in with a squint, reading out your username. “queenofdiamonds222? that’s adorable.” he smiled, showing all of his beautiful pearly whites. your heart raced as he said your screen name out loud. you never thought he’d notice you, and although it was because of your bid, you still felt a rush of anxiety and excitement run through you.

five bids later, you finally decide to say fuck it. “god damn it.” you say after placing your final bit with an exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head into your hands. it was the autobuy. you knew you shouldn’t have, but your need for knowing whether or not your favorite camboy was chishiya led you to this decision. it was a win/win in your head. on one hand, if he is chishiya shuntaro, you’re right and can potentially use it against him. if it’s not, you get a private session with the one and only k1ng0fd1am0nds. it wasn’t the most financially stable decision, but you had to do what you needed to. the camboy raised a brow in the middle of gripping his semi-hard cock, almost giving you the impression that he was getting off to people bidding money on him. his eyes focused on the screen before widening and letting out a breathy laugh.

“an autobuy from none other than queenofdiamonds222! wow, thank you so much. i- i honestly can’t believe it!” the video star’s voice was full of surprise, genuinely not thinking someone would dare spend that kind of money. “i guess there you have it. i’ll send you a friend request shortly, queen. as for everyone else, i’ll be doing another livestream later this week to take donations. i hope you all enjoyed, and have a splendid night.” with that, he was gone.

part of you felt relieved that you didn’t have to wait any longer. the other part? you could die on the spot. your heart was racing and your palms sweaty at the idea of meeting k1ng0fd1amond’s. although it wasn’t in person, the idea was still extremely anxiety inducing. a fwhip ding from your laptop distracted you from the nerve-wracking thoughts in your mind. it was a friend request from the one and only cam boy. you gulped deeply, hands shaking as you slid your fingers across your mousepad to accept. a few seconds later, a video call notification popped up on your screen from him. “fuck.” you whispered under your breath. “i can do this, i can do it. it’s fine.” you muttered, fixing your hair as if that would make a difference. you answered the call with your video camera still turned off.

k1ng0fd1amond’s face was plastered across your screen, a soft smile playing across his lips. “hello, my queen.” he greeted, leaning back to show off his toned torso. muffled r&b music played in the background of his video call, seemingly setting the mood. “now, as i said, you get this video call with me. however, it would make it much more interesting if i also got to see your face, considering i’m showing mine for the first time.” he leaned forward, mask still covering half of his face. his pretty chesnut-colored eyes were sheltered by long lashes, making his eyes look more sultry. “so, how about it?” the camboy quizzed and lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask as if he were to lift it at any moment.

you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “okay.” you stated softly, reaching the mousepad with your hand and turning on your camera. you stared at him as your face popped up in the corner of the screen, slightly messy hair framing your face. you bit your lip out of anxiety, hoping nothing could go wrong. the cam boy paused, mouth open slightly as if he was examining your face. his eyes darted around, intently staring at the screen before smiling.

“this does, in fact, make things much more interesting.” his fingers delicately hovering over the edges of the mask finally grasped it and pulled it off. your heart nearly dropped out of your ass. all of your suspicions were proven at this moment as his face was uncovered.

chishiya sat there with his signature cocky grin, staring at you through the screen. it felt like you were also naked with how embarrassment flooded your entire body. “are you going to say anything, y/n? or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth open as if you want something inside of it?” his attitude was repulsive, but you couldn’t help but think back to how many times he’d gotten you off without even touching you. his voice, his eyes, the way he stroked himself… all of those things led to your own orgasm countless time. you clenched your jaw, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being.

“i knew it was you, i just needed to prove it.” your voice was shaky, and your breathing continued to become more unsteady.

“okay, so now you know it’s me. now what?” chishiya questioned, raising a brow and seeming unfazed. “you gonna tell the whole school that i’m an exhibitionist? that i take pleasure in knowing people watch me to get off, hmm?”

“n-no…” all of your confidence went out the window. “i just wanted to prove it to myself.” your answer was honest to an extent. you did want to use it against him, but that would be cruel. the perfect chishiya shuntaro, a cam boy. it would be hard for some to believe, but you knew that somehow it would benefit him.

“you paid all of this money, so do you want to get to it?” chishiya asked, cocking his head to the side and letting his hand slowly glide to his lower torso. you stared intently before looking back up at his face which was riddled with arrogance.

“get.. get to what?” you asked curiously, breath hitching in the back of your throat as you felt yourself start to get more turned on. although you truly despised him, he was still the camboy you admired dearly.

“you know exactly what i mean. you can still hate chishiya shuntaro, but don’t try to deny that i get you off better than anyone else could.” that statement from him earned a breathy and near-silent moan. you weren't even touching yourself and he’d already gotten you to the point of wanting to do indescribable things to yourself while listening to his voice. “see, that’s a good girl.” chishiya praised you for the noise you made, his voice dripping with confidence.

“i-i can’t. you’re… i-” words seemed to get stuck in the back of your throat with every sentence you tried to speak.

“and why not? you mean to tell me that you paid all of that money and are gonna let it go to waste, princess?” the nickname made you clench your jaw out of frustration, but not in the bad way. “you know you want to…” you watched his hands grip around his cock, getting harder with every word. you stared at the spot on his grey sweatpants that began to get soaked with his precum. “look at what you’re doing to me, y/n.”

nothing could’ve stopped you at this point. you placed your laptop towards the end of the bed and sat on your knees, unbuttoning your shirt that you’d worn to school earlier that day. you looked into the camera, heart racing and breath spiking with every button that was undone. your hands lingered on the last button before pulling off your shirt to reveal your pretty white lace bra. chishiya bit his lip, his hand gripping his dick and moving up and down the shaft slowly as if he was teasing himself. you could hear him stifle a moan as he watched you undress yourself.

“you’re so beautiful. i’m surprised you don’t show yourself off on camera.” that comment earned a small chuckle as you were finally down to your bra and panties. chishiya slid his grey sweatpants off to reveal a tented bulge in his boxers. his hands stroked the member at a slow and steady pace, as if he went any faster that he’d combust. you let out a soft groan at the sight, feeling yourself become wetter by the second. “lay down on your back. i want to see all of you.” chishiya ordered, becoming more flustered by the second.

you listened to his words as if they were controlling you, positioning yourself on your back to where he could see everything from the side. your eyes closed briefly before the nerves got to you. “chishiya, i-” you started before he quickly cut you off.

“i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” his words made you moan as your fingers lingered over your bra-covered breasts, touching yourself so lightly that it made you want more. you nodded, biting your lip and daring to look at the screen. chishiya was positioned to where you could see from his thighs to the top of his head. you took in the way his face stared intently at you with a lasting expression of lust. his toned torso moved in sync with his rapidly increasing breaths, and his hands were teasing the tip of his cock. the cam boy raised a brow, expecting you to answer.

”yes, daddy.” you replied nearly breathless. you couldn’t believe the state you were in with not having done anything yet. this reply garnered a genuine and lecherous smile.

“that’s my girl. now, take off your bra.” your hands didn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp the device, taking off the undergarment in one swift motion. you awaited his next command as the cool air from your room made your nipples perk up. chishiya licked his lips. his movements on his girthy member becoming more steady with each stroke. “i want you to touch your nipples, softly. pinch them, tease them. show me how you touch yourself when you watch me.”

you did your best to push the embarrassment of knowing that chishiya knew you had gotten off to him countless times. the tips of your fingers came up and twirled your nipples, head leaning back into the bedsheets as you let out a soft gasp. you pinched them in between your fingertips, teasing them while replaying thoughts of him stroking his cock. “daddy…” you let out in a breathless moan. it was a plead for more, and you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

your other hand came up and gripped your breast, squeezing it softly as you closed your eyes. your pussy tingled with anticipation and your hips bucked up slightly at the feeling. you wanted more. you needed more. your eyes opened as you turned your head to glance at him. chishiya was staring at you with lascivious eyes, almost as if they were imploring for more.

you slid your hands down, not caring that he only said to touch your nipples. you stuck your thumbs on the inside of your panties, glancing down at them for a moment before returning your eyes to him. his teeth tugging on his bottom lip was confirmation enough, leading you to pull your underwear completely off. chishiya followed suit, revealing his cock that was hidden behind his boxers. you’d seen it many times, but this one was different. it was so much more intimate knowing he, too, was watching you. his hands gripped the thick member, stroking it at a steady pace as he watched you unravel yourself for him.

“fuck, i fucking need you.” chishiya’s words were enough for you to bring one hand to your breast and slide the other down to your pussy in hopes of relieving some tension. “that’s a good fucking girl. keep going.” he ordered as moans left your mouth over and over, eyes fluttering back and forth. you imagined that instead of your fingers, it was chishiya’s stroking your sensitive and swollen clit. you wished it was him teasing at your nipples with his tongue instead of your own hands. the thought alone pushed you closer to the edge.

“chi!” you gasped, curling your fingers inside of yourself and watching him continue to speed up the movements on his cock. his hands were curled around his member, stroking at a fast pace while watching you touch yourself. the moans leaving his mouth were heavenly. thoughts of what they’d sound like as he was inside of you flooded your mind, making you speed up the pace of your fingers.

“keep going. fucking faster. that’s my good fucking girl. such a good toy for daddy.” chishiya muttered out of nothing more than lust. you obliged to his demands with a ‘yes, sir’, doing what he ordered as if you’d done it a million times.

you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. your hips bucked over and over as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, watching him pant and continue to stroke himself. “gonna cum for me?” chishiya asked in between melodious moans. you nodded intensely, squeezing your eyes shut as your felt your orgasm bubbling. “beg.” he ordered sternly, mouth opening as sweat rippled across his forehead.

“please, chishiya! please, daddy!” you begged, curling your toes and bucking your hips. you turned your head and dared to open your eyes and watch him. “please let me cum for you. please, daddy. i need to cum for you.” you pleaded as your release was closer than you could imagine. chishiya moaned deeply, speeding up his movements to match yours.

“cum for me. cum, you stupid fucking slut.” with his words, you felt your orgasm wash over and relieve you of any stress you’d built up. your moans rang through his speakers as you reached your release. looking over, you watched as he reached his orgasm, squirting his cum all over his torso. chishiya’s breathing was rapid and his eyes were closed. he brought a hand up and brushed his hair out of his face, leaning his head onto the pillow behind him. “fuck…” he said breathlessly.

“yeah…” you agreed with a stifled chuckle, closing your eyes and leaning further into the mattress. the real world creeped in slowly, persisting you to grab a shirt from the floor and put it on to cover up. chishiya did the same, grabbing his boxers and putting them on to cover himself after cleaning his release from off of his stomach. “so.” you said awkwardly, brushing your now messy hair behind your ear and positioning yourself to sit and face the camera.

“so?” chishiya asked curiously, a sweet smile curled on his lips with the singular word. he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “please don’t tell me you’re gonna make this awkward now.” you blushed, looking away and biting your lip out of anxiety.

“no, i just-” you began before shaking your head and looking down. you lifted your head shortly after to face him and begin again. “this never happened, okay?” the look of disappointment replaced his smile and he pursed his lips to the side. he nodded in agreement, mumbling a defeated ‘yeah’ while shaking his head.

“as you wish, my queen.” the name made you genuinely laugh, causing him to sit for a moment and admire you. you took a moment before regaining yourself, admiring him as well. his eyes were so beautiful, something you loved about him before knowing it was him. chishiya’s lips were so perfectly tuned for his face, as if god himself took his time to make sure he’d have a lovely smile and an even more lovely kiss. you shrugged the thoughts off and decided to call it here.

“bye, chishiya.” the voice was not meant to sound sad, but it came out as if you were slightly heartbroken. you didn’t want the fun to end, but you knew it was for the best. chishiya wasn’t your friend, nor your acquaintance. he was the star student of your college, a famous cam boy, and your academic rival. nothing about this would work. you sighed, content with knowing the answers you sought after in the first place.

“see ya later, y/n.” even his voice sounded sad, but in the same way as yours of knowing what’s best for each of you.

it had been two weeks since your escapade with chishiya and you’d been avoiding him the entire time. every time you seen him, whether it be in the cafeteria or the library, you immediately turned around to go the other way. he tried multiple times to give you a small wave but you couldn’t bear to think of the things you two did together.

the thoughts flooded your mind as your physics book was laid out in front of you, notes scattered across the table in the back of the near-empty library. it was 7pm on a friday, meaning everyone was either out partying or doing their own thing in their dorms. you, however, had to study immensely for your upcoming midterms. the thought alone made you groan and shove your head in your hands. “fuckin’ christ. i should just drop out.” you muttered dismissively, not wanting to study any longer.

“that’s not the attitude i’d expect from our future class president.” the words stung your ears as a familiar voice flooded them. you lifted your head slowly, eyes cautiously settling on chishiya who was watching you intently. your face flushed with a crimson blush after avoiding him for so long. he lifted his hand and did a small wave that you’d rejected many times before this meeting. “hi, y/n.”

“chishiya, i really don’t have time for this.” you stated in an annoyed and exhausted tone, beginning to close your books. he walked over slowly, grabbing at your wrist that was trying to put away the notes. chishiya closed the gap between you, leaning over and getting closer to your face. his eyes left yours for a moment to peer at your lips, only to look back up and smirk. you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and pulled your wrist away. he released a chortle, sitting close to you on the table where your scattered notes lay.

“c’mon. you don’t wanna talk to me?” chishiya questioned with a smile, shaking his head. “and after all we’ve been through…” he tsked, putting a hand over his heart. the blush that had since faded returned, making you turn your head away from him in attempts to hide it. chishiya noticed by the redness of your ears and without further hesitation grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “what do you say we do it right here, right now?” a devilish grin was stuck on his face as he leaned in closer to you, almost as if he were to kiss you. your tongue left your mouth to lick your lips before he moved right past your face and went to your ear. the star student licked along the outskirts of your earlobes before breathily whispering. “i can feel how much you’re aching for me right now, sweetheart. tell me you want me to take you in this library for everyone to see.” a moan slipped from your mouth as the grip on your chin shifted to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly to arise a reaction from you. “don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, y/n?”

that phrase alone made you wiggle with anticipation, causing his mouth to leave your ear and look at you. his hand left your throat and rested on either side of you, positioned on the chair you were sitting at. chishiya’s eyes darted from your own to your lips, as if questioning if you really wanted to do this. your breathing was steadily increasing, as was your heart rate. part of you wanted to say no, to leave immediately. but you were desperate for him. you needed him to devour you like an animal. before you could say no, your body produced a nod for chishiya.

his hands left the chair and instantaneously connected with your jaw again, closing the space between you and engulfing your lips into a kiss. your hand wrapped around his wrist, nudging it down as if begging him to put it around your throat. chishiya smiled into the kiss and did as you requested, gripping your neck just enough to cut off the blood flow and send a rush to your head once he let go. the bliss of his tongue entering your mouth and intertwining with your own made you moan into his mouth, scooting closer to the edge of the chair to be more near him. chishiya took this as a sign to further things as he lifted your body off of the chair , still locked in the kiss, and move you to the table. pages of your notes fluttering across the floor with the swift movement. you wrapped your legs around his waist, deeping the kiss by pulling his head closer. the feeling of his hardening cock behind his white joggers against your own sweatpants made a moan escape your vocal chords into his mouth. chishiya pulled away from the kiss and moved the chair you’d previously been sitting in to settle himself on his knees. you raised a brow, confused by his actions. “chishiya?”

a fiendish grin made its way onto his lips as he placed his thumbs through the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down along with your underwear. “i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” the familiar words made you lose your breath as you remembered the moments from a week ago. you nodded hastily and let him continue. “atta girl.” chishiya praised before kissing up your thighs, gripping them with a steady pressure on either side. his mouth found its way to your stomach by sliding your shirt up, lifting himself up ever so slightly to reach your nipples. he looked up at you with his dark chocolate eyes before immersing your the sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking on them with no hesitation. his teeth bit them gingerly, continuing to suckle at them as he did so. chishiya moved to the other side and continued to do the same thing before moving on, lips interchanging between peppering kisses down your torso and fellating the skin there.

his movements continued until he was face to face with your pussy. a deep breath exhaling from him caused you to buck your hips, in search of some sort of contact. you bit your lip at the unconscious act of desperation that your body performed. you never expected to be so submissive in the presence of chishiya shuntaro. his eyes locked with yours before licking up the sides of your folds, tasting in the sweet juices that had trickled out. you leaned on one arm and used the other one to cover your mouth with your hand. even though you knew no one was in the library, you couldn’t imagine getting caught in this position right now.

chishiya continued to explore you with his mouth, licking along everywhere except where you needed him most. “chi- daddy…” you corrected yourself quickly, before continuing. “daddy, please. i-” his eyes focused in on you, darkening as you continued to speak in stuttered breaths. “i need you, chishiya.” those words were like a switch in his brain as he began to devour every piece of you his tongue could reach. you did your best to withhold the sounds of pleasure that dared to escape your mouth as he suckled at your extremely sensitive clit. chishiya’s tongue made its way up and down your folds before settling on your clit, nibbling it ever so slightly. the explicit noises he made ellicited a deep moan from you, causing chishiya to groan into your pussy. before you knew it, you were being filled by not one, but two, of chishiya’s fingers. a loud whimper made its way out of your mouth. you gave up leaning on your arm and gave way to laying down fully on the table, squeezing your thighs around chishiya’s warm face. the pressure against your sweet spot combined with the movements of his tongue had you seeing stars.

“cum.” chishiya commanded out of nowhere., muffled by your wet cunt. you hadn’t realized the feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you before he’d said something. not responding in a proper enough time frame from him, he got up and leaned over the table, fingers still working at your g-spot. “i said cum, you pathetic whore. cum for me.” his hand went over your mouth as he kept bullying your insides with his middle and ring finger. “look at me.” chishiya demanded. the look on his face and his continuous movements led you to your orgasm, slick juices covering his hands as he slowed his pace down. your erratic breathing elicited a smirk from him, the signature, cocky smirk. he removed the hand covering your mouth and replaced it with the fingers that were inside of you, which you gladly and hastily licked clean. “what a good fuckin’ girl. now say ‘thank you, daddy’.”

“thank you, daddy.” you replied breathlessly, still coming down from the high of having an orgasm by his hands.

chishiya leaned in and kissed you, his tongue slowly making its way to ravage your mouth and selfishly steal the taste of your juices from you. suddenly, he pulled away with a familiar devilish grin. “now, should i give you what you want, or should i fuck your face like you’re my own personal fleshlight?” the vulgar words made your face hot with embarrasment, but you didn’t care anymore. you just wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“whatever you want, daddy. anything for you.” you responded in a sultry tone, wanting nothing more than to please him at this moment. chishiya’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled you to the edge of the table, making you sit up.

“knees. now.” those two words sent chills down your spine as you moved to listen to him. you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, giving him an innocent facial expression even though he ate you out like he’d been starving for days. chishiya chuckled, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his cock to bounce out from the restraint of the clothing. “look at you,” he began with a hand on your jawline, running his thumb across your chin and up to your lips. he pulled your bottom lip down with his fingertips, eliciting you to open your mouth. chishiya’s spare hand was stroking his member at a painfully slow pace, precum dripping onto the floor. you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and closing your eyes before opening them and making eye contact. “you’re such a pretty fucking slut, y/n.” he took his thumb out of your mouth and continued to stroke your jawline, eyes never leaving yours. a smirk took over his face before he pulled his hand back and landed a slap on your face, just enough to move your head but not enought to hurt you. “open that slutty mouth of yours, yeah?”

you made an opening with your mouth for him, continuing to stare up into his hazel eyes. chishiya used his hand to move his member and hit it against your cheek, making a light slapping noise from the contact. he moved the tip to your lips, rubbing the dripping precum against them before slowly entering his dick inside of your mouth. he let out a deep moan as you continued to take him inside of your mouth, flattening your tongue as to rub it against the underside of his shaft. chishiya’s soft palms grasped at either side of your face, fingers tangling in the hair that he could grasp. he started off slow, pulling his cock out to the tip and moving back in, doing the same again but only taking half out this time. you mustered up the confidence you could to not gag and pull off of him. suddenly, he began to fuck your face fiercely. chishiya shoved all the way in to your mouth with each thrust at a steady, quick pace. he was desperate to feel you around him, gripping your hair harder with each thrust and letting moans go with each time you’d gag around him. “s’fuckin good.” he praised while moving a hand to clench your hair into a ponytail. he used his free hand to lean on the table behind him while he thrusted into your mouth. the sounds coming from his mouth could’ve made the heaven’s cry by how lovely they were. you closed your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and whimpering with every harsher thrust chishiya delivered. the feeling of his cock riding in and out of your mouth so recklessly made you wish it was inside of you instead.

all too soon, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed you by your arms to place you on the table. “need you. now.” chishiya stated frantically, kissing you in between sentences. his hand made it’s way to your folds, entering two fingers in suddenly and curling to hit your sensitive spot a few times before pulling them out almost as quickly as they were inside. he grabbed his girthy cock, positioning it in front of your pussy and sliding it along the slit. a breathy ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he shoved it in without warning. you leaned on one arm, your free hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as he pounded into you at full speed. you could tell he needed this.

chishiya thrusted into you over and over again, continuing to defile your insides with his cock. you bucked your hips in sync with him as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto him more with each thrust. you felt like you were drunk or high, as if you were in a haze. your thoughts were incoherent as he started plowing in and out of your cunt, merciless by accident with how roughly he moved— not that you were complaining, quite the opposite with how hard it was to keep quiet inside of this empty public library. sounds of desperate moans and skin on skin filled the room. chishiya seemed determined to make you cream around his cock in a way that would make you completely forget everything but the image of him on top of you on this table. a groan slipped from your lips, making you arch your back as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “be quiet.” chishiya grunted, moving your hand from your mouth and letting it fall onto the table to support you. he replaced your own hand by shoving two fingers in your mouth. you happily obliged to this filling, sucking on his fingers and whimpering around them as he relentlessly thrusted.

between incoherent pleads for more around his fingers and breathless moans, you felt your orgasm drawing closer with each time he entered you. a bubbly feeling was growing by the second, and your expressions of pleasure soon heightened in pitch. “d-daddy… ‘m close!” the broken words escaped your mouth as soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth to return to your hips in hopes of somehow bringing himself deeper into you, although being already balls deep. “that’s it, cream all over my cock.” chishiya’s fingers immediately went for your clit, fingertips circling the swollen and sensitive bud to send you over the edge.

between the clenching of your walls closing around him from your high releasing and the thrusts continuing at full force, his orgasm followed suit. his beautiful, low moans filled your ears as he emptied his load inside of you, the thick liquid slowly coming out your hole and spilling onto the table as he continued to thrust slowly while he hit his high. chishiya stopped moving his hips eventually, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder. you both were a panting mess and the library was extremely dark. he pulled out with a wince at how sensitive he was before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. he helped you off the table, legs still shaking from the exchange. you leaned into him, pulling your own sweatpants up and tightening them around your waist. you looked up into his eyes. they were glassy and still full of lust, but still beautiful. “let me walk you to the dorms.” chishiya said, more of a statement than a question. you inhaled deeply and nodded, not having the energy to tell him you could go alone.

chishiya helped you pack your things into your bag before you both left the library, eyeing the one old lady sitting at the desk who seemed to be oblivious to everything happening around her. she had an old headset on and seemed to be reading a very thick book. you both shook your head simultaneously and headed out the door towards the dorms.

after a few minutes walking in silence, you decided to speak up. “y’know this doesn’t change anything, right?” you quizzed, looking straight ahead so as not to look at his face. chishiya’s familiar chuckle flooded your ears as he nodded.

“i figured. you’re very stubborn.” he joked, playfully pushing you to the side. you laughed in return and returned to your original position on the sidewalk next to him. “however,” he began, making your ears perk up. you looked over at chishiya who had a devilish grin. “you don’t always have to watch me on camera. you could join me, too…”

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 19th-24th 2023

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you're all having a good time with your loved ones. You might get an extra rec this week as a treat! 😊

Complete

running in the dark (let the storms arise) by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (6x10: In A Flash | 2K | Teen): As Buck sleeps, Eddie dreams.

give it to someone special by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, Christmas | 12K | Mature): Buck and Eddie meet at the airport after their respective girlfriends live their Hallmark movie dreams and dump them right before Christmas.

I Couldn’t Stand the Person Inside Me I Turned All the Mirrors Around by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Hurt Buck, Established Buddie | 7K | General): The shattering sound of plates erupted in the air like a crack of thunder and Eddie’s gaze shot up from his phone. Something was wrong. It was a hair thin trigger that had been switched the moment he caught sight of his boyfriend and the whole world could’ve stopped for all Eddie knew. Buck was staring down at his hands, breathing way too fast, and drowning in some kind of panic that only he could see. “My hands won’t work,” Buck said so quietly.

🔥 Kink Club AU series by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Dom Eddie, Sub Buck | Complete | Explicit): Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01.

The Warmth (of You) (25K): aka where Buck and Eddie first meet at a kink club before the firehouse To Weather the Storm (With You) (21K): aka the fallout of Buck finding out the dom he met at a Kink Club is his new coworker Safe Here (With You) (20K): aka Buck and Eddie handle working a shift after their first scene The Building Pressure (of You) (15K): aka Buck reaches out to Eddie after he leaves Abby's place in 2x07 An Offer to Torment (You) (14K): aka Eddie is all twisted up inside about what to do with Shannon. Buck offers himself up for some much needed holiday stress relief.

🔥 to be found by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Werewolf AU | 71K | Mature): After being mistreated by his alpha for the last time, Buck abandons his pack and heads for the city where he’s found by Eddie - another werewolf who’s nothing like the ones Buck is used to. Eddie is gentle, kind, and has made a pack for himself and his son that Buck desperately wishes he could be a part of. (Part 1 of to be found (verse))

🔥 to belong by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Werewolf AU | 9K | Explicit): Reluctantly, Buck detaches himself from Eddie’s neck and lifts his head just enough for them to look at each other. Eddie’s eyes are dark even with the room bathing in sunlight, his pupils blown. His chest rises and falls at a quick pace, his cheeks flushed. Buck can’t help but lick his own mouth at the sight of Eddie’s kiss-bruised lips. I did that, he thinks. A few months ago he hadn’t even known how to kiss Eddie properly for the first time, and now he can do this. Can leave Eddie looking completely disheveled with just his mouth and hands, the sound of his fast thumping heart loud in Buck’s ears. It makes his chest swell with pride. (Part 2 of to be found (verse))

Christmas Lights by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Established Buddie, Christmas | 1K | Teen): “What are we looking at?” Eddie asks, his voice slightly muffled from where his cheek is resting against the top of Buck’s head. “The lights.” “Okay,” Eddie hums. “And what do we think about the lights?”

don't waste a dime on me by QuietLittleVoices/ @hawkeyefrommash (Established Buddie, Secret Relationship | 2K | Teen): Buck and Eddie attend the LAFD's Winter Charity Gala, where Buck is up for auction as a 'date with a real firefighter!'.

Pining. Get it? Like the Tree? by littlechivalry/ @jonlybonlyfromboldlygo (Christmas, First Kiss | 2K | General): Buck likes Christmas. Well, he likes the idea of Christmas.  Loved ones getting together. Generosity. The magic of the season. It's wonderful. The reality however, or at least the reality he's experienced? Not so much.

all I want for christmas by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie has to work Christmas Eve and asks Buck to take him to the Buckley-Han Christmas dinner. Buck is happy to spend Christmas with Christopher, but being with his parents dampens the mood. It makes it worse when his mother questions his place in Christopher’s life. Luckily, Christopher knows Buck enough to see him hurting and has a plan to make him feel better. To show him who his real family are.

baby, you never lookеd better than you do in that ugly Christmas sweatеr by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | General): Buck mentions he always wanted his family to wear matching Christmas sweaters, but never got it - Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

Like The Cavemen Did by DeadlyChildArtemis (PWP, BDSM | 4K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie discover a new part of themselves.

🔥 still sitting in a corner i haunt by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel | 7K | Mature): Unable to imagine a scenario where acting on his feelings for Buck doesn’t end up with everybody hurt, Eddie rejects Buck. Before he can finish the conversation, Eddie is ripped from his time and hurtled into several, seemingly random moments from the future that help clarify his decision.

How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying and Embrace the Kitten Life by DeadlyChildArtemis (PWP, BDSM | 7K | Explicit): Or, 5 times Eddie refuses to acknowledge his cat behavior and one time he does

All it took was one sniff by kas_delafere/ @janekburza (Incubus Buck, Werewolf Eddie | 1K | General): Buck’s been starving himself since Abby left. But the new hire in the station apparently took one look (one sniff, really) at him and decided Buck is The One.

and i feel just like i want to kiss you underneath my mistletoe by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas | 9K | Teen): 5 times the team tries to get Eddie and Buck to kiss under the mistletoe and the 1 time they do. Kinda.

ain’t a drop of bad blood by grandpacat (Post-Lawsuit | 2K | General): Buck cries, Eddie apologizes, Eddie cries, Buck apologizes. Post-lawsuit canon divergence.

Hearth by grandpacat (Post-S6 | 6K | Mature): In which Marisol finds out about Eddie's will and isn't happy, Eddie has some realizations, and all the important conversations happen in the kitchen.

Brain Machine Broke by grandpacat (Getting Together, Post-S6 | 1K | General): Buck sees Eddie holding Jee-Yun and his brain breaks.

You and Me Here (underneath the mistletoe) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): It’s fine. It’s just a kiss under the mistletoe. It’s a Christmas tradition, and in this case, just a joke. Not a big deal. He can play along – his only other choice is being weird about it, which sounds too much like revealing his feelings. So, he swallows it down and looks at Eddie who is still standing frozen, staring up at the mistletoe hanging above them. Buck forces an easy smile. “C’mon, I’m not that bad,” he jokes. The tension in Eddie’s shoulders lessens a little and he laughs softly. “No. No you’re not,” he admits. “So, what do we do?” Buck shrugs, trying to remain casual. “I guess we just suck it up and French a little.”

Bottled Poetry by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Fake Relationship, Valentine's Day | 7K | Teen): Buck and Eddie take a platonic trip to a winery and everyone assumes they're a couple. Eddie pines.

Home is Just Another Word for You by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Different First Meeting AU | 10K | General): Eddie misses his flight home to his son on Christmas Eve, and just so happens to get stuck with the handsome man who sprinted across the airport with him.

Dance the Night Away by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting | 7K | Mature): "Just promise me something, okay?" Eddie is brought around to the present, blinking as he wraps his hand around his beer bottle and nods for Ricky to go on, even though he's already half-sure of what's about to happen. "You have to rescue that poor boy over there." Ricky nods over Eddie's left shoulder, and Eddie, even though he knows better, finds himself twisting, hip cocked against the low bar, to follow Ricky's line of sight toward the cluster of round tables in the corner of the room.

Please Don't Wake Me Up by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Incubus Eddie | 11K | Explicit): "You've been having wet dreams about me." And shit. Fucking fuck. That was not what Eddie had wanted to start with. But the words are out in the open, and Buck is gaping at him, jaw damn near on the floor as he's frozen, blinking quickly and processing what Eddie's just said. "You- how- did Chimney tell you?"

Cat Scratch Fever by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Cat Hybrid Buck, PWP, Established Buddie | 3K | Explicit): When another cat hybrid on a call accidentally gets Buck hyped on pheromones, Eddie's there to take care of him.

When the Lost are Found by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Soulmates AU | 3K | General): When everyone seems to have a better soulmate identifying system, Buck can't help but consider his own to be lackluster. How's he meant to find his soulmate with loose change and mismatched socks after all?

Capture Something by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Percy Jackson Fusion | 3K | Teen): "Let's see," Buck counts off on his fingers, "he just broke up with his girlfriend. He lives in Texas while I'm in Pennsylvania. We have no evidence he's even interested in boys, and, oh yeah!" Buck fake gasps as though this last point has just come to him, "he's an Ares kid."

WIP

They don’t know (your name is already mine) by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (Post-S6, Secret Relationship, Hurt Buck | 3/4 | 7K | General): Buck gets in a car accident on Christmas Eve Eve and the only ID he has on him is Eddie's dog tags. A case of mistaken Identity, a trip to the hospital and a Christmas Surprise.

Packing Light by devirnis/ @devirnis(Last Holiday AU, Christmas | 1/4 | 8K | Teen): The discovery that he has a terminal illness prompts Buck, who has been stagnating as a sales associate at Kelly’s Department Store, to withdraw his life savings and jet off to Europe. There, he lives like a millionaire at the luxury hotel where his sister works. The only one missing from his new life is his coworker and longtime crush, Eddie Diaz.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 19/? | 13K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 1/17 | 12K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 89K | 20/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 15K | 6/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 41/54 | 78K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

42. Head Empty Just Vibes : Rated G - just more of me being obsessed with the possibilities of Eddie's recovery and Buck being there for him. 43. Phantom Sensation : Rated T - just to be on the safe side for blood and trauma and such. Yet another post-shooting "Buck stays over and helps Eddie recover" ficlet.

[thezombieprostitute]

Masterlist

By AU

Biker AU - Fate (Curtis Everett)

Coffee Shop AU - Barista!Steve Rogers

College AU - Tenure (Charles Blackwood, Curtis Everett) - Tutoring (Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen)

Corporate AU - Tech Tuesdays (Multiple characters)

Fairy Tale AU - Magic (Jefferson/Mad Hatter)

Flower Shop AU - Flowers in Storms (Lee Bodecker)

Mafia AU - Changing Minds/Constant Change (Nick Fowler) - Dream Come True /Nightmares (Curtis Everett) - Hummingbird /Dragonfly (Steve Rogers) - Sparks Fly/Frayed (Mace)

Maid AU - Cleaning Up (Jonathan Pine)

Omegaverse - Alphas & Algorithms (Curtis Everett) - Beta!Reader (Bucky Barnes, Hal Carter)

Royal AU - Sir Everett (Curtis Everett)

Soulmate AU - All Your Lovin' (Captain Syverson) - Alpine (Bucky Barnes) - Lloyd's Soulmate (Lloyd Hanson) - Sleepy Surprise

Werewolf AU - Prologue (Hal Carter, Jake Jensen) - Werewolf Steve (Steve Rogers)

By Character (characters I've written more than a couple stories for)

Bucky Barnes

Curtis Everett

Hal Carter

Jake Jensen

Lloyd Hansen

Nick Fowler

Steve Rogers

Character Reactions

I need kisses

Tell me I'm pretty

Holiday Stories

Christmas - Baby's First Christmas (Curtis Everett) - Music in the Air (Bucky Barnes) - 'Tis the Season, Sir (Steve Rogers) - Last Christmas (Nick Fowler, Hal Carter)

Halloween - Laughingstock (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Valentine's - Lloyd's Valentine (Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Miscellaneous

Always the Bridesmaid (Jonathan Pine, Nick Fowler)

Bad Day (James Mace) - Bad Day Alternate (Dark!Ari Levinson)

Bets (Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen)

Bittersweet (Dark Skinny!Steve)

Cops and Robbers (Lee Bodecker)

Dandelion (Hal Carter)

Done This 100 Times (Mordecai)

Grumpy Days (Multiple characters)

In the Woods (Chris Beck, James Mace)

Missing You (Johnny Storm)

Museum Tours (Steven Grant)

Panic Attack (Walter Marshall)

Pen Pals (God the Bounty Hunter)

Photos (Jake Jensen)

Receiving Affection (Multiple Characters)

Retaliation (Dark!Jake Jensen)

Self-Care Weekend (Bucky Barnes)

Selkie Story (Mace)

Stickers (Bucky Barnes)

Stuck (Ransom Drysdale)

To the Rescue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick)

Inspired by Others

Alpha to the Rescue (unnamed character)

Andrew's Downfall (dark!Andy Barber, dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Angry Ari (Ari Levinson)

At the Gala (Multiple Characters) - After the Gala (Harald Finehair)

At the Gym (Unnamed SStan character)

Bouquet Event Masterlist (Multiple Characters)

Charity Auction (Multiple Characters)

Detective vs. Mafia (Clark Kent, Steve Rogers, Walter Marshall)

Don't Open the Door (Curtis Everett)

Global Warming (God the Bounty Hunter)

Ice Cream (Hal Carter)

Jealous (Nick Fowler)

Kidnapped (Multiple Characters)

Quiet Night (Bucky Barnes)

Royal Security (Nick Fowler)

Sacrifice (Demon!Lloyd Hansen)

Secret Crush (Lloyd Hansen)

Speed Dating (Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen)

Too Old? (Unnamed Character)

Unexpected Guest (Curtis Everett)

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Masterlist || candlewaxandp0lar0ids

OTHERS

Ao3 profile

How to Leave Comments on Fanfiction (Advice Post)

BTS

★ Namjoon

↳ Lazy Day // fluff. domestic!AU, established relationship. 549 words

★ Jin

↳ Don't Go Baking My Heart // fluff. bakery!AU, strangers to lovers. 14.7k.

You fall in love with Kim Seokjin’s bakery after wandering into it to take advantage of the post-Valentine’s Day discount on the chocolates. Maybe it’s the owner’s bad jokes, maybe it’s the other regulars, maybe it’s the delicious pastries. Or maybe there’s something more that keeps you coming back to that shop.

★ J-Hope

↳ For the First Time (What's Past is Past) // fluff, light angst, smut. neighbors!AU, strangers to lovers. 15.7k

After your eight years relationship comes to a brutal end, you don’t really see yourself getting back into dating — ever, probably. And then, your new neighbor who has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen needs to borrow a corkscrew, and you don’t realize it just yet, but your resolve doesn’t stand a chance.

★ Jimin

↳ Fly to my room // fluff. college!AU. 1k

↳ good for you // PWP, smut. friends with benefits!AU. 2.9k

★ Jungkook

↳ I Don't Like a Gold Rush // fluff. college!AU, strangers to lovers. 17.3k

Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college’s football team. Rumor has it, there’s simply nothing he can’t do. The same cannot be said about you, but you’ve never had an issue with that. You’re happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you’ve taken an interest in him — and you’re sure you shouldn’t. There’s no way this can end well for you… right?

↳ if i can never give you peace // series. angst, eventual smut. mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, enemies to lovers, slow burn. in progress.

It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed. Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine. Until he comes back.

0 · 1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5 · Interlude · 6 · 7 · 8 · 9 ·

STRAY KIDS

★ Bang Chan

↳ all your friends are so cool, you go out every night // smut. college!AU, friends with benefits!AU, jealousy. 5k.

↳ hoodie season // tooth-rotting fluff. established relationship AU. 1.4k.

★ Lee Know

↳ when he sees me // smut, fluff, angst. neighbors!AU. 13.3k. in progress.

Interacting with others has never been easy for you, whether it is talking to them or, worse, flirting with them. As a result, relationships, but also any form of sexual interactions have always eluded you. You had no reason to think that was going to change anytime soon. And then your hot neighbor’s cat shows up in your apartment, and you think that things just might change. Even if it’s only on one front.

↳ kinda wanna throw my phone across the room // fluff. college!AU, coffee shop!AU, strangers to lovers, jealousy. 4.9k

★ Changbin

↳ wanna be you so bad // angst? college!AU, academic rivals!AU, jealousy. 4.3k

★ Hyunjin

↳ you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad // PWP, smut. college!AU, established relationship. 4.4k

↳ comparison is killing me slowly // hurt/comfort, smut. college!AU, established relationship, jealousy. 5.2k. same couple as you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad.

★ Han

↳ i'm so sick of myself // fluff, angst. college!AU, friends to lovers. 4.2k

↳ something's waiting now to pounce // angst, light horror, thriller. high school!AU, slasher!AU, friends to lovers. 6.3k.

★ Felix

↳ felix navidad // fluff, angst. christmas evel!au, strangers to lovers. 16.4k

You keep seeing Felix around. First he falls in your courtyard on Christmas Eve, then you see him hiding chocolate eggs in a park, and then he appears on the staircase behind your apartment, in the middle of the night. It’s unusual, and you have no idea what it means. What you do know, though, is that you’re absolutely fascinated by him, who he is, and the light and joy he seems to bring with him everywhere he goes. Even if you have no idea who or what he is, all that you want is to find out more — and get to spend a little more time with him.

↳ rather be anyone else // angst. college!AU, friends to lovers, jealousy. 3.7k

↳ wouldn't you like to see something strange? // angst, suggestive. urban fantasy, roommates!AU. 4k.

★ Seungmin

↳ i think i think too much // fluff, suggestive. college!AU, established relationship, jealousy. 3.7k

↳ everybody make a scene // fluff, angst (both light). coworkers!AU, convenience store!AU, friends to lovers. 4k

★ I.N.

↳ all i see are girls too good to be true // fluff, light angst. college!AU, idiots to lovers, jealousy. 3.9k

↳ take a chance and roll the dice // fluff. coworkers!AU, bar!AU. 3.7k

[hanafubukki]

OT3 Masterlist 

Knight of Dawn x Reader x Lilia Vanrouge

Fanfics/Scenarios (can be read together or each a standalone; each part is after some time has past)

Part 1 (YN gets transported to the past)

Part 2 (YN treats an injured Lilia)

Part 3 (YN returns home)

Ficlets

Meleanor & Reader

Meleanor & Reader and The Senate

Twst Playful Land Scenarios

Happy Mother’s Day

Asks/Drabbles

Ask 1 (Ways to become Silver's Mom)

Ask 2, (Domestic life with OT3)

Ask 3, (More domestic moments and Baby Silver saves Dada Lilia)

Ask 4, (YN returns to the future and shenanigans with Twst cast)

Ask 5, (More shenanigans with Twst cast)

Ask 6, (Vil, Silver, and Dawn)

Ask7, (Dawn's role in the future and Twst cast shenanigans)

Ask 8, (Lilia, Meleanor, and Levan shenanigans)

Ask 9, (Silver has an internal crisis in a fun way)

Ask 10, (YN and Lilia Drabble; Reunion between YN and Lilia in the future)

Ask 11, (YN pregnant again)

Ask 12, (Author breaks a few hearts)

Ask 13 (Author is thanked for the pain)

Ask 14 (Meleanor and Lilia squabble)

Ask 15 (drabble: you get kidnapped by a dragon on your wedding day)

Ask 16 (nrc learns about your legend)

Ask 17 (Lilia runs away from Meleanor)

Ask 18 (Lilia uses YN against Meleanor)

Ask 19 (Dawn wins a bet)

Ask 20 (family tree)

Ask 21 (Family eating naan and curry)

Ask 22 (OT3 reaction to the events of Glorious Masquerade)

Ask 23 (the Left General)

Ask 24 (Pregnancy and the Apple)

Ask 25 (Family Shenanigans: Lilia and Levan rebel, while Dawn is confused)

Ask 26 (Meleanor kidnappings continues)

Ask 27 (Time Wimey and Age Shenanigans)

Ask 28 (part 4 excerpt)

Ask 29 (YN pregnant with Lilia’s child/questionable eating habits)

Ask 30 (Auction for a date with YN, bidding chaos)

Ask 31 (the Accountant’s Woes)

Ask 32 (tattoos)

Ask 33 (Spider fae accountant)

Ask 34 (Lilia meets YN, who just arrived at Twisted Wonderland)

Ask 35 (Lilia oversleeps)

Ask 36 (the adventures of the Spider Fae Accountant)

Ask 37 (Anonie’s Soldier!Yuu)

Ask 38 (Peter the Spider Fae talk)

Ask 39 (thanking Peter the Spider Fae)

Ask 40 (YN has a nightmare and is comforted)

Ask 41 (Hana rambles about OT3)

Ask 42 (Plans against the Senate)

Ask 43 (Peter goes on vacation)

Ask 44 (the special dinner)

Ask 45 (lovely message from anon)

Ask 46 (YN and Silver relationship)

Ask 47 (Milf!Reader thoughts)

Ask 48 (Your future daughter visits you)

Other Tags

OT3 ask

OT3 Thoughts

Other AUs

Coffee Shop AU

OT3 alternate timeline au, Summary Details

Henrik’s Child AU

Malleus Draconia x Reader x Lilia Vanrouge

To Be Theirs

The One Most Loved

WIP Excerpt

[psiroller]

My Boy (We Don't See Each Other Much)

a third fic request from unkat has reached me for some gamer au shenanigans. cool, i thought, nice low stakes goofin off fun time au. lets put some military industrial complex in there

cw: institutionalized homophobia, vague references to USAmerican military operations in the 2000's, gamer lingo

The raid was a resounding success by their guild's lax standards. Chilchuck managed to pull a rare light armor piece he'd been looking for, finally catching him up to the modern game; he was surprised by how much damage the standard grinding mobs were doing to him now, even if his defense was always going to be lower than the tanks and fighters he partied with. Laios landed the biggest critical hit he'd ever seen; the broadsword Chilchuck nabbed for him off the Auction House was working well for him. He was clearly still riding the high, humming the victory fanfare under his breath as he took inventory and milled about with Senshi, comparing the ingredients they’d collected, trading amongst themselves. It was late, though, close to Senshi’s prep hours. Marcille was fighting against the cozy lethargy that followed a glass of wine and swiftly losing. Falin had already logged out to take a shower and head to bed, stopping by Laios’ door for a hug goodnight.

Laios went right back to the desktop after he shut the door. He pulled his headset back on and heard the familiar sound of Chilchuck’s raspy inhale and then a long, satisfied exhale.

“Chilchuck!” Laios said, too eagerly. “You’re still up?”

“No, I’m fast asleep,” Chilchuck drawled. Laios snorted and threw a rock at Chilchuck’s head. It passed through harmlessly; neither of them wanted the hassle of dedicated PVP. Maybe Laios wasn’t as keen on roleplaying as Marcille and Falin were, but the roleplaying server had been a lot kinder to him than the standard ones he usually played on.

“You were right about the sword,” Laios tittered. “I really have to start doing the math instead of just looking at bigger numbers—uh, focusing on how sharp the blade is, I mean.”

Chilchuck coughed through a laugh, leaning away from the mic so that it didn’t blow Laios’ eardrums out. “I think some of the guides are a little out of date,” Chilchuck said, relaxed enough to drop character. Marcille was still nearby, though the AFK symbol appeared under her name; the elf she played nodded off, ears drooping.  “Critical chance used to be calculated with this really convoluted system that also included timers, so there were only so many crits you could get in the span of a few minutes,” he went on. “They updated it recently so that you roll for a critical every hit.”

“Oh, thank God,” Laios said. “On a timer? How long did raids use to take?”

“Oh, upwards of four hours.” Chilchuck said casually. Laios sputtered. “I know, I know. I guess people had more free time back then… though with how people run multiple raids a night now, I guess it’s down to how committed you are.”

“So critical hit percentage is the thing I should focus on, then.”

“For your build, yeah.”

“Why does everyone recommend focusing on damage per second?”

“It’s a recent change, I think it got pushed out just before you signed up. They’ve tweaked it a lot, so people tend to get confused on how it works now, as it gets buffed and nerfed. Attack and attack speed used to be connected to the same value, so there are other ways you can focus on dealing damage instead of just right clicking the dragon and watching one of twelve timers tick down.” Chilchuck smiled and took another drag. “I think they’re trying to freshen things up a little. I like the changes.”

“Really? Everyone in the forums talks about how much they hate it.”

“If they’re old enough to be using the forums, they’re old enough to hate their favorite thing changing,” Chilchuck laughed.

“But not you,” said Laios. There was a warmth there that Chilchuck didn’t see a reason for.

“Eh.” Chilchuck’s ears burned under his headset. “Maybe a little bit. They don’t make shooters like they used to.” There was a pause. “Oh, right, you don’t like those.”

“Just the super hoo-rah military ones,” Laios breathed. “I can do Team Fortress 2. That one’s pretty fun.”

“Oh! I play that with—a friend, sometimes,” Chilchuck stammered. “Do you… I’m still kind of wired. I got a day off tomorrow. Do you—”

“Yeah!” His mic clipped. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wait, you don’t have a test tomorrow or anything, do you?”

“… No.”

“I don’t like that hesitation.”

Laios huffed and puffed and logged out of Dungeon Divers with little warning, but usernames were exchanged and soon Laios’ avatar (a dragon, what else) popped up in Chilchuck’s scant friend list, nestled between Dan and May.

“I didn’t think you’d be cool enough to play TF2,” Laios teased.

“Cool people play TF2? I thought it was all screaming toddlers.”

“There are a few of those, yeah,” Laios admitted.

“I played the original game. It was a lot different. I don’t really keep up with it these days, but…”

“No worries,” Laios chirped. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chilchuck felt something zip down his spine. “I’m not that bad.”

They played three matches with the usual late night crowd, and it was a miracle if Chilchuck could stay alive for longer than a minute or two, let alone get a kill. Laios, on the other hand, clawed up every scoreboard and sat at the top. He started with Sniper; Chilchuck followed him while waiting for his respawn timer to run out, flicking between first and third person views. He watched as opponents’ heads would pop like grapes the moment they touched Laios’ reticle, faster than Chilchuck’s eyes could tell his brain to move his fingers.

“Okay, maybe I’m pretty bad,” Chilchuck admitted. “Compared to you.”

Laios missed a shot and sputtered. “I’m concentrating…!” A Spy knifed him, and Chilchuck could hear Laios whack his mouse against the table in frustration. Chilchuck laughed.

“Relax, that’s your first one this round,” he teased. “Your reflexes are crazy. Maybe I’m getting too old for twitchy games like this.”

“The mechanics have changed a lot and all the tryhards are on,” Laios conceded, breathing out the annoyance. “I’ll switch to Heavy. Wanna be my Medic? I can keep more of an eye on you.”

Chilchuck sniffed at his demotion to pocket healer, but then at least he’d be getting assist kills. “Alright, fine.”

Many assist kills were had, and all was well. It was fun to watch Laios’ brain work, bobbing and weaving and jumping around. He played like May did, hyperfocused on the movement mechanics; Chuck’s wrists weren’t any good for that anymore, so he usually hung back to support anyway.

“So why TF2 and not Call of Duty?” Chilchuck asked between matches, lighting another cigarette in search of the now-elusive nicotine buzz. “Seems like you’re really good. You could probably go pro if you wanted.”

Chuck heard a rustling against the mic. Sounded like Laios fiddling with the thing, maybe rubbing his face. He heard a scratch of stubble.

“Eh. I just—don’t like the military aesthetic very much, or something,” Laios mumbled. “I, uh. I served, and it’s a little…”

Chilchuck coughed. “You served? As in, served in the army?”

“Yeah.” There was a chuckle from the other line. “What? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, you just never…” Chuck scratched at the nape of his neck. “You never said anything that made me think… I don’t know what I thought. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Laios snorted. “I was a good shot, but not a good soldier, if that makes any sense?”

Chuck wet his dry lips and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t lock into the next game, and the queue dumped them out. Laios didn’t reset it.

“So you objected? Conscientious objection? Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what it’s called, but uh… it takes a while to get that done if you enlisted voluntarily. You have to plead your case for it. I thought about it, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Chilchuck swallowed dryly, then tapped some ash out into the ceramic tray Patty made for him many Father’s Days ago. “So you were kicked out?”

“Discharged, yeah,” Laios sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back, too. “Other than honorable.”

Chuck winced. “What did you do?”

There was that rustling again. “I, um. If you don’t ask, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I”—Chilchuck’s eyes went wide—"ohhh.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? They booted you over a thing like that?”

Laios laughed weakly. “It’s in the regulations.”

“Still? When there’s, like, five wars going on?”

“Yep. I got a little pamphlet about it and everything. It’s rarer these days, and most people now get let off with an honorable, but…” Laios sighed. “My case was a whole thing. I didn’t fit in great with the rest of my platoon to begin with, and I maybe… I maybe misread some signals. You get bored out there, you know. Lonely. Got a little too close to my bunky…” Laios cleared his throat. “He let me down easy, but I guess he said something to somebody. I don’t think he’d go straight to the brass, he told me he wouldn’t, but someone must have overheard and that counts as credible evidence, so…”

Laios popped his lips with a click of his tongue. Chilchuck was frozen, ashes falling from the end of his cigarette into the crevices of his already dirty keyboard. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter; money burning up in unsmoked nicotine. “I was probably going to leave anyway,” Laios said, to fill the silence. “I didn’t like being out there. If anything it kept me from being stupid and going AWOL. But if you talk to the VA—or my dad, heh—I  might as well have.”

Laios wheezed. Chilchuck blinked some smoke out of his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hang on, you were on active duty and they’re hassling you at the VA over healthcare?”

“Oh yeah. Anything less than a general discharge is going to get you some hassle. I’m still on general health insurance, lowest tier. I’m not on TRICARE.”

Chilchuck pinched the pressure point between his eyebrows. “There’s gotta be a way to appeal that.”

“There might be. But I’ve spent about 40 hours of my life on the phone with them since I got back, and I’m not keen on spending anymore.” Laios made a blech sort of noise, disgusted, a little childish. “I hate phone calls. Besides, they gave me some money for college, so it wasn’t a complete wash.”

“Small miracles,” Chilchuck mumbled.

“Yup,” Laios breathed. He drummed his fingers on his desk, loud enough to reach the mic. Then there were a couple rhythmic bongo slaps against the table, nervous. “Ready for another game?”

Chuck looked at his watch. It was 4:32 AM.

“Sure. Night’s still young,” he said, for lack of anything comforting to say. “Play Heavy again.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and there was a smile in his voice. So that was something.

[veltana]

All my works are posted on AO3 but I’m in the process of posting the old stuff to tumblr as well.

Mafia AU series Read on AO3 | Read on tumblr 

Buy my heart - Alpha!Bucky series Read on AO3 | Read on tumblr

Sell my soul - Alpha!Lloyd series Read on AO3 | Read on tumblr

One shots

Groupie Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fan!fem!reader Explicit Since joining the Avengers you've been avoiding Bucky Barnes, afraid of what would happen if he ever learned the truth. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Highest bidder Friend!Steve Rogers/Virgin!fem!reader Explicit Tired of being a virgin and out of money you travel to Las Vegas to auction it off. Little do you know your friend Steve Rogers won't let anyone else have you. [AO3] [Tumblr]

I will kill them if they touch you Possessive!Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!reader Explicit Bucky is done with you going out with losers. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Like a shadow CEO!Bucky Barnes/PA!fem!reader Explicit You’re Bucky’s assistant. What happens when he notices you after six months? [AO3] [Tumblr]

Mutual satisfaction Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Avengers!fem!reader Explicit Movie night turns into something you could never have imagined. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Riding into the night Biker!Bucky Barnes/Fem!reader Explicit You meet Bucky at a bar. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Shared Desires Bucky/Fem!reader, Steve/Fem!reader, brief Bucky/Steve Explicit With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. [AO3] [Tumblr]

The winter rebound Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!reader Explicit You go with your friend to Mr. Stark's holiday party [AO3] [Tumblr]

Unleashed Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!reader Explicit Bucky becomes exposed to a chemical during a mission and all he needs is you. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Crossovers

Incentive Ari Levinson/Fem!reader + Stucky/Reader Explicit Ari is having a business meeting and you wouldn’t mind being used to sweeten the deal. [AO3] [Tumblr] Gift Ari Levinson/Fem!reader + Stucky/Reader Explicit Ari surprises you for your birthday with a special gift. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Such a bad day Ari Levinson/Fem!reader/Jake Jensen Explicit You're moping because it's raining but Ari and Jake know how to turn that frown into something else. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Drabbles

Bucky and his PA at a gala. Inspired by Sebastian at the Met gala 2024 [AO3] [Tumblr]

Steve comes home after a stressful day Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

Girl’s night! [AO3] [Tumblr]

Your favorite babe being dirty Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

Steve and condoms Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

This Johnny Storm art sparked something in me! Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

You’re the one that got away and he sees you at a wedding [AO3] [Tumblr]

Bucky and Steve are your roommates  Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

Running from your abusive ex [AO3] [Tumblr]

Choose your own adventure Explicit [AO3] [Tumblr]

Professor!Spencer Reid series

Sunday funday  Professor!Spencer Reid/Student!Reader  Explicit You’re unsatisfied after a disappointing weekend and find your professor on a special kind of dating app. [AO3] [Tumblr]

Relentless Pleasures Professor!Spencer Reid/Student!Reader Explicit Fucking your professor might have been the best and the worst decision of your life. Is it just sex or do both of you want something more? When an unsub makes their way towards your university, you and Spencer are forced to face your feelings for each other a lot sooner than any of you had counted on. [AO3] [Tumblr]

One shots

Carry you to bed BAU!Spencer Reid/Agent!Reader Explicit You’re on loan to the BAU and during your first case you fall asleep in the car.  [AO3] [Tumblr]

If you want to come Spencer Reid/Luke Alvez/best friend!Reader Explicit There has always been something between you and Luke but it has never led to anything. On a rare night off you’re supposed to have dinner and catch up but end up going out with his co-workers. [AO3] [Tumblr]