#and they had the audacity to deny my opt out request

[fruityphoenix]

with all the shitty news with insta happening right now, i’m probably going to slowly leave the platform and focus more on art here! not like i have any new stuff to post (rip), but i’ll post more of my older art and probably some wips too!! and of course i’ll finally start talking about my stories and releasing things for my comic!! it’ll just be world and character stuff for now but i’m going to explode if i don’t talk about them. idk how yet but i might just start with incoherent nonsense. gonna be insane on main ehehehe :3

[mandoalorian]

Believer [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: After two months since your last encounter, The Mandalorian returns to confession. (Part two of Sinner)

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, religion kink, confession box blowjob, sex in a place of worship, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, fingering, dark!Din, rough sex, hints of degradation, teasing, orgasm denial, arranged marriage mention.

Word Count: 3000>

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

It had been two months since your encounter with The Mandalorian, and you hadn’t seen him since. Even after your father returned from Naboo, Din remained absent from attending mass. You were beginning to believe you might never see him again, and yet, you clung onto hope. It was all you had. When your father went to bed, you’d stay in the chapel late, hoping he’d come in again. It was exhausting. Surely The Mandalorian still had sins to confess. Your biggest fear was that he was deliberately trying to avoid you. He had this dark aura to him, and so if his only intention that night was to wreck your innocence, you wouldn’t be surprised. The truth is, you’d let him do it a million times over.

You missed him. You missed his gruff nature and his bluntness, and you missed the sound of his voice, with or without the modulator of his helmet. And ah-- his helmet-- the shiny silver beskar. You missed that too, although your encounter with Din had left you yearning to know more. You wonder what he looked like underneath the helmet. You remember the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and led down to the waistband of his underwear. From that alone, you’d made the judgement that he’s probably brunette. You wondered how well groomed he was, whether or not he opted to be clean shaven or don facial hair. But most importantly, you wondered about his eyes. You believed that the eyes were the most telling feature about a person, and that they could hold a thousand secrets. Could they be blue, or green, or perhaps even the most beautiful shade of honey brown?

It was a Sunday night, just shy off two a.m., and you let out a tired yawn. You were beginning to think he’d never show again, and that you were foolish for waiting up so late. You had visions of the Mandalorian waltzing back into the chapel and rescuing from this lifestyle. You had dreams of him whisking you away and showing you the galaxy. So, on this particular night, when Din returned, you weren’t even sure if he was really him.

You weren’t sure how long he had been standing there for, leaning against the confession box, watching you drift in and out of sleep as you curled up on the front pew. His beskar clad arms were folded across his chest and his head was tilted slightly. He was eerily quiet, and when your eyes finally met his (through his visor, at least), his presence was ghost-like.

“Tired?” The Mandalorian asked, his deep, modulated voice breaking the silence. Although it was less of a question and more of an acknowledgement. He was the first to speak, and of course it was a typical cocky remark. You didn’t even realise how much you’d missed that side to him; the rude and degrading side. That was how you knew it was really him. You’d been a good girl your entire life; your mind was simply not equipped to make this stuff up. “Did you miss me?”

You rubbed your eyes and stood up from your seat on the pew, taking a second to process his presence. Did you miss him? You’d been touching yourself to the memory of his cock every single night since your encounter, and he had the audacity to ask if you missed him? Of course, you’d never willingly admit to that. Especially not to him. 

When you didn’t reply, he stalked over to the front pew, his broad shoulders looming over you.

“Went back to visiting brothels,” Din revealed, bringing his gloved hand to your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “But they just don’t do it like you.”

“We aren’t in the confession box, Mando.” you snapped back, and his grip around you tightened as he chuckled. You nervously diverted your gaze from his and he raised his hand so he could grab your chin. He tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“Well, I’m here to confess.”

As you walked Din back over to the box, you noticed your panties were already slick with arousal. You’d anticipated this moment for months, but of course, you weren’t inclined to give into him that easy. You were excited though, hoping and praying that this would turn into more than just a typical confession session.

“State your name for the records.” you sigh, following procedure as you shuffled down onto your chair. 

“Din Djarin.”

The way he spoke his own name was just as beautiful as you had remembered. 

“And why are you here today?” you asked. 

There was a brief silence before you were met with the Mandalorian’s low, gravelly voice. He’d taken off his helmet. 

“I want you to suck my cock.” 

His request winded you. Blunt and straight to the point. Honestly? You should’ve seen it coming. The thought of him fucking your mouth sent you in a frenzy, and you found yourself fighting the urge to touch yourself right then and there.

“That’s your confession?” you gulped, your fingers fiddling with the royal blue velveteen curtain that separated you both from seeing one another. You sighed and shook your head. “We can’t…” you trailed off, and you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue. This was everything you had waited for and now you were denying him? “It was wrong of us to do in the first place and I— it’s going to take a lot for me to move past it.”

“Do you still think about it?” Din asked, and his question bore a lot of weight as he reminisced on the night you and him spent together.. Inside the confession box was cold, so much so that a  shiver that ran down your spine.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said softly. “I’m… getting married in the Summer.” you revealed, almost shyly. Din felt his freeze over and heart sink into his chest. Married? So fast? When he made no comment, you explained further. You tried to sound enthusiastic and positive, but the words just died as they left your lips. “My father found a minister who preaches on Takodana. He’s a little older than I, and even trained as a monk for several years. I hear Takodana is beautiful. Have you been before?”

Din scoffed incredulously, but you weren’t sure if the noise that came from the back of his throat was answering your question, or if it just signified his response to everything you had just said. He couldn’t believe it. “Just like I told you the last time we met,” he hummed knowingly. “If you marry him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

This wasn’t the first time he had given you attitude. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“And what do you suggest I do?” you spat back. You weren’t just going to let him stick around if he was only going to make you feel bad for your decisions and what he considered to be poor life choices. 

Din laughed, and if there wasn’t a closed curtain between you both, you would have smacked him right then and there. “I suggest you do what I ask without all the backchat,” he growled. “I suggest you get on your knees, open your pretty mouth, and suck my cock.”

You wanted to argue. You so desperately wanted to argue with him until he was begging for you, but you had waited too long for this too. You were desperate to taste him.

“Stand up, take off your pants, you instructed, biting your lip as you heard his zipper go down.

Once he was ready, Din stood with his hands flat against the wooden wall of the confession box, and you peeled back the curtain. You fell to your knees and wrapped your hands around his thick length, already revelling in how hot and heavy it felt. Din’s eyes snapped shut as you pumped his manhood. He’d missed the feeling of your soft hands. You gathered his precum which was leaking from the pink tip and rubbed it along his shaft.

Teasingly, you pressed a delicate kiss to his weeping slit. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but buck his hips at the tender contact. “More.” he huffed, his once flat hands bunching into a fist when you press in another kiss. But this time, your kiss turns into a small kitten lick as you taste him on your tongue. And Maker, he tastes good.

“Stay still sweetheart.” you grumbled, and your voice sent a vibration straight through his core. Sweetheart? He huffed again.

He was fully and achingly hard now. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking longingly. You removed your hands from his shaft and closed your eyes as you pushed down on him, trying to take his full, thick length in your virgin throat. It took about a minute for you to get fully adjusted, but the second you began to bob your head and suck him off, Din swore he was seeing stars. With every thrust of your mouth, you managed to push deeper and deeper until the curve of his nose was pressed against the soft tufts of brown hair just above his cock.

When you felt him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close. You reached your hand through the dip in the curtain and began to cradle his balls, massaging them as his moans became louder and more guttural. As much as you wanted him to shoot his salty load down your throat, you knew that this might be the only chance you got to dominate your control over him. So, at the very last second before he could cum, you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’. 

He cursed out loud at the sudden loss of contact, and you wiped the trail of saliva mixed with precum from your lips. You could hear Din fussing from the otherside of the curtain and just as you were about to ask him what was he doing, his hand shot between the material as he passed you a piece of black cloth. Truly, it looked like he’d ripped a piece of his undershirt to craft it. When you took it from him, albeit hesitantly, his voice gave you instruction.

“Put it on,” he ordered. “Blindfold yourself.”

His voice had dropped an octave since you denied him of his orgasm. 

Nevertheless, you obliged, wrapping the material around your eyes so you couldn’t see a thing. “Done.”

Din came out from the confession box and opened the door to your side, carefully guiding you out and walking you over to the candlelit altar.

“Lie down.” he told you gruffly.

It was hard to make a judgement in regards to where exactly in the chapel you were, but for some reason, you felt as though you could trust him. He pushed you back down to your knees and you felt the soft carpet beneath you. 

Your pussy was dripping wet at this point, desperate for some kind of relief. In one swift motion, Din ripped your robe from you and you felt the material tear. He threw the garments to the floor and immediately latched his mouth to your breast. His tongue swirled around the hardening bud of your nipple and with his free hand, he began to caress and squeeze the breast that wasn’t receiving the attention of his lips. He palmed at the soft flesh and revelled in the way your moans escaped from your lips. He trailed his late hand down your stomach and stopped when he hit the hem of your panties. Din pulled off you and swapped over, this time sucking your other breast, even nibbling this time with his teeth. He lowered his hand and began to rub you through the thin white material of your underwear.

You felt him chuckle darkly against your chest as he felt just how wet you were. It was all for him, and he’d barely even touched you yet. He swirled his index finger over your clit and even through the cotton, the sensation was indescribable. You wanted nothing more than for him to rip off your panties the same way he’d ripped off your robes.

Din drew back from you and held you by your shoulders, slowly pushing you down so you were laying on your back with your legs spread open for him. He began to tug at your waistband and you lifted your ass up so he could pull down your panties.

He tossed them by your robes and parted your legs once more. He admired the way your cunt looked under the glowing amber candlelight, the way your juices sparkled like they were asking to be ravished by him.

“So pretty.” Din praised.

Din couldn’t contain himself any longer. He latched his tongue against your clit and began sucking profusely. That’s when you realised one of the questions you’d been dwelling on for the past two months had been answered. He definitely had facial hair. The roughness of his stubble grazing the softness of your cunt felt phenomenal. Every now and again, he’d pull back and separate your folds with his fingers, focusing his erratic tongue on your exposed sweet spot. He’d lap you up like a starved man, moaning at the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

Just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, Din plunged two fingers deep inside of you without warning. You let out a yelp and arched your back as he tongue fucked you even faster. You grew impossibly wetter and he began to stretch you out, prepping you for his thick cock.

He pushed one orgasm out of you first though, and left you shaking and twitching and struggling to regain your breath as you squirmed around on the floor, completely at his demand. Before you could even come down from your thigh, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust his cock inside of you.

“Oh— oh fuck, I’ve missed this.” he groaned, tossing his head back as pleasure ran through his veins. Tears pricked your eyes, not that Din would’ve known, since you were blindfolded and all. He set a rough and ruthless pace, his hips snapping into yours as he got drunk on the feeling of your perfect walls clamping around him. “‘Missed this.. mi— missed you.”

You chanted his name over and over again like it was the sweetest prayer to ever leave your lips. 

“Oh f—fuck Din,” you gasped, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back. “Feels so good.”

He couldn’t believe how wet and tight you were. You locked your legs around his ass, signalling for him to keep going. Din looked down at you, revelling in the way you were gasping beneath him. In that moment, he wished he could remove the blindfold from you and look into your beautiful eyes as he fucked you senseless. His gaze dropped down to your pretty, soft lips, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you. 

Din groaned when he increased his speed and their bodies made the most unadulterated wet sounds as skin slapped skin. Your toes curled as you felt another orgasm bubble up inside the pit of your tummy. Din was close too, in fact-- he’d been holding back this entire time. His breathing became laboured and with one final thrust, The Mandalorian let out a strangled cry, his body seizing up as he came. You felt his manhood throb inside of you, the pulsations pushing you over the edge as you clenched around him, tight like a vice. 

Din stayed hovering over you as you both came down from your high, and he waited until his cock softened before pulling out of you and rolling over and laying next to you.

You shuffled into his warm chest and he wrapped his strong arms around you. The silence between you both was comfortable, as it always had been. The dynamic between you both felt so natural, despite both of you heeding very different personalities. 

Once again, Din was the first to speak.

“Leave, right now, with me.” He whispered, cradling your naked body as it warmed by the candlelight. 

“I can’t.” you replied sadly, blinking away the unshed tears that glazed your sparkling eyes. You wished you could. You wished there was a way around all of this, where you didn’t have to stay and marry the Takodanian preacher, but everything had already been planned. And your father, the grand bishop, would never approve.

“I’ve been on the run my whole life,” Din revealed, shifting his weight slightly. His strong arms tightened around you and his fingers traced comforting circles on your tummy. You nuzzled your head into his chest and relished his scent, knowing that this might well be the last time you see The Mandalorian. “I’ve seen the entire galaxy. Takodana is beautiful. I do think you’ll like it…” Din paused. “But I think you’ll like spending time with me even more.”

At one point, you might have laughed at his arrogance, but in the softness of the moment, you realised, he was right. You didn’t want to leave Din and get married to a complete stranger. You just didn’t want to leave Din.

“What can you offer me?” you asked the Mandalorian after a pause. You wouldn’t ask for much. You had grown up in a very minimalistic household after the grand bishop renounced all his material possessions. The question was more so rhetoric.

Din leaned into you, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell l @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl l @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal l  @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes @honeymandos​ @rocketqueen  @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth h @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel l @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @ladyjenny19 @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

Taglist for ‘Sinner’ (and people who expressed interest in a part two): @guiidiiosa @pascalpanic @fucktheforce @rosalierowan @auty-ren @thewayofthemandalorian @whatababeleia

[purplylinos]

painful glitters ♡ kim hyunjin

♡ requested; no

♡ genre; star tear disease, angst. that’s literally it

♡ pairing(s); gn!reader x hyunjin

♡ word count; 1.5k

♡ warnings; mentions of not eating, explicit language, major character death

♡ description; in a world where glitter isn’t necessarily a favored thing, it happens to hit hyunjin of all people. falling for you was a terrible idea in the first place, she hated that her heart betrayed her. in the end, she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t going to happen. it was impossible to think that you even knew hyunjin herself existed outside of that damned coffee shop.

♡ notes; and we’re back w loona yeah yeah <33 this is my first time hearing about the star tear disease so! if there’s someone in particular that i should credit pls pls let me know :) 

blinking and hearing the faint twinkling sound sent a pang through hyunjin’s chest, it was finally happening.

she had awaited the noise for who knows how long at this point. she knew her love for you wouldn’t be returned, only knowing each other in the coffee shop.

the coffee shop. nothing more, nothing less. 

just the damned coffee shop.

fuck.

where you would sit behind the register with your chin in the palm of your hand, eyes lighting up whenever hyunjin bounced in to tell about some random animal she had met on her way to the cozy building. how dumb was she to think that was going to give her some sort of hope at a relationship?

why was it you?

hyunjin sniffled before moving off of the couch, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. there they were, the first three stars and flecks of glitter accompanying them, sitting on her left cheek. pressing her lips together, she wiped the glitter away from her cheek, sucking a breath in. her hope was diminishing quickly, there was no way things could clear up. a few shaky breaths later, hyunjin left the bathroom and switched the light off, climbing into bed with a sad smile.

she had two weeks. two weeks to try and get this sorted out, or she would lose her vision forever.

and it’d be your fault.

you, you, you. all of this traces back to you.

hyunjin went three days without leaving her apartment, the amount of glitter and stars being left on her cheeks and pillows growing as time passed. on the fourth day of what would soon become a sparkly hell, hyunjin sat up and wrapped her arms around her body, a heavy sob wracking through her body. ”why? why?” she half-yelled, gaining the attention of her tabby cat, who sat at the edge of the girl’s bed. all hyunjin wanted was you. she wanted your arms to be wrapped around her shaking body, she wanted you to kiss the pain that hit her heart away, to make the faint twinkling and restless nights, the sharp sensations in her eyes, all hyunjin wanted was for you to fall in love with her, for all of the horrible things to stop. 

you were almost intoxicating in a certain aspect. a getaway to an alternate reality, a world of bliss. 

hyunjin needed that world of bliss in a terrible type of way. she never knew she could be so desperate for something that was so obviously out of her grasp.

but the universe never let her have her way.

the fifth day. nine days left with somewhat normal vision. it had been a while since hyunjin had eaten properly, and it was showing in her weight and complexion. she was paler, she had lost so much weight in so little time. you wree doing so much that you weren’t even aware of. it had gotten to the point where hyunjin was incapable of just dusting the stars and glitter off of her pillowcases, she left whatever fell off of her face there. one could see the occasional stars and glitter flecks decorating her hair and back. 

a heavy sigh slipped through the girl’s lips before hoisting herself out of her bed, swapping her sweats and hoodie for a pink turtleneck and black leggings.

pink. a color you looked damn good in. 

you, you, you. everything reminded her of you.

a quiet sob fought its way out of hyunjin, a faint twinkling coming along with it. hyunjin darted into the bathroom and switched the light on, studying herself in the mirror.

she was so pale, so skinny, bags were present underneath her eyes as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. she blinked a few times and pressed her hands against her face, pressing her lips together before switching the light off and finding the nearest pair of shoes and slipping them on. she was 90% sure they didn’t match her outfit, but the glitter that pooled in her eyes made it difficult to see anything 100% clearly. 

glitter. caused by you.

and to think that this was only the fifth day. 

she grabbed her keys off of the coat rack, leaving her apartment and locking the door behind her. the coffee shop. that was the only thing on her mind as she hurried down the stairs, walking briskly on the sidewalk as if it was the last thing she was going to leave her apartment to do. she had to see you, if it was the last thing her body was going to be capable of. pushing the door open to said building, she was greeted with a warm gust of air blowing out of the shop and your bright smile from behind the register, one that quickly faded -- presumably from the state of hyunjin’s physical appearance. “oh shit, are you okay?” you asked with concern laced in your voice as you moved from behind the counter, running to hyunjin. “what happ— oh..” you, the once panicking cashier’s eyes, filled with a sense of compassion, sympathy, hyunjin couldn’t tell. 

“day five,” she mumbled, answering your unanswered question. 

“whoever doesn’t have the audacity to love you back is the stupidest fucker in the world.” hyunjin’s breath caught in the back of her throat, a sad smile being displayed on her face.

“if only you knew,” she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. 

not smart to refer to yourself as ‘the stupidest fucker.’

she couldn’t stay here, she couldn’t slip up and say something, that wouldn’t make you fall in love with her on the spot. it wouldn’t save her, it wouldn’t save her eyesight.

even though the disease wasn’t fatal in itself, the side effects of not being able to see, of not reaching out to find help. they were bound to kill her.

“text me, okay?” hyunjin noted softly, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze before turning to leave the coffee shop. 

“w-wait,” you called out, taking a small step forward. “is there anything i can do to help?”

fall in love with me.

“no, i wish there was. i’m sorry.”

that was the last time hyunjin had opted to see you.

countless unanswered phone calls and text messages made hyunjin’s phone buzz to life, yet she never found the motivation to answer them, knowing they were all coming from you, the source of her problems.

the tenth day had approached, and glitter absorbed more than half of hyunjin’s vision at this point. she couldn’t lie to herself, she was more than amazed at the pretty glimmers that everything in her room gave off, but it became harder and harder to see clearly to the point where she was confined to her bed. thankful for the day she accidently knocked over her cat’s dry food, at least he didn’t have to live out a terrible fate. you were the only person running through hyunjin’s mind. four days left until she completely lost all ways of sight.

because of you.

hyunjin’s phone never ceased to stop buzzing, yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer it. half the reason being she couldn’t see what was going on majority of the time, the other half being the fact that she doesn’t want you to know.

she didn’t want you to know how she was doing, how close she was to losing her vision, how close she was to dying.

how you were the one who did this to her.

day eleven was the worst yet. everything had an incredible shimmer to it. hyunjin couldn’t even change the direction of her eyes without wincing in pain. every time she blinked, one could hear the soft twinkling of the glitter falling from her eyelashes. it was getting worse, and there was nothing she could do about it.

she couldn’t properly eat, she could never see what she was grabbing, or cooking. she could never drink water without swallowing multiple flecks of glitter and the occasional star fleck. she could hear her tabby cat pattering around the apartment, but it didn’t make matters better for hyunjin. in fact, she felt terrible knowing that at some point, she was going to have to leave her baby kitty behind. 

day twelve, day thirteen, day fourteen.

they all seemed to merge together into one. hyunjin couldn’t see anything, each glitter fleck reflected off of one another. her breathing was shallow, kitten resting on her chest. almost as if he was telling her it was okay to let go. hyunjin’s head felt fuzzy, she was caving quicker than she could have ever expected. taking her last few breaths, there were three things that she couldn’t help but let fill her ears. 

the sweet tinkling of the glitter falling from her eyes, her kitten peacefully purring on her chest, and you finally pushing your way into hyunjin’s apartment. the younger felt at peace. she was fading, and she was okay with it.

“hyunjin? hyunjin?! hyunjin, please for the love of god! stay with me, you’re gonna be okay, come on. please, please, please.”

you stood in front of hyunjin, reading the engraved stone over and over again. “i’m so sorry” was all that you could muster up to say. closing your eyes, you sobbed quietly, a few small glitter flecks falling from your eyes.

oh, fuck.

[write-it-good-imagines]

Cappuccino and a cookie - Park Jinyoung

Synopsis: Park Jinyoung is a silent observer and things rarely catch his eye. However, when they do, it’s frustrating.

Alrightie! This is another one-shot for our dearest peachy prince, Jinyoung. I was daydreaming, again, and this idea shot me dead. I hope it is fit to your liking. Enjoy!!

sheer fluff i’d say? 1.8k words

It drove Park Jinyoung crazy.

Constantly thinking about it made him even crazier. Sometimes he’d just become moody without any logical explanation.

Why did he have to play the uninterested card so often?

JYP’s new building was located in a nice area and the members had already found their way to secure a café nearby as their own little escaping place, just as they did back in Gangnam. But they weren’t the first ones there.

Taking a much-desired break, all of the boys decided to go for lunch at that certain place. The menu offered good and cheap food and the coffee was to die for, according to the rumors; it was just perfect. The atmosphere was cozy. People did not seem to mind they were there at all and the personnel was nice, too. Apart from the relaxing music and comfortable setting, one thing caught Jinyoung’s eyes the moment they seated themselves: there was a sole cup of coffee with a cookie placed on a table where no one was sitting.

He ignored it at first, joking along with the members. Soon afterward, an unknown silhouette entered the café and claimed the seat at the table. He wouldn’t normally pay attention to people he didn’t know, although he analyzed them a little. Instead, that person made him look twice. You were instantly greeted by a staff member, who also happened to be a man, and you quickly said something to him. Your bright smile, directed at said person, made him cock his eyebrow.

It was the same process every day. You were always ten minutes late to the same order placed on the same table, always with the same warm greeting and the usual routine you had. You’d take out a book, which most of the time would be a psychological study, and take notes here and there. Your forehead would wrinkle a little at times, then re-read what you thought you didn’t understand.

But your messy hair always tugged in a bun, with a sole strand tickling your face, the small smile you always wore on your lips and the gentle movement of fingers turning pages? Absolutely mesmerizing.

The guys liked it there and much to Jinyoung’s satisfaction, they always came around for lunch. Luckily, you came too, to study. Or read something of your choice. Two weeks later, Jinyoung read ‘F. Scott Fitzgerald’ on the cover of your book and wondered all of a sudden how romantic you might be. It shocked himself. He widened his eyes at the thought and quickly shook his head. Why was he getting curious?

Each passing day, he’d start noticing the little things. The way the foam would linger in the corner of your mouth, or the way you twisted the pencil in between the fingers, even how you took your time to savor your sweets. The members would start noticing how Jinyoung’s eyes lingered a little too long towards that particular table where you always sat alone.

They tried squeezing information out of him. God knows how curious Bambam and Yugyeom were. No success. Then Mark tried a softer approach; a failure as well. Jackson took his chance, to no avail. Even Youngjae who had a certain way with words. He never spoke about you. Not even the pestering questions that started appearing in his own mind about you would get him flustered.

Until suddenly you didn’t come.

It was a shock for him altogether. That day, he only dropped by with Jaebum for a casual chat about their projects and a good cup of coffee. It was around the same time you made your appearance, and the usual order would be there.

Jinyoung waited for a while, bracing himself for you. Fifteen, twenty minutes, half an hour passed. And someone else seated themselves at your table. So the male employee that always greeted you took away your order.

As soon as the said employee came to bring their orders, Jinyoung’s frustration surfaced without him realizing.

“Excuse me, did the lady that always sits right about there come earlier?”

Jaebum’s expression changed at his friend’s words. Then a smirk followed that Jinyoung noticed firsthand.

“Ah, no. She didn’t come today. I had to put away the order. It’s strange, she’s been our regular.”

Jinyoung nodded and thanked him. Jaebum leaned over the table, his elbows placed on top of it and his hands locked. He oozed with curiosity.

“So…you’ve been eyeing her.”

Jinyoung’s chances for escape were minimal. “What are you talking about?”

“Stop playing it cool.” Jaebum laughed and folded his arms over his chest. “I genuinely thought that if you didn’t tell Jackson anything, there really was nothing going on. Aish, I almost gave up, too.”

Jinyoung scratched at his nape and looked away. Being a good actor wouldn’t make him avoid the situation. “I lost it at Fitzgerald, though the psychology studies are impressive on their own.”

“I knew it! I could have bet money on that.” Jaebum snapped his fingers, annoyingly satisfied with himself. “You know, anyone else would have ignored those little glances of yours. You almost fooled me. Why didn’t you go introduce yourself?”

Jinyoung perked up at his friend’s words as if he was told the Earth is flat. “That’s utter nonsense, hyung.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jinyoung was getting frustrated. “Did it look to you as if she had any interest in either of us here?”

Jaebum took his chin in between his fingers and nodded. “No.”

“See?” the other sighed and leaned back in his seat, defeated. “She won’t look at guys like me.”

“I think you’re being delusional.” Jaebum scolded his friend. “She was not looking at anyone, not only us. You can clearly see she’s focused on whatever she does.”

That she practically ignores everyone but the damn employee. Jaebum noticed the little flinch. He continued. “What if she stopped coming for good? You’d regret it.”

Jinyoung sighed. He knew his friend was right and he knew how stupid he was for not shooting his chance. He acknowledged what Jaebum said and pondered over it, but he wouldn’t accept that Jaebum was right. And he was miserably right. That week you just wouldn’t walk in the damn café and it drove him crazy.

By the end of the week, he wanted to stop coming to the café just so it wouldn’t remind himself of his foolishness. If it wasn’t for Jackson that practically dragged him there because the sandwiches were ‘ just so good ’, he would have gotten angry with himself. Because you came back. He noticed you positioning yourself behind him in the considerable queue that was already formed.

Jinyoung panicked. He did not expect you to be back and certainly not in such proximity. If anything, he considered saying something to you if you were seated at your table. He was pretty well-read himself, so he’d ask your opinion on a common topic. Or he’d say he happened to notice what you were reading and appreciate your choice, depending on the book. And with a little bit of owned experience, the conversation would carry on.

But what was he supposed to do now?

You carried all your baggage in your arms. Should he offer to help and say it would have been hard for you to get your order? No, that would be barbarically direct, although it could have worked. Yet as he was busy sketching his little plan, the chance arrived a little earlier than expected.

Jinyoung felt you being pushed into his back, most likely by an impatient bystander, and all of your things clattered to the floor. You gasped softly and knelt to the ground, in an attempt to gather your stuff hurriedly.

“Oh come on, can’t you move faster?” the same person who was guilty of bumping into you roared at you.

The audacity.

You didn’t get the chance to open your mouth to counter his words because the person who you bumped into quickly took charge. “Excuse me sir, but you are at fault for bumping into her. You shouldn’t pose into the victim here.”

You looked up at him and suddenly felt weak in the knees. The impatient man behind you opted to click his tongue and not continue the argument. He probably realized he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Jinyoung knelt down to gather all of your things instead. “I’m so sorry this happened,” you blurted out, hoping he would not be mad at you. You were fed up with situations like these and it probably showed on your face, as it usually did.

Jinyoung smiled at you, his eyes curling into crescents. He saw the fire burning in your eyes, covered tactfully by the silent apology your expression offered. He was proud of himself for stepping in. “What for? Even if it was a mistake, no one should treat a lady like that.”

“I know, right?” you rolled your eyes and heard him chuckle. You were careful with words, but your face would betray you shamelessly. You mentally cursed yourself.

“Looks like it’s our turn. Do you want me to place your order while you grab a seat?”

Jackson was watching the scene with a silent smirk on his face. He was impressed with Jinyoung.

“If it’s not much trouble for you? I want a cappuccino and a cookie, please!”

Jinyoung eyed Jackson before he could say something along the lines of ‘he knows that already’. Jackson took the hint and walked away.

“Perfect.”

Jinyoung watched you reclaim your spot and placed your order just as requested. Jackson dramatically extended his hand for a shake, his lips pursed in a proud expression. “That was first class flirting! Damn.”

Jinyoung laughed and raked his hair with his fingers. “It was cool, wasn’t it?”

“Go get it, actor Park! You smooth criminal. I’ll just walk to the practice room silently with just my sandwich unlike you who just won the lottery!”

“Ah, Seun-ah, it’s not like that.” Jinyoung tried to deny the facts, although the smile glued to his face said otherwise. He glanced in your direction and caught you staring. He expected you to break the sudden contact; you didn’t. He would not deny fate, not again.

“Or you know what?” he hissed as he grabbed the tray with both of your orders. “I’ll tell you what winning the lottery feels like.”

[oikawas-fav-alien]

Dominant | Taichi Kawanishi x Reader

✧ Summary: Student body president to the most renown school in the Miyagi Prefecture, it made you wonder how Kawanishi, a regular on the infamously dominant volleyball team, was such a lazy jackass.

warnings: language, otherwise none, rated K+ :)

✧ Masterlist  ✧

As the student body president, it was your sworn duty to uphold the high ethics as a student and leader. Many often described your personality as rough or overly haughty from your mean-looking resting face. However, they continued to vote for you simply because you were the most qualified and your very presence screamed authority. You wanted to pursue politics in the future and therefore treated the role professionally. In your first-year, you were already elected as a delegate to the student government. Second-year, you were the vice president. And in your third-year you were the highest position possible. The only thing that kept you held back before was the very fact that underclassmen were not allowed to run as president.

You used the position as practice and cared for your potential constituents. There were a few major players here and there, thankfully they were your friends. Growing up alongside Ushijima and Tendou had their benefits. If you had the favor of the volleyball team, you might as well have the whole school crawling in the palm of your hand. Thankfully, none of the people actually on the team could run for student government since they were so busy with the sport. To win over the rest of the student body, there was a fairly popular second-year student who came from a wealthy family that many just looked up to. You often questioned why she did not run for student govt. and once asked her why.

After spotting her at the library, you decided on approaching the girl, “You would be perfect and I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks senpai, but nah. After you’ve seen the shit that I’ve seen... You wouldn’t want to be the leader of such arrogant little sheep.”

You laughed at her metaphor and asked, “I didn’t know sheep could be conceited?”

“Of course! They’ll give you all the attitude in the world, but still follow you in the end.” She joked. Behind her you recognized the light tuft of brown hair that indicated the presence of the current starting setter of the volleyball team.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Shirabu-kun.” You nodded to the boy who was waiting for the girl in front of you, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from your boyfriend.” Almost instantly, they both denied the claim. The both of them were rather sheepish in their words and you wondered really if the two of them did not have something going on.

“That’s cute. Well, when you guys end up going to the spring formal together, be sure to send pictures to the Shiratorizawa Academy page on Instabook!” You advertised to the blushing couple, walking away before they assaulted you with more denials.

You were early to your class and browsed away on said application to see the newest posts. Since you were the secret wielder of the Shiratorizawa page, you saw everything. People were still liking the post of Semi and his girlfriend at the autumn formal and that had been months ago. There were various other couples scattered throughout the page, but when other students saw Semi and his significant other, they could not help but think, “Goals af.”

They were going strong and you could not help but feel a hint of jealousy. You grew up in Shiratorizawa Academy in both junior high and high school and there was not a single person in your year that you were not already previously associated with. The boys were those who were immature or simply someone you did not see pursuing. After seeing Tendou eat four-crayons in fourth-grade or Ohira singing along to the barbie-girl theme song, you could say that your view of many of the boys was incredibly skewed. You knew them for too damn long and there was no way you could date any of them. On the flip-side, the people you spent most of you life with knew your name, face, and outgoing personality more than any other candidate. You won the popular vote with a landslide majority, even during your first-year when three other people were running for the same position. This also came with an obvious disadvantage. Almost everyone knew you and that put yourself in a large spotlight. Your daily life was constantly broadcasted and you had to put on a sunny demeanor even if you were having a bad day. Teachers expected the very best from you and anything less would indicate that you were not prepared to be president, forget being prime minister.

It was unfair of your teachers to take advantage of your position, but you took it with stride and a chin held high. It was your sworn duty and you would not slack on any given responsibility. You would volunteer to help clean a classroom in addition to your duties in student government. To do this and uphold good grades in advanced classes, your social life was nearly obliterated. The only person you kept in daily contact with was him, a new project that a teacher assigned to you almost out of spite.

He was a starting middle-blocker on the volleyball team. That fact in itself made you assume that he was as diligent as Ushijima or his very roommate Shirabu, or really like most of the other members of the male volleyball team. His transcript showed his engagement in advanced classes since junior high. And yet, the teacher aggressively requested that you tutor the young man.

And you learned rather quickly that Kawanishi Taichi was an ass.

It really bothered you that a man with his potential failed to fully utilize it. You had better odds finding Kawanishi asleep in his dorm than in the library with his supposed study group. In advanced, you asked several times for the two of you to meet the group and study there. And more than once, he failed to show up and you simply studied with Shirabu and his not-girlfriend.

After that escapade, you made sure to show-up directly at his door with the reading material, snacks – so he could not complain about being hungry – and enough prayers to Jesus to help you through this trial.

You were sat-up on the edge of his bed, dictating to him which sections of the chapter and the appropriate equations he should memorize for the upcoming exam. Kawanishi was previously sitting next to you, but he opted to lay back with his hands folded behind his head. His roommate, Shirabu, was out (probably studying in the library with you know who.)

You sighed loudly and almost slammed the book shut. “You’re so cute when you’re angry, (F/N).” He commented.

“Flattery won’t help you pass abstract algebra, Kawanishi-kun.”

“I’ve told you to address me by my first name. And hopefully, it’ll get me a date with the most elusive girl on campus.” He slowly drew out.

“And I told you not to.” You sighed again, adding to the innumerable amount, “You were the only one who qualified for college prep classes in your second-year and you’re taking advantage of this by… failing advanced math.” You stated.

“Ouch.”

The pure fact that he shared the same third-year level math class was impressive. You sat in the very front and your attention never strayed from the professor’s lecture and had failed to notice the young-man before. But once you saw Taichi's work ethic up close, you knew he was nearly a lost cause. It was rare for him to study and you only wondered why. The teacher originally told you that Kawanishi had the capacity to be the best in class, only he was barred somehow.

Ugh.

You reiterated the question once more, “Prove that if a and b are nonzero integers for which a | b and b | a, then b = ± a.” You looked over and was not surprised to see that Kawanishi had the audacity to close his eyes! You dropped the book on the ground, startling the boy. “I’m leaving.”

“You have to give me time to think, babe.” You were halfway across the room when he sat-up to write some solution to the problem. Unsure if he was actually doing the question, you went back to look-over his shoulder.

Before you could read to the bottom of the page, he slowly turned his head towards you to say, "Since a | b, there is an integer m with b = ma. Since b | a, there is an integer k with a = kb. Substituting a = kb in the equation b = ma we get b = m(kb), so since b is nonzero we can cancel it to get 1 = mk. Since both m and k are integers, and |1| = |m| · |k|, we must have |m| = 1 and |k| = 1, so either b = a or b = - a.”

You looked back into the book to see that yes, Kawanishi’s answer was correct.

He was giving you his lazy stare, one that even you could not decipher. Kawanishi was waiting on you and you hesitated, completely dumbfounded, “Well… It seems you’re ready for the exam.” You gave a weak excuse and exited from his dorm. He did not fight it and seemed to lie back down as you left.

Kawanishi was an utter conundrum. This was not the first time that he amazed you with his intelligence. You brushed off these previous events as rare, but it seemed to not be the case as time went on. The teacher never indicated he was failing, you only assumed so by the many red-marked on his returned homework assignments. But homework was only a small percentage of the final grade, falling in importance by attendance. Outside of your tutoring sessions, you did not really know Kawanishi in his natural element.

You decided on watching the game between Shiratorizawa and Johzenji High. You spotted other people in the crowd, like the supportive girlfriend of Semi and not-girlfriend of Shirabu, but decided on straying from the rest and sitting elusively alone. Kawanishi was just switching into the game, standing right next to the net. After spending extended time with Tendou in and out of class, you knew the basics to volleyball and his role. It just so happened he shared it with Kawanishi.

He played an offensive and defensive role that competed with the tallest members of team. The tallest person was probably Wakatoshi, but he was middle blocker. After that, Kawanishi seemed to tower over the rest of them – Tendou included. The problem was that Tendou shun so brightly, with his unusual hair and outgoing personality. Everyone was aware of his skill and given nickname, the “Guess Monster.” You could almost call the two middle-blockers opposites. To any outsider, Kawanishi was giving a completely impassive appearance to the enemies on the court. But you knew he was thinking and that the little hamster in his brain was working tenfold. He was capable of blocking the spikes of a certain loudmouthed Johzenji player, who made it necessary to yell at random moments. Kawanishi made it appear as if he was putting little to no effort – probably to keep his cool-looking exterior – but you knew better.

Maybe you judged Kawanishi too quickly?

Shiratorizawa closed both sets in their favor and you made your way down to the court before the crowd could block your way.

“Could I get a picture of the victors to send to the Shiratorizawa page?”

Tendou was eager to nod in agreement before grabbing an underclassmen you recognized as Goshiki Tsutomu and an expressionless Ushijima Wakatoshi. Kawanishi spotted you and looked away, deadpan appearance still displayed on his face.

What the hell was that?

During your private tutoring session, Kawanishi was a man filled with unending charisma and charm. And in this instance, not a full day later, he was ignoring you entirely. Who could possibly explain the paradox that is Kawanishi?

“Why do you want to know so badly, huh?” Tendou supplied your question with not an answer, but another question. You shared an English class with the guess monster and decided that during break, you would ask more about the young middle-blocker.

“You know I tutor him… And I fear that I might have judged him too quickly.”

“He’s an ass.”

“Well, I know that.”

“He doesn’t talk to his teammates much.” He candidly stated, “Kawanishi is very similar to his roommate.”

“Shirabu?” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, they’re both quiet little shits. They like to sit and observe others around them, only speaking if they were called out. Taichi is quieter than Kenjiro though, the latter is hella salty and has no problems sassing his older ones!”

“Huh.” This description seemed like the opposite one that you were used to. Kawanishi had no problems calling you nicknames and there was never a quiet between the two of you. It seemed like he even took amusement in constantly teasing you.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all what I expected, that’s all.” You confessed, “He seems pretty lazy.”

“Oh he is!” Tendou interjected, “Don’t get me wrong, Taichi has let a ball hit the ground perfectly in! But he’s smarter than he gives off. We play the same position, but his blocking methods are more experiential. Taichi sticks to read blocking, but when he’s in the zone he guess-blocks like me. And if all else fails, he’ll go for the option he knows he can block.”

“That’s… clever.” You were hesitating in your words and Tendou noticed it, evident from the narrowing of his wide eyes, but he did not comment on it outwardly.

Instead, he replied with, “But it’s obviously not as impressive as my method!”

You laughed lightly and complimented, “Seems like no one can compete with the attention of the guess monster.”

At this point, the teacher entered the room and continued with class. Your thoughts often surrounded the elusive man and you wondered if Kawanishi really did act differently around you than the others, but you were running out of options to ask from. If Tendou’s description was accurate, then there was no way that Wakatoshi could give you more valuable information. Shirabu was Kawanishi’s roommate and closest companion, he must know more than the rest. But surely, he would convey to the middle-blocker your interest and you could not handle Taichi finding out.

You went to the second best.

“How’s my favorite kouhai?” You attempted to coerce the popular second-year into conversation, but she gave you the face that knew what you were up to. It was a widely known fact that she was Shirabu’s best friend, member of a second-year study group that included him, and gossip queen – she had to know something.

“If you need something just say it, (L/N)-san. Better make it quick, I have class soon and I can’t be rude to the only senpai that I like.” You caught her in the hallway, typing away on her phone.

You sighed, “What can you say about Kawanishi?”

“Taichi?” She put her phone back in her bag to look down at nothing in particular, whilst frowning. “He’s a lazy piece of shit who knows better than to act like how he is now. You’re tutoring him, so you’ve probably seen it.”

“Yeah…”

“He’s pretty quiet, but not at all shy. Taichi has a personality that’s rough around the edges and it seems like he has a permanent bitch face on. But he opens up to those he can trust.”

“Oh.”

At that reaction, your kouhai quickly stepped in front of you and stopped walking, blocking your immediate pace. “What do you mean, ‘Oh?’ Do you like him?”

“No, it’s just he’s been acting a certain way around me. I was wondering how much of him I really knew.”

“Like how?”

“Like teasing me, calling me ‘babe’ of all things.” Her eyes widened at the newfound gossip and you could almost feel the internal screaming she was projecting. You were unsure if you should walk-away at the stunned girl or shout to grab her attention.

“How cute.” She simply stated, composing herself in a single second and then was on her way.

That conversation did not help your nerves at all and your next class was shared with the aggravation of your thoughts! You approached life like a simple equation. There were variables here and there, but eventually all would be solved and revealed. Math was your shit and yet Kawanishi defied every prior algorithm of judgement you had unofficially convened in your mind.

Since you were relatively early to class, you took the empty seat next to Kawanishi – which was the very last seat in the back! He strolled in with headphones buried in his ears, showing not a single care. His dark eyes narrowed at your presence, but this time he actually acknowledged you with a casual wave.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He did not dignify you with a response, just a sly lift of his eyebrow that you knew suggested something! But you simply rolled your eyes, happy to see your usual Kawanishi and continued, “For studying. Don’t get anything in that head of yours.”

Woah, take a step back.

Your Kawanishi? Since when did you think of Kawanishi as yours? That thought slipped your mind quickly and almost naturally. That fact alone scared you. The two of you had spent numerous nights studying alone and it was clear that he thought of you as a friend, as per his insistence of using his first name. It seems his determination and utter repetition were finally getting to you. And you were surprisingly okay with that.

This was your hardest class and there were exams every week. The professor handed the last test back and you almost cried at seeing your eighty-nine out of one-hundred! Thank the lord! Amongst the few that took the torture known as abstract algebra, the topic for the last exam was agreeably the hardest and you would not be surprised if you were the curve.

Once the professor returned to his desk, he announced, “Sorry class, there is no curve on the exam grade this week.”

What the fuck?! You had never dropped below a ninety math and it was rare for anyone to be ahead of you. There were a few times that the curve was slightly above you by a point or two, but never a full letter grade.

You looked over to Kawanishi and saw the perfect score that he was failing to hide. His expression was a grim line and you reached over to take the paper off his desk. He did not fight you and allowed you to compare answers.

His work was perfect, his penmanship was sloppy, but the answers were completely legible and circled at the bottom. You even remembered him leaving the classroom earlier than you during the exam. At the time, you figured he was going to take a nap – which he did – and not be bothered by the importance of the exam. But boi, you were wrong.

You felt like an ass.

“Looks like you’ll be tutoring me from now, Taichi-san.” You teased. Kawanishi froze at your sudden playful-tone, one he had perceived before, but never seen used against him. He urged you several times before to use his first name and, of all times, you decided now in the middle of class.

Taichi had observed you through junior high and now. You were smart and made it widely known that you and you alone were the leader. You would inwardly groan at teacher’s directions, but do it anyway because that was simply how you were. He grew in the contrary direction and wanted to know why you were so damn happy leading a bunch of idiots.

The student body was easily swayed and not worth his time to keep a reputation. It was easier to keep an impassive disposition than appeal to those he simply did not care about. And yet, you were just as smart as him and you wanted the favor of those beneath you. Kawanishi wanted to know why you subjected yourself to this arduous task through the years. What could be so good about volunteering time into people who widely did not deserve it?

Kawanishi was willing to let all six-years go to waste. Spend his time merely watching you and never actually saying anything. He could easily grab your attention, but what was the point? Your heart belonged to the student body and you would never dedicate time to just him, another student in a sea of others.

Until his matchmaker of a math teacher forced you to.

Kawanishi silently thanked whatever deity was watching over him. He wanted to push your buttons, see how far he could go before the kitten would show her claws. You were put alongside the rare amount of people he could truly express himself with. And damn, you were pretty entertaining. He loved seeing the determined glint in your eyes after he paid even the slightest bit of attention to your tutoring. Or the way you rolled your eyes in amusement after he gave a rather presumptuous statement.

You were a mature intelligent young-woman, a year his senior, with an honest-heart and an ass to boot.

When you were riled enough, you fought his teasing with your own harsh words. Taichi could literally watch your usually composed demeanor collapse at his words. Your usually kind vernacular would get replaced with punitive and ruthless sayings towards him and it strangely invigorated him to see more. You would heave a sigh and force deep breathes to calm yourself and he loved seeing the dramatic rise and fall of your chest.

Taichi long-accepted his interest in you and was not at all shy at expressing this. But you were just??? So dense??

But now that you were finally teasing back… Kawanishi fought down the strange heat rising to his cheeks and attempted his most casual tone of voice, “You can drop the formal suffix, (F/N).” Damn, that was too low! I sounded like a male pornstar.

You laughed, he was could not pinpoint the exact reason since you were smiling so radiantly at him, “Alright, Taichi-kun.”

He sighed at your teasing and refused to respond to your mischievous statement.

Oh boy had the tables turned.

Neither of you could pay full attention in class since any movement from the other person would catch your immediate notice. The two of you did not have to voice it out loud, but it was obvious that you were both on edge, eager to say something but never actually saying it.

The professor decided on letting the class out early and you grabbed his hand, “Hey. Want to have dinner first before we study?”

Kawanishi mulled over your request, frown slowly tilting to a smile when the classroom emptied. “Can’t get enough time with me?”

“Yeah, whatever.” You joked, grabbing your stuff and walking alongside the male. He was keeping an unusually large distance, but at this point you could almost understand the puzzle that was Taichi.

You were a contender for a spot in the top ranked students in the Academy and it was for obvious reasons. And after observing Taichi throughout the week, his personality seemed clearly defined to you. He was not shy or held-back, but honest. Quiet, since he found no reason to speak to those beneath him. Taichi did not radiate the same intelligence as others, but you could still sense his pride and hidden tenacity.

However, you could not explain why his frank behavior was pointed towards you. You were never a member of the volleyball team and yet he treated you like one of his close friends. Kawanishi was a year your junior and you were the president, so maybe he found the need to place formal respect? But he never exhibited the same regard for other seniors or delegates to student government. You glanced back to the hazel-haired male. He was walking at a leisurely pace, his permanent little scowl displayed to the rest of the world.

You swiped into the cafeteria, grabbed some food, and sat in a booth across Taichi. Conversation was mostly comprised of you talking with his occasional comment. This was definitely new behavior, but maybe not at all. This must be his normal disposition and you were entirely okay with that.

It made you feel special, that he talked differently to you in private.

But the small privacy of the booth did not last long. “Hey, (F/N)-san!” You spotted Semi’s girlfriend, arm-in-arm with her setter. “I just had a quick question about prom.”

You were whisked away with multiple questions of what not to wear and the theme. She ended up taking a seat next to you. You were not at all troubled, it was only part of your duties as student government and you were delighted to share details about the most massive event of the year. Semi scooted into the booth next to Kawanishi. Both boys watched the conversation in silence, giving only a polite greeting to one another.

After giving many thanks, the couple took off with a wave. You and Taichi continued in your dinner and you off-handedly asked, “How do you feel about losing so many senpai’s?”

He frowned and sat-back, “They’re moving onto better things. I trust Shirabu.” You nodded at his explanation and the rest of dinner went by casually. His words were concise and you found his current curt vernacular very similar to Wakatoshi.

The moment the two of you were completely alone, in the comfort of his shared dormed room, Kawanishi did not hesitate to slam the door behind him and flash you a flirtatious smile. “What’s up with you lately, babe?” He walked over to his bed, throwing his backpack on the top. You realized it was not as heavy as yours and spotted his textbooks scattered haphazardly on the floor. You did not comment on it, not this time.

“Why?” You had a raised brow, but wide smile on your face.

“Why do you keep smiling at me, (F/N)?” He questioned, sitting on the edge and leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees.

“Why do you treat me like this, Taichi-kun?” You asked, “I’m not complaining, but I seem to be on a special list in your mind. I just want to know what I did to earn it.”

His gaze shun with understanding and amusement, traveling for you to a spot on the floor, “Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Back to the teasing! “Well, you’re definitely smarter than I first thought. So I am sorry I misjudged you for a lazy idiot. You’re just lazy genius, it seems.”

His bit his bottom lip and kept a firm gaze back on you. It was rare to see such an intense stare coming from the boy and you fidgeted in your spot, standing in the middle of the room. “A compliment just to knock me down?” There was no hint of a smile despite his amusing tone, and he continued, “Should I punish you?”

Your smile was wiped clean off your face and you looked at him with wide eyes. There were no words you could respond with to make sense of the conversation, so you simply stated, “Do you think you could handle me?”

Oh my god, why do this sound like the beginning of a porn?! You shrieked in your mind, confidence outwardly radiating but on the inside you were literally screaming.

He gave a light chuckle, smirking away at how easy you were to read. Taichi stood up, leisurely walking in your direction and not showing signs of stopping, “It’s easy to get a kitten purring.” And he continued strolling right past you to his desk. “But first I have to tutor you. Now be a good student and sit-down.”

At this point, you were inwardly heaving at the obvious tension and the fact that his smirk looked so hot. You were always the one who brought the study session back to its true purpose when the two of you deviated. And yet here Kawanishi was, getting you all riled-up just to walk-away from his obviously effective work.

This is bullshit!

You were a whole year older than him and the most powerful student at Shiratorizawa – there was no way this tall-ass sloth was going to one-up you! Taichi, you learned overtime, loved to be in control of a situation. He observed other people from afar and would act according to what he wanted as the outcome. And you refused to be another marionette in his game.

You grabbed his shoulder, whipping him around to sit back down on the bed. Taichi leaned back, eyes wide with surprise. You propped your knees onto the edge, initiating a very intimate very dominate position, and pushed the subject, “I think it’s time you learned your place. You can endlessly tease me when I’m trying to help, but I can’t? You better answer my question here and now.”

“It’s because I have feelings for you.” His eye-contact did not waiver, so Tachi easily perceived your astonished-look despite how well you thought you were hiding it.

You opened your mouth, words not coming out, and slowly leaned closer to the man. At this point, any outsider could observe your pose as straddling his waist. But! This was simply not his way. With you still in a daze, Taichi had no problems switching the positions with him now looming over you.

He grabbed a hand in each of his, placing them above your head in his grasp. “Sorry sweetheart.” Taichi murmured above you, noses gently bumping each other. You leaned upward and closed the distance, lips molding against each other. He tasted of mangos, a fruit you would not have expected of the quiet boy.

You felt the sweep of his lips against yours and opened at the invitation. Taichi previously had a knee on the bed, but now he was fully inclined on top of you, hips to hips and to nose to nose. He moved his left-hand from your shoulder to grasp the back of your head tenderly. He was invading all your senses and it seemed his only goal was to deepen your already intimate contact. Your left hand found itself on his shoulder, gripping tightly as the other hand threaded between his auburn-hair.

You moaned at a particular sensation and Kawanishi leaned back to get a full-look at your flushed face, “Well? I like you too. Keep kissing me, you idiot.” You spurned him on, earning a smile as he pushed you further up his bed to a more comfortable position.

He continued in his dominant pose, not hesitating to place himself over you. The heavy-air was incredibly evident and you knew your eyes were hazed over with lust. You traveled a curious hand from his hip to the bare-skin of his stomach and you swear he basically growled. He was sporting that intense gaze again and you only wondered how you were not aware of his feelings before. Taking away by your thoughts, Taichi returned your favor by placing a warm-hand on your waist and roaming upwards underneath the comfort of your shirt. But he was not stopping.

His hand stopped at the crest of your breast when –

“Oh my god!”

“Leave a sock on the door or something, holy shit.”

You broke apart to see Shirabu and his not-girlfriend in the doorway. She had her hands covering her face, but not her eyes. His poor roommate looked entirely done and not at all surprised. The two of you quickly sat-up, but Kawanishi secured a firm hold on your waist. Shirabu and his study partner did not leave the room, but in fact walked-in further.

Your kouhai was quick to compose herself and started, “Wow, (F/N). You work fast! And you said you didn’t like him, no wonder you were gushing all—”

“Are you leaving?!” You interrupted.

“This is my room.” Shirabu stated, sighing. “But we’re just stopping here to grab books and then to the library to study.” Kawanishi was dead-silent, lips a straight-line, but the hand on you was drawing lazy circles on your skin.

“Don’t hesitate to text me if you need anything, (L/N)-san! Some snacks? A condom?” Shirabu flicked the girl on the forehead before grabbing her and almost dragging her from the room. "You were gushing over me?" Taichi asked, stating the question dangerously close to your ear. "I'm going to kill her." He laughed and extended another hand, both of his arms resting across your waist as nibbled lightly on the shell of your ear. "Now, don't be mean because she was honest." Kawanishi whispered, a tingle traveling up and down your spine and causing you to arch forward into his touch.

“That was hella embarrassing.”

He pulled back, “It’s embarrassing to be with me?”

“No!” You were quick to answer and grab his arm, pulling him back, “Not at all. I just don’t want an audience when I’m being intimate with the guy I like... What if they walked in a little later?”

He raised a brow at your question, smirk splayed on his face yet again and returning to his close-position by your ear, "What do you think we’d be doing?”

“I don’t know!” You covered your face with your hands, corrupt thoughts popping up and you were almost sure Kawanishi could see your thought bubble. He laughed and placed the hands away, returning back to lean his forehead against your's.

“You’re cute.” And he enveloped you back into another kiss.

You were not the sort of couple that would hold-hands in the hallway and Taichi would rarely ever kiss you out in public. But you would not have it any other way. His affectionate side was for you alone and he made sure to affirm his affections the moment you were behind closed doors. You noticed the little things, lingering looks or a smile thrown your way. In the comfort of your privacy, Taichi would not hesitate to have roam his hands on your skin.

Taichi Kawanishi was one-of-a-kind and you thanked whoever was out there for blessing you with such a charming boy. He was still an ass, no doubt, but he was your ass.

You loved him fully and he would not hesitate to do the same.

[meltangospelhour]

Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 1

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Implied Sexual stuff/it's smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Blanche

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokémon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokémon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies.

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.”

...Ahem.

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokémon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss.

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. Are you really a scientist, I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokémon studies.

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly earned that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work.

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me.

With her, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not.

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change.

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?”

“And why do you think this?” I sharply quipped.

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?”

I found myself paralyzed; she was right. My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work.

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it?

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared.

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokémon's massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was Lugia’s Song in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her.

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokémon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly.

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her.

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon.

That resonated true, especially now.

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened.

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself.

❄❄❄

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past.

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best.

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokémon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand--

--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern.

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right.

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokémon battles to have matching Pokémon, or Pokémon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture.

A cute gesture between old friends…

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less…

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo is presumably Kantonian, or perhaps Johtonian; Candela is--

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--?

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.)

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated.

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together.

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking.

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?”

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.”

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him.

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my façade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated.

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark.

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother Beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me.

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?”

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel.

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew.

...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more.

I have had days where I absolutely abhorred Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough.

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens...

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder;

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look;

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner.

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips.

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it.

But this? This was acceptable.

Desirable.

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak.

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands.

I felt safe to do so.

Then, from within a dream, something clicked.

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory.

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been.

Why are the notes on him so vague?

Why so much hatred just because of Candela?

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokémon battle?

Or stealing your potential title?

Am I missing something?

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokémon because you lost against her!

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you?

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it.

Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche.

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.)

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more...

[He is sly and manipulative.]

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier?

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he.

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip--

“Wait.”

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This might be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will make [C] explain to me [A].

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset radiated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way.

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about.

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo.

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.)

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing.

...That was the point; wasn’t it?

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?���

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside.

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything? I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me but her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public.

She said nothing.

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was supposed to be.

She was already gone.

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline.

I took a step forward to call out to her, to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave.

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber.

No, a theatre.

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today.

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

[taerseok]

↬ pairing:. badboy!Jungkook × childhoodfriend!Reader

↬ synopsis:. ❝ Nevermind, I’ll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you too. Don’t forget me, I beg. I remember you said; ‘sometimes it lasts in love. But sometimes it hurts instead.’ ❞

Or, alternatively:

↬ synopsis:. ❝ you and a handsome prince from a neighbouring kingdom team up to spin the worst fairytale the lands have ever laid their eyes upon. ❞

↬ word count:. 15.5k

↬ genre(s):. modern royalty!au, fake dating/fake marriage!au, childhood friends!au, angst, fluff, attempted humour

↬ rating:. pg-15

↬ warning(s):. cheating, suicide, language, alcohol, comatose, mental illness, disturbing scenes, rebounds, e.t.c.

↬ playlist:. play here!

▪ note:. this is a part of the royalty!au collab with my good friend, Addison @aesthetical-witch and I was very inspired by Tae’s cover of someone like you to make this!

CREDITS:

• Thank you soo much to Maggie @kimtaehyunq (requested from the BHQ Request Board) for the wonderful header!

• Thank you to my good friends Ruby @rubinora and Addi @aesthetical-witch for helping me edit and providing me with feedback!

Putting your phone next to you, you sigh and turn to lay on your stomach, your cheek against the soft mattress below you. You had just seen an exhausting text message from someone you did not want to meet right now. You’d be lying if you said Jungkook didn’t still get on your nerves for something stupid he did the last time you had a ‘get-together’. The boy, who you were friends with since you both came from a royal background and your kingdoms were basically next to each other, had drunk your last carton of banana milk. 

Naturally, you both had taken a liking to the same drink, and as of currently, most of your ‘wars’ were a result of taking each other’s things and of course, drinking each other’s banana milk. Yes, it is quite idiotic to lose your shit over someone else drinking your milk, but you had every right to be mad at him and more. 

 In the text that he had sent you just a few minutes ago, he asked if you could meet him in your castle’s garden in a few minutes. You were feeling lazy as always, sitting in your bed, doing nothing, but you could not help but snicker that the guy had the audacity to ask you that when he took your banana milk. In fact, you believe he should be treating you, not asking you for any more favours than he already has. What would poor Jungkook do without you, you shake your head.  

Getting up, you take off towards the gardens of your castle. Oh, and it wasn’t much of a castle in your opinion. It did lack some of the things a normal castle would have, like large towers. But you did consider it a mansion. Most called it a castle though, mostly because royal matters were handled here. Or so you thought, anyway, you shrug. You didn’t waste your time and as soon as you got out of your room, you rush down the halls, down the stairs, and through the large doors. 

“Now where is he?” you frown. The garden was larger than one could imagine. In front of the gate to the inside of the ‘castle,’ your mother had decided to have a fountain built, and to the right and left, green, lush grass spread over quite a large chunk of land. You opted to go for the more secretive places. The boy must have driven off without his parents’ knowledge and decided to come here, and as far as you knew, if anyone would have seen him, you would have been informed. 

You looked around, running in the gardens and squinting your eyes at every shadow you saw, then sighing because none of them belonged to Jungkook — they were mostly trees, occasionally some maid working here or there. But you did find the male soon enough. He was hiding at a corner of the garden where bushes surrounded almost every point. If you didn’t know Jungkook good enough, you would have guessed he was smart. 

You run up to him, making sure no one saw you since that would likely be bad news. Whatever it had to be, Jungkook didn’t call you here for something good because it wouldn’t have to be this secretive. “Right,” you catch your breath, panting. “You better tell me something worth it because I feel like I just ran a marathon.” Running around your garden wasn’t easy, in your opinion. It took great will, certainly. “So I was right when I said that you’re just a pillow princess.“ 

You glare at Jungkook, brows furrowed. You had a bad history with him, you won’t lie. Yeah, he appeared to be quite handsome and even charming. Many girls would swoon over his gorgeous hair, his pretty face and his adorable dimples, and you wouldn’t even be surprised if he was ripped as hell. Being royalty and crown prince was just an added bonus, to be honest. But he was a brat with one big ego, and you knew that fact like the back of your hand. 

The way he teased you made blood simmer in your veins. It made you go crazy. You felt beyond helpless when that happened. And you reminded yourself over and over again not to compliment him or his ego would only inflate more. And you considered that wasn’t healthy for him, even though he really did look good. 

“Shut up and tell me what you want.” Maybe it was the fact that he spoke something really true and maybe you were a pillow princess so you wouldn’t even deny it, but it still offended you nonetheless. The nickname had been given to you when he had came over once and your mother had mentioned how you never leave your bed. Your mother really knew how to throw you under the bus, didn’t she? He chuckles, then begins to speak. “I have a request for you,” he says. You stop him right there, raising your hand in the air, gesturing him to kindly shut up. You were so done. “For fuck’s sake, Jeon Jungkook. I am not about to go through hell again just for you. Don’t you think you should act a little more independent, maybe? Maybe treat me to dinner first? I am not a 24/7 helper,” you frown, crossing your arms. 

“Who taught you to curse?” oh. You might have gotten a little too angry. But who could’ve blamed you? Jungkook wasn’t your responsibility. You didn’t have to help him and you wouldn’t this time. You just had to make it clear and may have gone a little too far. You had tried to stop yourself from cursing in front of him so you’d keep your status, but of course, that didn’t mean that you didn’t actually curse. 

“I am an independent adult. I can curse. Meanwhile…” you sigh, “you aren’t. You constantly need help from me. You’re crown prince, Jungkook! You’re supposed to be a little more mature than this.” He didn’t take any time to retort back. “Look who’s speaking. You’re not mature at all,” he says, and though his voice reflected anger, his expression remained calm. 

“We’re not talking of me here! You’re the one who came here with a request!” you exclaim, turning your back to Jungkook. You had enough of helping Jungkook over and over, you were so tired of picking the pieces of his life back up and putting it together. He had to understand that you had a life too. You had your own problems to take care of. Any time he messed up, he’d have to come to you for help. 

Like that one time, when he and some of his friends got drunk and you had to help them clean up even though none of it was your fault. And that one time when he had driven a little too fast when you were over at his ‘castle’ and then he crashed into that one shop in town. And to top off the humiliation, since he was too much of a pretty boy to own up to his mistake, you had to hold a conference to explain the situation to the media and paparazzi. Of all the people, you. 

It was getting ridiculous at this point and your head wouldn’t wrap around it. You knew he was irresponsible and maybe even careless, but still! He was going to become the next king and the kingdom depended on him. The future of his subjects depended on him. How could he risk being so careless? 

“I’m leaving if you have nothing better to say,” you sigh and take a step to leave, but he catches your wrist, pulling you back. You groan. “Jungkook, I’m a person with my own problems. I can’t always be helping you,” you turn around to look in his eyes. You could see stars in them if you gazed deeper. 

“I get it. But I trust you enough to let you know that mother is planning an arranged marriage for me,” your brows furrow at his statement. “What… do you—?”

“But I’m dating someone already.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You take a moment to let yourself digest the new information. He was dating someone? 

Okay, you two were close but never tried to get into each other’s love lives, and in addition, the man in front of you didn’t look innocent whatsoever, so he must’ve at least dated someone. But for him to tell you like this, it hurt a little.

It reminds you of how you were growing up and leaving your childhoods behind. You two had known each other for quite a long time and gotten so comfortable with one another. But to think that someday, you’ll be standing beside a man and him beside some woman of his liking, and the fact that, that one day was coming very soon — it hurt. It hurt to lose your friend over some stupid thing like marriage. 

“But she’s a commoner. You know mother is strict about that stuff and…” he bit his pink lip, “I need you to buy me some time.” You raise a brow, and his hand finds yours. He looks at you, his eyes searching for confirmation. “You need me to buy you time? How?” you frown, your feelings conflicted. You wanted to help, this was some dire situation and if he got married to someone he didn’t love, then… it wasn’t worth it. 

At the same time, this proved to be very hard. His mother, though a fun one similar to yours, was stern when it came to relationships. Her trust was especially hard to earn. But she did grow affectionate towards you since you had been with Jungkook since you were little. 

“I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and slow things down a bit.“ 

You look at the man in disbelief, motionless. Did you hear correct? Yes, maybe your mother teased you about being married to Jungkook for some while now, and maybe it did sound reasonable, but why of all people, did he want you? Multiple girls were dying to be his girlfriend already, should he not give them a chance? 

“But why me?” you finally ask, looking at him with mixed feelings. “You’re the only princess my family knows and trusts. It wouldn’t be weird if I was dating you at all.” You roll your eyes at the last statement. “Jungkook, it would be weird if I was dating you,” you correct him. “Well, to you, yeah, but I don’t consider it impossible,” he grins. You pull your hand away from his, punching his arm. 

“You’re dating someone already, you idiot!” you exclaim, frowning. He chuckles. “I’m not cheating on her. I already told her, and she’s not on the best terms with it, but she agrees,” he says. “So you can date me.” You huff at his arrogance, crossing your arms. “You know this is trouble, right?” you furrow your brows. “Yeah, and I’m up for it. So are you up for it?” you roll your eyes at his reply. 

 "I think you just want a chance at fucking me if I’m to be completely honest with you.“ 

“I like your honest side.“ 

“You’re in a relationship!“ 

“With you, yeah.“ 

“Oh my God…” you sigh. You wondered who would date such an idiot. Then again, he is really handsome. Maybe you should be grateful for the opportunity. 

——— 

You didn’t know when you agreed for it, but you just did and now you are dating Jeon Jungkook. You decided to tell your family about it that night at dinner, after discussing the details with Jungkook. Hyun-ae, who is his girlfriend as of currently, was a commoner he had met at an expensive club he had gone to.

She had garnered his interest and the two began dating in secret. They have been now dating for two years, though in private. Neither of them have shown any sign of getting the relationship to a different level, and they both need some time to relax and think of ways to finally bring the truth into the light without any prejudice taking place. 

That is where you come in. You will pretend to be Jungkook’s girlfriend so his mother can stop finding suitors and give him some air to breathe, simultaneously giving him time to think of a plan. You will need to slow down the process as much as you can, making excuses to make sure that the wedding day does not approach. Because in the end, it’s not you who is going to get married to Jungkook. It’s Hyun-ae.

Or that’s what he told you about the plan. 

It was wrong on many levels, and if you weren’t as dear to your families as you were, you both would receive great punishment for it — maybe even death. But it wasn’t going to go that far. It would be done in a few months at most. Or that’s what you told yourself, anyway. 

Taking a seat at the dinner table, you smiled at your mother and father, and then looked towards your cheeky older brother, Seokjin. You liked to call him Jin for short. He is likely going to go ecstatic over the fact that you were dating someone and you didn’t tell him, and going to go absolutely feral when he hears that it is actually Jungkook who you are “dating”. He was quite the overprotective brother. You turn to your father, taking a deep breath, you begin to speak. 

“I wanted to… talk about something important to me,” you try sounding like you are authentic, and you seem to be failing badly, but you keep on going, mustering up all the strength. You forget even eating your food for a while, instead, turning to look at your three family members one by one. 

 "I am dating someone… with whom I want to take my relationship to the next level.“ You were inexperienced and stupid for doing all of this. Multiple times you thought of backing out, but this was for Jungkook. You felt bad seeing how far you were going for him but he never even returned it. Or sometimes he did. But this was a big favor you were being asked. Your mother and father look at you with wide eyes, though Jin continues to eat, making sure to look up at you once in a while — making sure you know he’s listening too. 

“I’m very sorry I didn’t mention him before,” you look at all of them one by one, “but I am in a serious relationship,” it hurt to lie to everyone like this. What fool would fall for your dramatic acting? Who knew… but you certainly had all of their attention now. 

“Who is it…?” your mother asks very quietly, at least they weren’t objecting to it. You sigh heavily. 

“Jungkook.“ 

Their expressions were something you couldn’t analyse. They were thoroughly surprised, yes, and at the same time, another emotion you couldn’t quite grasp — approval? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but maybe that was it. Jin stops eating to look at you instead. 

”Jeon Jungkook? That one Jungkook you’re friends with?” you feel bad for playing like this, but what was done was done and you were doing this for Jungkook. “Which other Jungkook would I know?” you don’t know how exactly to react so you smile lightly at Jin, then look back towards your parents, who are still staring at you. “So… Jungkook recently told me that his mother is picking a girl for him…” you bite your bottom lip, “but she doesn’t know about us and—” you begin to speak, but your mother cuts you off. 

“I’ll talk with her.” And what you don’t expect is the smile that’s on her face. Did you really just fool them like that? They believed you so easily. Was it this easy to lie? It left you with chills. 

“In fact, you and your mother can leave for their kingdom in the morning. Make sure to tell Jungkook about it,” your father spoke up. Everything seemed to be going to plan. Jungkook did say he wanted you to visit the castle and that he’d tell his parents all of this too. So you supposed your job was done. But to think that you were fake-marrying your childhood friend, it all felt so wrong. 

“I will…” you respond quietly and continue to eat dinner as nothing had transpired. You felt so bad for doing all of this. Seeing the smiles on your parents’ faces, the laughter of Jin — they didn’t think it was weird at all for you to marry Jungkook. So he was right. Maybe people could see you and Jungkook together. Childhood sweethearts, mayhaps? You still didn’t know how. 

As soon as you finish dinner, you turn to leave to your room and tell Jungkook about everything. 

[Y/N]: I told everyone. We’re coming tomorrow. 

Your kingdoms were right next to each other. It was very easy to reach to his by car. Yes, it would take some hours but you considered travel fun. And you’d probably fall asleep in the car anyway. You thought about packing your things and decided to do that while you waited for Jungkook’s message. 

 You were done pretty quickly, you didn’t need to pack much. Some clothes here and there, and some other things you thought you’d need. You didn’t know how long you were staying there for, but if anything was needed, you know they could provide it for you at his place. You sank down on the bed and picked up your phone, which lit up while you were closing your bag. He was calling you. 

“What is it now?” you ask, a little annoyed as you put the phone to your ears. “Are you mad because you have to actually work now, pillow princess?” you could practically hear him grinning. It wasn’t very nice. “Be grateful. I’m helping you. No one could do this,” you roll your eyes. He chuckles lightly, changing the topic. “How did your parents believe it though? You’re such a bad actor,” he queried. “Well, I’m not as bad as you think. Somehow. I did make them believe it.“ 

“Jungkook, you know this is trouble. What if they find out…? What if we get into trouble?” you frown, but he doesn’t seem to think of it in that way. You aren’t surprised. “It’s fine! Lighten up, pillow princess.” You huff, feeling anxious about the situation. Your mother and father — even Jin. They would all be so disappointed in you. You helped Jungkook marry a commoner. 

“That’s because you get something good from this if it works out! You get to be with the love of your life while I get scarred forever,” you say hotly before your voice turns meek. You won’t be able to sleep tonight, thinking of all of this and freaking out over it. And Jungkook knows that fact too, knowing you well enough to pick up on it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that.” Of course, he didn’t. 

“Because you’re a self-obsessed bloke,” you reply dryly. He snickers a little, making you smile ever so lightly. “I guess I am. We’re in this together, Y/N. I never want you to be alone.” It was moments like these when you questioned why Jungkook made your heart skip a beat. Or why he even said things like these. Maybe he knew his words mattered a little more to you than you let on. Or perhaps he simply wanted to pull at your heart. 

“Yeah, right,” you say quietly, “tell that to me when you get married to Hyun-ae and I still don’t get a boyfriend,” you smile despite your words, wanting to relive these moments when you grew older. 

Time just passed so quickly. You never noticed when you became a teen, and then an adult, and now you’re supposed to get married soon — well, not really. You’re just faking it. But still, the actual day isn’t that far either. You’ll find someone soon enough. Or so you hoped. 

“Anyway… I better get my beauty sleep now,” you hear him laugh into the phone. “What’s so funny with that?” you frown. “It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night.” You smile. 

“Okay… Goodnight.“ 

“Yeah, goodnight.“ 

“Mhm, goodnight.“ 

“Goodnight.“ 

"God, just hang up already!” you exclaim, making him shout even louder. “You hang up!” that one hurt your ears badly. You groan. “Fine!” giving up, you end the call. Jungkook was the most annoying human being you had come across, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for your friendship. 

He was just a tease and a knuckle-head sometimes. Though you appreciated him for exactly that — being stupid. After getting ready for bed, you try to calm down your nerves and prepare yourself mentally for pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. 

It didn’t feel right to pretend like this, but you couldn’t do much than just following Jungkook and praying that everything will go well to a God you didn’t believe in. 

Closing your eyes, you began wishing for a better tomorrow.

———

You didn’t even notice how you got into the car next day to drive away to Jungkook’s, but you simply guessed you did, and the next thing you knew was that you were approaching the borders of the ruled land. It was beautiful, just as thriving and prosperous as the last time you had seen it. 

From the window of the limousine, you could see the merchants and traders, the millions of shops that lined the roads. Even the townspeople were friendly, you had known since they were always very sincere and understanding of Jungkook’s mistakes. 

The residential area was your favourite. You loved seeing their green gardens even though they were very small in comparison to the one you knew. The colourful roofs of the houses always brought a smile on your face. The rule was well-established under Jungkook’s parents, and you just hoped he could continue it. You had high hopes for him. 

The car steadily made its way to the castle, prior to stopping a little way before it. You got out of the car alongside your mother, slightly nervous. You had almost forgotten what you were here for. Some guards made sure of your identities before they escorted you to the door and took your luggage inside, while Jungkook, his younger brother, Junghyun and his parents were standing in the foyer. 

Your father hadn’t come, for he had some important businesses to take care of. You didn’t think ruling was easy, so he was justified. Jin stayed behind too, accompanying your father like the crown prince he is and learning the art of kingship. 

Meanwhile, you were agreeing to be fake-married to your childhood friend. You sigh, then help yourself to a plastered smile as you approach the family. You and your mother curtsy and you let your mother do the talking. You weren’t here to embarrass yourself, that’s for sure. You look towards Junghyun and Jungkook, who are both looking towards you. You give them a light smile, but your eyes just seem to be moving back to Jungkook. You do hope what you’re doing is right. 

“Ah, Y/N, why don’t you and the boys talk for a bit while we do too?” Jungkook’s mother addresses, making you nod furiously. You are guided inside by the two brothers while your mother and their parents walk towards the living room. It dawns over you that you’re supposed to act like a couple since Junghyun is here and even he doesn’t know of the truth, so your hand just finds Jungkook’s. 

Holding your hand, Jungkook leads you towards his bedroom gently. Junghyun follows alongside you, apparently just as fooled as his parents, talking of all the memories you three had made. He wasn’t wrong; certainly, you had spent your childhood with Jungkook and Junghyun. Junghyun wasn’t much younger than Jungkook, but a difference of some years still remained, though most went unnoticed, seeing as Jungkook was just so unexplainably youthful. 

“Or that one time when Jungkook stole your chocolate and you started crying?” Junghyun chuckles, but you need not be reminded of the moments you had cried. All for some chocolate and all because of a bratty Jeon Jungkook. You roll your eyes. 

“Please~! I don’t want to remember that. I cried for this jerk—” you catch yourself just in time before you say something else. Junghyun looks at you, a bit startled. But before you say something to justify yourself, he simply laughs again. 

“It’s good to see that you haven’t lost your fun relationship with him. You’ve just made it stronger.” You nod wearily at his words, smiling while your heart wrenches at seeing the world be fooled. “Tell me, how did you fall in love with my dimwit of a brother? He really is lucky to have you—" 

"That’s enough, isn’t it, Junghyun?” for the first time in a while, Jungkook spoke up in the conversation. “But I do want to know!” Junghyun frowns. 

You laugh at his adorable expression. When you were near a cute Junghyun, you doubted anyone could ever reject his request. You begin to speak, even though you held no particular feelings towards Jungkook himself in that way. “I’ll tell you,” you smile, “your brother,” you hold onto his hand a little tighter while you think. 

“Your brother is a softie. Even though he looks like the type of person to fight you if you wake him up when he doesn’t want to be.” Junghyun chuckles lightly at your words. “Is he? He’s never that way towards me,” you felt how Jungkook’s fingers intertwined with yours. Was it a signal to stop, or maybe keep going? Or did you really say something true? You didn’t pick up on that one. 

“He is,” you reply with a quick smile, before Jungkook stops in his tracks, making you stop too. “We’re here,” the male speaks and then turns around to Junghyun. “Your job is done. Thank you for accompanying Y/N. I’ll be taking her now,” the grin on Jungkook’s face did tug at your heart, you weren’t going to lie. Junghyun did protest like a little child, but he left soon enough. 

 By that time, you were sitting on Jungkook’s bed, waiting for Jungkook to close the door so you could talk to him about the whole situation. 

“You okay?” he asks, coming to sit down next to you after closing the door. “I’m fine. Just…” maybe it was for the fact that you were pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend. Maybe that’s why you flinched whenever he came close to you, maybe that’s why you felt so different being in his room, despite being here countless times before. 

“I’m just tired. There’s no good ending to this, Jungkook… I’m tired,” you look towards him, suddenly tears flood your eyes. You don’t know why you are suddenly on the verge of crying. Maybe it’s because you were pretending? 

“I see those happy expressions on my parents’ faces… they don’t fake it, Jungkook,” his expression softens at your words. A little part of you knew that your tears were Jungkook’s weakness. Whenever you didn’t feel good, he’d get incredibly worried. You didn’t cry as much in front of him anymore, but you hoped that he didn’t change. That he still cared for you, even if a little bit. That’s what you hated about growing up, you would have other people in your heart, and Jungkook would have others. You wouldn’t care as much for each other anymore. And that fact scared you. 

Seeing you act so small, Jungkook couldn’t believe his eyes. He puts your head against his chest, hugging you side-ways. He didn’t know you were so pressured by his request. It wasn’t something small and he wouldn’t trust anyone but you with it. He did care a lot for you. And he wanted you to know that, even if he acted like an imprudent, idiotic friend sometimes. He had asked a little too much of you and he was coming to understand that. But the damage had been done. 

How could he reverse the action? There was no way. You were stuck with him till he revealed the truth, and the mere thought of you crying hurt him. It was painful to see you cry, even for an over-confident, cold person like Jungkook. He had made you cry, just because he was too scared to tell his family the truth, and he was scared he might not be accepted for dating someone that wasn’t of a noble or royal family. 

 He would try to tell the truth very soon, he promised to you mentally. He would do anything, to tell the truth when the right time comes. He just hoped you were willing to wait for that long. 

“Shh,” he hushes, running his hand through your hair in gentle strokes. You smiled a little. At least you had someone. It was better than being alone. “I know that. I know and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for asking you something like this. Hyun-ae and I just weren’t ready. And what I did makes me look like a complete idiot, so I���m very sorry for being so inconsiderate towards you. I really… appreciate that you’re going this far for me." 

Your efforts, at least, were recognised. That is what made it all the better. The door was being knocked on. 

While you made sure your make-up was intact, Jungkook opens the door. It’s Junghyun’s voice from what you can hear. "Fine,” Jungkook says, closing the door and turning to you. You raise a brow, wondering what’s the problem now. “Mother wants us to talk to the media and announce our marriage. They agree with it." 

The way he spoke the words made your cheeks taint with pink. You weren’t expecting it to be so soon, but your families knew each other very well, so it was no surprise. You were really going to fool the world now. It was happening, and the nerves instantly came back from last night. 

Taking a deep breath as you fixed the last of your make-up and took a final look in the mirror after your breakdown, you turn towards Jungkook. 

"Okay. Let’s go.” 

By the time you were standing in front of the crowd of reporters and paparazzi, your nerves had taken complete control of you. 

Jungkook’s and your mother explained the situation to the media while you stood a little to the side, your hand in Jungkook’s. He said it would emphasise the relationship, but you weren’t very sure of that. You just wished he knew the risks. 

“When are you planning to hold the wedding?” one reporter asks, his voice ringed out the loudest. Sometimes, when they thought you weren’t looking, the paparazzi would take a picture of your intertwined hand with Jungkook. Everyone’s eyes turn expectantly at his mother at the question. 

“I’m scared,” you whisper to Jungkook, hoping he hears.

It wasn’t like voicing out your emotions rid you of the situation, but it did make you feel better when Jungkook squeezed your hand. “It’s okay… calm down.” Jungkook’s mother thought quietly for a moment. 

“The wedding date hasn’t been decided as of yet, but it will take place as soon as possible — it depends on the preparations. But I’d say very soon.” You didn’t know what very soon meant, but you doubt it was good for the plan. 

“Could we have a picture of the couple?”

Your cheeks turn pink at the word, flustering you. Maybe you’d never get used to this till it ends. 

You did find the idea of having a partner nice, but Jungkook as that partner? You had never thought about him that way. But then again, you guess it wasn’t that impossible to think of your relationship accelerating. The way he genuinely laughs, the smile on his dimpled face, the fact that he does care for you — it all ignited this small fire inside you. Maybe being his partner wasn’t that far off. 

Jungkook’s mother nodded to the question, and all the cameras had turned towards you and Jungkook before you knew it. “Are we going to pose or—?” you ask hastily, making him look to you with a light smile. For the first time, you hope that the smile meant something more than just a mask. 

Putting his arm around your waist, his lips catch yours unexpectedly. For the sake of the plan, you close your eyes and try not to act surprised, but you didn’t deny the fact that your heart was racing. His soft lips, and the way he smiles ever so sweetly while kissing you, it all starts to become so precious to you. You were wrong when you thought about who’d want to be his girlfriend — who wouldn’t want to be his girlfriend? 

The kiss, gentle and at the same time, passionate, lasted longer than you had expected it to. Probably because there were a lot of cameras and he wanted to make sure they all got a picture. You didn’t mind it at all though. Dare you say it, you loved it. It was like a little taste of something you had never tasted before. It left you wanting more, even if it was only a little bit you’d receive. But you were going to hold a grudge against him and yourself for this one. He had a girlfriend, already, for God’s sake. 

“Do tell us what it is you love about princess Y/N?" 

The question must have caught both of you out of the blue, because you turn to each other at the same time. Everyone turns to you two, and in the heat of the moment, Jungkook decides to speak up. "I love Y/N. We’ve had so many memories together. Spent our whole lives next to each other, basically,” you had been freaking out on the inside till he had started speaking. Thankfully, no one seemed to get that from the plastered smile on your face. 

“I love us. I love how she is so caring and helpful. She might be a bit annoying at times,” you elbow him, “but I love that side of her too. She’s the most precious to me.” You couldn’t help but take the words to heart. Now you desperately wanted to hear “I love Y/N” from his lips over and over again — but that would never happen. You were just getting your hopes up, and Jungkook was practically begging you to do that. 

“What do you think about the crown prince?" 

You start to fluster, trying to think of words. Why did they have to know all of this? You were going to make sure that on your real wedding announcement, these questions would be banned — why did it hurt when you labelled this relationship as fake? You were only taking this logically. The heart was naive. 

 "I think that Jungkook is great.” You try to come up with more, turning quiet. Jungkook’s hand finds yours again, intertwining once more. But why did it matter so much now? “He’s funny and energetic. He helps me loosen up. I…” you bite your lower lip, not able to say what you thought of. If you said “I love him,” would it stand out to him like it stood out to you? 

“He’s the… most amazing person and I couldn’t ask for anyone better." 

———

You slump down on the bed on your stomach as you reach Jungkook’s room after the horrible announcement, him following behind you. "You’re that tired, pillow princess?” you hear him say, and even if you can’t look at his face, you’re so sure he has that grin on his face like always. 

You groan, turning to lay on your back. “I’m not tired. Do you know how horrible it went?" 

"It went perfectly. Everyone thinks we’re dating. Now what you need to do,” he says as he leans down on the bed alongside you, “is to keep it going. Mother is really keen on having me take over the throne this year. Which, I suppose you know the rules, but you have to have a queen for that. Hence the rushed wedding. She says the engagement isn’t very important." 

"But it is—” you cut in, though Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge the sudden interruption. “I agree with her. Do you want us to be legally bound before the wedding? Did you forget the actual plan?” you sigh. He was right. In the end, it wasn’t you who was going to get married to him. It was Hyun-ae. 

“Right. You’re right. Why did you need this time anyway?” you ask, turning to Jungkook. You had totally forgotten about the kiss, but now remembering it, you couldn’t just pretend that it didn’t happen. 

You were going to ask him about that too. “Hyun-ae needs to talk with her family about everything. I have to, too. I don’t know how to approach them right now… you know?” he answers calmly. “I almost feel like I’m being used." 

Jungkook looks at you, then sighs. He pulls himself up to look over you. You feel a little exposed, but if this plan were to go smoothly, you had to be a good sport about it and help Jungkook. Even though he didn’t do anything back for you. If not for Jungkook himself, then for the bond you shared. It had to go this way. 

"I’m sorry again.” The simple apology made you feel a little sad. “Not that I mind being used,” you laugh, sitting up. You realise how weird it sounds and shrug a little. “I mean… it’s good to be of use, right…? Help your friends?” you smile lightly at him, making him shake his head. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he says quietly, making you giggle. “That’s the first time I’ve heard it from you. Glad to know my efforts actually matter!" 

"Your efforts do matter. Yes, maybe sometimes, I’m ignorant of the fact that you’ve saved my ass countless times, but I appreciate you. Please know that,” he smiles a little your way, making you smile back. Your thoughts wander back to the kiss, which still makes your heart race. Maybe it’s because you have never kissed Jungkook. Whatever the reason, your mind couldn’t wrap itself around the way his lips felt on yours.

A little part of you wanted to experience that feeling again, but that was wrong and you weren’t asking a taken man to kiss you. That was stupid, not to mention, awkward. 

“So the kiss… Jungkook,” you can see how he tenses up at you bringing up the topic. It worries you. “You have a girlfriend." 

"I know.” 

“But you still kissed me." 

"I know.” 

“Why?” you ask bleakly, looking at him and hoping to receive the same back, but he doesn’t turn towards you. The air just gets a little chilly. It makes you nervous. “I had to make them believe us. Hyun-ae will understand. I know you hated it. I’m very sorry for that too,” you shake your head at his words. Choosing to ignore that he said you hated the kiss, you sigh. 

“It’s fine. But you should check up with Hyun-ae. She’d feel very bad if you didn’t approach her about this." 

You’d feel bad if you saw in the news that your boyfriend had kissed someone else and they were going to get married soon — even though it was fake and you knew. You’d still want your boyfriend to tell you about it, reassure the fact he still loved you. Hyun-ae was the victim in this situation, not you — having seen her boyfriend kissing someone she didn’t know all over the place, hearing it from everyone in town, yet still being able to do nothing about it, because she was not in the position to. You felt bad for her. 

"You’re right… I’ll call her,” Jungkook gets up, taking his phone and leaving the room. 

It felt a little empty without him, especially as it was his room. You had been here multiple times, but maybe it was his presence you wanted most. You shake your head. If you pretend to fall for Jungkook, maybe it will happen. And you didn’t want to fall for someone you couldn’t have. 

Someone, who is so dear to you. It would just put both of you in trouble. And you wanted him to be married to someone he loved — that someone wasn’t you and you had to accept it. 

——— 

Before you knew it, it was dinner time. 

Jungkook had talked with Hyun-ae, and initially, she had been a little angry, but thankful that Jungkook had talked it out with her, so things were settled soon enough. Or that’s what you were told, anyway. 

 You sat down at the royal table to eat. It was a little larger than yours back at home, but nonetheless, the food looked delicious and you couldn’t wait to dig in. Midway through the dinner, Jungkook’s father spoke up. 

“I believe that it would be good if you two spent more time looking around the kingdom together. Jungkook could show you the famous sites,” his father turns to you, and you give him a slight nod with a smile. Wonderful — more time to spend with the annoying Jeon Jungkook. You turn towards the said boy, who seems to be eating his dinner quietly. Very unlike himself. 

“That works… and about the rooms,” you say, starting to play with your food out of nervousness. “Where will I sleep?” you ask quietly, though everyone seems to hear it loud and clear. Jungkook turns to you instantly, and you could see the worry in his eyes. Worry for what, you did not know. “Room? Won’t you sleep in Jungkook’s room?” his mother speaks, making you bite your tongue. You shouldn’t have said that. But you didn’t want to share the room with Jungkook. That would be awkward. 

“I was thinking of that, I just—” you bite your bottom lip, then shake your head. There was no explaining it. If you didn’t shut up now then everyone would catch on. “It’s fine, I’ll share the room with Jungkook,” and you supposed the bed, but you hoped it wouldn’t be the case. “Anywho, when are we going to visit the sites?” you change the topic abruptly, mustering a smile. 

You did not dare to look at Jungkook. 

After dinner, you opted to spend time in Jungkook’s room. Clearing your head, you stood at the balcony near the railing. Jungkook’s father had decided that you’d be going to visit the famous sites tomorrow. It was certainly going to be interesting, seeing as Jungkook showed no liking to things like that. He’d probably take you to a fun ride instead. Or so you hoped, because you had no interest in seeing famous sites and learning their names either. 

 Sometimes you and Jungkook were two peas in a pod, and sometimes he felt like your polar opposite. 

Everything was so hard to digest. Why were you agreeing to his plans, you didn’t even know the full tale. In the end, you knew it would give nothing but pain. So why did you agree? 

You thought it was because you were trying to be a good friend. You had known Jungkook for so long. You appreciated whatever you had with him, and you supposed that was why. You wanted him to marry his love. And at the same time, losing him to Hyun-ae felt like hell. 

Ultimately, that was his happiness. So you wanted him to marry the love of his life. The thought brought a smile to your face. But still, your heart wrenched. It was melancholic — you loved the thought of it, but you couldn’t see him getting married. Because that meant you were growing up. You wouldn’t be around each other anymore. Responsibilities would be burdening you. And in the end, the ties would be cut. 

Well, not cut. They’d fade away. Time took everything from you. From everyone. But especially from you. You didn’t want to lose your friend to something as idiotic as marriage. You were surprised initially that he was even settling down — Jeon Jungkook was settling down for someone. Out of all the things you expected, that wasn’t one of them. He must really love her. 

You wished you could experience that kind of feeling. Unconditional, pure love for someone. Wanting to be with them so bad. But whenever you thought about that, you’d just feel lost. There was no one you felt something like that for. 

 "What are you thinking of?“ Jungkook’s voice rings in your ear, making your thoughts disappear. "Just the… whole thing. About you marrying Hyun-ae,” you wonder if it came out wrong. If Jungkook would be mad at you for putting it that way. If he was offended. But he wasn’t. Instead, he approached you quietly, now standing alongside you. 

“What do you mean?” you sigh at his question. “I meant… This is stupid,” you groan, unable to put your thoughts into words. “What I mean is… I don’t want to lose my friend. I am scared that… when you’ll get married… you’ll leave me. And seeing how things are going, I don’t think our kingdoms will be friends for much longer. We’re fooling everyone, Jungkook. They believe our lies,” you turn to him. It wasn’t a frown that you had on your face, it was fear for the future. 

It was like a river was rushing through your head and heart. A bunch of emotions colliding with each other, washing away your comfort and peace. You were beyond scared. You had always imagined spending the rest of your life with Jungkook — but that was always as friends. Now, you weren’t sure what you were anymore. 

“Imagine the chaos and betrayal. Everyone will lose their trust in us. They will make fun of you. Fun of me. Fun of our families. And you’re doing this just because… what? You want a common girl?” the sentence came out harsher than you wanted it to be. Jungkook turns his head to you. You could feel poison seeping out of his eyes for a moment. It hurt you more than it should’ve. 

“Don’t speak of Hyun-ae like that.” You sigh, nodding sarcastically. “Right. And you tell me who should I speak of like that? You or Hyun-ae? You’re both behind this! You’re ruining everything. You’re ruining your life, you’re ruining your future rule, and you’re ruining my life too!” you exclaim. “Keep it down or they’ll hear us,” Jungkook mutters. 

“I’m a victim in this situation!” you speak even louder. “I’m scared for my life! I deserve to speak as much as I want. However loud I want. Do you know what you’ve put me through?! What I have to do?! All this pretending, these lies,” you stop to catch your breath, hands trembling. “It’s not going to end good, Jungkook. It’s not going to end well. Your plans are bound to fail, like always.” You were initially surprised that you spoke this far without getting interrupted. Jungkook didn’t speak up. 

“You’ve ruined me. For once, at least once… be my saviour like I’ve been yours.” 

You didn’t speak to each other that night after that. 

He was your ride or die. He had never put anyone above you. But now it was clear. It was clear that he didn’t care for your life anymore — he had Hyun-ae now. He had her love and he didn’t mind whatever happened to your friendship. With those thoughts, you cried yourself to sleep that night on the bed. 

———

It was day one of sight-seeing. Or more like, site-seeing. Jungkook had made himself comfortable on the floor last night. You woke up to find him laying on the ground, sound asleep. At first, you were shocked, but remembering the events of last night, the sorrow and tension just returned to you. 

You shook him awake, and he retorted at first like he always did, but in the end, he did get up. 

He was now going through his closet, trying to pick an outfit. It reminded you of how you still hadn’t unpacked. Your luggage had been put in Jungkook’s room and looking over your shoulder, you could see the two bags you had packed. They were small and cute, pink in colour. They stood out in the room, which was mostly of golden and brown hues. 

The truth was that you were afraid of talking to Jungkook. Seeing as he didn’t care enough to initiate the conversation, it made you nervous. Had he really taken all of those things to heart? More importantly, you were asking yourself if you really did mean everything you had said. 

Were you mad at him or was it the frustration of pretending to be something, someone you’re not? 

Mentally telling yourself ‘screw it,’ you turn to Jungkook and clear your throat to gain his attention. He doesn’t stop looking for clothes through his wardrobe, but you saw him flinch ever so slightly when you did make a sound. You were going to say sorry. But was it really your fault? 

You wondered why you were even saying sorry when it wasn’t even your fault. If anything, it was Jungkook’s. And Hyun-ae’s, someone that you hadn’t even met yet, but still she was ruining your life. You dismissed yourself again. You had to be a good friend. 

“…I’m sorry about last night…” you begin speaking, making him stop in his actions. His face was hidden behind his arm, so you couldn’t see his expression. You were feeling really sick now. “I’m sorry about whatever I said,” even though it was all correct, “it was very inconsiderate of me,” it was very inconsiderate of him to ask you to do all this, “and I’m really at fault. I mean it.” You didn’t mean it. 

He turns to you with a sigh, then sits down next to you on the bed. “It's… it’s fine. I know you wouldn’t mean those types of things, I just…” he bites his lower lip, clearly confused about his own emotions. “You just got defensive?” you ask bitterly, making him frantically shake his head. He stayed quiet for a moment. “Maybe you’re right — yeah — I guess…” he gives in, nodding lightly. 

You click your tongue, “you know fights aren’t worth it. Let’s just… forget it, ‘kay? That never happened, okay?” you smile at him, he looks at you with uncertainty before he gives you a bright smile back. Bright just like himself. That’s one thing you loved about your friendship: you made up quickly. You loved that smile. You loved his laugh, the genuine one. 

He was sarcastic and stupid, he did things that were, otherwise, outright reckless, but you loved that too. It was what made him… well, him. 

That day was spent around the popular sites of the kingdom — he showed you a clocktower that was made by his great-grandfather. It reminded you of Big Ben, which was in England. 

Next, you were shown the royal museum that held the edicts and some artefacts, which were used by the royal family. Some were swords used in ancient wars, some were cups of gold used by the previous kings, and the proclamations of some rulers were inscribed on scrolls.

You were shown around a lot of historical monuments too. It was quite boring, to be honest, and Jungkook’s father had one of the noblemen show you and tell you everything, so you couldn’t even do something fun. At least Jungkook’s snarky comments saved the day. 

——— 

Day two had been switched up by Jungkook. He had told his father that ‘enough was enough’ and he ‘wanted to do something more fun’. So you guessed that’s how you got to the amusement park you were at now. 

It was the largest one in his kingdom, no doubt quite expensive, with the rides you had seen. It was nicely decorated, with banners and streamers. Almost like a birthday party. But maybe the sight would’ve been more colourful if the paparazzi hadn’t swarmed you, shoving the cameras in your faces. 

You held Jungkook’s hand tightly as you ventured through the crowd. You never knew Jungkook was good at archery. But apparently, he was. It was a little minigame and if you could hit all the points on the several boards, you could choose what prize you wanted — they were all plushies. 

When he did hit all the points, he offered you to choose the prize for yourself. You knew exactly what you wanted. The cute pink bunny, which in the end, was named Cooky by Jungkook. Ironic. 

You went on a rollercoaster next. It would be an understatement to say you were screaming all the way. Jungkook was surprised that your voice could even reach that high. “Only if you put me on a rollercoaster or put a cockroach on me,” you had replied, making him laugh as he dragged you to the next ride. 

 But you wished you had known that one ride could make you scream like no other. 

It was a ship. A ship dangling in the air. Now you were told that it would swing forward and backward in the air, but that didn’t explain the horror enough. 

“Jungkook, for the love of God, I swear I’ll give you all the banana milk you want, please don’t let me go, please don’t let me go, I’m gonna die—!” maybe you had forgotten to mention that those kinds of rides made you sick. Any time the ship swung forward was the mania. You felt like it would throw you out of it. You were clinging to Jungkook for your dear life, with him holding Cooky alongside you. 

You felt like you’d die. Any time it swung backwards, you’d get the time to breathe and calm down, then prepare yourself for the next forward swing, but of course, you could never be prepared enough. In the end, you’d always scream your lungs out. Thankfully, Jungkook held onto you securely the whole time. 

 "It’s okay, it’s okay!” you heard his laugh follow. Your arms were around his thin waist, making sure you wouldn’t fall off. You felt like you were flying but it was worse. You were just praying you wouldn’t fall out and die. 

At least Jungkook managed to whisper affirmative words, and you were able to catch a few in the loud wind. “It’ll be fine, I’m with you, it’s okay… I’m with you,” he kept on repeating. You were glad when the ride was over, and you had to be supported by a laughing Jungkook as you were quite dizzy after all that. 

Your brain was buzzing and you couldn’t even see properly. In fact, you were shaking in your boots. That was the worst time of your life. And you never wanted to experience it again. 

 To calm things down a bit, Jungkook decided to go on the Ferris wheel next. Cooky was given to you and you hugged it the whole way to the ride. Getting into your cabin, you were finally able to take a breath of relief and organise your thoughts. Your hair was a bit of a mess, so you fixed that as best as you could. You still hugged Cooky tightly though. You were scared. 

 "The sunset’s pretty,“ you couldn’t believe the day had gone so fast as you spoke. Sunsets were always pretty romantic, so mentioning that just made you nervous. Jungkook smiled softly, nodding to your words. Seeing that smile on his face, it just made you feel all giddy. 

At some point during the ride, the question turned from ‘why could everyone see you as a real couple’ to ‘who wouldn’t call you two a couple?‘ 

 You were falling deeper and deeper into the abyss that was Jungkook. Yes, he was foolish and he made decisions even if he knew that they would result in bad things happening. He wasn’t the smartest, but his smile was adorable. His laugh was adorable. The way he held you was something you had started to like a lot more. You really did love everything he did — so were you in love? 

No, of course not… or you thought. He had a girlfriend and it was stupid to be in love with a taken man. But he did ask you to act like his soon-to-be wife, so you were just going to use that to your advantage. Maybe you couldn’t be with him, but the moments you two had were precious to you. 

And if you could have more of those, then you were satisfied. Love hurt and it didn’t always work out. And that was fine, so you wouldn’t try to make him fall for you. 

You were sure that if he was meant to do that, then it could’ve been done a lot more sooner — before Hyun-ae had come into the picture. 

"I really like it too.” His reply made you lose your train of thought. You smiled at him as he stared in the distance, looking a lot calmer than usual. Maybe the possibility of falling in love with your childhood friend wasn’t that low. 

The kiss came back to you, memories of his soft lips flooding your mind. Heat rose to your cheeks, so you opted to conceal your blushing face by hiding it behind the giant pink bunny that was Cooky. 

Maybe you wouldn’t mind falling for Jeon Jungkook. 

———

Each and every day, you felt like you were falling more and more for his beautiful smile. His oblivious laugh. His sparkling eyes. He may have been intimidating, but he was the softest person you knew. He was caring and gentle.

He was protective of those he cared for. Just like you. Just like Hyun-ae.

At one point, you had told yourself to stop falling for him. Like it was even possible. But still, you distanced yourself from him. Or you had tried to. You had told yourself that he was taken, it was stupid to fall for him, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bear being hurt. But the heart never listened to anyone. You just felt yourself wanting more and more from him.

You had always thought that your ‘soulmate’ must be out there somewhere, just waiting for you to come along. But now that you were falling deeper into the spiral, it eventually changed to ‘my soulmate lives in the kingdom next to mine and we’re ‘best friends’.’

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It hurt. It hurt so much. It killed you inside when you realised you couldn’t be with him. It absolutely devastated you. You hated it. But at the same time, you were happy. Wasn’t that love? Being happy because your loved one is. Smiling because he smiled. Laughing because he laughed. Living because he did. That was certainly how you felt.

"Tonight, we’re going out,” Jungkook says one unexpected night. You look at him with furrowed brows, confused. You had been continuing the site-seeing but you hadn’t been out at night. “Why? Where?” you blurt out, caught off-guard by the sudden exclamation.

Jungkook shifts closer to you hastily. “We’re alone, Guk. Seriously. No one is going to overhear you. We’re in your room,” you roll your eyes, but you don’t forget that your heart is racing because of how close he is to you. “We’re going to the club tonight.”

The seductive whisper wasn’t even the thing that sent chills down your spine. It was the fact that you were going to the club. And if you didn’t know better, you would’ve asked which club, but you knew it was the one Hyun-ae worked at. You felt a little unready for the whole occasion, to be honest.

“I— but what about your parents? What will we tell them?” you ask nervously, making Jungkook chuckle. Who were you kidding, he had probably taken care of that. He was just the best when it came to the worst things.

“Junghyun will take care of it. I told him to make up an excuse. He doesn’t know which club we’re going at anyway. Neither does he know about Hyun-ae,” you couldn’t ignore how sweetly he pronounced her name. Like she was something so precious, just an absolute treasure to him. You wished he called you like that.

“Okay.”

So that’s how you got to the club. It was jammed with people. You guessed that common clubs would be even more jammed. You saw people of high status dancing to the beat of the music on the dance floor, some had their lips on others’, some were downing glasses by the second. The overall situation was just sensual.

“This way,” with your hand in Jungkook’s, you were led to the bar where Hyun-ae worked at.

“Jungkook!” she was beautiful. In the dim lighting, you couldn’t see her especially well, but she was drop-dead gorgeous from what you did see. If you weren’t aware of her social status, you may have thought she was a princess working at a bar or something. Her voice was soft but clear, it was like music to your ears.

You were taken to a more secluded corner of the club, where Jungkook’s hand left yours. You felt yourself missing the touch instantly. He stood next to Hyun-ae now. Of course, she was his main priority. You were guessing the night was going to be a long one.

“So you’re Y/N?” you nod to her words, before realising that she probably couldn’t see that well either and decide to speak up. “Yeah,” you say. A little piece of your heart was on fire right now. It was hurting so much. This was the girl he was going to marry. After everything, she was the end goal. You bite your lip in an effort not to break down. You kept telling yourself you were happy for him.

But you weren’t. You were hurt. You wanted him to always be there like he had. You were being selfish and you hoped he’d forgive you for it. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Jungkook,” Hyun-ae giggled afterwards. “Thank you for being a good friend to Jungkook,” you could see her outline move closer to Jungkook’s. She wrapped her arm around Jungkook’s affectionately. You nodded slowly, then sighed.

You wanted to cry. Why did you agree? Jungkook’s adorable laugh as Hyun-ae put her arm around his — it was contagious. That was how you knew it was real. “I-It’s nothing, really. I appreciate Jungkook as a friend too…” you say quietly. Even your words were like a dagger to your heart. Your poor heart suffered too much.

You excused yourself as they started to say their ‘I love you’s. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to suffer more than you already had. Trying to hold back your tears, you blamed yourself for falling too hard, too deep. Your heart was pounding against your chest. You just wanted to hold him. You just wanted him but even that seemed too much to ask for.

You can barely stand up yourself, so you take support from the counter of the bar. “Some long island iced tea, please,” you mutter to the person at the counter, who prepares you the glass and you gulp it down within a matter of seconds, hoping it would ease the tightness of your chest. You knew you were going to get badly drunk, but it didn’t matter anymore. As long as you didn’t have to be sad today. It certainly did help.

You felt better. The liquor was washing away your sorrows. Your mind felt a little fuzzier. You order one more glass. Just one more couldn’t hurt. You drink that one down too, but this time leisurely, feeling a lot more free and careless.

The surroundings were becoming more blurry by the second. You felt light-weighed. Your tipsy self walked over to the familiar corner of the club, where you saw Jungkook and Hyun-ae on their own. Tugging on your friend’s jacket, you try to balance yourself with his support. “Y/N? Are you already drunk?” he asks, but his voice seems so distant that you just want to be lulled to dreamland at this point.

“No, of course… I'm… not drunk… not… yet?” you say, more as a question than a definite answer. Jungkook sighs. Well, this was bound to happen. He knew you didn’t handle alcohol very well, but how bad exactly, he wasn’t sure.“What did you have? Are you okay? Should I take you home?” you nod slowly to his words, but your brain didn’t register anything. “Two… iced teas… the long island ones…” you take the moment to appreciate the way Jungkook’s hands kept you up. You’d slide down to the ground if it wasn’t for him. 

"Seriously?“ he muttered something to Hyun-ae afterwards, but you didn’t catch it. "Let’s go… and sleep, I’m really tired…” you hadn’t even been there for half an hour. Yet still, you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore. "And let’s sleep on the same bed… okay? Don't… sleep on the floor this time… I’m worried you might catch a cold…” 

“I get it, let’s go,” Jungkook’s frustration was clear. But your drunk self didn’t seem to mind it all. He said some more things to Hyun-ae, whose distorted expression was something between concern and jealousy. Or so you hoped it was jealously, because you hated her. You absolutely loathed her. Everything about her. 

You were finally taken back to the castle unnoticed. 

“Why do we lie, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, you’re almost asleep but his question wakes you up. As he had said, he was going to sleep with you tonight. Every other night, you kept on switching between who’d take the floor and who’d take the bed. He was the one who mostly took the floor, but this night, things were different. 

“I don’t know… why are you asking me… I don’t lie…” you mumble through your sleep, eyes shut gently. “Everyone lies,” hearing Jungkook’s statement, you snicker. “I don’t, suck it up…” you reply. “Right. So you don’t. But why do others lie?” he repeats. 

“Because… hmm… depends…” you shift a little in the warm bed, blanket over your body. Jungkook was sitting on the bed, his back supported by the pillow as he didn’t feel the need to sleep just yet. His phone was in front of him. You wanted him to play you some melodies but that was probably too much. Enough destruction had been done today. 

“Sometimes we lie… because… we want to make others happy…” you pause, drifting more into sleep. “And other times?” Jungkook beckons you to continue. “Well… other times… we lie because… we don’t want to get into… trouble.“ 

"Oh,” Jungkook blurts out, making you reach out absent-mindedly, and punch his arm. Or it felt like his arm anyway. “Like you do. But there’s one other time we lie…” Jungkook’s eyes were on you. You could feel them. “When we… want something from someone else. When we are using them." 

"Now play me some music, please… some soft… sweet music." 

"I’ll sing for you." 

"Yes please…" 

"And you bless me with the best gift, that I’ve ever known, you give me purpose.” 

——— 

Lately, things had been very hard. Jungkook’s mother wasn’t joking when she had said that the wedding would be held as soon as possible. You were hogged with what to wear, make-up, hairstyles, and everything. 

You told her to take it slow as Jungkook had advised you to do, but she was very keen, just like you had thought. Side by side, your mother was in favour of everything too. 

To calm things down a bit, you told your mother and his mother that you and Jungkook would be going sightseeing again. It was the only way you could get out and breathe some fresh air. Most girls would be excited for their wedding day, but you wanted to postpone it as much as possible — well, it wasn’t yours, to begin with. 

The crowd was really bad this time. You were visiting the statue that Jungkook’s grandfather had apparently built. It was a man, young from what you could see, made of some sort of metal, maybe bronze or gold, but you weren’t sure. He held up a sword in the air, which reminded you almost of winning a war and doing your victory pose. Or maybe you had been playing a lot of Overwatch with Jungkook. 

News of your wedding was all around the kingdom now, you guessed it was like that in yours too. 

Jungkook’s hand was holding yours. But perhaps not as strongly. Everyone kept asking questions and screaming names, you may have heard some death threats too. Possibly fangirls of the prince, you guessed. The crowd’s force was so strong, even the few guards you had brought weren’t strong enough to hold them back. Should’ve brought more guards, the same thought recurred. 

Your hand left Jungkook’s in the midst of all the shouts and screams, and pushing and pulling. You were drawn back in the crowd, with no one noticing that you were outside the swarm now. 

Frantically, you ran around the circle of people, trying to get in but everyone was so used to forcing their way through, you couldn’t even get back to your friend. The word tasted bitter on your lips. You sigh, hastily running to another side before your eyes settle at the cafè that’s beside the other shops in the area. 

Hyun-ae. You could recognise her in the bright daylight. She was there with someone. A man, a man whose face was half-covered by the mask that he was wearing over his mouth. One you didn’t know. 

You step closer to the window, where their seats were at. Maybe you could hear them? Who was he? You didn’t want to jump to wrong conclusions, they could be siblings or cousins… or maybe even friends, who knows? But the sick feeling that you get at the pit of your stomach tells you something else entirely. 

Your breath is basically non-existent as you step closer, and the two don’t notice you. You stand next to the glass window, your back supported by the wall. You hope no one is recording you. You hope you don’t turn up in the newspapers, accused of eavesdropping. But you have to do this for yourself. For yourself and Jungkook. Besides, the reporters were a little too biased towards Jungkook and what he did rather than your doings. 

“I asked him for some more time,” her voice was just the same you had remembered it. It was still beautiful, and while you had only met her once, it was short, and days have passed since then, you could still recognise it. The only difference was that now it was infusing with your blood like poison. You hated her voice, her being. 

Your stomach started to churn and do back-flips. Your insides were burning. You felt almost bad for Jungkook. Was she the only one who needed time? Was that why you were dragged into this? 

“I don’t want to marry him. But I need to become queen,” you hear her whine. “Ah, Jagiya~ it’s okay,” the male’s voice was indistinguishable. You didn’t know who he was. “But I want to marry you! But you’re just not… enough. You’re not as rich. You’re not a prince,” she frowned. 

What was more stupid was that she was right near where Jungkook was. Did she expect him to show up and break up with her? How’d she ever become queen then? You wondered what her motive was. 

“Plus, I hate that friend of his. He’s always talking of her and she seems to be the type of person who talks all about him too.” That wasn’t a surprise. While it did make your heart flutter when you heard that he was talking of you to his girlfriend, that wasn’t what mattered right now. What mattered was that Jungkook was dating a cheater and it was stupid of him to waste his energy on someone like her. 

Tired and obviously angry, you give Jungkook a message to meet you at the car. Your anger was beyond measure. Feeling like you heard something you should not have, you didn’t know how to feel. You were scared, most of all. You finally find the car and get inside, tapping your foot with irritation. 

The car door opens and Jungkook sits inside. The driver starts up the car and you’re taken back to the castle. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks you when you get to his room. You avoided all of his questions in the car. You didn’t want to speak of the matter in front of the driver. 

"Hyun-ae is cheating on you,“ you say, and while you aren’t even the one in the relationship, your eyes flood with tears. You’re worried about Jungkook. You love him. You love him and you don’t want him to be heartbroken. 

"What?” he blurts out, turning to you with surprise. You lock your tear-filled eyes with his blank ones. “Hyun-ae is cheating on you. I saw her. I saw her, she was with another man… she’s…” you bite your lip, looking away. You felt pity above all. Pity for Jungkook. 

And here you thought you were the victim. That you were being used. But it was all along Jungkook, controlled like a puppet, the strings in Hyun-ae’s hands. 

“…she's… u-using you.” Jungkook stays still at the words. He didn’t want to speak. His heart fell. “You must have seen someone else,” he replies, plastering a smile. “There’s a lot of people who look like Hyun-ae." 

"But she sounded like her too." 

"She couldn’t be. She loves me,” you walk closer to Jungkook, shaking your head. How badly you wanted to scream that she didn’t love him like he thought. “How do I tell you…? I should’ve recorded it… I should’ve taken pictures… I know… but… I was too shocked… I’m so sorry,” you look deep in his eyes. For once, you don’t see twinkling stars. You see darkness — emptiness — and that spoke a ton about how he felt. 

“T-Tell me you’re lying. Hyun-ae… she couldn’t do that.” You sigh heavily, and it still isn’t enough to let out the frustration you feel. “I’m not lying. She’s cheating on you. I swear I’m not lying,” you say meekly. “I wouldn’t ever lie to you." 

"But you did.” 

You stare at him, eyes wide. “What do you mean?” you ask, brows furrowing.  "You meant everything you said that night. You said it was stupid of me to marry a commoner. I thought you were my friend…?“ your eyes widen more. 

You shake your head in denial, but your voice doesn’t come out. "Friends support friends." 

"I am supporting you! I’ve always supported you. You’re just blind in love,” you bite your lip, afraid you’d start crying. Jungkook turns quiet. “You can believe whatever you want to. Just know that I told you the truth. It’s Hyun-ae who—" 

"Don’t speak in that way about Hyun-ae!” the loud shout shook you. You take a deep, uneven breath, sniffing. “You picked Hyun-ae over me again. Even if I’m not lying,” you wipe the tears in your eyes. “This was what I was afraid of.” Your heart hurt. It hurt like it never had. You felt like your breath was being taken away, like you were suffocating. 

"I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s a lost cause.”

———

It had been days since then. Jungkook and you had separate rooms now. You had requested that of Jungkook’s mother and she agreed. Everyone could sense that something was wrong, because you both kept shut in your individual rooms. Though no one would mention it. There was no sightseeing, no communication between you and Jungkook.

You’d go to give him food but he’d never open the door. In the end, it was left at his doorstep.

"Y/N, darling, we should go shopping for your dress, no? The wedding is real close,” and did you forget to mention that the wedding was coming really fast now? Unlike yourself, Jungkook was in his room all day. He didn’t get out of it for a single moment. You sometimes got up to go out because your mother told you so.

“Sure…” the wedding was supposed to held in a wedding hall, and you had decided upon going for a more western style. A white dress, made to perfectly suit you. It all felt a little useless now. You weren’t even going to be married to Jungkook anymore. There was no point, but the others didn’t know.

Jungkook didn’t know.

As your mother would show you pretty dresses and awe over them as they fit your wedding theme, you’d think of what Jungkook would be doing. Was he crying? Was he sad? Or was he happy? Was he playing Overwatch, or maybe he was talking to Hyun-ae. Maybe that last thought wasn’t as soothing as the rest. At least every time you gave him food, he’d take it inside. Hopefully, he was eating well. He’d never open the door to anyone though, not while they were standing there.

You sigh, pick any dress that comes to mind and show it to your mother. Your mind just kept zooming back to Jungkook. He hadn’t taken his attire yet, had he? A little part of you felt disgusted because while he was heartbroken, or so you thought anyway, you were picking out a dress for the wedding. And while you did love him, you just wished you could fix everything.

Maybe in another universe, in another world, some other time, you could be with him.

Getting back to the castle, you took the food tray you were offered from the kitchen and took it to Jungkook’s room. This was every day’s routine.

You knock on the door, taking a deep breath. You know he won’t open it, but a little part of you still thinks he considers it. He probably hates you though, no matter how much you deny the thought. “Jungkook… I brought food,” you say quietly, hoping he’d be able to hear it from the other side. Your heart was begging to just see his face again. He felt like a distant memory.

“Jungkook,” you knock the door again, but then stop, giving up. Putting down the tray, you hope he’ll take the food you left and leave.

You needed this to stop. You wanted him to hear from you again. You wanted to see his pretty face again. You wanted to hear his sweet voice again. Taking out your phone, you quietly muttered ‘screw it’ and texted Junghyun to tell him to meet up with you. You decided upon going to a cafè — not the same one as Hyun-ae’s, though. Just a random one that Junghyun recommended. You knew it wasn’t the same one as you entered. You didn’t want to confess in the castle. You were afraid someone would overhear. Plus it felt a little too confined. You wanted to get out and try to be a little happy for once. The castle felt like a jail of lies at this point.

“I want to tell you something…” you couldn’t believe you were doing it. “What?” you knew you could trust Junghyun. But to what extent? You were scared he might tell his parents, and then the news would quickly spread, but you had to do it. You knew you didn’t have Jungkook’s permission. But you weren’t going to back down now. For one, you didn’t need his assistance. You knew the truth. And secondly, it was far too late to turn back now.

“Promise me you won’t freak out,” you look at him with furrowed brows, and he nods slowly. “Okay… but… what are you—?”

“Is that princess Y/N?” you freeze. The news reporters. You could hear them approaching you. And for once, you felt frustrated. Why this place, of all of them? You get up, taking Junghyun’s hand, you get out of the cafè, where the swarm of reporters is already gathering. “Why are you holding prince Junghyun’s hand?” one asks. You take a deep breath. “I—”

“Are you cheating> on prince Jungkook?” your eyes flood with tears. You wanted to scream, you wanted to tell them the truth. But you were the antagonist. You always had been. You were set to be the jealous person that fell in love. You were never the princess you truly were in real life. You could never even think of cheating on Jungkook. But with the way you held Junghyun’s hand, it was clear to the crowd.

“Can you explain your relationship with prince Junghyun?” another asks. “Are you cheating on prince Jungkook with prince Junghyun?” one more question came. You were deaf to all of them. You wished you were. You wished you were deaf to the accusations. You bite your lip in an effort to not break down, tearing at the seams. You were tearing at the seams.

Grasping Junghyun’s hand even tighter, you walk away from the crowd, pushing and making your way back to the sanctuary you once had.

———

“They blame me, Jungkook…” your lip was quivering as you spoke to the door. It was late at night. No one was roaming the corridors at this time, and it was dark. But you hoped, you hoped that Jungkook was hearing you. “I never cheated on you… I swear…” you break down. “I wish you could open the door. I hope you can hear me… but I never cheated on you…” you felt like you were going crazy.

You were desperate to shout out the truth. You were done living a lie. Living as a lie. “Please… Jungkook… we were in this together… you told me that I was never alone…” but you were alone. Alone and so much more. The cheating accusations had spread like a wildfire. But you weren’t cheating. You were telling the truth. You were trying to tell Junghyun the truth so he could help you. He was like a younger brother to you.

“Please open the door…” you sniff, breaking down more. Tears wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks. “Everyone’s really worried for you too… I wish we could escape this. I wish we really could. I hope you’re okay…” you sob. You had a headache from crying. “I really hope you’re okay…” you bite your quivering bottom lip, “I care for you a lot. A lot. I really do.

"I love us too, Jungkook. But you’re making it hard for me to hang on.”

———

The castle was sombre. It had been like this for a while now. The royal families were trying to handle the situation, but the media had everyone fooled. Jungkook still hadn’t come out of his room, he’d never even take the food anymore. Junghyun had taken refuge in his room, he sometimes would come out. But whenever his eyes met yours, you could see the uncertainty they held.

You had given up on trying to tell anyone about the truth. You couldn’t do it without Jungkook. You wanted to die. You weren’t even living anymore. Just hanging between life and death. The food tasted stale because Jungkook wasn’t there. The room looked darker because Jungkook wasn’t there. Your heart always fell when you saw that the food tray hadn’t been taken inside by Jungkook.

His hands had held you. His arms had protected you. His eyes had made you smile. And his smile had made you laugh and feel all giddy. You couldn’t even blame yourself for falling for him — who wouldn’t fall for him? He was perfect, even with his imperfections, he was perfect.

Maybe the problem was Hyun-ae. Maybe it was her selfishness that led you all to this hell-hole. Or maybe it was you, caring a little too much for your own good.

It was the night before the wedding. You stopped in your tracks in front of Jungkook’s room. The door was as closed as it had ever been. The tray wasn’t touched even a little. You put the food aside.

“Jungkook. Tomorrow’s the wedding,” it wasn’t that late. He should’ve been awake. “Our plans have failed. I’m so sorry.” You turn quiet for a second. “I know you really wanted to marry Hyun-ae. You wanted to marry Hyun-ae and you loved her. You still love her,” it hurt to even say that, “but I failed you. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Your head perks up. Did you hear his sweet voice? It was him. Meek, but you could still identify it. “Why are you sorry?” you ask, trembling. You just wished he’d open the door and let you see him. It had been weeks. You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t go by without seeing his beautiful face, his shining eyes.

“You were right. Hyun-ae was cheating on me.” You stare expectantly at the door, waiting for it to open but it didn’t. “How did you find out…?” you ask again. At least you were true. “One of the noblemen told me. His name’s Taehyung. We’re quite good friends. I told him to follow her. He saw it with his own eyes,” he answered. While you did feel sad that he didn’t believe you but he did believe Taehyung, you couldn’t blame him. He really did love Hyun-ae.

“What about… the wedding now?” you ask weakly, afraid to approach the topic. “I don’t know anymore. I gave you so much pain. I put you through so much. You agreed. You deserve a much better friend, Y/N,” you shake your head at his words. “You’re my best friend. And…” you bite your lip. Something in you told you that you weren’t as scared to say it now.

“And I love you.” There was silence on both sides. It was understandable. You wished you were less selfish. He was still going through a break-up, you should’ve been nicer and save it for later. But you had come to realise that later wasn’t a thing anymore. Whatever was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“I loved you too.” Your eyes widen. “I did. I thought you saw me just like a brother… so… I… I went to the bar. I saw Hyun-ae. She helped… she was like a rebound. I hate to put it that way, because I did like her too… but I don’t even deserve you after what I did. I realise now that I’m selfish. I’m self-obsessed. I shouldn’t have asked you such a big favour. I mean… I loved you. You don’t do that to the people you love.

"When I spent time with you, I felt like I was with my soulmate.” You didn’t speak. You were too scared to. “I felt like I was on cloud nine. You made me so happy, Y/N. I laughed the hardest when you were around. You always seemed to put a smile on my face. You really did. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

———

The wedding day, you sigh. “Where is Jungkook?!” the queen exclaims, furious. Since he had locked himself in his room, she had bought his attire for him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You had talked to him last night, but after he confessed, he had turned quiet and eventually you were just talking to yourself.

Your mind did not focus on her though. It was somewhere else. “Love like the one between you and Jungkook can’t be faked, dear. You’ll be very happy with him,” your mother had said as you were being ready for the big day. You couldn’t explain the heartburn you felt when you heard her words.

Now everything was in chaos. No one knew where Jungkook was. You suggested checking his room, but it was locked. A locksmith was called immediately and after he had worked his magic, the door opened.

You were scared. But even more so, worried. Jungkook wasn’t in his room. Opening the bathroom door, Jungkook’s motionless body was found to be in the bathtub.

The rest was a blur. You vaguely remember freaking out, Jungkook’s mother’s screams, and the people who came to pick up the body. You couldn’t stop crying as you reached the hospital and Jungkook was taken straight to the ICU.

Your mother came to sit down beside you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she hugs you, while you sob into her shoulder. You were still in your wedding clothes. “He wasn’t even supposed to be my husband, mother.”

“What?”

“It was a lie…” you admit. “He wanted to marry a commoner. She asked him for time, so he asked me to play along so he could get some more time for his real soon-to-be wife. But she cheated on him. Only wanted the money and status. I wasn’t his wife, mother.” You look at her, her unwavering eyes making you break down even more. “I wasn’t dating Jungkook, mother.”

———

Since then, you’d visit Jungkook every day. He was diagnosed to be in a coma because of the lack of oxygen his brain had received after he tried to suicide by drowning himself.

Your mother had told his parents the truth, and thankfully, even if they were angry for some time, they let you see him again. You’d always bring Cooky with you. It was the one thing he had left you — along with countless beautiful memories.

The first year was heartbreaking. You’d come to visit him and cry every time. You’d tell him how much you love him and that you miss him and his jokes. That everyone misses him. Hyun-ae had come to visit too, and the visit had been short and silent. She told you that she was deeply sorry for what she had done. You fucking hoped she did.

The second year was when most people had forgotten he even existed. The hype had died down, but you still visited him. You told him about how you had spent your day, and that you had met someone promising. You always made sure to kiss him goodbye. You didn’t cry as much now. Sometimes you did, but most of the time, you made jokes. You told him about how people were making fun of you for fake-dating someone as amazing as Jungkook. It hurt, but you felt like Jungkook’s mere presence was enough to make you feel calm.

The third year came and went just as quickly. You told Jungkook about how you had started dating someone for real now. The promising person was by the name of Namjoon. He was another prince you had come across, from a nearby kingdom. Smart, humble, and sweet too. You told Jungkook of your adventures with Namjoon.

The first year that you didn’t have even one day to spare was the fifth one. You and Namjoon had decided to get married. And the preparations had you very busy. You felt bad for that, but you had no other choice.

———

Six years had passed. Going down the aisle, being wed to Namjoon reminded you of your precious friend. He was still in deep sleep, unaware that his loved one was going to get married. Even if he didn’t know Namjoon, he would’ve been the best man at the wedding.

Or wouldn’t it be better if he was the groom himself? You were not going to make the mistake of treating Namjoon as a rebound. It was wrong and he deserved more than that. You had seen how wrong that could go. But there was just something Jungkook had always made you feel that Namjoon just… couldn’t.

He was intelligent, his dimpled smile was adorable. But Jungkook made you feel elevated. He made you feel so incredibly special. And you knew fully well that you couldn’t ever really move on.

You knew that there may have been someone like him out there, but no one was Jungkook. Namjoon was everything Jungkook lacked — he was a planner, he cared for the consequences, and he didn’t take risks. But you just did not feel the way you felt with Jungkook. You wished you could’ve walked down the aisle to Jungkook, but that was wrong to think. So you shook your head and smiled even if your heart was unwilling.

There was no one like Jungkook. He was one of a kind and no one could compete with him. That was a simple truth. You just hoped your dear friend would wake up. There was so much to catch up on. There were so many things you wanted to say to him.

In the place that he would’ve sat today, sat another faithful, dear friend of yours — Cooky. A symbol of your lost love.

[cybersecopossum]

Parler: Less Free Speech, More Analytics

The free speech social media platform that disallows dissenting opinions and promises to farm your data

In the summer of 2020, Youtubers started bring up the social media platform Parler as a new alternative to Twitter and Facebook, after many of the same creaters also promoted Minds, Gab.io, and Candid (the platform that was allegedly a front to run analytics on users that were likely to be troubling). The appeal: free speech. Free to say anything you want and defend your ideas.

Truth be told, I've been to these sites, and I've been disappointed by every one of them. I support free speech, but I have no patience for a platform with the majority of their users are explicitly trolls or seemingly crazy people. These platforms have a habit of rapidly devlolving into holocost and world order conspiracy theories. It's a fine thing to offer everyone to say their piece, but I think apealling to the people that normally can't stay civil on major platforms is a recipe for disaster. Parler, however, has moderation, which seems a bit counter intuitive to free-speech, but it offers a clean image for new members. It's going into it a bit further that reveals that there's a lot more going on than a bunch of conservatives and Trumpettes getting a platform to say their tagline of the week.

My Views on the Relationship between Privacy and Free Speech

This is important, as I am often seen as trying to get away with saying my own crazy spew and not answering for it. That is not my intention. Today the public forum is used by special interest groups for unethical studies on users and as targeting platforms for retaliation. All I want is to seperate speech from identity and livelihood. The express purpose for doing so is to allow people to know what is being said and argue with the ideas while avoiding violence and the distraction of ad hominem. I do not support the use of social media bots at all, and I appreciate removing harassing content, spam, and obvious trolling from a forum. I do not appreciate removing one's sincere opinion while of sound mind or tracking them across platforms and this does a disservice to everyone to either have things hidden from them about a person and their beliefs or reading too far into their behavior and even predicting their real-life behaviors which puts many individuals at risk of violence.

Their Problems with Privacy

When you sign up for Parler, just like Twitter, you have to provide a phone number. This phone number is attached to your account, and by extension, your activity. While this is a way to ensure that people are not easily making replacement, spam, or bot accounts, it's also a bit of you that they get to market. You likely use your cell phone for other social media, it's used for a lot services like shopping rewards programs as well.

Who's interested in your phone number and why? Well, we can take a look at Parler's own Privacy Policy. For them they want to market things to you, identify you along with more personal details if you want to be a part of their influencer network, and to sell as part of their company to whomever that may be. They also allow for 3rd party analytics just like Facebook allowed Cambridge Analytica to view users on their platform.

Now, depending on how you connect to the platform, either by their webpage or their app, you can expect more information to be taken about your device. If you're using their app, their Privacy Policy specifically states that they will collect your contacts if you permit them. It's already required when you install the app, so by installing it, you already permitted them. More on the app store, on Android, they request to read, modify, and delete the contents of your SD card and take pictures and video from your camera. While these can be used implemented selectively in the code for uploading videos and pictures to your post, it's concerning given their other behaviors, such as requesting other applications that you have installed.

Regardless of whether you're using the web or app, you can expect that 3rd party cookies like those from Google, Amazon, and Facebook will be used to track you while you use the website. This along with information about what posts you view, searches you make on the site, times that you're online and active, and the people you follow make a nice package for people interested in your data, such as Google and Facebook, meaning the same exact companies may still be able to track you and affect your experience browsing online through ad services.

Overall this Privacy Policy leaves a lot to the imagination but still emphasizes enough that they will collect data on you to monetize it as an asset and with 3rd party research and advertising analytics. It is the same problems as Google, Facebook, and Twitter, but now with a neat controlled group of a mostly conservative user base. This, in the wrong hands, might be an interesting petri dish for highly-targeted political research.

Just My Privacy? Is that so bad?

Their ToS is a garbage fire, and I highly encourage everyone to read it just for the audacity of what it says outright, and what it carefully leaves out.

The Censorship-Free Twitter Alternative: Now with Censorship!

Probably the goofies thing to come out of Parler is all of the stories of people's accounts getting deleted for sharing their opinions. To add to this, I was having trouble getting my account removed (more on that later, so I opted instead to use the trending hashtags and tag a few popular users in a post where I stated that the website had all of the hallmarks of being shady. I waited over two days to have my account deleted the normal way, but within ten minutes of posting that Parley, I was banned. Amazing. But don't take our words for it, they explicitly tell you that if they don't like you, they'll ban you in section 9 of their ToS!

Coming soon: Worthless Microtransactions!

Section 6 of their ToS describe their virtual items. Interestingly, they outright deny you the right to trade or sell any of the items on the site without their permission. This is interesting not only because they are explictly enforcing the worthlessness of their virtual items, but this also precludes anyone from exchanging their account, and thus all the associated virtual items for money, goods, or services. This means if you grew an engaging account on the platform and a company is interested in buying access to it, you have to ask Parler's permission, and then they may only allow it contingent upon you giving more personal information such as, in their own example of them buying items back from you, your social security number.

Old Issues: The Deleted Sections

Very recently, the ToS have been changed. As you can see in this reddit post from the time of Parler's launch, any user of their platform was legally bound to be ready to defend and idemnify Parler in court for actions you take on the platform, and you are already bound to pay their fees in court if you are defending yourself against them or anyone responsible for Parler. You also were not allowed to sue them or be a beneficiary of a class-action lawsuit against them.

Final Thoughts

Parler is yet another alternative social media site which is has attracted the worst users from other sites right away. This makes the platform less attractive to "normal" users. Interestingly, their banning practices seem to indicate that they only want the conservative, but not too edgy crowd, the kind that is of really big importance socially and politically right now; the middle of the road, fly-over state blue collar family type that got excited about Trump because of the chants and rallies without really understaning the greater policies.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and outright describe Parler's intentions like I know them, because I don't. But I know that if I wanted to do market and polling research on the group of people in Europe and America that fit this general trend of hyper politics, I would curate similarly to Parler, protect myself from litigation from the users, collect as much information as I could on them and share that information with other websites to get a holistic picture of the users. I would make their usage of the platform unempowering and worthless to see what they were willing to do for minimal incentive. I would attract A and B-list figures within the different movements thant have supported the shift in politics and have them promote it for me, as well as get the alternative media sites to do gushing admiration articles on it over and over while more generally well regarded sites scoff and criticize it to get this particular subset of users into this one place where I can observe them.

Bottom line: this website's policies and behaviors are antithetical to free speech. You cannot advocate for free speech and be so anti-privacy in my view. You cannot claim to be a legitimate alternative to other sites when you are curating an environment for a specific group. You cannot be against censorship and then censor users for the most mundane posts that go against your image. This website is DOA, worst than the ones that came before it, because where as the others had hope of being normal that just ran out, this place squashes it right away. Parler is an exclusive right-wing platform and my personal opinion is that it is also a petri dish for analytics for this political persuasion

[raccoonwritings]

A Drink Away from Honesty Chapter 2

Childhood Friends AU (angst with a happy ending, be warned)

Lucas is an oversharing drunk, Eliott is both desperate and dramatic, and everyone is trying to just keep everything straight.

Or alternatively, Lucas and Eliott were childhood best friends until a storm tears them apart and brings them back together.

(Title from “Don’t Miss Me?” by Marianas Trench)

Chapter 2: Meet Choupi

Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 11:34

Lucas wakes up with a headache that thumps and a need for water that is overpowered by the desire to get more sleep. He shouldn’t have gotten crossed, he knows, but it was all he could do to keep himself from thinking about Eliott. Meeting him again after this long must have been a dream, right? Ugh, thinking about it makes Lucas’ head pound more. He just needs to sleep.

 Samedi 13:02

Lucas definitely hasn’t slept enough when Mika abruptly opens the door, shouting at Lucas to get his lazy ass out of bed, and pulling the blinds up to allow sunlight into the room.

“Up, kitten, up! You live in that bed!” Mika enthusiastically chants while crawling into Lucas’ bed with him. How ironic.

“Hnggg,” Lucas responds intelligently with his face smushed up against his incredibly flat pillow. He should really buy a new one. If his dad ever sends him money, of course.

“Well, aren’t you just the master of words this morning,” Mika sing songs. He snuggles up next to Lucas and receives a glare and another unintelligible noise. He soon finds Lisa joining the both of them in bed.

“You know what would get him up, Mika?” Lisa ponders knowingly.

“Why didn’t you mention sooner?” Mika extracts his phone from his pocket and pulls up Tinder. Lucas sees him clip the app icon and he is out. Despite having no energy and the pounding headache from before, he frantically detaches himself from the mattress and climbs over Lisa to reach the door.

“Sorry Mika, I have no desire to see the dicks of your Tinder hookups, or pictures of your dick,” Lucas grumbles, pushing down on the door handle and heading towards the bathroom.

Maybe a shower would help. Plus, he does smell a little of weed and shitty beer. A shower it is.

He walks out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, toweling his hair dry. Opting to grab some water before crawling back into bed, he makes a beeline for kitchen and searches the cabinet for a clean glass. There are used glasses in his room, on his desk, that he could wash and reuse, but that is far too much effort. Rearranging the far-left cabinet leads Lucas to find the secret set of nice glasses Mika must use for special occasions? Maybe they belonged to Manon and she left them here when she moved? Who knows. All that matters is that Lucas has a glass and can finally retreat back into his room.

With a half full glass of water – he chugged the first half – and a slightly damp towel, he treks back into bed. Finally, he’s alone. The water has helped his headache a little, but a pain killer couldn’t hurt. He downs a store brand equivalent of Tylenol and pulls out his phone for the first time that day to check his messages. Most were from the boys, just talking about the party last night, asking Lucas how far he went with Chloe, which he ignores with his entire being. He doesn’t want to talk about Chloe, who – of course – just then sends him a friend request on Facebook. He hates that he accepts, but he has to keep up the façade that he’s into her. This is enough to make him toss his phone aside and curl up in his singular blanket. Glancing around his room for something, anything to distract him, his eyes land on the recently empty cage that’s perched on his dresser. He really doesn’t want to think about that or anything else for that matter and actively ignores everything until his phone pings a short time later.

From: Unknown Number

Hey

 To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 From: Unknown Number

How was your night with that girl?

 Lucas couldn’t help but let out a huff. Who the fuck was this person asking about yesterday? He didn’t want to talk about it.

To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 Lucas isn’t answering any questions until he knows who he’s talking to. Unfortunately, he was waiting for a good hour before he discovered who has his number.

From: Unknown Number

You never gave me back my orange marker

 For the love of God. Lucas is over this. He has no desire to talk to Eliott at all, except Eliott is obviously not feeling the same.

From: Don’t Answer

I was really attached to that orange marker, Lucas. It meant a lot to me!

It broke my heart when you never returned it.

 It broke his heart? The audacity of him, honestly, to say that Lucas broke his heart. His sympathy and any naïve thought to respond was gone in an instant, only to be replaced by an all-consuming anger. A deep-seated sadness. This was the person who changed everything for him and left him to deal with the aftermath. The person who left him to retreat back into a skin he craved to shed. The person who forgot about him and was back again only to remind him of that.

 Lucas (9) and Eliott (11)

Mercredi 15:19

“Mom says I can get a dog!” Lucas exclaims as he sits on Eliott’s bed. They had both gotten out of a class not long ago and it was tradition that they head to Eliott’s to watch movies and goof off.

“That’s cool! Except, dogs are so last year,” Eliott replies, sitting across from Lucas in his neon yellow desk chair. Lucas huffs.

“What do you mean “so last year”? All the kids in my class are getting dogs for Christmas this year!” Lucas defends his desire for a fluffy companion. Dogs were, are a classic.

“They were like all the craze last year. You know what animal is on the rise this year?” Eliott responds animatedly. Lucas loves seeing his best friend like this even though he sounds like a complete idiot.

“What animal is on the rise this year, Eliott? Please, enlighten me,” Lucas rolls his eyes and emphasizes the ‘enlighten’. If Eliott didn’t get that he was being sarcastic, than he would really wouldn’t understand people at all.

“Obviously, my sarcasm has rubbed off on you, and normally I’d say that you following in my footsteps is the way it should be, but considering you’re only nine, I’d say maybe dial it back a bit. Okay?” He smiles, crooked and genuine. Lucas nods and returns a toothy smile, encouraging Eliott to continue since he still hasn’t unveiled what animal has become the most popular. “Alright, so a dog is great, yeah, but what about a hedgehog?!” Eliott finishes his question with another smile and jazz hands, causing Lucas to burst out in laughs.

“A hedgehog? Really? How are they better than a dog?” Lucas crosses his arms over his body and awaits the other boy’s response.

“They are! They’re cute, don’t require walks, or are ridiculously needy. I don’t know, they just remind me you a bit, too.” Lucas’ heart warms at Eliott indirectly calling him cute. He doesn’t understand exactly why, but it makes him feel good. He knows his cheeks are reddening, but luckily Eliott has turned around to face his laptop and is in the process of searching for pictures of baby hedgehogs. He finds a particularly cute picture and beckons Lucas to his side, which he immediately follows.

Lucas can’t not admit that the baby hedgehog is quite cute, but he’d never admit that to his friend. He would never admit to him that he wanted one now, slightly because of the fact that these small animals reminded Eliott of him and very much because of the idea of not having to put forth a ton of effort in walking it and cleaning up its shit.

Lucas also wouldn’t admit, at least right now, that when he arrives at home that night for dinner, he asks his mom, pleads with her, to let him get a hedgehog. She denies him for the moment and asks him why he’s had a sudden change of heart, considering he had been pleading for a dog for months on end. He wouldn’t admit the real reason to her either.

Months later, after Lucas’ 10th birthday, Eliott is bounding up the stairs leading to Lucas’ bedroom and knocking open the door with clumsy force. Lucas is standing in front of his dresser, which dons a shiny new cage, with his arms wrapped around something small. He turns and smiles wide at his best friend.

“Meet Choupi!” He exclaims, removing one of his hands to reveal a baby hedgehog. Eliott’s grin is wild.

“You took my advice!” He says, bouncing his way over to Lucas on the other side of the room. He leans down to get a closer look at the small animal when he makes a revelation. “Wait, Choupi?! Really, Lucas?” Eliott laughs with his body and looks to see his friend blushing.

“I’m not that creative, okay! There’s no need to make fun.” Lucas says, turning away from his friend. He’s a bit embarrassed now.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it to be mean. It’s cute, I like it. It reminds me of you,” Eliott says, smiling tentatively. Lucas’ is no longer embarrassed when he meets his friends eyes, eyes that are full of nothing but warmth.

“Want to hold him?”

“YES!” Lucas giggles at the excitement. He tells Eliott to open his hands and slowly glides Choupi into his palm. It’s not a surprise that Choupi takes an immediate liking to his best friend. He totally understands.

 Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 14:06

Lucas just stares at his phone. He can feel the anger bubbling. How dare he come back into his life like this. How dare he up root all the damage control he’s done. Well, he hasn’t exactly done anything yet, but Lucas knows a storm is coming. Eliott left with a storm and he’ll come back with a storm, Lucas knows. He used to love those storms.

He loses himself in his thoughts and doesn’t feel his phone ping again.

From: Don’t Answer

Please talk to me.

 Lucas feels torn. A deep part of him, a part he has worked so hard to push down, wants to talk to him. He wants to feel connected to him again, but he knows that it is only going to hurt more in the end. He’s just going to leave again and Lucas can’t survive another one of that. He’s out of tape to piece his heart back together.

To: Don’t Answer

Leave me alone

 From: Don’t Answer

Aha!  You’re talking to me!

 Lucas rolls his eyes.

From: Don’t Answer

So, how are you?

I’m good, thanks for asking

I could go for a coffee though

Wanna join me?

I’ll be down at the coffee shop

You know the one

The one we always went to

Our coffee shop

 Lucas is dumb found. ‘Our coffee shop.’ They weren’t a ‘we.’ There was no ‘our.’ At least not anymore. Lucas contemplates for a several minutes before another ping from his cellphone makes the decision for him.

From: Don’t Answer

Shit, I forgot. I have to see Lucille later. I’m really sorry. Raincheck?

 Lucas laughs bitterly, tossing his phone to the side. Yeah, raincheck.

[vampirefreakism]

The Scientist (Chapter 23)

Summary: In the events following Asgard’s destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

AO3 Link

The Soundtrack So Far

Warnings: drug/alcohol mention

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: Wow, folks, this is a lot. Am I sorry? I should be, but I'm not. Anywho, here is a nice long chapter after a shorter one. To note, there are alcohol/drug mentions here. Tread lightly if you must. I have been waiting for months to write this one, so I hope you all like it. Oh, and also, that Spider-Man trailer?? Heck yeah, folks. I am ready for some pure Peter/MJ goodness. Those two smart cuties are amazing. Not to start discourse, but if Ned and Betty end up an item in the film (which I really hope they do), I hope they're the super affectionate, super cute type that everyone is annoyed at but secretly loves because they're the only good thing in this chaotic world.

Masterlist

----------

Taking a bite of her sandwich, Luna pondered her upcoming statement to Loki. Once done, she spoke.

“We should go out.”

Loki nearly inhaled the bite he had taken. He sipped his tea to clear out his throat. “In what way do you mean?”

“You know, out. To have fun.” Luna could keep up the confidence charade for only so long. She needed a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and fast.

“Any particular reason?”

Luna grinned. “Actually, yes. I had a very productive day at work, and I feel like celebrating. You’re included, of course.”

Loki tapped his fingers against the countertop. He did feel cooped up. Wherever he ended up, it almost didn’t matter at the moment.

“Did you have anywhere in mind?”

Luna fiddled with her thumbnail. “Depends. Are you a ‘bar’ kind of guy?”

Loki smirked. “Where you plan to go, I will follow.”

--------------------

Loki quirked a brow, observing his new surroundings as discreetly as he could. “So this is what passes for a bar on Earth?” He moved out of the way of someone stumbling past him.

“Eh, yeah.” Luna shrugged the opposite way. "Not particularly glamorous, but at least it's in walking distance from home. I'm a lightweight, and I don't want to be behind the wheel. Speaking of which, I strongly suggest a two-drink limit. These things are expensive.” She moved slowly through the small crowd, clutching Loki’s jacket sleeve in fear of losing him. If anyone in the room recognized him, it would be pandemonium before she could say the word.

Luna pulled Loki to the bar and waited for the attention of the barkeep to be turned on them.

“What can I get ya?” He asked once he was close enough.

Luna held up a hand. “A Jack-and-Coke for me, please.” She glanced to her side.

“Martini, dry.” Loki requested, his hands folded atop the counter.

“You sure know your way with drinks,” Luna commented.

“Simple mixtures don’t change much. The names vary, of course, but they’re easy to catch onto.”

Luna giggled. “My goodness, space alcohol? Those drinks must be a trip.” Loki smiled humorously.

“Depends on the system. Though, Asgardian mead is to die for.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Luna posed her question as innocent rhetoric. Loki picked this up and sent her a sly smirk with a twinkle in one eye.

The two stared at the array of bottles lining the back of the bar, each independently trying to read the labels and guess the contents. No sooner did they identify a bottle of vodka, their drinks arrived, Luna’s in a short crystal glass and Loki’s in the signature martini glass. Luna extended thanks to the man and shelled out a few bills, getting only a brief tight-lipped smile from him in return. The bar had grown in volume and capacity, so he was ungratefully looking forward to serving potentially less polite patrons.

Anxious he wouldn’t hear her, Luna leaned in close to her companion. “Come on, let’s go sit at a booth. It’s a little quieter,” she spoke into his ear. He gave her a brief nod and trailed after her in search of an empty, clean place to sit.

A ways away from their previous seats, they spotted one. A tad secluded, but they preferred it so. Luna slid in first, letting Loki sit next to her. He left some room between them, enough for their elbows to jut out a little. Luna swirled the dark liquid and lifted it up, propping her elbow on the table, and angled her body to Loki.

“To Biology,” she began. “For bringing us to where we are today.” Loki grinned and tapped his glass against hers. Together, they took the first sip. Luna grimaced at the burn in the back of her throat, coughing a bit to ease the discomfort. “And speaking of biology, the really cool thing at work. I mean, if you’re interested, I can tell you a bit about it.”

Loki put his glass down, granting her his full attention. “Please, go on.”

Luna sipped her concoction and clear her throat. “Ok, so you know I took a bit of your DNA, right?”

“How could I forget?”

“So I took that and spliced the uniquely alien sequence from your DNA into a nematode.”

“Excuse me, a what?”

“A nematode. It’s a type of roundworm that’s used in lab experiments that need an organism to model procedures on and are determined to not be inhumane.”

“Alright. So you put a piece of me into this little creature?”

“Yes. And you will never guess what it did.” Luna smirked, excited to share her findings with a fellow intellectual.

“Do enlighten me,” Loki mumbled against the rim of his glasses as he took another sip.

Luna, armed with an excited grin making a home on her face, leaned in close and spoke quietly into his ear.

“It made microscopic particles of ice!”

Loki struggled to not do a violent spit-take, opting instead to cough and hit his fist against the table top. Luna covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. She expected a reaction, but not one so humorous.

“What?!” Loki exclaimed once he could form words.

Luna placed a hand on her chest. “That’s what I said!”

“What else did it do?!” She had him now.

“So far, nothing.” She sipped her drink. “It’s growing at a normal rate, so that's the only external factor as of right now. Who knows, maybe its lifespan will be extended. How old are you again?”

Another rhetorical question, so Loki neglected to answer. He let his throat and chest settle after the coughing fit, taking the time to reflect on Luna’s discovery. From what he knew, she still had no idea of his true nature. Why he couldn’t bring himself to confess, he didn’t know. In the beginning, very little about him mattered, but now, the time had passed for such a thing to be mentioned.

She believed him to be Asgardian, and he is. Raised on Asgard in the royal palace, surrounded by its culture and partaking in everything it had to offer every day of his life. It was all he knew. He didn’t ignore his genealogy, but no purpose was served in talking about it now. In the past, he had used it as a weapon, confessing the truth to his enemies to throw them off or make them see him as a traitor to his home. But to somebody kind, someone he was on favorable terms with, it wasn't necessary and most likely never would be.

“So you made a new lifeform,” he stated. Luna nodded her head, shrugging.

“In a way, yeah.” Loki took a side glance down at her, letting his gaze linger as she drank more of her beverage, finishing it in one go.

“Fascinating.” He remarked. Luna responded with a little nod and a smile.

“Mmhmm, yeah. It never gets old, no matter how many times you do it.” She traced her thumb along the geometric designs cut into the glass and bit the inside of her lip, repressing the smile she wore from growing. Loki could have patronized her or made it about himself like so many other people in her life. There was no denying how flattered she felt, but she hoped he couldn’t tell.

Peering inside at the stray drops of dark liquid, a hankering for another crept its way into Luna’s brain. Patting Loki’s shoulder, she rose slightly from her seat and brandished the empty glass.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get a refill. Be back in a bit.” He nodded and took a sip from his glass. He was smart, taking his time and savoring the drink. Luna, on the other hand, was eager. A fault of her own making.

The bar was filling up, but space remained open for her to wait for the barkeep. Luna went back-and-forth between looking at the array of bottles and art and tapping on her glass. Not five minutes went by before she felt a presence settle in beside her. From the corner of her eye, she could see it wasn't Loki or anyone else she recognized. Maybe if she pretended no one was there, they would leave her alone.

“Hi. What’s your name?” Spoke the individual next to her. He had his head turned towards her, giving her his undivided attention. So much for pretending.

“Holly,” Luna answered. There was no way in the world she would give a stranger her real name, no matter how common it was.

“Holly. Very nice. I’m Jacob. Since you’re here by yourself, let me get you a drink.” Jacob leaned against the bar much too close to her for comfort.

“Thank you, but I’m here with someone.” She was tempted to look around for her someone, but her body wouldn’t listen. Every nerve in was on high alert, ready to run if need be.

“Well, I don’t see him.” Bold of him to assume she was with a man, but nonetheless, she wished he would do one of his appearing acts and flash a trademark menacing stare.

“He’s at a booth.” Luna relaxed a little, safe within the truth.

“Then why are you at the bar and not with him?” Jacob would not give it a rest. Typical.

“Just getting a refill.” Luna lifted her empty glass. Perhaps he would leave now he knew she had plans.

Jacob put on a smug smile like he knew a secret she didn’t. “Allow me to buy you a drink. Maybe try something different.” He apparently never heard of the word ‘no’ before in his life.

“Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline.”

“Oh come on, you don’t have to be shy. We’re nice,” spoke a new voice to the other side of her.

“Huh?” Luna looked at the newcomer full-on. His audacity baffled her.

“Yeah, we’re nice. No need to be a prude. Just let loose with some new friends, ok?” Luna wanted to scream, but her voice refused to cooperate. She was cornered. They had her trapped, and they knew it.

She managed to squeeze out a little “uh-huh.” For the meantime, it was safer for her to go along with them than to fight.

The second man placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed a little. “That’s my girl.”

The barkeep, making his rounds, came close enough for Jacob to yell out. “Uh, three of whatever she was having.”

Luna was close to breaking out in a cold sweat. There was a reason she rarely went out by herself, and this was it. Staring down at the counter, she prayed to every god and spirit she could think of for someone to come and help. Lucky for her, there was one not too far away.

--------------------

Loki had waited five minutes too long, and now, he was beyond impatient. He had taken his time on his drink, intent on only having one glass and finishing it with Luna by his side so they could leave. On his list of quality bars he’d visited throughout his life, the one they were in ranked quite low. He drummed his fingers on the table, counting down precisely ten seconds until he got up and searched for his roommate.

The ten seconds passed him by and up he went, looking around for Luna. Through Loki’s upset at being left for longer than anticipated, a shred of fear and anxiety shone. Had she purposefully left him? Had she grown tired and abandoned him? If he were honest, he would become tired of himself as well. But he didn’t like being alone, especially in a place such as this one.

The bar he had picked up his drink was noticeably more crowded, but he knew what to look for. It didn’t take him long. He could recognize Luna’s fluffy black head of hair anywhere. However, he did not recognize the two additional figures on either side of her.

Loki was a bit put off. Luna never told him about having friends outside of her workplace. She said she had no one and he believed her. Had she tricked the trickster? Impressive, if she had, but this wasn’t the case. Whenever one of them leaned in too close, she leaned away. Her arms were drawn close to her body, and her shoulders almost touched her ears. Loki was not only good at reading books, but also body language. Luna was frightened and stressed, and these individuals were the furthest things from friends.

Had he his magic, he would have transformed the two into headless chickens, making them run in circles around each other as he escorted Luna to an area out of the public eye. But he had no magic. No special illusionary powers. Only his mind and his hands, and he could do wonders with both.

Loki pondered on how to intervene. He had a flair for the dramatic, but he could be discreet when the moment called for it. As the duo chatted Luna back and forth, Loki spied the one to her right drop something into her drink while the other held her attention. An odd thing, he wondered, but the look on the man’s face was not so strange to him. It was one of dastardly mischief and utmost of no-good, almost evil in nature. He had to act, plan or no plan.

Downing the rest of his martini and placing the glass on a nearby table, Loki adjusted his glasses and strut over to the undelightful trio.

“Darling, there you are,” Loki greeted, turning on the charm. Luna did nothing to hide the relief she felt, letting it flood her face as she looked at him. She turned her whole body towards him, leaning her left arm on the counter.

Luna placed a gentle hand on Loki’s shoulder and slid it down his upper arm. Through his jacket, he could feel her trembling. “Oh, this is my date. You know, the one I was telling you about.”

Loki moved slowly behind her, blocking her from the man on her left with his body. “Boasting about me to your new friends?” He put his hand on her left shoulder and slid it all the way down until it reached and enveloped hers. “I’m flattered.”

“You know I can never shut up about you.” Luna reached her right hand back and touched his cheek. The simple action set the two men a little on edge.

“I know all too well,” Loki said, sounding as fond as he could. “But please, what of all of you?” He questioned the duo, putting them on the spot. He took pleasure in their unease.

“Uh, you know, we’re just here after work, getting drinks,” Jacob stammered out and cleared his throat.

Loki smiled, feigning ignorance. “Celebrating? We are too.” He placed his empty hand on Luna’s other shoulder, further pressing her back to his chest.

“Yup. Big promotion at the office,” she falsely bolstered. Loki tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“As intelligent as she is beautiful if I do say so myself.” With his hand still by her head, he cupped it around her ear and whispered into it. “Act like I said something lewd.”

Continuing their little performance, Luna let out a loud gasp and gave him a soft swat. “You animal, we’re in public!”

Loki placed a hand on her waist and tightened his grip. “Then let’s go somewhere more private.” The discomfort the two men felt grew too much to bear, and they averted their gaze to the floor. Loki saw his chance and lifted his left hand off of Luna’s, grabbing the untainted glass.

Luna straightened her posture, having had enough public attention. “Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. You guys have a great rest of your night!” Loki stepped back from her and helped her down from the chair, showing her the glass he had so she wouldn’t take another. Keeping a hold on her hand, he led her away from the bar. “Thanks. I thought they were never going to shut up,” she said, deeply grateful for his intervention. Loki flashed a broad grin and veered sharply to the right, situating them at another booth occupied by two other people. “Wait, I thought we were leaving.”

Loki sat down. “And miss the show? I think not." He gestured to the spot beside him, and Luna took it.

“What show?” She took the glass from him. “Loki, you’re doing that face.”

“What face?” He asked innocently.

“The I’m-up-to-no-good face. What did you do?”

He leaned close, not taking his eye off of the two men they recently left. “I spotted one of them slipping something into your drink.”

“Ah!” Luna yelped and pushed the glass away from her.

Loki chuckled. “No, not that one.” He slid the glass back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That one.” He pointed to the one still sitting on the counter. “I switched the glasses while their attention was elsewhere. Now, let’s see what his concoction does.”

Loki listened in carefully to the duo. They seemed to be in a quarrel, and it was too tempting not to eavesdrop.

“Idiot!” Jacob hit his hand against the table. “She really was with someone! And that was my only packet!” He picks up the glass closest to him and drinks it down in one go. A sinister smile graced Loki’s facade. Everything was going as smoothly as he could hope.

“You know how girls like that are,” Jacob’s nameless friend retorted. “They always lie. How was I supposed to know?” Loki’s grin faltered. What was so wrong with Luna they felt the need to slander her? They knew nothing about her.

Loki’s iron gaze was diverted as he felt Luna’s smaller hand press against his collar. “What are they saying? I know you’re listening in,” she spoke strongly into his ear. How intuitive.

He turned his head closer to her. “Things imbeciles say,” he replied. She didn’t need to know.

Jacob scoffed. “Whatever, man.” He held the now-empty glass in front of his face. “God, I forgot how much I hate Jack and Coke. Could I get a beer?” He called out to the barkeeper.

His beverage of choice now in hand, he drank it leisurely, chatting up any girl who wandered near him. No luck with any of them. They were spared from his advances by the friends at their sides.

Loki kept Luna close to him, his grasp on her unwavering. He did not want a repeat of their incident, especially not as his hastily-cobbled-together plan was slowly running its course to the end. Any glance from a stranger would reveal quite a sight: a man possessing a terrifying aura with his arm tight around a woman his complete opposite, both comfortable in each other, her entirely off-limits for any outside interaction.

Jacob started swaying once he had finished his beer. His friend caught his arm, playfully reprimanding him for not being able to hold his alcohol like he used to. Jacob waved his hand, letting out a breathy laugh as he sat down in a bar chair. The dizziness wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he blinked and shook his head. He gripped the table edge and groaned softly. Five minutes pass him by, and he feels worse. As he pushes himself up, telling his buddy, he'll use the restroom real quick, but he can barely finish his sentence before he collapses to the floor.

Loki cranes his neck, trying to get one more look at his vanquished foe. “So that’s what his little drug does,” he mutters and inwardly sneers. A cruel trick to play on someone currently on the right side of a trickster god.

Luna felt bittersweet nausea crawl up her throat. She looked down at the untouched drink by her hand. If it hadn't have been for Loki, it would have been her passed out on the floor and not the sham of a human calling himself a man. Though, through the sick feeling in her gut, she felt satisfied. He got a literal taste of his own medicine. She held no sympathy for him. Only gratitude for the individual at her side and a burning desire to go home.

She lay a hand over Loki’s. “Come on, let’s go." Luna got up, and Loki followed, hand-in-hand as they were meant to be. She took the drink with her, set on tossing it out elsewhere. Loki took one more look at the small crowd forming around the downed man, trying to get him to his feet. He smirked, feeling proud of the success of his plan.

No sooner were they a few yards from a door did a loud, slurred voice call out through the crowd.

“Hey, you! Tall guy! Yeah, you!”

Luna's blood froze, and her hand began to shake again. Loki took it upon himself to glance behind him. A shorter, inebriated young man stood before him with another person behind him, holding onto his arm.

“May I help you?” Loki spoke calmly.

“You think you can fool people, but you can’t fool me, guy! No, you can’t fool me.” The man shoved an accusatory finger at him.

“You must be mistaken. I am doing nothing of the sort.”

“I have no time for your games, dude. I know who you are.”

Loki snickered. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“No, no, I know you. You’re the bastard that destroyed New York. You’re Loki!” The young man was close to shouting, his friend tugging on his arm with a little more force. Loki tightened his grip on Luna’s hand.

“What? No, he’s not,” Luna interjected, squeezing Loki’s hand back.

“Don’t tell me what I know, woman!” He jabbed at Luna. She was taken aback, a bit confused by his logic. He looked pointedly back to Loki. “You took everything from me, and now I’m gonna get payback.”

Loki leaned down and scowled. “And what, pray tell, would you take from a broken man with nothing?”

More people were looking on to the commotion, inquisitive and excited at the possibility of a bar fight. Nothing of the sort could happen.

Luna stepped in closer to Loki, putting a hand between him and the drunk stranger. “Now, now, let’s break it up. It’s too late in the afternoon for us to lose our heads.” She chuckled dryly, trying to put them at ease. Loki leaned back and stood at his full height, the glower he sported not once refraining.

Picking a spot on the far wall, Luna stared at it in surprise and let out a loud gasp. “What the hell is that?!” At her exclaim, the man and his friend both looked back, seeing nothing in particular. In a flash, Luna splashes her drink at the man’s face and bolts for the door, tugging Loki behind her. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

The pair ran out the door, entirely neglecting to check if they were being followed. The cold wind bit at the thin skin on their faces, but neither felt it. Neither of them cared as adrenaline flushed through their veins. Loki loved the chase, however imaginary it may be at the moment. For Luna, it was an astounding amount of excitement in a short amount of time.

Out of breath and jittery was how she felt upon reaching her apartment building, bursting through the door of her home and slamming it shut. Running as exercise was one thing, dashing down the street and holding somebody’s hand was another. Having no more strength, she resigned to lying on the floor. Loki followed suit as their hands were still intertwined. Both felt too buzzed to bother.

Taking calculated deep breaths, Luna turned her head and looked at Loki. His close proximity made it easy for her to admire his appearance. His cheeks were a bit flushed, and his hair was wind-blown and scattered. He almost looked frazzled. An amusing contrast to his usual calm and collected demeanor. The god of mischief and chaos, flat on his back, fresh from leaving a place where he had caused, of course, a little mischief and mayhem. And he had almost been caught. Luna couldn’t help but laugh.

Loki heard the growing giggles and turned to Luna, puzzled. His bemused expression made her laugh harder, and she covered her face with her free hand. He resided to joining in her jovial attitude, her laughter quickly becoming contagious. Laughing felt good. He hadn’t done it in a while. And seeing her smile the way she did felt even better.

--------------------

Refreshed from a shower, Luna emerged from the bathroom, clad in clean sleep clothes. She brushed stray strands of damp hair away from her eyes and squinted. Being nearsighted was a drag, but at least she was sober. Striding into the living room, she slipped her glasses back on and got some water from the kitchen. Walking back out, she greeted Loki with a passing smile, set on retiring to her room. But, short of disappearing through her door, she stopped.

“Why did you help me?” She asked, leaning one shoulder against the edge of the doorway. Loki looked up from whatever program he was watching.

He was at a temporary loss for words. Why did he help her? He could have watched the events unfold and witnessed some form of harm befall her. He’s done it before to other people. He hadn’t the terms to describe it, so he told as much truth as he could.

“Have you forgotten so quickly? I am the god of mischief. I know a bad trick when I see one.” Luna nodded. A good answer. They both thought so.

“Well, I’ll say goodnight now.”

“Oh, yes. Goodnight, Luna.”

She moseyed to her room and shut the door, locking it as she did every night. Away from prying eyes, she let a smile grow wide on her face. Setting her cup down, she lay back on her mattress and bit at her thumbnail. Keeping composure was hard. She shouldn't feel elated, but she did. Loki had helped her out of a dangerous situation when he didn't have to. She knew he had fun doing it, and his enjoyment of the matter was the primary driver, but it made her feel good.

Still awake on the couch, Loki rested his chin in the palm of his hand, the program he had on no longer held his interest. His mind took him back to the bar. He had fun playing a trick on an unwitting human. It was his specialty, a favorite pastime of his spanning most of his life. He was used to it. The visceral reaction to seeing Luna is distress, however, was foreign. He was back in dangerous, uncharted territory. Was he getting attached? Or was he changed, as his brother encouraged him to be? Could it be both? Possibly. And saying her name out loud. The first time he had done so. Beneath his hand, he mumbled it again. She had a good name, and he liked saying it.

----------

Tags:  @the-doctor-9-10 @pinkieperil @sherlockfan4life

[kirilisms]

Not sure if you’re still accepting Drabble prompts but Therius with the prompt of “Is that my shirt?”. Lol it’s been on my mind lately.

I would like to apologize in advance for how off-prompt I went. I know the prompt itself was vague, but it always brings to mind fluffy boyfriend shirt scenarios and this.....is almost the exact opposite of that.

(It’s also a little bit over 2,500 words, so I think I got a little too.......excited over this particular scene.)

Either way, I’m super sorry, I had meant to get it out by Thursday but here we are on Saturday and I’m just now sending this out. I hope it’s still okay!

PSA: Formatting goes away when I copy-paste from Google Drive, apparently; this’ll be up on AO3 in a handful of minutes, too, if you want it with the italics intact.

Cyrus has never seen his lover shirtless. That may seem odd for some, since intimacy plays a large role in most relationships, but it's a level of comfort that Therion isn't at, and Cyrus doesn't want to push him.

It is ridiculous, however, when Cyrus returns to the inn one day after helping Ophilia with a request, turns the doorknob to their shared room, hears a loud crashing noise followed by a distinctly Therion-esque curse, and walks into the room in time to see the thief leaving casually against the wall, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and......

Wait.

“Therion, is that my shirt?”

He even has the audacity to look mildly surprised upon glancing up at Cyrus. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there.” Therion looks down at the shirt he's wearing - long sleeved, too big for his small frame, yes it’s most definitely Cyrus’s - before replying. “Before I stole it? Possibly. It’s mine now, though.”

“I should have known you would say something of the sort.” He’s well aware of Therion’s ability to dodge questions, and it seems like the thief just isn’t going to let up. Instead of pushing the subject, however, he simply moves further into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t fail to notice the way Therion moves away from him ever so slightly, but tries not to think on it too much. Instead, he turns his attention to what looks like a splotch of dampness on the cloth covering Therion’s side, turning the usually pristine white fabric a faint green. His first assumption is a salve of some sort, which is corroborated by the small tub of pale green cream sitting on the bedside drawer. “Did you get injured?” He’s not particularly worried at that moment; yes, seeing his boyfriend hurt isn’t high on his list of welcome sights, but Therion can take care of himself, and seeing as he’s safe now, Cyrus can only do so much to fret over what was apparently already taken care of.

However, Therion shakes his head in response, denying Cyrus’s assumptions. “Nah. It’s just old stuff. Alfyn usually......” He trails off, and shakes his head again. “Never mind.”

It’s suspicious enough that Therion is so talkative, but even more so that he stops himself, and Cyrus frowns. “If something is the matter, then perhaps I can be of assistance?” He reaches out to at least place a hand on Therion’s waist, but stops, shocked when Therion pulls away even further.

“I’m fine.” His hands are at his sides, agitatedly resisting from curling into fists, and he glances away from Cyrus. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Cyrus can't help the confusion that laces his voice; once more, he's dodging a question, but it’s one that he already had half a mind to answer. As Therion moves to brush past him, Cyrus grabs his wrist, forcing Therion to stop. “What is possibly so important that Alfyn is allowed access but I....”

His eyes flicker between the tub of cream, the spot on his shirt and Therion’s face, and the question trails off. Therion looks to the side, refusing to answer what Cyrus has already pieced together by himself. “Do you get it now?”

He does, but it still doesn’t sit well with him. There's a lack of trust that Cyrus doesn't want to question, but being inquisitive is in his nature, doubly so whenever his boyfriend is concerned. It doesn't help that a bubble of jealousy had popped somewhere close to his heart when Therion had mentioned the apothecary. “Why?”

“Why what?” Asked casually, but with a bit of an edge; he’s back to being defensive, and it hurts, more than Therion may realize. It’s a habit that Therion has worked on, and while not perfect, Cyrus knows he’s at least trying to be more open, especially with the man he’s in a relationship with. But hearing him close up again....Cyrus has to wonder if there will ever be a day where he doesn’t have to push to be the support that Therion knows he needs.

“Why are you hiding from me?” Because that's what Therion is doing, and they both know it. It isn't just something being swept under the rug, it's as though he's retreating back into the shell that has served more as his prison than his home.

Therion is still as stubborn as ever. “And so what if I'm hiding? News flash, I’m a thief. That's what thieves do.” It’s not an answer that Cyrus wants. It’s dismissive, as if Therion is pinning the blame on some immutable property that doesn’t exist.

“It is your choice to hide.” He tries to keep the bite out of his voice, but he can't help it if a small bit leaks through. He pulls Therion closer, noting how Therion moves willingly, even if still hesitantly. It's a battle the thief is losing, maybe even one he doesn't want to fight as he turns to face Cyrus. Still, he doesn't look directly at him, instead opting to stare at the door.

Cyrus doesn't say anything, and for a long while Therion doesn't either, trying to maintain a stalemate that he knows he'll eventually lose. If Cyrus is one thing, it's too persistent for his own good. “I didn't want you seeing it,” Therion finally relents, still refusing to look at him. “Still don't.”

Cyrus knows he has a choice. He can ask why, again, and get either a half-hearted response or a sarcastic retort back. Or he can drop it, apologize and leave with a heavy reminder that they'll inevitably have to have to this exact same conversation again.

He's about to say sorry when lithe hands move down to lift up the ends of his shirt- but not the shirt that he's wearing. “Therion,” Cyrus begins, but he's stopped by an intense look. He can't describe it as mad, or even upset, but the intensity is still equal, and it makes him pause.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it.” Therion poses it more as a statement than a question, and gives Cyrus no room to reply. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not. But you.....deserve. To know.” The way Therion struggles to admit it would be endearing under any other context, but as it is Cyrus just nods slowly. He’s already pushed Therion far more than he usually does, but as long as it’s of the thief’s own accord, he won’t stop the rolling stone that he’s already caused.

Therion slowly lifts up the shirt covering everything he wants to hide before discarding it on the bed and looking away, and Cyrus understands completely Therion’s hesitation from before. It would be a lie if Cyrus says that they're not ugly, but his distaste doesn’t come from their appearance; instead, they’re reminders of ugly actions against the thief. Slashes of varying sizes and depths litter his chest and stomach, while more prominent - and deeper - scars line the right side of his body. The single most painful looking scar looks like nothing but a large divot in his right side, closed up but still an obvious reminder of some type of puncture. Of all of the wounds, it’s the only one slathered in green cream, and Cyrus assumes it to be the most painful. He doesn't even want to begin questioning where they all came from, but considering Therion’s history.....he can hazard a guess. “They're not exactly beauty marks,” Therion grouses softly to break the silence, but despite the casual attitude, the way he refuses to look at Cyrus betrays exactly how uncomfortable he still is.

His exact choice in words, however, is what surprises Cyrus the most. “Is that what this is about?” He's almost offended at the insinuation; he prefers to believe that he doesn't come off as shallow as Therion assumes, if his fears of rejection are based purely on his physical appearance. “By the gods, Therion, I'm more worried about your wellbeing than anything else.” He traces his fingers over the lesser wounds, and while Therion lets out a shuddering breath, he doesn’t stop Cyrus. “I would never think less of you because of these.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Therion retorts immediately, as if it’s something he’s been holding back for a while. Maybe it is, and maybe Cyrus is still too dense to realize it. It’s more than Therion has expressed before, at the very least, and he can’t help but let a bit of his shock leak onto his face as Therion continues. “You’re flawless,” he says bluntly, and Cyrus knows it’s not meant as a compliment. “Smart, attractive, basically nobility....and if you haven’t noticed, people like you are usually targets, not friends.” And much less lovers, the sentiment goes unspoken but not unheard. “Can you blame me for-”

“Yes, I can.” Therion looks at him in surprise, the first time since revealing his scars that he's even turned to face Cyrus; he’s not one to interrupt others before they finish their thoughts, the result of being a professor for so long, but Cyrus doesn’t want him to finish that thought. It can only lead to nowhere good. “You’ve known me for gods know how long now, and you still have the gall to make these baseless accusations?” Therion says nothing in response, most likely taken aback by the outburst even if the reaction doesn't show on his neutral expression.

Cyrus, on the other hand, is clearly agitated, but he's still of sound mind. Realizing that getting mad would be counterproductive, he ignores every feeling in his gut telling him to argue more and instead grabs the cream off of the table, eyeing the scars that haven't yet been covered. “Show me what to do.”

Therion doesn't react immediately, but he eventually relents, taking the cream and rubbing it into one of the deeper scars until it fades into his skin. Cyrus follows suit, gently massaging the ointment into Therion's skin while avoiding the largest wound in fear of irritating the skin around it. He works in silence for a moment, trying to focus instead on the task at hand, before finally speaking again. He doesn’t address the previous topic, but whether it's out of courtesy or fear, even he can't tell. “Do they hurt often?”

“Not really.” Therion's muscles relax under every touch, stress dropping out with every application of the salve, and so Cyrus continues as he plays closer attention to Therion's words. “This is usually just a routine, but they actually did hurt today. Last time was after the fight with that ex-boss of yours.”

Headmaster Yvon; Cyrus remembers that as the day right before he had confessed to Therion. The threat of losing not only Therese, his most earnest pupil, but also Therion, the man he loved, had shone a whole new light on exactly how dangerous his situation was, and he had believed it an important decision to make in the heat of the moment. In retrospect, Therion had been groaning in pain, and he had told Cyrus to shut up and tell him tomorrow and no it's not a rejection don't worry just go away damnit, but Cyrus had assumed it had been from his wounds sustained during the attack, not any previous afflictions. “I apologize for not noticing sooner,” he says quietly after turning Therion around to tend to the scars on his back. They're lesser in number, a good indication that he at least knows better than getting ambushed from behind, but they still look like hell, and his fingers trail over them even after applying the ointment as an unspoken regret.

“You weren't supposed to,” is Therion's equally soft reply. There’s still a lingering discomfort at that thought, but Cyrus tries to tamp it down. Therion has already endured so much from him, and Cyrus is selfish for asking for more.

“It’s not like I hate myself for them,” he continues, trying to assuage Cyrus’s worries while still feigning nonchalance, and it’s true as far as Cyrus can see. There’s no self-deprecation when he speaks of his wounds, no malice against him or anything that’s caused the scars. It’s as if they simply exist, and it’s.....comforting, Cyrus supposes, to know that Therion has come to terms with his own past downfalls, even if he still isn’t comfortable with Cyrus seeing the physical reminders. “They’re just.......history, I guess.”

“They are your history,” Cyrus interjects softly, his gaze trailing over each one individually before looking back up at Therion, who still refuses to look him in the eyes. “But everything here is proof that your story has yet to finish. Yes, life might not have been gentle to you thus far, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Therion’s still quiet, and there’s a brief pang of worry in Cyrus’s stomach that he’s said something wrong again, but it disappears when the thief finally replies. “Idiot.” He’s shaking slightly, and Cyrus can feel it under his fingertips, skin brushing softly as Therion’s sides tremble. It’s not a bad tremor, though, if the way his ears turn red are any indication. It's the first blush Cyrus has seen on him since the start of their conversation, and he hopes that it's a sign that he's growing more comfortable after the tension from before. “No wonder people like you. You always say exactly the right things.”

Cyrus wants to laugh, wants to say that it only matters where Therion is involved, but he’s pretty sure that would be playing straight into his hands, and so he just smiles. “Are you feeling better?”

There’s a beat of silence before Therion replies. “Yeah.” It doesn’t sound like a lie, at least, and that gives Cyrus comfort as he reaches over to grab his shirt again and give it to Therion. However, he’s surprised when Therion refuses it, instead choosing to sit next to him on the bed, still shirtless. “It’s still weird, though.”

He takes that as a negative, and frowns, the hand that had moved to wrap around Therion’s shoulder instead resting on the bed. “Apologies. I....it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

Therion looks a bit surprised at the admission, before hiding his reaction under a smirk. It's a soft one, though, amused and disbelieving at the same time. “Intention or not, it’ll take a lot more than that to hurt me, Cyrus. I just need some time to get used to it.” As if proving his point, he reaches over to grab his arm and wrap it around himself, trying to relax at the touch.

It’s the most affection Cyrus has ever received from Therion, and he’s almost at a loss from the whiplash. From feeling untrustable mere moments ago to having Therion initiate contact he had been so adamant about avoiding, he doesn’t know whether or not the thief realizes just how nerve-wracking it is, not just for himself but for Cyrus as well. But it’s all right, he reasons as he holds Therion, fingertips grazing gently across tan skin and savoring the sensation as Therion shivers at the touch. After all, that’s all he’s wanted this whole time, for Therion to be comfortable around him, to not feel the need - or even the desire - to hide things from him. And if it takes more time, time spent together like this? Well.

“You have all the time in the world.”

[silvokrent]

Gears in Motion - 3

What better way to start off the orn?

At precisely 7:00 AM Prowl stood in front of the door to his office.

Even though his shift didn't start for another hour the tactician had long ago fallen into the habit of showing up early for his work. Today, an additional thirty minutes earlier than usual, given the mountain of datapads he knew awaited him on the other side of the door. Knowing how long it would take to go through all of the files gathered on his desk, he'd opted to forgo his morning Energon and proceed directly.

Didn’t mean he was necessarily looking forward to the prospect.

Cycling a vent of air, Prowl keyed open his door and stepped inside.

And did a double-take.

He was pretty sure that there had been at least several piles in his inbox and on his desk when he'd locked up for the night, with several more stacked on his filing cabinet.

So why, then, were half of them missing?

A prank was the first thought that occurred to him, and he had to physically bite back the desire to seethe. As if planning that game wasn't bad enough, someone had the audacity to distract him by making him hunt down his errant reports?

Snorting, Prowl strode around his desk and picked up one of the few remaining datapads―a mission statement which required a second signature―and gave it a precursory glance, worried he might find something tampered with. Instead, much to his amazement, the screen lit up directly at the bottom of the page, where Optimus Prime's elegant scrawl could be clearly seen underneath his own.

With a sudden inkling in the back of his mind, Prowl proceeded to look over the next datapad―and sure enough, this one (an inventory notice for the armories) was signed off on too. Every report that had required dual authorization from at least two officers had been given the go-ahead.

Suddenly, several hours' worth of overview and peer corrections had been done.

To top it all off they had been arranged on his desk and/or filed alphabetically by department.

For a long, bewildered moment the tactician could do little more than stare at the unexpected charity.

Again Prowl looked over Optimus' signature. The logical conclusion was that at some point in the night the CO had come in and proceeded to go over the paperwork, filling in what needed filling in, before taking the datapads specifically for his briefings back to his own office.

A bemused smile tugged at the corner of his lips, an honest, unrestrained gesture. Of course the Prime would have thought nothing of it, even with his own duties to attend to. That was just who he was.

The Second stood from his chair and exited the room, walking down several doors and poking his head inside the familiar office.

"Prime, sir?"

His leader looked up from whatever he'd been working on. He blinked in mild surprise before offering a welcoming nod. "Yes, Prowl?"

The tactician straightened. "I wished to thank you for assisting me in my work the night before, despite the inconvenience to yourself. It gives me the opportunity to see to my other duties." Had Prowl not turned to leave at that very moment, he might’ve seen the shock on the CO's face. "That is all, sir. Thank you."

Not willing to overstay his welcome, Prowl continued on his way.

"But…," Optimus said to the empty room. "But I didn't do any of that."

He got the call on the fourth orn following the Crystal City Massacre.

In direct relation to the attack work had steadily been piling up. Reports were constantly coming in as the departments sent intel back and forth, in effort to compile what little they had. All of it was underscored with increased urgency and an emphasis on fortifying outposts. There was an understandable worry over whether or not Autobot bases would be targeted next, none more vocal about it than Red Alert. Despite the numerous officer meetings that had been held since their return, they had absolutely no clue what the Decepticons were trying to achieve through Crystal City's destruction. Theories were volleyed back and forth, with a few halfhearted proposals proffered up to fill in the gaps. At the end of the orn the only thing Prowl had to show for it all was a sizable pile of datapads and a growing headache that had acutely placed itself directly behind his right optic.

He was halfway through authorizing ammunition transport to Simfur when an incoming communiqué interrupted him. Pausing mid key-stroke, the tactician calmly hailed the caller over his radio. This is Autobot Prowl.

It's Ratchet. The exhaustion in the medic's tone was nearly palpable. His voice sounded coarse and rough, like someone had taken a sandblaster to it. Requesting your presence in the medbay immediately.

The unexpected summons was enough to halt Prowl's typing. Narrowing his optics slightly, the tactician stared into his monitor. I was unaware that I was on the roster for a medical checkup. Did you schedule me for a malware upgrade?

No, although I should probably do that sooner than later. The survivor from Crystal City was just brought online. He wants to speak to you.

That was why he was being deterred from his work? A brief flicker of annoyance passed through him. Nonetheless he politely demurred, While I'm pleased to hear the good news, surely he would want to speak to Optimus? After all, the Prime heads our faction and could explain his situation better—

No. He asked specifically for you. First thing he did once he stopped panicking and was lucid again was ask to speak with the mech who saved him. According to First Aid, you were the one who found him. Given what the kid's been through I'm not about to deny him slag. Get down here now. That's an order.

With that said Ratchet cut the line.

Sighing faintly, the SIC signed off and pushed away from his desk. The trek through the base down to the medbay was an uneventful affair. Yet as he neared the CMO's domain he found himself taken by a sudden apprehension. One of the many qualities which he thoroughly lacked was adaptability, hence his overcompensated planning skills. In any given circumstance Prowl functioned best when held all the cards in his hand, had adequate time to prepare.

But this?

There had been no warnings, no heads-up. Just an order to haul aft downstairs and talk with the sole survivor of a genocide. It made him feel unsettled, even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of being thought less of. He didn't know what to say. He had nothing, and had been told nothing. Couldn't Ratchet at least have had the decency to give him some kind of warning, or at least hint as to why the Neutral wanted to speak to him? A roiling churn in his tanks made the tactician feel somewhat sick with apprehension. Ruthlessly he shoved the feeling aside and slid past the crystal doors.

Medbay proper was filled with a half dozen medics scurrying about, either running back and forth with tools or tending to the few patients present. He spotted First Aid and Hoist at a glance, and caught a glimpse of Pīpō heading inside an adjoining storage closet.

A flash of red and white at the corner of his optic had him switching direction toward the ICU. Ratchet was just emerging from one of the private surgical suites when he caught sight of his commander approaching. Lips thinning, he beckoned Prowl over. "Good. You're here. He's through this door." The medic gestured to the room from which he'd emerged. "I don't think I need to tell you he's been through a lot. Just...be gentle with him. Your usual charming self should suffice."

Prowl arched a skeptical brow at that. His expression then schooled itself into its regular calm, serene air. "I will be careful, Ratchet. Nor will I do anything to deliberately upset him. You have my word."

"It's not your word I'm worried about so much as your definition of 'tact,'" snorted Ratchet. "It's not what you say, but how you say it. Keep that in mind."

"I will not overstep my boundaries," Prowl assured. "Although I must admit, I'm pleased to finally hear that you've begun practicing what you preach. Your patients must be doubly ecstatic."

A surprised chuff of laughter left the medic as he lightly flicked Prowl on the chevron. "It keeps them honest, and me sane. No one's complained about my methods yet. And Sideswipe doesn't count, so don't even go there."

Prowl refrained from returning the bout of amusement, although he did briefly incline his head. "I wouldn't have bothered. I'm of the opinion that Sideswipe benefits from your ire, even if he doesn't necessarily retain the lesson from the experience."

"Tell that to him and his slagging brother." It was there, just barely, but the growl held the faintest trace of affection. It vanished before Prowl had the chance to dwell on it, as Ratchet turned that suddenly baleful stare upon him. "Don’t start badgering the kid for information. Whatever he’s going to say, he’ll say. Got it?”

Prowl didn't directly respond, instead choosing to nod in acknowledgement before he stepped inside the ICU. Once the doors hissed shut behind him he turned to face the mech bundled on the berth.

The scorch marks he recalled from when he'd found him had obviously been sanded down. Old, damaged armor had been repaired, with only weld marks showing where gaping wounds had once been. Optics formerly dim with low energy now glowed fantastically bright. The Neutral shifted, and the motion caused his doorwings to fan out behind him.

Correction—doorwing.

Instead of two back-mounted panels there was only one. The damage had obviously been extensive enough to ruin the hinge or the entire wing itself, warranting its removal. Without the second appendage the 'bot looked off-kilter and exposed.

As soon as Prowl had entered the small mech had jerked upright, like someone had come up behind him with an electrical prod.

"Good afternoon." He watched Prowl with wide optics as he dragged a chair over and took a seat a respectable distance from the berth. "My apologies for taking so long to get here. My name is—"

"Prowl," the other mech supplied. He glanced down at the hands folded in his lap. "I remember who you are. You found me."

That caught him slightly off guard. Given how disoriented he'd been when he had discovered him, Prowl doubted how much the young survivor would have retained from the encounter.

"I know this is a superfluous question, but how are you?" There. Nice and simple. A safe place to start.

The gray Neutral looked away. "I'm not really sure how to answer that, since I don't really know what to feel."

Never mind, then.

"Is there..." Prowl cleared his intakes. "Is there something that I may do for you..." There was a question in his voice, an unspoken request for a designation.

"Bluestreak." The Neutral shyly looked his way. "My name is Bluestreak."

"Bluestreak," echoed Prowl as he committed the name to memory. "Is there anything that I may provide you with, or bring you?" With his rank at least he was afforded the luxury and the ability to offer him whatever he wanted, within reason, of course.

White optics abruptly turned back to him. "Everything I want I can't have," he rasped, and the words thundered through Prowl like the pounding of a waterfall. His friends, his coworkers, his exclusives, anyone he'd ever known was dead. That waterfall was frothing with blood.

He berated himself viciously for the thoughtlessness.

Again, white optics turned to stare at him, and for the first time the tactician saw a hollowness, in addition to the physical pain and fear. Ghosts danced behind the lenses, specters sifting in his gaze, all the haunts and horrors as much a part of him as they were the wreckage that lay hundreds of miles away. Looking for all the world like they couldn't wait to claim the last victim.

Vaguely ill, Prowl wondered how long it would take before this one died, too.

Neither spoke for a minute.

"Thank you," Bluestreak blurted out.

"For?"

"For saving me," he said simply.

"You're welcome."

Again, uncomfortable silence, with neither mech willing to look the other in the face.

"If you wish to talk...," Prowl began, clearing his intakes, "if there is anything I can do to help, I am only a comm. line away. Please do not hesitate in calling me, should you require my assistance." He sensed that there truly wasn't much more he could do, and felt a prickle of regret knowing how little he'd done. At least he could leave with the knowledge that he'd offered what he could.

The SIC made to stand from his chair.

"Wait!"

Prowl slowly sat back into the seat, facing him with hands folded in his lap. "What is it?"

Beyond the slither of fear that shone in Bluestreak's expression, there was another emotion. Prowl found that he couldn't put a name to it. "Who did this?"

There was no mistaking what he meant.

"They call themselves the Decepticons." Finally, something that the SIC could give him. Information. Closure, perhaps. "Their leader is a mech who goes by the name Megatron."

"They have red optics," murmured Bluestreak. His empty but not-quite-empty stare bore into his. "Yours are blue."

A rather obvious thing to say, but Prowl resisted the impulse to correct him. "Yes."

After lingering for a moment on some unknown decision, the Neutral lifted his hand. Gray fingertips lightly grazed the dermal metal just below Prowl's cheek, and he resisted the reflex to pull away. Something in the survivor's mind seemed to click at the contact, and his optics widened.

"You're real," he breathed out.

Lacking a proper context for the strange phrasing, Prowl couldn't find anything to say to that.

But on some instinctive level that defied words the pieces were coming together. Like a dreamer sloughing through the wisps and tendrils of dusk looking for the part that wasn't in his head, the touch was breaking through the barriers. Separating where the harsh nightmares ended and the waking world began. At last there was an anchor in the eye of the hurricane. The world that had been spinning so frighteningly fast on its axis had finally, finally, come to a stop.

Of all the things Prowl had expected, the last was seeing his reflection superimposed over a sudden rush of color in the previously white optics. The residual traces of Neutrality faded out in the spirals and glass, replaced with an intense blue.

His hand remained hanging between them.

"Can I join the Autobots?" Bluestreak begged. "Please?"

Against all damnable logic, Prowl couldn't find an explanation for reaching up and resting his hand atop the other 'bot's. "Of course."

If being an Autobot was the farthest thing from being a Decepticon, then Bluestreak gladly made that choice.