#because between coloring and facial features and attitude it never crossed my mind that he could be anything but white.

[wanderingandfound]

I'm still very new to Dragon Age and haven't finished Origins yet but in a very long post about white-washing I saw someone claim that Alistair is a person of color who is white-washed as the games go on and uh? Using stills just from Origins we have:

Alistair:

His half-sister (maternal):

His half-brother (paternal):

My impression is that Alistair is white?

To be clear, I am not invested in Alistair being white, and I'm open to being informed otherwise (I've played only half of one game), but from the little I know I don't have any evidence of him being a character of color.

[matchamorphosis]

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐙 ���𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

・゜ʚɞ ゜・ 𝑎.𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ʚɞ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 ・゜ʚɞ ゜・

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you’ve been testing ari’s patience and it’s up to him to put you straight— even if it’s going to be your first real punishment.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut with plot

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || daddy!ari levinson × little![black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.7K — oof i’m sorry

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, ddlg lifestyle and dynamics, daddy kink, extremely bratty reader, big mean daddy!ari, punishment, cursing, spankings, pussy slapping, some steamy scenes, spilt apple juice, a ruined Care Bear’s coloring page, use of nickname: muffin//muffin cake — MINORS DNI || 18+ INTERACTION ONLY —

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || my head was spiraling out of control and I felt bratty + missed my daddy!ari nonnie so I wrote this :): planning on making much more ddlg scenarios like these because they always seem like such a hit and i have so much fun writing them! anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy this! ♡  

↬ p.s || do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

it all started with a simple question.

the simplest of simple questions you know the right answer to. neverminded the fact that the supreme authority in the house, Ari Levinson, would still call you a big dumb baby if you’d answer correctly.

today was not the best day for you to endure one of your aggressively bratty tantrums he says you’re to old to commit — just as well as it wasn’t the best day for you to exclaim your snappy clever remarks he insisted you’re to little to speak of and understand.

you’re either his big girl or his little girl and no in-between’s.

today ignited something in you, lit a measly match that trailed a kerosene path he didn’t dare think fast enough to put out critically. Ari was too slow to realize the build up and now he’s facing the burning fire that’s practically charring the good nature that was usually your morally-correct actions and behavior.

today you just didn’t feel like being good.

simple as that.  

however no matter what you did you wouldn’t win, not on daddy’s watch.

glossy black Mary Janes kick the air in a fiery frenzy, folded arms shielding your face as you sob into the pink fluffy play rug. it’s laying underneath your arts and crafts table and of course your thrashing petite body that’s spiraling in the tantrum.

muffled curses and melodramatic wails fill the pink playroom and the cause of this brat fit was the man at the opposite end of the table. no more than a foot away from you, thick muscled arms crossed over his navy blue polo chest. tapping his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for your tantrum to end he holds the plastic package of goldfish grahams he took from you.

it wasn’t a good decision to ease your previous brattiness with the brownie baked cookies. of course he couldn’t help but give into your sweet tooth if that meant for you to calm down. although Ari didn’t expect you to finish all the sugary goldfish in your snack bowl in the ten minutes you were out of supervision.

additionally, he didn’t see it coming at all when he left you at that to sip from your juice box and snack on the chocolate goldfish while you colored perfectly in between the bolded lines. all so he could finish some paperwork but not until finding you ten minutes after with the whole package at the account of checking in on you.

the sight of your hand in the bag greedily grabbing the graham goldfishes and shoving them into your mouth was a damn sight to see. even when he secretly hid it in the highest and secret, kept out of eyesight corner of the pantry closet— you somehow retrieved it and smuggled it back in your playroom.

the confiscated, nearly-empty package is now in his fisted grasp. Ari cannot believe the shade of anger and disappointment breaking unknown levels of his calming limits.

words cannot describe the irritation inflaming his mind, you’re suppose to be his good little girl.

his precious little starlet who behaved and acted accordingly but instead he has a brat screaming ass up and face down into the play rug. crying her bug head off because he took your spoiling sugary snack from you that he shouldn’t have given in the first place.

rolling his eyes at the scene in front of him, his blue hues lock on your baby lotion thighs that your tiny purple argyll mini skirt reveals. cotton thigh highs adorned with purple bows at the frilly cuffs that match the small silk ones braided into your hair he helped design, capture his eye.

ever since this morning your attitude has been off and not only did it confuse Ari but it confused you to at first. until you slowly grew into liking the devious part that was hidden inside you for so long that maliciously appeared when you woke up on the naughty side of the bed.

from Ari getting you out of bed, giving you your routine bath, arranging your outfit and getting your hair ready. as well as eating breakfast, you pouted and grumbled the whole time but Ari was still so soft and patient with you. it made your heart gooey but you were craving his mean side.

so after you two got ready and started your separate chores and hobbies for the day, you were slowly working your way to anticipating Ari get mean with you. just like your magic always worked wonders, he did get mean. scolded at you when you were in the middle of reading your book, raising his voice just a slight at you that you did all your chores wrong and haven’t even completed some.

it was scary just for minute that he even had a hint of anger in his voice but damn did you enjoy the wetness in your panties at the same time when he ordered you to do them fully and correctly. until finally what he believed would be the end to your brattiness, nap time arrived.

thankful for it as he started lunch, thinking that when you’d wake up he would recognize his well mannered princess but what he didn’t expect would happen afterwards as he woke you up that you were more crankier than before.��

the two of you had your lunch of toasty grilled cheese, thick tomato soup and chicken salad. you were still moody and cranky when you sat down in your pastel chair with the wooden pink painted words of princess displayed on the crest rail.

of course he looked at you as if a mountain troll was stealing his princesses throne because he didn’t recognize the pout pulling at your full glossy lips. the scrunched brows making a dramatic impression that married well with your anger inflicted face that spoiled your pretty facial features.

as much as your daddy thought you looked adorable being cranky, every little thing seemed to tick you off. you had a problem with everything that could either easily be fixed or was out of your hands.

the grilled cheese wasn’t cut in the shapes that you wanted, he placed the cheesy slices in your wrong disney princess plate, you didn’t want to eat your greeny nasty salad, you wanted another cup of sprite. which you were neglected of because ari had a limit set for you from not drinking anything more than the amount your tiny hello kitty cup provided.

and most importantly you wanted to have Lulubelle, your tangerine teddy bear, to eat at the table.

of course he fixed his first two mistakes but you knew better than to argue against and ask for anything that went against the rules. instead of putting you to a corner, he set up another option.

encouraged you to eat your greens to set a good example for your stuffies. replaced the second cup of sprite you wanted with a juice box of your choice and placed Lulubelle on one of the living room couches telling you she will wait for you to finish eating and washing your hands.

but even with those resolutions there were major bumps and outbursts.

you played with your food by smacking your spoon against the soups surface which caused little splatters of red dots across the glossy cherry oak table and grumbled under your breath as you picked off the crust of the grilled sandwich.

flicking it with the swiftness of your two inch acrylics, the pieces landing in Ari’s soup or hair.

it was as if you were set on getting on his nerves because damn right you were.

rolled your eyes and silently mimicked his mouth when he ordered you to stop. deviously giggled when the funny vein on his forehead that only bulged out when he was really mad at you was potentially going to pop out. 

a smirk playing your lips when the corner of your eye caught every clench of his fist when you would hit the table leg obnoxiously as you slurped your soup. misbehaved yet did what he ordered you to when you believed his attention was back on his own food.

it was a very long lunch and as much as he thought he was going to snap at you and put you in your time out chair that was rarely used because you never ever acted like this, he left you to wash up as he cleaned up after lunch.

you would normally help him with cleaning the table or giving him any dirty dishes for him to clean when he was busy at the faucet. but he allowed you to run off into the living room and play with your stuffed bear in whatever todays make belief adventure the two of you were on.

cleaning up was easy since he only had to clean the bowls, plates and utensils the two of you ate with but it wasn’t until he started to clean the table did he notice all the soup drops against the cleaning plastic as well as the chunky pieces of lettuce, tomato, and bread crusts under the table around your chair. 

Ari was close to exploding, because he taught you better then to throw food and waste it but he gave himself a breath, counted to ten and made sure to make a mental note tonight. after your special cartoon marathon, he’d have a very important talk to you about food waste and how wrong it was.

so after cleaning up and warning the two of you were going to have a talk tonight, he settled you in your playroom since it was a room away from his office. Ari never felt comfortable or secure with leaving you all alone downstairs without someone watching over you. 

adjusting and nestling the baby monitor on one of your teddy bears heart strap, he placed the stuffed bear near your arts and crafts table. even if you were glaring at him for doing so, you weren’t a baby. although as usual, your daddy shushed at you and placed a kiss at your temple that made you silent as you pulled out your coloring books from your big wooden weaved basket with a grumble.

Ari knew you despised the baby monitor but he made it a priority to place it near you at all times when he wasn’t near. even if the meeting was only going to be around fifteen minutes, your daddy wasn’t going to narrow down the possibilities of something going wrong. 

after settling your desired snacks when you remind him that it’s snack time, Ari settled your juice box that he already pierced the straw through the tin foiled hole and your brownie goldfish in your hello kitty snack bowl halfway. checked his watch knowing he had to attend the virtual meeting in less than a few minutes.

kneeling down at your level as you munched on the fish shaped cookies and colored in a fluffy cloud a Care Bear was sleeping on. pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your temple, “Daddy is going to be working in his office princess. can you behave like a good girl until daddy’s done with his meeting?”

the smile that was on your face disappeared, you didn’t want daddy to go and leave you alone!

I mean what was more important than sitting and watching you color? have you feed him the chocolatey goldfish and draw pretty sparkly hearts and shooting stars for him?

“Daddy I don’t want you to go! can the work wait?” you whine but Ari shook his head with a sigh, standing up to your dismay. peering down at you as you glare up at him.

“no the work can’t wait, muffin. it’ll only be twenty minutes and after Daddy does the work he’ll be back here. helping you color a page from your coloring book, how does that sound?” the soft lowness of his voice didn’t leave room for you to bite back an aggression but only nod.

“yes Daddy I would really like that.” Ari smiled to himself at that, thinking that your brattiness has finally come to an end as he left your room.

oh how wrong he was when he arrived back once the meeting was over.

Ari literally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar and you didn’t even look ashamed at all. not stuttering trying to explain your faultless contribution to this crime-like action.

to add onto the shock, when he snatched the bag just full of five goldfishes and crumbs did you start to cry and spiral into you tantrum even when he said nothing yet.

now we are here five minutes later.

with Ari looking down at your still continuing tantrum but noticing it’s lessening with your kicks and whines.

the only thing he feels is disappointment.

not only were you ruining your chances of watching the annual cartoon marathon the cable TV’s going to premiere later on tonight— that he allowed you to stay up to after relentless begs and your good behavior from previous weeks before — but you completely spoiled your appetite for dinner.

your favorite meal he made specially to go along with the cartoon marathon but now watching your tantrum become even more relentless Ari is confirming that you most definitely will not participate in it. maybe even cut your day short once you complete your night routine after dinner and make you head straight to bed.

“are you done being a brat now?” Ari, you’re soft daddy bear snapped viciously.

however you’re still letting out whines and sniffs as you reveal your red teary eyes from the carpet. the sight of them makes him want to drop the bag, kneel down and scoop you in his arms. kiss your face and tell you he’s sorry that he took the cookies away from you, but he can’t.

Ari cannot let this tantrum slide and give you what you want no matter how much it hurts his heart he isn’t trying to calm you down himself in the security and warmth of his arms around his little one.

he needs to put his foot down.

and it serves him right, because once latching your eyes on your mean Daddy’s austere blues you grab your white tiger stuffie nearby. covering your tear stricken face within the faux white fur with a gritted and bratty hmph! 

it was infuriating how your Daddy had to take all the things you wanted away from you. obviously you didn’t have a say in anything cause you were suppose to be his good girl but why continue to act good now when you know you’re Daddy is going to ruin the only thing that you’ve been anticipated since the beginning of December?

today approximately around eight o’clock on the dot the big people channel you were forbidden to watch from was going to premiere all your favorite holiday cartoons. The Powerpuff Girls, Scooby Doo, Charlie Brown, Looney Tunes, and the various vintage episodes of nostalgic Mickey Mouse.

if all went wrong as you went down with your ship you could watch some of the holiday issued tapes of Strawberry Shortcake and Winnie the Pooh on your vcr but it wasn’t as often you would have access to the other cartoon specials you enjoyed premiering their limited episodes at the touch of a remote and Ari knows this!

your big mean Daddy knows how much you’ve been looking forward to it but he’s probably going to instead send you off to your secluded bed in the separate room he sends you to when he was to furious to have you sleep with him in your shared big king bed after dinner. 

belly full of your favorite food that’s going to stir badly in your stomach as you shift under your warm covers restless because it wouldn’t be your goddamn bedtime. only having the single company of your golden fairy nighty nightlight and the only stuffie he’d allow you to cuddle for the night.

it makes you want to explode because you know how this is going to end but you’re head is to tired to even say anything in retaliation or beg him not to reconsider.

but maybe… if you think up something quick to throw him off it’ll buy you enough time to behave and show him you could be good. 

even though you screamed all the naughty no-no words Ari would have you over his lap in a second if you even thought of them. throat sore and red eyes stinging from crying so damn much and rubbing your closed eyelid fiercely against the play rug and stuffie.

a plan is concocting in your mind, nothing devious but it will have its dose of your witty pettiness and unholy brattiness.

daddy won’t suspect a thing, you thought as you stopped your sniffs and cries.

wiped your tears with the cashmere sleeve of your cropped lavender cardigan as you got up from your sprawled position. patted your argyle patterned skirt down to smooth out any wrinkles and got back to work on the arts and crafts table.

and your plan is beginning to work because it does take Ari by surprise when you get up from your pathetic little position. the purple argyle skirt now fully covering your bum, he knows you’re ignoring his stern stare when you scoot your knees back to the small crafts table.

continuing to color from your coloring book as if nothing happened.

Ari scoffs to himself, what kind of mind game were you playing on him?

“what do you think you’re doing muffin?” Ari spoke and for once you stare back at him. eyes slightly red as evidence of your crying, they’re calm now as they meet his.

“nothing Daddy, i’m just coloring,” you spoke, the crayon in your hand shading in a midnight sky. Ari continues to stare down until he takes the crayon from you— but what he doesn’t expect is that when he snatches the crayon from you he accidently knocked over your apple juice box.

the mellow yellowish liquid spills onto your crayon box, containing the limited edition colors you prized. soaking your beloved coloring tools with the sticky juice; it made your bottom lip tremble as you quickly grab the slightly soggy box. you let out a whine as you feel tears spring in your eyes.

the unintentional incident and your heartbroken state almost has Ari yet again stumbling to fix what wasn’t really his fault. leaving the room to get paper towels and a cleaning spray.

coming to terms with this, you’re surprised to find the casualty of your crayons diverting the attention away from you and onto something else.

maybe if you kept this up, eight o’clock would come and he’d have nothing else to do then allow you to have your cartoon marathon.

you thought as you tapped a single finger to your peachy cheek in thought.

all you had to do was put him in situations that would conflict him into think it was initially his fault therefore guilting him into giving you what you wanted!

then you’d be set on the living room rug with a plate of your favorite food on your lap. a stuffie at your hip and looking up at the tv as the credits for the first cartoon of the night rolled in.

quickly finding some Lysol wipes and tissues in the playroom you clean up the mess and the cardboard crayon box as Ari’s loud footsteps come closer and closer.

swiftly disposing them in the craft trash basket and settled in your cushion seat before he arrived in the doorway with his arms full of cleaning supplies. when Ari stepped back into the room he was surprised to find you already cleaned up the mess and properly sitting as you continued coloring.

twirling a braided lock of purple silk bowed hair around your finger. figuratively showing how much you were controlling those dominant Daddy instincts of his he wasn’t going to have you get your way.

you still need to come to terms of all the wrongs you committed today and if all goes well he’d decide if you could attend to that cartoon marathon. “muffin?” Ari spoke and on que your head lifts up, your pearly white smile so tender and innocent as if you weren’t messing with mind to get whatever you wanted.

meaning excuse all the trouble you got yourself into.

“yes Daddy?” voice soft and perky as you settle the crayon on the table, he catches you sitting up straighter. elbows resting on the table and arms pressing close to your chest to pronounce your plump cleavage the top three un-buttoned piece of your cardigan displayed.

the delicious sight has him licking his lips, wanting to throw you over his shoulder with the loud and rough slaps to your ass and take you to your room. throwing you on the bed and rip every little piece of clothing off of you. 

—but that’s what you want him to do, you want to have him distracted from the task at hand. especially when the task is putting you in your place and marginalizing your chances of watching the night special of holiday cartoons.

“what do brats get?” that question has you dropping your eyes from his to stare blankly at the coloring book and lined arrange of crayons in front of you.

did you want to answer him correctly or did you not want to answer at all?

the options where bouncing in your head but you didn’t realize Ari’s still waiting for you to answer when you ignored the question. picking up a crayon and colored in a Care Bear as if he didn’t ask you anything at all.

“muffin are you listening to me?” Ari sighs, tone no longer the softness as a few minutes ago and no longer bearing the same patience as before.

it doesn’t match your inattentive focus, you’re still coloring and teasing him. the sleeve of the tight periwinkle cardigan slipping off your shoulder, showing more of your rich skin that Ari wants to kiss and mark with his lips.

shaking his head out of it, telling himself that he was the adult and you were the brat and he was going to— no matter how much you were going to cry — discipline you into obedience and get his well behaved muffin back.

“i’m going to count to three and if-” he’s cut off when you roll your eyes on him, catching his voice in his mouth like a frog in his throat. Ari’s conflicted entirely and pissed entirely because you’ve never rolled your eyes at him, ever.

so as you persisted to ignore Ari, scribbling one of your multi colored crayons, you have a pink one in your hand. shading in a heart and an idea shines like a lightbulb above his head.

without any warning his large hands snatch the coloring book from under your grasp. the pale purple crayon in your small hand that was once shading in Share Bears fur runs along the whole paper. the sudden climax of running colored wax against moving paper, shocking you to a gasp.

an offended wail excludes from your mouth but Ari is too pissed to feel sympathetic. getting up he holds the coloring book he bought for you during the weekend above his head. somewhat enjoying and taking pleasure as you stand up on your tippy toes and jump to retrieve it with fail. 

indeed taking pleasure as he stares down at your full tits bouncing in your comfortable tube top that’s underneath the cardigan. loving your cries and whines as you beg him to give your coloring book back.

eyeing your tiny delicious figure that's far too small to reach the skyscraper height that holds your beloved Care Bears coloring book. it made Ari’s heart melt when you hugged and pressed your kisses all over his bearded face when he gifted you it some day ago but he never thought he’d enjoy taking it away from you.

right now he has to put you in your place and ignore the tightness in his pants to deal with later. “Daddy you ruined my drawing!” your sobs and whimpers proclaim, continuing to jump as your cries became louder and tears become more present.

“you didn’t answer Daddy’s question little one,” he hissed and with that your cries come to an end to just reveal a glare then a smirk.

quitting your attempts of retrieving the coloring book you turn around and walk away. a slight hypnotic flow of your hips and curves making Ari’s eyes train to the plump assets.

“what was the question again?” you sighed tiredly, encouraging the deadly glare your Daddy has on you.

a yawn overcoming you as you hovered your hand over your mouth that makes Ari scoff. glossy lips still bearing cookie crumbs at the corners you stretched, you lick them off and you bite your lip at him.

mocking him in your divine rebelliousness.

letting out little high pitched noises as you arched your back with your hands twined together above your head. again, to emphasize your cleavage, “would it just go in one ear and out the other or would you actually listen and answer like a good girl?” Ari seethed.

you stand there and register it and of course you were heading off the direction you want but maybe you can turn the tables on him. “i’ll be a good girl Daddy, I promise i’ll listen,” voice soft and assured.

Ari cocks his head to the side at that promise, quirking a brow but not breaking the stare he has on his precious angel that’s playing the devil. he’ll put that promise to the test, walking around the small yet wide arts and crafts table he finally stands in front of you.

making you heart thump louder and louder with each step he takes.

crouching down on his knees to face you at your eye level, Ari sees the devilish twinkle in your starlight eyes. waiting for him to ask the question he knows you can answer correctly.

“what do brats get?”

his stern and mean face that always makes you stutter on your own words and trip over your own feet clashes with yours.

of course you can answer correctly, you can but you can’t believe how fun and thrilling it is with not just your growing ego but the wetness growing in between your legs. soaking your lace panties when your hands lift up to trace his bulging biceps through the short sleeved polo.

“treats?”

you whisper, before your hand goes to grasp the bulge of his trousers that he lets out a pleasured hiss. before you can smirk he’s slapping your hand off his trouser covered cock.

and in a blitz of a second you’re squeaking out a squeal as Ari grabs you by your arm. dragging you to the rocking chair resting near your bookshelves of thick hardcover storybooks and sits in the cushion seat before throwing you over his lap.

whines and cries getting louder when Ari lifts up the tiny argyle skirt to reveal your ass. tummy squirming against his lap he pulls gently at your hair to lift it up.

“keep squirming and i’ll add another five to the twenty you already have,” he hisses but you still can’t believe everything has lead to this.

Daddy never gave you spankings.

never gave you physical punishments before but as much as you were despising the situation you can’t believe how your slicked core is getting wetter with each second that’s passing. with your Daddy’s large hands caressing your ass cheeks and those thick fingertips teasing your pussy’s slit.

“you’re going to count each spank I give you and after each spank I want you to thank me. no whines, no crying just ‘thank you Daddy’. do you understand me?”

Ari’s deep low voice above you rumbling your core like thunder on a dark stormy night. only leaving you to whimper in fear as you nod but were caught off guard when he landed a loud swift slap! to your ass. causing you to gasp in pain.

“yes!” you cried but squirmed when he chuckled down at you. leaving you wandering what you did wrong before he landed another spank to the same cheek. causing you to cry out and feeling the honey of your pussy drench your inner thighs.

“what was that? did you even listen to your Daddy?” he hissed as another rough spank crashed onto your ass, “what do you fuckin say?” he practically roared, leaving more tears to drop down the landscape of your dewy face.

“one! thank you daddy!” you wail pathetically, tears soaking your cheeks, you knew your Daddy is doing what was best for you but you couldn’t help but want to squirm away from his grasp.

catching you doing so he grips your neck in his grasp. “don’t you fuckin run from me now muffin, you acted like a brat so i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat. we have one down and nineteen to go, don’t disappoint me,” Ari seethed before grasping your panties and pulling them off you.

by pulling off he ripped them at the area that covered your ass, marveling at the wetness of not just the panties but your pussy as well. “my muffin got worked up misbehaving? you get your dumb cunt wet when you disrespect Daddy’s authority?” he murmurs.

stuttering and attempting to answer the words become inaudible once your lips part at the calloused hands of Ari’s. soaked panties in his hold, he shoves them into your mouth. making you taste your own sweetness as he licks his own fingers from your honey and moans at the tangy palette.

“I thought we established no talking, you really are just a stupid little girl,” as much as his words sprung tears in your eyes you couldn’t help but feel your core burn. clenching your thighs together as result he darkly chuckles at the pathetic action.

his hands grip your thighs to forcibly split them apart, “oh muffin cake don’t distract Daddy now,” he darkly chuckles and before you now it a loud and swift slap hits your wet pussy. making you cry out in pain that’s slowly growing into pleasure.

“you’ve done enough of that for today. right now Daddy’s gonna have to punish you,” his hand that’s still at your cunt rubs it.

the slick of your wetness sounding off creating an erotic echo in the room and just like that he’s slapping your small wet pussy with his rough hand again. 

“and no matter how much you cry or squirm or beg me to stop I want you to handle it like the big girl I know you can be. do you understand me?” his growl overcoming your muffled pained whimpers and moans as you feverishly nod your head up and down.

pulling the panties out of your mouth you nod your head, “yes Daddy, I understand,” you whimper after a few hiccups.

you can’t see the smirk plastered on his face but you can see his risen hand in the air from the corner of your dress up hand mirror. angled on the floor to capture the moment, shuddering when it disappears from the mirrors image you feel the rough spank at your cheek.

not as rough and angry as the first three but still enough that it stings tremendously, “two, thank you Daddy,” 

“that’s what I like to hear muffin,” Ari smirks before getting back to work.  

your Daddy continued to give you your deserved spankings, your ass bruised and sore by the time he was finished and was satisfied with each one you counted and thanked him for.

praised you for not squirming even when you wanted to as he covered your ass with the thin material of your skirt.

“you did so well muffin cake. handled and took your punishment like the good girl I knew you could be,” he whispered lovingly in your ear m as he carried you to both your shared bedroom to rub some soothing lotion on your sore bum.

“thank you Daddy. I-i’m so sorry I was so bad today,” you whimpered as chocked hiccups become more unbearable. eyes swelling up with tears and a little sob erupting from your mouth. Ari shushes it by taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay baby, I promise everything is okay. no matter how bad you act always know, always know that Daddy still loves you. i’ll always love you muffin cake, that’s forever.” those soft blue hues lace with yours and you truly do feel at ease.

nodding your head at his soft supportive assertion, his forehead pressed to yours and your noses rubbing tenderly against each other. making you giggle and he grins as he laughs with you before setting you down on the bed.

Ari rubs the soothing cold lotion against your bum, continuing to shower you with divine praises, sweet appreciations and heart warming adorations that made your peachy cheeks sore from your never-ending smile.

afterwards he gently carries you in his arm downstairs heading to the living room. telling you how you and him were going to fix the coloring page he ruined as snuggle you face into his neck. large bunny stuffie in you locked armed connection he settles you down on the couch.

grabbing the fluffy throw blanket draped on one of the other couches he grabs it and wraps your lower half in it. giggling as he tucks it around your sides to make sure you’re nestled nice and warm, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Ari glances down to his watch with a soft smile, clutching the remote on the coffee table he turns the TV on.

smirking at your confusion when he goes on the channel that’s minutes away from airing the cartoon marathon.

“Daddy what are you doing?” your hushed voice catches his ears, Ari turns his head over his shoulder at you looking up at him with those conflicted doe eyes.

“i’m letting my muffin watch her cartoons. Daddy knows you’ve been waiting a month to watch them and daddy knows his princess deserves it,” his soft smile only but eludes your guiltiness.

“but i’ve been really bad today. b-bad girls don’t get TV time. they don’t get to watch cartoons,” you sob as tears began to fall once more but they’re quickly wiped away at Ari’s warm hands, cooing you into calming down.

“Daddy knows you’ve been bad today, but you proved to Daddy that you were good at handling your punishment. bad girls don’t get TV time, you’re right, but bad girls who take their punishments well and understand what they did wrong get TV time. because they’re no longer bad girls,” he smiles and you smile as well, leaning in for a kiss he accepts.

“there’s only a couple of minutes left before the premiere starts. Daddy’s gonna be in the kitchen starting dinner, if you need anything just call Daddy’s name out okay?” he whispers and you nod your head, shifting attentively on the couch to get into a comfortable position.

smiling to yourself as you pull your bunny plushie closer when the commercials end and the beginning credits to How The Grinch Stole Christmas starts to roll in.

you come to a solid conclusion.

no matter how you get in your bratty fits that your Daddy is going to forever love you. and no matter how stern Daddy is and how angry you are at him, you’re forever going to love him.

and no spanking or ruined drawing is ever going to change that!

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[starryeyedkoo]

Genre: badboy!au, gang!au, college!au, angst!!, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: mature language, alcohol use (including mention of underage drinking which i do not condone), violence, minor character death, brief mention of addiction, tsundere jungkook, (cheesy) angst around every. corner. (seriously it never stops i’m sorry)

Word Count: 22.9k (here we go again i’m so sorry)

“Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

a/n: this story is just cliche after cliche… because i’m a hoe for cliches, so hopefully it’s not too much hehe. this fic was really self-indulgent and dramatic so be warned !! also this fic was inspired by the dialogue i wrote above (which actually didn’t even make it into the story) and these songs: Harder by Oliver Riot and Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

You tapped the end of your pencil on the surface of the desk you sat at in an attempt to keep your eyes from drooping shut while you worked on the last few problems of your Statistics test. Your ears zeroed in on every sound present in the room, including the flipping of a page coming from behind you, the sniffling from the boy across the room that has been a persistent provocation for the last hour and a half, and also the boy sitting a seat away from you who huffed out a breath and sent you an irritated glance. You pursed your lips and quickly steadied the grasp of your pencil before it became an even bigger annoyance to him.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long hour and a half, you had finally made it to the end of your test with each problem filled out and just a few seconds to spare. Once time was called, you were quick to make your way to turn in your packet and then you turned straight towards the exit. Just as you were only a few meager steps in front of the professor’s desk, he called you over asking if he could speak with you. “Ms. _____, how was the test?” You stopped short, a little confused as to why he had stopped you from walking straight out of there. Before you could produce an easy answer to quickly end the conversation, he interrupted you, “Please feel free to let me know if you need some extra help. I know statistics isn’t easy, so I understand if you’re struggling a bit.”

Your brows drew together in confusion and you glanced around the room at the last lucky students making their way out before you could, each of them dropping their test packets on the corner of his desk and turning the other way. “What makes you think I need help?” You flashed a pleasant smile to maintain respect towards your teacher.

“Well, as I’m sure you know, the curriculum of our university is especially challenging, and I know it may be a bit of a strain for you,” he offered, gesturing towards you in what you were sure was of a demeaning nature.

The smile melted off your face and you found it difficult to keep your lips from turning down in disbelief. “It’s not too different from anything I’ve had to do before.”

“Is that so?” your professor inquired with a doubtful smirk creeping onto his face, and that had been the last straw.

“Actually,” you corrected, suddenly feeling brave and bold enough to defend yourself, “I believe my private high school’s rigor was much more difficult to tolerate than this, but thank you for your concern.” Your false thankfulness did not extend to your facial features, lips turned into a scowl. “Believe it or not, sir, I made it into this university through hard work, not just connections and thick stacks of cash.” You slammed your test paper down onto his desk, making daring eye contact with him for only a moment before turning to take your leave. “Have a nice day,” you bid him sarcastically, striding out the exit.

As soon as you were far enough to overcome the blinding frustration you had just unleashed, you quickly realized you would most likely regret giving your teacher that attitude, but honestly, he deserved it. Screw him.

After anger came the frustration that you had been facing since you enrolled in this university that had been beating down on you like heavy rain, slowly wearing you out the longer you had to withstand it. Nearly everyone you met would soon make the connection between you and your family name and make assumptions about you, several of them nasty. Your least favorite of the rumors however, and maybe it was because it was the most frequent, was that you paid your way into university. For some reason, people couldn’t seem to fathom the idea of you having a functioning brain, and you were getting sick of it.

During your walk, the sky creeped open and rain began to drizzle down, further dampening your mood. Then in the distance, quickly becoming louder, you heard the boom of the bass from the speakers of a car. Next thing you knew, you saw a convertible with its top down coming down the road, filled to more than its full capacity with young men, and just as you had expected it slowed as it was about to pass you. “Hey, little lady, why don’t you come for a ride with us?” one of the boys offered slyly.

You refused to even pretend to play along though, and instead you just put in your earphones and turned your music up to max volume to drown them out until they had enough fun and turned around. It definitely was not the first time that had happened. Frequently, actually, boys would cross over into this side of town and entertain themselves by messing with the snooty, rich folk. You couldn’t blame them, to be honest. Sometimes you felt the same way. Sometimes, you wished you could disassociate yourself with everything that had to do with this city and start something new where no one had any idea who you or your family were.

You were feeling bored, unfulfilled… You really weren’t sure what it was, but you were feeling just as gray and lifeless as the cloudy sky. The concrete streets and buildings of the city. Even the river’s flowing water displayed a dead, sooty color under the gloomy sky. You began to wonder if your eyes were one day going to reflect the same shade.

“No! Absolutely not! This is ridiculous!” Your mother barked, angrily pressing her finger harshly down onto the remote’s power button as the screen of the television went dark. The news anchor had just been reporting on today’s commencement of the new policy enacted by your city to allow ‘free entry of especially gifted students from less fortunate communities’ into the most prestigious university in your city. “I am paying way too much money to send you to this school to keep you away from these thugs, and now they get to waltz on in there for absolutely no charge?”

By ‘thugs’ she meant, of course, the people from the west side of the city. You barely suppressed the eye roll that crept up on you. “If you really wanted me away from them, you should have let me leave the city like I wanted.”

“Yeah, you far enough away where I can’t keep an eye on you? That won’t be happening.” She shook her head disapprovingly before returning her attention to her laptop, typing away at the keyboard. Suddenly, her phone began to ring, and she quickly scooped it up, composing herself before answering with a business-like greeting and excusing herself from the room.

You sighed, checking your phone for the time, the digital numbers indicating that you had thirty-five minutes until your morning lecture on photography, so you placed your plate in the sink, leaving it for the cleaning service to take care of when they came later in the day, as they did every other day. You scooped up your bag and slipped your shoes on, calling to your mother who was most likely already in her office, “Okay, Mom, I’m heading out!” No response. You gave a quick sigh before mumbling to yourself, “Bye.”

Because your house was conveniently located in the busy part of town, and the university stood just outside the business district, it was a relatively short walk, only about twenty minutes long. Your mother insisted she could have her driver take you to and from classes, but you denied. You would much rather walk than draw more attention to yourself and risk looking like a spoiled brat, even though your college was mostly comprised of students who came from wealthy families like you had.

You quickly decided that stopping for a coffee on the way to class was a poor decision on your part now that you were ever so casually speeding down the last block to get there in time. You were heading to the row just a few back from the front as you always did when you spotted an unfamiliar face in the very seat you had claimed since the beginning of the semester. The rest of the row was practically empty since this was a fairly small class. He seriously couldn’t have picked any other spot?

You slowly approached, careful to keep a friendly smile on your face, especially since he seemed to be a new student. You set your bag in the seat next to him before speaking quietly, “Excuse me, but would you mind moving down a few seats? This is usually where I sit.”

The boy looked up from under his black bangs that fell over his forehead. “Aren’t there plenty of other seats to choose from?” he deadpanned, looking up and down the nearly empty row of seats. The polite smile faltered for a moment before you exaggerated it even more.

“I suppose there are…” you reluctantly agreed through clenched teeth, picking up your bag and moving yourself down a few seats from the boy who was now fiddling with his camera he had brought to class. Just moments later, your professor came in, greeting the class and beginning the lecture. You quickly brought out your notebook and your own camera, and you noticed the eyes of the boy sitting next to you staring intently at your camera. Brows turning down in petty dislike for this new student, you brought your hand up to take the strap and pull it closer to you, not afraid to let him to see your scowl.

After another very long and confusing photography lecture, you were once again puzzled by the assignment you had been given and you reluctantly had to ask your professor for help before you left the classroom. You didn’t think this class would be so difficult. You only took it as an elective for an easy A, but instead it ended up being much more complicated than you had initially anticipated. No matter how much you played around, you couldn’t figure out how to get the perfect picture with the right details like everyone else could. “Professor Choi,” you called for her attention. She looked up from the stack of papers she was arranging at her desk while you slung your bag over your shoulder and approached her with hurried steps. “I just had a quick question about exactly how to use—”

“Ms. _____, I’m sorry, but I cannot keep answering your questions about the functions of your camera. This should be prior knowledge or something to study and experiment with in your own time. If you need help, you should consider getting advice from another student who is more well-versed with a camera.” She suddenly looked behind you and you followed her gaze, finding the same boy still lingering, finally leaving from where he sat. “Like Mr. Jeon, for example,” she gestured to him, and his head perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s one of our new students from the Prodigy Program, Jeon Jungkook, and he possesses extraordinary photography skills. He would be an excellent resource for help. Mr. Jeon, how do you feel about that?”

You were quick to wave your hands in protest, voicing, “No, that’s really not necessary.”

“According to your dropping grade, I believe it is necessary, Ms. _____,” she spoke over the rim of her glasses. You felt your cheeks burn red in humiliation, catching a glimpse of the boy fighting back a smug grin. “Mr. Jeon, please tutor her in the class. She would surely appreciate it. Ms. _____, perhaps you can show him around campus and get him accustomed to the new surroundings in return.”

You stayed silent, listening to the clicking of her heels as she left the both of you behind in the empty classroom. It was silent and stiff, and you were still chewing on your bottom lip in embarrassment, especially in front of the boy with whom you had just hit it off poorly an hour prior. Jungkook suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak, but you had no interest in what he was about to say, so you shoved past him and left without a word.

You almost considered not showing up to the next class, but you swallowed your pride and walked through those doors and quickly made your way to the back corner of the room. You were sure you felt Jungkook’s eyes follow you as you passed by your usual row, where he still sat in your seat. You barely even cared anymore, though. He could have it. You would much rather finish the semester hidden in the back of the classroom.

You took no time in leaving once class was over, heading out the door to quickly reach the fresh air of the outside where you didn’t feel like you had to hold your breath, not forgetting to shoot a glare to Professor Choi as you passed by her desk. You made sure you had enough time to get to class today by choosing to not get a coffee before class started, so you decided now would be the best time to do so. You crossed through the courtyard to get to your usual cafe just outside of the campus.

Once you sat down, you brought out your laptop and your camera in order to finally figure out how this thing worked. You should have done it earlier, but you were discouraged so you let the problem fester for a few more days before finally attacking it. You were fiddling around with a few of the functions that you were reading about on your computer, desperately trying to figure out how to make your pictures look professional. You were finally able to focus once your coffee was ready, but you were once again distracted when you felt eyes on you and you looked up to search around. That’s when you spotted familiar dark bangs under a black hoodie. You quickly looked back down, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, but you soon realized he was sauntering directly over to the table you sat at.

He dropped himself down onto the chair across from yours, but he only sat there, waiting for you to say something first. “Can I help you?” you offered grumpily.

“No, but I can help you.” He still stared with the nonchalant, blank expression, which for some reason made his presence even more irritating. You ignored his offer and instead became accusing.

“How did you even know I was here? Did you follow me or something?” You looked him over suspiciously.

An impassive smirk grew on one side of his lips. “I may have seen you come this way.” You scoffed, still wondering why he would have gone out of his way to come here. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m new around here. I’ve got no one to talk to.”

You raised a brow in disbelief. “So you came to talk to me?”

His lips suddenly turned down and his playful demeanor switched off. He leaned forward in his chair, his voice suddenly holding a deeper tone as he spoke lowly, “What, is the pretty little rich girl too good for me?” You were suddenly taken aback and your eyes went round. “Surprised?” he continued with an angry snort. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. People around campus seem to like to talk about you.”

Your shoulders drooped at the thought. “Yeah, they sure do,” you sighed, suddenly frustrated at your unavoidable reputation within your school. “I guess that’s what happens when your dad is the founder of one of the biggest tech supplier companies in Korea. Well… was. My mom took his place as CEO now, but technically it’s—” You noticed you began rambling and had already said way more than you needed to, so you quickly clamped your mouth shut, but you couldn’t stop yourself from opening it again to ramble nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know why I even brought that up,” you laughed lamely, leaning back into your seat.

Jungkook straightened himself up suddenly and his voice became strangely unnatural. “Tech supplier, huh?” You noticed something seemed rather insincere, as if his mind was preoccupied. “What about your dad? Where is he now?” He suddenly inquired casually.

Your brows shot up for only a moment before your form deflated when you answered his question. “He’s… He’s dead, actually.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly widened before he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He looked remorseful, but his eyes were also unfocused and distracted, making you unsure if you should actually take his condolences seriously.

You squinted your eyes in confusion, but you ignored the weird feeling it gave you. You gave a quick smile, picking yourself up and moving on from the topic. “It’s alright. It happened a long time ago.”

Jungkook’s eyes focused back on you after he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Anyways,” he began, steering away from the saddening subject, “I’ll help you if you need me to.”

You debated the decision for a moment, but with one look back at the indecipherable directions on the screen of your computer, you decided getting his help would be the best option. “You know what, I would actually love your help,” you sighed, taking the last sip of your coffee. You looked at the time and realized that it had been much later than you anticipated, and knowing your mother, you would soon be receiving frantic messages and phone calls wondering where you were. “But can I take a raincheck on that? I should really be going.” You gave an apologetic smile, quickly packing up your things into your backpack and waving goodbye before you hurried back home.

After the next class, you both walked to the cafe together where Jungkook would give his first lesson on how to use a camera properly and how to take the perfect picture. You smiled while sitting down after you both ordered a drink. “Again, I’m sorry that you have to spend your time teaching me how to use a camera. I can’t believe I have to get tutored in photography of all things.”

“There’s no shame in a bad grade,” he impassively remarked, hanging his leather jacket over the back of his chair before sitting across from you. “Also, not to call you out or anything, but if you want to learn more, it’s probably not the best idea to sit in the back corner during class,” he lazily raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged your shoulders, agreeing, “Yeah that’s probably true, but it’s not easy getting humiliated by your professor.”

Jungkook’s lips turned down in nonchalance. “Why do you even care what she says? I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

You looked down and traced the lines in the wood that made the table with your finger. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired of my professors thinking that I don’t belong in this school. Most of them seem to think I’m only here because I paid my way in, and that I don’t have any actual brains,” you scowled.

He sat there, face contorted in a mix of several different emotions, but he seemed apprehensive to express what he was thinking. Usually, you would feel like an idiot if someone reacted that way to anything you said, but there was something about Jungkook doing it that made it… not so bad? You had a feeling he wasn’t the type to be a fan of “deep conversations” like these, judging by the awkward hesitance as his face twitched in thought, seemingly unable to let any expression through his ever-calm-and-collected front.

Jungkook brushed it off and suddenly he reached across the table to bring your camera closer to him to examine. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He played around with a few of the buttons and twisted the lense this way and that, looking through the viewfinder, then he shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable! I knew I recognized the model. You’ve got the best fucking camera money can buy and you don’t even know how to use it.” You would have been offended, but then you saw the small smile that appeared on his lips, and it was the first time you had seen one that was genuine, so you stayed quiet and let him enjoy the moment. “God, I would kill for one of these…” He continued looking through the viewfinder and snapping a few pictures for what now seemed like his own amusement instead of figuring out how it worked.

“Yeah, you really seem to like it,” you smirked, waiting patiently for him to be satisfied. He froze at your remark and quickly set the camera down, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he wiped that smile from his face when he was caught breaking his tough exterior.

He quickly wet his lips and straightened up in his seat as he began his lesson. “Okay then, let’s start with the basics.” You nodded eagerly, excited to finally gain some knowledge about a camera and hopefully be able to use it decently from now on. “The first thing you should know about is exposure. There’s three elements that make up exposure and those are aperture, shutter speed, and the ISO,” he slowly explained, pointing to each of the places on the camera that controlled each of these elements. You tried your best to follow along, but you found yourself getting distracted by the rings Jungkook wore on his fingers, and then your eyes traveled over his alarmingly good-looking hands and up the veins that ran up his forearm and suddenly you couldn’t hear a word he was saying. You shook your head lightly, trying to tune back in to Jungkook’s teaching, and this time you actually focused on his voice, but not necessarily the words it produced, but the velvety smooth sound of it.

No. This was not happening. You nervously downed the rest of your cooling coffee and looked at your phone in a panic, attempting to reel yourself back in. “You okay?” he asked in confusion, eyes flickering between you and your empty coffee cup when you unintentionally slammed it down onto the table.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head in dismissal. “N-no! I mean, yes! Everything’s fine.” He narrowed his gaze at you in doubt, but he didn’t bother to push it anyway. “Listen,” you began, eyes darting away from his gaze nervously, picking up your phone and looking for an excuse. “I actually am running short on time. I should be going.”

“I thought you had until—”

You gathered your things before standing up, chair screeching against the tiled floors. “I know,” you interrupted, wearing a guilty smile, “but my mom just texted me and she needs me.” You started toward the exit before skidding to a stop and turning back to him, still sitting there a little dumbfounded. “Can we meet after next class? No interruptions this time, I promise.” He answered with a simple nod, so you waved goodbye and pushed your way through the exit, taking a large sigh of relief once you had reached safety.

You felt bad that you had looked for an excuse to see him again, but you couldn’t help it. As much as you hated to admit it, he was undeniably attractive, and honestly, it was already driving you crazy. Besides, he still has to teach you about your camera, and you felt bad that you cut his lesson off, but you had to get out of there or else you may have lost it. You weren’t supposed to be getting distracted by a pretty face! No one had ever been able to so easily mess with your mind, but Jungkook wasn’t just anyone. He was mysterious and confusing and alluring and you were falling for it just like a cheesy romance novel protagonist. And that was terrifying because what would your mother think? You don’t know why you thought that really mattered, though. It’s just physical attraction and that can easily be ignored.

Turns out being physically attracted to someone is not so easily ignored. Here you were at the cafe sitting across from Jungkook, still completely and utterly blown away by the natural beauty of this man in front of you that you had never bothered to notice in anyone else. Not to mention, it only became more difficult to ignore that ticklish feeling in your stomach now that you’ve gotten to know him and the little quirks in his personality that he seems to suppress almost naturally, making you wonder how long he’s had to put up a front throughout his life.

“I’ve got you all figured out,” Jungkook insisted, pointing a finger in your direction, successfully snapping you out of your troubling internal monologue.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back with a challenging brow lifted. “Is that so?” You were much less timid than you had been the first time Jungkook had tried to teach you photography basics. You two had met several times now, and things had slowly become more natural between the two of you You came to enjoy his company, and you hoped it was safe to assume the same on his end. You still passed these meetings at the cafe off as “study sessions,” but you rarely got any tutoring done anymore, opting instead for conversation over a cup of coffee. Does that make you two friends? You weren’t exactly sure for yourself, and that was something you would never actually ask Jungkook, knowing he would probably find it awkward to actually talk about, even if he did consider you a friend.

“You’re just like the main character of all those cliche movies,” he explained, bringing you down from your cloudy thoughts yet again. “You’re the sheltered, well-behaved daughter who wants to rebel by doing something like getting a secret tattoo or falling for the bad boy. Tell me, am I irresistible?” He wore a cocky smirk that you were so tempted to wipe off with a slap to the face in your embarrassment, though you couldn’t help but laugh anyway. Your face burned crimson, which you hoped wouldn’t give you away, because right now, you were afraid he was dead on.

You searched desperately for a response to get him back, but as far as you knew, he was unbreakable, so you were forced to give up and retreat. “Yeah, right! I’m going to get my coffee,” you mumbled, standing up in attempt to escape and recuperate.

“Don’t worry. I already ordered it for you,” his voice came from behind. It was unusually soft compared to his normally gruff tone, and he looked out the window instead of at you. Was it just you or was he… shy?

“Oh!” you abruptly swiveled back, seeing a cup already placed on your side of the table. You picked it up to examine, looking for the markings to show its ingredients. “Is it—”

“It’s just the way you like it. I promise.”

You began digging through your purse in search of your wallet. “Let me pay you back, then,” you offered, pulling out a ten dollar bill when you were unable to find any smaller bills, not minding if he had to keep the change.

“No, don’t worry about it. My treat.” He shook his head, making no moves toward the cash held out in front of him.

“No, really take it,” you insisted, holding out the money, practically shoving it into his grip, but he only waved your hand away. “It’s the least I can do. You’re already helping me out for nothing in return.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got money—maybe not as much as you, princess—but it’s enough to keep me going.” You hated that his nickname had such an immediate effect on you, causing the same blush to reappear on your face. You didn’t want to draw more of his attention to you while your face was on fire, so you quickly gave up, retracting your hand and putting the money back into your wallet with a deep sigh. Jungkook perked up with an idea suddenly, leaning his forearms onto the table as he spoke. “Actually, I do have a way you could pay me back.” You nodded, waiting for his request. “I have a paper due for English 101 on Monday, and that class isn’t my strong suit. You’re good at English, right? Could you help me out with that?”

“Sure, I can look over that and help you revise it if you need me to. Have you finished so I can go ahead and look over it now?” you asked, already waiting for him to bring out his computer and show you his finished product.

You watched his tongue roll on the inside of his cheek and met his eyes that only held a blank stare. “I haven’t started.”

“What?” you shrieked. “Jungkook! That paper is due in two days, and you have none of it done? Those aren’t easy to rush, you know.” You scolded him, and he fluttered his eyes shut, exhaling slowly, as if he had expected that exact reaction from you. He only shrugged as a response, making you even more frustrated with the boy. “Okay, well I guess we need to meet up tomorrow to get that done, but the cafe’s closed on Sundays, so maybe we should meet in the courtyard.” You looked to him for any sort of confirmation or objection, but he only continued to listen uninterestedly, eliciting an exasperated huff from you. “Sure, we’ll do that. A little fresh air could do us some good anyway. Meet me at six.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t put just a little bit of effort into your appearance today. Definitely not because you were meeting Jungkook, though. You just didn’t have to wake up as early as usual, so you just happened to feel like putting on makeup and planning a nicer outfit as opposed to a hoodie and leggings like you wear for almost every single class.

You texted Jungkook to meet you at the right-most bench in the courtyard at six, but it was now almost a quarter after and there was still no sign of him. You slowly grew more impatient as each minute passed by and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep yourself from sending him a second text asking him where he was. Finally, you saw him jogging towards you from the path adjacent to where you sat, making you breathe in relief and you were about to berate him, but you quickly stopped yourself after one look at his dishevelled state and his slight limp that wasn’t hard to miss. Your eyes trailed him up and down in concern as you quickly stood up to meet him. “What the hell happened to you?” you asked, hands twitching by your sides as you fought the urge to brush away the hair hanging down in his face.

He beat you to it, luckily, as he swept his hair back and shook his head, dismissing the matter. “It’s nothing. I was just in a hurry. Sorry I’m late.” He plopped down onto the bench and you followed just after, still keeping your eyes trained on him in worry. When you put your hand down, you felt it land on top of his own, so you quickly picked it back and and instinctually looked down to wear his hand propped up his upper body and you didn’t miss the blot of scarlet on his knuckles.

You didn’t hesitate in taking his hand into your own now, bringing it up to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you. “You’re bleeding!” you pointed out to him, looking at the red that painted each of his knuckles.

He hummed, taking a careless glance before quickly wiping it off on his jeans, leaving a stain that your eyes focused on in disbelief before directing your rounded eyes back up to his face. He squinted at your reaction, clearly not nearly as interested as you were. “What? I was in a rush, and I fell. That’s all,” he insisted, opening his laptop to move on and get started on his paper.

Your eyes zeroed in on the skin just below his eye that was beginning to take on a dark hue. “I’d believe you if your eye weren’t turning blue right now.” His hand came up to touch his eye without thinking and you could see that he barely winced before he shook his head and continued to open up a document on his computer. You continued to stare patiently, but he made no move to relieve your concerns. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

He scoffed, clicking his tongue with eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. “I already did. The black eye is because my face hit the ground.” He turned to you to still find you scrutinizing him, but he chose to ignore it and get straight into writing the essay. He began to read the prompt aloud until he stopped when he felt a large drop of water fall onto his cheek, and at just about the same moment, you felt the same on your thigh. You both looked up and saw the dark clouds that had drifted in from a distance. Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch to go right on cue, the sky opened up and rain came crashing down on the city with a crack of thunder to top it all off.

After only a few moments, you were already much too wet for your own liking, so you dragged Jungkook behind you to the nearest awning of a building to stand under. “Great,” you murmured, already shivering from the chill of your damp clothes. “Now what are we gonna do?”

Jungkook sighed and looked out at the droplets that poured down just a few inches in front of him while drying off the screen of his laptop with his shirt. “You know, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to help.”

“No. I want to help. I need to after how much you’ve helped me,” you insisted. You tapped your chin in thought of a place to seek refuge from the rain, and the only place that came to mind was home. Home, however, was a risk since there was the chance that your mother would be home, but she usually worked even on Sundays, and you didn’t think there was any reason she wouldn’t be working today, so you decided that would be your best option. “We can go to my place to write this.”

You heard Jungkook mutter behind you, but you couldn’t make out what he said as you built up enough courage and went back out into the cold rain. You glanced behind you to see Jungkook hastily stuffing his laptop back into his bag and reluctantly following behind. Your teeth began to chatter and you crossed your arms over your chest to maintain some body heat. You heard Jungkook’s quiet voice, not quite able to understand what he had said, but he pulled you closer to him and had taken his leather jacket off, now holding it over both of your heads to keep the heavy flow of rain from beating down on you any longer. You blushed at the thoughtful act and your whole body began to feel warmer within moments.

Suddenly what you were sure would be a long, miserable walk went by much faster than you had expected, except for the fact that a jacket could only do so much and you were both still soaking wet and cold. You unlocked the front door and kicked off your soggy shoes, and Jungkook followed, and you told him to wait where he was on the doormat. You came back with a towel for each of you to dry off with. You wrapped the plush cloth around you tightly after squeezing out your dripping hair. To be honest, you hadn’t really thought this far ahead, so now you both stood in the doorway wondering what to do with your still very wet bodies that could easily damage the expensive furniture in your house.

You heard the front door just behind Jungkook begin to open and he quickly stepped out of the way before getting hit with it. Your heart dropped. It was your mother. She took in the scene with a bewildered appearance, eyes drifting from you, soaking wet with eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights to the equally damp boy with the leather jacket, forming black eye, and blood stain on his jeans.

“_____, who’s this?” she inquired with a strained smile, eyes flickering between the two of you. You had a feeling Jungkook could easily sense the tension because you saw him shift awkwardly between his feet.

“Mom, I didn’t think you’d be home. This is Jungkook. I’m helping him with English. We’re in the same class.”

“Oh, you go to college with _____? Where are you from Jungkook?” You could see from the look in her eye that she was testing him. She already knew, but she never thought that you would actually be dumb enough to bring someone like him into her house.

There was a moment of silence where you could tell he was thinking carefully about what to say, and you tried to step in and answer for him with something safe that you hoped your mother would accept and maybe even make her think her assumption was wrong—although that was entirely unlikely—but he spoke over you. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my part of town. It’s west of the river.” You shrunk when you saw the forced smile slide off your mother’s features. You glanced to Jungkook. You never would have guessed from the calmness of his voice, but there was a certain challenging glint in his eyes.

“I see. I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter brought someone like you into my home.” She gave you a once over and you fluttered your eyes shut in shame that you knew you had no reason to feel and shouldn’t be feeling, but that look on your mother’s face never failed to make you feel guilty for absolutely anything.

Jungkook’s tongue poked into his cheek and he laughed dryly. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep my grubby hands to myself.” Your mother’s eyes widened at his rebellious response, and you quickly ushered him up the stairs to prevent any other confrontation that might have occurred had you not intervened.

Once you reached the top of the stairs and achieved peace for the present moment, you led Jungkook to your bedroom and quickly shut the door behind you, dragging your hands down your face in embarrassment and guilt and frustration and... you weren’t even sure what you were feeling at the moment. Jungkook still wore a scowl on his face when you peeked through your fingers,  and he spoke, “No offense, but your mom’s kind of a bitch.”

You groaned and kept your hands where they covered your face, too afraid to meet his intense gaze. “I know. I’m so sorry.” You finally let your hands fall to your sides, defeatedly. “I didn’t think she would be home, so I didn't think we would have this problem.”

You were at a loss for words, disappointed and embarrassed, until you finally let out in a small voice, “She’s not really like that, or at least she wasn’t always. She’s just hurt.” Jungkook didn’t even have to make a move before you elaborated, hopeful to give him some sort of explanation he would accept. “My father was killed by a gang member from the other side of town, and she just hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said equally as quietly as his eyes shifted to the ground. You saw his jaw clench and realized you were probably making him uncomfortable, so you dropped yourself onto your plush bed and patted the space beside you to beckon him to follow.

“Let’s get started on this paper, then,” you began jovially, although it was obvious to the both of you that the change of mood was at least partially forced.

Jungkook took slow steps to join you where you sat and released a quick sigh. “We’re not all like that.” Jungkook’s fingers were intertwined with each other while his elbows rested on his knees and his head was facing you, yet his eyes did not meet your own.

A soft, guilty smile grew on your lips. “It’s okay. I know.” You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought after your failure to divert from the subject. You were determined this time, however, as you motioned for him to bring out his laptop, asking, “Alright. What’s your topic?”

He laid his computer on his lap and handed you a paperback novel. “It’s a character analysis on a character of choice from this book.” You observed the illustrated cover and read the title. Luckily, you had read the novel before, so you could better help Jungkook write the essay. “I don’t know which character to write about though.”

You hummed in thought and flipped through the pages, briefly looking for names to jog your memory. “Well, the main character is the obvious choice, so if you want to impress your professor, that’s not the way to go. Were there any particular characters that interested you?”

Jungkook stared for a moment, but only shook his head in response, saying, “No. I didn’t even like the book.”

You frowned to yourself for a moment, remembering how much you had enjoyed reading the same book. You thought of the most memorable character and suggested to him, “What about Maxine? She was a major character and her story can be interpreted in several different ways, especially with how her relationship with Vernon developed.”

Jungkook scowled shaking his head. “She was the worst character. She couldn’t even take care of her own kid, let alone someone else’s. That’s why the whole plot seemed pointless to me.”

“Well, she was an addict, but throughout the story you could see her battling with her addiction for the sake of her son and everyone else who cared about her. She wasn’t able to succeed in keeping her son in the end, but her good characteristics shine through and that’s what you can write your paper about.”

“She was a shitty character and she didn’t care about her son, but if you want to insist I write the paper on her, then you can just write it for me.” Jungkook dropped the computer on the mattress in the space between you and pushed himself up off the bed, turning his back to you.

Your brows creased in concern as you stood up just a few steps behind him. You tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to upset you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re just being annoying.”

He pushed your hand off of his shoulder and turned around to look at you, face still hardened. Your expression imitated his own, and you questioned impatiently, “Do you want me to help you or not?” Jungkook’s nostrils flared before his tensed arms folded over his chest dropped to his sides and he went back to his seat at the bed. You only observed him for a moment before you gave in and joined him once again, handing his laptop back to him and deciding to ignore the matter for now.

After a few hours of focusing solely on the paper, you both had finished and the final result was definitely worthy of a good grade. The majority of the time had passed in silence, with you leading most of the conversation and helping him with writing rules and him adding his own ideas to the paper silently. His quietness did not go unnoticed by you, though.

Jungkook was adding the finishing touches, and finally he closed his computer to pack it away. Meanwhile, you were debating bringing up the issue that had been weighing on you throughout the writing process of his essay. “Jungkook,” you began nervously, “I don’t know exactly what it was that made you so upset, but I’m sorry.” You glanced up to Jungkook, and you were sure you saw his hardened gaze become neutral as he noticed your eyes on him. “You can talk to me about whatever it is that’s bothering you, though. Just so you know.” One end of your mouth quirked up in an attempt to be comforting without overstepping your boundaries.

Jungkook rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, propping himself up on his hands. His eyes stayed on the corner of the ceiling as he explained. “I guess I just see a lot of resemblance between my own mother and Maxine.” Jungkook shuffled his feet on the ground before continuing, “I guess now that you explain it though, Maxine was actually better than her when it comes down to it.”

You watched silently as his brows pulled together in concentration on the floor below him. You could tell he had been hurt, though you weren’t exactly sure how, but you didn’t expect him to elaborate any further. You sighed in thought and melted further into your bed. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, now. It never actually mattered to me.” You almost pointed out the mirthless smile that spread across his lips, but kept your mouth shut tightly in a moment of hesitation. It wasn’t difficult to see that he was suppressing his emotions, and you knew he would eventually pay for having done that for probably a majority of his life, but you were afraid to push your thoughts onto him seeing how he had a habit of shutting down whenever he had to express something real.

Jungkook cleared his throat, suddenly ushering you out of your thoughts and you hadn’t even realized that you had been staring the whole time. Your eyes darted away, but you didn’t miss the silent chuckle that came forth from Jungkook’s lips. With your face burning red, you diverted your attention to the time on your phone screen, gasping, “I didn’t even realize it had gotten so late.” You stood up, pulling back your curtains and peeking outside to see the sun had already set. “You shouldn’t walk home at this time of night. Do you want me to get you an Uber?” you worried, already pulling up the app on your phone.

He placed his hand on the rim of your phone, pulling it down to get your attention, chuckling, “I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

You pressed your lips together, concerned, still hesitating to let him go when you could help. He already picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder, however, so you were forced to digress as he began to walk away. You followed him down the stairs toward the front door, requesting, “Fine, but text me when you get home safely.”

Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter, throwing a look over his shoulder at you. “Don’t smother me.”

“I’m not!” you countered with a grin. You crossed your arms over your chest at the breeze let in as Jungkook turned to face you one last time on the front porch.

Jungkook looked over your shoulder and the fraction of a smile that had been present on his lips faded away. “I’ll see you later, _____.”

You bid him farewell in return and in the next moment he was descending the front steps and on his way home. You closed the door and you were once again surrounded by the warmth of the inside, but your goosebumps did not go away when you saw your mother who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as he left. The both of you made eye contact for a few moments before she wordlessly turned and walked back into the kitchen, and you did the same, slinking back into your room as if you hadn’t seen her.

You laid on your bed, finishing up studying for class the next day, when your eyes shifted down to the numbers displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen. It was almost midnight. Jungkook should have gotten home by now, but the multiple times you had checked, even in the moment, you still received no message. You took it upon yourself to make sure he made it back alright.

‘Did you get home safely?’ You sighed throwing your phone down next to you, not expecting him to respond anytime soon since he was always very flaky with texting.

Your screen lit up within a few minutes however with a new message from Jungkook. You quickly slid your thumb across the screen and unlocked your phone to read his reply. ‘yes.’ It was short and simple, like his messages always were. He was a man of few words on all levels. However, for some reason, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling you got, your lip caught between your smiling teeth at the thought that—though highly unlikely—his quick reply meant that he had been waiting for you to say something first. You felt silly, like you were a freshman in high school all over again, but the feeling was nonetheless welcomed.

Your fingers speedily typed back, ‘Good. You had me worried for a second there.’ You patiently watched the screen for a while until the read receipt popped up under your message. However, there was no indication of a reply coming your way, and you rolled your eyes at the far too familiar scenario. You lifted your head up for a moment, letting your eyes scan around your room for no particular reason until they landed on a black bag in the corner of your room. It resurfaced a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now, and you decided now was as good a time as any to confront it. Typing once more on your phone, you sent one more message to Jungkook. ‘Can we meet at the cafe tomorrow? There’s something I want to give to you.’

Suspecting Jungkook’s record-time reply was a one-time-only kind of thing, you placed your phone on your nightstand and closed your computer up, laying back in your bed to finally get some sleep for class the next day.

You sat at your usual table in the far corner of the cafe, waiting with both of your drinks already ordered and paid for in return for last time. Luckily, today, you weren’t kept waiting for long as Jungkook came walking in relatively on time with a black baseball cap pulled down tightly. As soon as he sat, you ducked your head and discovered the reason for his not-so-subtle accessorization. His eye had become darker than it was the day before. You clicked your tongue reaching over and lifting the cap to get a better look at it, fighting against Jungkook’s grip to hold it in place.

“Must have been quite a fall, huh?” you observed with an incredulous glare. Jungkook only silently nodded. You both knew that you knew he was lying, but no one said a word. After a moment of thought, you inhaled sharply and bent down to where the black bag sat next to you, pulling out the object of interest. “Right. I have something for you.”

Jungkook observed with a raised brow and watched as you pulled out your camera that he had seen countless times before. You placed it on the table and grinned, waiting for any sort of response, but Jungkook’s eyes only flickered between you and the camera cluelessly. “What?” he finally gave in and questioned.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed the camera across the little table closer to him. “I’m giving you the camera!”

Jungkook’s eyes were suddenly huge and his mouth hung open for a mere second in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. This camera costs a lot of money. Why would you just give it to me?”

Your eyes trailed down and you shrugged slightly. “I don’t know, you just got so excited when you saw it the first time that I’ve been thinking about how much more you deserved it since then. After this semester ends, I won’t even want to touch a camera again, but you love photography, so it’s much better in your hands.”

“Why don’t you just keep it until the end of the semester, then? There’s only a few more weeks.” His eyes were glued to the object in front of him like a child looks at a candy bar.

“I’ll get a different camera, a cheaper one, and that way you can use that one for the final project.” Jungkook still looked hesitant, looking to you one final time for some sort of approval. Your laugh bubbled up inside of you. “It’s yours! Take it.” His hands took hold of the camera in no time, a beaming smile on his face, as he began snapping pictures of anything and everything in sight. He took one of the tree just outside the window, then a picture of the two coffee mugs placed beside each other on the table, stopping to take a look at the results for just a moment before diving right back into it.

You weren’t even sure what made you want to give him the camera all of a sudden, but as you watched him, you realized it was probably because of that childlike smile on his face. Every once in a while, he was unable to uphold his strong exterior and instead he just let it down and showed a completely different side of himself, one that very few were ever lucky enough to see. It made you happy that you were one of the few.

Suddenly, you noticed that the camera lens had been pointed directly at you. You tried to bring your hands up to hide your face, but Jungkook was already looking at the result, signalling you had been too late. “Delete that!” you whined as Jungkook laughed obnoxiously, jerking the camera away from you as you tried to take it away from him. When he looked at the picture, his laughing grin turned into a softer smile. “Jungkook, please get rid of that. I probably looked so—”

“You look…” he cut you off, stopping mid sentence in thought. He looked up to you for a mere moment and then back down to the picture. “...beautiful.” At that moment you were completely floored, unable to say anything else. In the dead silence between the two of you, it was as if Jungkook had just registered what he said, and he quickly set down the camera, looking out the window because he had no idea where else to look.

You bit down on your lip to hold back the smile that wanted so desperately to spread across your face, pushing a few stray strands of hair back behind your ear. “Thank you,” you mumbled. Jungkook still looked out the window, but you heard a laugh get caught in his throat, which escalated to both of you giggling and blushing like idiots. Anyone walking by would look at the both of you and think you’re just a pair of awkward teenagers falling in love. Maybe that’s exactly what you were.

Your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing right now. Jungkook wanted to kick off summer vacation with something new. You were hesitant at first, but Jungkook was able to coerce you into it, so now you found yourself in Jungkook’s side of the city, a place you had never ventured to before. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared, especially because of the way your mother described it, whether it was completely true or not, but it definitely didn’t help when Jungkook told you to stay close to him, which made your heart beat faster for two completely different reasons.

After passing through a dark alley that gave you goosebumps, Jungkook led you to a beaten up little building. You read the glowing sign at the top dubbing the building Roy’s Diner. “You brought me all the way here to eat?” you asked Jungkook doubtfully.

“Trust me. It’s worth it. The food here is amazing.” Jungkook walked a few steps ahead of you and looked back to see you examining the restaurant. You weren’t one to judge a book by its cover, but you weren’t even sure how this place was passing any kind of building inspections. “Come on, it’s one of my favorite places. It was in real bad shape a few years ago and on the brink of closing down.”

“Well, if you love this place so much, you should work to fix it up and save it. I’d be willing to help, too, if you want,” you offered.

Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy. “Save it? What are you talking about? It’s already been fixed up. The place is thriving now!” He gestured grandly to the building, causing you to give it a doubtful second examination. You weren’t exactly sure what his definition of ‘thriving’ was, but it must be vastly different from yours judging by the flickering neon sign and the walls that desperately needed painting and, quite frankly, looked like they could very well cave in on themselves soon. You gave him a tight smile, but he only rolled his eyes. “Look, it may not look like all those fancy restaurants you’re used to, but I promise, I’m about to introduce you to the best fries and milkshake you have ever tasted in your life. Nothing beats Roy’s cooking.”

After Jungkook had grabbed your hand and practically dragged you inside, you were met with a much different atmosphere than what you were expecting. It was unexpectedly warm and cozy inside, and the loud chatter and laughter coming from all around almost made it feel like you were at a rowdy Thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly almost everyone that had been engrossed in a conversation turned towards the door to see the two of you had arrived. There was a deafening chorus of greetings to Jungkook, mostly from the older folks at the bar and surrounding tables whom Jungkook dragged you over to. Only after Jungkook gave almost each and every one of them a hug, which was much to your surprise, did some of the older women notice you were there. “Oh, Jungkook! You finally got yourself a girl and brought her here to meet us!” one of the women practically shouted as another tried to pinch Jungkook’s cheek while he quickly tried to maneuver away.

Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck, finally realizing he still held your hand in his own and quickly released his grip, much to your disappointment. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a friend from college, and I brought her here so she could try Roy’s famous food for the first time and change her life forever.”

Several of them chimed in, greeting you after you introduced yourself shyly. Jungkook went to grab a menu for you, and the ladies took it as an opportunity to chat some more with you. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“No, I’m not actually.” You could barely even hear their responses since they all talked over each other, and although you had expected at least some of them to draw conclusions and figure out you were from the other side of town and treat you differently, they all still gave you friendly smiles.

Jungkook came back just in time to save you from more of their questions, thankfully, and brought you up to the counter to order food from the restaurant owner he introduced you to, Roy. You ended up getting a burger with the infamous fries and milkshake Jungkook kept going on about. Over dinner, much of the topic of conversation stayed on you and mostly Jungkook since, as many of his friends implied, he hadn’t visited recently. You ended up loving the atmosphere and how close everyone seemed to be. Even Roy would talk with everyone in between orders, and though you had never met anyone before, everyone was welcoming and open to talk with you. In fact, they were eager to see you and to see that Jungkook “has some friends his own age” as they teased.

You were finally finishing up your milkshake as the sky was just becoming dark, and the restaurant, while still buzzing, had quieted down considerably enough to have a conversation at normal volume. Jungkook had left you sitting at the counter alone while he went to the bathroom, and you couldn’t hold back the smile to yourself thinking about the way he interacted with all these people he seemed to be so close to. You looked up as Roy stood on the other side of the counter from you, cleaning a glass with a towel. “You seem like a great girl. I’m glad Jungkook met someone like you.”

You blushed, expecting him to only make some simple small talk while Jungkook wasn’t around. “Oh… I wouldn’t say it like that.” You laughed nervously, pushing stray hair back out of your face. “We’re only friends. We just talk sometimes.” ‘Sometimes’ was a bit of an understatement you realized, but it seemed most of the people got the impression that you were Jungkook’s girlfriend, which unfortunately wasn’t the case.

“Let me let you in on a little secret. Don’t tell Jungkook I told you this, but he doesn’t bring just anyone here. These people are like his second family, and if he thinks you’re good enough to meet them, then you’re pretty darn special.”

You couldn’t help the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach at the thought. A sudden thought came to you and you bit your lip, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask. You decided it probably wouldn’t hurt, grabbing Roy’s attention once again. “Sorry, you said this is like his second family?” He nodded easily. “Well, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s the first?” You questioned carefully, hoping it wasn’t too forward or prying of you to wonder about such things. You knew that Jungkook’s parents were out of the picture, so you tried to imagine who else he would be close with besides the people in this room.

Roy stayed silent for only a moment before both of you saw in the corner the door to the restrooms swing open and Jungkook wiping his hands dampened from the sink on his shirt. As Jungkook made his way back to take the seat next to you, Roy gave a tight smile and a quick nod to hastily end the conversation. Your forehead creased in confusion, wondering why there had so suddenly been something secretive come up. You smiled as Jungkook came and took his seat next to you again, but you couldn’t quite wipe the puzzlement off your face. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook suddenly asked, throwing his arm over your shoulder, which you were sure was only a product of him being just a little bit tipsy.

“Nothing.” You shook your head.

After Jungkook had walked you home that night, you were met with a very displeased mother. You did stay out a little late, you admit, but you should have that freedom. You’re a fully functioning adult, yet here you are, getting lectured by your mother. Though it wasn’t all bad, especially since you weren’t paying an ounce of attention. Instead you were thinking about Jungkook walking you home just minutes before. He had a few drinks at the diner, so he was a bit more carefree than he was on a usual basis, so the entire way home, you had the pleasure of feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours and for a moment everything felt so real.

And that’s when you realized there was no turning back. Your hand felt empty now that his wasn’t there anymore and there were too many lingering butterflies to be ignored. Again, maybe this is the result of the tiniest bit of alcohol that you’re hoping desperately your mother doesn’t smell on you right now since you were still technically underage.

The thought of your mother ruined it all though. The warm fuzzy feeling became cold as you remember that as long as she had a say, being with Jungkook was out of the question. You could take one look at him and easily see he was the epitome of a boy your mother would never approve of, with his all black clothes and leather jackets, his pierced ears, his dark yet endearing—at least in your eyes—humor. Your mother would keel over if you ever revealed you had feelings for him.

And this was assuming that Jungkook even felt the same way about you. But there had to be something there, right? You felt like with how you easy it was to talk to each other, and how much Jungkook has opened up to you, not to mention those few tender moments that you two never spoke about, it seemed pretty obvious there was something between the two of you. It couldn’t all just be in your head. Though you were still terrified, you came to the conclusion that you would let Jungkook know exactly what you were thinking and see what happens from there.

Making a decision that you would confess to Jungkook did not make it any easier to actually do it. You had never been the one to make the first move in the past, and Jungkook being the person of interest made it even scarier. Jungkook was coming over to your house so you could help him study for English, and your heart was beating erratically while waiting for the doorbell to ring. You couldn’t sit still and eventually began pacing in the living room, and you weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him today. However, today would be a good day, since your mom isn’t home and home is the best place to do it. If he turns you down, there won’t be any public embarrassment. So basically today is the perfect day to do it. So basically you have to do it. You began to pull at your hair in distress when finally the doorbell rang, and you probably answered it way too fast. As Jungkook greeted you, he smirked as he looked at the top of your head, smoothing down the hair that you must have messed up in your panic, and unfortunately you very obviously flinched away from his hand, playing it off with a nervous chuckle.

You silently led him up to your room, and he could most definitely tell that something was going on, but he didn’t say anything to acknowledge it, much to your relief. You let him into your room and closed the door behind you, taking in a deep breath. Luckily, as soon as you start to talk with each other like any other day, you begin to feel comfortable again and you finally feel relaxed.

After about an hour of studying, you take a break and you begin to wonder if this would be the time to say something. You began to go over the small speech you had rehearsed all morning, but before you could get anything out, you watch as Jungkook pulls off his hoodie, and as he does so, the short sleeve of his shirt on his right arm comes up, revealing a black image displayed on his skin which immediately piques your interest. “Wait, what was that?” you asked, tentatively pushing his sleeve up his shoulder to examine the image you had spotted hidden beneath it.

“Nothing,” he replied uninterestedly, brushing your hand away.

You locked gazes with him, wide eyes on display in an attempt to make him cave in.  “Well, it’s obviously a tattoo,” you reasoned aloud. “Any special reason?” Had you not had the suspicion that came into your mind, you would have let it be.

He quickly shook his head, breaking away from your curious eyes. “It’s just a tattoo. Nothing special about it.”

Your voice was soft now, and your eyes dropped to examine the lines in the wooden floors of your bedroom. “It’s a gang tattoo, isn’t it?” He only stared back, still with no intention of giving any answers. You figured that would be the reason why he was so apprehensive. Had it been any other tattoo, he probably wouldn’t have had any problem. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

He briefly exhaled through his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut before he gave a hasty nod. “I’ve told you before. I got mixed up with some bad people when I was younger, but don’t worry, it’s all in the past now.” You were glad he had gotten past it and hoped he was safe and out of that business now as he said he was.

Your gazes were locked on each other’s for far too long and you suddenly remembered what your original goal was, and you now realized you ruined the mood for that to happen. “I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassured softly. “I would have told you before, but I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

Your mouth curved into a small smile, arms hugging your torso. “You couldn’t scare me away. Don’t you know you’re stuck with me?” you joked. You suddenly realized now was the time. You had everything you wanted to say planned out, but now that it came down to it, you panicked and forgot all of it, so you had to say exactly what was on your mind. “Jungkook, you know you mean a lot to me, right? When I say that, I don’t mean as a friend either. I mean it as more than that, I guess.” You stuttered and slipped over your words and began to trail off in your last statement in nervousness, which became full panic as you observed the smile slip from his face.

“_____...” That was all he said before an agonizing amount of silence and out of all the scenarios you had thought up, this was probably the worst of them all. “You don’t mean that.”

“What? Of course I do,” you insisted, reaching out to him, but he only coiled back out of your reach. “Jungkook…”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He tried to walk away from you, but you grabbed onto his arm. You’d accept it and let him go if he had just rejected you, but you could tell something was wrong.

He shook your grip off and picked up his books and stuffed them into his bag in a hurry. “What is wrong with you?” you questioned desperately at his sudden shutdown. Then it all made sense. “That’s it. You’re shutting down again. You can’t stand it when you have to deal with any sort of real emotion.”

He scoffed, “Don’t try reasoning me out of this. I don’t want anyone to depend on me like that, not even you.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to feel anything?” He stopped and looked up to you from his bag, locking eyes, and you hated how they had suddenly become cold and unfamiliar.

“No, _____, I’m not, and that’s why you should just give up on me. I can’t give you what you want. Go find someone else that’s not gonna hurt you.” You didn’t want to watch him walk away. You had no way of knowing what his true feelings were, but you knew that this wasn’t what he needed. He said he didn’t want anyone to depend on him, but in reality, he was afraid to depend on someone else. He didn’t want to put himself in a position to get left behind again, scarred by memories of his mother who had abandoned him.

All you could do was let him figure things out on his own. If he really did love you, then he would find his way back. All you can hope is that you didn’t just lose one of the best things that had ever happened to you. “Okay, if this is how it is, then I’ll let you go. I can’t keep doing this, Jungkook.”

He was already taking large strides out the door to get away as fast as his feet would carry him. “I know,” was all he said. Then he was gone.

It had been a week since Jungkook walked out on you, and you were beginning to lose hope of seeing him again. You would usually give it a bit more time before you began feeling doubtful, but you hadn’t seen nor heard any sign of him.

You laid pathetically alone on your bed on a Saturday night that you should have used to spend time with friends, but you ended up turning down any plans that were offered. You opened your phone and looked through old messages between you and Jungkook, and you began to type a message to ask him how he was doing, but just before you hit send, you ended up erasing it all and throwing your phone back down. As much of a bummer as it was, you decided to take tonight to go to bed and get some extra sleep.

You had already shut off all your lights and tucked yourself into your warm bed when a sudden, echoing knock came from your window, almost scaring you out of your wits. You quickly stumbled out of bed and turned on the lamp that sat on your nightstand, opening the curtains without hesitation because you already knew exactly who would be waiting behind them.

There you saw Jungkook hugging his jacket closer around him in the chilling night winds. This wasn’t the first time he had come to you through your bedroom window. He had done it several times before when he came over and saw your mother’s car parked in the driveway to avoid having to get through her to see you. You unhooked the latch, hurrying him in as he struggled to climb over the window sill. “_____,” he breathed out through chattering teeth. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face into the hair on top of your head. “I always fuck things up just when they’re starting to go right.”

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you spoke gently, rubbing his back up and down as he stood still and inhaled your scent for a few moments.

He chuckled breathily. “How can you always forgive me even when I’m such an ass?”

“Because I love you.”

You had pulled away enough so that you could look him in the eyes when you spoke, hopeful that this time it would go right. Jungkook pulled you back to him, mostly so that he could hide his face when he told you, “I love you, too.”

Your mother had dragged you out of the house way too early for a Saturday morning to go shopping with her at all of her favorite designer-brand stores, which was already a shock to you since she hadn’t found time to spend with you in almost four years since she was always so busy with work. Now, out of nowhere, she was having you try on at least a dozen gowns at each stop.

“Okay, mom,” you sighed walking out of the dressing room wearing the last of several dresses she had picked out. “This is the last one.”

She smiled, motioning for you to turn around. “That one looks beautiful, too! Which one did you like the best?”

You turned around, scrutinizing the way the material draped over you in the mirror. “I don’t know. They all look nice.” You turned back to her, finally deciding to question the motive behind her sudden eagerness, hoping it wouldn’t ruin her rarely bright mood. “Why exactly am I looking for a dress?”

She folded her hands in her lap, crossing her legs over each other, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I wasn’t planning on telling you yet, but I’ll be hosting a gala, and I want you to come.” She looked for some kind of reaction from you, but you only continued to listen, smoothing the skirt of the dress you wore. She cleared her throat. “There will be a lot of young men there, soon to be owners of their parents’ companies. You should try to meet some of them.”

You finally looked back to her reflection in the mirror. “I’ve already met plenty of them,” you pointed out, brows creased in thought. “Is this your way of saying you want me to make connections?” you accused, stressing the word “connections” to imply it may have a different meaning. You heard rumors that big business owners would sometimes send their kids to high class social events hopefully form a relationship with another heir to merge the businesses and increase profit, but you didn’t think it was actually something that happened.

“I’m not saying I want you to do it, but you should be open minded to some of the boys you meet there.” She smiled to try to convince you, standing to speak with you at eye level.

“So, what, you want me to charm them with a pretty dress?” you asked. You scrunched your nose, looking down at the dress that you had once thought was pretty, but after staring for too long, you began to hate it.

“And your wonderful personality,” she joked with a playful pat on your cheek, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.

You’d met all these heirs to wealthy businesses before, and you knew that they weren’t interested in your personality. They weren’t looking for any sort of relationship, they were either looking for connections or a good time, and when it came to the unfortunate girls at these parties, they were usually stuck with the latter. And as spoiled rich kids, they didn’t like to be told no, which made you even more nervous than you already were.

You walked back into the dressing room, peeling off the itchy material of the dress you had to wear for far too long due to the unexpected news that had been broken to you. When you put back on the t-shirt dress and sneakers you had originally been wearing, you stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You began to think you liked yourself much better this way. You knew Jungkook liked you better this way. You bit back a smile at the thought of him, and it finally occurred to you that your mother didn’t even know that you and Jungkook were officially… whatever you were. You hadn’t really addressed it yet since that night. You did know, however, that you loved each other, but your mother wanted to send you into a room full of men you probably couldn’t trust. You began to wonder about what would happen if you brought Jungkook to the gala with you. Your mother would be furious, but you would feel so much safer. Though, you didn’t even know if Jungkook had any interest in going.

You heard a knock on the door, zoning you back into reality and making you realize you had been staring into the mirror in thought. “Are you ready?” you heard your mother’s voice calling from the other side.

“Coming,” you answered.

Jungkook had come over in the afternoon for what was supposed to be getting help from you for English, but when he actually arrived and you told him to get his books out, he didn’t even have his bookbag with them, so he claimed he “forgot” it. You knew he was lying, though. Jungkook had trouble with being direct. He always had to have some sort of excuse to see you rather than just wanting to spend time with you. You knew he actually cared behind all of this, though, but for now you would just have to learn how to interpret his roundabout methods.

Since he coincidentally didn’t bring his materials to study, he ended up laying down next to you in your place in bed, opting for just talking for a while. Jungkook had been looking around your room that he had practically memorized by now since he’d seen it so often, making it easy to spot any little change. He saw an extra framed picture on your nightstand of you and who he was positive was your father. He pointed it out, “That’s new.”

You looked over your shoulder to follow his line of sight and your eyes landed on the object of interest. “Yeah. I found that in a box a few days ago and decided to frame it and put it up.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t hold up for long as you engrossed yourself in thought.

“What?” Jungkook asked, looking down at you as a frown deepened on your face.

You shook your head. “Nothing.” You looked back at it one last time before turning back to him and grabbing his hand to fiddle with his fingers while admitting slowly, “I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like.”

“Don’t you have any videos where you can hear his voice?”

You nodded faintly. “I’m sure we have some somewhere, but I’d have to go looking for them myself. I don’t wanna bring my mom into it. She gets really upset when he’s brought up.”

“If it means getting to hear his voice, then you should just ask her. She can’t keep it from you, and you can’t let her pretend it never happened.” He was obviously letting his bias towards you affect his solution, but you remember clearly what happens to your mother whenever she hears about him, and although you two didn’t always get along, you would never purposefully do that to her.

Also, to be honest, you were shocked that Jungkook had even said what he had. You barely laughed, lacking humor, “Should I even take that advice from you?”

Jungkook’s lips turned down and his forehead creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You had a feeling this was leading into an argument you really weren’t looking to have, especially judging by his already irritable tone of voice. “I mean that you’re a prime example of ignoring the past,” you said as you tried to keep your voice even to remain peaceful without making him upset.

Jungkook sat up in the bed and you sighed, immediately regretting even bringing this up. “How have I ever done that? I fully acknowledge everything that’s happened to me.”

“It’s not that you choose to ignore the past itself, Jungkook, but you ignore the…” you paused to look for the right words as he waited impatiently, “the emotions you should be feeling from it.”

He scoffed, pushing himself off the bed, and he unintentionally rose his voice. “Who are you to tell me how I’m supposed to feel?”

“I’m not saying anything like that, Jungkook!” You began to shout as well, but you stopped yourself to control the volume of your voice, finishing calmly, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be sad.”

Jungkook held your gaze for a moment before shaking his head violently and dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m not sad,” he spat.

You watched as he evened his breathing, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Alright,” you gave in. “If you say you aren’t sad, then I’ll believe you.” You knew he was lying not only to you, but to himself, but you let it go, not wanting to argue with him anymore. You stood up, brushing his bangs away that hung down in his eyes, pulling him to sit back down next to you on the edge of the bed. You brought a hand to his cheek to lift his face to meet your eyes. “I want to ask you something, and I know it may be asking a lot from you, so feel free to turn me down.”

He waited patiently for what you had to say, and you thought for one moment, still nervous at the prospect of him actually agreeing. “My mom is hosting this gala,” you explained, “and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

He squinted his eyes at you, finding it hard to believe you would even ask him about something like that. “You want me to go to a gala with you? That your mom is hosting?” You nod silently in return, though you can easily see where he’s coming from. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“I know it’s not exactly your scene, but, if I’m honest, I’m a little worried about it. My mom wants me to make connections with some of the young heirs there. They’re not the most trustworthy people, though. I just think I would feel a lot better if you were there.” You looked up to him nervously in hopes that he would understand what you were trying to say. With the way his jaw tightened, you were certain he had gotten the point.

He swallowed, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and agreeing softly, “Okay. I’ll be there for you.”

Later that night, you both decided you would go out to eat at Roy’s again because Jungkook was right, that was the best fries and milkshake you had ever tasted. It still made you nervous to go into the more dangerous side of the city, but nothing happened last time, and with Jungkook there, you had nothing to worry about. However, your fears suddenly returned to you when you heard someone from behind you shout, “Jeon!”

Jungkook quickly grabbed onto your hand as you both turned around. They didn’t look threatening when you turned around. In fact, they were around your age and you began to think they may have been friends of Jungkook. The same one who had called out to him spoke again, “Your dad called an emergency meeting. Another gang’s been looking to take some of our territory.”

You froze. You must not have heard that right. You felt Jungkook stiffen beside you, too. “What did he just say?” you mumbled.

Jungkook stared ahead wordlessly, his lips pressed into a thin line. That’s when you knew you heard exactly what you thought you did. Your lip curled up in anger and you shouted, “You lied to me! You’re in a gang!” Your eyes filled to the brim with tears, but you tried not to let them fall. You repeated, “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

Jungkook swallowed, knowing there was no way he could get himself out of this. He let the silence boil in an angry pot for a long while before he found his voice again. “Yeah, I did,” he breathed, nodding slowly.

You turned your face away from him, hesitant to ask what was on the tip of the tongue because you were terrified of what his answer may be. “What’s the name?” you barely choked out, but when he only stuttered as an answer, you screamed at him, “Was it your gang that killed my dad?”

“We’re not like that, _____. He was kicked out as soon as we found out.”

He confirmed exactly what you were afraid of. You knew the emblem you had seen on his shoulder seemed familiar for a reason. You felt sick. You felt betrayed. The tears you had been holding back were now free falling down your face. “You knew? You knew the whole time and you didn’t tell me?” You roughly pushed at his chest, but he barely moved an inch.

He reached out for you before retracting his hand right away. “I didn’t want this to happen.” You didn’t want to hear his excuses. You didn’t even want to see his face right now. You just needed to get away. When you turned on your heel, he called out your name, but you didn’t listen. When he tried to go after you, the men who came to get him held him back and hurried him away. He tried to fight to push past them, but he knew that if he chased after you, you would only hate him even more.

By the time you arrived home, you could barely even stand. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking, how violently your sobs had been wracking through you. When you reached the safety of solitude within your bedroom, you leaned on the post of your bed and sunk to the floor, burying your head in your hands. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that.

You heard a soft tap at your window and, knowing exactly who it came from, you pretended as if you didn’t hear it. Then Jungkook’s voice came quietly through the closed window, “Please let me in, _____.”

“Go away!” you shouted, not even moving to see his face. He didn’t leave though. Instead he kept tapping, which became impatient knocking, becoming louder and louder. You stood up and walked to the window and the sound finally ceased as he let out a sigh, but instead of unlocking the window like he had expected, you pulled the curtains closed and walked back to sit on your bed, staring emptily at the wall.

You could hear him growl in frustration. “Don’t make me break this goddamn window, _____!” you heard him scream from the other side of the curtains. You only shook your head and tried to ignore him until he left, but you jumped when you heard the crescendo of pounding on the glass, becoming more forceful by the second.

You hurriedly rushed to your feet again to open the curtains, only to be met with Jungkook repeatedly driving his fist into the glass. “You’re insane!” you cried out. You quickly unhooked the latch that kept him locked outside in fear that he would really form a crack in the glass. He immediately pushed through and took your face into his hands, pulling you close. “Get away from me!” You frantically fought, pulling his hands away from you and trying to put distance between you.

He placed his forehead against yours, whispering, “_____, please listen to me. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” You suddenly ran out of energy to continue fighting him, but you still kept a grip on his wrists as his hands still rested on each side of your face. Your sobs didn’t cease, however, and he slowly slid his hands down to wrap around your waist and bring you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head as you reluctantly melted into him in exhaustion. “Please forgive me.”

“Jungkook,” you breathed weakly.

He stopped you quickly, reminding you of a conversation the two of you had in the past. “You’ve said it yourself before. You know that I’m nothing like that man.”

“Of course I know that.” You shook your head before you pulled away from him, but he wouldn’t let you go far enough to where he had to let you go. “I’m angry because you kept this from me. You knew it was something I needed to know, but you kept it to yourself anyway.”

He sighed and he was about to plead for you to forgive him once more, but the vibration of his phone is his pocket brought his words to a halt. You saw that he immediately became worried when he read the caller ID and answered the call without hesitation. You couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but the way his face contorted in worry let you know that it was bad news. He ended the call with a quick affirmative and when he hung up, he looked frantic. “Shit,” he hissed. “There’s an emergency back at home. I’ll come back later tonight, though. We aren’t finished here,” he promised, already making his way back outside.

You woke up the next morning surprised that you had ever been able to fall asleep. You hadn’t even bothered trying to fall asleep the night before since you knew that if Jungkook said he was coming back, then he was coming back. But he never did return, which worried you. You didn’t want to care, but no matter how hard you tried to hate him, the fact that he never actually came back made you think something bad happened, and that scared you. You tried texting him early in the morning, several hours after he had left, but now even after you had slept and woke up again, you still received no response, which was extreme even for him.

Knowing all that you knew about him now, you could only assume the worst, especially since you had heard about the apparent emergency that he had gone to take care of. You rushed to get yourself ready to go out and look for him only to be stopped when you realized you had no idea where you should be looking. Of course your first instinct was his home, but you didn’t actually know where that was. You found it hard to believe you hadn’t realized until now how much you still didn’t know about Jungkook. So, you went to the only place you knew of where you could find any sort of hint of where to find him.

You pushed through the heavy door that led into Roy’s diner, immediately met with several heads whipping your way to get a look at the visitor. Since it was the morning, there were far fewer people than there had been the first time you came, but you saw several familiar faces, including Roy himself. You walked in nervously, feeling a little out of place now that Jungkook wasn’t by your side, which everyone was quick to notice. “Do you know where Jungkook is?” asked one of the older men that he had been talking to during your previous visit.

“That’s the problem,” you sighed. “He left last night saying it was an emergency and I haven’t seen him since. He isn’t answering his phone either.” You shook your head, looking down at your phone one more time, hoping to be proven wrong. The news even made Roy stop what he was doing behind the counter to listen, worrying just like the rest of them. They all shared concerned, knowing glances.

Roy approached you slowly, setting his towel down, explaining, “We heard news early this morning that there was a dispute between gangs.” You waited impatiently for him to continue. You figured that much already. “Jungkook’s father was killed.”

The breath left your lungs and you now understood why he didn’t return. You knew him well enough to know that he must be out there somewhere trying to deal with what he’s feeling, and from what you knew about him, he probably wasn’t coping well. Now you had to make sure he was okay. “Tell me where I might be able to find him.”

They tried to convince you to let someone else look for him and find him knowing he might not be in a good state, but you insisted that you would find him yourself. They gave in finally and mentioned several places he visited frequently, one of them being his home address, which you were thankful they trusted you enough to give to you, and you decided you would start there. You entered the address into your phone for directions since you had no idea how to navigate in this area of the city. Finally, you came to the house that the map had led you to, and it was a house just like any other that you had been passing for the past few minutes. You weren’t sure why you were expecting anything different.

When you carefully knocked on the front door, it creaked open ever so slightly from the little bit of force you gave. You pushed it open just a slight bit more, calling Jungkook’s name, hoping to find him inside. You received no answer though, which prompted you to take a tentative step inside as you pray that you got the right house and you weren’t accidentally walking into a stranger’s home.

Only a few steps in and you heard the crunch of glass underneath your shoe, and you looked down to find a picture that had fallen of the wall and smashed onto the floor. When you took a closer look, you saw a boy with familiar round eyes and you knew you were in the right house. As soon as you rounded the corner, however, you see that the living room and the kitchen had been trashed and torn to shreds, displaying a mess of broken glass and papers and trash scattered across the floors. Suddenly you suspected that the picture by the front door hadn’t fallen by accident.

After you had called out for Jungkook several more times, you concluded he wasn’t in the house. You began to look through your small list of other possible locations while leaving the house and carefully pulling the door shut behind you. You stopped in your tracks just as you reached the bottom stair when you heard a familiar voice, and after you searched, you found just who you had been looking for. Only, you weren’t expecting him to be threateningly pinning someone up against a wall.

You approached quietly, listening for what you hoped would be an explanation. You saw Jungkook had pinned a man by the collar of his shirt to the outside wall of a building in an alleyway just on the other side of the road from his house. “Are you one of them?” he screamed, interrogating the terrified man.

“One of who?” the poor man questioned, fighting Jungkook’s grip, though you were surprised he couldn’t escape given Jungkook only used a single hand.

Jungkook bared his teeth in rage. “The bastards that killed my father!” You approached slowly, calculating the best way to deal with Jungkook while he was in such a fragile state. Though your knowledge about this was limited, you knew for sure that this man had no gang affiliations just by looking at him and how he seemed as if he hadn’t fought once in his entire life. Throwing a beer bottle down, smashing it to pieces that violently scattered causing both you and the man to flinch away, Jungkook cried out, “I promise I’ll obliterate every single one of them!”

You took the chance to lurch forward and firmly take hold of his arm, hoping to bring him down from his rampage. Jungkook’s head snapped to you and the man used this distraction to escape his grip and make a run for it. Jungkook noticed and wanted to push past you and chase after him, but you blocked his path, though he kept fighting to pass you, blinded by rage and, from what you could smell in his breath, intoxication. “Please, Jungkook, calm down! I know your pain, trust me, but this isn’t the right way to handle it! Let me help you!” you tried reasoning with him.

He pushed your hands off of him, backing away. “Who said I wanted your help? Who said I wanted you to force yourself into my life and try to fix everything?” he spat. You shook your head in disbelief. “I’m perfectly fine! What makes you think I need to be saved?”

“Jungkook, I know you don’t mean that.”

“I do!” he shouted. His shoulders heaved and then the tension in his face began to melt. “I…” He spoke more unsurely now. Then he had dropped himself onto his knees, hands pounding into the ground. Worried he was hurt, you slid down beside him only for his arms to wrap tightly around your waist. His face buried into the crook of your neck and he began to sob. You were worried and you hurt for him, yet somehow you were also relieved knowing that he was finally able to let go of the idea that he had to always be strong. You soothingly ran your fingers through his hair as you let him stay there for however long he needed. “He’s gone,” he choked out weakly.

Jungkook never told you much about his father. In fact, he said that he didn’t see him much and that they weren’t close. You couldn’t tell if that had been another lie to keep you from knowing the truth or if that had been true and he felt this way purely from the fact that he had lost both of his parents now. Either way, you could tell he was broken. “It’s okay,” you whispered.

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me, _____.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him. There you both sat, in the middle of an alley, where Jungkook finally shed what very well could have been his first tear, and you knew that he needed you.

After seeing the state his house was in, you figured it wasn’t the best idea to let him return there alone for fear he might go off the rails again, so you let him come with you. You weren’t sure whether your mother would be home or if she would ever even notice if you kept him up in your room, but you were willing to face whatever she had to say if she were to find out, knowing this was about your only option. You had to support him on the way as he drunkenly stumbled through the streets at midday.

When you finally arrived home with him and led him up to your room, he collapsed in exhaustion on your bed. You looked over him in concern for a moment before sighing as you combed your fingers through his hair. You figured you would get him some water for when he woke up since he had consumed so much alcohol, but when you tried to leave his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back to him. “Don’t leave,” he mumbled. You glanced back at the door, but you ultimately decided to follow his request and stay with him.

You sat down beside where he laid, pulling your wrist out of his grip and sliding your hand into his to hold it comfortingly. You saw a hint of red on his face and squinted to get a better look, but you had to gently nudge his face to get him to turn to you from where he had it buried in the sheets to block out the light. You saw his lip was letting out a fair amount of blood and you began to get up to clean it up, ignoring his groan of protest as you left his side.

You came back with a cold, wet rag to press to his lip to stop the bleeding. You sighed, giving his body a once-over, seeing clearly he was in bad shape, both physically and emotionally. You set the rag aside again after a moment and went back to softly stroking his head. You whispered to him, though you were sure he was too far gone in sleep to listen to you by now, “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Please don’t do something reckless and get hurt.”

To your surprise his eyes barely fluttered open at your words before they closed once again, but he exhaled heavily, assuring you, “I won’t. I promise.”

When you woke up the next morning, the bed had been significantly colder than it had when you went to sleep. As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized it was because Jungkook was no longer there, sleeping beside you with you wrapped in his arms like he had been when you fell asleep. He must have left sometime in the middle of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You weren’t sure of he had completely sobered up yet, so you worried if he had gotten home safely or not. You called him, but he didn’t pick up. Then you texted him to ask where he was, thinking he probably wouldn’t answer that either, but to your surprise, he did. Although, all he said was ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m gonna be busy today.’ You knew something was going on, already, but you were immediately afraid for him when he followed with, ‘I love you.’

That was unlike him. He was possibly the least straightforward person you knew, so he only said that when he felt like he absolutely had to. And you were afraid of why he thought he had to tell you so suddenly.

Before you could barrage him with questions, you heard the bell ring at your front door, so you went to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be him. When you opened the door, it wasn’t Jungkook, but instead it was the man who had called Jungkook for the meeting and ultimately revealed the truth about him. He cleared his throat. “May I come in for a moment?” You hesitantly stepped back, opening the way fully for him to enter. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Namjoon. I’m a member of Jungkook’s gang.” He said quickly, lowering his voice at the last phrase. He seemed to be rushing through the formalities to get to the real reason he had come. “Have you seen Jungkook?”

The question took you by surprise. You had been hoping to ask him the same question, but since he didn’t know either, your nerves were anything but calmed. “No. When I asked him where he was, he texted me saying he was busy and not to worry about it.” You thought for a moment, licking your dried lips. “He sounded off, though.”

Namjoon nodded attentively. “I see. There’s a good chance my suspicions are correct, then,” he speculated, pacing noticeably.

“What suspicions?” You were almost afraid to ask. It was easy to see that Namjoon was tense, so you knew that it couldn’t be good news.

“I think he’s going to try to get revenge for his father.” Your jaw went slack in shock. “I think he wants to kill that gang’s leader.”

“What? What if he gets hurt?”

Namjoon exhaled slowly, rubbing his chin as he spoke, “If that’s the case, he’ll be going up against several members before getting to the leader, so the likelihood is high.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. What was he thinking going up against so many people all on his own? You began to panic. “Well, what are you doing here? Someone needs to go help him or stop him or something!”

Namjoon said with the tap on the screen on his phone, “I’m already on it. I’m sending backup for him right now. I’ll be going too.” He was already taking large strides to the door when he quickly turned back around to you. “Keep the doors locked and don’t answer the door unless either me or Jungkook have told you to,” he warned before shutting the door behind him.

Somehow his warning made you even more nervous. You were sure you had nothing to worry about for yourself since you were far away from where all the action would take place, but it clearly meant that he thought these people were dangerous. And Jungkook was going to face them all alone. You just hoped that his backup got there fast enough.

You had been trying to shake the thoughts out of your head for far too long until you began to feel cramped within the walls of your own home. Though you were aware of Namjoon’s advice, you decided to walk for a bit to clear your head and to get some fresh air. Surely no one wanting to hurt you would be brave enough to cross the river to the highly-secured side of the city. You had been wandering for a while, not paying much attention to where exactly you were going and instead following wherever your feet carried you as you watched the petals fall from the cherry blossoms in order to distract yourself.

Eventually you found yourself stopping just before the bridge. Just a few more steps and you could be crossing over to get Jungkook out of his mess once again, but he said it himself. It wasn’t up to you to save him. He’s going to be okay, you assured yourself. With eyes still glued to the opposite end of the bridge, you turned around to walk back home.

As you began the walk back home, you thought you saw a shadow of someone behind you, but when you turned no one had been there. You were sure it was only your imagination, but now you were starting to wish you had stayed at home as your nerves began to act up. You took up a quicker pace, finally deciding you were safe after you were walking with no interruption for a few minutes. Just as you were calming down, you jumped as the ringer of your phone blared in the thick silence of the streets. You breathed in relief as you brought it out of your pocket and read your mother’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hello?” you answered. She was asking where you were since you had told her you would be home for dinner with her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m coming home right n—” Your words were smothered by the gloved hand that latched itself over your mouth. You tried to tug yourself free and cry out for help, but your arms were only swatted away and your phone tumbled to the ground still on call with your mother. You frantically swung your feet in attempts to escape, but they were swept out from under you and you fell to the ground, your head hitting the pavement and darkening your vision until you lost consciousness.

Your head was pounding when you finally gained some awareness again. You could tell there were voices around you, but they were difficult to discern since your groggy state made everything sound muffled as if you were underwater, with the way it was muddled in your brain. It took a while to finally come to, but when you did, you could finally make out one of the voices as the very one you had been waiting for. When your eyes came into focus, you could make out Jungkook standing across a large room from you, pointing his gun at something to your right. You tried to turn your head to look despite the shooting pain in your neck from how you head hung down unnaturally. Your eyes met an unfamiliar man, also holding his own gun, but instead of pointing it back at Jungkook, it was directed at you. You tried to moved, but your limbs were bound to the chair you sat in.

You gulped, realizing the situation, most of your mind’s fogginess disappearing. “Look who’s finally decided to join us,” he observed, smiling sinisterly in your direction.

Jungkook briefly met your panicked eyes, but he diverted back to the man keeping a stone cold expression. “How did you find her?”

“You’re very reckless. How do you expect to take your father’s place?” At that remark, Jungkook’s grip tightened on his pistol and bared his teeth in anger. His finger twitched on the trigger and he was going to give in, but when the gun in the man’s hand was pushed closer to your temple, he brought the gun back down slightly in order to stop him from hurting you. The older man only chuckled. “You had such great potential to become a cold-blooded killer, an unstoppable machine, but instead you hold yourself back with these distractions.” The man tilted his head in indication of you as said “distraction.”

“The only person I’m looking to kill is you.”

“Are you sure you want to say that to me right now?” he asked, teeth bared and all easiness void from his tone. The mouth of the gun was now pushed harshly into your temple and you squeezed your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. Only a moment later, though, you no longer felt its the cold metal on your skin and you saw he had lowered it out of the corner of your eye. His face took on another chilling smirk. “You know, I could go ahead and kill her now… but then again, she would make an awfully pretty prize.”

Jungkook was fuming and, raising the gun once more and taking a risky step forward, he growled, “Don’t fucking touch her!” The man only stared back at him daringly, analyzing his every movement, the way his feet faltered in their placement on the ground, his hand just barely shook as he held out his gun. There was no way he would risk anything as long as you were in danger.

Suddenly there was a faint shuffle somewhere within the walls of the large warehouse you were held in and everything went silent as everyone went on alert, listening carefully. Suddenly, you flinched and your heart beat erratically as a gunshot ran through your ears, and it took a moment of panic to realize it hadn’t been directed at you. You turned to the side, seeing the man had dropped his gun and grabbed onto his arm in pain. His groan of pain was cut short by yet another bullet lodging into his thigh, causing his leg to give out on him and he fell to the ground.

Then a crowd of men came from the direction of the bullets, led by Namjoon who had been placing a handgun back into his waistband. Jungkook ran over to you to free you from the ropes that held you down, pulling out a switchblade from his pocket and cutting you free. When all of the ropes around you fell loosely to the floor you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his heart beating rapidly. He pulled away and his eyes travelled to your forehead. He carefully reached out to touch it and when his fingers barely brushed your skin, a pain shot through your skull. You brought your own hand up and felt what must have been dried blood. You hadn't even realized that had been there, but you deduced it must have been from when you fell to the ground during your kidnapping.

Jungkook lifted you out of the chair hastily with Namjoon by his side when commotion broke out in the back of the building. More men poured in from where Namjoon and the others had come, but they had their guns pointed at Jungkook’s men. Your feet slowed in their movements as you realized they were going to fight the men who had come to save you. Jungkook tugged you ahead and consoled you, telling you they would be fine, gesturing to the reinforcements coming in once Namjoon opened the front doors. As they passed by Jungkook, you figured they must be on his side. Taking once more glance back, you saw the other men retreating and dropping their guns as the soon realized they were far outnumbered and you briefly glanced at the leader who was still shuffling on the ground with his wounded leg. Jungkook had seen this, too, as he picked up his speed with you right beside him. You heard a gunshot go off and Jungkook roughly pushed you out the door. When you looked back inside as the three of you had finally reached safety outside, you saw no one else who had been injured, so you assumed everyone was safe.

You breathed heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off and your head began pounding because of your injury. You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally caught your breath, believing  the three of you had successfully reached safety, but you were quickly brought back to panic as Jungkook roughly leaned into the wall and let himself slide down to the ground, clutching his side. He hissed, lifting his hand and finding it stained crimson. You gasped and slid down next to him, Namjoon crouching beside you and examining the wound. You had been wrong when you thought that the gunshot had missed its target. No, it had hit exactly who it was aimed at, and that was Jungkook. A few men who had been in one of the many black vans parked outside the building came running over, carefully lifting Jungkook up from the ground and placing him in the back of the the van they had come from with a man with medical supplies waiting inside.

You followed behind them and stepped into the van when they set Jungkook down, not bothering to stop and wonder if they would even let you, but they did. The man grabbed scissors out of the case and cut open Jungkook’s shirt, blood seeping through the white material at an alarming rate. HIs shirt was pulled back to reveal the ragged gash in his side, and you had to look away. You found his hand in yours, however, and he squeezed it tight which felt like reassurance to you, but it was most likely because of the pain.

After a while of you silently staring out the window and Jungkook every so often hissing in pain, the bullet was removed and his torso was wrapped in a bandage. You finally looked back at him, relieved to see the job looked to be well done. Jungkook tried to readjust himself into a sitting position but immediately regretted it, groaning lowly and letting himself back down to lay where he had been before. You brushed your fingertips over the back of his hand and sighed as you watched his brows twitch.

Your head whipped towards the doors as Namjoon swung them open and climbed inside the back, sitting on the opposite side of Jungkook’s legs. He looked down at him with a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes hardened as they were suddenly directed at you, and the unpleasant frown took full form when he met your eyes. “I told you to stay inside!” Namjoon scolded. “That was all you had to do, but then you just had to get yourself caught.”

Jungkook, who still looked fairly worn out, did not miss Namjoon’s comment. “What?” he questioned, looking at you, and under his stare you couldn’t keep guilt from bubbling up to the surface. “You knew what going on and you still put yourself in danger?” Your lips pressed together in a tight line. His voice that was still weak, but you could tell he was trying to raise it.

You huffed, retorting, “What was I supposed to do? You had me so worried! Jungkook, you told me just last night that you wouldn’t do something reckless and get yourself killed! Then I found out you were going on some crazy revenge mission. You lied to me! Again! How long are you going to keep this up, Jungkook?”

“I’ll keep it up however long it takes! Be honest, _____. If I had told you what you wanted to know, would that have changed anything? No! You still would have done something stupid!” His fists had tightened and the veins in his arms protruded.

“Why are you getting mad at me?”

“Because you almost got yourself killed, that’s why!” His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, not enough to be painful, but it held you securely. His hands shook and you just now realized how fearful his face appeared. His voice lost its momentum and lowered to just above a whisper, “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today. I can’t let anything happen to you.” You could only swallow at his words, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand that was still clasped onto your own. He sighed, defeated and resigning, “I know I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

“But that’s the thing. You keep doing it. You keep lying because you think you have to, but you don’t! Please don’t lie to me anymore. There’s nothing you have to hide from me anymore.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

That was the last of what you said to him. He couldn’t promise you that the lies would stop. You weren’t sure if that meant he still didn’t trust you or that you couldn’t trust him. You were in too deep for that, though. It’s not easy to give your heart away to someone without trusting them with your life. You tried to relieve your thoughts plaguing your mind through a deep heave of a sigh as you quietly closed the front door behind you. Your mother came running to the door at the sound. You thought she’d be at work.

She pulled you into a crushing hug before pulling away and inspecting the bandage that had been put on your head and interrogating, “Why did you disappear all of a sudden? And what happened to your head?”

You pulled her hands away. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“No, _____, you have to tell me what happened. I heard that over the phone! You can’t tell me nothing happened!” she rambled frantically, cutting you off once again before you could even anwer her. “I was so worried, you know that! I even sent the police out to look for you! Can you imagine how scared I was when they brought back your cell phone they found lying in the street, but they said there was no sign of you anywhere around it?” She slammed your phone down on the kitchen table without breaking eye contact with you. You could see her eyes become shiny.

You looked away and hesitated to give her an answer. “There were some problems… But I swear I’m alright. Jungkook—”

“I knew it!” she burst out. “I knew this had something to do with him! I’ve always known being around him would put you in danger!” You tried to speak up in his defense but she stopped you with a motion of her hand. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked since your father’s been gone to keep us at the top? I only want to give you the life you want, but you’re ready to throw your life away for some low life boy off the streets!”

You screamed back in retaliation, “Don’t say that about him!” She gave you that look that she always does when you raise your voice at her, but this time instead of cowering away, you used her stunned silence to say what you’d wanted to say for far too long. “Do you really think I care about the money? I couldn’t care less if I didn’t have this big house or these expensive clothes! I just want my mom back.” She was still silent to your surprise and the tension between her angry eyebrow faltered only slightly.

Her voice was much more level now as she turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him.” She made her way out of the kitchen, only stopping once more in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. “Please. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your shoulders slumped with your labored sigh as you watched her retreating back. You didn’t miss her trembling lip. You supposed you never thought too hard on the emotional toll that encumbered your mother throughout this situation. In no way was she innocent, but you, too,  were far from being in the right. Maybe you had been the selfish one all along, you thought, making your way up the stairs to your bedroom with guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You found the dress you had finally decided on for the gala laid out on your bed. You rubbed the soft fabric between the pads of your fingers in thought. What were you thinking, asking Jungkook to come to the gala with you? Neither him nor your mother wanted that. It was only what you wanted.

You picked up your phone and quickly called his number without another thought. After several rings too many, the line on the other end connected. “_____?” he answered, his voice sounded gruff and exhausted.

“You weren’t asleep were you?” you worried. He made a small grunt which you were sure was supposed to mean no, but you knew it wasn’t true. He needed to rest to heal, after all. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing alright... Better.”

“That’s good,” you said, trying to make your way into the subject you had called about. “Listen, you probably forgot about it by now...”

“The gala’s on Saturday. I know. I promise I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

“Actually, I was going to say that you probably shouldn’t go.” You gnawed at your bottom lip, waiting, as it was suddenly silent on his end.

“Why?” he finally asked, sounding more aware and perturbed than you would have expected.

“Well, you need to heal. It would just be better if you didn’t go.”

“I’ve healed in less than a week before. I’ll be fine.” You didn’t say anything. He was suddenly so determined to go with you after you practically had to beg him when you first told him about it. “Why don’t you want me to go?” You could hear the frown on his face. You couldn’t understand why he was getting so upset.

You gave a weak chuckle in hopes to lighten the mood. “Why do you want to go so badly all of a sudden?”

He ignored your question. “Did your mom say something?” You clicked your tongue in response, but he knew you well enough to know that meant that you didn’t want to answer the question. He chuckled dryly. “Are you serious? I thought you weren’t gonna let your mom stop you from doing what you want from now on.”

“I know, but this is… different,” you found yourself whispering into the phone. It suddenly felt like you were talking behind your mother’s back.

“Oh, then what is it? Is it because you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me by all the rich heirs?” He now carried an accusatory tone. He always had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions.

“Of course not! You’re being ridiculous!”

“Then why don’t you want me to go?”

“I’ve just... been insensitive to my mom. I just don’t think it’s the best idea.”

“Insensitive to her? Have you forgotten how wonderfully she treated me?”

You’d had it then, groaning as you hung up the call. You threw your phone down on the bed and went to get changed in the bathroom. You heard your phone vibrate from its place on the bed and you could just barely make out Jungkook’s name across the top of the screen, but you didn’t make a move to answer it. It took three more missed calls until he finally gave up.

It was a petty, stupid fight, and yet it was Saturday and you hadn’t heard from him since your last phone call. You tried to tell yourself you were just giving him time to rest and recover, but in reality, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. You wondered if he regretted it as much as you did.

The nerves fluttering in your stomach as you thought about the gala you were getting ready for made you begin to regret telling Jungkook not to go with you. You lightly brushed your fingers through your styled hair and took one last look in the mirror, scrutinizing the way the dress hung on your body. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had seemed before. It looked duller and you wished the skirt wasn’t so plain and lifeless. You weren’t sure what you had seen in it in the first place. You heard your mother call for you from the first floor, and on your way down you checked your phone one last time, but you still saw no notifications with Jungkook’s name on them.

You followed your mother into the limousine that drove you to the venue the gala would take place in, watching as you drove by the entrance to the bridge, wondering what Jungkook was doing on the other side. The rushing waters of the river seemed wider than ever.

You arrived at the gala much faster than you had hoped and found that many guests had already arrived. You walked in beside your mother, receiving several greetings and warm smiles, some looking more genuine than others. You made your rounds for a while, chatting with some of the other heiresses your age that you had known for years because of events just like these.

Eventually the crowd started to loosen up and the gala became more of a social gathering than a business meeting as most of the guests had already gone through a few glasses of wine. You chose to opt out of having any alcohol, though part of you wanted nothing more than to get drunk so the night would go by faster. After you finally got a break from conversation, you excused yourself and went down the hallway to the bathroom where it was much quieter and less crowded. You tried to pass by a man that you barely paid any mind to, but he reached out for your arm to grab your attention. “_____?” You turned and found that the face of the man that said your name was one that you were sure you had seen before, yet you couldn’t put a name to the face. “I’ve been looking around for you all night!”

You returned his charming grin with a polite nod of your head. “Oh yeah! I was wondering if I would see you tonight.” You were lying through your teeth and you were hoping it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit since I saw you last,” he said, looking you up and down. You chuckled nervously as his eyes lingered just a hair too long, especially now that you could smell the strong scent of alcohol on his breath after he had taken a step closer to you. “You know, we’re both set up to take over pretty powerful companies. I think we should try to get to know each other more—”

You frowned stepping back to regain your preferred personal space. “I’m sorry. That’s not something I’m looking for.”

You began to walk away, but his loud, gruff voice followed you, “You really shouldn’t cut someone off when they’re speaking! I think you should show me a little bit more respect!” He glared at you, clearly waiting for something, though you weren’t sure if what he wanted was an apology or just for you to say yes to him.

“And I think you’ve had too much to drink and that you’re a self-entitled prick,” you retorted. “I think you should get back to the party and leave me alone.”

He growled as you brushed past him, and he started to pursue you, but he was stopped short by a voice coming from behind both of you. “Hey. You heard her, man. Get out of here,” the voice ordered. You turned around to find Jungkook dressed in a suit and tie and with a flower in hand. The man only observed him incredulously until Jungkook sneered at him, making him finally give up and leaving only the two of you in the hallway. Jungkook’s glare finally softened once his eyes that had been watching intently as the man left found their way to your own. You hurried over to him, wrapping him in a hug and releasing a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “This is exactly why I wanted to come and I still let this happen. I didn’t want you to have to deal with guys like that.”

You stopped him, shaking your head to assure him you were fine. “No, no. I don’t even care about that. I’m just glad to see you again.” Your eyes trailed down to observe the black suit he wore, admiring how good he looked, but also chuckling at how out of character he looked. You weren’t complaining, though. Your gaze travelled to the flower he held in his hand and a grin spread across your face. “What’s this?”

You could see his cheeks slightly tint while he tried to explain himself. “It’s just an… apology, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, holding the flower out for your to take. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad about something so stupid. I promised I’d be here and I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, too.” You twirled the stem between your fingers. You grabbed his hand again and pulled him along with you. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this party.” You rounded the corner only to be met with your mother, skidding to a stop to prevent from colliding into her. “Mom.”

She sighed, and you were afraid you were going to have to face another lecture, but she surprised you by pulling you into her arms. “I heard someone raise their voice, and then I heard you… I got so worried.” She let you go and turned her eyes to Jungkook, looking upon him for the first time without contempt. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently after hearing how _____ talks about you. So I want to say thank you, Jungkook, for being there for her. I know there’s nothing i can say or do to make up for what I’ve said about you in the past, but I can tell that you love my daughter, and that’s all I want for her. I’m sorry for how horrible I’ve been to you.”

You looked between him and your mother. Jungkook’s words faltered for a moment, but eventually he just said simply, “Of course. I’ll always be here for her.”

Your mother gave a soft smile. She shook her head. “Don’t let me stop you. Go ahead and go. You’ve been here long enough,” she insisted, directing the last part to you. You smiled brightly and thanked her and the two of you headed out.

You two ended up sitting back in your usual seats at the counter at Roy’s. It didn’t exactly get you away from a rowdy, loud scene, but it was comfortable. You two were still in your clothes for the gala, so the old diners were teasing the both of you, saying you looked like you could get married right then and there. You were embarrassed, but you were also proud of how far the two of you had come. You were still by no means perfect. You two were a mess. A beautiful mess. The kind of mess that isn’t burdensome, that you don’t want to clean up because in it are beautiful memories of a time when all is perfect, like old family picnics with cream covered pies and messy little children who impatiently dig right in. “We’re kind of like a pie,” you looked up at Jungkook from where your head laid on his shoulder.

“What are you saying?” he broke out into laughter. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners and his nose scrunched up, it was beautiful.

“I don’t know. I’m just thinking.” You looked around. The neon lights that shone on the jukebox. The perfectly shaped swirl of whipped cream atop your shared milkshake topped off with a bright red cherry. The old couple sitting in a booth on the other side of the diner. It was all so beautiful. You’d never seen so clearly in your life up until this moment.

[lost-stargazer-girl]

|| A Step at a Time||

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: eventual!OCxOikawa

Word Count for this Chapter: 2054

*Author’s note and other chapters listed at the end*

Chapter 3: Shadow’s Mark

She is always hiding. Not in the conventional sense of course, though many often ponder what “conventional” could mean in this day and age where the impossible can become reality. The girl learns the importance of masks, their necessity for her survival in a world where many often see through children instead of at them and their suffering. She, in turn, allows herself to melt into the background and observe. “Children are like sponges,” as the saying goes. The girl embraces this, lives by it, and becomes it. 

Babies, the girl learns, are the only true things in the world. They express themselves freely, never hesitating to scream and cry or laugh and smile. She envies them. The girl, Akane, doesn’t remember ever being that carefree. Was there a time when she didn’t have to worry about appearances? Expectations? She doesn’t remember and so, she moves on.

Children, Akane muses, are brats. Most don’t know how to control or identify their emotions. Well, most. Akane is five when she witnesses a child having a tantrum in the toy section of her grocery store. She is shopping for her family while her parents are preoccupied at work. She’s never been in the toy section and doesn’t really see the appeal, to be completely honest. She would rather spend that money on food and snacks, her parents never let her have snacks or candy like most kids get. 

Teenagers, she grates within her mind, are some of the most arrogant and aggravating stains in the world. Akane is playing tag in the park with the olive-eyed boy, Hajime, when two pretentious teenagers trip her to the floor as she is running. “Oh?” one of the boys mockingly muse, “the little princess tripped! Her poor appearance is ruined now!” The boys start to laugh at her as she rises from the ground and dusts herself off. She gazes at them for a moment, long enough for them to stop laughing and smirk at her as their eyebrows raise in a challenge. Akane only flashes blindingly white teeth in a disarming smile as she kicks both of the boys in their jewels and walks away as the boys crash to the ground to groan and yell. She has better things to do, she thought, as she catches a glimpse of brown, spiky hair running toward her. 

Adults, young and old, are confusing. So many say one thing but do another, she notes. With a steady crimson gaze, Akane watches the various behaviors of those in the park. Hajime is not there to play with her but that’s okay, she can keep herself busy. Adults are more controlled, she realizes. But that makes their tells all the more obvious to her. She observes smiles and eyes and eyebrows and the entire facial and body expressions of each and every adult she could in the park. She discerns fake smiles from real smiles, a flash of joy in the eyes to the flash of anger, and so on until she is able to completely read whoever she sees. It’ll come in handy for her, she knows. 

… 

Oikawa Tooru feels annoyance buzz through him as if it were a second skin. While he still flounces through the halls with his million dollar smile and greets his fangirls with the usual amount of enthusiasm and encouragement, he boils from within. There are very few things that Oikawa lets bother him to this extent, and this situation is a big one.  

As he bounds to his homeroom class, Oikawa passes by Iwa-chan. “IWA-CHAN,” he pouts, “why didn’t you wait for me today so we could walk to school like we usually do? Where were you at practice yesterday and this morning? You know as my vice-captain, now that our third years are graduating, we need to show our dedication to the sport and be good role models to our kohai!” The brunette finishes his rant and takes a deep breath. He places his hands on his hips and stares imploringly at his best friend, the source of his current distress. 

Iwa-chan only stares at Oikawa with a deathly calm stare. “Get out of my way,” he grunts and walks past the gaping brunette, making sure to hit Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. The setter could only stare after his best friend’s back in complete confusion. He hadn’t done anything to evoke such a response from Iwa-chan. The olive-eyed boy may have a gruff and rude manner towards him, but he’s never been dismissive. Iwa-chan knows Oikawa hates nothing more, not even Kageyama or Ushiwaka, than to be dismissed. 

Clenching his hands into fists, Oikawa struts off to his homeroom. Fine, he thinks bitterly, if Iwa-chan wants to be that way, then so be it. His irritation had not lessened throughout the day, only increasing with the rumors of that girl still going around and the absence of his best friend. 

The last bell of the day rang. Oikawa stays in his seat until the rest of his class leaves, waving and shouting words of farewell to the appropriate people. With the classroom now empty, the setter allows himself a sigh of aggravation as he slumps in his seat and crosses his arms irritably. He needs to get a grip before practice. As captain and the “goofball” of the Seijou volleyball club, he needs to be able to maintain his cheerful attitude. Oikawa takes a few deep breaths before slapping his face with his hands and smiles. He collects his items and bounds off for the changing rooms. 

… 

Akane Kagami grimaces slightly at the broad back of one Iwaizumi Hajime. She trails after him on her crutches slowly, knowing he would notice if she tries to escape. The view of the gym becomes closer and closer, along with Kagami's growing anxiety. The black haired girl timidly taps her friend's back, "Haji, do I really have to come? I can just wait for you at the bench by the entrance gate, it's fine with me." The girl is frantically attempting to convince the male that this whole event is completely. 

Hajime stops and turns to Kagami, he regards her for a moment before quirking up an unimpressed brow, "You and I both know I'm not dragging you to my practice just because it's convenient. I would've just walked you home and walked back here, it doesn't bother me one bit. But the thing between you and Shittykawa has got to stop." Kagami watches as he turns back around and resumes striding towards the gym. It's a little funny how much more ominous the building becomes to her. "And plus," he continues gruffly, "I promised to take care of you, I'm not gonna let my asshole of a best friend bully and demean you. You do enough of that to yourself anyway." 

The girls stops abruptly and stares after Hajime as he continues on his way to the gym, still processing his words. She squeaks suddenly before blushing a bright shade of crimson, nearly matching her intense eye color, and stumbles off to catch up to the boy as best she could on crutches. Hajime stops walking when he reaches the entrance door of the gym, having already changed before meeting up with the red eyed girl, and waits for Kagami to catch up. She does so, huffing irritably up at him. 

“Can you walk without those yet,” he questions, eyes going towards the instruments of pain holding her up. “It won’t really be a problem, but I don’t want you to slip on the gym floors.”

Kagami rolls her eyes and hisses, “I told you I can walk without them for short distances, you just won’t let me.” Crutches are a pain, especially when one doesn’t fix them by adding cushions and such like Kagami. She hates her crutches in every way possible, even if they do help with her upper body strength. She likes being able to help herself, having others do things for her is a blow to her pride. Kagami only relies on herself and a very small amount of people, including Hajime. 

Flashes of a small room filled with shadows and a small, lonely girl looking in a mirror make her wince. Kagami shakes her head desperately to ward the images from her mind as a callused hand gently grabs her scarred one and squeezes in reassurance. Her eyes shoot up to meet the steady ones of Hajime. She idly notices how a small beam of sunlight manages to shine in his eyes for a split second before he blinks at the sudden brightness. It is only for a second, but Kagami is left in awe at the kaleidoscope of colors the olive eyes hold. Shades of forest, mint, chocolate, and gold are revealed in that split second and leaves her breathless. She squeezes back and drops his hand, gesturing towards the door with a swipe of her palm and a determined gaze. Hajime grins wickedly at her before confidently pushing the gym door.

The bright lights of the gym blind Kagami for a moment, causing the girl to blink rapidly before placing both crutches in one hand and limping inside. She has her black gym shoes with gold highlights on, she rarely ever has a chance to use them since moving back to Miyagi from Tokyo. The nostalgic sounds of volleyballs being spiked and shoes squeaking on the gym floors hit Kagami and causes a smile to light up her normally disinterested features. As Hajime enters before her, calls of his family name begin to ring out in greeting along with the sounds of volleyball practice. However, as she steps inside, the sounds stop. 

Kagami’s palms begin to shake as her nerves get the better of her. While she’s a fairly confident person now compared to her childhood years, she still has problems being the center of so many gazes. Especially when those gazes belong to giants that could possibly cause her arms to break off if she tries receiving their spikes. Quickly scanning the boys with a practiced eye, the girl shakes off her distress and bows in front of them with her hands crossed on her legs respectfully. “Pardon the intrusion,” she exclaims. “Please continue your practice and disregard my presence!” Silence reigns after her introduction as Kagami continues to bow. 

“Oi,” Kagami glances up as she hears Hajime irritably huff at the gawking boys. “Stop slacking off and get to work already, we’ve got to be ready for the Inter-High in couple of months and for any incoming first years!” The girls releases a sigh of relief as the comforting sound of practice resumes around her, that was pretty awkward. She straightens and sends a small smile towards Hajime as the boys turns to look at her from his protective stance a few steps in front of the girl. He grins back in response and sends her a thumbs up. 

“Well, well, well, Iwa-chan,” a silken voice purrs behind Hajime. “You’re not one to bring girls to practice, what a surprise.” Kagami watches in fascination as irritation extinguishes the fondness in her friend’s eyes and a vein begins to show its appearance. She glances down and yeup, Hajime’s hands are clenched so harshly that his fists have whitened. “Well, Iwa-chan? Aren’t ya going to introduce me to your girl-- ITAI!~” Hajime whirls so fast that the other boy has no time to dodge the fist coming his way. “Mean, Iwa-chan,” the boy exclaims as he grips his head soothingly. The boy, tears building in his eyes, sniffs pretentiously at Hajime before tilting his head slightly to look at the girl. Kagami, already knowing who the boy is, stiffens in response and waits for it. It takes a second for Oikawa Tooru to realize just who he is gazing at, but Kagami sees the shine of recognition gradually enter his eyes. Along with the rage. “What is this,” he seethes, whirling towards Hajime with flashing eyes and a gritted smile. 

Kagami winces at both the vehement tone and the sound of her friend’s fist finding its home on the top of Oikawa-senpai’s head. “This,” Hajime responds with matching venom, digging his knuckles more harshly into the brunette’s head as if he could smash manners into it, “is Akane Kagami, Shittykawa. A close childhood friend of mine, so you better damn well treat her nicely.”

*Author’s Note*

AHHHHH~ Sorry this chapter took so long to be posted *prayer hands* I hope you guys enjoy reading it as it is my longest chapter yet. Some of it may seem like it’s pretty unnecessary but I thought they were pretty relevant to knowing more about Kagami’s character hehe!

P.S. Can y’all let me know if I’m linking the chapter’s right? It looks right but idk *shrugging motion*

~ Prologue ~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~

[kristenritchings]

Deleted Scene from Blue

               My senses started drifting back to me. I was warm and comfortable. I could smell salt and something else, something like sandalwood and…vanilla? I moaned happily and turned on my side as this soft surface seemed to mold to my body. I wanted to stay in this state, in this place, forever. However, you can’t pause time, and I knew better than to waste life not living in the moment. I slowly opened my eyes. A bright light hit me as I blinked rapidly and waited for my vision to adjust to the sunshine. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the beautiful blue ocean laid out in front of me. I was in a bathing suit lying on a towel surrounded by clean white sands.

               I should be freaking out since I couldn’t remember falling asleep here and didn’t recognize this beach at all, and yet, I wasn’t. I was getting pretty used to waking up in strange places. Plus this was the purest and most beautiful beach I had ever seen.

               My eyes drifted to the left, and I realized I wasn’t alone. There was a man, a beautiful man. I couldn’t control the feelings that rushed through me as soon as I laid my eyes on him. The sight should have struck fear in my heart; I should be absolutely terrified, but sweet lord, I wasn’t. My heart palpitated as it filled with so much love a lump formed in my throat. Devotion, gratitude, lust, respect, and countless other emotions raced through my veins as I took in the sight of him. He was wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else, lying on a towel beside me. He had a book lounging against his perfectly sculpted chest with one hand propping it up as his other arm resting casually behind his head.

I’m impressed with my own restraint as I keep the moans and drool inside of my body. The sex appeal was oozing off this man in buckets. His arms and chest were adorned with droves of sigil tattoos for gods’ sakes.  

“Oh, you’re awake,” the man spoke as he slipped a bookmark into his novel before closing it.

He turned on his side to face me, and I froze. It was startling for me to hear him speak. My eyes finally moved up to his face. Gods, he was breathtaking. He had brown hair hanging slightly in his face, dark blue eyes, strong facial features and a jaw that could cut glass.

“Babe?” he asked as his eyebrows knit together in concern.

Babe? I was this man’s babe? I quickly cleared my throat to speak, but all I could manage was a strangled, “Huh?”

He began laughing, a low throaty sound that sent chills down my spine. I gasped for breath when I realized I needed air. “Weird dream?” he asked as he leaned closer to my face. Concern swam through his dark blue eyes.

“Uh-” I quickly cleared my throat again. “Uh, no, I’m fine.”

He smiled softly, his gaze melting with an emotion I couldn’t read. His hand reached out to grasp mine as he pulled it up to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I love you so much, my dear wife.”

  “Hell!” I shouted as I bolted up in bed. I panted as my heart hammered in my chest. I surveyed my surroundings as I attempted to calm myself. I was in my own bed again, the place I had actually fallen asleep. My lamp was still on, exuding a warm glow, and I was slick with sweat.

My head fell into my hands as I struggled to regain control of my breathing. What the hell was that? It was clearly a dream but it didn’t feel like one. It felt so real, so vivid. I truly experienced all of that. This was starting to become a regular habit. Maybe I needed some sort of sleeping pills.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. 8:00 AM. I’d been asleep for almost three hours this time.

I dragged myself out from between my sheets and found a dry shirt to change into. I took my time cleaning up in the bathroom as I tried to still my racing heart. I was confused and terrified but also excited. I returned to the bedroom and turned off my lamp before slipping into a pair of sweats.

I took a deep breath as I braced myself to face the new day. I pushed through my door and walked into the living room.

My two roommates stopped chatting immediately when they noticed me from their spot on the couch.

“Good morning, Indie!” Lillian chirped. I glared at my friend as I took in the sight of her. Lillian Jackson was a woman who never stepped foot out of the house until she was meticulously prepped. Nails always done without a single chip, hair styled to perfection, makeup flawless and clothes picked out to accentuate her essence. She was a vixen with an attitude, and I could never get over how immaculate she looked in the mornings. This blue-eyed blonde bombshell put me to shame in more ways than one.

I grunted in response as I made my way to cuddle up in the armchair across from them. I pulled my knees to my chest and rubbed my eyes as I attempted to adjust to the light in here.

“You’re just in time, Indigo,” Layla smiled as she sipped on her mug of breakfast tea. “We were just discussing some important things, like scheduling a training session.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” I shrugged. “It doesn’t affect me yet.”

“Yeah, well you should still be around for the lessons. Just because you can’t participate yet doesn’t mean you can’t learn,” Layla pushed. I stared into her light jade eyes and scowled. Layla Evans was the epitome of calm and collected. She had a gentle but firm air surrounding her. Lay’s tan skin was adorned with vibrant tattoos and she sported black shoulder-length hair that usually had color hidden throughout. She was mysterious and shy.

“Fine,” I scoffed. “Just pick a time and I’ll tag along.” I could never say no to Layla. She was too good for this world. She had a smile that let anyone know she was a woman with a kind and gentle soul.

“Your powers won’t stay dormant for much longer. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Layla cooed.

“Who’s worried about it? I’m fine,” I persisted.

“Universal language for not fine,” Lillian shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

“I’d love if we could just drop this,” I groaned. “It’s too early for this.”

“All I’m saying is, I know you’re feeling vulnerable right now, but there’s no reason for it. Clark and I were early bloomers and Layla’s powers just surfaced a year ago,” Lillian interjected as Layla remained decisively silent.

“Lay didn’t even know she was going to be gaining abilities!” I hissed. “But I’m fine. I mean, it’s not great waiting, but it’s fine.”

In reality, I was pissed. I wouldn’t tell them that since it wasn’t their fault, but my situation had well passed ridiculous. We were all part of a small minority of magical folk that spanned across the world. We could harness the power that existed in the universe. We were born from ancient families with the same gift in our blood.

I remember when my parents sat me down and explained the ways of the world to me. It wasn’t long after that we packed up and moved out to California. I was about fifteen when my mother insisted I belonged near similar folk like her dear old friend and her new family. Enter Lillian, my predetermined friend. Luckily, it worked out well. Though, her powers activated less than a year after we met.

Layla was Lillian’s longest friend; they went back to primary school. To say her powers activating last year was a surprise to everyone was an understatement. She never knew her father, so no one had any idea that magical blood flowed through her veins. Luckily she had the right friends.

And then there was Clark. He moved into the area a bit before I did without his parents. He also hailed from the South. It wasn’t long before we discovered we were hiding the same secret. He told us his powers had activated at 13, which was basically unheard of.

Here I stood, 21 years old, feeling like a dud, a magical anomaly… A disappointment to my parents.

“I don’t mind tagging along,” I broke the silence. “I guess I might as well learn before I can practice.”

Lillian perked up as my shoulders slumped in defeat. “That’s the spirit!”

I retreated into the kitchen for a cup of tea as I heard someone knocking on the door. Probably one of Lillian’s lovers. I filled our kettle with water as I heard her move to answer the door. I sifted through our cabinet looking for my favorite mug as I registered movement behind me.

I spun around to and my gaze landed on my hunk of a best friend, Clark Knight. He stood there like a total enigma. His broad shoulders blocked my view into the room behind him as he leaned against the empty doorframe. His short black hair was neatly swept and his dark brown eyes twinkled with affection as crossed his arms and frowned. “Doesn’t Lill know I’m a busy man? If she called this meeting for something that could’ve been discussed over text again…”

“I’m really not sure why you expect more from her at this point,” I shrugged as I turned back around and dug out my favorite vanilla blackberry tea.

“You’re right,” he gave a pained sigh. “Well I’m not hanging around all morning again. If you want a ride to campus with me you better be ready to leave soon.”

“Oh fuck you, impatient,” I scoffed as I took the kettle off the stove and began to pour my cup. “Actually, I think I’m gonna hang back today.”

“What does that mean?” I could hear the frown on Clark’s face as I busied myself looking for honey in the cabinet. His voice lowered as he came further into the kitchen. “Did you have another dream?”

“Fuck, man,” I slammed the honey onto the counter before whipping around. “Why is everyone up my ass this morning?”

Clark threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry to have brought it up.”

“Thank you,” I nodded. “I’m just trying to have a stress-free day.”

“Gotcha,” he backed away. “I’m gonna go see what Lillian wants now.” Clark booked it out of the kitchen to escape my foul mood as I took my time behind him.

I came out to find Lillian seated beside Clark on the end of the couch. She was leaning closer and closer to him as she spoke, practically about to fall into his lap. Anyone with eyes knew that Lillian was desperately in love with Clark. For some reason, he never returned the affection. No one knew why, considering she was sheer perfection. They would make a great couple; they were both so attractive, a blonde blue-eyed beauty with a tall, dark and handsome man. It was a match made in the heavens.

I ignored the lonely pang in my chest and strolled in to join the conversation.

“Oh, Blue, you’re just in time to hear Lillian tell me about how she dragged me down here to talk about something we could’ve just texted about,” Clark shot me a look with his eyebrows raised.

“Sounds important,” I nodded as I hid my smile by taking a sip of tea. The fruity tang of the berries in the tea along with the sweetness from the vanilla helped to immediately lift my mood as the fragrance wafted through my nose.

“Look, Lill, I’ve got to get to school early today,” Clark started as he stood up from the couch and took a step back. “I’ll text you about this after I get there.”

“Okay,” Lillian nodded as her eyes dimmed a bit.

“There’s something I want to show you in the truck, Blue, if you can spare a moment of your time,” Clark nodded towards the door.

“I guess,” I shrugged as I followed him out the door with my mug in my hands. He walked me around his truck and opened the door for me. “What is it you want to show me?” I asked skeptically as I made no move to get in.

“Just get in and I’ll show you,” Clark sighed. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

I took a sip of my tea as I eyed him. “Are you trying to kidnap me and force me to go to my classes today?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Clark rubbed his temple.

I thrummed my fingers against the warm ceramic of my cup as I took in his casual appearance. He wore a pair of jeans with a t-shirt and gave off the air that he was too good to be spending his time like this.

I shrugged as I stepped into the truck and relaxed back into the upgraded leather. As he closed the door, I admired how good his car always smelled. There was something so comforting about the smell of leather and pine. I had many wonderful memories inside this truck.

Clark jogged around and climbed into the driver’s side, slamming the door shut.

“So what’s up?” I asked again. I swallowed and snuck a peak over at him.

I watched his mouth slowly turn upwards as his dark brown eyes dragged over me. My breath caught as his sharp gaze stripped me to the bone. A devastating smirk flew across his lips as his gaze left mine. “You’ve been acting so weird lately. I just wanted to hang out for a minute before I’m due to my first class.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a pre-rolled joint.

“Oh, sweet,” I beamed as Clark snapped his fingers and a small fire erupted from his fingertips. I met his gaze as he held the jay in his lips and put his flaming fingers to the end of it. The familiar sound of his snap followed by crackling flames helped to set me at ease. He got it rolling before passing it to me.

I brought it to my lips and took a small drag as Clark broke the silence. “So what’s been bothering you?”

I paused to listen to the silence of our conversation as Clark took a puff. “What happened between you and Lill the other night?” I stammered out quickly before I lost the nerve to ask. “It’s just that when things are weird between you two, they’re weird for all of us. Layla and I included.”

“What are you talking about?” Clark frowned as he passed me the joint and coughed. “Nothing’s ever happened between us.”

“Oh bullshit,” I rolled my eyes and inhaled a puff of smoke. “I don’t truly believe that you just happen to arrive earlier than I wake up on several occasions. I think you just wake up here.” I blew out a smoke cloud and watched as it wafted in his direction.

He reached over and gently gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. Our lips were mere inches apart, and I watched the corners of his mouth twitch as he purred, “Would I lie to you?”

“Just because you haven’t yet doesn’t mean you never will,” I laughed as I wriggled from his grasp and took another hit.

He chuckled as I passed the jay back. “Listen, I know Lill is pretty…intense when it comes to me. I pretend to be oblivious to spare her feelings because it’s not something I reciprocate. I don’t make a big deal about it because I don’t want her to feel embarrassed or unwanted or anything like that. Make sense?”

I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched him roll down his window to ash. “She doesn’t even talk to us about it,” I confided as I leaned back in the seat.

“Oh yeah?” he handed me the joint.

I nodded as I took a slow drag of the harsh smoke that caused my body to feel numb. “She doesn’t hide it well, of course. But it’s not something she wants to talk about, I guess.”

“Maybe she’s not comfortable with you guys knowing she’s having trouble getting something she wants,” he suggested with a wink as I passed it back.

“Yeah, probably,” I conceded as I watched him take a long hit.

The smoke began to filter out of his nose as he exhaled. “So what else has been on your mind, blue eyes?”

I scoffed as I watched him pull out a pocket ashtray and disposed of the lit roach. I contemplated telling him about my latest dream that had felt so real, but my confused feelings complicated things. Something inside me that I couldn’t quite tap down was telling me not to burn this bridge. I had a feeling he wouldn’t take this well.

“So…was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Clark pried in a soft tone.

I chewed on my lip; I was still torn on telling him about my dream. He’d been so touchy when I discussed my realistic dreams lately. “I, uh-” I cleared my throat. I should tell him.

Before I could work up the courage I was interrupted by a loud ringing. I jumped out of my skin at the alarming noise that broke the quiet atmosphere.

Clark shot me an amused look as he reached into his back pocket to grab his phone. “What’s up?” he answered. A small smile spread across his lips as he listened to someone on the other line. “I guess she left it in the house,” he laughed as he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand and stuck his tongue out at me.

“Uh-huh…uh-huh,” his tone changed as he let out a small sigh. “She’ll be back in a minute…. I’m not going to be late for class.” His face clouded over with annoyance as he rubbed his brow. I met his gaze as I heard a faint voice speaking nonstop. After a moment Clark rolled his eyes, pulled his phone away from his face and hung up.

“Did you just hang up on someone?” I laughed.

“Yeah,” Clark smirked. “Lillian. She was telling me I need to head to class.” He shook his head and glared out the window. “She better get her jealously under control. I can’t even spend time with my best friend without her harassing me about it.”

“You better get going before she realizes you hung up on her and comes out here,” I laughed as I opened my car door.

“We’re not even together!” Clark growled, helpless. “And I’ve given her no reason to think…” he rubbed his temple.

“Sorry, man,” I shrugged. “Better stop making women fall in love with you.”

“If only it were that simple,” he shook his head. “She said she tried to call you first, by the way. You should really keep your phone on you.”

My hand flew down to my back pocket where I usually kept my phone. “Yeah, yeah,” I played it off as my fingers felt my phone case. “Have a good day of classes,” I chirped as I hopped out of the truck.

“Have a good day off,” he smirked as I slammed the door shut.

I walked towards the front door as I listened for him to back up and drive away. As the sound of his tires pressing against the asphalt faded away I pulled my phone out. I hadn’t heard or felt it ring. My suspicions were confirmed as I showed no missed calls. I rolled my eyes as I put it away and walked back into the house. Any excuse for her to talk to Clark.

-Kristen Ritchings

[fabricati-diem-pvnc]

Effeminate submission vs. narrative control: Harry ‘Bunny’ Manders

Note: Over the course of #rafflesweek, I will post five excerpts from my master’s thesis on E.W. Hornung’s Raffles stories. While each part can be read on its own, I recommend reading them in the order they are posted.

This is Part 2.

(Please see the end for footnotes and works cited.)

Bunny as the “New Man”

A. J. Raffles subverts the gentleman ideal by blurring the lines between gentleman, dandy, and common criminal. In contrast, Bunny’s1 subversion of the concepts of late-Victorian masculinity is markedly different. Firstly, Bunny falls short of many of the character traits traditionally considered ‘manly’ by his contemporaries. Contrary to Raffles, Bunny is not an athlete: he is terrible at sports in general and cricket in particular. In “Gentleman and Players”, Bunny is aghast when Raffles presents him as a skilled cricketer to Lord Amersteth: “‘What are you thinking of?’ I whispered savagely. ‘I was nowhere near the eleven [during my time at school]. I’m no sort of cricketer.” (Hornung 2013: 34). Bunny’s nickname, bestowed on him by Raffles, expresses this as well: in cricket terminology, a ‘bunny’ (or ‘rabbit’) is a team member who bats poorly (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-ides-of-march/>)2.

Bunny’s poor sportsmanship is accompanied by a general lack of physical strength. In “To Catch a Thief”, he tries to threaten Lord Ernest Belville with a revolver, but is soon overpowered by him: “His hand was on the top of mine, bending it down, and the revolver with it. The strength of it was as the strength of ten of mine […].” (Hornung 2013: 181). Just two pages earlier, Raffles had actually picked Bunny up because he wasn’t moving quick enough to hide himself: “[…] he picked me off my feet and swung me bodily but silently into the bedroom […].” (Hornung 2013: 179). Raffles repeats this act in “Out of Paradise”; in the story, Bunny’s shoes make too much noise on a gravel path, so Raffles decides that he must carry him across: “[…] Raffles, with me in his arms, crossed the zone of peril softly as the [leo]pard.” (Hornung 2013: 240).

The act of carrying a person across a threshold – the bedroom in “To Catch a Thief”, the entrance to the house in “Out of Paradise” – strongly suggests the image of a groom carrying his bride across the threshold on their honeymoon. The feminisation of Bunny by the narrative doesn’t end here, though. In fact, Bunny’s appearance, character and general demeanour are rife with traditionally ‘feminine’ traits. Fair-haired, slim and rather young-looking for his age3, he is repeatedly perceived as being ‘innocent’ or ‘naive’ – a feature Raffles considers indispensable for the safety of “the firm” (Hornung 2013: 45). Bunny also expresses disappointment at being unable to grow a proper moustache: “My straw-colored moustache, grown in the flat after a protracted holiday, again preserved the most disappointing dimensions, and was still invisible in certain lights without wax.” (Hornung 2013: 200)4. While Raffles tends to show a remarkable amount of self-confidence and bravado even in the face of danger, Bunny tends to doubt himself and is prone to emotional outbursts (Green 2003: xlv). One of these outpourings of emotion occurs in “The Chest of Silver”; when Bunny realises he has been duped by Raffles yet again, he says: “I could have rent my garments in mortification and annoyance with myself and Raffles.” (Hornung 2013: 251). The most striking example of Bunny’s effeminacy, however, is his temporary transformation into a woman in “The Rest Cure”.

In the story, Raffles and Bunny pursue a curious sort of holiday by squatting in the house of Colonel Crutchley, who is spending the summer months with his family in Switzerland. Raffles calls it his own version of a ‘rest cure’5: he spends his days working on perfecting his disguises and his nights reading huge tomes of history books (Hornung 2013: 264-266). While Raffles manages to grow a “flourishing beard” within just two weeks (Hornung 2013: 267), Bunny’s own facial hair remains stubbornly thin; consequently, to prove to Raffles he can pull off a disguise just as well as him, Bunny engages in a painstaking act of cross-dressing. He curls his rather long hair into “an almost immodest fringe”, puts on a skirt and a feather boa, dons a “big black hat with a wintry feather”, and even applies a layer of powder to his face (Hornung 2013: 267). His disguise as a woman is so convincing that, when Bunny is unexpectedly confronted by the owner of the house, the man actually believes Bunny to be a woman: “A woman, begad! […] [W]here’s the man, you scarlet hussy?” (Hornung 2013: 268). On the one hand, the success of Bunny’s cross-dressing further enforces the effeminacy of his outward appearance. On the other hand, Hornung’s use of this trope also recalls the New Woman writings of the early 1890s, where cross-dressing was a common plot element (Kucich 1994: 262-264). The “New Woman” transgressed gender boundaries by claiming access to the ‘male’ sphere of society, which turned her into the threatening spectre of the homme-femme for her male contemporaries (Rance 1990: 8). As Bunny transgresses gender boundaries into the opposite direction, he forms the counterpart of the mannish woman – the femme-homme –, which has led O’Brien to identify him as an example of a “New Man” (O’Brien 2015: 663).

The other side of the coin

Additionally to his being a metatextual foil to the concept of the New Woman, within the narrative Bunny more directly functions as a foil to Raffles. Some of their antithetical character traits – for instance, manly vigour vs. effeminacy – have already been pointed out. Regarding their outward appearance, Bunny’s straw-coloured hair contrasts nicely with Raffles’ black locks, and Bunny’s innocent looks are set against Raffles’ more inscrutable features: “Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs […]. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale, sharp, clean-shaven features; his curly black hair; his strong, unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful eye, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain – sifting the very secrets of my heart.” (Hornung 2013: 6; emphasis added)

Another difference between Bunny and Raffles is based on their relative strength of character: while Raffles has found a method to balance the financial demands of a life of leisure with the secret thrill of criminal exploits, Bunny has not been so successful. In “The Ides of March”, the reader is introduced to Bunny as a dissipated young man who has squandered his inheritance on an extravagant lifestyle, horse-racing, and gambling. After he has lost a considerable amount of money at a baccarat game and signed over worthless checks to the winners, Bunny is desperate. Terrified of losing face, he would rather commit suicide than own up to his mistakes: “The barrel [of the pistol] touched my temple, and my thumb the trigger. Mad with excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to make an end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that I did not do so then and there.” (Hornung 2013: 4). Bunny’s inability to manage his finances persists even after he has “joined felonious forces” (Hornung 2013: 17) with Raffles. In “The Rest Cure”, Bunny still hasn’t paid off his creditors, and he again looks to Raffles for getting him out of these dire straits: “[…] my balance at the bank was sorely in need of another lift from Raffles.” (Hornung 2013: 260). Raffles, on the other hand, is never shown having to struggle with debts or creditors6.

Bunny also displays a weakness of character in his attitude towards drinking alcohol. Raffles has a strict rule of having only one drink at night, a rule he very rarely violates7; when he is about to commit a burglary, he doesn’t drink at all. He expresses this principle in “The Ides of March”, where he refuses a drink offered to him by Bunny with the words: “When we come back […]. Work first, play afterward.” (Hornung 2013: 8). Raffles repeatedly advises Bunny to follow his lead, for instance in “A Costume Piece”: “Mind, only one drink to-night, Bunny. Two at the outside – as you value your life – and mine!” (Hornung 2013: 25). Far from heeding Raffles’ advice, however, Bunny is frequently shown to abuse alcohol, a behaviour that was highly suspect at the time as alcoholism was believed to facilitate mental illness (Taylor 2007: 15). Bunny constantly ignores Raffles’ example of abstinence when committing a crime. During his dinner with the Australian legislator in “Nine Points of the Law”, Bunny drinks several glasses of wine while, at the same time, Raffles is stealing a painting next door (Hornung 2013: 80). In “A Trap to Catch a Cracksman”, Bunny is forced to come to Raffles’ aid after having spent the night out drinking with another friend; his being drunk seriously impedes his ability to get Raffles out of the eponymous trap he has been caught in (Hornung 2013: 326). At one point, Raffles even comments on Bunny’s unhealthy drinking habits. In Mr. Justice Raffles (1909), he tells Bunny about his taking the waters at Carlsbad spa8: “[…] mud-poultices and dry meals, with teetotal poisons in between […]. You stiffen your lip at that, eh, Bunny? I told you that you never would or could have stood it […].” (Hornung 2013: 371; emphasis added). While some of these instances may be excused as social drinking, Bunny himself admits that there are times when he drinks to ease emotional pain. In “The Raffles Relics”, Bunny drinks copiously to try and deal with his worries over Raffles, who he fears has been caught by the police: “There was a bottle at my elbow, and that night I say deliberately that it was not my enemy but my friend.” (Hornung 2013: 357).

While it is important for Bunny that their burglaries turn out successful, his role in them is usually quite passive. The idea for a coup almost always originates with Raffles9, and Bunny rarely gets the chance to take an active part in their planning. Raffles persistently sidelines him by withholding important information, thus sending him blind into their adventures more often than not (O’Brien 2015: 661). More than once, Bunny’s ignorance actively endangers Raffles’ safety. In “A Costume Piece”, for example, Bunny nearly blows Raffles’ cover because he doesn’t know his plans (Hornung 2013: 23). Still, Raffles insists on keeping important facts from his partner in crime. Bunny deeply resents this secrecy and complains about it frequently, but it changes nothing: the asymmetry in their partnership remains10.

“I fagged for you at school”

Part of the reason for this power imbalance lies in their shared history: when Bunny and Raffles first met at school, Bunny acted as a fag for Raffles.

‘Fagging’ was an important part of the public school system. Put simply, a ‘fag’ was a junior boy who had to perform various tasks of servitude for a senior boy; these included domestic tasks such as cleaning the senior boy’s room or helping him with his studies (Hornung 2003: 141, note 3). In Raffles’ case, Bunny obviously had to prepare (at least part of) his homework: “[…] I recollect fagging you to do my verses […].” (Hornung 2013: 3). The philosophy behind this master-servant relationship was that, “by first serving and then being served, a young man who was likely as an adult to command subordinates learned about the relationship from both sides” (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-ides-of-march/>). This history of subservience, coupled with Raffles’ superior knowledge and skills regarding crime, certainly explains the power imbalance early on in their adult relationship (O’Brien 2015: 656). One might argue that the experience Bunny gains from their criminal exploits should be enough to undo this asymmetry as the years progress. However, this is where Raffles’ tendency for secrecy comes in: by excluding Bunny from most of the planning stage, Raffles denies him the self-confidence he might have otherwise gained from a shared responsibility in executing their felonious deeds. The division of their criminal partnership into a proactive, planning part (Raffles) and a more passive part expected to follow blindly and obey instructions (Bunny) also recreates the power imbalance of the traditional patriarchal family unit (Purchase 2006: 64-66), with Bunny taking the part of the woman.

Even though Raffles does the bulk of the work for their exploits, he always insists on dividing the loot equally between himself and Bunny, even when Bunny has had no actual part in the burglary itself. This makes Bunny desperate to prove his worth to him: “It was my passionate desire […] to ‘keep up my end’ with Raffles in every department of the game felonious. He would insist upon an equal division of all proceeds; it was for me to earn my share.” (Hornung 2013: 334-335). Yet when Bunny actually tries to take the lead for once, it ends in disaster. His plan to rob his childhood home in “The Spoils of Sacrilege” leads to them being cornered in a turret, with the only way out being a possibly fatal climb down a lightning conductor. They survive the climb, but Bunny is so ashamed of his poorly thought-out plan he never dares suggest another one (Hornung 2013: 334).

An unlikely Boswell: Bunny’s struggle for narrative control

While Bunny’s role in his relationship with Raffles is clearly a subservient one, his position as narrator is more complex. Firstly, there is Bunny’s self-characterisation as a “most unworthy Boswell” (Hornung 1984: 179), which is a reference to the actual James Boswell, who was the friend and biographer of English writer and lexicographer Samuel Johnson. More importantly, though, the term brings to mind the relationship between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “A Scandal in Bohemia” (1891), Sherlock Holmes famously says to Watson: “Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell.” (Doyle 2003: 243). By providing Bunny with the same epithet Watson is awarded, Hornung subtly draws attention to the similar modes of narration: both the Sherlock Holmes and the Raffles stories are told in the first person by one of the two protagonists, and both Watson and Bunny fulfil the role of narrator as well as focaliser (O’Brien 2015: 657).

While the function of Watson and Bunny as biographer to their respective friends may be similar, the outcome is markedly different. Holmes may not reveal every deduction he makes at once, but he always ends up explaining them to his audience in plausible enough detail (Symons 1985: 67). Raffles, on the other hand, conceals so much from Bunny that he isn’t just hampered in his role as partner in crime, but also in his role as Raffles’ biographer. There are several instances in the stories where Bunny is forced to speculate on Raffles’ true motives. More often than not, the result is a case of wishful thinking on Bunny’s side. In “Wilful Murder”, for example, Angus Baird – one of the receivers of stolen goods Raffles has dealings with – has discovered Raffles’ true identity. To keep his cover, Raffles decides to kill the man but is beaten to it by another of Baird’s victims. When Raffles keeps looking at the corpse without saying a word, Bunny interprets his stare “as a man might stare into an abyss after striding blindly to its brink” (Hornung 2013: 66), implying that the confrontation with an actual murder victim has shook Raffles to the core and cured him of his murderous impulses. This interpretation is disproven later in the story, when Raffles is shown to envy the murderer for his experience: “[…] I should have endeavored to [enjoy the situation] in his place […].”(Hornung 2013: 70)11. Raffles himself is quite aware of Bunny’s tendency to turn him into a hero, both in his mind and in his writings about their experiences:

“’I know what I am,’ said he, ‘but I’m afraid you’re getting a hopeless villain-worshipper!’

‘It’s not the villain I care about,’ I answered, meaning every word. ‘It’s the sportsman behind the villain, as you know perfectly well.’

‘I know the villain behind the sportsman rather better,’ replied Raffles, laughing when I least expected it. ‘But you’re by way of forgetting his existence altogether. I shouldn’t wonder if some day you wrote me up into a heavy hero, Bunny, and made me turn in my quicklime!’”

(Hornung 2013: 484; emphasis added)

Bunny’s deliberate attempt to paint Raffles in a more positive light is directly referenced by him in the opening to A Thief in the Night (1905). The Black Mask (1901) had ended with Raffles’ death in South Africa, so in the third book, Bunny’s only resource of more stories is their shared past: “[…] I can but go back to our earliest days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in existing annals.” (Hornung 2013: 234). Since Raffles is dead, Bunny feels free to reveal their more heinous episodes: “The whole truth cannot harm him now. I shall paint in every wart. Raffles was a villain, when all is written […]. I have dwelt unduly on the redeeming side. And this I may do again, blinded even as I write by the gallant glamour that made my villain more to me than any hero.” (Hornung 2013: 234)

Despite Bunny’s claim to “paint in every wart”, A Thief in the Night contains even more of Bunny’s and Raffles’ more light-hearted exploits than the previous volumes. Stories like “The Criminologists’ Club”, where Raffles’ break-in is merely intended to put Lord Thornaby in his place, or “The Field of Philippi”, where Raffles steals money from a former schoolmate only to then donate it in his name, depict Bunny and Raffles more like “gentleman pranksters out on a spree” (Rowland 1999: 177) than hardened criminals.

O’Brien has pointed out that, as the stories progress, “[…] it becomes increasingly clear the whole series is, in effect, Bunny’s fictional ordering and reconstruction of events.” (O’Brien 2015: 664). While Bunny may not have had much control over the events as they transpired, as narrator he does have the power to reconstruct them as he pleases. By depicting Raffles as a somewhat heroic figure, Bunny attempts to make his loyalty to Raffles seem less perplexing. The less villainous and amoral Raffles appears, the more opportunity is awarded to Bunny to paint himself in a better light. Thus, as a narrator, Bunny has finally turned the power imbalance in his relationship with Raffles in his favour. As O’Brien puts it so succinctly: “Inside the stories Raffles is master; at the level of narration Bunny rules.” (O’Brien 2015: 664).

Footnotes:

1‘Bunny’ is merely a nickname, but it is the only name the reader is given for 25 of the 27 stories. His full name is not revealed until the very last of the Raffles stories: in Mr. Justice Raffles (1909), the reader learns that Bunny’s last name is actually Manders (Hornung 2013: 406). His first name had been established in the story directly preceding the novel – the ultimate story in the collection A Thief in the Night (1905) –, where a letter written to Bunny addresses him as “Harry” (Hornung 2013: 362).

2Bunny’s poor performance as a cricketer is based in part on E. W. Hornung’s own lack of sportsmanship. Due to his ill health, Hornung’s nickname at Uppingham School was ‘Dodo’ (as in, “as dead as a Dodo”) (Green 2003: xviii).

3Bunny is about four years younger than Raffles. “The Field of Philippi” reveals that, while Bunny and Raffles did go to the same public school, Bunny was only in the Lower Fourth when Raffles was already in the Upper Sixth (Hornung 2013: 290, 295). Boys in the Lower Fourth were usually about 13 to 14 years old, boys in the Upper Sixth about 17 to 18 (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-field-of-philippi/>).

4This passage also contains another reference to The Picture of Dorian Gray: “I had sustained no external hallmark by my term of imprisonment, and I am vain enough to believe that the evil which I did had not a separate existence in my face.” (Hornung 2013: 200; emphasis added).

5At the time, a ‘rest cure’ was a method of therapy involving bed rest, enforced silence, and seclusion (Morrissey 2014: <http://www.rafflesredux.com/the-rest-cure/>). It was predominantly prescribed for women and has been immortalised in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story “The Yellow Wallpaper” (1892).

6While Raffles does run into trouble with one of his receivers of stolen goods in “Wilful Murder”, his problem is not based on lack of money but on the man having gleaned his real identity (Hornung 2013: 61).

7One of the exceptions occurs in “Le Premier Pas”: “I tell you what though, this is an occasion in any case, and I’m going to celebrate it by breaking the one good rule of my life. I’m going to have a second drink!” (Hornung 2013: 47).

8Raffles’ idea to take the waters at Carlsbad – a famous spa in Bohemia – also reflects the obsession of the early-twentieth century middle class with health and hygiene (Kemp/Mitchell/Trotter 1997: xii).

9The only exception occurs in “The Spoils of Sacrilege”, when Bunny, desperate to prove himself to Raffles, suggests burgling his own childhood home (Hornung 2013: 334-335).

10The futility of Bunny’s complaints can be gathered from an exchange in “The Return Match”: “‘He wrote to you! And you never told me!’ The old shrug answered the old grievance.” (Hornung 2013: 86).

11Raffles had expressed the very same sentiment in an earlier story, where he commented: “[…] I have often thought that the murderer who has just done the trick must have great sensations before things get too hot for him.” (Hornung 2013: 16).

Works cited:

Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories. Vol. 1. New York: Bantam Classics, 2003.

Green, Richard Lancelyn. “Introduction.” Raffles: The Amateur Cracksman. E.W. Hornung. Ed. Richard Lancelyn Green. London: Penguin, 2003. xvii-xlvii.

Hornung, E.W. A.J. Raffles – The Gentleman Thief Series: The Amateur Cracksman; The Black Mask; A Thief in the Night; Mr. Justice Raffles. Leipzig: Amazon Distribution GmbH, 2013.

Kemp, Sandra, Charlotte Mitchell, and David Trotter, eds. Edwardian Fiction: An Oxford Companion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Kucich, John. The Power of Lies: Transgression in Victorian Fiction. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994.

Morrissey, Genevieve L., and Sarah Morrissey. Raffles Redux. 2014. 16 January 2016. <http://www.rafflesredux.com/>.

O’Brien, Lee. “Wilde Words: The Aesthetics of Crime and the Play of Genre in E.W. Hornung’s Raffles Stories.” English Studies, 96.6 (2015): 654-669.

Purchase, Sean. Key Concepts in Victorian Literature. Palgrave Key Concepts. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

Rance, Nick. “The Immorally Rich and the Richly Immoral: Raffles and the Plutocracy.” Twentieth-Century Suspense: The Thriller Comes of Age. Ed. Clive Bloom. Insights. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1990. 1-21.

Rowland, Peter. Raffles and His Creator: The Life and Works of E.W. Hornung. London: Nekta, 1999.

Symons, Julian. Bloody Murder: From the Detective Story to the Crime Novel, a History. 1972. Rev. and updated ed. Middlesex: Viking, 1985.

Taylor, Jenny Bourne. “Psychology at the fin de siècle.” The Cambridge Companion to the Fin de Siècle. Ed. Gail Marshall. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. 13-30.

[dralentines-day]

Gift #3, @touune

Hey @touune, this gift really touuned in to all my drarry cravings - good thing it's for you! 

Our gifter says:

“Here’s some growing together sweetness. Kind of fluff near the end, barely any dialog. Have a nice Dralentine’s!”

Untitled -  Harry hadn’t known that a certain blond man would be living down the hall from him. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad. Maybe. 2046 words.

Tags: no smut, some mentions of PTSD

Harry would never have rented the flat if he knew who lived down the hall. He really wouldn’t have signed that lease if he had known. Yet here he was, staring at a blond man who was all too familiar looking.

Draco, surprisingly enough, had continued to wear a silver and green scarf that had a small snake embroidered onto one of the ends. The scarf was actually what had made Harry realize exactly who lived down the hallway. It had been lying on the hall floor, and since there was only one other flat besides his on the floor, he knocked on the door, scarf in hand.

When Draco opened the door, he was disheveled , hair sticking up in odd places just like Harry’s own head of hair. A look of pure joy crossed the taller man’s facial features when he saw the scarf Harry was holding. He must have been looking for it. Draco had snatched it out of Harry’s hands,holding it close to his chest, closing his eyes softly.

Draco’s mouth opened slightly, eyes opening as well, as if to speak, perhaps say thank you, but it omitted no sound. That essentially covered what had previously happened, and Harry briefly replayed the scene in his mind before Draco actually spoke.

“Potter.” It was silly how Harry still got goosebumps on the back of his neck when the Slytherin boy said his last name just so. Harry lifted a single eyebrow, smirking as he always did when Draco referred to him as such.

“Thank you.” Draco whispered loudly enough for Harry to hear, and before the emerald eyed man could respond, the door was shut in his face. Harry stood in front of the door, dumbstruck at Draco’s last minute words. Sure, it was only two syllables, and if anyone else had said such, Harry would have smiled and shrugged it off. But this wasn’t anyone, this was Draco Malfoy. This was the man who had held such a high-and-mighty attitude throughout their school years, taunting Harry and his friends.

So why was Draco being nice? ‘It must be that he has grown as a person,’ Harry reasoned to himself as he trudged back towards his own apartment.

‘I have changed, as have Ron and Hermione, so why couldn’t he have?’He thought as he shut the door behind him. But Harry had an inkling that there was something else. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

—–

He just couldn’t put his finger on it, much less his hand. The dead mouse lay on its back, empty eyes staring into the open air. Harry couldn’t bring himself to shove the dead animal aside, and he had only ran back to his apartment because he had left his wand inside. But now the outside door was guarded by the vermin corpse.

It took Harry a few moments to notice that the pale Slytherin was standing next to him. Their eyes met, looked at the animal, and then at each other again. It seemed that Draco was afraid, too. This was a bit of a revelation to Harry, realizing that the other man wasn’t as bold as he’d acted in their school years. ‘But revelations come every day,’ He told himself, trying to reason with the fact that something about Malfoy, of all people, surprised him.

Draco knelt down, grasping a stick roughly a metre long, and stood up fully once more, looking at Harry shyly. Harry didn’t know he could blush at a shy look from Draco. The day was full of new information for him, now wasn’t it?

The mouse body was tossed aside when the blond shoved it to the far right with the stick, off the cement step. Smiling at the shorter man, he turned  away, and pulled the door open, holding it. Harry quickly walked through it, Draco following. They ascended the stairs slowly, side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against the other man’s hands.

When the reached their floor, the third one, Draco moved towards his own flat, but stopped moving when Harry spoke.

“Malfoy!” Draco pivoted back at him, a puzzled look claiming his face. “Thank you.” Draco smiled.

—–

Draco stood in front of him, the door open, his hand still on the knob, as if it could be closed in his face at any second. The invitation hung in the air, the thick tension holding it there. To anyone else, the invitation to a party being hosted by The Chosen One himself would be immediately accepted. This wasn’t anyone, though.

A Slytherin at his party would cause unrest between the friend groups. A former death eater, even, might be accepted, as a form of apology. But this was the man who had insulted his best friend as a first impression.

Draco stared Harry in the eyes, attempting to decipher if this was a lie of his. Harry knew that Draco would find no lies within him. Harry ran an open hand through his messy hair, twisting through the knots and split ends. A half-smile presented itself on the pale man’s face as he softly nodded. The odd smile was reflected on Harry’s face.

Draco’s hand left the door knob.

Harry’s hand left his hair.

Their eyes remained trained on each other.

—–

The two men sat awkwardly next to each other. Their arms pressed together in a not entirely unpleasant manner, though neither of them would ever admit it. The photo booth was cramped, and neither could admit why, exactly, they had thought it would be a good idea. Alcohol had this kind of effect on the two.

They made a confused face for the first two photos, obviously not expecting the muggle picture booth to work so fast. The third one was of the duo laughing at their own stupidity, Harry’s eyes twinkling with a threat of joyful tears.

The fourth was them both looking at eachother, cheeks slightly blushed, slight smiles gracing their faces.

When they exited the muggle bar (which Draco had only accepted the invite to because he was already slightly drunk, and Harry had only invited him because he was in a similar situation) they both had one of the rolls of photos in their pockets.

It had been nice for the two of them. Harry was not hoarded for autographs and pictures. Draco’s dark mark was nothing more than a cool tattoo. They were just people in those brief moments. Two men bonding over drinks to cloud their vision and their brains.

They hadn’t dared to apparate back to their flats, and since the bar had only been a few blocks down from their places of residence, they simply walked down the road back. They less walked, really, just stumbled, but the two barely noticed.

When they had returned to their hall, they parted with promises to do such a thing again, the anonymity addicting, in a sense.

When Harry got to his room, he shoved the picture into the bottom of his sock drawer, as if it were a dirty secret that he had to hide from imaginary roommates.

Draco did the same thing with his copy.

—–

Whenever Harry had parties, or small get-togethers, Draco was invited. Whenever Draco was invited, he was there.

Soon enough, his presence was welcomed within Harry’s group of friends. There were a surprising number of people there that had not been in Gryffindor. Even more surprisingly, He didn’t stay with them whenever he was over. He tended to stay by Harry. He told himself that it was because he knew Harry best out of everyone else.

Draco began to be invited to other people’s parties, and soon enough he was invited to the annual Weasley/Granger New Year’s party.

The doorways had all been covered in multicolored streamers. The bushy-haired one, or Hermione, as he had begun to call her, had welcomed him with a warm hug. He had become more used to these friendly kinds of closeness- in the Malfoy household, nobody liked to be within a two-foot radius of him. This kind of warmth was welcome.

Harry spotted Draco near immediately, and waved him over. He and Draco spent most of the night talking, holding oddly-colored drinks that were more than just spiked. He would never be exactly sure how they had ended up together, alone, on the roof, but that didn’t change the fact that it was where they had been.

The sky was dark with the faintest touches of royal blue, and twinkling stars dotted it. The stars weren’t the only twinking things Draco had been staring at. Harry’s emerald eyes stared into his as they exchanged words, less than they had earlier. They turned away from each other when they heard explosions. Draco knew they were fireworks, and smiled at the colors that flooded the sky.

He turned back at Harry when he heard heavy breathing. The darker man’s face was contorted into an expression of horror. Draco’s hand reached for the other man’s shoulder. Harry shied away from the touch.

Of course. The war. Draco had been used to explosions by then, a side-affect of being raised by a loyal death eater. But Harry? He looked as though he was having a flashback to something terrible. Without a second thought, he grabbed Harry’s hand, and apparated to his own flat, not caring about apparating while tipsy.

Luckily, the apparation was a success, and the two were unharmed. Harry looked confused, and tears flooded his eyes. He must have still been trapped in his mind. Draco led him slowly to his bed, and eased Harry down onto it. He knelt down and put his arms around him.

It was an awkward position, Draco half-standing over Harry, who was lying down and curled up, but he didn’t care. Draco didn’t care when Harry’s tears soaked through his favorite part shirt. Draco didn’t care when Harry put an arm over him and sobbed louder. Draco didn’t care when Harry tried conversing with him parseltongue. Draco didn’t care that when he tried to pull away, Harry had asked him to stay, half-conscious.

Harry didn’t care when Draco stayed and held him.

—–

They never ended up talking about that night. Harry had woken up with his face buried in Draco’s chest, and Draco had woken with Harry in his thin arms. Neither of them moved for a while.

They didn’t speak for two weeks after that. They had seen each other in the hall. They had ignored each other in the hall. They had walked up the stairs together. The had stood on opposite sides of the stairs.

It was a rainy Tuesday night when they spoke again.

Harry had been having a nightmare- it was the same every time, but this time it was so much more real. People had died. He could have stopped it. This was the price of war. When he woke, he knew it was true.

He had not woken due to his own death, as he usually did. He had woken to a hurried “Alohomora!”.

Harry grasped for his glasses. When his vision was cleared, he saw Draco’s form stumble into his bedroom. Draco leapt towards Harry, landing on the shorter man’s lap, crying. Harry was pushed back, and fell flat.

Draco held Harry tight in a warm embrace, as if he could fade away at any moment by darco just letting go.

“Why are you here?” Harry inquired, staring at the man above him.

“I heard you screaming. I thought you were hurt.”

“You could have knocked.”

“Then I could have lost you if something was happening. I don’t want to lose you.”

Harry let Draco stay. They awoke in a position similar to the one they had found themselves in two weeks previous. Neither of them spoke of it for a very long time. But they continued to wake up in each other’s arms. Sometimes it was fully clothed, other times, not so much.

Draco’s things slowly began to fill Harry’s room, and vice versa. Neither of them kept a single toothbrush by their bathroom sinks anymore. They both had an extra pillow on their beds.

And a set of four photos, all lined up vertically, were taped to each of their bedroom walls.

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