We Vibin' n' Writin'

you flashed michael a look of pure desperation while waiting for the next question — a silent, increasingly frantic plea for rescue. michael, for his part, didn't move an inch to help. if anything, the faint crinkle near the corners of his eyes suggested he was having the time of his life watching you suffer.

you shot him a deeply unimpressed look in return. you were one more “so… how difficult is it dating the most famous man in the world?” away from chewing directly through the microphone cord.

the interviewer sitting across from you smiled politely while glancing down at her cue cards.

internally, you braced yourself.

“alright,” she said brightly, “so to end on a lighter note…”

oh thank god.

“…how many cats do you actually have?”

your mouth fell open, agape in shock. for a second, you simply stared at the interviewer as though she had personally descended from heaven to deliver salvation.

and then, instantly — and i mean instantly — your entire demeanour changed.

your posture straightened so fast it was amazing your back didn’t give out. light returned to your eyes with near biblical immediacy, like saul struck by revelation on the road to damascus. for the first time in hours, genuine life returned to your face.

“finally,” you breathed emotionally, placing a hand against your chest in actual relief. “some good fucking journalism.”

a bewildered sort of stillness lingered across the set before everything immediately broke.

somewhere behind the cameras, michael nearly disappeared into himself with a startled wheeze.

“pardon me—” the interviewer coughed, half-dying from her sudden loss of composure, “you’ve been waiting for this question all day, haven’t you?”

“you have no idea.”

you were already digging frantically through your custom hermès kelly with the kind of determination that suggested you knew exactly what you were looking for, even if nobody else did.

michael lifted his head just enough to watch you with visible joy. he knew exactly what was coming.

“no, because nobody ever asks about them,” you continued passionately while wrestling with your dangerously overstuffed bag. “everybody always asks about him—” you gestured vaguely in michael’s direction without actually looking, both hands still occupied with your search, “—which, okay, fair enough. he is my husband and i love him, but i also have children.”

“they’re cats,” michael called from off-camera.

you finally looked up properly just to glare at him in complete offense. “well excuse me sir, they are my emotionally complex dependents.”

the interviewer had fully abandoned any sort of professionalism at this point.

“oh my god, please show us.”

you beamed brightly at her enthusiasm. “gladly.”

finally, you managed to yank out a concerning avalanche of photographs from seemingly out of nowhere — several fluttering straight onto the floor in the process — before immediately beginning to sort through them. once you found the photo you were looking for, you immediately shoved it directly into the interviewer’s face with impressive speed.

"okay, so this one is his excellency attorney general meatloaf — or meatloaf for short."

you held up a slightly blurry polaroid of an aggressively round cat loafing on a windowsill, the edges of the photo worn from being handled so frequently.

“he likes to loaf a lot, hence the name. he’s actually perfected the art of the tuck; no paws visible, no tail, just one singular furry orb.”

a brief silence settled over the room as you regarded the photograph with profound seriousness. “and he bites people when he gets overstimulated, but honestly? i respect that about him. i wish i could do that. if i bite people when i get angry, i get the police called on me.”

the interviewer was already crying.

michael physically turned away from the cameras, hiding behind the producer next to him with one hand clamped tightly over his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the high-pitched giggles threatening to derail the entire recording.

another photograph appeared, slapped down onto the coffee table with the dramatic flair of a high stakes poker player revealing a winning hand.

“this is baron von murderpillow.”

"amazing name," the interviewer managed to chortle out.

“thank you. he earned the title during the great sofa cushion uprising of ’92. allegedly, he’s wanted in several states for crimes against upholstery. for legal reasons, i must refrain from elaborating any further.”

another.

“clovernhorn, destroyer of mars.”

“why does that one look evil?” the interviewer asked, leaning in to squint at the tiny, grainy image of a grey, puff ball plotting intergalactic war from the comfort of a sunbeam.

“no he’s not.” you deadpanned.

another.

“the devourer.”

the interviewer looked down at the tiny cat photo again as if hoping she had somehow misheard you. “you named your cat ‘the devourer’?”

“he once swallowed an entire chicken wing — with bones — without chewing. quite possibly one of the most upsetting things i’ve ever witnessed.” you explained with a shudder of remembered horror.

by this point, even the camera crew had started laughing audibly, the boom mic dipping slightly into frame as the operator fought for his life.

“and finally,” you said reverently, your voice dropping to a theatrical whisper as you carefully extracted the final, slightly bent polaroid from the very bottom of your bag. you held it daintily with both hands, as if the photo would crumble with a single breath.

“jim.”

the interviewer leaned in, perhaps expecting a regal sphynx or sleek siamese to round out the eccentric collection. instead, she stared at the photograph for a long moment before completely losing it.

“just jim??” she wheezed.

you looked down at the photo adoringly, ignoring her hysterics. jim was, undeniably, just a cat. he was a vibrant, classy shade of orange, captured in a state of total, empty-headed bliss while wedged awkwardly inside a plastic laundry basket. there was no thought behind those wide, amber eyes; only the vague, distant hum of a single shared brain cell.

“he’s very grounded,” you explained solemnly, your expression remarkably sincere given the circumstances. “jim just wants to exist in the proximity of warm laundry. he keeps the rest of us humble.”

the interviewer leaned back, looking between the stack of cat photos spread across your lap and your completely sincere expression. she seemed to be searching for a punchline that wasn’t coming.

“…you keep these in your wallet at all times?” she asked, her voice hitching with a leftover giggle.

you frowned slightly, tilting your head as if she had just asked why you chose to breathe oxygen. you were getting progressively more confused by the skepticism.

“well yeah,” you said, your tone earnest. “what if somebody asks about my cats? it would be incredibly rude to describe his excellency attorney general meatloaf without providing visual evidence of his girth.”

the interviewer clutched her cue cards to her chest in a desperate ploy to ground herself. “you actually carry around physical, analog photographs just in case of a feline-related inquiry?”

“obviously,” you replied, sniffing with mock dignity.

you began the delicate process of gathering the portraits of baron von murderpillow and the devourer, finally tucking jim—the orange, laundry-loving soul of the household—carefully back into the leather depths of your kelly.

“it’s not like i have some tiny glowing rectangle in my pocket,” you continued, “where i can instantly show people photos while slowly destroying my collective attention span by scrolling through endless amounts of meaningless short-form content for six hours straight.”

the studio fell into a sudden, heavy silence as the weight of the description settled over the room.

“…that was oddly specific,” the interviewer said weakly, blinking as if she had just seen a ghost from the future.

“sounds dystopian,” michael added weakly from somewhere behind the cameras.

“thank you,” you replied.

“that wasn’t a compliment,” he called back, though the unmistakable affection in his tone betrayed him.

“and yet i’m choosing to receive it as one.”

the studio remained thick with a bewildered sort of silence. the interviewer looked like she was still trying to decipher how your brain operated, while the camera crew exchanged looks that vacillated between amusement and concern.

you glanced down thoughtfully at your kelly.

“…i actually didn’t show you lieutenant dan.”

the interviewer made a small noise somewhere between horror and exhausted resignation as your hand immediately disappeared back into the bag. 

somewhere behind the cameras, one of the producers quietly muttered while rubbing his temples:

“i think i need a cigarette.”

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⋆⋆⋆

Morning kicked off with the kind of awesome news that made him want to chew through a wall. He was suspended until the investigation cleared him of the allegations. Officially benched, like some inexperienced rookie. Jobless. He was damn jobless, except for the so-called desk duty they had the nerve to call work. Allowed to sit in his office like a useless trinket, signing off on reports, approving or dismissing crap.

Nowhere on his face was stamped born to fiddle with paper. He was meant to be out there in the field.

If that was the only bullshit he had to deal with, he might’ve been fine, but no, the final nail was hammered right into his coffin. As soon as he stepped out of the station, the first thing he saw was Izuku—geared up for hero work, panting like he’d run two marathons—waiting for him. Their eyes met, and Katsuki’s stomach crashed to the ground like a crumbling building.

“Yua?” he asked, already feeling sick.

Izuku shook his head. “No. She’s okay. Your parents, too. But—” Gloved hands clenched into tight fists. “I’m so sorry, Kacchan. I should’ve told you, but she—she put me in the middle, and I couldn’t…”

“She?” A whisper of your name flowed into his ears. “Did somethin’ happen to her?”

“There’s…b-blood in my living room. Your mom said Fukuda had a gun.”

Cotton filled Katsuki’s ears as his heart shifted into the next gear. “Huh?”

Izuku clasped his shoulder to ground him, or comfort him. Maybe to apologize. He stared at him like he’d committed the worst crime, green eyes heavy with guilt and fear, and Katsuki was the judge about to pronounce the sentence.

“I should’ve told you,” Izuku repeated. “I shouldn’t have lied about how my conversation with her went, but I couldn’t risk anything happening to Yua, and now—”

“What does that mean, Izuku?”

“I—She knew something. I don’t know what. And she cornered me into a choice.” Izuku’s head lowered. “A choice I think she…protected you from making.”

Katsuki could’ve sworn his soul left his body and slammed right back in because for a second, as the information hit his brain, the last two years of his life flashed by, and he couldn’t feel himself. The pressure in his ears migrated to his temples, pulsing as if it wanted to split his skull open.

“Where’s she?” he asked.

“Gone, it seems. Your parents heard someone coming in. A man. After that, silence. Kacchan—”

“Her best friend, yeah? He went there and—”

“I don’t…t-think so,” Izuku whispered.

His blood chilled. “Call her. I’d do it, but the damn cops have my phone.”

“I did, but there was no answer. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I could’ve—”

Everything turned into white noise, and Katsuki was out of there, leaving behind only smoke, before Izuku finished his apology, or whatever that was. He wasn’t sure what any of this was, what was happening, or why. The whole plan was supposed to revolve around exposing that old hag’s twisted business, so the truth about wife-on-paper would come out too and kick off his divorce from her. 

Why the fuck was he hearing that you cornered Izuku? That you knew something he didn’t and hid it from him? That wife-on-paper owned a gun and—

Blood. In the living room. 

Tremors started at his fingertips. His lungs locked up, cutting off his air supply against the rushing wind.

Too slow. 

He was too slow.

Katsuki blitzed through the city like a comet, all the way to your apartment building, fire in his chest, ash on his tongue.

*

He’d called it personal hell? More like a nightmare he wasn’t waking up from anytime soon. One he had no control over. One that would keep playing, dragging him through whether he liked it or not, stringing him along like the damn puppet he’d become. 

Katsuki stared at it, frozen in the hallway of Izuku’s apartment, petrified to take the three steps needed to face the full extent of it. Red dots spilled across the floor in different sizes and shapes. He counted them, memorizing the revolting way the sunrise made them shimmer as if they were precious stones.

He breathed it in, your perfume, mixed with the metallic, rotten-earth stench and gunpowder residue. It coated his lungs with the cruelty of what it meant.

Numbness lived in every cell while his mom clung to him, crying into his shoulder as she told him what happened through broken hiccups. He half listened, on mute. Tongue-tied. Throat dry as sandpaper.

None of them had been able to sleep, not even Yua. They flipped from news channel to news channel the whole night, watching the biggest scandal of his life unfold onscreen.

It was four in the morning when they heard the front door unlock.

They thought it was him or Izuku. Instead, Miyuki walked in.

The bitch tried to play nice, despite her face being plastered all over the TV, labeled allegedly a villain. Played the worried mother right up until they refused to hand Yua over. That was when she pulled a gun on them, firing a bullet into the furthest pillow to make it clear she wasn’t messing around. That she was a real threat.

“I d-don’t know what we would’ve done if that woman hadn’t stepped in,” his mom admitted, leaning back to press her cold, trembling palms to his cheeks. He’d never seen her so terrified. “I think she would’ve killed us. Katsuki…who did you marry?”

He didn’t know who the fuck he’d married, but clearly, it was the wrong person. Regret sat heavy on his chest, in spite of every promise he’d made not to feel it. Beating himself up over being with that bitch meant regretting Yua, too. Those two things weren’t exclusive, no matter how much he wanted them to be.

Without her, Yua wouldn’t exist.

Yua…

“Gotta see my kid. Where’s she?” His voice came out hoarse, carrying everything he was trying to hold back: fury, regret, guilt, shame, heartbreak.

“Guest room.”

He nodded, gently pushing his mom aside, and forced his legs to take the first step forward. Then the second. Then the third.

Away from the short hallway and into the open living room, carefully avoiding the sprinkled blood. Out of the corner of his eye, the full picture of his living nightmare took form. Crimson smudges, blood puddles, and those fucking sun rays falling on them like spotlights in some morbid show.

His chest caved in, the pain so potent it felt like a threat to his life.

Katsuki couldn’t look. Not yet.

He needed to pretend everything was fine—for Yua. His kid needed to feel like things were okay. To hear it in his voice. To see it on his face.

Clenching his jaw, he kept his focus locked forward and hurried past. 

His old man startled at how he marched in like a lunatic about to wreck shit, but Katsuki didn’t spare him a glance. His priority was Yua, who perked up like she could feel him coming, like she knew what that presence was supposed to mean: safety. Only it wasn’t him who made it happen this time.

She lifted her head from her grandpa’s chest and looked over her shoulder. Red met red, and relief rammed into him.

“Papa?”

Damn right, he was a dad. As much as he hated it, everything else—his shame, his mistakes, his duties as a man—had to wait.

“C’mere.”

One soft-spoken order, and she sprang into his arms the second he stood at the bed’s edge, her small hands latching onto his shirt. He removed a glove, pressing his bare hand to her head and smoothing out the stubborn strands that were sticking out.

The shame ignited hotter than ever.

All he’d ever wanted was for her to grow up with both her parents. To never feel the hollow absence so many kids did, or wonder why they weren’t together, why she wasn’t enough to keep them that way.

He wanted her to see a version of love that was good, solid, worth wanting, even if it was all a goddamn pretense between him and Miyuki. But maybe, with time, he wouldn’t have had to pretend. Maybe the spark would've come back. Maybe his feelings would've shifted in that bitch’s favor.

Or maybe…he would've found a way to kill the part of himself that wanted to find his person.

How the hell was he supposed to tell his own kid he loved her, and in the same breath, explain why she couldn’t have both her parents under one roof?

It felt wrong, but staying and pretending wasn’t right either.

What even was the right answer?

Katsuki had no clue, but life took care to force one on him. A much harsher truth, a much ruthless reality, both of his own making. Yua had a publicly known villain for a mom, and a top pro hero dad, currently suspected of villainy, too.

In her future, if she didn’t catch flak for what that bitch had done, she’d have to deal with stupid expectations because of his name. All eyes would be on her.

Fuck him.

Fuck his whole life.

And fuck the ugly fact that he didn’t feel the least bit of remorse for striking a deal with you.

Marrying that bitch out of duty and pretending was bad enough. But ignoring who Miyuki actually was, and continuing to live like that, jeopardizing Yua’s safety, was unforgivable. That would’ve been crossing the line.

This way, he could still look his kid in the eye.

“Papa.” Yua stared up at him, eyes lit up by the light streaming into the room. Something sparkled in them, which quickly became obvious when she whispered, “I saw Pretty.”

Awe.

Shit. “Yua—”

“She’s cool like Papa!” she beamed, her whole face crinkling with innocent happiness.

The mention of you gutted him, in more ways than one. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what happened during those few minutes Yua spent with you the day you broke in. For whatever reason, she’d formed some weird attachment. Just another thing he’d shoved under lock and key, hoping it would fade with time.

A secret he kept from you, too, because how the hell was he supposed to admit to your face that his kid wouldn’t shut up about you?

It wasn’t your problem. It was his.

She ain’t real burned his tongue like coals. “Yeah?” left his mouth instead, fed up with the sandy taste.

“Katsuki, are you sure?” his old man asked, caution in his voice. “We know kids can have imaginary—”

“She ain’t some hallucination,” he snapped, cutting him a glare. “She’s real, and I’m done lyin’ to my kid about her. She saved your asses. Mine too. She—” His throat locked up, but the words forced their way out. “She promised to protect Yua like her own if somethin’ happened. And she damn well did. The least I can do is stop. Lyin’.”

His old man deflated, feeding Katsuki’s guilt.

He huffed a frustrated breath and looked away, eyes tracking the drifting clouds and the way the sky shifted shades. “I know I messed up. Big time,” he said, tightening his hold around Yua. “But I can’t keep makin’ my kid feel like she’s crazy. Not after everythin’ else I’ve done.”

He glanced down at her. His insides twisted at the unconditional trust he found in her face.

“She might be three, but she ain’t stupid. All of this…it’s gonna stick with her.” He swallowed. “Damn me if she remembers my failing ass tellin’ her what she felt wasn’t real.”

“Language,” his mom scolded, swatting him on the back. He shot her a pointed look as she shook her head. “I’d prefer Yua not pick up your foul mouth.”

“Ha. I wonder where I picked it up from.” Another smack. “Seriously?”

Their intense eye contact held for a few moments before her shoulders dropped. She reached for his head and smoothed his wild hair, the same way he had for Yua.

“You hanging in there?” she asked.

“What other choice do I have?” The rhetorical question hung heavy in the silence. “How much did Yua see?”

“Most of it. Up until she shot the other woman. Masaru dragged us in here after it happened,” she said. “We also covered her ears, so she didn’t have to hear that…villain screaming. But there weren’t any screams. We only heard coughing.”

“So she’s been—” He bit the inside of his cheek. Fuck. “The bullet. Where did it hit?”

“Here, I think.” She pointed below her left collarbone.

“What else?”

Her hand dropped to her skirt, plucking at the fabric. “We heard a man’s voice. Maybe ten minutes later. He sounded like the guy I caught your villain wife with,” she said. “I could be mistaken. That day is still a weird blur.”

“Huh?” His face scrunched in confusion. “Back up. You heard the guy she was screwin’ behind my back? That bastard’s the one who took my gi—Truthie?”

Between a man who can protect her from the world, and one who can’t. Which one do you think she’d choose?

“Papa?” Yua’s small voice dragged his attention down. She tilted her head, frowning at the hand she’d pressed to his chest. It jumped slightly from how violently his heart thumped into his ribs. “It’s loud. Why?”

He covered her tiny hand with his and kissed the top of her head. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. “Papa’s gotta take care of somethin’. Be good and listen to Grandma, okay?”

She nodded and beamed at him, smacking her hands against his cheeks and pinching at the skin. “Okay!”

His dry tongue clicked against his teeth. “Cute brat.” After gently setting her down against the pillows, he turned to his mom, swallowing down bitter guilt at seeing her wipe at her eyes. “Quit cryin’. Only my marriage’s over, not my life. Gonna be alright, thanks to her.”

“Who is she, Katsuki? That villain called her a homewrecker.”

You were his. His person. His match. His other half—the better half. 

“Was there a home to wreck to begin with?” He scoffed, no longer bothering to hide the revulsion he felt toward his miserable marriage and fake family life. Something his old hag didn’t seem to appreciate. She slapped him with that disappointed look he’d seen too many times over the past three years. “She ain’t my side chick, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“Then who is she?”

“Mitsuki,” his old man said, warning in his voice. “It’s not the right time to—”

Her hand snapped up to shut him up. “I’m talking to our son.”

“Ask me later. I gotta deal with the mess outside.”

“On TV, they’re talking about your potential involvement with that vigilante. Truth Exposer?” Her words stopped him mid-stride. “That woman—”

He pinned her with a glare over his shoulder. “Thanks for everythin’ you’ve done for me and Yua, but there are things you gotta stay outta.”

Her disapproval with his decisions and behavior lately carved deeper lines into her face. Her mouth set in a flat line. “Marryin’ a villain wasn’t the dumbest thing you’ve done, was it, son?”

Katsuki’s self-control wavered at the prodding, the tsunami of emotions bludgeoning harder against the walls he’d put up to cope with this as rationally as he could. He clenched his jaw and left the room without a word. He had no time to argue when he needed to figure out what the hell had happened to you and where you were because your apartment was dead silent. You would’ve answered.

On his way back to the living room, his boot bumped into something on the floor—Yua’s favorite blanket, half hidden in the shadow and stained red. He crouched to pick it up, but his lungs seized when his fingers registered the rigid outline of a gun. 

Only one person could’ve done this, and the reason was obvious.

Leave it to you to keep your head straight and capitalize on that bitch’s stupidity, even after being shot, even while bleeding.

You bled, maybe still were. The drops on the blanket were your blood.

Your…blood.

His head snapped toward the nightmare he wasn’t sure he was ready to face, his body already moving, drawn by your fading presence. The ground fractured under his feet, forcing him to brace a hand against the couch as his insides recoiled, nausea clawing up his throat.

His brain filled in the space between the scraps of information he had, opening his eyes to what happened. He knew now, and wanted to deny it, but the fucking truth speared his ribs, gyrating like a dirty, jagged knife in an open wound. 

Red.

Red dots and one puddle.

Clumping red dots, clustered and scattered, and one puddle, smudged on one side. 

You had stood. Staggered and stumbled around. Dragged your bleeding body across the floor.

For what felt like forever, he stared as the gruesome scene called out to him, beckoned him closer to feel your cooling warmth, until he eventually buckled under the pressure, knees hitting the floor. His fingers shook like an addict’s in withdrawal as they swept through the thick blood. 

The vital liquid trailed down his skin, pulled by the same gravity rooting him to the spot.

Slowly.

Seconds ticked by on the barely audible TV, where his life was the topic of a heated debate. 

Shapeless cloud shadows drifted over the floor, eating at the light. 

Loud static flooded his ears, sounding unnervingly like what he imagined his heart to sound like if it had a voice.

Katsuki watched you fill the lines of his palm and blend into the sweat escaping the pores, diluting your red.

You were less and less vibrant.

The last of you—

“No.” His hand clenched into a tight fist. “Ain’t the last of anythin’.”

Between a man who can protect her from the world, and one who can’t. Which one do you think she’d choose?

We heard a man’s voice. Maybe ten minutes later. He sounded like the one I caught your wife with.

You won’t have me. You’ll never have me.

“What the hell did you hide from me, Truthie?” Angry energy buzzed in his veins, and for once, it set his thoughts straight. “What did you do?” His heart thrashed, desperate to dive into your blood and soak it up. Maybe it’d speak to it. Give it the answers it craved. “Who’s he?”

He scanned the puddle with focused intent, following the smudging when he noticed the odd-shaped streaks a short distance away. He traced the air above them. 

“Four? Four what?”

A hint.

This was a damn hint you left for him.

It all came crashing down, inescapable clarity smashing into his skull. He hunched over the red, fighting to keep himself together as flashbacks assaulted his mind. One after another, his mental drawers ripped open. Information restructured. Rearranged.

Things you’d said. Things you’d done. 

Moments where you’d hesitated, or looked at him in ways he hadn’t understood then.

I never gamble if I can’t win.

You’ll have my truth, but you can’t have me. Not yet.

Betrayal exploded from the center of his heaving chest, pushing out a broken, strained sound that couldn’t have come from him, yet it did. His fist collided with the floor. 

One time. 

Two.

Three.

He lost count.

“Goddamn it, Truthie.” 

There was a grand scheme, after all, and you’d lied to him. You’d looked him dead in the eye and questioned if his loyalty extended past backstabbing because you knew you’d do it to him, with the same certainty he knew it’d be for a reason.

If Izuku’s panicked confession was anything to go by, it had to be Yua. And judging by what went down, you’d figured out that crazy bitch planned to corner him.

The choice you protected him from…

It was choosing between Yua and you, wasn’t it?

If that bitch had managed to kidnap Yua, she would’ve demanded you and his submission in exchange. He would’ve been forced to sell you out, so you—

You gave yourself up.

“You damn idiot,” he rasped before both fists plummeted into the puddle, droplets flying everywhere. “How dare you? How fuckin’ d-dare you?”

"you're takin' it like a champ, pretty thing," embry cooed, not seeming remotely bothered by your whimpering as he let out a breathy laugh when you anxiously ran one hand down your belly, dipping one finger between your little folds to rub at your clit and try to distract yourself from your worries.

embry rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist to halt your movements, waiting until you lifted your gaze to meet his before he spoke. when you did finally meet his gaze, he looked rather disappointed in you and you knew it was because you were working yourself up over taking all of his cock.

although you two had sex plenty of times now, he'd never been able to get himself entirely inside of you. from your conversations about it, he'd discovered that you got ahold of a tiktok video where some girl was talking about a bruised cervix, and it apparently got way too deep into your head and now he was suffering the consequences for it.

despite him having the patience of a saint most days, it was quickly waning. if he were worried that taking him to the root would hurt you, he wouldn't have been pushing for it. would it be a big stretch? sure. was there any reason for you to work yourself into a tizzy over it? no.

"breathe," he reminded you, his brown eyes softening a bit when you froze for a moment before slowly taking in a deep breath with him, "you have your safe word, yea?" he asked, gently releasing your wrist so he could slide his hands over your thighs and slowly rub up and down the muscles there.

despite how big you'd always believed your thighs were, his hands managed to dwarf them as he soothed you. you slowly nodded, resting your hands on his abdomen, not-so-conspicuously avoiding his erection.

"that's my girl," he mused, "now let me make you feel good, yea?" he asked, a small smile on his lips as he watched your shoulders drop as you gave him another small nod.

embry had fingered you and eaten you out in the hour prior so he was more than confident you couldn't have been more prepped to take him. he slid one hand up to your hip, tightening enough to lift you up just enough for his other hand to grab his cock, pumping himself a few times.

you watched as more precum spilled out of his tip, his abdomen already covered in a sheen layer of a combination of his fluids and yours. before you could focus too much on it, he was notching the tip against your little entrance, his hand tugging down on your hip just enough to slot the tip of him inside you.

at the instant stretch, you anxiously looked down at where you where connecting and slid your hand between your folds again to go back to rubbing your clit, "you're fine, pretty thing," embry chuckled, watching your futile attempts to dull the stretch you both knew was coming.

you seemed pretty lost in your own world as you played with yourself, so embry tugged you down a bit more. almost immediately, you whimpered when you felt the way his cock was pushing your swollen walls apart, and embry let out a breathy moan, your walls fluttering around his cock like mad from the combination of your incessant need to fiddle with your clit and your body's attempts to make room for him.

"openin' up just fine for me down there, aren't you?" embry teased, flashing you a smile when you lifted your gaze from your pussy to glower at him.

in an effort to prove his point, he bucked his hips up just enough to push himself a tiny bit further in you. as expected, your pillowy walls split for his cock, though, the dramatic yelp that you let out had him all sorts of annoyed.

having been dating for as long as the two of you had, he was well aware with how much of a diva you could be at times and, normally, he was more than happy to indulge in your games. this time, however, he was not in the mood to deal with it.

before you even had a chance to register what he was doing, he had pulled his cock out of you and rolled the two of you over so you were now underneath him and, notably, completely at his mercy. "for fuck's sake," he muttered to himself, ignoring the way your pupils dilated as you took in just how big he looked when he was hovering above you.

his biceps bulged and flexed when he reached down to line his cock back up with your entrance again. before he pushed in, he dipped his thumb inside of you just to make sure he wasn't crazy but, when he pulled out and a string of your slick dragged out with him, he was more than confident you were just being a brat about the whole thing.

so, with that newfound realization, he notched his cock back at the entrance of your pussy, not having the same patience he'd had earlier as he slid inside of you, choosing to move at a slow and steady pace instead of the start and stop he'd been doing earlier.

as soon as you registered what he was doing, you snapped out of your little trance and anxiously reached your hands down to halt his hips. he must've seen it coming from a mile away because he had your hands pinned above your head before you'd even had a chance to touch him, and his other hand quickly reached down to deal with you himself.

a sharp pain shot straight to your core and you quickly realized he'd definitely just slapped your clit, "embry!" you snapped and, almost immediately, he did it again, rolling his eyes when you yelped again.

you opened your mouth to protest again but he beat you to it, "you wanna keep complaining or are you gonna take my cock like a good girl?" he asked, his free hand hovering dangerously close to your clit again and you quickly shook your head, not particularly interested in feeling that again.

"'s what i thought," embry murmured, a small smile on his lips when he released your hands, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him close to you so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck.

he let out a breathy laugh, sliding his free hand under your back to hug you close to him, "be a good girl and make some room for me, yea?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your hair when you nodded and sucked in almost a comically large breath. yea, he knew how to put you in your place.

"good girl," he murmured, pressing his hips into yours, not stopping until he felt his balls brush your ass. and fuck, he was right, you felt like heaven wrapped around the entire length of his cock.

despite how badly he just wanted to fuck you senseless, he continued murmuring quiet praises to you. when he felt you reaching your hand down in between the two of you again, presumably to touch yourself, he pressed a kiss to your hair, sliding one hand down your arm to gently catch your wrist, "let me do it," he soothed, lifting his head to look down at you, giving you a soft smile when you quickly nodded.

"don't know why you insist on touching yourself so much when you've got me right here," he mused, releasing your wrist so he could slide his hand down your side, his breath catching when he saw the clear bulge at the bottom of your belly coming from his cock.

he slid his hand over it, quickly dwarfing your belly and pressed down just enough to have both of you moaning. if it were even possible, he felt like he was even deeper in you, the heaviness of his cock becoming even more all-consuming as you whined underneath him.

"you feel that?" embry asked breathlessly, eyebrows pinching together as he pulled his hips back just a tiny bit, quickly sliding back in with his hand still pressed down on your belly.

you whimpered and nodded, "feels full," you whispered and he smiled, looking up at you.

"feels good to have your imprinter's cock so deep in you, doesn't it?" he asked, already knowing just how strongly you felt about the bond you two shared. you quickly nodded, "i already told you, pretty thing, we're made for each other," he mused, pulling his hips back a bit further this time, watching the way your face relaxed in ecstasy as he thrusted back in.

a breathy whine escaped your lips as you nodded, "made for each other," you whispered back, smiling when he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead.

"i love you," you whispered, peeking up at him and he just let out a breathy laugh.

"i love you too, pretty thing," he reassured, "more than you know," he added, "now let me make you feel good, yea?"

you nodded, sliding one hand up the broad expanse of his back, threading your fingers through his hair to tug him down to kiss you while he got to work between your thighs.

it didn't take him long to settle into a rhythm that had both of you seeing stars, easily stretching down his thumb to rub your clit like you wanted while keeping the pressure on his cock inside you.

his thrusts were smooth and targeted, your legs subconsciously opening up wider as he rocked you, the extra room allowing him to hit an even deeper spot that had you gasping, tightening your fingers in his hair as he let out a breathy chuckle.

"told you it'd feel good," embry teased, his thrusts not faltering or losing rhythm as he continued to roll his hips into yours, "you feel like heaven," he murmured, lowering his head to suckle some little hickies into your collarbone.

you ran your other hand over his back and biceps, feeling just how much bigger he was than you, your pussy showing her appreciation by throbbing around his cock.

embry muffled his groan into your neck, applying more pressure against your clit as he felt his balls tightening, threatening to spill his release into you before either of you were ready.

"such a good girl," embry groaned into the crook of your neck, hugging you closer to him as his thrusts got sharper, more precise as he continued railing himself into that spongey spot deep inside you, "let me feel you cum on me pretty thing," he encouraged, continuing his rhythm as he led you to the edge.

your belly tightened with your impending release and you muffled your whines against his shoulder, "come on pretty thing," embry cooed, voice tight as he tried to stave off his own orgasm, a battle that he was quickly losing, "let me feel your little pussy cum on me, promise you'll feel so good. jus' let go for me," he goaded, your body tensing up as you hit your release. your arms tightened around him, hugging him closely to you as you bit down on his shoulder.

the feeling of you biting down on him sent embry over the edge to his own orgasm, his body easily draping over yours as his final few thrusts snapped roughly against your swollen cunt. the familiar warmth of his release sprayed deep inside you, his hand on your belly heightening all the overwhelming sensations tenfold.

his thrusts slowed as he came back down to earth, exhaling heavily as he lifted his head from the crook of your neck, "did you seriously bite me?" he asked, letting out a breathy laugh when you nodded, a pink blush quickly creeping up on your post-orgasmic cheeks.

Travis’ glossy met hers. “When?” He whispered and his voice broke slightly. Leah pursed her lips and softly shook her head.

I don’t know but we will find him

She squeezed his hand afterwards and he nodded, seeing the determination in her eyes. 

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰1996꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

No matter how much clothing they put on or the amount of magazines they stuffed their jackets with, nothing could prepare Leah for the winter cold outside the cabin. She’d fully recovered from her run in with the local wildlife and with gravity, but she had odd days when it still ached as if it’d just happened. She won’t let that stop her though it did slow her down slightly, she still went out into the snow to help look for Javi.

Leah never pretended to the group or to Nat, she wasn’t joining to help hunt, she was purely looking for Javi. At first Nat had objected to Leah joining them, originally Leah had thought it was because Nat was trying to look out for her but after a while she realized Nat just didn’t want her coming along with them. That hurt more than she’d care to admit but Leah tried to brush it off. She wouldn’t stay in the cozy little cabin while Javi was out there alone. It would have driven her crazy and eventually Nat realized that, when Leah wouldn’t let it go.

At least Travis was grateful for having someone else out looking for his brother. He never mentioned it during their late night talks but it meant more to him than he cared to admit when Leah would bug Nat to stay out a little longer each day.

Things have been tense between Nat and Travis since doomcoming and Leah only knew about the small parts Travis shared with her during their nightly talks. She’d tried her hardest to get them closer together again but when she tried the last time, about a month back, Nat had blown up on her telling her to butt out of it. Travis had thanked her later that night but shrugged it off. It seemed neither of them were keen on reconciling. Eventually they’ve come to a distant friend and Leah couldn’t help but feel proud of her work.

The sun still had yet to come up, Lottie sat waiting for them. She smeared ash on the palm of each of their hands before they put their gloves back on. She lit a makeshift incense and waved the smoke over them, Leah tried not to show her holding her breath. Lottie pricked her finger and dipped the droplets of blood in a cup of warm tea. 

“It’s not like this Wicca bullshit’s doing us any good” Nat whispered looking over at Travis who held out the cup to her.

“Well, you keep coming back alive, don’t you?” Lottie rebutted and Nat sighed, taking a sip of the blood infused tea. 

Nat handed the tea forcefully over to Leah who swiftly took a sip, passing it over to Travis. After his sip he looked over at Lottie. 

“Thanks Lott.” He shallowly smiled, gratefully at her.

‘Just play circus with the dancing-tightrope walking monkeys for a while. Just don’t piss them off. Especially if they had creepy voo-doo magic.’

The three walked out the cabin and into the harsh winter snow, leaving Lottie behind to watch from the cabin window.

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰1996꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

Leah split off from Travis and Nat opting to go the opposite way than them, she was only slowing them down from the lingering pain in her body. Nat tried to argue with her, seeing as she didn’t have a weapon but she didn’t mind, the more ground they covered the more likely they’d find Javi.

She nodded at Nat, a silent promise to return to the rendezvous point on time and she walked in the opposite direction as the pair.

A small part of her thought about Jackie, how her frozen body still lies in the shack behind the cabin. She thought about how the cold bites and wraps it way around her. She thought about the last time she saw Javi, how she’d left him there in her intoxicated state. Grief and blame settles in her stomach like a hard rock that she couldn’t claw out. The thought rings in her head like a taunting bell.

‘It’s my fault he’s dead’

She wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t, Javi was just a kid and she had to find him. If she listened, if she stopped looking she’d have to deal with the fact that she left him to die. Leah kept walking despite the pain jolting her every step. One way or another. She’d find that kid.

Her legs ached at the weight of the snow under them as she walked but she pushed on. She still had more time before the sun got close to setting. Her breath puffed out in front of her once she got to the high point of the mountain. She saw no signs of life around her. She turned back around and started walking back to the rendezvous point with a frown.

Leah saw Nat and Travis waiting for her, Travis was looking down at the snow with a distant look. Nat turned and walked over towards her.

“We found another dead fox.” Nat muttered, Leah nodded in response. Nat walked off and Travis and Leah slowly followed behind her.

That’d be the fourth dead animal they’d found this month and each time Travis spiraled. His nightmare got worse, to the point where he just ended up staying up through the night. When he was awake he’d suffer panic attacks, all while trying to hide it from the rest of the group. His brain was fighting against him and Leah knew all too well what that was like.

Leah didn’t mind staying up with him during the sleepless nights, tracing stories on his arm with their secret code they’d made together. She didn’t blame him when they’d hide away during odd times during the day to soothe his panicked breathing and racing mind. Leah certainly never judged him when he never once judged her for all her sobbing when she realized she’d left Javi behind that night or when she cried and struggled in pain when she was recovering from her injuries.

Leah stuffed her cold hands in her jacket pocket and followed Nat’s footprints in the snow, never once looking up from the ground while Travis’ arm brushed against hers.

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰1996꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

Tai calling out to Shauna that dinner was ready pulled Leah from her thoughts. She’d been staring out the foggy window thinking about the rest of the world, outside their purgatory. 

“Hey. The fuck are you doing?” Mari and a few others crowded around the fireplace where Misty knelt, stirring the dinner pot.

“Me?” Misty turned and asked looking up at Mari. Leah glanced away from the window and furrowed her brows at the scene in front of her.

“Get away from that. You know the rules.” Mari stated and Leah couldn’t help but agree, the last thing they needed was another shroom incident.

“It’s not like I'm going to poison anyone. Again” Misty scoffed but realized her mistake as she trailed off.

“You drew the four this morning, Misty. You have to get the water.” Akilah nodded over towards the front door. Leah was lucky enough she kept getting sevens, meaning she only had to help with laundry.

“But that’s not fair. I… I’ve been doing it every day, and it’s freezing out there. I…” Misty complained but saw the rest of the girls' careless looks and gave up. 

“Fine” She said aggressively and stomped over towards the bucket, picking it up and slamming the cabin door shut behind her.

Leah felt slightly bad and wondered if maybe she should offer to get the water for Misty next time, but as soon as she pursed her lips in thought Mari sat down next to her.

“Don’t even think about it” Mari muttered with her arms crossed looking at Leah.

Leah shrunk back slightly and shrugged in confusion. Mari rolled her eyes with a lack of anger behind them.

“You’re already doing double the work, going out with Travis and Natalie? As well as helping out with chores. Seriously, leave something for the rest of us” Mari’s tone was sincere but filled with light humor. Leah nodded and smiled sheepishly. 

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰1996꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

Leah could barely feel the heat from the fire from the other side of the room. She knew it was definitely warming up the small cabin but from where she laid in the corner, it didn’t really feel like it. She stared awake at the ceiling and heard the faint shuffling from the rest of the group. In the corner of her eyes she saw Nat and Travis’ outline sitting in front of the fire. She didn’t have to strain to hear them, the sleeping cabin was quiet enough to hear a pin drop let alone whispers.

“You can go to sleep if you want to” Travis whispered out after a particularly long silence. 

“I will in a minute. Really enjoying the stone age TV right now” Nat joked quietly. Leah shuffled around under her blankets, trying to get comfortable again, hoping to get a somewhat decent sleep before having to get up at a random time during the night.

“I know you think he’s dead” Travis whispered out and Leah frowned and gulped harshly.

“It’s been two months… i-in this cold.” Nat trailed off and Leah sat up quickly feeling eyes burning into her head.

She turned and looked over and saw Travis looking over his shoulder at her with tears and fear in his eyes. His stuttering breathing was made obvious by the quiet and Nat panicked next to him.

“Travis?” Nat questioned and Leah pushed the blankets off her, rushing over to him dodging the sleeping girls in her way.

She slid down next to him knocking her knee with his leg as she did so. His wide frantic eyes were glued to her calmer ones, like a sailor to a lifeboat. She grabbed his closest hand and placed it hard against her chest in the valley between her breasts, as they’d done many times before. She didn’t press down hard enough for him to feel her heartbeat but plenty enough for him to feel her deep and steady breathing. 

With one hand she held his hand against her. She raised her other hand in a practiced ease against his tear stained cheek. As much as she wanted to swipe the tears tracks away she held him there, grounding him as she stared with a calming facade. 

His shaky breathing began matching her own, and even though his lip still wobbled the tears had stopped falling down his face. They sat there staring at each other, breathing in sync. Understanding each other on an unspoken level. Finally Travis blinked harshly, letting his final tears fall and she knew he was all right now.

Leah smiled softly and empathetically at him and lowered her hand from his cheek but didn’t let go of his other hand, she let both their hands rest on her lap. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he looked up at her with an adoring look she could only describe as looking like a shy puppy.

The floorboard creaked as Lottie inched forward, looking down from where she was standing near them. Leah’s head snapped over towards her, she’d forgotten about the rest of the cabin who was all now awake and looking at the commotion.

Leah darted her eyes quickly over to Natalie who’d shuffled back slightly and whose frown increased as her eyes flickered between both of them and Lottie. 

“Your brother’s alive. I know he is.” Lottie said and Travis stared up at her. “You should get some rest” She muttered and stood and walked away nervously.

A range of emotions flooded through Travis’ eyes, he darted them back over to meet Leah’s who only squeezed his hand comfortingly again.

Nat stood up and walked past Leah a bit too close, standing on her free hand placed on the floor. Leah held a poker face and made no noise but she knew Travis caught it. Nat rushed over to Lottie and pulled her aside to have a hushed talk between them.

Leah placed her sore hand over Travis’ soothingly rubbing the back of his hand, and she smiled to herself when he carefully soothed her aching hand with his.

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰1996꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

The earlier start to the hunt didn’t change their findings so far, but hopefully it meant they’d at least be able to get a bit further out than last time.

Nat had decided Leah was going off in her own direction today, it confused her on why Nat had specifically ordered it but she obeyed nonetheless. The three continued their searching in their respective directions but their efforts were in vain. Just another day of not finding food or Javi. Leah sighed and her breath fogged up in front of her. 

Once again Leah met up with them at the rendezvous point however this time both Nat and Travis stood talking to each other. As Leah shuffled closer towards the distant pair, it was clear they were disagreeing about something, whatever Travis mumbled to Nat she didn’t want to hear as she waved him off dismissively and started walking away.

Leah heard Travis sigh and she hesitantly approached him. He turned at the sound of the sow crunching beneath her shoes. He flicked her a tired look and she returned one back. She waited for him to start walking but he only leaned back against the nearest tree. 

“Can I ask you something?” He quietly asked and she nodded as she walked over to him. He gulped and looked at her hesitantly.

“Why did you say my name?” He whispered delicately and she held her breath at the question. They hadn’t talked about it. She’d been able to tell him about the wolves and her fall but they both never mentioned her broken silence.

She looked into his eyes and saw no judgment, not that she ever thought there would be. Leah reached for his hand and he watched her take his glove off, holding it with her other hand, and traced her coded words into the palm of his hand.

Sorry. I was scared

“No. No, don’t- don’t apologize. I’ve just never heard you speak before” He stuttered out sincerely. Leah shuffled her weight to her other leg nervously as she wrote her vague answer.

First time

His brow pinched together and he leaned closer “First, like ever?” His head shook as he spoke with surprise. Leah nodded. She felt her cheeks blush and was thankful for the cold wind she could blame it on.

“And it was my name huh?” He questioned and looked at her with a wide smirk, reminding her of a time before winter hit. “Well, now I feel special” He joked and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

Good

Finally having enough, you stomp down the stairs to confront your irritability at the source. Not many of them are home tonight. Just Namjoon and his three closest underlings: Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok. He’s the youngest among them and somehow still wound up the leader.

The Dragons, your brother’s notorious motorcycle gang, are far greater in number than the four downstairs. Ten bikers live here at the house with you, but when the gang rides in total there’s about twenty five men. There are some drifters, but no matter the number they are a force to be reckoned with on the road. 

“Hey,” you yell over the music. 

Namjoon gestures for Hoseok to turn it down and ushers you forward with a wave of his hand.

“What’s up, bug?” 

“Can you please keep it down? I’m trying to study,” you answer. 

“Oh, we’re sorry,” Seokjin responds. “You were so quiet we forgot you were up there. You’re usually down here annoying us.”

You roll your eyes. The four of them have been friends for the better part of a decade. They’re the only gang members allowed to tease you. If someone else tries it, Namjoon takes their head. 

Your brother is extremely protective of you without being controlling. You appreciate his ability to recognize your adulthood while still wanting to keep you from harm. You can attest without a shadow of a doubt that Namjoon will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. His determination to protect you is how you wound up with the Dragons in the first place.

“Why don’t you go over to your study buddy’s house?” Hoseok suggests. 

Right… your study buddy they still believe is a woman. The study buddy they assume helps you study instead of fucking you dumb. 

“We don’t study at her house. We study at the library.”

This is a partial lie. You “study” at the library, in his car, in the school janitorial closet, and anywhere else he can get his hands on you. Ironically, your grades have never been better. Call it a lack of stress.

“We’ll keep it down, bug,” Namjoon assures you. “Sorry.”

Once you communicate your appreciation, you travel upstairs again to continue studying. You hear the music turn back on, but this time at a much lower volume. 

Phone lighting up on your desk, you lean over to see a familiar name. Jungkook’s ears must’ve been ringing because there’s a photo of his finished study guide on your screen. You reply to his text complaining that you’re not even halfway done yet before turning your phone over so you can actually focus. 

You didn’t predict meeting someone like Jungkook this year, or ever, really. When this semester of your Master’s program began you weren’t looking for anything, especially not a fuck buddy. You only ask Jungkook to be your study buddy in the first place because he’s the smartest person in your class by a long shot. Coincidentally, you only spend the early months of the semester as study buddies before advancing to fuck buddies. Sometimes you still actually study together, but it’s few and far between. 

Despite Jungkook thoroughly wrecking your body every time he touches it, he’s probably the nicest guy you’ve ever met. No matter the hour he’ll answer questions about assignments or explain complex topics you can’t wrap your head around. He lends pencils to strangers and one time you swear you saw him saving a cat from a tree.

You still remember the first time you laid eyes on him. 

It’s brutally hot for the first day of class. The city is scorching with record-breaking temperatures even in September. The vents are located at the back of the large classroom so you find an empty desk in the back corner to occupy. 

You’re preparing for the first lecture by placing your essentials on the desk and plugging in the charger for your laptop. Distracting yourself with color-coordinating your highlighters, you miss most people entering the room. 

Someone upstairs is looking out for you, though, because when you glance at the entrance it’s at the exact moment an absolute Adonis is walking in. He has wavy black hair that just kisses his cheekbones but is longer in the back, huge starry brown eyes, a button nose, and pretty pink lips accompanied by a tiny mole just under the bottom one. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white shirt, baggy jeans, and big black combat boots. To make matters worse he’s sporting black half-rim glasses. 

You quickly realize your mistake in gawking at him because he makes eye contact with you, thus giving him permission to take the seat next to you. Precisely as the unspoken rules of classroom etiquette dictate.  

He greets you with an amicable bow before plopping in the chair that shares your desk space. Using your peripheral vision you watch him lay out his supplies and open his laptop. 

You’re wearing a crop top and are still too warm, so you’re downright shocked at his outfit choice. He doesn’t even roll his sleeves up.

“Are you hot?”

The words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them. 

Your companion looks at you, eyes wide, questioning whether you’re talking to him or not. When he realizes you are, he glances down at his attire. Then he chuckles.

“That’s a bit forward, don’t ya think?” 

If you could crawl into a hole and die, you would. 

“I didn’t mean it like —” 

He’s cutting you off with a wave of his hand as he laughs off the miscommunication. There’s an awkward silence before he continues the conversation. 

“To answer your question, yes I am,” he says. “Not like that, though.” He winks at you and it takes everything in you not to audibly moan. 

Despite him admitting to being warm he does nothing to remedy it. You’re not his mother nor his girlfriend so you don’t question him.

That’s the last time you speak that day, but over the course of a few weeks you partake in small talk and learn each other’s names. 

You initially ask him to study together the week prior to your first exam. He enthusiastically agrees and you settle on a time before exchanging numbers. The study sessions continue on a weekly basis even once you take the exam. 

The night your relationship shifts into uncharted territory is one you’ll never forget. 

Jungkook is sitting beside you as he copies notes from a PowerPoint lecture into his notebook. The sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper is familiar now. You're absentmindedly scrolling through last week’s readings to find your previous highlights. The professor surprised you today by announcing there would be a quiz on the article and now you need to re-familiarize yourself with it. 

Leaning back in the chair with a huff, you cross your arms over your chest. Jungkook peeks at you from behind his hair. He chuckles before setting his pencil down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna do this anymore,” you pout. Jungkook coos at you sarcastically and you hit his arm with your shirt sleeve in protest. “Shut up, nerd.”

“What do you wanna do instead, huh?” 

You eye him from your position until you find an answer. Rather than verbally replying you lean forward and gently steal the glasses from his face. You slip them on and glance around the library to see if you can tell the difference. 

“Damn you are — oh.”

Any semblance of thought dies within you the second you look at him again. Like an actual comic book character, removing his glasses magically gives him a Clark Kent to Superman-esque makeover. He’s sitting taller with his shoulders back, his doe eyes are sharp and dark, and instead of his normal dorky smile he’s smirking at you. You actually look around again to see if he stood up and someone took his place.

To be frank, you aren’t entirely sure what happens next. One moment you’re at the table together and the next you’re in the Historical Fiction section and Jungkook is on his knees pushing your skirt up and pulling your panties down so he can make out with your cunt. 

The worst part is that amongst the chaos, you’re still wearing his fucking glasses. In fact they rest on your nose through the whole ordeal, all the way until you’re coming on his tongue with a cry of his name. He doesn’t take them back until he’s rising to face you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Thus begins your first ever situationship, although that doesn’t seem entirely correct. You and Jungkook aren’t in that weird headspace where neither of you know what the other wants. You mutually agree it’s just sex until someone decides to either move on or move up to boyfriend and girlfriend status. 

The latter option is definitely tempting. Jungkook treats you well and fucks you even better. Which are pretty much the only two prerequisites you have for a relationship. But your current dependence on the Dragons prevents you from choosing that route. 

There’s a knock on your door which pulls you from your reverie. Namjoon’s face peaks around the corner.

“We’re heading out to deal with some Wolves. Be back soon,” he informs you. 

“Be safe,” you reply. 

He assures you that he will before shutting your door. Anxiety flickers awake in your stomach and travels through your nervous system. Of all the gang activity that surrounds you, this is the shit you hate the most. Stupid boys doing stupid boy things. 

The Dragons occupy all the territory East of the large river which slices your city in half. The territory on the West side of the river is owned by the Wolves. There are straggler factions and out-of-towners who sometimes come into the fold, but they’re nowhere near the size of the two gangs. Naturally, the Dragons and the Wolves despise one another and their history dates back long before Namjoon became the leader. He inherited the rivalry amongst many other responsibilities and now he perpetuates it without knowing why it exists in the first place.

You already know when you see Namjoon tomorrow he’ll have split knuckles and bruises on his skin. It makes you sick to your stomach. This life is far beneath what your brother deserves and what he’s capable of. You want so much more for him and for yourself as well. Getting your Master’s degree is the first step in liberating you both from all the violence and decay which surrounds you. Namjoon risked everything to save you as children, and you vow to return the favor one day, even if it kills you. 

Contrary to popular belief, you don’t fail your exam the next day. In fact, you leave the classroom with a spring in your step now that your stressor is behind you. 

Jungkook watches you ahead of him with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes as you skip towards the parking lot. 

“You know, we’ve been doing this for a while now and I’ve never even been to your place,” you say.

“My place…” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”

“Why not?” You stop short and cause Jungkook to barrel into you. “Hold on, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Or wait, do you still live with your mom or something?”

“No, mom’s gone,” he answers. 

You turn around to face him when you hear his response. He’s saying it nonchalantly but his eyes are swimming with sadness and maybe even guilt. 

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you reply. He shakes his head, waving your condolences away before reaching out to pick a fallen leaf from your hair. 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he adds. “And no, no girlfriend. Only you, pretty.”

“So then…” You rock back on your heels. “Can I see your place? I promise I’m not judgmental like that. I mean, there’s a reason you’ve never been to my place, either.”

Jungkook thinks it over for a moment as he drags you by the hand towards his car. 

“Not yet,” he finally answers. “Soon, hopefully.” 

You accept his response albeit a little disappointedly. It’s not even about you getting into his business like that, you’re just sick of the tight spaces the two of you are forced to hook up in. You’ve never even seen the guy fully naked before because you’re always pulling your clothes aside just enough to get the job done. 

He denies it but you know he’s got abs under there and you’re dying to finally get your mouth on them. 

Sure, you complain, but when he opens his car door for you to climb into his backseat you’re doing so without another word. 

You don’t fuck right away because the parking lot is still packed and you’re not trying to catch a charge. Namjoon would kill you before you even get the chance to stand before a judge. 

Instead, Jungkook shows you his newest Pokémon game on his Switch and hands it over to you so you can play. You giggle as your adorable water type does its victory dance after demolishing your opponent. Jungkook watches over your shoulder and directs you when to block and which attacks to use. Somehow, it all feels more intimate than when his cock is in your mouth. 

Which is precisely where you two end up about an hour later when the surrounding cars have all left. 

Jungkook’s backseat isn’t big enough for you to kneel on the floorboards so he’s lounging across the seats with you kneeling between his legs. You honestly prefer this position because the leather is far more forgiving to your knees than the carpet. His pants and boxers are around his thighs as you bob your head up and down his beautifully large and veiny cock. 

Your man is a head pusher through and through and so you welcome the familiar feeling of his fingers against your scalp as he guides you deeper until your nose is brushing his pelvis. He doesn’t force you down around him or fuck his hips into you. The grasp on your hair is moreso for control and because he loves to feel you while you pleasure him. 

You gag when his tip touches the back of your throat and you stay there for a moment, letting him feel you swallow around him before returning to his tip and swirling your tongue around it. Keeping your tongue out so it caresses the underside while you move up and down, you continue your movements at a steady pace.

Jungkook groans, his head hitting the window with a dull thud. 

“Oh, pretty, you have no idea the things you do to me,” he praises. He uses his grip on you to make you look at him. You moan around his cock when your eyes meet and he yanks on your hair in appreciation. “S’fucking good.”

This man loves a good blowjob and you love to please him. Every time you’re on your knees for him he praises and worships you and your sweet mouth for the euphoria they bring him. He tastes delicious on your tongue and if not for your human need to inhale, you would go all night. 

It only takes a couple more messy slides of your tongue down his shaft and your hand playing with his balls before he’s coming down your throat in thick, hot spurts of white. You swallow every last drop, continuing to move your mouth from his head to the base, before finally coming up for some much needed air. 

Sitting back on your heels, you place your hands in the space between your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. You know he likes it when you look all innocent despite the nasty things you do together. If things were different, if you were able to be with him in the confines of a bedroom and savor your time together, you’d put on a pretty white set with bows all over just to drive him crazy. 

Jungkook clocks your behavior with a tilt of his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek before he yanks you back and flips you over so your ass is facing him. His hand slowly traverses your back before stopping between your shoulder blades to push your face into the leather. You arch your back for him and wiggle your ass to really get him going. You can’t see him anymore but you hear the fond, deep chuckle. He pulls down your tights and panties in one go before flipping your skirt up so he can see you properly. 

He grabs your ass in his big hands and pulls your cheeks apart to spit on your hole. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of it dripping down your folds. Hips pushing back against his hands, Jungkook just laughs at your neediness before slapping your ass.

“Oh fuck,” you curse. 

He tsks at you disapprovingly. 

“You that cock drunk, pretty? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says. 

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

He bends down to lay across your back and bites on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue. 

“C’mon, baby. You know I always take care of you.”

He doesn’t allow you to reply before he’s thrusting his cock in and nudging his head against your cervix. Your hands clutch desperately at his seats, fingernails making indentations in the leather, as he rears back before doing it all over again. This man makes you fucking delirious and you wonder if you’ll ever get enough. Lord knows no other man will ever successfully replicate the pleasure he provides you.

Jungkook’s pace is relentless and steadfast and it isn’t long before the friction of his cock sinking in and out of your walls brings you to a climax. He’s an overachiever, though, and he doesn’t let up even as he feels your pussy pulsating around him as you come. He soldiers on, tilting your hips to make you arch even further and send his cock deeper inside you. You feel him in your stomach and it has you drooling where your face is crushed against the seat. 

You pathetically moan out a sound that closely resembles his name as he abuses your hole.

Your next orgasm hits you much faster, riding the wave of your first to bring stars to your eyes yet again. Your cunt squeezes Jungkook impossibly tight when you come and it causes him to shoot his load inside you and stuff you full of him. This man’s cock is too good to ever be obstructed by a plastic barrier. You’re on birth control and neither of you sleep with anyone but each other, so raw it is. 

When you exit the car to move to the front seat, the stars have appeared in the sky. Jungkook drives you home, or what he believes is your home, and bids you goodnight. Once his car is out of sight, you pivot and walk the familiar route to your actual house. 

It’s normal for you to arrive home this late, even before you met Jungkook. Namjoon never questions where you’ve been or you were with, which you appreciate. He understands you need independence and will contact him if you’re ever in trouble. He doesn’t need to study your every move when he only has one rule for you, anyway: stay away from the Wolves.

The next day you're lounging in the living room with your ankles crossed where they rest over the arm of a chair. You’re reading for a different class than the one you share with Jungkook, trying to get the assignment done now so you can enjoy your night. 

Your peace and quiet is disturbed when Namjoon walks in looking supremely pissed off. His jaw is clenched and since his hair is pushed back you can see the veins popping out in his forehead.

“Joonie?” You call for him as you sit up. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking Wolves,” he growls. He paces back and forth a couple times before stopping in front of you. “We’re meeting at the river tonight. You need to come.”

“Why?”

“Because word on the street is they’re going to use the meet-up as a distraction to raid the house,” he answers. “I need you with me so I know you’re safe.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to call off the meet-up?” You argue.

“No. I want them to come. So I can rip them to fucking shreds and send those assholes a message,” he explains. 

You have no reason or room to question him, so you head upstairs to change. Whenever you’re going to be in the presence of gang members, whether Dragons or Wolves, Namjoon prefers you dress a bit tougher than your normal girly outfits. He knows these men and the way they think, so anything, no matter how small, to show them you mean business is a good thing.

Throwing on cargo pants, combat boots, and a leather jacket over your t-shirt, you use the darker half of your eyeshadow palette and put your hair up. All for show. 

You’re exiting the house as the sun sinks behind the clouds. Namjoon hands you the extra helmet before swinging his leg over his bike. He watches you put it on and adjust the strap before he slaps your eye shield down with a laugh. You shove his arm before swinging your leg over and joining him on the motorcycle. 

The familiar thunderous sound of the Dragon’s motorcycles coming to life is deafening even through the helmet. It’s about fifteen bikes in total and the remaining gang members will guard the house and catch any Wolves trying to break in. 

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok are directly behind you and Namjoon. One by one they signal to your brother they’re ready to go. You adjust your placement by scooting closer to your brother’s warmth and wrapping your arms around his middle. Your fingers twist around the zipper of his open leather jacket to hold onto him. The engine roars to life and you feel the bike kick beneath you as it rears to go. 

“Good?” He asks.

“Ready as ever,” you confirm. 

Kicking up the stand with his heel, he signals with his hand before leading the bikers away from the house and onto the dark pavement of the road. The wind sweeps over your bodies in waves as Namjoon speeds down the backstreets leading into the city. 

You don’t ride much anymore, but whenever you do it’s always exhilarating. The heat of the bike beneath your legs, your brother’s comforting presence in front of you, and the air wiping around you as it nips at your clothes. Tipping to the right along with Namjoon as he takes a tight corner, you watch as the city grows closer. The monumental buildings and yellow lights along the river make it look beautiful and more peaceful than you know it is. 

When you reach the river, the Wolves are already there waiting. The rival gang members lounge on their parked motorcycles as they speak to one another. It can’t be all of them, since you know their numbers closely rival your own, and there aren't more than twelve here. It pisses you off when you realize they really are planning to raid the house tonight. If you find out a Wolf was in your room there will be hell to pay. 

Namjoon kills the engine and removes his helmet, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. You follow suit and step off the bike as he pushes the stand back down. Your brother shoots you a look you already know means “stay close to me.” 

The agreed upon location is just outside an abandoned warehouse where everything in sight is slowly deteriorating. The road has gigantic potholes and cracks and if you go close enough to the water some of the gravel has already caved in and is eroding. The two gangs congregate near the water’s edge where it laps against the shore and sprays water onto the road. 

When the dust settles, Namjoon stands ahead of his gang where he is toe-to-toe with the Wolves’ leader, Bangchan. You move quietly through the rows of Dragons until you’re off to the left, farthest from the water. The position hides you enough to avoid unwanted attention but is still close enough to Namjoon in case of an emergency. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok stand at the back and sides, respectively, creating an invisible wall of your brother’s closest allies. 

Your eyes maneuver over the crowd of Wolves one at a time. Without their leather biker jackets which bear the insignia of each group, it would be impossible to tell them apart. They’re just a bunch of boys pretending to be men. 

None of them particularly stand out to you except — 

Head whipping back for a double take, the movement is so quick your ponytail snaps harshly against your skin. Your eyes slowly open wide, your mouth dropping open just enough for a sharp intake of air. Because amongst the crowd of Wolves, off to the left next to a shorter blonde guy is…

There’s no way. 

He certainly looks like Jungkook. His hair is falling down in soft waves just like Jungkook’s does and his unmistakable doe eyes are front and center without his glasses on. But this guy has a lip piercing and eyebrow piercing. His ears are decorated with pretty silver hoops and a dangling chain. The doppelganger is wearing a navy blue cut off, which reveals to your eyes that his entire arm, from wrist to shoulder, is covered in tattoos. Dark, colorful, intricate tattoos that look like they took years to build into the sleeve it is now. This can’t be the reason Jungkook only ever wears long sleeves and weirdly refuses to ever roll them up… can it?

You squint to make sure you’re seeing him correctly in the dim light. Jungkook must have a twin he never told you about, right? 

But no, that isn’t the answer, because his eyes land on you and widen dramatically. His mouth drops open before it snaps shut and his jaw clenches. From across the concrete where you stand you can see how his entire body is taut with tension.

What. The. Fuck. 

The blonde guy next to him notices the change in the air, nudging him with his elbow. Jungkook shoots him a hard glance before returning his gaze to you.

Part of you wants to cry, and part of you wants to scream. All of you wants to run to him and demand an answer. This guy is a straight A graduate student. What the hell is he doing running around with a bunch of delinquent motorcycle gang members?

The sound of your brother’s voice steals your attention away.

“That’s not what we do here,” he says to Chan. You’re unsure what it’s in response to.

“Hmm,” the man opposite him muses. “No I guess not, but you bring your girl around? That’s a little dangerous, don’t you think?”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks and his teeth grind together at the mention of you, but he hides it well. You only notice the movement because you know what every tick and twitch of his means.  

“Not my girl,” he corrects.

“Oh that’s right, I heard you have a baby sister,” he replies. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Your eyebrows lift when he calls out to you, but you know better. 

“Don’t speak to her,” Namjoon responds in your stead.

When you glance at Jungkook again he looks irrevocably angry, a deep frown messing with his pretty features. His fellow Wolf seems concerned at his mysterious attitude. 

Right now, you’re telepathically begging Jungkook to make eye contact again. To offer some explanation even with just his eyes. Sure, you don’t know much about each other’s lives outside of school but the feeling of betrayal slinks under your skin nonetheless. Mostly because of the fucking tattoo sleeve he’s been hiding from you.

His eyes do eventually meet yours, but his expression is cold. Is he upset at you for keeping this part of your life from him, too? 

The low grumble of taunts and heckles from both gangs indicates their playtime is over. When you look across the street, Jungkook is already climbing on his bike and putting on his helmet. You know without uncertainty now that it is in fact Jungkook, since a large purple “JK” emblem is painted onto his helmet.

Namjoon is quick to gesture you over to him. Your eyes meet Bangchan’s as you walk to the bike, and it disgusts you how he drinks you up and undresses you with his eyes when you pass by.

You scoff before getting back into position behind your brother and securing your helmet in place.

Jungkook is fucking reeling. He barely waits for the rest of his gang to peel away on their bikes before he’s taking off down the street. Jimin follows close behind him, the older biker probably still wondering what the fuck is going on. 

Rides are normally Jungkook’s way of clearing his head, but tonight all he can think and feel is his blood pumping with adrenaline. You are the last person he ever expected to be involved with a gang. It’s almost enough to make him laugh; all you wear are sexy little skirts and shirts with cartoon characters on them. You’re girly and adorable and should be spending your time at the mall, not in the underbelly of this messed up city. Although, if your involvement begins and ends with your brother, he imagines you don’t have much choice.

Jungkook makes it back to the house in record time, leaving everyone else in the dust. He is quick to cut the engine of his bike and toss his helmet aside so he can get inside. His hands run through his hair over and over as he trudges into the house, pulling at the ends as he grits his teeth.

The door slams shut behind him and he yells into the air with his head thrown back. Taehyung is rounding the corner from the kitchen when he hears it. He should be at the Dragon’s Lair right now ransacking the place, but Chan called it off when he found out the Dragons knew what they were planning. 

“Uh, you good?”

“No,” Jungkook sneers. “No, I’m not fucking good, Tae.”

Taehyung is about to probe him with more questions when Jimin flies through the door.

“What the fuck was that, kid?” Jimin sets his helmet down on the table and walks over.

“You guys remember the girl I was telling you about?” He asks. They both nod. “Yeah, well. She’s the leader of the Dragons fucking little sister.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing sticking your dick in someone involved with the Dragons?” Taehyung accuses.

“I didn’t know, Tae! I didn’t know until I saw her at the meet-up tonight,” Jungkook explains. 

“And she saw you?” Jimin asks.

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook laughs incredulously. “She looked shocked as hell and like she was about to cry.”

Taehyung and Jimin share a look while Jungkook practically rips his hair out from how much he’s combing his fingers through it. 

“You know you… can’t see her anymore, right?” Jimin poses the question cautiously. “If Kim Namjoon ever found out you’ve laid a finger on her he will fucking end you.”

“I know,” Jungkook grunts out. “I fucking know, Jimin.” Jungkook paces the room a couple times. “Fuck!” He slaps his hands against his face before groaning into them. 

“I mean, I know the pussy was good but it will be fine, right? It’s not like you were dating her,” Taehyung adds. 

Jungkook just glares at him from between his fingers. He doesn’t think he can talk about this anymore without losing his goddamn mind. He tells them goodnight without any further explanation before trudging down the stairs. 

He slams his door and chucks his leather jacket on a chair once he’s in the confines of his bedroom. He wants to scream again, but he doesn’t, tries to take deep breaths instead. The air feels thick and his shirt is suddenly too tight. 

His head is pounding with a headache that just sounds like you, you, you. 

The same you who is always on his mind, day or night. The girl he never rushes when you study together because he likes to watch the gears turn in your pretty little head. The girl he admires from his periphery as you doodle in your notebook. You, who he wants to kiss more than anything but he doesn’t because he’s terrified of scaring you away. 

Jungkook falls to his bed and covers his face with his hands. He’s in pure, unadulterated agony. His knuckles press into his eyelids as he groans. Lately, he’s been picturing so much for you and him. He daydreams about holding your hand and taking you out on dates and making love to you in his bed. It feels like there’s so much potential now shot in the face and gone in an instant. 

He knows he can’t continue on with you. It would be dangerous and reckless. Yet he wants to, he wants to so badly he can feel the need in his bones. 

He punches his pillow once, twice, and then sits up. He shakes his head as if that could dispel his thoughts of you. No, nothing will ever bring him to forget your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes, your soft skin. Or the way you moan, whimper, and cry when he’s making you come and fucking you nice and deep. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fuck someone who isn’t you again. No, you’ve completely and utterly ruined his body and mind. 

“God fucking dammit, Y/N,” he groans into his hands. 

He rips his shirt off over his head before falling back again. His chest is hot with anxiety and his nerves crackle with fear of the unknown. His heartbeat is thumping like a beast in a cage. 

Jungkook decides to let his frustration out in the best way he knows how. He kicks his pants off and pulls his boxers down, spitting into his hand to lube himself. A sigh of relief breaks from his chest as soon as he feels his hand around his cock. 

He’s not hard yet, not even close. But it’s stupidly easy how fast he gets his blood rushing down to his cock by merely thinking of you. The memory of your voice alone is enough to make him throb. 

You looked so gorgeous tonight he thought he was going to totally lose it when he first saw you. The smokey makeup and ponytail were a first for him. He loves the way you look normally, but your sultry eyes and grungy outfit made him want to do nasty fucking things to you. If he could've, he would've bent you over his bike and took you right there in front of everyone. Your goddamn brother included. 

His hand falls into a familiar rhythm as he strokes himself. He grunts when his thumb presses down on his head and swipes his precum across it. The rough skin of his hand is nothing compared to your mouth or pussy, but it’s enough to satiate him for now.

“Oh, pretty,” he moans into the air. 

His mind conjures images of you for his pleasure. Just yesterday when you were on your knees for him and the other week when he fucked you against the rattling bookshelves of the library. Finally, the first time he ate you out and you cried his name into your hand to keep yourself quiet. You were wearing his glasses that night and he remembers thinking even then that you’d be the end of him.

“My baby.”

Jungkook is coming all over himself before he knows it. He grunts and pants as he fucks himself through his orgasm. Your name leaves his lips in a desperate huff as he finally lets go of his cock and wipes his hand on a nearby towel. 

There’s two days before he’ll see you again in class. Jungkook has two days to decide whether or not he’s willing to go up against Dragon fire for you.

Your leg bounces anxiously beneath the desk as you wait for Jungkook to enter the classroom. It’s been two days since you found out he’s a Wolf and your mind has done nothing but spiral. You’re unsure how to feel or even what you have the right to feel. 

Is it technically a betrayal when neither of you knew about one another? It’s not like you asked him if he happens to be affiliated with any gangs. You should’ve. You freaking should’ve because now it’s biting you in the ass.

When he does finally enter, he looks like the normal Jungkook again. No piercings. Tattoos covered. Sexy nerd glasses on. It pisses you off more than it should. 

He doesn’t say anything to you as he takes his seat and you don’t dare to steal a glance at him. The two of you move in tension-thick silence before the professor starts the class. 

It’s a grueling hour and a half as you refrain from looking over or touching him. Normally, he forces his leg up against yours until you finally give in and play footsie with him. If not that, you gently graze his arm up and down, absentmindedly, as the professor drones on about whatever topic he’s covering that day. 

Class ends as your professor erases the chalkboard behind him. You stand abruptly and speed walk out of the room. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then you won’t talk to him. It’s simple, and you pretend your heart isn’t shattering in your chest. 

The call of your name stops you in your tracks. When you look back, Jungkook is jogging after you. When he reaches you, he stands at an awkwardly long distance away. Your eyebrows lift and you gesture with your hand for him to get on with it.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t reply, just turn on your heel and walk in the opposite direction. That is, the direction of the parking lot. He follows behind but leaves an obnoxious amount of space. It’s infuriating how his obvious respect for your boundaries gives you butterflies. He unlocks his car with a click and you aggressively plop down in the front seat. Making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and flipping your hair from your eyes.

Jungkook slides into the driver’s side with ease and turns on the heat before turning towards you. You look at him expectantly but he gestures for you to start.

“You’re in a gang,” you state matter-of-factly. “You have tattoos, an entire sleeve, I might add. You have piercings. You’re a fucking Wolf.”

Jungkook nods, licking his lip before he responds. 

“That’s all true, yeah,” he says. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” You finally face him. “You’re a graduate student with your entire life ahead of you. What are you doing running around with those losers?” You groan in frustration. “I mean, you’re like a delinquent Hannah Montana or some shit.”

Jungkook smiles at that. He does a once over of your face before inhaling. 

“When my parents died I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was already 18. I grew up with Jimin and he offered me a place to stay at the Wolf’s Den. Rest is history,” he explains. You watch his eyes as he tells his story. “I didn’t plan on going to college. I barely passed high school, anyway. But my parents left me money and put instructions in their will that it was to go to my schooling. I couldn’t let it go to waste. Couldn’t let them down.”

Your hand is grabbing his before you register yourself doing it. Rolling up his shirtsleeve to his elbow, you finally reveal his tattoos before your own eyes. Your fingers trace the intricate details of the artwork. He grabs your wrist in return and you feel his hand shaking. 

“How did they die?” 

“Drunk driver,” he answers. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You pull his shirt back down and lace your fingers with his. “But I’m sure they’re very proud of you.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” he admits.

You take his face in your hand and force him to look at you.

“Jungkook, you're the top of our class. You can be anything you want to be or do anything you want to do.” you say. “If that’s not something to be proud of, I’m not sure what is.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not leading anywhere after this,” he replies. 

“Why not? Do you seriously want to be involved in this stuff forever? The violence and the rivalries and all the bullshit,” you ask as your voice raises. 

“I’ve never known a life other than this, Y/N! The Wolves are my family. I don’t have anyone else,” he matches your volume. 

You pull away from him with a huff. You’re not sure why you’re so determined to convince him to do something more with his life. But if you have to guess, you imagine it’s because you’re trying and failing to do so yourself. 

“You have me,” you admit quietly into the air between you. It’s a weighted confession. A piece of your true feelings on display for him to see.

Jungkook’s hand cradles your jaw and he looks at you so adoringly that you want to shy away. His thumb is brushing back and forth across your cheekbone. It’s the most gentle affection he’s ever shown you. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I have you.”

He’s kissing you before you even register it. You moan happily against his lips as they move delicately across your own. Jungkook usually handles you like wants to break you, but the way he kisses is the exact opposite. His mouth and his warmth are mending things he wasn’t the one to break. Your hands snake around his neck to pull him closer and he moans when your fingers thread through his hair. 

It’s only your first kiss even after all the time you’ve spent together. It’s magical and romantic and you never want it to end. 

Jungkook grabs you by the waist to pull you into his lap. Your back hits the steering wheel and the horn honks. You giggle into each other’s mouths but never once stop kissing. You’re both smiling and it causes your teeth to clash, but not even that stops you. 

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth. It tangles with your own as he pulls on the hair trapped between his fingers. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he admits against your lips. “Your brother… he’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you?” You murmur before trailing kisses across his sharp jaw. 

“Because I want you too bad to stay away,” he answers. “I want you all the time, baby.”

Your lips meet his again and the kiss grows desperate. Shifting in his lap to move closer, you run your hands up and down the planes of his chest. 

“You have me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you reveal. 

He pulls back with a shake of his head.

“Not just like this. Not just sex. I want movie dates and sleepless nights. I want to hold your hand and take you out to dinner. I want all of you, Y/N.” He pushes your hair from your face. His eyes are brimming with adoration and melancholy. “But I don’t know how to do that when you are who you are.” 

Your hands grip his shirt as your head falls against his chest. You release a shaky exhale as your mind shuffles through the millions of emotions in your head. It settles on sorrow. Jungkook holds you close to him, cradling you in his arms.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess. “I care about you so much.”

You feel Jungkook pressing a kiss to your hair and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. He’s everything you could ever want and yet nothing you can ever have. 

“I care about you, too, pretty,” he whispers. “So, so much.”

“If this is the last time…” your voice trails off, but Jungkook understands.

He maneuvers you over him and works to move both your clothes out of the way. All while kissing you again and again anywhere he can reach. Your lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin. He’s trying to savor this and commit it to memory before it’s gone forever. Before you’re gone. 

His fingers move along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing it up to your clit. You moan into his mouth and buck your hips against his hand. He expertly massages your pussy in a way only he knows how until you’re wet enough to take him. 

Jungkook stops kissing you momentarily so he can see what he’s doing when he lines himself up. His cock enters you slowly, but you can feel every ridge and curve of him as you sink down deeper into his lap. He kisses your neck as you begin to bounce on him. Your nails bite into his skin as you use his shoulders for leverage.

It doesn’t take long for you both to come, Jungkook’s seed warming you from the inside and bringing forth your own orgasm. The entire time you never once stop kissing, because you’re making up for lost time and saying goodbye all at once. 

Except the goodbye never comes. There’s an attempt, and you go one time seeing each other without hooking up, but that’s the only time. The next time you’re in class together, almost the very second it ends, Jungkook is pushing you into an empty classroom. He kisses you until you can’t see straight, then eats you out and fucks you on the professor’s desk. After that, you both realize you’re too weak for each other to ever stay away. 

Things go on like that for a while, a few months at most. You don’t talk about the massive elephant in the room when you’re together. Just touch and kiss each other to your heart's content like it isn’t the most dangerous game you’ll ever play. 

The realization that Namjoon is aware of your entanglements comes after he suggests a ride together down to the bay, a familiar place you used to go as teenagers. You don’t question it because it’s been a while since you’ve spent some real time together and your brother is a bigger softie than anyone is allowed to know. 

You ride along the shoreline together before he stops the bike in the middle of some abandoned buildings a few yards from the bay. Ships are docking for the night and some children play around the rocky shore with their parents close by. 

“Aren’t we going over there?” You ask, pointing to the usual spot.

Namjoon shakes his head.

“Gotta show you something first,” he tells you. 

Taking your hand, he leads you towards one of the buildings. You watch him quizzically as he pries open one of the rusted doors and holds it open for you. He stands back to allow you to take in the scene.

You don’t realize it’s him at first because his head is down. All you notice is two Dragon lackeys holding someone taut between them as they wait for instruction at the center of the room. But then he pushes against their restraints, grunting and tugging on their arms as hard as he can and you gasp in horror.

You’re running to him before you can think twice. Your hands instinctively reach out for his face, lifting it so you can see him properly. He already has a swollen black eye and a busted lip.

Your pupils shake as tears form in your eyes. 

“Let him go,” you command.

Namjoon walks in slowly and takes his time examining the scene before him. Maybe this is a test to see if the rumor he heard was true. Clearly, you failed.

“Can’t do that, bug,” Namjoon says from behind you. “Wolves who touch what doesn’t belong to them pay the price.”

“It’s not like that, Joonie,” you snap. You push some of Jungkook’s hair away from his face. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing giving him air to breathe. You shake your head, hoping he can read your mind that is screaming I’m sorry. 

“What’s it like then?” Namjoon crosses his arms across his chest. 

“He’s in my graduate class. I didn’t even know he was a Wolf at first,” you say. 

Namjoon steps forward so he’s next to you and tugs on your arms so you let go of Jungkook. You take a tentative step away, not recognizing the look in your brother’s eyes. 

“Hmm, and when you found out… what did you do?” 

“I…”

“When you found out the man you’d been sleeping with was a goddamn fucking Wolf, what did you do, Y/N?” He shouts. 

He’s never spoken to you like this. Has never even raised his voice at you. You don’t have an answer for him. You can’t look him in the eye and admit you willingly betrayed him. 

Namjoon sneers at your silence. He motions for the men to drop Jungkook and he falls to his knees with a grunt. Your body involuntarily steps towards him until Namjoon shoots you a murderous glare. 

Jungkook looks up at the leader of the Dragons from where he kneels before him. You can’t see his expression, but you can tell from his body language he’s resigned to his fate. 

Your brother throws a punch to Jungkook’s face and it connects with a crack. You can’t stop yourself from looking away and snapping your eyes shut. Jungkook spits out blood before Namjoon is forcing him by the jaw to look up at him again.

“You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Namjoon punches him in the same spot again and you bury your face in your hands. 

Your brother is relentless in his assault. He just punches and punches until his knuckles split and Jungkook’s face is covered in blood and open wounds. You don’t look up. Your head is too heavy with the guilt to even attempt it. 

You’re sobbing into your hands as you listen to the bone-crushing noise. It repeats and repeats like Satan’s broken record. You’re completely helpless to do anything but stand by in terror. 

Namjoon lets go of where he’s holding him by his shirt and Jungkook immediately falls over, catching himself with his hands as he pants and tries to inhale through his busted nose and mouth. 

Instantly, you’re on your knees in front of him, cradling his head to your chest as you try to wipe the blood with your shirt. 

Jungkook groans into you, his hands weakly coming around your waist to hold onto you. You’re crying so hard you can barely see straight, but you force yourself to do anything you can to help him. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook moans against your shirt and you bend your head to kiss his hair. “S’okay.” His words only bring forth more tears.

“No, it’s not,” you sob. 

Namjoon pulls you away from him by your arm before nodding at the two men. The Dragons begin to kick and punch Jungkook in his ribs, chest, and stomach. It only takes a few hits before Jungkook’s weight gives out and he crashes to the floor. They continue relentlessly.

“No! No, please!” You turn towards your brother while still on your knees. The sound of Jungkook being beaten is piercing your eardrums and throwing off your equilibrium. “Please, Joonie, make them stop.” You grab onto your brother’s legs and sob against him. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just stop hurting him.”

Namjoon forces your head up. He looks so disgusted at your pathetic display of affection for someone he’s raised you to hate. 

“Why should I?” His voice is pure venom.

“Because… because I love him, Namjoon,” you admit for the first time out loud.

Your brother’s eyes turn razor sharp. He gazes towards where his men are still having their fill with Jungkook’s battered body.

“Stop,” he orders them. The room goes eerily quiet. Your heart only continues beating because you can hear Jungkook wheezing out breath. He’s still alive. That’s all that matters. “I’ll stop if you swear to me you’ll never see or speak to him ever again.”

“I swear, Namjoon,” you reply without missing a beat. 

“If you disobey me,” he threatens. “I won’t have a choice, do you understand?” You nod. “Say you understand, Y/N.”

“I understand,” you shout back. 

He steps away from you and you collapse onto your hands. Grabbing you by the shoulder he yanks you up and orders his men to leave first. You don’t look back as he drags you from the warehouse and shuts the door behind him.

When you return home, you run upstairs to the safety of your bedroom. Cradling your phone in your shaky hands, you find the number Jungkook input for emergencies only. Namjoon deleted Jungkook’s contact from your phone as soon as you left the warehouse, but he doesn't know you have a different Wolf’s number, too.

The phone rings three times before someone answers. 

“Hello?” You’ve never heard the voice on the other end before.

“Is this Jimin?”

“Who’s asking?” He sounds rightfully suspicious.

“Listen, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but you have to go to the warehouse district by the bay. Jungkook he’s… he’s hurt really bad, okay? He needs your help,” you explain through fresh tears. “Please, you have to help him.”

“Is this who I think it is?”

“Please, Jimin. He’s in the building with the blue door and green-tinted windows,” you tell him. “Hurry.”

You cut the line before he can ask you anything further. The only thing you can do is fall into your bed and wail as you pray his friends make it in time. 

Jungkook can’t move from his spot on the cold concrete floor. He tries; tries using his hands to pull himself up but he just falls back with a thump. His breath is coming out of him in thin wheezes and every time he inhales he feels a sharp tug as his lungs. He knows he’ll die here if someone doesn’t find him, which is highly unlikely. 

Despite his injuries causing every nerve ending in his body to sizzle and burn, all he can think about is you. Your sobs and pleas and how quiet your voice was when you admitted you love him. It’s pathetic how undeniably happy he was in that moment even as his lungs were caving in and his ribs were splintering. 

You love him enough to let him go. Jungkook doesn’t know if he himself is that strong. If in your place he would be able to swear the same way you did. He hopes so, that somehow a piece of your virtue has rubbed off on him through your time together. 

He hears the door creak open and his first thought is that Namjoon sent his goons back to finish the job. But then he’s being lifted from the floor and familiar voices filter in through his waning consciousness. 

“Fuck, kid,” Taehyung curses as he rolls Jungkook over to examine his injuries. “What did you get yourself into?”

Jungkook grasps at his side as the pain splinters across his back and chest. The pain is scalding and it radiates across his entire body in waves that threaten to pull him under. 

“Is he breathing?” Jimin’s voice rings out. 

“Yeah. His eyes aren’t open, though. Don’t know if he even can with how bad his face is,” Taehyung explains to his companion. 

Jimin curses when he sees his younger friend’s condition. He has to look away for a moment, unable to tolerate seeing his little brother like this. 

“I’ll fucking kill those bastards,” he grits his teeth, sneering.

“No, you won’t,” Taehyung sighs. “This is penance. Jungkook is lucky he’s alive right now.”

The two men end their conversation to help Jungkook up from the floor. It isn’t easy. There’s blood everywhere and Jungkook screams in agony as they jostle his broken body around to carry him. He’s heavier than both of them combined and if it weren’t for Taehyung’s recent time spent at the gym, it would be physically impossible. 

Taehyung ends up carrying him back to back, with Jungkook lying as flat as possible while Taehyung takes slow, heavy steps towards the door. Jimin carries his feet gently behind them since their similar heights leave the bottom half of Jungkook’s legs dragging on the floor. 

Somehow, they make it out and get him into the backseat of the car where they’ve laid towels and sheets down to soak up the blood. Jungkook groans endlessly as the car flies through the city streets towards the hospital. 

His friends know he has an emergency fund set up by his parents they can use to pay for his admission. If he didn’t, his fate would be up to whatever member of their gang has the most medical experience. 

Jungkook spends the next two weeks in the hospital. By the time he’s discharged he still can’t open his left eye, has more than 100 stitches, and is wrapped up like a mummy to help his bones and muscles heal. His ribs punctured his lungs so he’s on medication to insure he can breathe properly. He’ll be sequestered to his bed per doctor’s orders for at least two months. Luckily, the semester just ended, so he won’t miss any classes while he’s recovering. 

His gang members take care of him and help him in any way they can, but they can only assist with his physical injuries. There’s nothing anyone can do about his broken heart. 

He lies in bed day and night, just staring at his ceiling as he daydreams about you being here to care for him. Your warm hands brushing his hair out of his face and your lips pressing a peck to his cheek. Jungkook swears he can hear you giggling as you tell him he “still looks handsome, even like this.” 

Jungkook knows in his bones that you were a mistake. He should’ve cut things off when he had the chance after he found out who you are. And yet, he can’t bring himself to think of you as such. It’s impossible for him to regret even a single moment of the time he spent with you. 

Every minute he’s awake he wonders what you’re doing and if you’re alright. Are you enjoying your time off from school? What activities and hobbies do you enjoy when you’re alone? Are you missing him the way he’s missing you?

It’s ironic, but he also hopes you aren’t still angry with your brother. Being a leader means doing what you have to do and Jungkook hopes you can forgive him. He knows how much Namjoon means to you and he can’t live with himself knowing he’s the thing that’s driving a wedge between you.

When he’s asleep, he dreams of you, and there are varying types of them. There are beautiful, soft, soothing dreams where he just gets to hold you and listen to your voice talk about nothing at all. Ones where he gets to confess that he loves you, too, and that he wants to be with you more than anything in the world. Then there’s the sexy, unbridled, wet dreams that have him gasping and sweating when he wakes up. He dreams of you on top of him as you whisper how much you need him into his ear. There’s another where he’s pounding you into his mattress as he kisses your neck, shoulders, and tits. He doesn’t even know what your actual breasts look like; he never got the chance to see you like that. One night his mind combines both the hard and soft and he dreams up an entire day spent with you. Where he takes you out for dinner and a movie, then brings you back to his place to worship your body, falls asleep with you on his chest, and then wakes up to do it all over again. Jungkook wonders if he should just sleep all the time so he can be with you.

His reality without you is bleak, grave, and dark. There’s no light in his world anymore and he doesn’t know how long he can go without seeing you or hearing your voice. 

Jungkook makes a full recovery before the next semester starts. Luckily, he doesn’t have too many scars on his face anymore from the incident. When he looks in the mirror, it finally looks like him staring back again.

On the first day of classes Jungkook prays you’re in the same one again, but he doesn’t see you anywhere. His eyes constantly scan the hallways and classrooms for any sign of you, but to no avail. It’s killing him not knowing where you are. 

He spends his days anxiously bouncing his knee below the desk as he attempts to listen to his professors. Sometimes, he’ll see a glimmer of someone who could be you, only to find out it’s not, and fall back into his usual disappointment. 

By the time he does see you again, six months have passed. He wishes the reunion had been happy, or that it was even a reunion at all. Instead it’s just him, standing at the entrance of the building as he watches you race in the opposite direction before hopping into a car with a Dragon. 

When he gets home he enters with his head down. After getting his first glimpse of you in six months, he isn’t ready to converse with anyone from his gang. 

But he doesn’t get the chance to head downstairs right away. 

His gang is congregated in the living room. There’s an intense tension in the air Jungkook doesn’t know how to name. He steps into the room and it feels like the air gets sucked out of it. As if everyone is suddenly statues in a graveyard. Jimin and Taehyung eye him carefully as he walks forwards towards their leader.

Bangchan is conversing intensely with some of his right hand men, but he turns towards Jungkook when he notices him approaching. Chan clears his throat and grabs the younger man’s shoulder, then he speaks a truth that has Jungkook’s heart sinking in his chest. 

“Kim Namjoon is dead.”

You’re a zombie among the living and you have been for some time now. Ever since Jungkook was forcefully ripped from your life, you’re a shell of the woman you once were. The time off from school moves like honey dripping from a spoon as you spend every waking moment wondering how he’s doing. You don’t even know if he’s alive or not. 

There’s a tsunami of relief that moves through you when you find out he’s alive and fully recovered. You only know because you hear some girls in the library talking about him once classes start back up. The jealousy from their whispers about him doesn’t have anywhere within you to take root. The soil of your heart is salted and rotting. 

Every single day you fight the urge to go to him, but you refuse to risk his life again. The pain of missing him is incomprehensible. You feel it in your heart and lungs as they work overtime to soothe the ache of being apart. But none of it even comes close to the nightmares and memories of hearing his bones break and his breathing wane. Night terrors overtake you for months following the incident. Images of him bleeding and broken in a heap on the floor while you stand helpless to stop it. 

You haven’t spoken a single word to Namjoon since that night. He tries, but you shut yourself in your room or leave the house entirely. You haven’t heard your brother’s deep and melodious voice in six months now. You’re uncertain if you have the strength within you to forgive him. Maybe one day, once the Dragons and the Wolves are just a distant nightmare you never have to experience again. 

The day starts like any other. Yoongi drops you off at the university and you thank him before heading to class. The topics and lectures are boring, per usual, as you doodle in your notebook alongside the actual notes you take. You’re out of focus these days but you manage to keep your grades up. It’s hard without your study buddy. 

The call comes a little before your last lecture is supposed to start. It’s Seokjin, and you know something is wrong as soon as you answer. 

“You need to come home. Something’s happened,” he says. 

“Seokjin, I don’t —”

“It’s Joonie,” his voice breaks.

Your heart sinks into an abyss so deep you’re certain it will never rise again. 

You’re running before the call even drops. The last thing Seokjin tells you is that Yoongi is waiting for you at the entrance. Propelling your feet forward even though you want to collapse, you bolt out of the building and make it to Yoongi’s car in an instant. 

Yoongi is speeding off before the door has had time to shut. He doesn’t say anything. Just stares straight ahead with tears rolling down his face like rain. 

When you reach the house, the silence seems to stretch infinitely. There are no birds chirping or trees billowing in the wind. It’s absolutely stone cold silent. You wonder if the apocalypse came while you were in the car. The door to the house creaks open and the sound of people breathing and the AC blasting is somehow deafening in comparison. 

Your feet move on their own because your mind is too busy hiding from what it knows is about to come. 

Namjoon is lying on the couch with one arm falling limp over the edge of the cushion. He looks like he’s taking one of his infamous naps. The ones that always happen after he’s been reading for too long. The only thing missing from the scene is an open book lying across his chest. You stop a few feet away and stare at his chest, the one you spent your entire childhood lying on and slapping whenever he made you angry. You will it to move with your mind, imagine it rising and falling and attempt a manifestation of the sight into reality. After counting to ten without seeing it rise, you collapse. 

A scream rips out of your throat as you bring your forehead to the hardwood floor beneath you. Your entire body is shaking so violently that the zippers on your clothes rattle. Someone who smells like Hoseok comes behind you, holding you up against him as you sob hard enough to make yourself sick.

“No,” you wail helplessly into his shoulder. 

Hoseok releases you when you begin to push against his hold. You crawl towards your brother on your hands and knees. When you reach him you caress his face and push his hair out of his eyes. He hates it when it gets in his eyes. 

“Joonie,” you whisper to only him. “Joonie, you gotta wake up.” You gasp for air. “I need my big brother. Please, please, for me, you have to wake up.”

He doesn’t respond. You already know he can’t. It doesn’t matter. You’ll speak nonsense to him until his body begins to decay. 

Throwing yourself on top of him, you cry into his bloodstained clothes. He’s still warm even though he’s hard to the touch. You aren’t sure if there’s a scientific explanation or if your brother’s soul is just so warm that it left behind a signature. 

No one moves. Every member of the Dragons just watches in agony as you mourn your brother. Their beloved leader. 

You want to die. You want to take one of the switchblades amongst the men in the room and slit your throat. Let your blood congeal with your brother’s and have them bury you together. 

Namjoon probably wants to force his way out the afterlife, barreling through anyone in his path, even God himself, just to yell at you for even thinking about it. He raised you to be strong, but you don’t know what strength is without him. 

His three best friends help you up once your cries subside into dry whimpers. They help you walk, one with his arm around your waist, the other two with their arms around your shoulders and arm, up the stairs to your room. 

As gently as three gang members can, they lay you in your bed. Yoongi takes your shoes off for you and Hoseok pulls the blankets over you. 

You grab Seokjin’s hand before they have a chance to leave.

“Please don’t… don’t move him yet,” you croak through your sore vocal chords. “I need to be there. It should be up to me how we… how we bury him.”

Seokjin assures you they won’t as tears fall from his eyes. The two of you share a meaningful glance. A secret only the three of you shared and will be buried along with your brother.

Your tears put you to sleep. It’s completely dreamless. Just black, empty darkness that feels infinite. You wonder if this endless void is your new reality. 

The sound of knocking is what wakes you up. You’re still in delirium as you sit up and attempt to find the source of the sound. When you do, you gasp, pulling the covers away and springing from the bed.

You push your window up, reaching your hand out for the guest hanging onto your ledge with his fingertips. 

Jungkook steps into your room one leg at a time, ducking down so he fits through the opening. When he stands to his full height, you think you’re still dreaming. It isn’t until he speaks that you realize you aren’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I had to see you, I couldn’t —”

Your mouth clips his sentence in half. Hands tugging at his shirt, you pull him into you as you kiss him. He’s still as a statue at first, confusion evident in the way his brow creases. But then you feel his hands on your waist and he pulls you closer, matching the rhythm of your mouth against his. 

Your foreheads touch as you exhale into the air between you. Eyes still closed, you let the feeling of him and his warmth take you under and into his current. 

“I missed you,” you say. Jungkook’s hands squeeze your hips. “I missed you so much, Jungkook.” 

Your head drops to his shoulder as you cry. He pulls you into him and holds you there with his hand against your head. He combs his fingers through your hair and kisses down the side of your face. Anything he can think to do to bring you some sort of comfort. 

“I’m here, pretty,” he tells you. “Not going anywhere.”

He guides you over to your bed as your breathing levels out again. You sit next to one another and Jungkook caresses your hand. Every once in a while bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles one by one. 

With your free hand you grab his chin, turning his face back and forth before you breathe out a laugh.

“You’re still so handsome,” you say after analyzing his features. The scars embedded in his honey skin are faint. “I almost forgot how handsome you are.” 

Jungkook shakes his head.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” he responds. He pulls you closer so your knees touch. The silent moments between you are comfortable. You don’t need to speak, just be near. After a while Jungkook licks his lips and says, “I’m so, so sorry about your brother, Y/N.”

Your hand grips his fingers harder as reality slowly creeps back in. 

“I…” you have to inhale before you can continue. “The last time I ever spoke to him was that night.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and then soften into something that looks like guilt. As if him being brutally beaten was his own doing. 

“Baby,” Jungkook calls to you. 

You shake your head. There is no going back now and you aren’t sure you would if given the chance. Maybe just to tell Namjoon you love him one more time, but nothing further. His death doesn’t take away from him hurting you. 

“I didn’t know if you were dead or alive until classes started again,” you tell him. “I had nightmares every night about what they did to you. The way your bones sounded when they —”

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m right here. I’m fine,” Jungkook reassures you. 

“You weren’t fine, though,” you snap. “I wasn’t fine. He took you from me, Jungkook.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I told him my feelings for you and he still made me stay away.”

Jungkook doesn’t have a response because he knows everything you’re feeling isn’t black and white. The grief is mixing with the anger and the sadness into a devastating combination of emotions. So he holds you instead, pulls you across his lap so your thighs are resting on either side of him. Brushes his fingers up your back in a soothing pattern while you rest your head on his shoulder. 

After a while of comforting silence, your lips find the mole on his neck. It’s just a tentative kiss at first, but then you’re kissing him harder and sucking on the sensitive skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His hands caress your hips tentatively, fingers reaching up and brushing against the skin beneath your top. 

“Pretty,” Jungkook sighs. “We don’t have to —”

“I need you, Jungkook,” you say as you face him. You don’t mean it sexually, even though sex is exactly what you’re asking for. The need to feel him close is just so great, that his touch is the only thing that can quell it. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, heard him, or touched him, and you’re desperate to feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers just so you know he’s here and he’s alive. “Please, baby.”

Jungkook nods and kisses you slowly, tasting you on his tongue as your hips begin to grind against him. His hands guide you across his lap in slow circles. You feel him growing hard, causing you to moan into his mouth. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, cradling your neck to keep your head still as he chases your lips. 

Your hands find his shoulders and use the leverage to grind down harder against the evident bulge in his pants. You groan at the feeling of it rubbing against your clit through your clothes. Jungkook growls deep in his throat when you pick up the pace. His lips are all over you. He kisses down your face and across your jaw. Sucks on your neck and drags his tongue along your hot skin before biting into your jugular. Your gasp slowly morphs into a moan. 

Jungkook moves away for a split second so he can tug your top over your head. His eyes drop down to your covered chest to see what he’s been dying to all this time. He cups your breasts in his hands, massaging and pushing them together before bending down to kiss the tops of them. 

You reach back to unclip your bra and Jungkook moans as it falls away. He’s never gotten to see you like this before; feel your soft skin under his hands like this. Now unimpeached, Jungkook takes one of your nipples in his mouth while twisting the other between his fingers. You throw your head back as you pant in ecstasy. 

“Jungkook,” you whine as he gives your other breast the same attention. “Feels so good.”

When he’s done, he kisses his way back up to your lips. Your hand tangles into his long hair and your nails scratch at his scalp. Your free hand tugs at the hem of his top. Jungkook chuckles at your silent signal before removing his shirt with one hand. 

Seeing him unobstructed for the first time is pure heaven. Hands tracing over his shoulders and down his chest, scratching your nails across the abs you knew he had. When he pulls you close, the skin to skin contact you’ve been aching for is like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.

Jungkook’s warm hands are sprawled across your back as your pussy moves expertly against him. Part of you wants to just keep going like this until you both come in your pants, but most of you wants him naked and beneath you in your bed.

Jungkook obliges without needing to be told. He lifts you enough to lie you back and crawls over you, pushing your thighs apart with his knee. You reach for him and he kisses your fingers before meeting you again at your lips. His hands are working your jeans off you while he ravishes your lips and jaw. 

When they’re off, he sits back on his heels to look at you. This is the sight he’s been waiting for and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. His hands grip your thighs and he squeezes to watch your flesh move between his fingers. 

“So beautiful, baby,” he praises you. He starts kissing you again at your collarbones before inching down slowly. After his mouth leaves your breasts he kisses down your stomach. “I love you,” he whispers directly into your skin. You aren’t sure you heard him right, but then he repeats himself as he kisses across your hips. “I love you… I love you… I love you.” 

It comes out of his mouth like a prayer and you’re his only deity. Bittersweet tears roll down your cheeks at his confession. Your fingers thread into his hair as he finally reaches your pussy. He kisses you once on your mound before pulling your underwear down your legs so he can taste you. 

He kisses you slowly, reverently. At first it’s so soft and light you barely feel him, but then his tongue swipes across your folds and you moan desperately. His hands grip the back of your thighs to pull you closer, burying his face into your cunt. He groans in pleasure, his mouth and tongue alternating between licking and kissing you while his nose teases your clit. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he grunts as he dives back in for more. 

You’re a complete mess above him. Hair strewn haphazardly across the pillow, nipples swollen and erect, panting out breaths with dried tears all down your face.

Jungkook moves to suck on your clit and then kitten licks at it, using a finger to push your hood back and drive you into oversensitivity. You cover your mouth with your hand to scream into it. Your hips chase his mouth and he lets you. He just moans into your cunt as you ride his face. 

Jungkook grips you tighter to still you, not letting you grind anymore so he can go into overdrive against your hole. He fucks you with his tongue and then licks all the way up to your clit before staying there. He flattens his tongue against the nub and moves his face back and forth. Pulls back and spits directly on it before rubbing it in with the tip of his tongue. 

Your orgasm pulls you beneath the waves of ecstasy and you welcomely drown in it. It happens without warning, but Jungkook already knows. He knows your body like it’s his own and he growls as you come on his face and he drinks every last drop. 

Gasping for any air you can find, Jungkook kisses across your thighs and bites at your flesh. You grab him by the shoulder to bring him back to you. You taste yourself on his lips, your cum smearing across the bottom half of your face. 

Your hands are quick to undo Jungkook’s belt and pull down the zipper of his jeans. You start palming him through his boxers before his pants are fully off. He groans into your mouth before kissing your neck and biting at your earlobe, letting his tongue trace the perimeter of it. 

You want to see him fully and appreciate him in all his glory, so you use your legs to wrap around his own and flip him onto his back. He looks a little shocked at you doing anything even remotely dominant, but the fire in his eyes tells you exactly how much he loves it. 

His neck is your first target as you lick the sweaty skin and press wet kisses all over his throat and shoulder. As your lips move down his torso, your hands follow closely behind, digging your nails into his skin and creating red marks in their wake. He grunts and bucks his hips as you finish your assault on his delicious abdominal muscles. Your eyes roll back when you count eight of them. 

You pull his boxers down and off, all without ever breaking eye contact. Crawling back over him, you take in his entire body laid before you for the first time. He’s so beautiful you could cry. 

Pumping his cock with your warm hand, you move to taste him when he stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“No, pretty,” he starts. “It’s not about me tonight. Just wanna make you feel good.” You pout and he soothes you by sitting up and pushing your hair away from your face. “Will you let me?” He kisses you softly, but with all his devotion. “Let me make love to you?”

You close your eyes and nod. He kisses the skin of your eyelids adoringly before lying you beneath him again. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. His cock is teasing your clit while he swipes through your folds to lube himself with your cum. He thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the feel of him again after so long apart.

Your nails rake down his back and across his shoulders as he splits you apart on his cock. You can feel him throbbing deep inside your walls and it’s as though your entire body was created for this very moment. 

When you don’t show any signs of discomfort, Jungkook begins thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. He lays on top of you with his forearms carrying his weight. His body is so familiar and yet everything feels brand new. 

Your legs wrap around his stupidly tiny waist and an actual laugh escapes you. His questioning eyes find yours.

“What do you have such a small waist for, huh? It’s unfair. It’s smaller than mine,” you explain. 

Jungkook tsks at you before kissing your cheek. 

“Your waist is perfect,” he says. “You’re fucking perfect.”

His thrusts are slower than normal, but just as deep. The motion pushes you up the bed each time he enters your pussy and Jungkook has to use his hands to protect your head from hitting the headboard. He grinds his hips down in conjunction with his strokes and it forces his cock right into your g-spot.

Your moans are just one endless stream of sound because it feels too heavenly to do anything else. His name filters between them to create a melody meant only for his ears. 

His body is bringing you forms of pleasure you’ve never experienced with anyone else and yet you care more about the feeling of his warm body against yours. It’s his skin and sweat, the goosebumps on his arms, his hair tickling your face, that truly means the most to you. He’s here in your arms, heart beating up against your own and it almost brings tears to your eyes again. You almost lost him.

You aren’t able to focus on your sentiments for much longer because he pulls back and lifts your ankles to his shoulders and then bends you in half, the back of your thighs touching his chest. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” you gasp. The push and pull of Jungkook’s dick at this angle has your nails nearly puncturing the skin of his shoulder. 

“I got you, pretty,” he states. 

He kisses your calf next to his face and you feel warm all over. Through your legs you can see the way his thick cock comes out coated in your essence before it disappears into you again. Jungkook is watching the same way you are, his mouth open in awe of how well your pussy sucks him in over and over.

The position is too good for your mind to fully comprehend, but you need him closer. You want your skin pressed together as one in every possible place it can. You grab at him and he gets the message, letting your legs fall back to his hips. His elbows are next to your ears as he stretches your hole open for him repeatedly. 

His cock fills you so perfectly that you feel every ridge and vein against your velvet walls. The friction is debilitating and sends your mind into a frenzy. You’re crying tears of pleasure that Jungkook kisses away before devouring your mouth. Gripping his ass, you thrust up against him in an attempt to sink him deeper inside you even though you swear you feel him in your stomach already. 

It’s not enough. Nothing with Jungkook will ever feel like enough when your body wants him so insatiably. But right now, you need more. 

“Jungkook,” you pant. He makes a sound of affirmation as he mouths at your jaw. “Stop playing nice.”

Jungkook lifts his head to look at you. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to give you a chance to take back your instruction. You stare him down with a matching intensity instead.

The sound of his deep chuckle is right next to your ear and your heart races in anticipation. 

In an instant, your hands are forced above your head by one of his own, crossing your wrists over each other and lacing his fingers between the ones he can reach. He pushes at them once, as if telling you not to try anything. When you open your mouth to moan, Jungkook crashes into your lips and spits into your mouth. You’re gasping as you swallow his saliva. His free hand teasingly traces your skin from your hip to your knee, creating fiery goosebumps along your flesh, before he grabs you by the knee and forces your leg up higher on his hip, creating an even closer angle.

He rears back slowly, leaving just his tip in for a lingering moment. Jungkook waits until you whine pathetically at the emptiness, your hips bucking up in desperation. Your pussy clenches around nothing as it begs for him to come back home. Once there are tears pricking at your eyes and he thinks you’ve waited long enough, he slams into you so hard your vision goes out. 

He clasps his hand over your mouth before you can scream. His pace is downright fucking demonic as he pistons his cock into you. You’re screaming and drooling against his hand as tears wet your cheeks. You cannot comprehend how this is the same man who kissed his love into your stomach and hips. You worry you’ll look up and his eyes will be glowing red with the fires of hell. 

This is months of being separated coming to a head. All the fear, rage, depression, and guilt pooling in your stomachs and physically manifesting into a miasma of pleasure. Every thought and worry you felt for one another is pouring over your bodies like acid, burning you in a scorching heat that only the other can quench. 

You’re close and Jungkook can tell by the way your cunt flutters around him. His mouth replaces his hand as he kisses you, letting go of your hands above your head so he can grasp your hips. Your arms snake around his back and into his hair, tugging on the strands to pull him away so you can kiss the veins popping out in his neck. 

“Need to feel you come, pretty,” he grunts. 

A breathy moan is your only response because words are failing you. Jungkook angles your hips up so his tip is kissing you in just the right spot. His thrusts have slowed again but are deeper than ever, so passionate in his pursuit to pleasure you that your orgasm pulls you into a different plane of existence entirely. 

Your hand grips Jungkook’s hair impossibly tight as your pussy spasms around him. Jungkook groans loudly, his head tipping back as you come around him. 

Jungkook usually loves to fill you up and watch it drip out, but for some reason the need to paint you in his seed overwhelms him. He pulls out and fists his cock as hot spurts of cum fall across your stomach, tits, and thighs. 

You moan appreciatively at the feeling and watch in awe at the way it drips from his tip and onto your skin. Instinctively, your mouth opens as you stare into Jungkook’s fucked-out eyes. He hears your message loud and clear, using his fingers to scoop some of his cum from your belly before feeding it to you. You suck it off his fingers without breaking eye contact until you roll your eyes and moan at the taste of him.

Jungkook is panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as he stares at the mess he made of you. 

“Fuck, pretty,” he exhales. 

You sit up on your elbows and smile at his artwork across your body. 

“You could always lick it off of me, ya know,” you suggest. 

Jungkook laughs.

“Don’t get me going again, my love,” he responds. “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” 

Jungkook’s eyes darken and he runs his hands through his hair. After taking a moment to stare you down, he steals your hands and pins them above your head. His lips are touching yours by just a hair when he responds. 

“It’s a promise… for another day,” he states. 

You pout and he kisses it away before finally leaving you to find something to clean you with. You nod your head towards your en-suite bathroom and he comes back with a warm towel. 

You run your fingers through the front of his hair as he delicately wipes his own cum from your soft skin. When he’s done he bends down to kiss your stomach before returning the towel to the bathroom. 

When he returns you’re sitting up and pulling a baggy shirt over your head. Jungkook slips on his boxers and sits next to you, pulling your feet into his lap and caressing your ankles.

Fingers fiddling in your lap, you chew on your lip as you think about the path that lies ahead. There is still so much left unanswered and it terrifies you. 

You have to bury your brother and the Dragons need a new leader. Your only tie to the gang is now gone. The gang would never kick you out of the house, but without Namjoon you have no reason to be involved in this world. But you also have nowhere else to go. 

Then there’s Jungkook, who is a longstanding member of the very gang who is probably responsible for Namjoon’s death. It’s not like they would welcome you into their fray even with him gone. Everyone knows you’re his sister. You love Jungkook and you want to be with him more than anything, but you don’t know a way around all the obstacles still in your path. 

Jungkook gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes silently questioning if you’re alright. You affirm him with a nod.

He leaves soon after because you still have so much to sort out. Although, not before putting his number back into your phone and kissing you goodbye. He tells you he’ll see you at the university and you can talk more then. 

When you return downstairs, Namjoon is covered by a white cloth. You, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit in the kitchen and discuss burial plans. Yoongi has a family friend who runs a funeral home. You finish deciding on the details and a quiet tension fills the room as you all realize what you need to discuss next. 

“So, how do we go about finding out who did this?” Hoseok starts the daunting conversation.

“It was obviously the fucking Wolves,” Yoongi snarls.

“Yeah, but not all of them,” you say. “The gang as a whole would never do something so stupid and reckless.” 

“You think it was some rogue member?” Seokjin asks.

“That or a small faction who is itching to start a war,” you respond. 

“Well they got what they wanted,” Yoongi says as he crosses his arms. “I’m going to Bangchan tomorrow to challenge them to a brawl. On the condition that if they give up the coward who did this, no one else gets hurt.” 

“You think it will work?” Hoseok questions.

“Wait, you want more people, our people, to possibly get hurt?” You don’t see the logic in it. The Dragons are already down and out without your brother. A massive brawl between the two gangs will only make things worse. 

“Someone has to be punished, Y/N,” Yoongi answers. “I’ll let them decide if it’s one or all of them.” 

You know that Yoongi’s decision is final. He was Namjoon’s right hand man and is most likely to take over as leader. But that doesn’t mean you won’t do whatever it takes to stop it from happening. 

Jungkook finds you after your classes end for the day. You run straight into his arms when you see him, wrapping yourself around his neck and inhaling his familiar scent. His hands sneak below your shirt and rub soothing circles on your waist and back. He kisses you before you go somewhere private to talk.

Sitting down outside the large double doors of the university, you reach across the wooden table to take his hands. It feels odd, but soothing being here together again after months of not crossing paths. When you glance around, you see the same path you took as you were skipping ahead of him after taking an exam. In the opposite direction, there’s a small cove where Jungkook fingered you and kissed you like he needed it more than oxygen. That was shortly before the incident with your brother. The prettier memories of your relationship are all around you.

Inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands before telling him everything you know.

“There’s going to be a fight in three days unless the Wolves give up the person or people responsible for Namjoon’s death. If they do, the brawl is off,” you explain.

Jungkook is playing with your fingers as he listens to you.

“That won’t work,” Jungkook states. “We would never give up one of our own even if he did do something as cowardly as murdering someone in cold blood.”

“I know,” you agree. “That’s why we have to figure out who did this before then and give them up ourselves.”

“It won’t be easy, pretty,” Jungkook admits. He lets go and leans back before sighing and running his fingers through his hair. “Everyone knows about you and I. They won’t let anything slip around me or my friends.” You chew on your bottom lip as you contemplate your options. Jungkook watches you before taking a deep breath. “If the brawl goes down… you know I’ll have to be there, right, pretty?”

You nod with a far away look in your eyes. 

“I know. That’s why it has to work. I can’t lose you, too,” you whisper without looking at him.

Jungkook kisses the back of your hands, tilting his head to bring your attention to him. His pretty doe eyes are hesitant, not wanting to leave you like this, but you assure him you’re fine before standing. 

He still drops you off at the same spot to avoid any unnecessary tension if he’s spotted near the house. You kiss him goodbye through the driver’s side window before venturing home.

Upon returning home, you notice the classical music playing from the stereo before anything else. You recognize the song and already know who’ll be there before entering the room. Seokjin sits with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. Everyone else must either be out or in their rooms. You sit next to him and gesture for the bottle. He passes it unceremoniously over to you.

“We swore Yoongi in tonight,” Seokjin tells you. 

“He’ll do good,” you reply. You look at the bottle and swirl the liquid around inside. “He’s always been prudent.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin sighs. 

You put the bottle down and reach for Seokjin’s arm instead. Squeezing it, he looks at you with glassy eyes.

“I miss him already, too,” you breathe.

Seokjin flashes you a hollow smile.

“There was still so much we wanted to do together,” he muses. Seokjin looks down at his hand, stretching his fingers out and flexing it. “He just bought us matching rings. We were gonna wear them on different fingers so no one caught on.”

“Bought? My brother?” 

Seokjin genuinely smiles at that.

“Can you believe it? He said he didn’t want something like that to be stolen. That I deserve to be paid for,” Seokjin explains.

You relax against the chair.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” you say. 

“I know you two weren’t on good terms at the time, but it doesn’t change how deeply he loved you,” Seokjin continues. 

“I know,” you reply.

“He didn’t…” Seokjin sighs, mulling over his next words carefully. “He was pissed about you sleeping with a Wolf, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t do what he did out of cruelty. He was our leader. If he looked the other way and people found out, they would've started to doubt his ability to do whatever necessary for the gang.” Seokjin sits forward to meet your eyes. “I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I wanted you to know. He only ever wanted two things for you, Y/N. To be happy and to be safe.”

“Jungkook does both of those things for me,” you say. 

“Good,” Seokjin smiles. 

You squeeze his arm one last time before leaving him alone with the whiskey bottle. 

Time soldiers on with each tick of the clock, every second bringing you closer to the inevitable truth that this brawl is going to happen. Jungkook tells you he’s doing his best, but the truth is harder to scrounge for than originally anticipated. 

The truth comes too late. 

The night of the brawl, you do what you swore you never would and drive Namjoon’s motorcycle down the unfamiliar streets to the Wolf’s Den. You’re wearing his biker jacket, too. The Dragons had it cleaned and the patches re-embroidered before gifting it to you.

Jungkook meets you at the back of the house and sneaks you into his room in the basement. Despite your terror about tonight, finally seeing his room brings a smile to your face.

“I like it,” you say as you run your fingers down the leather jacket on his chair.

Jungkook takes a seat on the bed while your eyes comb over the pieces of him scattered around the room. A picture of him and his parents, a drawing of an adorable white dog who looks like a cloud, his boxing gloves. It’s comforting being so entirely surrounded by him.

Pulling you by the waist, Jungkook brings you to stand between his legs. His hands caress you from your thighs to your stomach before he leans in and kisses your navel, then rests his forehead against you. You comb your fingers through his hair, admiring the pretty black strands. He hums peacefully at the feeling. Being with him like this makes it easy to forget reality looming on the other side of the door, lying in wait for you to return to it. 

“You’ll stay back as much as possible, right? Avoid the big guys?” You ask him.

Jungkook sighs, leaning back on his hands and tracing over your features with his eyes. 

“Pretty, you know I can’t do that,” he responds. 

Nodding with your lip between your teeth, you avoid his eyes. Anger and fear mix together in your stomach and make you want to be sick. Your brother is dead and now the man you love is on the precipice of the same fate. You already lost him once and you refuse to do it again.

“So, you just…” your sentence dies in your throat. There aren’t enough words to explain the heaviness you feel.

Jungkook stands and brings you to his chest. You hit him to make him let you go, but your body is already betraying you and melting into his embrace. You bury your face into his shirt, inhaling his scent and letting it envelope you in familiarity. 

“Please, don’t go,” you beg him. “I love you, Jungkook. I can’t –,” you cut yourself off before your emotions can drown you. “Just… please.”

Jungkook’s fingers use your chin to bring your lips to his. It’s a quick kiss, barely a peck before he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I love you more than I can even comprehend, but this is my family we’re talking about. I have a responsibility to them, too,” he tells you. 

You don’t fight him on it anymore. There’s no strength left within you to do so. Your mental fortitude is cracking and crumbling into ash all around you. Most of all, you don’t want what could possibly be your last moments together to happen in anger. 

Harsh banging forces you apart as someone tells Jungkook it’s time to go. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you ardently. It feels like goodbye and tastes like grief. You use his lips as an altar and pray to the angels and the saints and maybe even the demons to keep him safe and bring him home to you unscathed. You promise them you’ll be joining them soon if they don’t.

Jungkook sneaks you back out as the Wolves gather in the road on their idling motorcycles. He leaves you with a final kiss to your lips and forehead, where he whispers how much he loves you one more time.

You watch helplessly as your eyes trace his figure moving further and further away from you. He throws an arm around who you can only assume is Taehyung as Jimin follows closely behind. You don’t look away until you’re unable to follow him any longer. His bike carrying him away from you along with the rest of his gang.

A twig snaps, or maybe fate pulls at your shoulder, and you look up just as a few stragglers are heading to leave. You recognize the familiar face as though you last saw him yesterday, and not over a decade ago. The blood in your veins courses through you at sub-zero temperatures and freezes around your organs. 

Realization slams into you with the force of a brick wall. You need to tell the others that you know who took Namjoon from you.

Running across the yard as fast as your legs can carry you, your hands shake as you work to secure your helmet. Your leg swings over the leather seat and you throttle the engine. The bike roars to life and you don’t waste a second before taking off down the street.

One motorcycle can get somewhere a lot faster than twenty five can, but they already have a decent head start. 

Your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears as the buildings fly by in streaks of blurry light. It rained earlier and the water from the road is whipping up at your legs. All of your senses feel overloaded by the anxiety taking root within you.

You have no clue what you’re going to do when reach the gangs, and if the fight has already started, it will be too dangerous to intervene. 

Jungkook flashes across your mind, and you can already picture the expression of worry and concern he’ll have when you arrive. He’s going to be so angry with you for putting yourself in harm’s way, and Yoongi, Seokjin, and Hoseok will be the same. You can’t concern yourself with their potential anger right now. All that matters is getting to them.

The brawl is taking place at the old salt mill which still stands on the edge of the city. It’s a massive open air factory built on acres of farmland. The last time you saw it, the steel walls were beginning to tear and the foundation cracking.

Despite its dilapidation, it’s the perfect location for fifty or so men to beat and kill each other without anyone noticing.

The monumental building comes into view in the distance and as you approach you see all the motorcycles lined up along the road. 

Parking next to the familiar motorcycles belonging to the Dragons, you grant yourself the reprieve of a single deep breath before diving headfirst into the danger ahead.

The engine has barely begun to cool when you throw your helmet off. Your feet propel you forward across the wet pavement towards the factory. Your shoes meet puddles as you run and the water splashes against your bare legs.

Looking down at your attire, you almost scoff. Namjoon would be so mad at you for not looking the part. You’re about to run into a room of fifty armed men wearing a pleated skirt and frilly pink blouse. At least Namjoon’s jacket still resting on your shoulders makes you look a little bit tougher.

You can just make out the figures amongst the processing equipment and huge piles of salt left behind by the manufacturers. The mountains of salt surround the two gangs and make it look as though they’re in the center of an arena. As you move forward, you see Yoongi and Bangchan standing in the space between the two gangs. 

They’re probably discussing the “rules” and deciding which weapons will be allowed. It’s a pointless conversation to make themselves feel better. You’re certain that every man in there brought a gun to this knife fight. 

“Wait!” You shout when you’re in earshot, traversing over rusted machinery and scattered salt. You speak again once you’re inside. “Stop!”

Yoongi is looking at you incredulously, his eyes burning with a protective fury. Seokjin and Hoseok mirror his expression from where they stand on the far right and left of the Dragons. Your eyes catch motion in your peripheral vision, and you see Jungkook already moving through the crowd to get to you. 

Yoongi grabs your arm and tugs you back into the crowd of Dragons, standing so that his body is shielding you from the Wolves across the room. He opens his mouth to no doubt scold you and demand an explanation, but he doesn’t get the chance. A cacophony of noises and voices stops him.

“Hey –”

“Get off me.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Dude, what the hell.”

“Heesung –”

Your eyes widen in horror as you take in the scene over Yoongi’s shoulder. He sees your expression and turns to follow your gaze.

The Wolves have all moved back into a U shape which highlights two figures standing to the left, next to a massive pile of salt. The flood lights on the ceiling bounce off the bright white and bathe the two of them in an unnatural light.

Jungkook jerks his right arm back to get the man holding him across the shoulders to let go. He grunts and tries to elbow him in the stomach, but stops short when he feels something cool and sharp press against his jugular.

There’s a silver glint from where the light catches on the blade pushing against Jungkook’s throat. Your eyes snap shut involuntarily as a paralyzing fear overtakes your nervous system.

“Y/N…” The man sing-songs in a tone so eerie it creeps up your spine like weeds. 

You didn’t think this through. Didn’t account for what Heesung would do when he’s backed into a corner.

“Heesung, please let him go,” you beg cautiously, not wanting to make a single miscalculation. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

A wave of confusion crosses over Jungkook’s face at your familiarity with his fellow Wolf.

Heesung laughs at your plea and the knife presses harder against Jungkook’s skin. A single bead of blood trails down his throat.

Jungkook knows he’s stronger than Heesung, that he can overpower him with ease, but he can’t bring himself to fight when he sees you across the room. You’re shaking, your eyes so sorrowful it breaks his heart, and your lip trembles where it’s clenched between your teeth. He has something to live for now, someone to come home to, and he can’t risk Heesung’s knife going anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Doesn’t he?” Heesung retorts. “He is your lover, yes? So I should kill him, too, just like I killed Namjoon and leave you with no one so you’ll be just like me.”

His confession permeates through the air, stunning both gangs into a weighted silence. You feel Yoongi go stiff by your side. 

“No,” you whimper. “You can just take me instead. That would be enough, right? Enough revenge? Enough penance for what we did to you?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook snaps at you, but Heesung shushes him.

Heesung studies you for a moment before shaking his head, the knife pressing down again and making Jungkook gasp for air.

“No, Y/N. Nothing will ever be enough,” Heesung snarls.

Time seems to slow once the words leave him, because before anyone in the room can even take their next breath, a gunshot rings out. 

“No!”

Your scream is nearly simultaneous with the gunshot itself, following it by only a millisecond.

Your view of Jungkook and Heesung gets forcefully taken from you in an instant. The only thing you see is blood splattering and dispersing into the air where their heads were a moment ago. The ricochet and a body falling to the floor sends salt up into the air and covers the entire scene in a white cloud. 

There are no words for the emotions that overtake you in the moment before the blood and salt settle. It feels like fear at first, but the word is too small in comparison. Panic, terror, dread, none of them are heavy enough. Grief moves in like fog across the morning air. You wait with bated breath to see if it will break and the sun will peak through the clouds.

Someone coughs, and then they stumble out from the cloud of salt with ragged breaths and wide eyes. He’s covered in blood splatter, the thick liquid matting down his hair and soiling his shirt, but it’s clear none of it is his own.

“Jungkook!”

Your feet can’t bring you to him fast enough. When they do, you throw your arms around his neck as your entire body shakes. Jungkook is still delirious, the gunshot throwing off his equilibrium. But then he feels your warmth against him, grounding him, and his arms latch around your waist.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” he assures you. His hand sinks into your hair as he pulls you closer, causing your back to arch into him and your heels to lift from the floor. He kisses across your temple, cheek, and hairline.

Your very soul releases a sigh of relief as you sink deeper into his embrace.

The sound of a pistol chamber clicking back into place catches your attention. As the salt slowly falls to the ground like snow, you turn your head to see Seokjin standing behind it. He’s cleaning the gun with a rag as he looks at the body before him in disgust.

“Seokjin,” you say to grab his attention.

He looks up at you with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. If you didn’t know the features of his face you wouldn’t be able to notice it. It’s solemn and peaceful, like he’s finally laying something to rest.

“Didn’t mean to ruin the fun, but that asshole was really pissing me off,” he states. “Can we call this an eye for an eye and be done, Bangchan? I’m not sure you want someone willing to kill one of his own in your ranks anyway.”

Bangchan looks so utterly confused at the whole display that he has to shake his head before gathering his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “We’re done here.”

His words give way for the Wolves to mosey out of the factory, their whispers of confusion following them out to the road. Yoongi tells the Dragons to get home, too, before making his way over to where you’re still clinging to Jungkook.

“You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

Jungkook squeezes your waist, nods and tells you it’s alright, before letting you go and joining Taehyung and Jimin near the exit. You watch Jimin grasp his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. Taehyung messes with his hair affectionately. 

You ride home on Namjoon’s motorcycle while his friends lead the way. No one speaks until you’re sitting in Yoongi’s room together, passing a bottle of whiskey around. You only begin to talk after taking a slow, poignant sip of the liquor.

“You guys already know Namjoon and I ran away from home because our parents were physically and verbally abusive. But we swore never to tell anyone about what happened the day we left. Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud even if he wanted to,” you begin before taking another burning sip of alcohol. “We left just after midnight and snuck out of the house down the fire escape. Our neighbor, Mrs. Lee, spotted us as we were climbing down. She realized what we were doing right away, so she grabbed me so we couldn’t run. I fought against her so hard, but she just wouldn’t let go.” You place your hands between your knees to stop them from shaking. “Namjoon shot her so we could get away. He didn’t have a choice. Our parents would’ve killed us that very night if he hadn’t.” You exhale somberly. “We only realized as we were running down the street that her son was outside and saw the whole thing. We grew up with Heesung. He was our friend. It… it was never meant to happen that way.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Hoseok grabs your hand and it makes you smile just a hair. 

With Heesung’s death comes relief, and your hunger for vengeance is satiated, but the cruelty of fate still nips at your subconscious.

Heesung and Namjoon are two sides of a tragic coin. Neither one deserving of the cards they were dealt, and bound by the lingering strings of a tragedy which became their demise. The domino effect of a lifetime worth of decisions now ends with you, the last one standing.

“You and Namjoon both endured far more than you deserve,” Yoongi says. “But that’s all behind you now, and that Wolf of yours seems to make you pretty happy.”

You laugh and it feels real for the first time in a while. 

“I think we can make an exception to the rules, don’t you?” Seokjin asks his new leader.

“Yes, I believe so,” Yoongi agrees. 

Yoongi tells you Jungkook can visit as long as you’re with him the entire time, and he doesn’t leave your room. He allows it because you’re his best friends’ little sister and he loves you like his own. You’ve been through so much in your life already, and he isn’t going to keep a source of happiness from you. You’re so thankful that you force him into a tight embrace, which he pretends to begrudgingly accept, when he’s actually more than happy to return the affection. 

Jungkook comes over, with permission this time, the very next day. You lie between his legs on your bed while he shows you how to drift in Mario Kart. You’re downright terrible at it, and he has to place his fingers over yours to prevent a loss on his account. When you inevitably do lose, and his overall ranking drops, his tongue presses to his cheek as he stares you down. 

The next thing you know, he’s taking the Switch from you and gently setting it down on the nightstand before turning his attention back to you. He moves his hands down your body from your hips until he reaches your inner thighs and tugs your legs apart. His fingers are quick to find their way to your folds, touching you over your underwear. Your head falls to his shoulder as you moan softly.

“I should piss you off more often,” you muse. 

His fingers are just running up and down your slit over the lace of your panties and it’s both not enough and too much simultaneously. He pushes down, causing the fabric to rub against your clit and you gasp, your hand gripping his arm to keep yourself steady.

“I wouldn’t try it,” he warns. His lips are right against your ear and the deepness of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Then he’s kissing your neck and your mind becomes too hazy to reply.

Jungkook moves your underwear to the side as he’s sucking on your neck and pushes into your cunt without warning. Your other hand curls around his head and grabs onto his hair. It’s pathetic how wet you already are, but the squelching sound your pussy makes as his fingers pump in and out is worth the embarrassment. 

You’re restless, needing more of him than he’s currently providing you. 

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him between your moans and sharp intakes of air. Jungkook is more than willing to oblige your request. 

Which is how you end up on top of him, his cock meeting your cervix repeatedly as you alternate between bouncing up and down and grinding against his hips. His hands are everywhere at first, tracing your outline and massaging over any skin within his reach. But then his right arm, which is so beautifully decorated in tattoos, traverses the familiar path of your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple, before wrapping around your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as your head tips back. The position gives you such a beautiful view of him and his tattoos. You remind yourself to ask him about them soon. A pretty tiger lily is staring you in the face, but then Jungkook squeezes your throat and it becomes a blur of orange and black.

“Always so good for me,” he whispers while sitting up. His lips find yours, his arm securing you to him so you can bounce on him easier. His hand is still on your throat, softly squeezing the sides of it to pleasure you without harm. “My pretty baby,” he says once he moves to sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, just above his own fingers. "Always take my cock so fucking well."

He makes you come twice, because he just loves you that much, before fucking his cum into you as he thrusts his swollen cock into your cunt. 

Once your pussy is battered and filled to the brim with his cum, you fall over onto his chest. You can feel him softening inside you, but don’t want to lose the feeling of him just yet.

Jungkook kisses you slowly, licking across your bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. You lazily make out as your hands traverse his naked chest. His fingertips create goosebumps where they skim along your spine. You could stay like this forever without a single complaint.

“I love you,” he whispers on your lips. He says it so quietly, as if he’s trying to hide the proclamation from the rest of the world and keep it just for you.

You’re smiling when you kiss him again.

“I love you,” you parrot. 

After he finally does pull out, you lie naked together under the covers as Jungkook plays with your hair, twirling it and attempting a makeshift braid while you draw shapes on his skin with your fingers. It’s quiet and peaceful inside your mind for the first time in a long time. Jungkook kisses your forehead and you look over at him with a smile. 

Jungkook licks his lips and pulls you up with him until your backs are against the headboard. He finally asks you to enlighten him about why he had a blade to his neck the night prior. You relay the story to him as you did with your brother’s friends. 

Jungkook looks rightfully shocked, but he processes his own emotions quickly to offer you comfort instead.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, pretty,” he says. “If you ever wanna talk about it some more, you know I’m always here, right?”

“I know,” you affirm. “I’m here for you, too.”

“God, we’re both fucked up,” Jungkook chuckles. 

You nod in agreement. 

“It doesn’t have to stay that way, you know,” you propose. “We graduate next year and with Joonie gone there isn’t anything left for me here. I’ll stay until I can afford a place of my own, but then I’m putting this life behind me.” You readjust so you’re looking at Jungkook directly. “And I want you to join me. You’re so fucking smart, Jungkook, and anywhere would be lucky to have you.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head as he thinks over your words.

“I don’t know what I want right now, pretty, but I do know that I wanna be wherever you are,” he confesses. You’re smiling at him as though he hung the stars in the sky himself. “Is that enough for now?”

Your eyes flit over all the details of him. His wavy black hair, big chocolate brown eyes, and the piercings decorating his pretty lips and eyebrow. He looks so different from the boy you met at school and yet everything is so irrevocably him. You smile, bending down so your noses touch. 

“It’s more than enough,” you tell him.

huffing, you took the paper back and tried your best to ignore him, as if that would make him go away.

“okay, sorry” he mumbled, scratching the tip of his pen against a plain piece of paper, his eyes avoiding yours. “i just. i would’ve never taken it. ever. and take that from someone who’s good at every subject.”

and that made you finally snap. “okay, you’re so good at everything! congrats on that, dimwit!” you spat at him, rolling your eyes as you felt your blood boil. “you think i’d actually take this class on my own accord?! think again.”

draco fell silent at that. you were right, you were a pureblood after all. and your family would go crazy if they found out about you taking this class. so that only left him one option - his eyes lit up. “you like a mudblood” he said with disgust, making a face that you were so familiar with already.

and you wanted to lie to him and tell him it’s not true, but your cheeks reddened and you tried to hide it with your hair, but it was no use. draco knew you like the back of his hand. “oh, merlin!” he stood up from the chair, mouth open wide, but instinctively curling into a scowl when madam pince shushed him.

“which one is it? is it riddle, please say no” “no, draco… why would i even take muggle studies for him? he despises muggle-borns. he doesn’t even like his own grandmother since she’s the reason he’s a halfblood.”

draco made a realisation sound, but his eyebrows furrowed. “you know an awful lot about this guy.”

“i only spend like half of my time with you lot. and mind you, the other half i’m sleeping.”

your words didn’t do anything to him, though. only made him fall deeper into thoughts. why was he comfortable enough with you so that he could be himself, yet you weren’t?

you looked up at him curiously, noticing his nails tugging at the thin skin on his knuckles, and you couldn’t help but place your hand over his, that causing draco to look up at you as well. “what?”

he was visibly more relaxed under your touch, but you could tell that he didn’t expect it. you were not too touchy, especially with him. “do you wanna go back to the common room? you look tired.”

but he shook his head, dragging his chair even closer to yours. “no. no, i’m just fine” he whispered whilst trying his best not to yawn.

you smiled to yourself. he was a cutie when he wanted to be. or when he wasn’t trying so hard to make other people feel bad. “i’ll go with you. i’m done here anyway. i think i’ll try to get help from an actual muggle-born.”

he didn’t really let it show, but he was grateful. either you did it because you were tired too, or for him, he was more than content when you took his hand and dragged him behind you back to the common room.

🤍

yet when you arrived to the common room, with draco basically glued to your side, you almost prayed that it would be quiet. it was anything but that.

loud chatter could be heard all the way down the hallway, and as you whispered the password, you could even distinguish the voices.

“oh, look who’s here!” lorenzo basically threw himself at you two, kissing your cheek and squeezing draco closer to him. yet, he only let go of you, keeping the younger boy wrapped around his body.

you took the opportunity and plopped down on the sofa next to a visibly tired theo. he shot you a lazy smile which you returned, your hands resting on the back of the sofa. “i’m fucking tired.”

“poor baby. you stayed late studying again?” blaise cooed at you and your brows shot up hearing his voice, not even aware of his presence until then.

you whined quietly, your eyes closing for a mere moment. “yeah. i think i might need hermione’s help though. i don’t think i’ll be able to do it on my own anytime soon.”

“granger’s help?” theo seemed more awake now, and your words made even tom put his book away. “what for? i’m sure it’s nothing draco couldn’t help you with.”

draco hummed softly from beside you, head resting against enzo’s chest as he looked just about three seconds away from falling asleep. “she’s taking muggle studies.”

you gave him a dirty look that you’re not sure he even caught, judging by his eyes being more than 80% closed by then.

though, around you, strings of questions followed. “oh, dolcezza, what for?” theo was the first one to ask, a gentle smile on his face.

to be fair, you weren’t sure why. you just found yourself wanting to know more about muggle-borns. you were concerned about their abilities. of course, other reasons ensued.

you sighed. “i’m just really curious. how can a muggle do magic? how can some of them be even better at it than us?” you paused, opening your eyes to look at them. “do you ever think about that?”

“i always thought that they’re not really muggle-borns. just adopted by clueless muggles” mattheo shrugged, taking a drag from his joint.

tom looked at his brother with something that you could only call disdain, before he looked at you, your eyes locking. “distant ancestors is my humble guess” his tone had a bite to it, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

maintaining eye contact, you felt as if he was eating you alive with just his eyes, gaze so intense that it made your knees give out. “that’s what the books say” you agreed, slightly startled when theo’s head dropped on your lap, your fingers almost instinctively going to play with his soft curls, the boy humming with appreciation.

you smiled down at him. “what do you say, teddy?”

“whatever you wanna do is fine by me, amorina” he replied a bit too quickly, his long, slender fingers rubbing at your knee.

that made you snicker, and you relax against the sofa, closing your eyes again. you didn’t hear much after that as you drifted off. but you surely remembered someone’s arms wrapping around you and carrying you to your prefect dorm.

🤍

you woke up with a headache the next day, and your owl delivered a letter - oh no. you wanted to postpone opening it, but you had no chance as it opened on its own, your mother’s high pitched, obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

“y/n rosier! how dare you embarrass us this way??! taking muggle studies?! might as well put a knife in my heart. i don’t care about extra points, as long as you’re risking all of our lives - if the dark lord is made aware of this nonsense, he’ll have our throats! if you put another toe out of line, we’ll bring you STRAIGHT HOME!”

sighing, you ripped the parchment into pieces and threw your bag over your shoulder. you knew it was coming, you just didn’t know who told them.

walking down the stairs, you were met with a pair of curious eyes - they probably heard it all. how could they not?

“what was that about?” a confused blaise came to stand beside you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he walked with you out of the common room.

“my mother” you looked straight ahead as you walked, an unreadable expression on your face. “I have to drop muggle studies or the dark lord will have our throats.”

blaise chuckled lowly and squeezed you closer to his side, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “didn’t you expect that? i mean, we’re friends with his sons, of course they’d tell him.”

“you think so? i thought matt hated him” you said confusedly. mattheo did hate him, but his evil twin was a spitting image of his father.

your mouth opened in realisation. that bastard.

“listen… i love tom, but i don’t always trust him” he explained quietly, his face inching closer to yours as if he was afraid tom would actually hear him. “he’s a lot smarter than i think possible. and we all know that he’s always trying to please his father.”

that left you deep in thought. you had known tom for years, but you never thought he’d turn you in.

arriving to your first class of the day, potions, blaise left your side and went to sit at the table in front of you. funnily enough? tom was sitting just behind you.

“you’ll be paired up today as this is quite a difficult task and i’m not sure all of you can manage” professor slughorn eyed adrian pucey and you giggled quietly, blaise turning to you to shoot you a devilish grin.

dismissing you both with a hand waving in the air, slughorn continued. “alright, if miss rosier and mister zabini will allow me, i’ll start reading” he eyed you rather playfully and you gave a curt nod.

“mister zabini and mister pucey,” you could see blaise’s fall even from the side, as he gathered his things and went to sit with adrian, but not before shaking his head at you. “mister weasley and mister malfoy,” and your head snapped, your eyes widening when you finally heard your name, “mister riddle and miss rosier.”

you froze on the spot, unable to move as you heard shuffling from behind you, and soon after, tom was neatly placing his cauldrons on your table. “morning” his voice was soft but firm.

“morning” unlike your own, which was rather shaky. “did you hear what kind of potion we have to make? i-i wasn’t paying attention.”

he could see the blush creeping up your neck, his eyes observing every little detail - as always. “I didn’t tell father about you.”

you choked on air, tom having to pat you on the back, a foreign glint in his eyes. and once you finally relaxed, your throat rough, you asked. “how do you know that?”

“i read blaise’s mind” he shrugged as if it was nothing.

mouth agape, you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. and when you didn’t speak, he continued. “see weasley and malfoy there” he pointed to them and you nodded. “he’s thinking about screwing him. malfoy.”

“draco?!” you almost yelled and half of the class turned to look at you, which earned you a disappointing head shake from tom.

“yes, draco” he whispered nonchalantly, and his face fell. “they’re screwing more than any of us. they even do it in broom closets and if you catch draco drinking more than two butterbeers, he’ll tell you all about it.”

you nodded once, twice… and your brows furrowed. “any of you? who are you screwing?”

“our group. plus the golden trio, but i’m not big on that. it’s casual, not to them apparently” he nodded toward ron and draco again, and you sighed, still very much confused.

“why… why am i not a part of that?”

tom looked down and you could swear it was the first time he actually hesitated. “draco started all of this. i’m not… i’m not sure why.”

“bullshit” you spat, turning your face away from him. it actually made you feel bad. why did they not include you?

just as tom was about to speak again, probably come up with some lame excuse, you raised your hand, feigning stomach ache. “may i please be excused, professor? i don’t feel so good.”

and obviously, crazy scared about these things, slughorn let you go, and you felt tom’s burning gaze on your back as you left.

you decided that you didn’t want to see any of them that day. maybe the next day too. and the days after that.

you felt deeply hurt. not just because of the physical things you were missing on, but because they were your friends, and you were the only one being excluded from their activities.

sitting alone on the great hall, your mind started to wander. it wandered to all those times theo would disappear right before dinner and come back disheveled, when hermione would leave your study sessions early, when enzo and mattheo would feign being sick whilst the rest of you went to hogsmeade.

and your conclusion? none of them found you attractive. not a single person. you had had problems with the way you looked, as one does, but they were never this serious.

never to the point that you could physically feel the hole in your heart.

putting an end to your thoughts, the bell rang and students started making their way to the great hall. it was already lunch time.

you contemplated leaving, as you could already hear some of your friends nearby, but instead, you sat a few seats down from your usual spot, adrian pucey claiming the sit next to you.

“i must say i didn’t expect this, but i’m not mad” he chuckled as he started cutting into his meat, eyeing you curiously.

you tried to put on a smile, as insincere as it was due to your state. “i could use a change of scenery… what about your match against gryffindor on saturday? tell me about that.”

his eyes lit up instantly, and you thanked merlin for it. he would blabber and never shut up about it, so he couldn’t ask any more questions about your unusual behaviour. “so, we’re gonna beat those dimwits up. i don’t care what it takes-”

“yeah, shut up, pucey” you were startled and pulled out of your daydreaming by mattheo’s rough voice. looking up at him, you could see his eyes turning red with anger, and he took your hand in his.

he was so gentle even though he looked about ready to jump adrian. you stood up and held him close to you. without another word, he shot adrian a dirty look and led you out of the great hall and back to the slytherin common room.

the walk there was quiet, yet you could feel how tense he was. his hand on yours, even if gentle, was stiff. his shoulders were tense and it almost looked like he refused to blink.

you didn’t dare speak a word to him as he led you inside, the common room much too crowded at this time - dinner time, more specifically.

but the people there were not just random people.

“what is this?” you asked meekly, feeling too exposed as all of their eyes were on you.

they all looked at you with different kinds of expressions. draco looked angry, whilst ron, leaning back against his chest, was more excited than ever. blaise had a stern look on his face, and theo, enzo, tom, hermione and harry just looked thrilled to be there.

when none of them answered, mattheo spoke up. “my brother here is an idiot.”

“say something new” draco scoffed and blaise elbowed him in the ribs, the blond looking down as mattheo glared at him.

he turned back to you, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles as he looked down at you. “sweetheart, we didn’t include you because…” he sighed and you gulped, not feeling ready for the refusal. “because we know that you’re a virgin.”

you gasped, trying to push him away with your hands, but he tugged you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your smaller frame. “this is bullshit, i don’t care-!”

“okay, okay!” theo interrupted you and all of you looked at him, your brows rising. “we thought that even if you agreed to it… we didn’t- fuck! we couldn’t accept that, when you had to pick one of us to be your first, the others would just have to- live with it.”

you froze for what felt like the hundredth time today - they didn’t find you unattractive. they wanted you more than you could begin to think of.