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iydiamartinx · 2 days ago

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THIS MEANS WAR VI

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2.7k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I'm finally home!! For some reason tumblr was blocked on my laptop there, which was why I wasn't that active but I hope you all enjoyed the other scheduled posts. I wanted to get this one out to y'all as soon as I could, so I hope my jet lagged brain managed to proof read it fine...if not oops. Also, I think the last chapter of this was scheduled so people were missed on the taglist, i should've fixed that for this chapter but let me know if you were missed! I'm sorry about that! Also did anyone catch that supernatural reference?

MILO'S APARTMENT

You were fucking panicking.

The second you saw that text on your phone, you were out the door and en route to Milo and Anthony’s apartment like it was a goddamn emergency—and to you, it was. You didn’t even say hello. Just beelined straight for their wine rack and uncorked a bottle like your life depended on it.

Halfway through chugging it, Milo snatched it from your grip.

“Talk or no more wine,” he said flatly. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You groaned, dragging both hands down your face before collapsing onto the couch. “I fucked up.”

“Okay, well, you better start talking, because I swear to God—was it the match? You never told me how it went. Was he an asshole?”

“No,” you said, sitting up. “No. Dick was great.”

“Okay…” Milo said slowly.

“And so is Jason.”

He blinked. “Who the fuck is Jason?”

You explained. Everything. From the amazing date with Dick to the equally amazing time with Jason—each moment fresh in your mind and impossible to ignore—to the absolute mess you’d found yourself tangled in now.

“And now they both want to go out with me again,” you finished, looking like you might actually pass out from sheer stress. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Milo stared at you.

“I fail to see the problem here.”

You gawked at him. “I can’t date two guys at the same time!”

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded. “You’re hot. You’re single. And you’re exploring your romantic portfolio.”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “I feel bad.”

Milo narrowed his eyes at you like you’d just confessed to murdering someone’s puppy. “You feel bad?”

“Yes!” you groaned, collapsing against the couch cushions like the weight of your sins had finally taken you down. “I went out with Jason. After my date with Dick. Who, by the way, I also really like. And now I’m just… spiralling.”

Anthony, who’d been eavesdropping, finally emerged from the kitchen, casually sipping from his own glass of wine like this was better than anything Netflix could offer. He leaned against the doorway, perfectly at ease.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, one brow raised. “You went on a date with one hot guy, then met another hot guy who you also went on a date with, and now both of them want more?”

You glared at him, deadpan. “Yes.”

He took another sip. “Girl, if that’s not the universe begging you to experiment, I don’t know what is.”

Milo jabbed a finger in your direction. “Exactly! You’re not cheating. You’re single. You’re exploring. Gathering data.”

“I’m not running a clinical trial,” you snapped, though a laugh escaped despite yourself.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Anthony muttered into his wine. “You’re treating this like a double-blind study with ethical guidelines.”

You covered your face with both hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“No,” Milo corrected, setting down his glass. “A nightmare is getting ghosted by someone who still watches all your stories and likes your dog pics. This? This is a champagne problem.”

You peeked at Milo through your fingers. “So… what do I do?”

“Date both,” he said without missing a beat.

“No.”

“Date. Both,” he repeated, completely undeterred. “No commitment. No promises. Just casual. See who actually fits into your life. Who listens. Who remembers your coffee order. Who quotes Austen and doesn’t flinch when you spiral into a lecture about neurotoxins.”

“Dick could keep up when I went full brainiac mode,” you murmured. “And Jason… Jason quoted Austen. Unprompted.”

Milo clutched his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “Be still my heart.”

“And they’re both so… different and amazing in their own ways,” you added, softer now, more to yourself than to them. “Dick is light. Safe. He makes me feel seen. And Jason is—”

“A walking red flag with a Shakespeare soul and hidden depth,” Anthony chimed in, deadpan.

You laughed despite yourself. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Milo gave you a pointed look. “Babe. You’re not choosing between a villain and a hero. You’re choosing between two men who see you. Who want to know you. If they’re both worth your time… then take the damn time to find out who you want and get to know them.”

You hesitated. “And if it blows up in my face?”

Milo didn’t blink. Just reached for the wine and refilled your glass. “Then we’ll be right here. With a playlist, ice cream, and a very detailed hit list.”

“Color-coded,” Anthony added with a sage nod. “Naturally.”

You exhaled, dragging a hand through your hair. “I hate how much sense you two make.”

“We’re gay. It’s our burden to carry,” Milo said solemnly, raising his glass. “To emotional clarity and romantic chaos.”

Anthony nodded, raising his own. “And may the best man win.”

You stared at them both like they’d sprouted wings or grown extra heads. “This is still ridiculous.”

“This,” Milo countered, pouring more wine into your glass, “is the golden age of options. You’re allowed to figure it out without pledging your undying love to the first man who makes you laugh.”

“I kissed Jason,” you muttered into your glass.

“And?” Anthony sipped. “Did you enjoy it?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Too much.”

“Exactly.” Milo held his glass up. “Right now, you just don’t know what you’re allowed to feel.”

You looked at them—these two chaotic bastards who somehow made emotional turmoil sound like a well-curated spa retreat—and let out a long breath.

“…I know I still feel bad.”

Milo rolled his eyes. “That’s because you’re a good person. You can feel bad and also let two hot guys take you out. Both things can be true.”

Anthony raised his glass. “To moral ambiguity and excellent taste in men.”

You clinked yours against theirs, muttering, “I’m going to hell.”

Milo grinned. “Then take both of them with you, babe.”

BATCAVE

Meanwhile, Jason was still riding the high from earlier. The night air was cool against his skin, the streets quiet beneath the hum of his bike. He was halfway to his apartment when the notification came through.

A case update.

He didn’t hesitate. One hard turn of the throttle, and he was veering off course, heading straight for the manor.

Inside the Batcave, the mood was noticeably different. Dick and Bruce were already suited up, arms crossed in near-identical stances, while Tim was anchored to the console, eyes scanning a rapid stream of data across multiple monitors.

“Took your time,” Dick said lightly, though the usual ease in his voice was dulled.

“I was busy,” Jason shot back, tugging off his gloves. “What’ve we got?”

Bruce turned toward the central screen, the glow casting shadows across his jaw. “We found a breakthrough.”

Jason’s easy mood evaporated.

Tim tapped a key, bringing up a profile. “To cut to the chase—we know who our ghost is.”

“Well, that’s great. Let’s track the son of a bitch down,” Jason said, his voice clipped with impatience as he stepped closer to the screen.

“It’s not that simple,” Tim replied, already typing something in. “There’s been no physical sightings in over four years. No residence, no digital footprint, no bank activity. Nothing directly traceable. We only got a name because of a flagged experiment—an old one that matches his signature. It was buried in an ethics report filed by his only known connection.”

Tim tapped another key.

“B/N L/N,” he said. “And the only person who might be able to help us find him—his younger sister.”

With a soft beep, the next slide loaded on screen.

A profile image appeared.

Jason froze. So did Dick.

“Dr. Y/N L/N,” Tim continued, unfazed. “Lecturer. Neuroscientist. Gotham University. She’s the one who blew the whistle on his unethical research, which caused the rift between them. Records show he’s made multiple attempts to contact her over the years. If he’s on the run from Joker… she might be the only person he trusts enough to go to. Or the only one who knows how he thinks.”

“She’s one of the youngest in her field,” he added, “with two PHDs—”

“Three,” Jason and Dick said at the same time before pausing.

Both men turned slowly, brows raised, staring at each other across the space between.

“How did you know that?” Dick asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Jason’s gaze snapped to him. “How did you know that?”

Tim looked between them, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Okay… do I even want to know what’s happening here?”

Bruce didn’t so much as blink. “Where can we find her?”

Tim cleared his throat, grateful for the shift back to business. “She’s scheduled to appear at the Gotham Futures Gala this weekend. It’s a high-profile event at the Fairmont. She’s a guest speaker. The event’s raising funds for youth science education and mentorship programs—STEM access, early outreach, that kind of thing.”

Bruce nodded, calculating. “Alright. I can go and see if I can—”

“No!” The word rang out in unison. Both Jason and Dick spoke at once, their voices overlapping in sudden urgency.

Bruce’s gaze flicked between them, unimpressed. “No?”

“I’ll go,” Dick said, his voice smooth and easy—too easy. The kind of voice he usually used to charm the high society. “You’re stretched thin with the Joker situation. Let me take this one.”

“Or I can go.” Jason stated.

“You don’t even like gala’s.” Dick scoffed.

“And you do?” Jason raised a brow. “You spend half the night dodging donors and sneaking champagne behind the curtains.”

“At least I clean up well.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You need to get back to Blüdhaven.”

“I’m on leave.” Dick snipped back.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already nursing a headache.

“Enough,” he said, tone edged with steel. “I don’t care which one of you goes. Just make contact with her. Find out what she knows.”

And with that, the ever-exhausted father of far too many turned on his heel and left the cave.

The second Bruce left the cave, the tension snapped like a rubber band. Both Jason and Dick turned in perfect sync, glaring at each other with the intensity of a pending brawl.

“I’m going,” they declared at the same time.

Jason scoffed, folding his arms. “How do you even know her?”

“She was my date!” Dick snapped, voice pitching upward as his patience immediately vanished.

Jason blinked. “Wait—the one from that dating app?”

“You signed up for a dating app?!” Tim choked, spinning around so fast in his chair he nearly tipped over. His eyes were wide, scandalized. “You?!”

Dick didn’t even spare him a glance. “Yes. And we hit it off.” he said, sharp and pointed. “Now, how do you know her?”

“She’s the civilian I pulled out of that alley last week,” he said coolly, voice dipping into something just shy of smug. He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Should’ve walked her home, dickhead.”

Dick’s jaw clenched.

Jason smirked. “We grabbed coffee today.”

Dead silence.

And then—because he never knew when to shut up—Jason kept going. “She even kissed me.”

Dick’s expression shifted like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with something sharp and disbelieving.

“You’re lying.”

Jason raised a brow. “Am I? You really think I’d lie about something like that?”

“I think you’d do whatever it takes to piss me off.”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “That too.”

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Slowly wheeled himself back in his chair like he was watching a bomb about to go off.

Dick took a step forward. “She wouldn’t—”

“She did,” Jason cut in. “Not that it’s any of your business now.”

“That’s exactly what makes it my business,” Dick snapped.

“Funny. She didn’t seem to think so.”

“Alright,” Tim said quickly, raising both hands. “Before someone gets thrown into a wall—can we maybe, I don’t know, not have a turf war over a girl who clearly doesn’t belong to either of you?”

Neither of them looked at him.

Dick’s eyes narrowed into slits. “That’s it. I’m going to the gala.”

“Like hell you are!”

Tim raised a hand like a kid in class. “How about… rock, paper, scissors?”

Two sets of eyes pinned him to his seat. He shrank back a little. Then, after a beat, both brothers turned to each other.

There was a long pause.

Then, without a word, they stepped forward, hands balling into fists, resting on their open palms.

“On shoot,” Jason muttered.

“Obviously,” Dick snapped.

And they went.

“Rock, paper, scissors—shoot.”

Scissors. Paper.

Jason cursed under his breath.

“Always with the scissors,” Dick said smugly, shaking his head like an older brother who’d won this game a hundred times before. “You never learn.”

Jason’s glare could’ve peeled paint. But Dick was already sauntering off, throwing over his shoulder, “Better luck next time, Little Wing.”

“Best two out of three!” Jason called, stepping after him.

Dick scoffed. “I won fair and square. No one likes a sore loser.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—low, unintelligible—but Tim was pretty sure it included cheater, rigged, and next time I’m bringing a taser.

“Fine!” Jason snapped, crossing his arms with a tight huff. “But I want ground rules.”

Dick paused and turned around. He arched a curious brow, arms folded across his chest, then gave a slow nod, signalling Jason to continue. “Go on.”

“First—we don’t tell her we know each other.”

Dick nodded without hesitation. “Agreed.”

Jason took a step forward, the tension between them tightening like a wire. “We stay out of each other’s way. And I don’t think either of us should sleep with her—not until she makes her decision. Things’ll get messy.”

Behind them, Tim mock-gagged. “Ugh. Can we not?” he muttered. He didn’t even want to think about his brothers in that context. He didn’t care that they were adopted—they were still his brothers, and thinking about them doing that was just gross on every possible level.

Dick held Jason’s gaze, steady and unflinching. “Fine.”

Jason’s tone shifted, quieter now—less about pride, more about principle. “And if this starts to mess with the case, or with us, we end it. Doesn’t matter where we’re at.”

Dick’s posture shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. But he nodded. “Done.”

They stared at each other for a beat.

“Whoever she chooses,” Dick said, calm and clear, “the other backs off. No hard feelings.”

Jason’s fingers curled at his sides. A long pause.

Then, he nodded. “May the best man win.”

Dick’s gaze didn’t waver. “For her. The best man for her.”

Meanwhile, Tim watched the entire exchange unfold like a tennis match—head swivelling between brothers, eyes wide. He looked personally offended that no one had handed him popcorn.

“I’ve got to tell the others,” he muttered under his breath, already planning the group chat text.

Dick left for patrol not long after, slipping his domino mask into place with the smug confidence of a man who thought he’d just secured a win.

Jason, who didn’t need to suit up for another hour, turned to Tim with a groan and a scowl. “Alright, nerd. How did you even know where to look for that flagged experiment?”

Tim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Uh—it was actually Damian.”

Jason’s eye twitched.

“He said the doctor might be a potential lead. Once we ran her name, we found the connection to her brother and his research. Looked solid.”

Jason exhaled slowly through his nose. Of course it was Damian. The demon spawn never let anything go. And this was exactly what he got for digging into her file on Batcave servers of all places. He might as well have slapped a neon sign across the screen that read I’m hiding something, please investigate. The one girl he was actually interested in—and she was tangled up in one of their ugliest cases to date.

Jason turned to Tim, narrowing his eyes like a man about to drag someone else into his personal war.

“You’re gonna help me.”

Tim blinked. “With… what exactly?”

“Reconning Dick.”

Tim frowned. “Didn’t you two literally just agree not to interfere?”

“I’m not interfering,” Jason said, far too quickly. “I’m making sure he sticks to the rules.”

Tim gave him a long, deadpan look. “Uh-huh.”

Jason just stared.

Tim sighed, resigned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope.”

Another sigh. Tim rolled his chair back from the console like it was a death march. “I need a vacation. Or a therapist.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a real one, Replacement.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 day ago

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Older, Wiser and Hotter than Ever

Summary: Bucky is your best friend and recently turned boyfriend since he finally realized how in love with you he is. This is your first birthday with him as a couple, and he’s determined to make it your best birthday yet.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff, smut, maybe ooc bucky, but idc, swearing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, modern bucky, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, this is so self indulgent, enjoy.

Today is a special day. It’s Bucky’s favorite day, actually.

It is your birthday.

He’d always made a big deal out of it, even before you officially got together, and he wasn’t about to stop now just because he’d finally gotten you into his bed after years of pining.

Everything had changed, and also nothing at all. You were still you, and Bucky was still Bucky, but you were 100% all in with each other now.

He was in the kitchen with you, reading the instructions on the back of a box of cake mix while you leaned against the island counter and watched him. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of soft shorts, looking as hot as ever, while Bucky was wearing sweatpants and a black tee, both of you deciding to dress in your comfiest clothing since you wouldn’t be leaving the apartment.

Bucky glanced over at you, letting his gaze run up and down your body for a few seconds before he stood up straight. “I’m going to make you the best fucking cake you’ve ever eaten,” he stated as he set the strawberry flavored cake box down on the counter, though he knew his baking skills were embarrassingly limited. “And if it all goes to shit, which it probably will, I’ll just order you a cake.”

In a perfect world, he’d know how to use all the tools he’d bought specifically for this day, and he’d be able to make a cake that tasted way better than decent, but in all honesty, he didn’t have high hopes. And he knew you wouldn’t really care either way, and that just made him love you even more.

“Don’t worry, doll,” he grinned. “You’ll get your cake one way or another.”

You laughed and took a few steps towards him. “I don’t need much, Buck,” you said, wrapping your arms around his bicep. “All I could ever want on my birthday is you. And, you know, birthday sex.”

Bucky smirked and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he rested a possessive hand on your lower back. “Is that right?” he murmured, “Well, I think you’re pretty lucky then, because I’ve got quite a lot of both to give.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, then he kept his lips there as he spoke again,

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said as he placed a series of kisses down the side of your face before pulling back to look at you. “I’m gonna make it the best fucking birthday you’ve ever had. Cake, presents, and all the birthday sex you can handle.”

You hummed, “Thank you. And I think you know by now that I can handle quite a bit. And I’d never be able to get enough of you,”

Bucky’s smirk grew as he leaned down and grazed his teeth along the shell of your ear. “Oh, I know exactly how much you can handle, doll. But I still plan to put it to the test tonight,” he said, his voice as confident as ever as his hand ran up and down your back. “But first, I’m going to make you a cake, and I think you should probably help me do it so I don’t burn down our kitchen. Come on, birthday girl.”

An hour later, after you had to read the instructions again to Bucky and set the timer for him, you were sitting on his lap at the table, the cake placed on the surface in front of you. You watched him decorate it before he stuck a few candles in it and lit them for you, and when you read the message he wrote in icing on the top of the cake, you laughed as you felt a blush creep up on your face.

“I gotta say, I didn’t have much faith in your baking skills, but now I know to never doubt you,” you teased, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Bucky. This is already the best fucking birthday I’ve ever had.”

Bucky laughed and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he leaned in to press a firm kiss to your lips. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth, one of his hands stroking up and down your bare thigh.

Once you began indulging in the cake after he’d handed you a fork, Bucky reached for this phone and scrolled through all the playlists you and he had made until he found the one he was looking for.

A second later, This Year’s Love started playing through the speaker, and when you turned your head to look at him with a knowing grin, Bucky stood up and pulled you away from the table.

He guided you back into his arms, and you practically melted against him as he swayed you around a bit, his hands sprawled along your lower back. “Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered, then twirled you under his arm as he added, “I hope all your wishes come true, especially all the ones that involve me and you in bed later tonight.”

You laughed as he brought you back into his embrace, and you pressed your face against the side of his neck. “Thank you,” you mumbled, brushing your lips against his skin in a series of gentle kisses. “I have so many wishes for later tonight…most of which I wouldn’t mind getting a start on now.”

Bucky groaned under his breath as you kissed along his neck, and the feeling sent waves of desire straight to his groin. “Doll, I’m trying to dance with you, and now you’re making me hard,” he grunted, and his hands slid down to your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze.

You pulled back to look up at him, your eyes meeting in an intense stare. “You started it,”

Then you leaned up to kiss him, and Bucky groaned again as he kissed you back before he took your hand in his and pulled you down the hall toward yours and his room. He didn’t bother closing the door as he lifted you up into his arms and carried you over to the bed.

Bucky set you down on the mattress before following after you, covering your body with his as he pressed kisses along your jaw. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmured as his hands lifted the hem of his hoodie to expose more of your skin. “I’ll give it to you, whatever you want.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as you leaned back on the bed. “I want the birthday sex you promised me earlier,” you say, draping your arms around his shoulders as you pull him down for another deep and messy kiss. “I want you…over and over again until I can’t take anymore. Then I want more.”

Bucky’s normally bright eyes were dark now as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard you’d made him within seconds. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything you want and more,” he promised as he pulled his hoodie off your body and tossed it aside without care before he did the same with your shorts.

He hooked his fingers in the waistline of your panties and slowly peeled the thin fabric down your thighs, his eyes fixated on your core as he bit back a groan.

“Spread those pretty legs for me, doll,” he murmured, settling in between your thighs when you obliged. He wasted no time in leaning in, his mouth closing over your puffy clit that had been throbbing for his attention, and he let his tongue flick against the bud a few times.

“Bucky,” you gasped, arching your back a bit as he worshiped you with his mouth, alternating between teasing licks and gentle sucks.

One of his hands reached up to grasp your breast, and he rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger as he ate you out, making his own sounds of pleasure against your core as he did so.

It was quite obvious that he enjoyed doing this as much as you enjoyed receiving it, and he had ever since the very first time he went down on you, only a few months ago. But that was after pining for you for years, and dreaming about how you taste and the sounds you would make for him.

It’s safe to say that you are better than all of his fantasies combined.

“You taste so good, baby. So fucking sexy,” he mumbled against your clit as his other hand teased your folds. He slid his fingers inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that greeted him, and he curled them slightly as he licked at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were whining and writhing so much already, Bucky knew it wouldn’t take much to get you there, and it only made him increase both the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Your thighs were shaking a bit as you nodded quickly, reaching down to tug on his hair. “I am,” you breathed, “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Bucky groaned against you as he finger fucked you harder and sealed his mouth over your clit once more, sucking hard and earning another sharp gasp from you. “Come on, doll, give it to me,”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you arched your back even more, your body shaking as you came hard, a cry of his name leaving your lips. “Oh, my fucking God,” you whimpered, bucking your hips against his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Bucky licked and lapped at your folds, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could as he savored the taste of you on his tongue. When you slumped back on the pillow, he lifted his head, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “You’re so fucking hot,” he rasped, slowly pulling his fingers out of you as he crawled back up your body, and he sucked his fingers clean as you reached for the hem of his tee.

He helped you pull it off before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hands roaming over your body and caressing the curves he’d become obsessed with.

You kissed him back as you reached in between your bodies to push down his sweats, and he kicked them the rest of the way off, letting them join the pile of clothes that was scattered on the bedroom floor.

“I need you,” you whined against his lips as he hovered over you, “Please.”

Bucky grinned against your mouth before kissing you one last time as he positioned himself at your core. A deep groan left the back of his throat when he pushed forward and thrust inside you, your warmth instantly welcoming him in. “God, you feel so good,” he muttered as he rocked his hips slowly at first. “So fucking tight and wet for me.”

You moaned, tipping your head back on the pillow as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. “Bucky…fuck, feels so good,” you praised, sliding your hands back into his hair.

He groaned at the added pleasure as he found a pace that left both of you breathless. “I think you were made for me, baby,” he rasped, his grip on your hips tightening to hold you in place for his thrusts. “Made to squeeze me so fucking tight.” he added lowly before he leaned down and captured on of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at your senstive flesh.

You whined loudly, arching your back into the feeling of his mouth as he worked his way across to your other breast, and he gave that one the same attention. “Maybe I was,” you whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as he fucked into you in a way that had you seeing stars. “Maybe we were made for each other…it just took us a while to realize that.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh as he finally gave your poor chest a break, and he lifted his head to meet your gaze. “No, doll, I realized that the day I met you,” he managed to say as he continued to slide his cock in and out of you. “I knew you were everything to me.” he added, bracing his elbows at either side of your head as he leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to your mouth.

You let out a shaky moan as you squirmed under him, and you slid your hands down his back as you pulled away from the kiss. “You feel so perfect, Buck,” you whimpered as you buried your face against his shoulder and placed open mouthed kisses along his heated skin. “So good…I love you so much.”

A shudder ran through Bucky’s body as his thrusts became a little harder and a little faster once he felt his high creeping up on him. He tangled his fingers in your hair and gently pulled your head back to expose your neck, and he lowered his head to pepper your skin with soft, barely-there kisses.

“I love you too, doll,” he panted, his voice strained a bit as he held himself back. “More than anything in this fucking world.”

You clenched around him, and you got louder and louder as the seconds went on, signaling that you were close as well. But he’d get you there again first, like he always did.

He angled his body so his pelvis was brushing against your clit with every deep thrust, and he felt you clench again. “Cum for me, baby,” he murmured, “Squeeze me with this perfect pussy.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, hiking your legs higher around his waist as you let out pretty sounds for him. Only a few seconds later, you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders as you came for him again, enveloping him in a warm, wet wave that left you shaking and breathless.

Bucky buried himself inside you a few more times before stilling as he came as well, filling you up as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Fuck,” he grunted, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you.

He pressed a final kiss to your collarbone before rolling onto his side, taking you with him as he held you in his arms.

You were both panting and a little sweaty as you laid still, the room filled with the aftersounds of the rather intense session. “You’re incredible, baby,” he mumbled as he pressed soft kisses all over your face. “Every time with you just keeps getting better and better.”

You hummed, resting your head on his chest that was still rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Hopefully it continues to get better and better,” you said back, “I’d hate to see the day where it becomes really bad.”

Bucky laughed, tightening his hold on you. “I don’t think we have to worry about that any time soon. You and I are different, baby. What we have is real and strong, and it just grows stronger every single day,” he said, tracing random shapes onto your bare back. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I could fuck you in every position imaginable, every day, and still not grow tired of you. You’re too sexy.”

You groaned as he slid a teasing hand down to the curve of your ass. “Bucky,” you whined, burying your face against his chest. “You can’t say that to me after fucking me. It’s not fair.”

He laughed again and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “When have I ever been fair?” he teased, “And if I can’t say it after fucking you, then when can I? You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, fully clothed and completely naked. And I’m not only saying that because I’m still hard.”

You laughed loudly and covered your face. “Oh, my God,”

Bucky smirked and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re irreplaceable, doll. There’s no one else for me,” he promised.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, a lazy smile on your lips. “How can you be so sweet yet so sexy at the same time?” you questioned, “You’re being so sweet, yet I can literally feel your dick against my hip right now.”

Bucky shrugged, “You bring out every side of me,” he answered and you just shook your head as you cuddled against his side. “Lay with me for a bit, then I’ll give you your presents, and then we can come right back here.”

A smirk tugged at your lips at that, and you nodded as you propped your chin up on his shoulder. “Sounds good,” you mumbled, “Though, the only present I’ll ever need is attached to you.”

A matching smirk formed on Bucky’s lips as he propped one hand behind his head and closed his eyes. “Good to know,”

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wosospacegirl · 1 day ago

Text

The rise and fall of Gunnersaurus

Summary: Y/n and Kyra take their daughters to media day, but they never expected the mascot to be the one to pay the price.

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is ATWR blurb but can be read as a standalone.

Masterlist

Kyra crouched down to Emilia’s eye level, the laces of the girl’s boots tangled in her hands, while Y/n gently brushed Sofia’s hair behind her ears, a soft smile on her face.

“Alright, girls,” Kyra began, her voice calm and steady as she focused on Emilia’s boots.

“We’re going to do some media stuff todayy. That means there will be cameras, bright lights, and some people asking us questions. How does that sound? You both okay with it?”

Emilia didn’t even hesitate. She nodded quickly, already scanning the pitch where the media dia would happen.

“Will I be on the youtube channel?” she asked, way too serious for an eight-year-old.

Y/n raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s... shockingly specific, but yes, probably,” she replied.

Sofia, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic.

Y/n smiled “She will. She is filming stuff too,” she reassured Sofia, her voice warm and soothing.

She fidgeted with the hem of her soft Arsenal shirt, her face creased with uncertainty.

"Will Aunty Leah be there?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At that, Sofia’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Yay!” she cheered, throwing her hands up in the air.

Y/n glanced over at Kyra with false betrayal. “I miss when I was her favourite,” she said, pretending to pout.

Kyra chuckled, patting her on the shoulder. “You had a good run, but now it’s...Leah’s era,” she teased, giving Y/n a playful side-eye.

Meanwhile, Emilia had already taken off in the direction of the first camera, her voice loud and confident as she asked a media intern, “Do you think this is my good side?”

Sofia, still clinging to Kyra’s leg, whispered hesitantly, “I don’t want to talk unless one of you is watching...” Her voice was soft,a little shy. She hid her face behind Kyra’s thigh.

Y/n smiled down at her, crouching beside her. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll both be there, always

And so it began, Arsenal’s media day, with one future footballer already taking charge and one little girl who was still figuring out where she fit in the world.

Everything was going surprisingly well.

Sofia, Emilia, Kyra, and Y/n sat down for a round of ‘Who’s Most Likely To,’ they were laughing and throwing out answers to questions like: ‘most likely to befriend an animal’— which, unsurprisingly, was Sofia.

Then Emilia and Kyra filmed a ‘better ball control’ challenge, with Emilia pulling off a perfect nutmeg on Kyra, only once, but Kyra knew she would bring it up for the rest of the week. or the rest of her life.

Meanwhile, Y/n and Sofia found a quiet corner to host a tea party with Gunnersaurus, their ridiculous tiny plastic cups clinking as they whispered about colour and football.

But it all started to go south the second the first team players wandered into the media zone.

The moment Emilia spotted Leah, she dropped the ball without a second thought, sprinting across the set.

“Aunty Leah!” she shouted, launching herself into the air with the kind of determination that made even Kyra flinch.

Leah, of course, caught her effortlessly, her arms locking around Emilia’s waist with a practised grace, as though she did this every day

Which, considering the way Emilia was practically hanging from her, was probably true.

And Sofia, abandoned her tea party mid-sip.

She patted Gunnersaurus on the arm and said, “I have to go,” before running full speed after her sister.

She launched herself straight at Leah’s free side, throwing her arms around her, forcing Leah to adjust to avoid being knocked off balance.

But Leah managed it, and flashed a grin to the camera, still holding both girls.

Y/n and Kyra exchanged a glance, both of them standing off to the side, watching the scene.

Gunnersaurus looked abandoned at the kids tea table. He stared at the empty spot where the girls had once been with a betrayed look.

“She ditched you,” Y/n said, her voice sympathetic.

Gunnersaurus nodded, sadly.

From a distance, Kyra and Y/n observed as Leah, Sofia, and Emilia sat down on the turf, cross-legged and giggling.

A small deck of question cards was spread out between them.

They were playing some sort of ‘Ask Aunty Leah’ game, with Sofia reading aloud the questions she could manage while Emilia helped with the more difficult ones.

“Okay, Aunty Leah,” Emilia began, holding up a card. “Who on the team is most likely to get a red card?”

Leah smirked, leaning bck on her hands as she thought. “Hmm, definitely Katie McCabe. Or maybe your mom Y/n,” she added, her grin widening at the thought.

Kyra snorted from a few feet away, her voice too soft to be heard by the kids but loud enough for Y/n to smirk at.

Emilia’s eyes widened. “I got a red card once,” she said, almost proudly, as if it were some kind of accomplishment. “But Mama said that wasn’t nice.”

Leah chuckled, her voice full of warmth. “She’s right. Red cards are never nice.” Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “I’ve never gotten one.”

Emilia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You’ve never gotten one?!”

��Nope. Not even once,” Leah said with a grin, giving Emilia a small wink.

There was a beat of silence as Emilia processed what she just hear.

Then, with a serious expression on her face, she said. “Okay. I’m gonna stop getting red cards too.”

Kyra groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Y/n blinked in disbelief, turning to Kyra.

“What the hell? We’ve tried everything…grounding, bribing, talking about sportmanship– and all we needed was Leah bloody Williamson?”

Despite the frustration, Y/n couldn’t suppress a grin as she watched Leah laugh and toss a playful glance at her two mini fans.

Sofia, leaned in to whisper something in Leah’s ear, causing Emilia to burst into giggles, falling backwards.

Kyra nudged Y/n, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even in the top three anymore, are we?”

Y/n sighed dramatically, a playful frown on her face. “Not even close.”

Everything had been going smoothly, the girls surprisingly well-behaved, absorbed in their time with Leah.

But, as always, it was only a matter of time before the girls turned the wuiet day into chaos.

Sofia, in a bold move, decided to play right in front of the mini goal Emilia was using for her shots.

“Move, Sofi!” Emilia shouted, hands flying in frustration. “You’re in the way!”

But Sofia just huffed and snatched the ball from under her sister’s feet before bolting away.

“Give it back!” Emilia shrieked, chasing her sister.

Eventually, Emilia managed to reclaim the ball.

But in the process, her final, desperate kick sent it flying straight into Gunnersaurus’s head.

The girls stared, wide-eyed and frozen in horror.

The mascot froze, a split second of stunned silence before he fell backward, flat on his back.

His massive arms flopped to the side, and his tail twitched once before going still.

“Mom!!!!” Sofia screamed. “Emilia killed Gunnersaurus!!”

Y/n and Kyra were across the pitch, chatting with a staff member, when they heard the scream.

Both froze.

“Oh my god,” Y/n muttered, wide-eyed. “I knew today was going too well.”

They sprinted toward the scene, Kyra’s boots thudding on the turf, Y/n already rehearsing her apology to the poor intern inside the dinosaur.

Gunnersaurus was sitting up, a little dazed, the foam head lolling at an awkward angle. The intern inside gave a faint, muffled, “I’m okay!”

Y/n crouched in front of them. “Okay, okay. Let’s all breathe. Nobody is dead. Right, Gunnersaurus?”

Emilia stood frozen, her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

Sofia was sobbing into Gunnersaurus's arm, like she was mourning a dear friend.

The mascot gave a weak thumbs-up.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emilia blurted out, voice shaking. “I was just trying to score. She took my ball!”

“I didn’t take it!” Sofia sniffled, her lip quivering. “You weren’t sharing!”

“I was sharing!”

“You were yelling!”

“Okay, okay!” Kyra clapped her hands, stepping between them. “No fighting in front of the corpse.”

Y/n gave Kyra a look. 'Really' she mouthed.

“What? Too soon?” Kyra added with a wince.

Y/n turned back to the girls, focusing on the moment. “Accidents happen, but you need to be more careful. Especially when there are people, mascots, or dinossaurs around.”

“But I said I was sorry.…” Emilia whispered, the weight of it finally hitting her.

“And that’s good,” Kyra added gently, crouching beside her. “But sorry means you try not to do it again

Sofia glanced up, her tears drying as she looked at the mascot. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s fine,” Y/n reassured, glancing at the now-dazed Gunnersaurus. “He Might need a water break and a new head, but he's fine.”

Emilia crept over to the mascot, she hugged his green arm, and whispered, “Sorry for concussing you.”

Gunnersaurus gave her a gentle pat on the head.

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples. “I swear, these two are going to be the death of me.”

Kyra draped an arm over her shoulder. “Nahh. they still need to embarrassed us on camera at least five more times.”

“Great.”

At that moment, Leah, who had just returned from the bathroom, walked into the room and took in the scene. “Did I miss something?”

Y/n and Kyra exchanged a glance, taking in the chaos: Gunnersaurus sprawled on the ground, the girls standing with wide eyes, and the air thick with tension.

Leah’s gaze flickered from the fallen mascot to the two girls, and then Sofia, her cheeks still damp, looked up. “Aunty Leah, Emilia killed Gunnersaurus.”

Leah blinked. “Oh.” She paused for a moment, her expression unreadable, before a grin tugged at her lips. “Well, that’s unfortunate. So... who wants to go get cake with Aunty Leah?”

“Me!” Both girls shouted in unison, practically dragging Leah toward the door, hands clutching hers as they ran off in excitement.

Y/n and Kyra just watched them go. Y/n couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Y/n nodded, still watching Leah and the girls. “Without a doubt.”

Kyra let out a chuckle, squeezing Gunnersaurus’s hand as she helped him steady himself.

“She’s definitely their favourite,” she murmured, a mix of amusement and resignation in her voice.

a/n: if you read this far — first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought!

i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #wlw writing #wlw fanfic #kyra cooney cross fanfic #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #and they were roommates #and they were roommates blurbs

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anglbnny · 2 days ago

Text

celebrity what? ♡ Multiple blue lock

.ᐟcw: fluff, slightly suggestive, mentioning your celebrity crush to them

⸝⸝♡⸝⸝♡

ISAGI YOICHI

When he catches you absolutely drooling at the TV screen, he’s a bit taken back. He sits beside you for a while before speaking up. “I’ve never seen you watch something so intensely” you look over at him and grin. You wait for the right moment and point at the screen “i’m only doing it for him, he’s sooo finee” you groan, throwing your bed back.

Isagi just stares before awkwardly laughing. “Haha.. yeah he’s cool.. Or whatever” he mumbles. A very obvious pout plastered over his face.

Later that night this man is literally trying to get under your skin, physically. His arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, face buried in your chest.

“Why do you even like that guy…” he says quietly, making you laugh.

“Yoi’ don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that”

“I’m also a celebrity.. Well- not a celebrity but i’m popular, so why him”

“Baby..” you tried covering your laugh, running your hand through his hair. “It’s just a celebrity crush, nothing else” he stays silent before finally speaking up.

“You’re mine though, right? No one else’s”

“Yes baby, i’m yours”

SAE ITOSHI

You’re giggling at an edit on your phone. Sae turns around, the bed dipping as he moves closer to you, looking over at your phone.

“What’s so funny”

“Oh nothing, just an edit” you giggle, saving it to your gallery.

“You’re smiling at that lukewarm thing?” he scoffs, taking your phone out your hand, making you whine and reach out for it.

“ Give it back, sae!!”

“You have shit taste, and i’m better than that thing” you gasp, hitting his chest. He reluctantly hands back the phone. Not showing it but you can clearly see that he’s mad.

That night when you finally crawl into bed wearing a cute little nightgown, lying down on his chest, his hand slips under the silky fabric, pulling a quiet moan out of you. “I’m the only man that should be on your mind”

RIN ITOSHI

You casually mention a celeb you think is cute while scrolling, and Rin immediately glares.

“Tch. You're fucking stupid if you think he’s better than me.”

You try to laugh it off but he’s dead serious, jaw clenched.

Later, while you’re brushing your teeth, Rin traps you between the sink and his body, towering over you. His arms wrap around your body, too tightly.

“Rin, is something wrong?” you asked, tilting your head up to look at him, scowling.

“Don’t mention other guys again” his lips trail down your neck, leaving featherlight kisses along your shoulder blades.

KAISER MICHAEL

You accidentally mention your celeb crush infront of him and all hell breaks loose. He’s scoffing, pouting, rolling his eyes, telling you that there is literally no other man better than him and he should be your only crush.

“That thing? Pfft, fucking basic. I’m a way better option” you stare at him with the most confused expression, because this man is tweaking for no reason.

“Misha, you’re literally my boyfriend”

“That shouldn’t stop you from having a crush on me”

“Your logic is flawed” you laugh, he narrows his eyes on you. Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your arm, pulling you towards him to make you straddle his lap.

He looks annoyed, fingers digging into your flesh. “He’s not the one who gets you wet every night, is he?”

“MICHAEL!” you gasped, hitting his chest only for him to pull you closer to him. His face is dead serious.

“He’s not the one you make you cum over and ov-” you slap a hand over his mouth, face red and flustered.

“Stop.. enough..” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “Im sorry for having a crush, i won’t have one ever again” you can feel his lips curl up into a smile, under your hand. He licks your palm make you yank it away.

“Good, that's my girl” he smirks, gently kissing your lips.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

You mention a hot celeb in passing and Shidou SNAPS.

"That fuckin’ poser?! Tch."

He's immediately in your space, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

"Bet he couldn’t make you scream like I do, yeah?"

He kisses you rough, biting your lip just enough to make you gasp — and he smirks when you cling to him. (Shidou does NOT let you forget who owns you.)

NAGI SEISHIRO

When you say the celebrity's name, Nagi just blinks at you.

"Huh... but I'm here..." he doesn’t even under why you have a celebrity crush, it makes no sense.

“I know baby but it’s just.. You know” you whine, not being able to explain a celebrity crush.

He looks genuinely confused and a little hurt, tugging you down onto the bed with him. large body trapping you. Lazily tangling his limbs around you, he buries his face in your chest like a big sleepy cat.

"You don't need anyone else... just stay here..."

You end up staying in bed the entire afternoon, his sleepy affection melting your heart.

REO MIKAGE

When you tease Reo about a celebrity crush, he just grins, in reality he’s dying on the inside. He can’t figure out why you would crush on other guys when he literally gives you everything. Stuff no other men could give you.

But then he disappears for an hour... and returns with a bag.

Inside? A stupidly expensive bracelet you offhandedly said you liked WEEKS ago.

"Pretty girls deserve pretty things," he hums, clasping it onto your wrist.

“Reo.. this is beautiful” you mumble, kissing his cheek, twisting your wrist and admiring the way the light catches it. It was crazy he bought this because it was stupid expensive. Maybe not for reo but it was still expensive.

"And none of those guys can treat you like I do. They can’t spoil you like i do." he says, a bit pouty before wrapping his arms around you.

He makes you straddle his lap afterward, demanding thank-you kisses until he forgets why he was mad in the first place. (he wasn’t technically mad, just pouty)

Taglist:@samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella

A/n: Some fluff cause why not

ꨄ︎Anglbnny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

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honeytonedhottie · 2 days ago

Text

shopping tips from a professional shopaholic⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💕

in this post im going to give you the rundown of my all-time FAVORITE activity… shopping! and i must say im quite the professional. i’ll be talking about navigating sales, identifying deals, and finding the CUTEST stuff that’s worth ur buck…💬🎀

GOOD DEAL VS. BAD DEAL ;

let’s imagine there’s a big sale going on. $5 for 10 basic tank tops that are so cute! but the quality isn’t very good. but it doesn’t matter cuz there r 10 different tops right? WRONG. quality > price ALWAYS, sometimes cheap isn’t a good deal if it won’t last. if it’s a reasonable price for good quality than it’s a good deal, but if u have to pay a pretty penny for good quality products it’ll be worth it in the long run.

when shopping for clothes think of investing in pieces that will actually get used. imagine ur looking at two super cute hand bags, one is $50 that you’ll prob wear like twice and that you don’t anticipate will last very long and the other is $150, it’s designer and it’s high quality and goes with more outfits.

the $50 bag worn twice = $25 per wear. not worth it.

the $200 bag worn 100+ times = $2 per wear. way more value for your money.

now THATS girl math. investing in well made pieces actually saves you money in the grand scheme of things. you’ll have go to pieces, so make sure ur thinking about you’ll be wearing the piece ur about to buy.

FINDING THE GOOD STUFF ;

when shopping i love to go to the mall or online shop but ultimately THRIFTING has my heart. i’ll find these super cute pieces or pieces with loads of potential that i have a vision for, and i’ll DIY it until it’s exactly what i want. that way i have original pieces in my wardrobe that no one else does. it makes me feel like a custom barbie doll 🎀

when shopping i gravitate towards clothes within my color palette (pinks, black, browns, creams). because i know my colors and my palette so well it’s easy for me to mix and match pieces and thinks blend easier. next i check the fabric bcuz even if a piece is cute, if it won’t last i don’t bother wasting my money.

another thing i always make sure to do is try on the piece before purchasing it because the fit is also important. i want the piece to flatter my proportions. another thing i take note of is unique details that elevate that the piece already has or that i can add. some examples include…

faux furs

rhinestones

cute ruffles

always browse beyond the mannequin displays. oftentimes the best pieces are hidden in the back of the rack or in sections you wouldn’t normally check. also, don’t sleep on the kids’ or men’s sections, they have good stuff there too!

NAVIGATING SALES LIKE A PRO ;

sales are such a blessing when u know how to navigate them correctly. when theres a sale make sure to ask yourself if you'd buy that same item at full price. if not, PUT IT DOWNNN. a discount literally means shit if the item is just gonna collect dust in ur closet.

also, know what a real sale is as opposed to a fake one, some stores mark up prices just to mark them down again. do ur research and compare prices to different shops to see if you’re actually getting a deal.

PRO TIP : holiday sales and end-of-season clearances usually have the best markdowns, so that’s when i go all out and stock up...👛💕

ONLINE VS OFFLINE SHOPPING ;

the perks of online shopping include :

better for finding exclusive pieces

online only discounts and promo codes

make sure to check the reviews for something before buying anything!

the perks of offline shopping include :

you can actually try on the pieces

you see the item in person, feel the fabric, its much more intimate and personal

impulse buys are typically less tempting

to get the best from both worlds i'll do some research before shopping in person to check the quality. if I love it, i buy it right then and there. iff it’s cheaper online, i'll order it online.

REWARD SYSTEMS AND MEMBERSHIPS ;

if ur a shopaholic TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MEMBERSHIPS AND REWARD SYSTEMS, especially from shops and boutiques that u frequent.

🎀 keep track of birthday and anniversary sales

🎀 subscribe to emails

🎀 sign up for store memberships

SOME OF MY FAVORITE ONLINE SHOPS ;

🛍️ i.am.gia

🛍️ shou shou cherry

🛍️ princess polly

🛍️ prty grl beauty

🛍️ depop

🛍️ poshmark

🛍️ pieces of porcelain

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jungkoode · 1 day ago

Text

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 22

˗ˏˋ karaoke night ˎˊ˗

"Vanilla extract has always been his lifeline, and tonight is no different."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 11k

content: friendly drunkness, karaoke, lowkey interest, girl talk, unwanted appearances, trauma responses, isolation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, vulnerability, sneak peeks, soft, lowkey real conversations, subtle references to the past.

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY. Let me just start by screaming into the void real quick: SIX. HUNDRED. NOTES. And TWO HUNDRED VOTES. IN LESS THAN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS?? What the actual hell is wrong with you people??? I'm genuinely flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Reeling. I thought I had time. I thought I could chill. But NO. Y’all are CRACKED and now I’m upping the goal like an absolute psychopath because clearly you’re fiends and I am merely your supplier. I’ll give you your fix, don’t worry. Just know I’m running out of backlogged chapters and my therapist is gonna hear about it.

Anyway.

This chapter. Hoo boy. This chapter feels like the emotional hangover after a wild night—the kind where everything feels a little too raw, a little too exposed, and you’re left trying to piece together what the fuck happened between the yelling and the tequila. There's a reason why I framed it this way, too—because this is the shift. The oh shit, real people have real pasts and they bleed sometimes moment. The façade cracks here, and it does so in ways that are deliberately uncomfortable.

Jungkook is so many things in this chapter, but most importantly, he’s small. And I don’t mean that physically. I mean small like a kid trying to crawl into his own skin. That rooftop scene? I wanted you to feel the stillness after the storm, the weird quiet that happens when someone you thought was bulletproof shows up vulnerable and unguarded for once. And it’s messy. He doesn’t have answers. He doesn’t give you the sob story, not yet. He gives you glimpses. Vanilla extract, deflections, silence. All of it is by design.

(Also yes, the vanilla extract thing is a metaphor. Yes, I know it’s weird. No, I won’t elaborate. Just know it’s real and kind of tragic and also weirdly endearing. Like him.)

And Y/N… god. She’s tiptoeing the line so hard here. Because she wants to help and she wants to understand and she also very much wants to not feel. But she does. And she hates it. And she jokes because otherwise she’ll unravel. And that’s what makes this chapter so bittersweet to me—because they’re both posturing like they’re fine, but their actions betray them. Their quiet kindness, the subtle care. The intimacy isn’t in the sex anymore. It’s in the stillness. In the scent memory. In the way he says “you smell like vanilla” like it’s the only anchor he has left.

And let’s not even talk about Mia because that woman is the human embodiment of a champagne cork to the eye. I will simply say this: trauma is not always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper that sticks to your ribs. Sometimes it’s someone’s name.

Anyway.

This chapter is long, chaotic, unfiltered, and possibly one of the most emotionally raw things I’ve written for this fic so far. So please take care of yourself while reading. You don’t have to romanticize brokenness. You don’t have to love these characters for their damage. But you can hold space for them. Just like they’re learning to do for each other.

Also Taehyung deserves a nap and a raise for his emotional labor.

As always, I’m deeply grateful you’re here, crying and laughing and spiraling with me. Keep being feral in the comments. Keep voting if it makes your little goblin brain happy. And maybe—just maybe—hug your own Jungkook if you’ve got one.

Or your therapist.

They deserve it.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Tequila makes you do stupid shit, like hugging people you normally avoid touching with a ten-foot pole.

You practically launch yourself from your seat, the room tilting at an alarming angle as you throw your arms around Yeji's neck.

"Holy shit," she laughs, body stiffening with surprise before awkwardly patting your back. "Okay, this is literally the first hug you've ever given me and I don't know how to feel about it."

You ignore her, already detaching yourself and stumbling toward Irya, who catches you with more grace, giggling as you nearly topple both of you over.

"Hi to you too," she says, squeezing back gently.

Jimin is next, accepting your clumsy attempt at physical affection with the patient tolerance of someone used to dealing with drunk friends. He pats your back, concern etched in his features.

"How are you doing?" he asks, holding you at arm's length to study your face.

You flash him a thumbs up, swaying slightly on your feet. "Absofuckinglutely amazing."

"Okay, yeah. No." He shakes his head, exchanging a knowing look with Yeji.

"Why are you guys even here?!" The question bursts out louder than you intended, making several heads turn.

Yeji shrugs, all casual nonchalance. "This is a famous ramen place. Irya's been wanting to come for a long time."

"Guilty!" Irya raises her hand with a sheepish smile.

"And Jimin was like a lost puppy, so we just kind of adopted him," Yeji adds, nodding toward him.

Irya shoves Yeji's shoulder. "No, actually, I was studying with Jimin, and Yeji just came in and was like 'yo, let's have spicy ramen!' And we kinda rolled with it."

You snort, turning around to find the entire table watching this interaction with varying degrees of amusement.

Jungkook has his hand pressed against his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

You mouth 'die' at him, and he throws his palms up in mock surrender, the bastard.

"Well..." You gesture vaguely, suddenly realizing you need to perform introductions. "These are my friends."

The words feel strange on your tongue—not because they're untrue, but because saying them out loud makes them real in a way you weren't prepared for.

"Yeji, Irya, and Jimin," you continue, pointing at each one. "And this is... um..."

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to remember the names of all the people around this table. There's Yoongi, obviously, and Taehyung, and Hobi, and... the others. The gaming nerds. And Tessa. And that other girl who judged your ramen choice.

You wave your hand in a circle, encompassing the whole table. "Jungkook's birthday squad."

Awkwardness settles over you as you realize the predicament. Your friends are here, but it's not like you can just abandon Jungkook's party to join them. That would be rude. And weird. And probably not what a good roommate would do.

Not that you care about being a good roommate. But still. Principle of the thing or whatever.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Yeji speaks up. "We were heading to the karaoke place that's like five minutes from here, if y'all want to come?"

All eyes shift to Jungkook, the birthday boy, the decision-maker.

But instead of looking at his friends, he looks at you first.

You look back at him, a silent question passing between you.

Then he smiles—not his usual smirk, but something softer, more genuine—and turns to Yeji.

“Sure, absolutely. Count us in."

“Hell yes!” Hobi exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to show off my pipes!”

“God help us all,” Taehyung mutters, but he’s already standing, clearly on board with the plan.

“What about the bill?” Diana asks, glancing around at the mess of empty glasses and half-finished food.

“Already covered,” Yoongi says, holding up his phone to show a payment confirmation. “Birthday gift.”

“You paid for all of this?” You blink at him, genuinely surprised. “That’s… actually really nice, Yoongi.”

He shrugs, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the acknowledgment. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” you insist, the alcohol making you more earnest than usual. “You’re a good friend.”

He gives you a look that clearly says ‘please stop talking now,’ so you do, but not before patting his shoulder in what you hope is a comradely fashion.

The group begins gathering their things, a chaotic shuffle of jackets and phones and forgotten scarves. You stand in the middle of it all, suddenly aware of how drunk you actually are as the room tilts alarmingly when you try to take a step.

“Whoa there,” a voice says near your ear, and then there’s a hand at your elbow, steadying you.

Jungkook.

“You good?”

“Fine,” you say automatically, then reconsider. “Okay, maybe not fine. But I’m upright, so that’s something.”

“A low bar, but I respect it.” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something else there too—concern, maybe. It’s hard to tell through the tequila fog.

“I can walk,” you insist, taking a deliberate step forward to prove your point.

Your legs cooperate, mostly, though the floor seems to be at a slight angle that wasn’t there before.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He’s still close, though, ready to catch you if you stumble. “Just making sure you don’t face-plant in front of everyone. Would hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

“Too late for that,” you mutter, remembering your enthusiastic greeting to your friends.

A laugh escapes him, quiet enough that only you can hear it. “Nah, you’re fine. You’re just… friendlier when you’re drunk. It’s kind of cute.”

“I am not cute,” you say with as much dignity as you can muster while swaying slightly. “I am intimidating and cool.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees solemnly. “The most intimidating and cool person in the room. Everyone’s terrified.”

You glare at him, but it’s hard to maintain when he’s looking at you like that—amused but not mocking, a softness around his eyes that makes your stomach do a weird flip that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Shut up,” you say, lacking a more clever comeback. “It’s your fault anyway. Your stupid friends kept giving me shots.”

“My stupid friends, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “And what does that make me?”

“The king of the stupid friends,” you declare, poking him in the chest. “The stupidest of them all.”

He catches your finger before you can poke him again, his hand warm around yours.

“Your Majesty, then.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—” You break off, distracted by the way he’s still holding your hand, casual as anything.

You pull away, flustered for no good reason.

“Let’s go. Karaoke awaits.”

“After you, Phoenix.” He gestures toward the door where your friends are gathering with the others.

You make your way over, focusing intently on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. It’s harder than it should be, but you manage, only weaving slightly.

Yeji appears at your side, linking her arm through yours.

“How much have you had to drink?” she asks, voice low.

“A moderate amount,” you hedge. “An appropriate amount. A birthday celebration amount.”

“So, too much.”

“Maybe.”

She sighs, tightening her grip on your arm. “Babes, I’ve never seen you drunk. You sure you’re okay?

“Yuuusss,” you decide, nodding solemnly. “I stand by my choices.”

“Of course you do.” She glances over at Jungkook, who’s now engaged in an animated conversation with Taehyung and Hobi. “So, what’s going on there?”

“Where?” you ask, playing dumb even though you know exactly what she means.

“With your roommate. The one whose birthday party we just crashed.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you insist, too quickly. “We’re just… I don’t know. Trying to be friends. Or something. I guess.”

Friends. You and Jungkook.

Friends.

It’s starting to sound less terrifying.

“I see.” She grins, positioning her head on your shoulder. “Just don’t replace me, huh? I’m your new college bestie. I claim that title.”

Before you can respond, Irya bounces over, linking her arm through Yeji’s free one.

“Are we ready? The karaoke place gets busy on Saturdays.”

“We’re ready,” you confirm, smiling stupidly at the blonde. “Lead the way.”

As your strange, merged group spills out onto the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you ended up here—drunk, surrounded by people who barely know each other, heading to a karaoke bar on a Saturday night.

It’s bizarre. Surreal. Absolutely not how you expected your evening to go when you agreed to take Jungkook to the MoMA this morning.

But as you watch him laugh at something Irya says, his face open and relaxed in a way you rarely see at home, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it.

Even if your head is spinning and your stomach is dangerously close to rejecting every questionable decision you’ve made tonight.

You catch his eye across the group, and he grins at you—that stupid, lopsided grin that always makes you want to either slap him or—

Well. Other things.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too, unable to help yourself. And when he falls into step beside you as the group starts moving, close enough that your shoulders occasionally brush, you don’t move away.

It’s his birthday, after all. You can give him that much.

Somehow, the sidewalk is significantly more difficult to navigate than it was four hours ago.

"Careful," Jimin murmurs as you stumble over absolutely nothing for the third time in two blocks. He steadies you with a gentle grip, adjusting to link his arm more securely with yours.

"The ground is uneven," you insist, though it's clearly not. "Poorly maintained city infrastructure. Someone should write a strongly worded letter."

"Definitely the sidewalk's fault," he agrees, humor warming his soft voice.

You've ended up at the back of your odd parade, watching as your two separate friend groups merge into a loud, laughing mass of bodies moving through the Manhattan night. Yeji has somehow ended up walking beside Taehyung, both of them gesturing wildly as they argue about something. Irya is chatting with Tessa—a combination you wouldn't have predicted—while Hobi tells an animated story to Ryan and Seth that has them howling with laughter.

And then there's Jungkook, right in the middle of it all, moving between conversations simply like someone accustomed to being the center of attention. Even from behind, you can tell he's having a good time—shoulders relaxed, head thrown back in laughter at something Hobi says.

You can’t help but think it’s… a bit strange, seeing him like this. In the apartment, he's always a bit wound up—ready with a sarcastic comment or provocation. But here, surrounded by friends, celebrating, he seems... looser.

Happier.

It's a good look on him.

Not that you care.

"Here we are!" Hobi announces as your group reaches a neon-lit storefront, the sign advertising ‘SING YOUR HEART OUT’ in aggressively colorful lettering. "Best karaoke in the East Village."

The place is crowded—not surprising for a Saturday night—but Hobi apparently knows someone who works here because you're whisked past the line of waiting people and into the lobby with minimal fuss.

Inside, it reeks of cheap beer and cheaper air freshener, and the walls are plastered with faded posters of pop stars past and present; along with some occasional muffled screech of someone butchering a high note from one of the private rooms.

Everyone begins shedding layers at the coat check, a flurry of jackets and scarves being handed over to a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up from her phone.

You hang back with Jimin, suddenly aware of how sweaty your shirt is under your own jacket.

Great.

Nothing like marinating in your own alcohol-infused sweat to round out the evening.

"I kind of can't believe we're doing this," you mutter to Jimin, still leaning on him more heavily than you'd like to admit. "Karaoke? With these people? Is this real life?"

"It's definitely happening," he confirms, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Though I'm not sure how much you'll remember tomorrow."

"I'm not that drunk," you protest automatically. "I'm just... celebrating."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't sound convinced.

Across the lobby, Yeji and Jungkook are locked in what appears to be an intense negotiation over room selection, both of them pointing at different options on the laminated menu the hostess is holding. Taehyung stands nearby, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's developing a migraine.

"I'm telling you, the premium room has better song selection," Yeji insists, her voice carrying across the space.

"But the deluxe has the light-up dance floor," Jungkook counters, gesturing emphatically. "It's my birthday, I want the dance floor!"

"The dance floor is tacky!"

"It's not tacky, it's fun!"

"It's the definition of tacky."

"Your face is the definition of tacky."

"Wow, super mature comeback there, birthday boy."

Your eyes drift from their bickering to the quieter presence leaning against the far wall. Yoongi stands slightly apart from the group, scrolling through his phone with the detached air of someone who's physically present but mentally elsewhere.

You notice Jimin's gaze has followed yours. He's studying Yoongi with an intensity that feels almost... private. Like you're witnessing something you shouldn't.

"That's your other roommate, right?" he asks, voice soft.

"Yeah," you nod, head still resting on his shoulder. "Yoongi."

Jimin just smiles, a small, soft thing that doesn't quite reach his eyes. There's something there—a question, maybe, or a thought he's not voicing—but before you can figure it out, Yeji's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

"Y/N! Get over here and settle this!"

You straighten, blinking rapidly as the room spins slightly with the sudden movement.

“What?"

"Premium or deluxe?" she demands, beckoning you impatiently. "Tell this idiot that premium is clearly superior."

Jungkook turns to you, actually pouting like a kid who's been told he can't have a second ice cream cone.

"The deluxe has a light-up floor," he says, as if this is the most compelling argument in the world. "And disco balls."

You look between them, trying to focus through the tequila fog. It shouldn't be this hard to form an opinion about karaoke rooms, and yet.

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up at the absurdity of the situation—Yeji and Jungkook, two of the most stubborn people you know, locked in a standoff over something so utterly trivial.

"Come on, Yeji," you say, rolling your eyes even as you fight back another laugh. "He's the birthday boy. Let him make a choice that matters in his life for once."

Jungkook's indignant "yooo!" is drowned out by Yeji's dramatic sigh.

"Fine," she concedes, throwing up her hands. "But when we get stuck with a shitty song selection, don't come crying to me."

"I'll make it up to you," Jungkook promises, already bouncing with excitement. "You can choose the first song."

"Damn right I will." She huffs, no anger behind it.

Jungkook turns to you, triumph written all over his stupid handsome face. "See? I can be reasona—" He cuts himself off with a yelp as you swat at him playfully.

"Don't push it," you warn, but you're smiling despite yourself.

The hostess, who's been watching this entire exchange with the weary resignation of someone who's seen far too many drunk people argue over karaoke rooms, clears her throat pointedly.

“So... deluxe room? For how many hours?"

"Two," Hobi calls from where he's now organizing a drink order with the rest of the group. "At least!"

"Follow me," she says, gathering menus and leading the way down a dimly lit hallway plastered with even more music posters.

Your odd group trails after her like ducklings, Jungkook practically skipping in excitement. You hang back slightly, still unsteady on your feet, and find yourself walking beside Yoongi, who's finally pocketed his phone.

"You sure about this?" he asks quietly, eyeing you with what might be concern. "You look like you're about ten minutes from passing out."

"I'm fine," you insist, though the hallway is doing that weird tunnel-vision thing that definitely isn't normal. "Just pacing myself."

He snorts, clearly not buying it. "Sure."

"I am," you argue, even as you reach out to steady yourself against the wall. "Totally in control."

"Right." His tone is dry as dust. "That's why you're currently leaning on a poster of Justin Bieber."

You glance over and, sure enough, your hand is planted firmly on young Bieber's face.

You snatch it away with a grimace.

"Ew."

"Exactly." He doesn't say anything else, but he stays close as you make your way down the hall, oddly comforting in its steadiness.

Just like the day at the gynecologist.

The deluxe room, when you finally reach it, lives up to Jungkook's hype—it's large enough to fit your entire group comfortably, with plush seating along the walls, a central space that is indeed illuminated by color-changing floor panels, and not one but two disco balls hanging from the ceiling. The most impressive feature, though, is the giant screen taking up one entire wall, currently displaying the karaoke company's logo bouncing around like an old DVD screensaver.

"This is amazing," Jungkook declares, immediately bouncing onto the dance floor, which lights up green and blue under his feet. "Worth every penny."

"We haven't paid yet," Taehyung reminds him, but he's smiling as he says it.

"Details," Jungkook waves dismissively, spinning in a circle that makes the floor shift colors again. "Come on, everyone pick a song! I want to hear Hobi destroy 'Uptown Funk' again!"

"Bold of you to assume I'd repeat myself," Hobi says, already flipping through the song catalog. "I'm thinking Beyoncé tonight."

"God help us all," Taehyung mutters, but he's already grabbing a microphone.

You sink onto one of the couches, grateful for the chance to sit before your legs give out.

The room is spinning slightly, but in a pleasant way now—like you're on a very slow merry-go-round. From this vantage point, you can watch as everyone settles in, claiming seats and drinks and song choices with the chaotic energy of people determined to have a good time.

Jungkook is still in the center of it all, now trying to convince Yeji to duet with him on some song you can't quite make out over the general noise. She's protesting, but you can tell she'll give in eventually—there's a gleam in her eye that says she's enjoying this more than she's letting on.

The first note of "Don't Stop Believin'" hasn't even finished before Hobi's on his feet, microphone clutched in his hand like it's the Olympic torch and he's the last runner.

What follows can only be described as a religious experience.

The man doesn't just sing—he performs.

Every note, every gesture, every hip thrust (and there are many) executed with the determination of someone who's spent significant time studying the art of karaoke domination.

By the time he hits the chorus, the entire room is on their feet, singing along whether they want to or not.

You find yourself belting out words you didn't even know you remembered, arm slung around Yeji's shoulders as you sway dramatically.

And that's just the beginning.

Taehyung and Jungkook follow with some K-pop song you've never heard but somehow everyone else seems to know the choreography to. Irya delivers a surprisingly powerful Adele ballad that has Yeji staring at her with undisguised adoration. Seth and Ryan butcher ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with the confidence of men who have never been told they can't sing.

Somewhere between your third vodka cranberry and Yeji's unexpectedly heartfelt rendition of ‘Dancing Queen,’ you lose all remaining inhibitions.

Which is how you end up center stage, microphone in hand, challenging Taehyung to an Eminem rap battle that neither of you are remotely qualified for.

"I've got this," you hiss, yanking the mic toward you as the opening beats of ‘Lose Yourself’ start playing. "I've been preparing my whole life. Get ready to get your ass beaten, jerkinci.”

"You've been preparing to embarrass yourself," Taehyung retorts, tugging the microphone back. "I actually know all the words."

"Bullshit. Nobody knows all the words."

The first verse hits and you're both fumbling, words slurring together as you try to keep pace with the rapid-fire lyrics.

You've got maybe every third word right, but what you lack in accuracy you make up for in enthusiasm, half-shouting into the microphone while Taehyung tries to pry it from your grasp.

"His palms are sweaty—"

"—mom's spaghetti—"

"—nervous, but on the surface he looks—"

"—SPAGHETTI!"

You dissolve into laughter at the same time Taehyung does, both of you bent double as the backing track continues without you.

"Draw," Jungkook declares from somewhere to your left. "You both lose. Spectacularly."

"I clearly won," you argue, straightening up with as much dignity as you can muster, which isn't much. "I hit at least four words correctly."

"Wow, four whole words," Taehyung deadpans. "Eminem is shaking."

"He should be," you agree solemnly. "I'm coming for his whole career."

The music shifts to something slower, and you realize you're suddenly very, very thirsty. And maybe a little dizzy.

You hand the microphone to Jimin, who's been quietly watching the disaster unfold with a bemused smile.

"Your turn," you tell him, patting his arm. "Show them how it's done."

He starts to protest, but Irya's already pulling him toward the screen, insisting they do a duet.

You make your way back to the couches, flopping down with more force than intended. The room tilts briefly before righting itself.

"Need a break?" Jungkook asks, appearing beside you with a glass of water.

When did he get water? More importantly, when did he get so considerate?

"Maybe," you admit, accepting the glass. "Thanks."

He studies your face for a moment, and you resist the urge to check if you've got something on it.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom. Don't pass out while I'm gone."

"No promises."

He laughs, the sound warm even over the pulsing music, and then he's gone, weaving through your friends toward the exit.

You take a long sip of water, letting the cool liquid soothe your throat, raw from shouting lyrics and laughing too hard.

Your eyes dance around, noticing Hobi teaching Ryan some dance move on the light-up floor, Yeji and Irya huddled together on one of the couches, heads bent close as they flip through the song catalog, Taehyung now trying to convince Yoongi to join him for something that has Yoongi shaking his head emphatically.

It's... nice. In a chaotic, messy, not-at-all-what-you-planned kind of way.

The couch dips as someone sits beside you. You turn, expecting Yeji or Jimin, and find yourself face to face with Tessa instead.

"Hi!" she says brightly, tucking a strand of perfect auburn hair behind her ear. "Mind if I join you for a minute?"

"Free country," you shrug, shifting slightly to make room even though there's plenty of space.

She smiles, and you can't help noticing how ridiculously pretty she is even in the garish lighting of the karaoke room. No smudged mascara, no frizzy hair, no signs of being several drinks in like the rest of you heathens.

It's annoying.

Pretty people should have the decency to look at least a little disheveled when everyone else does.

“That was quite a performance,” she says, smiling warmly. “I didn’t know you were into rap.”

“I’m not, really,” you admit, taking another sip of water. “I just couldn’t let Taehyung think he’s better than me at something.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuinely amused. “You guys have known each other long?”

“Not really. Just through Jungkook, honestly.”

“Oh!” Her face brightens at the mention of his name. “That’s actually… I was hoping to talk to you about him, if you don’t mind?”

The way her voice lifts hopefully at the end, combined with the slight flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with alcohol, tells you exactly where this conversation is headed.

Great.

Girl talk about your hookup buddy. Exactly what you signed up for tonight.

But there’s something so genuinely nice about her expression that you can’t bring yourself to brush her off.

It’s not her fault Jungkook’s… well, Jungkook.

“What about him?” you ask, though you already know.

“I just… I really like him? And I was wondering if you had any insights, you know, being his roommate and all.”

You should have seen this coming.

Of course the pretty film student would be into Jungkook. Of course she’d want insider information.

Wait.

How the actual fuck does Jungkook pull these types of women?

Like, seriously. This girl looks like she should be dating a 6’4” investment banker with good hair, not your annoying roommate who sometimes forgets to wash his coffee mug for so long it develops its own ecosystem.

The universe is truly unfair.

“I’ve only lived with him for about a month,” you say, because it’s true and also gives you time to process.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “But you must have some impression of him by now, right? Like, what’s he really like? Outside of class and everything?”

You take another long drink of water, considering.

The truth is, you do know things about Jungkook that probably no one in this room knows—like how he bakes sourdough when he can’t sleep, or how he gets oddly protective of Griffin’s food schedule, or the precise sound he makes when he comes.

Which is actually a thought that gives you pause.

If Tessa and Jungkook start dating, that means your arrangement would end.

No more convenient stress relief.

No more really good sex after bad days.

That would kind of suck, honestly. Because whatever else he is, Jungkook is fantastic in bed. The idea of giving that up isn’t particularly appealing.

But on the other hand… aren’t you kind of friends now? Or at least trying to be?

And friends help each other out.

Even if that means letting go of a mutually beneficial sex arrangement.

Besides, look at her. She’s gorgeous, clearly intelligent, and seems genuinely sweet. Jungkook would be a complete idiot to pass that up for occasional hookups with his sarcastic roommate.

She’s still looking at you expectantly, those wide hazel eyes so earnest it’s almost painful.

“He’s…” you start, then sigh. “Look, I don’t really know him that well outside of basic roommate stuff.”

“Oh.” Her face falls slightly.

Dammit.

Why does she have to look like a disappointed puppy?

“But,” you continue, “I can tell you he’s very passionate about film. Like, genuinely passionate, not just doing it because it seems cool.”

Her expression brightens immediately. “I know, right? The way he talks about cinematography is so… I don’t know, refreshing? Like he actually cares about the art of it.”

“And he’s good with his hands,” you add before you can stop yourself, then immediately want to die. “I mean, like, fixing things! He fixed our bathroom sink when it was leaking.”

Nice save, idiot.

“That’s so sweet,” she says, apparently not picking up on your momentary panic. “He seems really thoughtful, you know? Like, in class he’s always offering to help people with their equipment.”

You nod, because that actually tracks with what you’ve seen of him. For all his annoying qualities, Jungkook does seem to genuinely care about helping people sometimes. It’s one of his more redeeming features.

“You really like him, huh?” you ask, though it’s obvious.

She blushes, looking down at her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But it’s cute.”

And it is cute, actually.

She seems genuinely into him, not just physically attracted or playing some kind of game.

It’s surprising that a girl like her would be interested in your dumbass roommate, but weirder things have happened.

“Do you think I have a chance?” she asks, her voice dropping to a near whisper, as if she’s sharing a secret. “I mean, I’ve been trying to drop hints, but I can’t tell if he’s picking up on them or just being nice.”

You glance toward the door where Jungkook disappeared, considering. Because in all honesty, you have no idea what his type is beyond ‘willing and available.’ Your arrangement has never included discussions about who else either of you might be seeing or interested in. For all you know, he could be totally into Tessa.

And really, why wouldn’t he be? She’s gorgeous, smart from what you can tell, and seems genuinely kind.

She’s basically way too good for him, but if she can’t see that, it’s not your job to point it out.

“I think…” you start slowly, turning back to her. “I think you should go for it.”

“Really?” Her whole face lights up, and you find yourself smiling back reflexively.

“Yeah, really.”

You straighten up, suddenly feeling like you’re on more solid ground. This is just basic girl code, after all. Helping a fellow woman navigate the treacherous waters of modern dating, even if the guy in question is your occasional fuck buddy.

Plus, you can be the bigger person here.

Yes, the sex with Jungkook is great, but there will be other guys. Other hot idiots to hook up with. It’s not like he’s the only option in New York City.

“Look, Jungkook’s… an okay guy, I guess? But if you like him, you should definitely let him know. Life’s too short for subtle hints.”

“That’s what Irya said too!” She laughs, reaching out to squeeze your arm gratefully. “Oh my god, thank you. I was so nervous to ask you, because I didn’t know if you two were… you know.”

“Me and Jungkook?” You almost choke on your water. “God, no. Absolutely not. We’re just roommates. Barely even friends, honestly.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Yes, you’ve been sleeping together, but it’s just physical. There are no feelings involved. It’s just convenient, uncomplicated sex—exactly how you like it.

“Oh, good,” she says, relief clear in her voice. “I wasn’t sure, and I’d never want to step on any toes.”

“No toes here,” you assure her, wiggling your feet for emphasis. “Completely toe-free zone.”

She giggles, and you find yourself smiling back. She really is nice, which makes it hard to keep disliking her just for being pretty and put-together.

“So,” you continue, feeling oddly invested now. “What’s your plan? How are you going to let him know you’re interested?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, biting her lip. “I was thinking maybe I could ask him to coffee? To discuss a project or something? But that might be too subtle.”

“Definitely too subtle. Guys are dense as bricks. Trust me.”

“What would you suggest then?”

You tap your chin, thinking. “You should just ask him out directly. No pretense, no ‘let’s discuss this project.’ Just ‘hey, I like you, let’s go on a date.’”

“Oh god,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.”

“Sure you are,” you encourage, surprising yourself with your sudden enthusiasm for this matchmaking endeavor. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous, smart, and frankly, way out of his league. If anything, he should be intimidated by you.”

She peeks through her fingers, looking both flattered and skeptical. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. In fact…” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts. “Give me your number. I’ll help you figure out the perfect approach.”

“Seriously?” She beams, reciting her number as you type it in. “That would be amazing. I’m so glad we got to talk tonight.”

“Me too,” you say, and find that you actually mean it. “And hey, even if things with Jungkook don’t work out, we should hang out sometime. You seem cool.”

“I’d love that!” She looks genuinely delighted, which makes you feel a small pang of guilt for your initial judgment of her based solely on her perfect hair and flawless makeup.

As you finish entering her contact info, you glance around and realize Jungkook still hasn’t returned from the bathroom.

It’s been what, ten minutes? Fifteen? Way too long, even accounting for lines or hand-washing (which, knowing him, is probably not a factor anyway).

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell Tessa, pocketing your phone. “I just want to check that your future boyfriend hasn’t fallen in or something.”

She chuckles at the term but nods, still smiling. “Sure. I’ll save your seat.”

You navigate through the chaos of the room, dodging Hobi’s enthusiastic dance moves and stepping over Taehyung, who’s now sprawled dramatically across the floor reciting what sounds like Shakespeare to a bemused Yeji. The hallway outside is quieter, though the bass from neighboring rooms thrums through the walls.

Where the hell did Jungkook go? The bathrooms are just down the hall, and there’s no way he’d ditch his own birthday celebration.

Maybe he’s answering a call? Or got waylaid by some random person?

Or maybe the idiot got lost on the way back. You wouldn’t put it past him.

With a sigh, you head toward the bathrooms, determined to drag his ass back to the party.

After all, you’ve got a stunning redhead waiting to shoot her shot with him, and you’ll be damned if your sacrifice of great casual sex goes to waste because he can’t find his way back from taking a piss.

You turn the corner, ready to pound on the men's room door and yell at Jungkook for taking forever, when—oh.

He's not alone.

There's a girl. Of course there's a girl. Because when isn't there a girl around Jungkook?

This one's got shiny black hair down to her waist and is wearing what looks like an actual fucking Chanel dress to a karaoke bar.

Who does that?

The kind of person who also wears Louboutins to a place where the floor is permanently sticky with spilled beer, apparently.

But it's not her rich bitch outfit that makes you stop.

It's Jungkook.

He looks... wrong.

He's staring at the floor like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, shoulders hunched forward in a way that makes him seem smaller somehow. His usual swagger is completely gone. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for air, not actually saying anything.

It's weird.

Really fucking weird.

Before you can think better of it, you're walking toward them.

Stupid protective instinct. Stupid tequila. Stupid feet moving without permission.

Jungkook notices you first, his eyes widening in what looks like panic. The girl turns around, giving you a slow once-over that makes you feel like you've been scanned and found wanting.

She's beautiful. Like, unfairly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that probably makes other girls hate her on sight. Perfect skin, dark eyes, delicate features that look more doll-like than human. Her smile is almost too perfect, like it was professionally installed rather than something that grew naturally on her face.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" Her voice is high and sweet, like artificial honey. "I'm so sorry, am I keeping him too long? You must be looking for Kooky."

Kooky? Is she fucking serious right now?

"Can you believe we ran into each other? What are the chances?" She grabs your arm like you're old friends, squeezing with perfectly manicured nails that dig in slightly. "I was just telling him it must be fate. Some connections are just meant to be, right?"

She's acting like you're all at some cute reunion instead of standing in a gross hallway outside a karaoke bathroom. Her perfume is expensive and overwhelming—the kind that probably has a French name and costs more than your rent.

Jungkook clears his throat, still not looking at her. "It's just a coincidence, Mia."

Mia.

The name hits like a slap.

This is her? The ex that sent those texts that made him look like he'd seen a ghost?

Bitch looks like she belongs on a billboard, not stalking her ex in a karaoke bar.

"Oh, you're so skeptical," she laughs, the sound like tiny bells. "Always was. That's what I loved about you though, always keeping me grounded." She turns to you with a conspiratorial smile. "He's the practical one. I'm the dreamer. We balanced each other so well."

She's talking about him like he's not standing right there.

Like he's a character in a story she's telling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name? I'm Mia."

"Y/N," you say flatly. "Jungkook's roommate."

"Roommate! Oh how wonderful," she claps her hands together like you've just announced you've won the lottery. "It's so nice to see Kooky making new friends. He was always so reserved with people he doesn't know well."

She leans in close enough that you can smell her breath—minty with an undercurrent of expensive champagne.

“Trust issues. We worked on it a lot during our time together."

She says it like they were in some kind of therapy program, not… dating.

What the actual fuck?

"I've found him pretty straightforward," you say, stepping closer to Jungkook because something is clearly wrong here.

He's still staring at the floor, still silent, still looking nothing like the annoying, confident asshole you live with.

"Oh, then he must really trust you," Mia says, eyes wide like you've shared some profound revelation. "That's so special. After everything he went through with his father, it's hard for him to let people in."

His father? Since when does Jungkook talk about his family? He's never mentioned a word about his father to you.

Jungkook's head snaps up at this, face gone pale. "Mia, don't—"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She covers her mouth with one hand, looking embarrassed. "Was that not something...? I just assumed since you're roommates..." She turns to you and shrugs apologetically. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. Please forget I said anything."

Right.

Like you're going to forget she just dropped that little bomb.

But now's not the time to dig into whatever daddy issues Jungkook's apparently hiding.

"It's fine," you say, because what else can you say?

"Anyway," she continues, her voice shifting back to that syrupy sweetness, "I was just telling Kooky we should get together sometime. Catch up properly."

She squeezes Jungkook's arm.

“I've missed our little movie nights. Nobody appreciates Park Chan-wook like you do."

Jungkook's still doing his best statue impression, eyes fixed somewhere near the exit sign like he's calculating how fast he can make a break for it.

"We were just getting ready to leave, actually," she says, gesturing down the hall. "I'm here with some friends from Parsons—we have a private room upstairs. You two should join us! We have so much champagne, it's ridiculous. My father just closed another deal in Singapore, so we're celebrating."

Of course her dad makes international business deals. Of course she has a private room upstairs. Of course she's casually drinking champagne while the rest of you slurp tequila from plastic cups.

"I don't think—" Jungkook starts, voice sounding rusty like he's forgotten how to use it.

"It would be so fun!" Mia insists, looking at you now with wide, earnest eyes. "Honestly, any friend of Kooky's is a friend of mine. I've been dying to get to know the people in his life now."

She's laying it on thick, like she's auditioning for the role of Supportive Ex-Girlfriend in some bad rom-com. It's almost impressive how sincere she sounds while being so obviously full of shit.

"We're actually here with a group," you say, firmer this time. "It's Jungkook's birthday."

"Your birthday!" she gasps, turning to Jungkook with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot! I used to be so good with dates."

She steps closer to him, practically pressing against his chest.

"I should have gotten you something. Although I think my presence is gift enough, don't you? Just like old times." She laughs, light and tinkling. "Remember that birthday I planned for you last year? The surprise party at The Standard? Everyone said it was the best night of their lives."

You can practically see her subtext in neon letters above her head: ‘Whatever you losers planned tonight is nothing compared to what I did for him.’

"I don't think he wants to reminisce," you say, surprised by the edge in your own voice. "We should get back."

The bitch’s smile falters for just a second before snapping back into place.

“Oh, I totally get it. You guys have plans. I would never want to intrude on your... celebration."

The way she says ‘celebration’ makes it sound like she's referring to a kindergarten birthday party with paper hats and apple juice.

"We should get your number though, Kooky," she continues, already pulling out her phone. "I changed mine recently. We really should catch up soon. I have so much to tell you."

Jungkook looks like he'd rather eat glass than take her number. His hands are actually shaking slightly—what the hell happened between these two?

"I don't think that's necessary," you say, and without really thinking about it, you link your arm through his.

His skin is cold through his shirt sleeve.

This is the first time his skin’s ever been cold.

He’s usually always a walking furnace—a warm backdrop to your perpetually freezing body.

“Why not? Can’t hurt.” She tilts her head, eyes crinkling in a tight smile.

“Might hurt.”

Mia's eyes flash to where you're touching him, her smile tightening just a fraction.

"Oh, I see," she says, her voice still sweet but with something sharper underneath. "You two are..."

"Friends," you finish firmly. "Good friends."

"How sweet," she says.

She reaches out and straightens Jungkook's collar in a way that feels weirdly intimate.

“You always did need someone to look after you, didn't you, baby?"

She sighs, the sound somehow both theatrical and condescending. You feel Jungkook tense next to you.

What the hell is she talking about?

"Save my number," she says, pressing a small business card—who even carries those anymore?—into his hand. "For when you realize what you're missing. You know where to find me when you want a real connection again."

She leans in and kisses his cheek, holding it a beat too long.

“Happy birthday, Kooky. Try not to have too much fun without me."

She gives you a final look, equal parts pity and dismissal, before sauntering away down the hall, her heels clicking a perfect rhythm against the floor.

Jesus Christ. Is this real life? Did you just witness an actual soap opera villain in action?

The whole thing feels surreal, like you accidentally walked onto a TV set during filming.

"You okay?" you ask Jungkook when she's gone, because what else can you say?

He's still staring after her, jaw tight.

"Fine."

"Bullshit."

He glances at you, momentarily surprised by your bluntness. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I... I think I need some air."

"Yeah, of course."

Not that you really have any other response ready. What are you supposed to say? ‘Sorry your ex is a walking red flag’? ‘Want to talk about whatever the fuck just happened?’ ‘By the way, what was that father line?’

"I'll be back in five," he says, already moving toward the exit sign at the end of the hall. "I just need a minute."

"Okay."

He pauses, glancing back.

“Thanks."

Then he's gone, pushing through the exit door, leaving you standing in the hallway with the lingering scent of expensive perfume and a head full of questions.

What the hell was all that about? And why does he look like he's seen a ghost? And what did she mean about his father?

You shake your head, trying to clear it.

Not your business. Not your problem. You have your own shit to deal with without adding Jungkook's ex drama to the list.

But as you turn to head back to the karaoke room, you can't help glancing toward the exit where he disappeared.

He really did look... small. Scared, almost.

Nothing like the cocky asshole who drives you crazy on a daily basis.

It's disconcerting, seeing him like that. Like peeking behind a curtain you didn't know existed.

You're going to need another drink for this.

It's pathetic, really.

Jungkook knows it. He acknowledges it fully, standing here on the rooftop of some overpriced karaoke joint in the heart of Manhattan, staring down at the tiny flask in his hand.

Not whiskey, not vodka—no, nothing even remotely respectable. Just pure vanilla extract.

Fucking vanilla extract.

He twists off the cap, lifts it to his lips, and takes a small sip. It burns just enough going down to remind him he's alive, but it tastes good.

Always good.

Sweet enough to mask the bitterness that's permanently lodged at the back of his throat these days.

It's not the watered-down shit they sell at grocery stores either—he learned that lesson quickly after one particularly desperate night ended with him gagging over his sink.

No, this is the real deal, the expensive kind he has to order online from some bougie shop in France that probably laughs every time they ship another bottle to New York City.

His therapist side-eyed him when he first confessed this little habit—because who wouldn't? Who the fuck drinks baking ingredients to cope?

But after a few awkward seconds of silence and scribbling notes on her pad (he hates when she does that), she'd shrugged and said it was better than alcohol or pills or whatever else he could be doing instead.

So Jungkook took what he could get.

If vanilla extract keeps him from self-destructing completely, then that's what he'll stick to.

He leans against the rooftop railing, cold metal pressing into his forearms through his thin shirt. Below him, lights blur together into a neon haze—yellow taxis weaving through traffic like fireflies darting between trees. The city beneath him looks both indifferent and alive, while Jungkook feels like he's barely holding it together.

Happy fucking birthday to him.

Birthdays are supposed to mean something. Another year older, wiser, closer to figuring shit out—but Jungkook just feels stuck.

Twenty-something years old and still sneaking away from his own birthday party because seeing Mia had knocked the air out of his lungs in a way that made him feel like a fucking teenager again.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Unable to even form a coherent sentence when she'd looked at him with those eyes—the ones that used to make him feel special until he realized they were just another weapon in her arsenal.

He takes another sip of vanilla extract, savoring the burn this time as it slides down his throat. It's stupidly comforting in a way he can't quite explain—not even to himself.

Maybe it's nostalgia or some childhood memory he's buried deep down beneath layers of emotional baggage and trauma from Mia and everything else he's fucked up along the way.

Or maybe it's just because it's something sweet and simple in a life that's become anything but.

He chuckles bitterly under his breath, shaking his head at himself.

"You're fucking ridiculous," he mutters into the night air.

But ridiculous or not—pathetic or not—it helps.

And right now, that's all that matters.

Twenty minutes. That's how long he's been up here, hiding like a child. Twenty minutes of staring at the skyline and trying to get his shit together. Twenty minutes of letting Mia's voice echo in his head like a bad song he can't turn off.

He closes his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as cool September air fills his lungs.

He can hear muffled laughter drifting up from downstairs—the karaoke room packed with film school friends who've probably noticed his absence by now—and for once tonight, Jungkook doesn't mind being forgotten for a little while longer.

He'll go back eventually; plaster on another easy smile like nothing happened because that's what he does best these days: pretend everything is fine until everyone else believes it.

And then—the icing on the cake.

He mentally claps for himself at that one. Solid joke. A little on the nose, sure, but he'll take it.

You're there.

He doesn't even need to look to know it's you. That faint trace of vanilla that isn't his flask. Not the sharp, concentrated kind that burns his throat and keeps him grounded.

No, you smell like vanilla, but softer. Warmer. Like someone took the edge off and folded it into something human.

There's something else underneath it too—milky, maybe? Creamy? He doesn't know how to describe it without sounding like a complete idiot, so he doesn't try.

It's funny, though.

Hilarious, actually.

Because in the four weeks he's known you, he knows you're anything but soft.

You're mouthy as hell.

Reckless in a way that makes him think you've got some kind of death wish or maybe just a really bad sense of self-preservation.

You talk back every time he opens his mouth, like it's your personal mission to make sure he never gets the last word.

He should find you annoying.

Irritating enough to make him want to jump off this rooftop just to get away from you.

And yeah, sometimes he does—like when you leave your tea bags in the sink instead of throwing them out like a normal person, or when you steal his hoodies and pretend they just ‘ended up’ in your laundry by accident (as if he doesn't know you're lying).

But mostly?

Mostly, you're just...there.

A sudden disruption in his life when he was finally starting to feel okay again. Starting to enjoy the quiet. Heal, or whatever the fuck people call it when they're trying to piece themselves back together after everything's gone to shit.

And then you came along.

All talk back and adrenaline and thrill and sex.

Really good sex.

He shouldn't be thinking about that right now—not here, not with you standing behind him like some kind of ghost haunting his already-fucked-up night—but it's hard not to when everything about you feels like a challenge he can't help but rise to.

The way you smell, the way you look at him like you're daring him to say something stupid just so you can tear him apart for it...it's infuriating.

Addictive too.

He takes another sip from his flask because what else is he supposed to do?

He can feel your eyes on him—sharp and curious, probably trying to figure out why he's up here alone with nothing but a tiny bottle of vanilla extract for company—and suddenly the burn in his throat isn't enough to distract him anymore.

"Didn't know karaoke had a rooftop package," you say eventually.

Jungkook snorts before he can stop himself, shaking his head as he screws the cap back onto his flask.

"Yeah, well," he says, turning around just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. "Figured I'd splurge for my birthday."

Your eyebrows lift at that—just a little—but you don't say anything right away.

"You know they've noticed you're not around, right?" you say after a moment, your tone careful. "People are asking."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Of course they are. Because that's what happens when you disappear for twenty minutes in the middle of your own birthday party.

"You good?" you add, and there's something in your voice that makes him look at you directly. "Because we need you back there."

God, you're annoying. Always so direct, always cutting through his bullshit like it's tissue paper.

He should hate this—hate you—but somehow, Jungkook can't really bring himself to fully mean it.

"How'd you find me?" he asks instead of answering your question.

You shrug. "Just a hunch. Figured if I wanted to escape, I'd go up, not down."

He stares at the city below, the skyline stretching out like a postcard someone forgot to mail. The cars are specks from up here, tiny dots crawling along the veins of Manhattan. It's almost peaceful if he squints hard enough to ignore the noise humming faintly in the background—the kind that never really stops, even at this height.

For a moment, it's quiet. Just him, the skyline, and the faint burn of vanilla still lingering on his tongue.

Then he hears it: your footsteps. Soft, slow, like you're trying not to startle him but also don't care enough to stop yourself from intruding.

Of course you're here.

You stop just short of the railing at first, hovering like you're testing the waters.

Then, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, you step closer and lean against it. Right next to him. Close enough that he can catch another whiff of that vanilla-milky-whatever-the-fuck scent that's been messing with his head all night.

He doesn't look at you. Doesn't have to. He knows exactly what you're doing—trying to see whatever it is he's staring at like it's some big mystery that needs solving.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth despite himself because yeah, this is so you.

Meddling without actually meddling. Curious without outright saying it.

And he doesn't know how he knows that about you, but he does.

So when you finally break the silence with a casual, "What was that?"—your chin jutting toward his jacket pocket—he's not surprised.

"Huh?" He plays dumb, glancing down at his pocket like he has no idea what you're talking about. "Nothing."

Your eyes narrow slightly, and he can feel your gaze boring into him even though he still refuses to meet it.

“Nothing," you repeat flatly, like you don't believe him for a second. "Right."

"Yup." He pops the 'p' for emphasis and turns his attention back to the city below, hoping you'll drop it.

You don't.

"What kind of nothing are we talking about here?" Your tone is light, teasing—but there's an edge of curiosity there too. The kind that tells him you're not going to let this go anytime soon.

"It's just...nothing," he says again, more firmly this time but still avoiding your gaze.

"Uh-huh." You lean in slightly, tilting your head as if that'll give you a better angle on whatever he's hiding. "So nothing just happens to fit perfectly in your jacket pocket?"

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as a low chuckle escapes him despite himself.

“You're relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you say easily, popping the 'p' right back at him. "So? What is it?"

He hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not to tell you the truth.

It's stupid—embarrassing even—but something about the way you're looking at him makes it hard to keep deflecting.

Finally, with a resigned sigh and a slight smirk tugging at his lips, he pulls the flask out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see.

"It's vanilla extract," he says simply.

You blink at him, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Vanilla extract," you repeat slowly, like you're waiting for him to say he's joking.

"Yup."

He unscrews the cap and takes another small sip just to prove his point before screwing it back on and slipping it into his pocket again.

For once, you're speechless—and Jungkook can't help but feel a small sense of victory as he leans back against the railing with a smug grin on his face.

"Happy now?"

The silence stretches a beat too long after his admission. He licks vanilla residue off his bottom lip, the sweetness turning cloying under your stare.

"It's pathetic, I know."

"I mean—it's weird," you say, shrugging. "But not pathetic-weird. Just… niche."

He huffs, drumming his fingers against the railing. "Yeah, who the fuck drinks vanilla extract, huh? Couldn't stick to whiskey like a normal fuckup. Had to be quirky.”

The word drips with self-mockery.

You lean back, arms crossed. "We all have our vices. At least you don't smell like an ashtray."

"You'd kick my ass if I smoked in the apartment."

"Damn right."

The corner of his mouth twitches. Below, a siren wails—distant, unimportant. He watches you watch the city, the neon glow catching on your eyes.

"It's… comforting. Don't know why. Ethanol or whatever—therapist says it's placebo with benefits."

"Placebo with benefits," you repeat, deadpan. "That your band name?"

He snorts. "Nah. Ethanol Enthusiasts."

"Catchy."

Another pause.

The wind tugs at his sleeves, carrying your scent again.

Fuck.

"What started it?" you ask, casual as someone asking about the weather.

His thumb rubs the flask's engraving—a nervous tic he didn't know he had.

“Didn't wanna become my old man. Found this… seemed safer." The admission tastes bitter. He backtracks with a shrug. "Therapist greenlit it. Win-win."

You hum, noncommittal.

“Explains why you're obsessed with vanilla lattes."

"Am not—"

"You are. You side-eye my tea like it's piss."

"Because it is piss. Chamomile's for grandmas."

"Says the guy sipping baking supplies."

He barks a laugh, sharp and surprised. When he turns, you're smirking—that infuriating, I-win smirk that usually makes him want to rile you up.

Now it just feels… warm.

"You smell like vanilla," he says softly.

Your smirk falters. "You've mentioned. Usually when you're—"

"Not then." He cuts you off, voice lower. "All the time. Even when you're not… y'know."

"Y'know?" You raise a brow.

"Fuckin'—wearing shit. Perfume. Whatever." He gestures vaguely at you. "It's just… you."

The words hang, raw and clumsy.

You blink, that sharp mask slipping for a half-second. He watches your throat move as you swallow.

"Huh," you say finally.

"Huh," he mimics, too quick. Deflect. Always deflect. "Maybe you're part cookie. Secretly."

You freeze. Just for a heartbeat.

Then you smirk, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

“Maybe I'm marinating."

"Maybe," he murmurs.

Another siren. Another beep. Another car being way too loud in this fucking city.

"Or maybe you were made just for me."

It slips out. Too raw. Too honest.

Shit.

Jungkook's throat tightens—what the fuck was that?

He licks his lips, grip tightening on the railing as he scrambles to claw the moment back from the edge of whatever that just was.

"I mean—" He forces a scoff, rolling his eyes like he's mocking himself. "—or you're just some undercover therapist plant. Be honest."

He side-eyes you, smirk plastered on.

“You know Dr. Liao, don't you? This is an intervention. 'Let's gaslight Jungkook into emotional vulnerability via mediocre sex and vanilla-scented body wash—'"

You snort, cutting him off. "Mediocre?"

"Painfully average."

"Excuse you?" You open your mouth exaggeratedly, and he can't help but grin at the sheer offense in your expression. "Okay wow, we are never having sex again."

"Cap."

"Are you seriously using online slang in real life?"

"Yeah, because you're capping."

"I am not capping and stop doing that, it's so cringe."

"But you just said capping too?"

"I—that's because you said it first you moron!"

"And you said it second so who's the real moron here?"

"That's it, I'm never wearing vanilla perfume ever again."

He stops abruptly at that. Looks you in the eyes.

"Like you are right now?"

You open your mouth. Close it real fast. Press your lips together.

"Maybe."

"No maybes. I can literally smell it from here."

He tilts his head slowly, letting you move back if that's what you want.

But you don't.

And he takes that as an invitation, his nose hovering over the soft spot under your ear, where you always apply your cologne on.

"Right here." He mutters, voice velvety and rough. "Really makes me wanna fuck you."

You don't move your head, but your hands come to rest on his chest, and he likes that.

Likes that, despite whatever semblance of control you're trying to channel, you're slipping out of balance.

Like you need to hold on to something—on to him.

"I could fuck you here, you know." He continues, pressing his lips against your skin as he angles your bodies just right—your back against the railing, both his arms caging you in. "Right against the railing. Give the locals a nice view."

"You're insane." You say, but it lacks conviction. He knows it does. "Nobody down there could see us from below, this is a skyscraper and we're on the rooftop."

He clicks his tongue, but can't quite hide his amusement.

"Always ruining the fun. Is this your way of saying no?"

You lick your lips. Feel the goosebumps erupt as his lips trail down your neck.

"No."

"Hmm?" He plants another kiss. "So is it your way of saying yes?"

"No."

You repeat; and this time he actually leans back a bit, trying to figure out what you're aiming for.

"It's a ‘maybe when we get home’. We are not fucking in public, Ro, during your birthday, when all your friends are gonna be wondering where we both are."

His eyes don't stray away from yours. Then, he chuckles.

He doesn't know why he chuckles. Doesn't understand what about your commentary he found funny. Perhaps it's your way of being sensitive even when he's goofing around but totally ready to fuck you for real if you so much as ask.

But it feels familiar.

Safe.

No feelings, no depth—just the usual bullshit.

He likes it. Likes how your smirk looks softer now, under the moonlight, eyes crinkling at the corners, and fuck, he needs another sip of vanilla.

But the flask stays buried in his pocket.

And then you say, "c'mon, Rogue. Your fanclub's singing off-key Mariah Carey downstairs."

And he can't help but reply with a "fuck, really?"

"Taehyung's hitting whistle tones. It's apocalyptic."

He groans, pushing off the railing. "Fine. But you're explaining why I'm not drunk."

"Tell them you're a pastry chef now."

"Fuck you."

"When we get home—"

The rooftop door slams open with enough force to make both of you jump apart like startled cats.

Taehyung stands in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild as they scan the space before landing on Jungkook.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes, voice tight with something that sounds suspiciously like genuine panic. "You're up here? On a rooftop?"

Jungkook stiffens beside you, his casual posture vanishing in an instant.

“Tae—"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Taehyung cuts him off, storming across the rooftop with the intensity of a small hurricane.

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Jungkook, who suddenly looks like he wants to melt into the concrete.

"A rooftop? Really?"

You glance between them, completely lost.

There's clearly something happening here that you're not privy to—some subtext that makes this more than just Taehyung being dramatic about Jungkook ditching his own party.

"It's fine," Jungkook says, his voice careful in a way you've never heard before. "I just needed some air."

"Air," Taehyung repeats, like the word tastes bitter. "Sure. Great. Because there's definitely not air anywhere else in this building."

His hands are shaking, you notice. Actually trembling.

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Tae," Jungkook steps forward, reaching for his friend's shoulder, "it's not like that. I swear. I'm okay."

Taehyung's eyes close briefly, his jaw working like he's grinding his teeth. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability there that makes you feel like you're intruding on something intensely private.

"You can't just—" he starts, then stops, inhaling sharply. "You can't disappear and then be on a fucking rooftop, man. Not after—"

He cuts himself off again, shooting another glance your way.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook says quietly, and there's so much weight in those two words that your own chest tightens in response. "I didn't think about it like that. I just needed to get away for a minute, and this was the first place I found."

"Because you needed to get away," Taehyung says flatly, and there's a question buried in there somewhere.

Jungkook hesitates, his eyes darting to you for just a fraction of a second.

"Mia's downstairs. Or was. We ran into her in the hallway."

The change in Taehyung is immediate and alarming. His face drains of color, then flushes with anger so quickly it's like watching a stoplight change.

"Mia's here?" His voice drops to something dangerous and low. "That fucking—where is she? Did she say something to you? What did she do?"

"Nothing. She's gone," Jungkook says quickly, reaching out to grip Taehyung's arm like he's physically restraining him. "She was with some friends in another room. Just bumped into her on the way to the bathroom."

"And said what, exactly?" Taehyung demands, not even trying to hide his hostility now.

"Nothing important," Jungkook insists, though his tight expression suggests otherwise. "Just Mia being Mia. It's fine."

"It's clearly not fine if you're hiding on a rooftop," Taehyung snaps, then immediately looks like he regrets it. His shoulders slump slightly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I was just worried."

"I know," Jungkook says, and there's something so gentle in his tone that you feel like you're witnessing a side of him you've never seen before. "It's okay. I'm okay. Promise."

You shift awkwardly, suddenly very aware that you're intruding on something deeply personal.

“I should, uh, maybe head back downstairs," you offer, already taking a step toward the door.

Two pairs of eyes snap to you, like they'd forgotten you were there.

Jungkook looks caught between relief and something else—regret, maybe?—while Taehyung's expression is blank now.

"No, stay," Jungkook says quickly.

Too quickly.

Then, more casually: "I mean, we were about to head back anyway, right?"

"Right," you agree, though it feels like you're reading from a script you haven't seen before. "Mariah Carey and all that."

"God, they're still on that." Taehyung rolls his eyes, making a visible effort to shake off whatever just happened. "Hobi's been trying to hit the high note in 'Emotions' for like twenty minutes. It's a massacre."

"Can't be worse than your Eminem," you say, hoping to lighten the mood.

It works, sort of. Taehyung's mouth quirks up at one corner.

"Excuse you, I killed that performance."

"Yeah, killed it dead," you agree. "Like, murder. Homicide. Call the rap police."

Jungkook snorts, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Rap police?"

"You know what I mean," you say, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's go save Mariah from Hobi before someone calls actual law enforcement."

As you all move toward the door, you notice Taehyung hanging back just enough to place a hand on Jungkook's shoulder, squeezing once—firm, grounding.

Jungkook nods, a tiny movement you almost miss, and something passes between them again—silent but significant.

But it's not your story to know. Not yet, anyway.

So you lead the way back inside, pretending you didn't notice the way Taehyung's hand shook as it fell back to his side, or the way Jungkook's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he followed you through the door.

Some things are better left unasked. At least for now.

goal: 850 notes because 600 were reached in 2 days, what the heck is wrong with y'all *cries*

next | index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap @jeontae @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex @minniejim @btstrology @vialattea00 @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @mimi1097

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 days ago

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ꨄ︎ AFTER CARE ꨄ︎

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

Masterlist

a/n: by seasons + some aus. Also my first time doing headcanons don’t judge me.

ꨄ︎ S1 Rafe - Rafe was a playboy. A fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. There’s no cuddling, no remembering of any girls names. He’s probably too high to even realize that a girl might want that. If he hooks up with a girl at a party, he’s tossing them a box of tissues from bathroom and heading straight back to the party. If they’re at his house, he’s tossing them a dirty towel from his gym bag, telling them to get dressed and leading them to the door, shutting it before they even have the chance to turn around.

ꨄ︎ S2 Rafe - Rafe would invite them over as a distraction from everything. His dead dad, the pogues, that damn cross. They’ve hooked up before but it was nothing like this time. He was rough and disassociated. When he was done he’d lay with them for a moment before taking off to the bathroom where’d they hear a sniffing sound followed by a slight sob. Then he’d walk them out with a hand on their lower back and tell them he’d call, but he’d probably just call someone else.

ꨄ︎ S3 Rafe - Rafe would be on a new high from cashing in the cross. His mindset was clearer and his brain wasn’t foggy. He’d meet her at the party he threw at Tannyhill. After he’d hold her in his arm and let her spend the night. The next morning they’d wake up and it wouldn’t feel like a burden that needed getting rid of. They would exchange number and they would leave at their own pace.

ꨄ︎ S4 Rafe - Rafe was all in. He adored his girl. He was the boss at work and in bed but the after care was all about her. He’s make sure she was cleaned up and giving a pair of his sweats and a shirt to make sure she was comfortable. They’d lay in bed together and he’d rub circles on her back as she’d get settled in her stomach. They’d stare into each other eyes until one of them drifted off into sleep first.

ꨄ︎ Dilf!Rafe - Rafe worships every part of his wife’s body. The body he fell in love with and birthed their beautiful children. After fucking her hard in every which way, per her request just like they used to before the kids, he’d fly out of bed still naked to set up a warm bath. Heading back to the bed he’d lift her into his arms so she didn’t have to walk on unsteady legs and he’d set her in the tub and slide in behind her.

ꨄ︎ Stepbro!Rafe - Rafe got her to cave again. He loved it, she secretly loved it, but she was terrified of anyone finding out and he loved to mess with her about it. He’d her in, her head on his chest, while he brushed his hands through her hair. “Y’know I love what’s going on between us so much, I could run downstairs and tell our parents right now, because I’m so proud.” He’d smile when he’d feel her breathing speed up at the thought. “Don’t worry Angel, I won’t…yet.”

ꨄ︎ Rafe with Pogue!Reader - In the heat of the moment caused by drunken flirtations all night Rafe and Pogue!Reader ended up sleeping together. They stared at the ceiling breathless, slightly laughing at what just happened. It was incredible but they’d never admit it. His hand would meet her wrist rubbing soft circles into it. Rushing out once reality set in because it was a mistake and his reputation could be on the line of that ever got out. “Keep your god damn mouth shut about this.”

ꨄ︎ Rafe with Pogue!Reader - OR he actually likes her. He found comfort in her. Aftercare with her was completely different to anything he’s ever done before. They’d take turns soothing each other. Creating a calm moment in a storm that would brew up from their secret affair. “I wish things could be different.”

ꨄ︎ Boynextdoor!Rafe - Rafe had watched her for the longest time. To finally be invited over and have all of her was a dream come true. He got his chance and he didn’t want it to end. He’d help her up and over to her bathroom, and offer to order food while she’d shower. He’d remake her bed and fluff up pillows setting up their food and putting a movie on. Comforting her for the rest of the night.

an: I love how you can see the progression Rafe goes through in the season. It’s slowly them and him not caring to her being his whole world. I need.

Tags - @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell - @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @writingroom21 @maybankslover @rafeysvenicebitch

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daryltwdixon · 2 days ago

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𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥

Bitch!!! I ain’t even a series girl and there’s multiple in here!!! Who is she!!! And look at me tagging a fluff fic!! Turning a new leaf round here. If you see something you like please let these wonderful authors know by showing them some much deserved love Sorry this is late! I was traveling and literally haven’t touched my laptop in days

Bicep biting by @tinysunshine

Daryl Dixon x you one shot summary: you kiss daryl’s arms and have to explain what cuteness aggression is after you bite his bicep ♡ my thoughts: I feel like woodchuck todd from easy a when he’s gobblin’ on that wood log LET ME GET A BITE OF THAT BEEFY ARM, DIXON

literally anything by @cavillscurls

(bitch I’m such a fan we got a whole damn list to get thru)

daddy next door

joel miller x you ongoing series summary: It’s summer in Texas, and when the dashing Joel Miller moves in next door, your less than favorable life gets completely turned around. my thoughts: ohhhhh my heart. such a different version of joel than im used to (rich & fancy) but it really hits the spot. cute romance and I see you in so much of this!!!

ass man

joel miller x you drabble summary: joel miller is an ass man my thoughts: what I wouldn’t do for this man to put his hands all over my best ass(et). Mya showed me this after I went off about joel in fact being an ass man and I was eternally horny grateful

Inescapable 🕊️

clint (freaky tales) x you one shot summary: Clint always gets what he wants—this time, you’re going to give it to him. my thoughts: YES SIR YES SIRRRYYYYYYYY mya has already heard all my praise but we’re gonna say it again holy SHIT Clint smiling into my neck as he puts a baby in me?!?! SIR MAAM YES PLEASEEEEE this has been a fave trope of mine lately. Captive reader who used to scream and beg for him not to touch now loving every second of it sorry bit dark it’s giving “run” vibes which was rec’d on last month’s list!!! And that shit is one of my faves so I knew this would tickle my pickle in the same way. I wish I could be eloquent about this shit but my GOD it’s so good trust.

Joel in glasses by @mushgloomz

peepaw!joel x you drabble summary: what the title says my thoughts: I’ll just put this here and you tell ME you don’t feel some type of way: “ain’t i old enough to be your daddy, darlin’?”

of rage and ruin 🕊️ by @corazondebeskar-reads

werewolf/alpha!joel x you ongoing series summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though. my thoughts: no no no you don’t understand. You don’t GET IT. Is this omegaverse? Yep. I’ve been dabbling. And the others just don’t do it like you do baby 😭 I read this way too fast and now I just wait for the updates but holy shit. No one puts my baby in a shock collar 😭😭😭😭

Idle Threats by @pearlessance

jackson!joel x you series summary: Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for. my thoughts: I’m so glad I didn’t post this fic rec on time because holy mother of god. I blew through this so quickly because of how fucking beautiful the writing is. Joel Miller feeling dirty about liking a younger woman? Check. Religious themes denouncing god for his one and only girl? Check. I’m sorry I’m so sorry I don’t usually add this but some of this dialogue is 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 “Because if anyone but me ever called you a slut an’ I heard about it?” He presses your clit harder, grinning when you start panting. “I’d have to kill ‘em, baby.” .....Like W H A A A A A a a a aaaa 😵‍💫😵‍💫

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acorn-squash-writes · 1 day ago

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[Image description:

Gif from a Batman cartoon: Bruce opens the door of a luxury car and gestures to a group of five to get in. Subtitles: Bruce Wayne. If you need a job, I think I can help.

Another gif, same cartoon: Someone bald, wearing a suit, is sorting through some papers, throws them aside in surprise, and shakes Bruce’s hand.

Another gif, same cartoon: A very muscular character in a torn suit walks into a room and is shocked to see someone sleeping in a hospital bed with a redheaded person sitting on a chair nearby.

Comics: Batman is shielding Joker from Punisher, who’s approaching with one fist raised and the other on his gun.

Punisher: How many times have you put this maniac away? I can end it right here and now.

Batman: Joker?

Joker: Yes?

Batman: Run.

Closeup on the Joker’s face.

Joker: Huh?

Off-panel character: Run for your life.

The final panel is Batman, still costumed, with his thigh exposed. In the background, someone runs away.

Comics: Bruce and Robin hold up a novelty check.

Bruce: --This certified check for $4,999.99!

Photographer: Smile big for the camera, Mr. Wayne.

A gif (still the same cartoon, I think): Harlequin says, to Batman, “There’s one thing I gotta know. Why did you stay with me all day risking your butt for someone who’s never given you anything but trouble?”

Comics: A shadowy hand, dripping bright fluid, shows a Wayne Tech business card to a person wearing heavy makeup. The person with the card says, “I hear these people are hiring reception girls. Don’t let me see you on the streets after tonight.”

Comics:

Batman, panel 1: It doesn’t have to end like that. I don’t know what it was that bent your life out of shape, but who knows?

Maybe I’ve been there too.

Maybe I can help.

Panel 2, Batman, off-panel, continues talking to the Joker: We could work together. I could rehabilitate you. You needn’t be out there on the edge any more. You needn’t be alone.

We don’t have to kill each other.

What do you say?

Comics: Batman stands in a cage near a young child sitting on the floor. He says, “I’m stepping a little closer now, okay? You were so brave. You made it through everything all by yourself. And tonight, you got yourself free where we could find you. That took a lot of strength.”

Comics: A masked villain, spinning a chain in one hand, approaches Batman, saying, “I’ve seen how you treat your prisoners. Forgotten and scared. Can it be you actually care for those creatures?”

Comics:

A masked person in a purple hooded cloak: You told me you had a whole new way of helping Gotham. Something different than the path Batman offered.

Someone in a red outfit whose face and hair seem to be made of gold: Would Batman have had you steal those Epipens and deliver them to the people who need them most?

Purple: Literally, yes. Like, every week. How did you think I knew how to bust into Penguin’s narcotics warehouse?

How come every time I try to do this different than Batman, I just end up doing exactly what Batman would do?

Comics: Bruce says, “I have no interest in not caring about people. I have no interest in giving up the mission I started when I was eight years old. You’re sick. There’s a part of you that’s broken and you’re angry that it’s not broken in me.”

End image description.]

Does anyone know which issue the second-to-last comics panel came from? I’d like to read it.

Also, I didn’t do a great job identifying characters. Feel free to copy this and edit it into something more useful.

why does anyone in Gotham even bother doing crime like you KNOW the second you leave the bank with the money you just stole Bruce Wayne is gonna be chilling on a bench on the other side of the street in his bat fursuit like “hey bitch u better not be breaking the law”

#batman #described #described comic #described gifs #gifs

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dumbkiri · 11 hours ago

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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 8

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: everything in Xaden's POV

19 pgs, 6.3k words

FIRST MATING BOND INCIDENT

“This is a mistake. I don’t want this. You don’t. It’s their mating bond.”

Gods, this was a huge misunderstanding. I wanted to clear my head of all the possibilities, all the ends on how I could finish my time here at this college. To catch a cold breath of fresh air, admiring the moon that reminded me so much of her; [Name] Mairi.

But not everything goes according to plan, Violet always throws something at me. This time it’s the bond between our dragons making her crave me. Want me in a way I wanted [Name].

“How can you ignore it? Tairn’s feelings are so strong and-”

“Close him out,” I say with my hands holding Violet away from me. The marks on my neck burned with her desire. It begged for the cool kisses that [Name] gives, her soft lips that made every worry disappear. “I cannot do this with you. I am your wingleader and [Name]-”

Violet pushed herself forward into my chest, her eyes staring deeply into my own. And with a seductive whisper she says, “Don’t talk about another girl when I stand here wanting you. Needing you.”

She doesn’t know that [Name] would kick her ass. That the woman I’ve been pinning after for years is capable of such ferocity. Violet hasn’t gotten the chance to meet my deadly partner. For good measure too. After Imogen and the others displayed how much they wanted to kill Lilith Sorrengail’s daughter, I tried to keep Violet away from [Name].

Not that she kills without reason.

If the others could express how much they hated Violet in a matter of seconds, [Name] would have no problem actually killing the youngest Sorrengail. She valued family. A Sorrengail could be the very threat that she will need to eliminate in order to protect them.

However I couldn’t allow it, not after the favor I owe to Lilith Sorrengail.

When Violet’s lips touched my neck again, my body shivered in repulsion, but Sgaeyl’s pleasure for her mate reached me. I can’t do this. Let a mating bond between dragons get between my partner and I. Some will say it would be fine because we weren’t exclusive. But fuck them.

She’s my cloak of shadows. And as sappy as it is, she’s my one and only love. [Name] Mairi will be mine and I will be hers.

If [Name] found out about this, she would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself for doing this to her. I need to stop this before it goes even further. I raised my shields up and made up my mind.

Violet wrapped her slender arms around my neck and tugged me down towards her. Our faces were inches apart and when she closed her eyes, leaning in I pushed her away. I must have pushed her hard because she stumbled back with surprise written all over her face.

“You should have let me finish,” I scowled, rubbing the marks she left on my neck with disgust, “[Name] Mairi is her name and you will remember it. Now go to bed, Cadet Sorrengail. That’s an order.”

……

It’s after hours and I lay in my bed staring at my ceiling with endless thoughts running amuck. Memories tormenting me for good reason. The guilt and the shame ate away at me as she slept for months.

I don’t know how many times I’ve fucked up this year. From ignoring [Name] because of the incident with Violet, for removing all of her friends from her so they could focus on protecting Violet, to blaming her for the unbonded incident, to almost everything that has gone wrong this year.

Blaming [Name] tore me down for quite awhile. I wished Imogen would erase my memories of me pinning it onto [Name] because even thinking back to it made me pissed at myself.

…

UNBONDED INCIDENT

[Name] wouldn’t do this.

“I-I saw a shimmer,” Violet repeated, her eyes focused on the floor in thought. She tried her best to remember who else was here. To remember who let the unbonded riders into her room. She looked up from the floor to lock eyes with my own, her mouth moving with a truth I couldn’t believe in.

“Liam described her cloak before, but why?” Violet questioned, almost hysterical, “Why would his sister let unbonded riders into my room if it puts you in danger? Xaden, what the hell is going on? I didn’t do anything to her.”

Say it isn’t so.

“She wouldn’t. I know her.” I snapped.

Yet I knew Violet had no reason to lie. She was telling the truth.

“Get Liam in here and have him watch over her this time.”

The demand left my mouth with a seething rage and Bodhi was the first to act. He left Violet’s room while Garrick stood behind me with his arms crossed. We were both stunned by the information Violet gave us.

Violet is telling us that she saw [Name]’s cloak. How can we process this information in the right amount of time? It’s fucking impossible when Violet sits in front of me trembling, eyes blown wide in fear. I need to react in a timely manner.

“Garrick, when Bodhi comes back,” I stand with my hands clenched up, “Go wake Imogen and meet me at [Name]’s room. I need her to open her door.”

“Xaden, you don’t really think-”

“I don’t know what to think!” I snapped like a dragon does when it’s annoyed, pissed off, “All I know is that Violet isn’t lying. We need to see if [Name]’s in her room. Meet me there.”

I walk briskly to [Name]’s room trying to think rationally. But Violet’s fear drowned me. Her accusing words clouded my mind. I can’t think clearly. The shadows in the night reacted to my emotions, flicking with madness.

The earlier events of us barging into her room uninvited flashed behind my eyes. [Name] almost killed Violet with her kunai aimed directly at her head. Could it be that she tried to finish the job?

Did [Name] do this out of spite? Jealousy? To get out of training Violet? Or to return to normalcy when Violet didn’t exist. After all, we were a lot happier before she arrived. Before my favor to Lilith Sorrengail drove a wedge between us.

“Xaden, what is going on?”

Imogen’s voice snapped me back to reality and I stopped pacing, not realizing I started when I began to think of all the possibilities, all the motives for [Name] to kill Violet.

“Open it now.”

No hesitation this time, Imogen opened the door and we all took a peek inside to find it empty. [Name]’s bed was made, my shirts still hanging over her chair, and her kunais laid out on her desk. She wasn’t here which means she did go on a flight with Lenin.

Sgaeyl.

Imogen pulled me into [Name]’s room the moment I reached out to my dragon. I paid little attention to what she had to say. All I wanted was to speak to my dragon, to know if she was with [Name].

“Are you with [Name] right now?”

Immediately, Sgaeyl reached back out, “I told you that I was going to fly with or without you. I made my decision, Shadow.”

“Meet me in the flight field,” I turned away from my family, “I need to speak with her.”

“Where are you going?” Garrick asked.

Rounding the corner, I said with a clipped tone, “To the flight field.”

“Watch how you approach us,” Sgaeyl warned with her snout pressed against [Name]’s palm, but her first warning flew past me like the leaves of the trees that fell under the pressure of their beating wings.

“Back the hell away from Sgaeyl!”

[Name] quickly turned away from my blue dragon with wide eyes. She pulled her hand away with confusion and embarrassment on her face. The more I looked at her, in her stupified state, told me that I should calm down. But all I felt in this moment was the betrayal.

Did she really want me dead? Did she want her own dragon mourning his parents for the jealousy she had aimed at Violet?

How could she do this?

“Violet was attacked, Sgaeyl. Your mate could have died, we could have died!”

In a second, Sgaeyl relayed the information to Lenin and the midnight blue dragon leaned his head down. The way his neck slithered downward to hide [Name] from me proved to me that I really did need to calm down. I’m threatening his rider with an accusation so damaging.

To her. To me. To us.

“You are agitating, Lenin,” This time, I listened to Sgaeyl’s warning and stopped my march towards [Name] being protected by her large dragon. I wouldn’t dare to impose on his territory, even if Sgaeyl would stop her son from frying me.

Starting with a calm anger, I asked her the question. Without even thinking of the consequences that would follow it.

“Did you let unbonded riders in Violet’s room?”

A moment of silence passed between us. Only the sound of her dragon breathing through his flared nostrils became my source of grounding. Then I heard her scoff.

Scoffing at my stupid question. Because yeah, in hindsight, it was stupid. Then she walked around Lenin’s neck, making her way over to me with a heated glare. A flicker of lilac in her blue eyes.

“You seriously asking me that question? Why would I let unbonded riders into her room? The only way they can bond to Tairn is if she dies, but newsflash Xaden, Tairn and Sgaeyl will die if she does!”

Tairn and Sgaeyl will die. She didn’t even mention me.

With a growl, I took a step closer to her, “She said that one got away and that they left with a shimmer, only your cloak shimmers.”

Suddenly, my anger and hurt was too much to contain. I grabbed her by the shoulders, digging my nails into her uniform. The words tha left my mouth were harsh, stupid, and I wish I could have taken them back because the look on her face was worse than the heartbreak.

The look on her face didn’t stop me from saying,

“Don’t tell me that your jealousy got the best of you that you had to kill Violet. Tell me you aren’t that petty to kill her, us, or me!”

The silence was longer than the previous and the look on her face. Fuck. It tore me apart. She relaxed in my hold, her once tense muscles lacking in the usual strength. Her usual determination faltered all because of me.

“My cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore, Xaden.”

Dejected. Broken. Defeated.

I just made the woman I’m in love with break in my hands. I shattered her into a million pieces because of this accusation. Because I’m fucking stupid enough to question her power, her loyalty to me.

[Name] wasn’t done with me.

“I may be jealous of her, but I’m not the one who broke a promise. I may hate her for stealing my friends and family, but I wouldn’t kill her out of spite. I just told you yesterday that I was willing to put my differences aside and train her.”

“Then why did she describe your cloak?” I pulled my hands away that yearned to comfort her. I couldn’t provide her that after I just blamed her for something so horrible.

“I don’t know, but I was flying out with Sgaeyl and Lenin. They can vouch for me, we’ve been flying out for hours.”

“It’s true, we were gone long before the girl was attacked,” Sgaeyl confirmed.

Now it was my turn for my heart to shatter. For my mind to clear away the guck.

“I hope you find the true culprit,” Her passing words made goosebumps rise on my arms. [Name] spoke with no ill-intention, she really did want me to find the one who actually let the unbonded in Violet’s room.

I have to stop her. To get to the bottom of it. No one knows how to cloak besides her. She’s the only one with that ability. And I wanted to apologize after the haze of my anger washed away.

“[Name], where are you going? I’m not done asking questions.” I turned around swiftly, not daring to take that step because she made up her mind.

“I’m going to forget this conversation ever happened.”

And we both know only one person can help her with that. So I let her go.

I am an asshole. I am reminded every time when Imogen glares at me from tables away while [Name] talks her ears off about their classes. I do my best to act like nothing bothers me as usual, but Garrick shakes his head with a sigh.

“Have you tried having a conversation with [Name]?”

I scoffed and said, “After the last one? No. With her guard dog right next to her? Hell no. Imogen will bite before I can get a word in.”

This earned a chuckle from Garrick and he took a few bites of his food. Then he swallowed and gestured over to Violet’s table, “Well at least Violet and her friends are excited to see [Name] fight. Liam has been hyping up his sister ever since she accepted to train Violet.”

“[Name] is a phenomenal fighter, she deserves the praise leaving Liam’s mouth,” I say not removing my eyes away from Imogen’s glare.

“You don’t need to remind me. My head is still spinning from last year.”

Yeah, we all remember that day clearly. It was when the bet started. Bodhi teased and teased the girls doing his usual trolling to catch them off guard before challenges. [Name] took the bait and the two of them created something so humiliating for both sides.

The boys will have to bark in surrender. And the girls will have to meow.

[Name] and Imogen versus Bodhi, Garrick and myself. The girls obviously had a disadvantage considering it was a 2v3 situation, but they are annoyingly stubborn. Calling us misogynistic for doubting the fairness of it, but Bodhi countered by saying he loves women very much, all power to them.

And surprisingly, [Name] gave herself and Imogen a point that day by making Garrick surrender. She landed the most lethal kick to his head that if it weren’t for his reaction to blocking it, I’m pretty sure Garrick wouldn’t be sitting across from me.

She made him fall flat into the mat, a line of saliva leaving past his lips. Then she gasped out loud, shaking him by his shoulders begging for him to bark.

“Garrick, no!” [Name] whined, “You have to bark! Bark, dammit!”

[Name] was lucky Garrick woke up, listening to her demands in his daze, giving her and Imogen the smallest ‘woof’ known to mankind. Like a little puppy. Which gave the girls all the teasing power to call us “Little Bodhi” or “Little Garrick” to patronize us. Luckily for me or them, I hadn’t been able to challenge them.

“What happened on the flight field?” Garrick finally asked and I pushed my plate away. Appetite gone.

The look on [Name]’s face flashed behind my eyes. Devastation. Heartbreak. Tired.

“I broke her heart.”

“Then go fix it,” Garrick slammed his drink down after chugging it.

Yeah, if only it were that easy.

…

TRAINING VIOLET

“Whatever you do, don’t throw your daggers,” I warned Violet, my eyes on [Name] holding her purple kunai in her grip.

“It’s called a surprise attack.”

I can feel Violet rolling her eyes without even looking at her. Fine, if she wants to deal with a pissed teacher, so be it.

“I warned you.”

Violet let the daggers in her hand fly towards [Name] with a swiftness I almost admired. Yet [Name] deflected them with her kunai with an ease that left everyone gawking. At least the ones that didn’t know her.

[Name] picked up Violet’s daggers and expressed how Violet should never toss her only defense away. She had a very good point. Because Violet was nothing without them.

“I have ten more!”

Well, I know Violet is really testing [Name]’s patience because she turned away from the Sorrengail. Her blue eyes moved to Lenin’s chest and she turned back around with a heavy sigh, throwing a threat at Violet before readying up.

The practice began and I watched [Name], not even focusing on the incorrect swinging stance Violet demonstrated. When watching [Name] fight, I swear my heart races at the lethality she possessed. She moved like water, freely and flowing.

She explained to Violet how the move she used could help with opponents slightly bigger than her, but not as big as Garrick or Jack Barlowe. Then I watched a figure in the dark make his way over to Violet and [Name]. My eyes squinted to catch a hint of their conversation or his intention.

Bodhi and [Name] talked to each other like they’ve been attached at the hip. When Violet joined the observer side, I crossed my arms over my chest and watched the two on the mat with scrutiny.

Is this some kind of joke?

“I mean this in the nicest way, but Violet, you do not make fighting look this hot.” When one of Violet’s friends spoke up with enamor, my body tensed up. I know all about how damn sexy [Name] is when she fights. It’s because she’s confident, strong and beautiful. [Name] knows it too. I used to tell her every time I saw her fight someone on the mat.

What I didn’t anticipate in the sparring between Bodhi and [Name] was the squeak she let out in surprise. There’s rarely a chance she gets caught off guard, very slim. But Bodhi caught her kick in his hand with this stupid smirk on his face.

Then he threw her off balance, her back meeting the mat him following after her to keep her pinned.

“You little minx.”

What the hell did he just call her? I’m not the only one uncomfortable with the display Bodhi was putting on because Liam shifted in his spot. Then Bodhi pressed himself further into her and I had enough. Stalking my way to them, I know Bodhi sensed my jealousy because [Name] reacted to his loosened up grip on her leg. She captured him in a headlock and they both bantered back and forth.

Bodhi’s hands moved up her thighs, his fingers dancing their way up to her sides and I walked a bit faster to stop this display of affection. I hated when someone else put their hands on [Name] like this. Oh, the way I wanted to be in Bodhi’s position right now.

“Focus, Shadow,” Sgaeyl instructed.

“You two done?” I cut in, more like I budged my way into the conversation acting like I wasn’t stupidly jealous of what's going on. Bodhi didn’t say anything while [Name] ignored my gaze, but she did tell me what Bodhi needed to do in order to get out of her death grip.

Bark. Of course.

I gritted my teeth, rolling my eyes at how I fell into this trap. This stupid bet between us was a trap and I will not recover from how she played me like some lovesick fool. I am, but the observers know that now.

I walked back to the group and told Violet all she needed to know and learn from [Name]. I even had to explain the bet when Bodhi barked and some idiot with a dumb grin on his face spoke up.

“Hey, [Name]! I can make your kitty purr.”

Another trap laid out in the open and again, for her, I fell into it.

“Try making me bark first.” The growl in my throat bubbled up yet dissipated when she laughed. Right, she had a beautiful laugh too. Light. Airy. Music to my ears.

Did you forget that your sister has feelings too?

Imogen’s question to Liam made my heart squeeze in regret. I really need to fix hers like Garrick told me to. I can’t keep her in the shadows for so long. Then for some reason, Lenin began roaring, loud…this is the loudest I’ve heard him.

“Tell Violet she doesn’t know about the unbonded. Lenin will not accept her apology.” Sgaeyl’s voice penetrated my head while her son kept up with the deafening sound. I told Violet, telling her that it was in the best interest for everyone that [Name] doesn’t know this.

When Violet gave me a subtle nod, Lenin stopped roaring and pulled his head back with a snarl. Much like the one Tairn gave to [Name] earlier before she fought Violet.

“So do we run now?” Liam questioned and right when I came up with instructions, [Name] demanded that no one say a word. Removing Bodhi from the group and cloaking everything. The dragons, the mat, all of us besides Tairn, Sgaeyl, Lenin, Bodhi and herself.

I realized how much she could do.

“Really, you two again?” Professor Kaori slumped with a shake of his head, but his words insinuated something.

Something that made my hands clench up.

“Ah, Professor Kaori!” Her blue eyes dazzled in the light, “Sorry for the wakeup call. You know Lenin was just arguing with his parents like usual.”

“You think I’m going to fall for that a second time?”

A second time? So Professor Kaori has seen Bodhi with [Name] outside two times. She wasn’t going to give up this defense, it was the only one that would work for her right now. Especially with Tairn and Sgaeyl by Lenin’s side.

However, I could not move on from what the insinuation meant. Bodhi and [Name], alone and caught in some act by Professor Kaori.

“Damn, it’s so cold,” The female friend of Violet spoke up and Professor Kaori perked up in confusion. I sent a glare at Violet and she in turn shrugged her shoulders. Not knowing what to do. Everyone was holding themselves with their arms, their heavy breaths seen underneath.

I hadn’t noticed the coldness of [Name]’s cloak like everyone else. I’m guessing it gets colder the more she covers.

With Kaori’s sigh, he said, “You have a great signet, Mairi. You should expand on it more than hiding your escapades with Durran here. I’m growing tired of seeing you two by the way.”

Escapades with Bodhi. Tired of seeing them together. I see how it is now. [Name] has been hanging out with Bodhi more often. My own cousin is getting closer to the woman I love. He’s willing to lose his balls all for some petty revenge.

“You cannot blame her for that. I will say your jealousy is ugly, Shadow,” Sgaeyl chimed in.

It didn’t help that Bodhi grabbed her with careful hands and a charming smile leaving the flight field with Kaori’s warning. When the three of them left the field, that is when the cloak fell, nonexistent.

“Hey, Wingleader, I think your cousin just took your girl.”

This guy’s voice was getting on my last nerve. Not even the mumbles of his friends telling him to shut up helped. All I can think about is [Name]’s smile and the reason for it. I didn’t make her smile. I haven’t in a long time.

Bodhi is the reason for that pretty smile on her face.

“Get some rest and don’t forget to bring the mat in.” I walked away from the group ignoring the suspicious mutters about the relationship between Bodhi and [Name].

…

AFTER RSC

“[Name] told Dain about her signet.” Imogen sat next to Bodhi at the table.

Unbothered, I ate my food.

“Hello~” Imogen waved her hand in front of my face and I sighed, “So what?”

Imogen looked at Bodhi then to Garrick for an answer, but they were stumped as much as she was. “Am I the only one worried for her? For us?”

“Aetos won’t be able to do anything,” I say with certainty.

“How can you know that? If he tells his dad which he will then-”

“She will be able to put her shields up, Imogen,” I interrupted. I really don’t have the energy to argue right now. My head is killing me. “[Name] is capable of protecting herself. Nothing will be shown to Aetos. Nothing.”

“Okay,” Imogen breathed, defeated and slumped shoulders.

…

VISION INCIDENT

Her skin felt ice cold. Her chest stopped moving. Random items in her room swirled around the four of us. Bodhi and Imogen’s frantic words died out in the background. Asking me what we should do.

I tried performing chest compressions on her the first five minutes. It didn’t work. So I sat beside her and grabbed her cold hand. With my other hand, I caressed her cheek pulling myself closer to her.

“Breathe.” I begged her. I tightened my grip on her hand, counting the minutes that went by in agony.

“Take the first breath, you can do it.” I can feel the burning in my eyes.

I trailed my thumb from her cheek down toward her throat, “Breathe, [Name].”

When she shot up in her bed taking that well needed breath, I removed myself from her in an instance caught off by her speed. The whirlpool of objects immediately fell and [Name] looked at us with confusion then she burst into heavy tears. Sobs wracking her body.

“I died.”

I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. She fell apart right in front of me and because I didn’t fix her heart before, I will be here to hold her together. I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled her to me. Her chest rose and fell with those breaths and I felt extremely relieved. Grateful that her lungs inhaled and exhaled.

“You’re here, [Name],” I whisper in her ear, my lips brushing the strands of her hair, “and I’m here with you.”

Faithfully, I promised. Although I know the message didn’t get to her. The unease of being in my arms, the confusion that clouded her mind.

While I held her, her tears dampened my shirt and I could care less. Because these tears allowed me to squeeze her more into me. To feel her warmth and to speak to my dragon with a clear mind.

I dropped my hands to her waist and slightly pulled away from her, ignoring the burning behind my eyes. “[Name], you need to let Lenin know that you’re okay.”

She looked at me with her blue eyes crying endless tears, “W-what do you mean?”

I lifted a slow hand and brushed the hair from her face, staring into those ocean blue eyes, “You closed the bond off to Lenin. He needs you to reach out.”

“But I…” She closed her eyes and already I’m missing them. Her beautiful blues. Her shoulders dropped in relaxation as she made the connection with Lenin. Many times I am grateful for her dragon, for Sgaeyl’s son.

After all, this creature is her best friend. They made a bond to talk about for centuries. I knew the moment she talked about her presentation that Lenin wanted her. Sgaeyl told me so. That her son found his rider, a woman with blue eyes and [h.color] hair.

Sgaeyl described Lenin’s happiness, that he chuffed about how strong [Name] was. Something powerful laid dormant in her soul and he wanted to be the one to bond to her, to be hers.

When she opened her eyes, to come back to me, I stared at her with no words spoken. [Name] broke the ice and smiled at me. If she knew about the unbonded incident, we wouldn't be sitting here. She wouldn’t be in my arms.

“Thank you for waking me up.”

She said, what? Her lips moved with sincerity, her smile still present.

“You heard me?” I drew my eyes back into hers.

“Unless it was someone else praying that I take a breath then yes. I heard your voice so clearly telling me to breathe. Probably explains the surreal moment in my dream.”

“Hopefully.” I said, holding back the information that she wasn’t breathing for nine whole minutes. Minutes I spent praying like she said for her to breathe. I looked down at my hands finding comfort on her waist and resisted the urge to bring her closer to me.

I’ve done enough. I wouldn’t want to make her uneasy.

I forced myself to step away from her. To join Imogen and Bodhi off to the sideline. I will need to talk to them and have this kept between the three of us. No one needs to know what happened here.

“I need to tell you guys what happened.”

As much as I didn’t want to know, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t say a word. Imogen was the first to protest, telling [Name] that she wasn’t breathing for minutes. Now the cat’s out of the bag. So much for wanting to be kept to us.

Bodhi agreed with Imogen and I wanted to say that we can talk about it after some rest. We could meet in secret, but the determined look in her eyes swayed me. I looked at her sitting upright in her bed, her hands fisting her blankets in a tight grip.

“I would like to know what happened with Dagger,” Sgaeyl’s said.

“We will.” I say back with confidence.

“Whatever you may feel, it happened and I need to get this off my shoulders. It hurts to think of what I saw, what I felt and what my last thoughts were.”

“I’m willing to listen for the three of us. Let them leave without knowing this information. It will distract them.” I say with reason for Bodhi and Imogen to leave the room. Then [Name] spoke of her dream and I couldn’t help, but fear for her life.

Falling. She dreamed of the moon. She dreamt of Lenin crying out to her. A sudden urge to protect her came from Sgaeyl and she said, “Nothing will happen to Dagger. My son’s love for her will be too much to handle if she dies. We cannot let this happen, Shadow.”

“We won’t.” I promised because I too will fall into despair.

…

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Three knocks at my door took me off the train of memories. I pushed myself off the chair and rubbed my temples with rough fingers. Sgaeyl and Tairn have made up it seems, and her feelings for her mate are crashing into me like heavy waves. They’ve been going at it for hours and dwelling into sad memories did well to block her out.

Sgaeyl and Tairn made up. The thought crossed my mind too late.

I regret opening my door because standing before me was a disheveled and riled up Violet Sorrengail. She pushed herself into my room and I closed the door behind her with a raised brow. Then she pressed herself up against me, my back meeting my door and she began marking my neck with her lips and teeth. Kissing me like I belonged to her. As if my lips were hers to have.

She’s under the spell of the mating bond. I tilt my head away from her disconnecting my lips from hers, my scowl deeping with disgust and I push her away.

“Violet,” I say in warning.

She looked back at me and with clenched hands, she said, “Please, just let it happen this one time. I need you and Tairn’s feelings for Sgaeyl-.”

“I have a girlfriend.” I say with gritted teeth, anger bubbling in my chest as I crossed my arms over my chest. That didn’t stop her from taking her shirt off and I quickly turned away from her. I will not lay my eyes onto another woman.

[Name] is in a coma and I will wait for her, no matter how long it will take.

“Xaden, look at me,” Violet whispered.

“Not in a million years,” I bit back.

Knock….knock.

Two more knocks on my door interrupted Violet undressing herself and I tossed one of my shirts at her. “Wear this and do not say anything.” I told her and wiped the bit of saliva she left on my neck with repulsion. Then I opened my door with a snarky tone leaving me, “What is it now- [Name]?”

No…no, no,no. I tell myself that this is all wrong. The timing. The moment. Everything about now!

“Hi.”

She says shyly and all the butterflies in my stomach die the moment I can feel the burning on my neck. I took a peek into my room and glared at a hazy Violet, “Stay the fuck inside.” I hope my threatening voice was enough to keep her hidden. Then I closed my door gently looking back at [Name].

She must notice my neck decorated in ugly hickeys. But her pretty blue eyes haven’t left my eyes.

“I wanted to speak to you. I know I have been sleeping for a very long time now, but I think I know almost everything about me. About my signet and I want to explain it to Sgaeyl too. With all that’s going on with Lenin.”

Lenin. Yeah, Sgaeyl would love to know why her son is changing drastically.

“If I could just-”

My door opened up behind me and my body froze up, Violet’s voice making my heart race. “Xaden, what are you-”

[Name] moved to look behind me and I saw her eyes flash with hurt again. I hurt her in so many ways and I subconsciously moved my hand up to my neck. My palm brushed the marks Violet left in her wake and [Name] glared at them.

Suddenly she laughed, “So I just woke up from my coma. I just wanted a word with you, but you seem very occupied. We can talk some other time.”

“Speak! Leninach is giving you a chance to explain!”

Explain, yes. I can explain to her.

“It’s the mating bond, [Name],” I say, testing out the waters with her. “Sgaeyl and Tairn haven’t had sex in a long time. In months. So when Lenin awoke and they knew he was okay, their feelings came in strong.”

“So every time they fuck, you two will have some fun too?” Her response came before I could explain that we only kissed, and that was on Violet’s inability to shield. I resisted her every time with some fails like this one. But I didn’t make a move on her. Not once.

“No,” I said to the part of fucking. I don’t want Violet, I want her. “It’s happened before, yes. But we try not to let their feelings-”

“That’s all I need to know, Xaden,” [Name] says truthfully, looking away from me.

“Be more specific, Shadow! She thinks you are with that girl now!”

No, that’s not what I meant. She has to know this. I would never do this to her. Then her next words came in and I swore I felt gravity pull me closer to the earth.

“My death cannot come soon enough.”

Stop. She needs to stop speaking and let me explain. I grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand out of her jacket pocket. Then I tell her, “Take it back.” Take her words back and tell me that she doesn’t want to die. I don’t want her to leave me. Cold. Unbreathing. Dead.

In a swift motion, I used my other hand to grab her face forcing her to look into my eyes, “You don’t mean that, [Name]. I know you don’t.” Because I can feel her, she didn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to leave this world. So why doesn’t she take it back and tell me.

“It’s not that hard to put your shields up, is it?”

Tears began forming in her eyes. No, it’s not.

“You have no excuse, Riorson.”

Please, don’t call me that.

“I can forgive Violet for fucking my boyfriend. But I cannot forgive my boyfriend for letting his shields down to let himself indulge in a mating bond that isn’t his. Now let me go.”

Hold her for a bit longer. Look into her eyes that stare at me with a profound amount of disappointment. Of hurt and anguish.

“If I let you go, you won’t come back.” I whisper, still not over the words she wished for. A death no one will be happy about. I need her by my side or else I will fall apart. Lost in the shadows with no light to guide me through the unending darkness.

“You already did when you held her.”

She raised her arms up and slammed them against my own. At first I didn’t budge until I felt another presence nearby. Another disappointed Mairi watching from afar. I released her and [Name] walked away with the tears that finally fell.

“Xaden, I didn’t mean-”

“I told you one thing,” I turned around to face Violet, a rage so damned impossible to contain, “One fucking thing; stay inside. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What I supposedly done? My girlfriend, the woman I really love, thinks I’m cheating on her. Going behind her back with you, a Sorrengail?”

“We can tell her-”

“We?” I scoffed rolling my eyes at her, “There is no ‘we’, Violet. Never has been. I don’t like you. You’re alive for one reason and only one. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Violet scrambled to get her shirt off the floor and ran in the direction of her room. Liam long gone after my spat. I will have to explain to him that there is nothing between Violet and I. Just a mating bond between our dragons.

“Once Leninach is able to speak to her, I’m sure he will get her to listen to you.”

“Please,” I begged, opening my door and closing it behind me, “I cannot let our last conversation be a fight.”

“We won’t let it.” Sgaeyl promised me.

...

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