#and when nix gets shot

[dcyllom]

band of brothers is either made up shots showing the horrors of war and the emotional fallout of all your friends dying or it is extremely homoerotic shots of two men gazing into each others eyes in low lighting. no in between.

[scarletmika]

One Last Gift : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: Living with Bob Floyd was killing you slowly, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to admit how you felt about him. It's your birthday, though, and shouldn't the birthday girl get whatever it is she wants?

Warnings: insane amounts of fluff, insane amounts of pining (my god I couldn't stop), roommates to lovers, language, female reader, suggestive and steamy, language, Hangman being Hangman (but he's a good guy underneath), probably incorrect descriptions of the Navy (my dad was a Marine, I'm doing my best lol)

Word Count: 6,060 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“Living with Bob Floyd is actually ruining my life,”

It was an exaggeration on your part..for the most part. When the Dagger Squad had been asked to stay on assignment in North Island for the foreseeable future, the entire group jumped at the chance. In those few short weeks together, especially when you’re training for a mission many deemed entirely impossible to come back alive from, you quickly become a family, and no one was ready to leave one another. But staying for a prolonged period meant, inevitably, moving off base would be better for everyone’s mental sanity. The Dagger Squad might be like a family, but even families get on one another’s nerves more often than not.

Somehow, when discussing where everyone was moving to and how far from base everyone would live, you and Bob had agreed to move in together.

The decision shocked no one. Truly, the entire team suspected that if anyone was going to live together, it would be you two. You and Bob were like birds of a feather from the second you met that night in the Hard Deck. 

“Well, well, well,” Jake Seresin was nothing if not a cocky bastard most of the time. He shoved his pool cue over into your hands, an action that got an eyeroll out of you “If it ain’t Phoenix! Coyote, Naiad, here I was thinking we were special. Turns out…the invite went to anyone.”

Natasha stepped up to the pool table, eyebrow raised, with two men behind her. You quickly handed the pool cue off to Coyote as she squared off with Jake before you both.

“Fellas,” she addressed the boys behind her. “This here is Bagman-”

“-Hangman-”

“-whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re looking at the only Naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

Hangman waved his hand in the air, pretending to act humble, before attempting to speak. You cut him off, hand on his shoulder with a smirk of your own as you looked at the boys standing behind Nat.

“Mind you, it was a museum piece from the Cold War. And if I hadn’t laid cover for him, he’d have been dead before he could even take the shot,” Jake looked like he was considering protesting your statement, but ultimately shrugged in agreement. You looked from the boys to Natasha, a smile lighting up your face. “Good to see you, Nix.”

“You too, Naiad,” she quickly pulled you into a side hug, arm still slung around your shoulders as she gestured to the boys behind her. “This here is Payback and Fanboy. Boys, this is Naiad. One of the best pilots I’ve ever known, in and out of the cockpit, and the only one who can keep Hangman’s head out of his ass sometimes.”

“Hey-”

“Naiad?” Hangman’s protest was cut off by Payback’s questioning glance toward you. “Isn’t that, like, a water nymph or something?”

“She got her callsign during one of our brief assignments at Boca Chica Field in Key West, Florida,” Coyote threw him, amusement on his face as he shook his head at the memory. “Couldn’t keep that girl out of the water even if you tried.”

“In Coyote and Hangman’s defense,” you quickly jumped in, sending a wink back at your two best friends. “They tried…desperately, but to no avail.”

Laughter rang through the group at the comment, before Natasha pointed off to the side of the pool table.

“Now, who is he?”

The group's eyes followed Natasha’s pointer finger to the man sitting quietly off to the side. He held an entire cup of peanuts in his hand, wiping the excess shells to the floor as he looked around at the group now looking at him, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

“When did you get in?” Coyote questioned.

“O-Oh I’ve been here the whole time,”

Everyone missed the small quirk of your lips when the man finally spoke, that slight twinge of southern in his accent carrying through the air as he nervously glanced around the group.

“Man is a stealth pilot…literally,” Hangman commented as your hand flew up, whacking him across the shoulder. The mystery man shook his head.

“Weapons systems officer, actually,”

“...with no sense of humor,” another whack to Hangman’s shoulder had him looking to you with wide eyes. “Can you quit it with that? Your hand is going to be imprinted on my shoulder at this point.”

“Then quit being a dick for two seconds,” you diverted your attention back to the groups new WSO with a grin. “So, what do they call you?”

He sent you a shy smile, adjusting himself on his chair again with a small nod.

“Bob,” and when Payback questioned him about his callsign, Bob seemed to hesitate for a moment before repeating again “...just Bob,”

“Bob Floyd?” Natasha spoke up again as you turned, plucking the pool cues from Coyote once more before turning back to the conversation again. “You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore?”

“Seems like it,”

“Well, let’s break him in then,” you’d chimed in, stepping up to Bob and holding out a pool cue in his direction. “Any good at pool, Floyd?”

He seemed to sit up straighter, mirroring your smile with a nod of his head.

“Pretty decent, I’d say, Naiad”

“9-ball then. Rack ‘em for me,”

It felt like that day had been years ago, when it had only been the culmination of maybe six months. Bob and you had naturally drifted to one another, almost always engaged in a conversation or sharing a beer during a night at the Hard Deck. It helped that you were the only one who was able to get Hangman to back off him most days, something Bob appreciated.

Living with Bob was great. He was one of your best friends at this point. Kind, respectful, deceivingly hilarious, but there was one problem.

You were hopelessly in love with him, and you refused to say anything about it.

You’d kept mainly quiet about it…for the most part. The only ones who knew officially about your feelings for Natasha, Javy, and Jake, as it was impossible to hide it from your best friends. But it had been months, and as the entire squad gathered in your and Bob’s shared ground-floor apartment to celebrate your birthday, you were slowly losing the restraint you were holding onto to keep it under wraps.

“Living with him is ruining your life because you’re being a baby about it,”

Natasha and Javy laughed at the comment from Hangman, the four of you currently sitting around the fire pit in the small backyard that your apartment held the luxury of having. The rest of the squad, including Maverick and Penny, were currently crowded inside somewhere, most likely the living room, while the four of you had migrated outside for a private conversation.

“I’m not being a baby about it!” you’d argued back, taking a swig of your beer and savoring the taste as you threw Hangman a pointed look. “I’m going to ruin everything if I say something, but living together is torture. One-sided feelings aren’t fun, Bagman.”

“Oh, Naiad, you’re so clueless,” Coyote was the one to laugh out the words, clinking his own beer bottle against Natasha’s outstretched one. “You’re both hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your three best friends shared a laugh, but you, in turn, were frozen trying to process his words. It sounded absurd in your head, to think that this was anything more than you pining after your best friend, your coworker, your roommate. There was no way it could be anything more than one-sided..

“You guys are ridiculous-”

“No, Coyote is entirely right,” Natasha sat forward in her chair, giving you a pointed look. “Let’s take a walk down memory lane, okay? When you called me after living with Bob for less than two weeks, that day you both came back from the complex’s pool?”

For a hot summer Saturday, your apartment complex’s pool was deserted, but you relished in it. You got your pick of chairs for sunbathing, and you didn’t have to share any of the cool water with the kids who lived down the hall from you. It even allowed you to blow up your favorite in pool lounger and float around in the cool breeze, the water nipping at your exposed skin around your favorite bikini, and simply soak in the sun.

“What a shock, my waterbug is in the water,”

At the sound of a voice just feet away outside the pool, you lifted the sunglasses off your face, squinting in the brightened light. Bob stood just at the edge of the pool, donning his swim trunks that you’d seen countless times at Coronado Beach with your friends, along with the t-shirt he typically wore to the beach, too. You shot him a small smile, flicking some of the water in his direction as he laughed. You hoped the red in your skin from the sun would cover the blush that was surely spreading through your cheeks at his simple use of the word “my” in front of his favorite nickname for you: waterbug.

“The rest of the complex doesn’t seem to want to take advantage of the sun, so why not claim the pool for myself?”

“Or is it because you can’t seem to stay away from the water?”

“You going to stand there and bust my non-existent balls or join me in the pool, Floyd?”

As Bob laughed and promised he’d be in the water momentarily, you shifted your sunglasses back to their place in front of your eyes. That also happened to be the exact moment Bob Floyd had, for some reason, decided to take his shirt off.

In all the time you’d known him thus far, in all the beach trips you’d been on with him, Bob Floyd kept his shirt on, even as your mutual friends seemed to gang up on him for it. You’d, of course, fantasized at night (and sometimes in daydreams) about what might be hiding under there, because there’s no way he wasn’t at least slightly jacked given that he was in the Navy, but you hadn’t been prepared fully to see it for yourself.

Bob Floyd wasn’t nearly as jacked as Jake and Bradley were, but he didn’t need to be. He was lean, his muscles clearly defined, and the strain in his biceps as he tore his shirt off was enough for you to think that maybe you needed to slide completely into the water and cool yourself off for multiple reasons.

“I see why you keep your shirt on at the beach now, Floyd,” you remarked, trying to cover the feeling crawling through you with a cough and a joke, leaning your head back against your pool float again and closing your eyes. “You’d probably have all the ladies on the beach after you if you did.”

You’d heard a faint laugh from him before the pool got quiet…too quiet. That’s when Bob took off running, and before you knew it, he’d cannonballed straight into the pool, soaking you with the chlorinated water as he went. You sputtered, taking your glasses off and throwing them toward your chair with your bag on the outside of the pool.

“BOB!” you’d called out with a small laugh, still wiping water from your face as you glanced around to get a glimpse of him. By the time you realized you couldn’t see him, and what that meant, it was already too late. Your pool float had been flipped, dunking you entirely into the pool without a moment's notice.

By the time you’d resurfaced from the water, slicking your hair back and coughing, Bob was in hysterics from where he floated in front of you. That fluttering feeling in your stomach was pushed to the back of your mind now as you smirked across the water at him.

“What, my waterbug can’t handle some water?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it Floyd!” you’d called back before tackling him, both of you falling back into the water in another round of hysterics.

Even the mere thought of that day, of the moment you’d see Bob without his shirt for the first time, was enough to bring the blush back to your cheeks. Natasha noticed, laughing as she pointed it out to the boys.

“See! You’re blushing as bad as I know you were when you called me that day!”

“Okay, this doesn’t prove anything! We’ve established I already like him-”

“Oh no, it proves he likes you, too,” Coyote shot back with a smirk. “Rooster is his best friend, and he won’t even take his shirt off around HIM! I haven’t seen him take it off once, so obviously…either he trusts you enough to show off what he’s hiding under there, or he’s deliberately showing off what he’s got because he wants you to notice it.”

What they were saying…it wasn’t hard to believe, at least not if your friends were talking about anyone else but you and Bob. For some reason, it just didn’t seem possible to you that Bob felt the same way for you that you did for him. Wouldn’t he have surely done something by now, have taken the leap that you were too scared to take?

“Guys-”

“Can’t forget the night you made him dinner,” Coyote interrupted again, his smirk growing at the confused look on your face. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot? The second Bob was on base the next morning, and you split off to head to the gym, he was talking Rooster’s ear off about it. I swear, there were literal hearts in this man’s eyes as he talked about you.”

It was rare that you managed to get a day off during the middle of the week, but somehow it had worked out for you. A very rare Wednesday that you got to spend keeping up on the household chores that neither you nor Bob wanted to deal with come the weekend, saving it for when you were both exhausted and sweating from the San Diego heat late at night. Grocery shopping for your shared kitchen, loading and unloading multiple loads of laundry for both of you, whatever you could do so that Bob would have an easy night when he got home.

Unlike you, he hadn’t gotten a single day off that week.

There was a new batch of young pilots, and Cyclone and Warlock decided that the Dagger Squad was the best choice for teaching them. With Maverick, Rooster, Coyote, and Hangman all being single-seater pilots, you were the lucky one who’d gotten a rare day off. And with a single text from Bob that night, letting you know he’d be back at the apartment soon, you knew exactly the best way to cheer him up after a long day in the sun.

The first day you moved into your apartment together, and the rest of the team celebrated with you, you had cooked for the entire team. Homemade spaghetti, just like your mother used to make growing up. Homemade pasta, homemade tomato sauce, you name it, and the dish had it. The entire team had adored it, but Bob had sung it’s praises over and over again the entire night.

Being entirely homemade, it was NOT an easy dish to whip up at any point in time, so you hadn’t made it again…until now.

“Hey, I’m back!”

“In the kitchen!” you’d called back the second you heard Bob’s voice from the entryway and the familiar shutting of the front door to the apartment. The sauce was heating up, the pasta was boiling, and it left you simply standing off to the side, leaning against the countertop as Bob entered.

He was exhausted, and it was written clearly across his face. He’d already changed into his casual clothes, and judging by his slightly damp hair, he must have showered on base before coming home. A small smile was shot your way before he was digging through the fridge.

“Be glad you had the day off,” he’d grumbled out, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and almost chugging half of it in an instant. “Those newbies…god, they didn’t know how to listen today. Even Hangman was playing bad cop instead of good cop.”

“Well, that’s how you know it’s a bad day,” you shared a laugh at that. “I did the grocery shopping this morning, so we’re fully stocked up until at least next week. The laundry was all done, too. Your basket is sitting outside your door currently.”

Bob paused at that, just staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher hidden somewhere in his eyes.

“I...you didn’t need to do that. Thank you,” the pair of you shared a soft smile as Bob turned away, shaking his head, and he pulled his phone out. “I haven’t gotten a chance to eat yet, though. Probably going to Doordash something-”

“No need, food will be done in a minute,” he turned back to you as you said that, but you’d already turned back, stirring the pasta noodles in the boiling hot pot on the stove before you. “Pasta should be done in just a minute, and there’s fresh garlic bread keeping warm in the oven.”

“You...you made me…” your cheeks flared for a moment, hearing the way Bob stumbled over his words behind you somewhere in the kitchen. “Is that…your mom’s homemade pasta?”

“I figured it had probably been a long day for you, and I know how much you liked it last time. If you grab us both drinks, I can have this done and on the table in a little bit,”

Silence enveloped the kitchen for a moment before a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. A chill immediately shot down your spine as you froze. Bob’s hands gripped your sides, pulling you back into him as the side of his head leaned against yours, and you faltered for just a second while stirring the boiling food before you. The unmistakable feel of lips pressed against the side of your head, and heat immediately shot through your body at the simple action.

“Thank you…”

“...anytime,”

Okay, that memory made you feel a little different, had yet another flush coating your skin, redness deepening. You’d only been living together for two months when you’d made him dinner that night…but that was just the first night of many.

Cooking dinner together became a new normal for both of you, almost always discussing what you wanted to eat night after night. Gone were the nights of eating separately, of having separate grocery lists; that night had set forth a new normal for you, one that you were constantly navigating together. Thinking back, it was also the night when so much changed over the course of your entire relationship with Bob.

Movie nights where you sat just a little closer together than you needed to, sharing a blanket. Those movie nights that ended in you both falling asleep together on the couch, moments you hurried through the next day, and tried not to dwell on what they could or couldn’t mean. The way you ordered for one another at the Hard Deck after that, the other’s usual memorized. And if you didn’t want the usual, it was like you could read one another’s minds.

Had you overlooked so many signs?

“Hey, losers!” it was Bradley Bradshaw, leaning against the doorway of the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, the setting sun washing over the barren yard. His presence interrupted the laughter and hushed conversation shared between Coyote and Phoenix. “Come on, cake time for the birthday girl before we get the movie going.”

You’d nodded, but your mind was elsewhere. Even as Natasha and Javy reentered your apartment to join everyone else. You were staring off into space, trying to fully comprehend what your friends had said, before you looked to Hangman. Your best friend, your confidant since the day you’d met him (no matter how much of an ass he tended to be), simply waiting for you to speak from across the firepit with a smile on his face.

“Have I really been oblivious?”

“Baby-on-board doesn’t tell me about his deep, hidden feelings…but from what I’ve seen, yes,” Jake laughed, rising to his feet as he looked down at you. “Look, Naiad, you’re my best friend. Hell, you’re basically my little sister. Feelings are scary, I should know, that’s why I don’t do relationships. But you and Bobby boy…god, you two need to just knock that wall down and jump each other’s bones already.”

Somehow, Hangman always knew what you needed, and in that moment, you really did need a laugh. You shook your head at him, rising to your own feet and taking his now-empty beer bottle from him, tossing his and yours into the outdoor bin.

“Thanks, Jake. Sometimes, it seems like you really do have a heart,”

“Don’t let the others know that, I’ve got a reputation,” he slung an arm around your shoulder, dragging you back into your own apartment. “And please, don’t thank me until you two finally get laid.”

It was the perfect night, and there was truly no one else that you would’ve rathered spend your birthday with than these people that had become more than friends, more than coworkers, but family.

Fanboy and Payback had placed a sad, dollar-store party hat on your head, positioning you at the head of the dining room table. There was a reason they were all Navy pilots, because not a single one of them could sing well, and it reminded you that you’d need to personally apologize to your neighbors the next day for what probably sounded like dying whales in your apartment.

You’d simply laughed at the group’s terrible rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ watching as Bob and Natasha brought out the large cake they had personally decorated just for you tonight. You’d slotted yourself into Bob’s side as they sang without a care in the world, leaning your head against him before blowing out your candles to yet another round of applause and cheers. Bob didn’t seem to mind, his arm simply winding around your waist and holding you to his side.

Your conversation with Natasha, Javy, and Jake hung in the back of your mind, even as you’d all settled into your small living room to enjoy a movie together after saying a final goodbye to Maverick and Penny for the night. An argument broke out between which of your favorite movies to watch, Beauty and the Beast or The Heat, as you settled onto the loveseat beside Bob, who immediately draped your favorite blanket across both of your laps. Almost unanimously, Beauty and the Beast was chosen, seemingly just to piss off Jake who moaned and groaned that he’d ‘watched it enough with you’ before.

It was that conversation with your friends that replayed in your mind halfway through the movie when your hand reached out under the blanket, interlocking your fingers with Bob’s. If he minded, he didn’t say, simply allowed it to happen and squeezed your hand back, unaware of the blush stretching across your cheeks just as a similar one crossed his.

And when was was said and done, the clock striking 11 p.m. that night, your friends had all filed out with a final goodbye to you both. And just like that, you and Bob were left alone in the comfort of your own home together again. This time, though, the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, your pining wasn’t one-sided was stuck at the forefront of your mind.

Bob washed the dishes in the sink as you dried them, conversing quietly together, stolen looks happening from both sides as you both remained oblivious to the other.

The words were practically hanging off your tongue, and you had to bite them back every time you looked at him and caught him already looking at you. It was your birthday, after all, and if there was one thing you truly wanted to celebrate this day, it was Bob Floyd. You wanted him in every conceivable way, you had since those first few weeks of knowing him, and you knew after the revelations you’d come through tonight with your friends that you could never go back to ignoring your feelings again after tonight.

By the time the clock read 11:30, the dishes were done, and you and Bob both stood quietly in the hallway outside of your bedroom doors, simply looking at one another. The only light flooding the hallway came from the moon shining through the curtains down the hall, but something between you both felt different. Electric. Tense. Charged.

“Thank you for everything today,” you’d whispered out, afraid to speak too loudly in the quiet of the night.

“Of course…you deserved it,” Bob’s answer had been easy, but you could see it. The hesitation at the end, like there was more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself before he could.

You wanted to say more, too. You wanted to profess it all, everything you’d been feeling for months, everything boiling over inside of you. It was dying to come out, dying to know the truth: was this one-sided? Did he feel the same?”

“Goodnight, baby-on-board,” was what you said instead, a small tease woven through your voice.

He’d laughed lightly, a sound you adored more than you cared to admit.

“Goodnight, Naiad. Happy birthday,”

Sleep didn’t come to you. It had been 10, 15, maybe 20 minutes, who knew. But you couldn’t sleep, you simply tossed and turned until you were left staring up at your ceiling in the dead of night, wrapped in the blanket that was soft as a feather that Bob had bought you.

Bob. He’d invaded every single one of your thoughts, not that he was ever NOT in your thoughts, and it was driving you so insane you knew there was no sleeping this off.

Padding back into the kitchen, you left every light off. Instead you stood in the dark, facing your cabinets as you drank a cool glass of water in an attempt to calm yourself down, illuminated only by the lights of the oven and microwave clocks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You’d frozen in place, whipping around to see Bob leaning against the doorway of the kitchen…shirtless, only in his boxers.

If your throat could’ve gone drier at the sight, it would’ve. The only saving grace you had was the fact that the lights were off, and you could just barely see the outline of his defined muscles in the darkness. It was then that you suddenly realized you were also standing in the kitchen, across from your almost completely naked roommate, in nothing but a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt of your father’s you’d stolen before college.

“Y-yeah…something like that,”

“Same here,” his voice was low, the kind of low that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “I uh…I have a lot on my mind.”

The silence between you seemed to stretch on forever. It was like you both knew where this was heading, like you both knew exactly why the other couldn’t sleep, but neither of you wanted to breach it, neither of you wanted to be the one to cross the line. Or you wanted to, but neither of you knew how to.

“That night…when I made you dinner,” you broached the topic slowly, unsure of where you were even going with this. You wanted to just tell him, but you didn’t know how. “It was…it was very domestic.”

“It was,”

“Do you remember it?”

“Like it was yesterday,”

You paused for a moment, watching his outline in the darkness.

“Do you…do you think about it?”

“All the time,” the way he said it, it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders the second he let those words leave his lips. “I…I think about you all the time.”

That was all you needed. Confirmation, no matter how small, that Bob Floyd did feel the same way for you that you’d felt for him forever. Letting out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you glanced toward the clock on the oven: 11:58 p.m., and suddenly a burst of confidence flowed through you.

“You know…it’s still technically my birthday. There’s…one last gift I really wish I’d gotten,”

His silhouette seemed to straighten up at your words, before he was across the kitchen in moments. Right in front of you, illuminated by the oven clock light, you could finally see his face just inches before you. His slightly parted lips, those dilated blue eyes you could get lost in for hours. His fingers just barely brushed over the skin on the outer edge of your thighs, and your own breath hitched as he looked down at you.

“Well…it’d be wrong not to give the birthday girl what she wants,” there was a slight tremor in his voice, a twinge of nervousness, as if this could all come crashing down on you both with one wrong move. “What do you want, Naiad?”

Finally, you’d let what you’d been dying to say finally go tumbling from your lips.

“I just want the WSO I fell in love with months ago to be mine…in whatever way he’ll let me have him,”

Another word didn’t need to be said before Bob’s hands had a hold of your hips, lifting you up onto the counter behind you. A small gasp left your lips at the cold feel of the granite against your bare thighs as your legs spread on instinct, and Bob didn’t waste a second in stepping between them and pressing himself to you. Hands gripping your waist and holding you to him, your hands immediately found him, curling around his shoulders and fingers twisting into his hair as he let out a low groan.

The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of both of you panting. You hadn’t even kissed, and Bob Floyd had you wrecked beyond compare.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve thought about this, about you,” he’d whispered, almost moaned, lips just barely an inch from your own. “If I’d have known…if I’d have listened to Rooster when he told me you felt the same way-”

“We were both oblivious,” you���d laughed out, hands tugging on his hair again just to hear that sweet groan flow out of him again. “We’re here now, though.”

“And if you want me to stop, I need you to tell me now,” the grip of one of his hands on your hip tightened while the other moved down to your thigh, fingers splayed across the bare skin. Bob sounded absolutely wrecked, and it sent a burn of desire straight through you to the core. “If you don’t stop me now, if I kiss you…I’m not going to be able to stop.”

You let one hand leave his hair, instead curling around his jaw to tilt his lips toward yours.

“Good…because I don’t want you to stop,”

Your friends had joked that Bob Floyd was probably a timid lover, that his kisses were probably soft, sweet, passionate, but in the most mundane of ways. Maybe they were right, maybe in public, surrounded by others, that’s how he’d be. But in this moment, with you, the air charged with the anticipation that this had been a long time coming, Bob Floyd’s kiss was anything but timid.

He kissed you with passion, with hunger, with red-hot, burning need embedded in every move of his lips against yours. His vice-like grip was sure to leave a mark across your hip bone, or leave the indents of his fingers splayed across your thigh for days to come. There wasn’t a single centimeter of space left between you both as Bob pulled you straight into him, his bare chest pressed against your front as you begged him in your own head to just get rid of your shirt already. 

You held him back just as closely, hand still wound into his hair as the other left his jaw, trailing down his chest to the sculpted body you’d only seen a handful of times, but dreamed about getting your hands on for months now. A low moan left you the second his lips trailed away from your own, trialing down your jawline and to your neck, a slight hiss of pain for just a second leaving your lips as he bit a mark into your skin, one just high enough it would be impossible to hide from your friends at work.

Marking you, claiming you as his. He didn’t need to, though; you’d been his long before this moment, he just didn’t know it.

“Take me to bed,” you’d just barely managed to whisper out, tugging is lips back to yours. “Make me yours.”

“You already are,” he’d whispered back before pressing another bruising kiss to your lips. And in a show of incredible strength that flooded your core with another burn of desire, Bob had swept you into his arms, navigating throughout your shared home with precision, before he’d brought you over the threshold of his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him with just his foot.

A night that felt like a dream. That, truly, if not for waking up in Bob Floyd’s arms the next morning, you’d have believed it was just another dream of yours.

Sunlight streamed through the crack in Bob’s curtains as you’d opened your eyes, head resting on his bare chest. His thin comforter just barely covered both of your bare bodies, letting the cool, San Diego morning air of the open window ghost over your skin. Bob’s arm was wound around your body, drawing a circle along the skin of your back. You shifted in his arms in order to sit up and fully look at him, that delicious ache in your bones and muscles an indicator that, no, last night wasn’t a dream.

“Hi,” you’d whispered out the second you had your eyes on him, mirroring the smile he already had on his face as he ran a hand through his messy up hair.

“Hi back,”

A giggle escaped you at the deep sound of his voice so early in the morning. You leaned over him, wincing slightly at that ever-present ache in your muscles, grabbing his glasses and slotting them back onto his face with a grin.

“There’s my handsome pilot-”

“I love you,” he’d murmured, cheeks heating red instantly as another giggle managed to slip past your lips. “I know I said it…a thousand times last night, but I had to say it again. I love you…I’ve loved you for so long, Naiad-”

You cut him off, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. This one differed from all those the night before. Still passionate, but slow. Still needy, but laced with months of hidden love for one another.

“I love you, too,” you muttered back against his lips as you slowly pulled away.

“Let me take you on a date tonight,” he’d immediately said, arms around your waist, tugging you even closer, as if that was possible at this rate. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, but let me do this right. Let me take you out to dinner-”

“Let me stop you right there,” you interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with dinner dates, but I’d prefer if we do something that we don’t already do constantly in our apartment as our first official date.”

Laughter was shared between you both at that comment as Bob nodded his head in agreement.

“An arcade, then. There’s one over on Mission Beach, even has laser tag, and a roller coaster right next to it. Then, my waterbug can run off onto the beach and jump into the ocean like I know she’ll want to,”

My waterbug. His waterbug. It brought another smile to your lips as you leaned in for yet another kiss, a feeling you were sure you’d already grown addicted to.

“Anywhere, anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, Bob Floyd,”

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you. 

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face. 

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter. 

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place. 

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names? 

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key. 

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung. 

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet? 

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this. 

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa. 

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with.  The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds. 

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence. 

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her? 

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly. 

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics. 

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered. 

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn. 

Someone passes him another. 

Someone else claps him on the back. 

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element. 

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is? 

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking. 

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump. 

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often. 

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..." 

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless. 

He's right. 

You do hate this. 

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be. 

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here." 

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it. 

The other one is… 

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head. 

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter. 

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall. 

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling. 

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him. 

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making. 

And he's admitting it. 

Voluntarily. 

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom. 

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect. 

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor. 

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room. 

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish. 

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention. 

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment. 

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid." 

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you. 

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual. 

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks. 

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier. 

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice? 

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball. 

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining. 

In small doses. 

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you. 

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure. 

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. 

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food. 

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it. 

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue. 

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it. 

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest. 

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you. 

Good for him. 

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing. 

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise. 

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food. 

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes. 

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters. 

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused. 

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size. 

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics. 

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly. 

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant. 

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion. 

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen. 

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol. 

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions. 

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination. 

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver. 

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty. 

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued. 

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower. 

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern. 

He knows you shouldn’t drink that. 

You know you shouldn’t drink that. 

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink. 

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[bussyslayer333]

‘cause you’re so smooth

summary: phoenix invites the boys to her salsa class, big mistake.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, suggestive nature lols, me not knowing anything about salsa

my return to writing with a fic i teased over a year ago!! i hope you all enjoy

ps requests r open :p

“Nix, if you think I want to spend my Sunday evening learning to salsa dance with a bunch of soccer moms then I think your concussion hasn’t healed properly.” Jake sasses in response to Nat’s invitation.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Nat but Sunday is my chill out day, when else am I gonna beat Fitch’s ass on cod?” Fanboy reasons.

Natasha knew it was a stretch asking the boys to join her salsa dancing class, but she thought it was important for them to get out more. At the moment, seemingly all they did was trudge from work to the Hard Deck over and over again.

She sighs, “it would be good for you guys to get out more, y’know?”

“I’ll go, Nat,” Bob smiles, nodding to her from where he is perched on a stool behind her.

“Thank you, Bob.” Nat nods back to him, “the rest of you can suck it.”

“Hey!” Bradley yells as he appears back from the bar, beers in tow, “what did we say about using that type of language?”

“Shut up Dadley,” Nat rolls her eyes as Bradley flicks his tongue out before handing her a beer.

“As much as I’d truly love to attend that class ‘Nix, I’m already a salsa pro and I wouldn’t want you to feel embarrassed about your skills,” Bradley declares, before taking an obnoxious sip of his beer.

“Yeah fuckin’ right, and my dad is prima ballerina,” Jake snorts.

“Let’s not discredit Papa Seresin, I saw him tear Boogie Wonderland up at your sister’s wedding.” Coyote nods.

“Yeah and even that shit was better than what Rooster could pull off,” Jake decides.

Bradley only shrugs at the jibe, a lazy smirk plastered onto his face, which serves only to piss Jake off more.

“Dance off?” Fanboy proposes, standing to head to the jukebox.

“No?” Jake frowns.

Fanboy drops back to his seat with a sigh, “was worth a shot.”

Nat shakes her head with a snort and brings the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Look it’s fine, I’m just saying I think you guys would enjoy it!” She reasons.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun!” Bob adds happily.

Nat can only sigh at the lack of response.

Bob is already waiting outside the community centre when Nat arrives, looking down and nervously picking at a thread on the bottom of his gym shorts.

“You ready?” Nat questions, trying to alleviate his nerves.

When Bob looks up his brows unfurl and he lets a small smile sip onto his face.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do this!” He pumps his fist a little awkwardly.

Nat can only chuckle in response as she makes her way to the room at the left of the reception where the class is held. You’re stood by the door chatting with one of the older women in your class when Nat comes into your view.

“Natasha! How’s my best student?” You tease, stepping towards her.

“I’m great, thanks!” Nat blushes before gesturing to Bob, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.”

Bob sucks in a breath as you finally lock eyes with him. Shit. You were beautiful and those leggings were doing you an undoubted amount of favours.

Sadly, Bob had an incredibly annoying habit he was unable to shake. It was known as “embarrassing himself in front of beautiful women” and that seemed to strike him just as you stuck your manicured hand out to shake his own.

The breath that Bob had sucked in caught in his throat which was drying up increasingly as he took you in, leading to an unprecedented coughing fit doubling him over. What seemed to make it worse was your shocked gasp and immediate move to lean over him and pay his back gently. Bob tried not to focus on your cleavage directly next to his face and instead on regulating his breathing. It was proving difficult, especially when he could hear Nat cackling at his misfortune from behind him.

Once almost fully back to normal, you squeeze his bicep and chuckle,

“I don’t think I’ve ever quite literally taken someone’s breath away!” You giggle, voice oh so sweet.

Bob can’t even let himself feel embarrassed with the way your soft hand feels on his arm.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he cringes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly.

Nat is growing seemingly agitated by Bob’s lingering near the door so she steers him forwards away from you.

“Best get set up!” She announces, dragging him into the room.

The classroom is spacious, a high ceiling and large windows on the left wall. The wall facing the door is covered in mirrors that amplify the light in the area.

Before Bob can speak up again, two men who look to be in their late 40s rush over towards Natasha. They’re the complete opposite of one another, the first who reaches for Natasha is tanned and has dark curling hair with flecks of grey throughout.

“Natasha! Darling it is so great to see you!” He exclaims with a slight accent, holding her hand in his.

The other has embraced the grey in his hair, he’s relatively pale but has clearly kept his physique, he nods towards Bob with a glint of something in his eye, “I thought he wasn’t your type?”

Nat snorts, clueing Bob in finally on what the two men were hinting at.

“My best friend, boys don’t worry,” she teases.

“Thank God, I’ve been trying to set you up with my niece for how long now?” The dark haired man smiles.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m always busy at the moment,” she shrugs apologetically before turning back to Bob, “Bob this is Marco and Luke.”

They both shake his hand and size him up as they do so, the grey haired one (Luke) declares.

“He’s cute, Nat, where have you been hiding him?” He prods.

Bob exhales at the approval and watches as Nat breaks out into laughter. “Away from you!”

Marco and Luke break into laughter alongside Nat and Bob can’t help himself but join. Just as they’re all catching their breath, Bob jumps out of his skin again as he feels his hand on his shoulder.

“Boys, we’re being welcoming to our newcomer aren’t we?” You hum.

Your hip is touching Bob’s and the soft skin of your hand on his shoulder has him malfunctioning, luckily he isn’t forced into replying (or choking) this time.

“Of course we are beautiful, what do you think of us?” Marco gasps in faux shock.

“I think that I know what you two are like,” you roll your eyes before making your way to the front of the room.

You send Bob a sly wink before finally beginning, “It’s so great to see you all again!”

Everyone in the room blurts out greetings at you as you begin, “We’ll continue on from last week,” you strut over to the stereo in the corner and a latin pop track floats out into the room and Bob vaguely recognises the tune.

Marco and Luke are quick to start fluidly moving around the floor space and Bob notices that others in the room are doing the same. You make your way quickly over to him and place your hand on the small of his back, straightening his posture.

“I don’t expect you to get it immediately,” you smile into his ear, “we’ll start off with some basics and turn variations.”

Bob hopes you can’t see the nervous perspiration already forming on the back of his neck and nods a little too eagerly at your words. He looks back to Nat for some encouragement but she’s already dancing and chatting with a group of women next to the tall windows.

“I don’t bite,” You giggle, shocking Bob who looks back to see you holding your hand out for him to grab onto.

“Sorry, I’m not the best dancer-” Bob’s self depreciation is swiftly disrupted by you placing his hand on your waist and the other in your own.

“All the more for me to work with,” you smile, and Bob feels himself smiling back.

Although a tad clunky, Bob manages not to step on your toes and has some surprisingly fluid hip movement which intrigues you ever so slightly.

By the last ten minutes of the class, Bob is twirling Marco around as Luke and Nat chat to you about technique.

“What were you nervous about?” Marco probes Bob, “you’re a natural!”

Bob can only chuckle shyly in response and he glances over at your frame. Marco seems to notice Bob’s longing glances and slowly stops their dance.

“Go for it.”

“What?” Bob splutters.

“She’s been making googoo eyes at you the whole time mister, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Bob reels for a moment at Marcos admission before straightening up. “You think?”

Marco rolls his eyes. “I know.”

Before Bob can reach you you’re already strutting back towards the stereo to lower the volume of the music and gather everyone’s attention.

“Thank you so much everyone! You’ve all been brilliant today and I can’t wait to see you next week!” You beam at everyone.

People begin to gather to chat and start to disperse and you begin to gather your own belongings, stopping to make conversation with others as you do so. Luke and Nat join Bob and Marco with sly smirks on their faces.

“So…” Nat begins, “You’ll be coming back next week I presume?”

Bob flushes at Nat’s knowing look. “Yeah,” he looks to you, “definitely.”

Bob didn’t mean to let it slip. Like seriously, his lips were so sealed. Air tight.

“But HOW hot are we talking?” Mickey slurs over the nth shot he’d done with Bob at the Hard Deck’s happy hour.

So maybe not air tight.

It was Thursday evening and the rest of the daggers had politely declined drinks with Fanboy, but Bob (the ever dutiful friend) had accepted, hoping to be in and out within the hour. But alas, here they were.

“Fuckin’ smoking,” Bob mimes an explosion with his hands as Mickey nods enthusiastically to his answer.

“I choked on air when I saw her and almost popped a boner during a Justin Timberlake song,” Bob continues to ramble, once given the chance to talk about you he clearly wasn’t going to stop.

“And when is this class?” Mickey slumps closer to Bob, tequila breath hot on his neck.

“Ummmm, Sunday evening at 6 I think?” Bob nods, remembering the details Nat had sent him in a text the week previous.

“Good to know,” Mickey hums, reaching his hand forward to signal for another round, knocking someone’s drink over in the process. “Oops.”

Bob is quick to drag Mickey away from the bar top after that, realising they’d probably overdone it a tad for a weekday evening.

As the cool sea breeze hits Bob’s flushed face whilst him and Mickey wait outside the Hard Deck for their uber, he can’t help but let his mind drift to you, what you were potentially up to, do you teach other classes during the week? Do you dance professionally? God, you definitely could, the way your hips moved-

Bob shook his head, as if to get the image of you stuck in his mind out. He looked to Mickey hanging off of his arm, he was looking to the ground and shaking as if to stave off the imminent vomit that was about to leave his mouth any second now.

“Let’s get you home man,” Bob pats Mickey on the head, dragging him towards their Uber pulling up.

“Hey, Bob!” Nat yells across the parking lot, catching the back of her friend’s tall frame leant against a pillar near the front of the community center.

When Bob turns around, Nat notices two people next to him who she was not expecting to see.

“Fitch? Fanboy?” Nat cocks her head to the side. “I thought you guys were too busy to come?”

Nat’s accusatory eyes meet Bob’s sheepish expression as he awkwardly clears his throat.

“We heard the teacher was hot as fuck.” Payback shrugs.

Fanboy giggles next to him in excitement, “I’ve been practicing-”

“Bob I swear-” Natasha begins, finger pointing right into Bob’s chest.

“Sup, biatches!” Jake yells, alerting everyone of his and Javy’s presence. “Who’s ready to get their salsa on?”

Nat spins around on her heel, eyes shooting daggers into Jake and Javy.

“Bob, I’m going to kill you.” She states, eerily calm.

“Oh come on Phe! You wanted us here just last week!” Jake exclaims, walking round to slap Bob on the shoulder and greet Payback and Fanboy behind him.

“Yeah! When I wanted you guys to get out and do something productive! Not fuck my lovely salsa teacher, who by the way, was not socialised by wolves! So will absolutely not be charmed by any of you fools!”

With that, Nat turns and walks into the community center, leaving the boys to sprint in after her.

“At least this can’t get any worse,” Nat mutters to herself, pulling the door to your studio open.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nat stills in the doorway, the rest of the boys behind her peeking their heads in.

“What now?” Bob asks guiltily.

Nat opens the door fully and allows the men behind her to file into the studio, where her fellow classmates are stood in a semi circle whooping and hollering at you dancing in the middle with none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

“Fucking Bradshaw,” Jake scoffs, pushing his way ahead whilst checking himself out in the full length mirrors that line the opposite wall of the room.

“Chicken never told us he could dance!” Jake yells over the latin music filling the room, successfully interrupting your dance with Bradley.

Bradley’s head whips to the side at the sound of that familiar ear grating voice. He gives you an apologetic look as he walks over to begin squabbling with a man you presume he knows. The commotion between the boys alerts you to the presence of Natasha and Bob as well as three other unfamiliar men. When Bradley had introduced himself with a smirk and a drawling voice as a friend of Natasha’s you had to wonder whether all of her colleagues were so handsome and by the looks of it, they were.

Nat is quick to walk over to you with an apologetic smile. “I want to apologise in advance for the next hour. They are insufferable.”

You look behind her to where the gaggle of men she calls her close friends are stood, you can see Marco and Luke itching to get their claws in and you have to giggle. This should be interesting.

After instructing the rest of your class to continue practicing the routine you had been working on, you figure it was only fair to come and personally consult your newest joiners.

As the boys (and Nat) notice you wandering towards them, they all begin to elbow each other like school boys giggling amongst themselves. Bob and Nat can only keep their embarrassment internal for so long.

When you come to a stop in front of them, the man you’ve come to learn as Jake smiles dazzlingly and stretches his arms above his head,

“God it is hot in here!” He begins to reach for the bottom of his shirt, aiming to impress you with his toned stomach.

“The A/C is on full blast dumbass.” Nat swats at the back of Jake’s head, causing him to drop his shirt again and rub at his temple. “Ow!”

Snickers fall from Javy and Mickey, who quickly straighten themselves up when they see you casting your eyes over them.

“As I said to Bob last week, with all my new starters I’ll begin with some basics for you guys and then we can ease into a routine,” you smile, heading towards Bradley and Nat.

“Since you two already have some experience you can help me teach!”

Bradley preens under your praise, already assuming the role of teacher’s pet, whilst Nat looks mildly irritated at having to teach her imbecilic friends how to dance.

“Alright guys! let’s partner up!” you shout at them, giggling as they all rush towards you, you note how Bob lingers back behind his more extroverted friends and grin.

“I should clarify, I meant with each other.” You shoo them backwards and watch as they couple up.

Mickey and Reuben clap each other on the back and Javy and Jake nod at one another leaving Bob, stood on his own. You saunter towards him and grab at arm, dragging him to the front with you.

“Looks like you’re with me,” you tease.

“Uh, who do you want me to partner up with?” Bradley scratches at his head obliviously.

You cock your head to the side with a confused laugh.

“I hate you so much right now,” Nat spews, gripping Bradley’s arm and pulling him into position with her.

“Oh, yeah. Right, sorry Nat.” Bradley chuckles.

Your lessons continues with explaining how someone will have to take the lead and the other will follow, and you wander around positioning their hands and postures correctly.

“Javy, you are like a brother to me, but your hands are too fucking low right now.” Jake grits through this teeth.

“Right! Ha, sorry man,” Javy’s hands shoots back up towards the middle of Jake’s back.

Bob is still apprehensive when he places his hands on your waist, but you’re quick to affirm him in his position. Leaning towards him you whisper, “don’t worry you’re still my favourite.”

A smile graces his face at that and he relaxes in your grip.

“Right guys! We’re gonna start with some turns and variations now!”

You quickly learn that trying to wrangle these men is proving difficult, as Payback almost spins Fanboy into a wall after zoning out stating at how your hips moved.

“I’m good bro, don’t worry,” Mickey is quick to readjust himself, hoping the room stops spinning soon.

You can’t help but laugh when Javy attempts to dip Jake to the floor in a move he thought would impress you, but it seems he forgot to account for how tall and heavy Jake is, as he goes toppling down with him.

“Fuck dude! You’re heavy!” Javy groans, rubbing his knee. Jake clearly didn’t take kindly to his words as he shoves back at Javy childishly.

“Boys! Come on get up!” You snap, trying to sound stern but still fighting off giggles.

Jake and Javy are quick to get back on their feet, but you catch them in your peripheral poking and pinching each other when they think you aren’t looking.

Even Bradley who was so light on his feet when he was showing you his moves earlier, is clearly distracted, constantly stepping on Nat’s feet as they practice variations.

“If you step on my toe one more time, Rooster I swear to God, you will not see daylight again,” Nat threatens.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! She’s just so…” Bradley trails off as he watches you dance slowly with Bob, stopping every now and then to correct him kindly or answer questions from others in your class.

“I know! And you guys are scaring her off by acting crazy.” Nat sighs, moving back as she senses Bradley’s feet heading for her toes again.

“I mean I wouldn’t say crazy…” Bradley scratches the back of his neck.

“Well I walked in to see you spinning her around like you’re a pro on dancing with the stars so maybe you should reevaluate.”

“You think I’m that good?” Bradley smirks to himself.

“Oh shut up,” Nat rolls her eyes and looks back to the rest of her friends around the room.

Payback and Fanboy were continually stumbling around in circles as they each try to catch your eye, pissing off everyone else in the room as they bumped and knocked into others. She caught Marco and Luke’s judgy eyes flicking back and forth between her and her friends and groaned.

Jake and Javy looked either one wrong move away from fucking or fighting, Nat couldn’t really tell.

God this was embarrassing.

Luckily, your voice rings out across the room, interrupting her moping.

“Thank you guys for today! And Thank you to my newcomers!” you gesture to the group of men stumbling over each other and stifle a laugh.

“I’ll see you all next week!”

Your regular attenders start filing out slowly, some coming over to chat and collect their things. You can see Nat trying to drag her friends away out they seem intent on lingering long enough to catch some time alone with you.

“You guys might as well go, she clearly wants me.” Jake shrugs, pulling the front of his shirt up to wipe his face.

Mickey is quick to dispute, “Are you kidding me? I twirled like a ballerina, I’m so in.”

Nat is moments away from body slamming her friends who she once loved when it goes silent around her. She figures you finally made you way over.

“Hey guys, thanks so much for joining today! I’m really sorry I’ve got to get going but um- ”

You pause and sense eyes on you.

“Bob, I was just wondering if I could get your number?” you smile, walking towards him and squeezing his arm. “You know, to talk about how we can improve your technique,” your reasoning clear as day even with your coverup

“Yeah! Yes, of course I mean,” Bob composes himself, taking your phone with shaking hands and typing in his number.

“Great,” you wink, retrieving your phone, “I’ll text you.”

You end with that, sauntering past the group and waving goodbye to Nat with a knowing look.

Everyone seems stunned by your words, but mostly Bob who blinks slowly, seemingly still in shock by your acknowledgement.

Nat finally breaks into laughter, doubling over at the confused faces of her other friends.

“Man!” She shouts through her giggles, “you just cannot make that shit up!”

The grumbles around her don’t even phase her as she goes to pick up her bag and head for the door, a group of downtrodden looking men following her and Bob with a newfound pep in his step.

“By the way Rooster, how come you actually are so good?” Nat asks as they make their way into the parking lot.

Bradley stills, silent as he contemplates answering.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to not go searching for anything.” He looks around at his friends.

Following their nods he continues, “I used to compete professionally, when I was like 13, my mom forced me to.” Bradley cringes at the memory of his tween self in sparkly shirts his mom always hand picked out for him in the most hideous colours.

Bradley looks back up to see Jake grinning mischievously at his phone, and his stomach drops.

“Is this you?” Jake smirks, turning his phone around to show everyone an old video on youtube titled.

SALSA NATIONALS 1999 - BRADSHAW / DONNA SUMMER HOT STUFF

Bob suddenly felt as though his coughing fit over you wasn’t the most embarrassing thing he had to witness anymore.

a/n: it is great to be back gang xx i’ve missed writing and ofc i had to bring back the bob agenda!! it’s what i stand for :) i’m thinking mayhaps a part 2 where i explore the dynamic between sexy salsa teacher and bob bc atm this was just a chance for me to make fun of the daggers 😣

i hope you enjoyed reading and tysm!!

pls reblog, comment or drop me an ask and tell me what you thought!! feedback means sm to me considering i’m a lil rusty

anyways thank u again for reading!!!!

- honey xoxo

[danopdf]

Richard Winters x Reader [getting lost on D-Day]

Proceed with caution! warnings: swearing, kidnapping, allusions to assault (physical and sexual), blood, usual bofb warnings

When you jumped out of that plane on D-Day your entire stick was scattered just like everybody else

So instead of wandering around aimlessly, you gathered up a few men from various divisions until you could make your way to the rally point and get back with Easy.

But when your group was passing through a more marshy area, when your entire group (about 10 men) was ambushed, and before you could even raise your M1 you had been tackled and with a few swift punches were out cold

You woke up in a dark, dingy basement that was damp enough for the cold to be seeping through your uniform and into your bones

Your hands are tingling as all the blood leaves them from being suspended above you, tied around some rafter

With blurry vision you tried to search the room, trying to see if any of the Germans that had kidnapped you were still around but it was so dark you had to use the flash of a bomb dropping to catch even a glimpse of the room

There are three other men in the room, all tied up and hung from the beams in the same kneeling position that you are

The door to the basement opens, and the harsh sound of German laughter floods down the stairs, followed by the heavy sound of boots and the soft light of a lamp, stretching their shadows across the walls.

======

Dick has barely been able to concentrate the past three days, not having any idea where you could be and hearing nothing about you from the other Easy men who had all finally gathered at the rally point- hell he’d even found Lewis before he found you

“Nix! Have you seen y/n?”

“They haven’t checked in yet?”

“No, nobody’s seen them since they got in with their stick, and none of those men know where they are either.”

Dick can barely concentrate because he‘s terrified that everybody that he sees hanging from a tree or lying face down in the mud is going to be yours

During Brecourt Dick thinks he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he freezes, Carwood has to drag him back into the trench because he almost gets shot right through the helmet

After that, he tries to push thoughts of you to the back of his mind

He tries compartmentalizing it to make what may be news of your death easier to deal with but if anything it just hurts him more because he doesn’t want to push the thoughts of you away

======

You can’t tell how long it’s been since you dropped, but every time you get dragged up from the basement into one of the rooms it’s always night, or the drapes are drawn so tight you can’t tell if daytime has ever existed

The first few days you spent praying for someone- for Dick- to find you but after days of being beaten, bruised, touched, cut, and interrogated you want nothing more than the sweet relief of death

‘The others got the bliss of fading away in the night or a short-tempered captain, why can’t I get the same? Because you have to wait for Dick, he wouldn’t leave you and he wouldn’t want you to give up, you’re stronger than this.’

You just hoped that this town was one that's meant to be liberated, and not destroyed, but if the ever-encroaching sound of artillery being dropped is anything to go by, you may not be so lucky

======

Dick knows they’re running behind, but that’s what happens when you meet a bunch of Germans who don’t know when to quit

They were supposed to take the small town a week after dropping, but due to some overly enthusiastic resistance, it's been nearly two weeks since they dropped, since Dick lost you

He had sent most of the Easy men to start clearing houses and rallying up prisoners when his small meeting with Lewis gets interrupted by a voice yelling separately for Gene, who comes blazing around the corner already grabbing gauze from his pack

======

You heard the sounds of gunfire and grenades close enough that it made dust fall over your greasy hair and bloodied face, and you just hoped that it was the sound of the Allies winning and not them being the ones to flee

Twenty minutes after the gunfire and yelling had stopped the sound of heavy footsteps floods the house above, and muffled voices talking, kicking open doors firing off a few single shots

The door to the basement wrenches open and two sets of heavy boots descend the stairs

You flinch and pray that if it’s the Germans again this time they just kill you

Wincing as the flashlight passes over the room, scanning over the other bodies that have flies swarming them and landing on you- the only soldier left with your arms hanging from the rafters, bloodied and broken like a slaughterhouse pig

Steeling yourself you look toward the bright light and your body nearly gives out when you hear a familiar voice say

“L/n? Holy shit.”

And then the quick scuffle of boots as the same voice demands

“George go get Doc- and Winters, get Winters!”

The heavy footsteps come toward you and when a large hand reaches out to touch you, you flinch and your bleary eyes shoot open

“Hey, hey you’re alright, I’m gonna let you down, alright?”

By the time your vision clears enough to make out the person in front of you, your hands are freed from the rafter and you’re slumping forward into their arms

‘Toye?” Your throat is scratchy and dry from crying and being denied water for ‘misbehaving’ (biting an officer's hand hard when he tried to touch you)

“Yeah it’s me l/n, we’re here, we’ve got you.”

You haven't seen anyone good in weeks and you were no more than a few hours away from bashing your head off the wall until it all went away, but now here you are being held by a friend- a brother, and he’s so gentle, and caring

The second you can actually move your numb arms again you’re wrapping them around his shoulders and holding him as tight as you can, digging your bloody fingers into the fabric of his uniform as you start to shake and dob, but nothing comes out with how dehydrated you are

“Let’s get you out of here y/n”

Joe carefully wraps one arm around your waist and on shaky legs you start toward the exit, stumbling up the stairs, and blinking hard as the first bits of dull grey light seep through the windows

You know you shouldn’t be, but when you have to step over one of the men’s bodies to get out the door you feel a sense of relief and you give him a small kick as you lift your boot (which Joe sees but doesn’t say anything beyond a small amused huff)

You slowly step out onto the top step of the house and have to cover your eyes from the bright light of the dull grey sky- a sky that you haven’t seen in weeks

Taking a deep breath Toye stands beside you watching the way you tear up. Your lip quivers and suddenly you drop, and his hands are reaching out to guide you as gently as he can to the ground

Fast footsteps come around the corner and suddenly you’re being gently coaxed away from Joe’s chest and into the awaiting arm of Gene, whose eyes are scanning over you quickly and his hands are already reaching for a rag and water to both clean you and for you to shakily take sips of

More footsteps round the corner and more of Easy forms a cautious semi-circle around the front steps where you’re leaning against Joe’s chest and Gene is wiping caked-on blood away from the many cuts and bruises along your weak body

You’re practically asleep in Joe’s arms with the knowledge that you’re now safe, but you bolt upright (much to the gentle complaint of Gene) when you hear a series of fast, heavy footsteps and the commanding call of

“Where are they? Move, move!”

And suddenly there he is, pushing through the crowd of Easy men

“Dick.” You breathe softly, your raw voice cracking when he stands in front of you, taking in how different you look and how frail you’ve become since you last saw each other right before jumping out of those goddamn planes

He pulls off his helmet and drops next to you, pulling you away from both the others and into his arms, arms that you’ve missed so much

“I thought I lost you.”

You burst into tears, finally having some water in your system (thanks to Gene who forced you to drink, and thanks to Skip who immediately passed over his canteen)

Dick cards his fingers through your gross hair and plants soft reassuring kisses along your brow and down until he softly kisses your chapped lips

The kiss tastes more like blood than him but it’s still the most comforting kiss that you’ve had in weeks, and it’s Dick that’s kissing you, in front of everyone with not a care in the world other than making sure you’re comfortable and safe

“You found me.”

Slowly Dick slide into the spot that Toye had been in, holding you tight against his chest and wrapping you in his arms, allowing Gene to keep working on wiping away the blood and grime so he can fix you up

Most of the men disperse after realizing the intimacy of the moment, and the rest leave the second Dick tucks his head between your shoulder and jaw, and he sighs shakily

The entire time Gene is patching you up Dick is whispering soft words into your ear, reassuring you that you’re safe and that he’s not going to let anything happen to you again

Gene helps Dick carefully bring you back to the aid station that is being set up, so that he can do a more in-depth check-up, and the entire time Dick is next to you, holding your hand

When the time comes for you to give a statement of sorts on what happened to you over the few weeks that you were missing, Dick does not let go of your hand

Maybe he cries a little when he hears all that you went through, but that fact doesn’t leave the room

After you’re interviewed, checked over, and had a good cry while in the shower (that Dick sits outside of and holds your hand through the gap in the curtain so you’re not alone), Lewis tells Dick that he had commandeered a house for you two and that he had even found a real bed with pillows and a few blankets

Dick spends the entire night wrapping you in his arms and holding you as close as he can without you two merging together

You don’t say much other than just repeating how much you love each other

You fall asleep quickly in the safety of his arms and with his soothing heartbeat under your ears

Until the moment Dick falls asleep he is whispering promises into the crown of your head

“I’m not going to let anything else happen to you ever again, I promise.”

[speirslore]

when you get hurt hcs [officers + roe]

a/n: requested <3 usually in my writing the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in a vague way bc i know ppl have different preferences but some of these include getting shot (not graphic or anything) so ig that implies they're on the front lines

lmk if you would like to be on my taglist! @ronsparky @bcon24 @blueberry-ovaries @1waveshortofashipwreck

[dick winters]

you hit your head prettyyyy hard, and you're out of it, probably definitely concussed

it happens right in front of dick and he tries really hard to keep calm

he wants to be strong and level-headed for you

shows more obvious affection then any of the men have ever seen from him; pets your hair, holds your hand, is always by your side

he immediately gets you a medic and transported to an aid station and doesn’t want to leave you

but when dick's back with easy, he gets uncharacteristically easily angry and frustrated...

he gets quiet and withdrawn and a little snappy with zelensky and nix... and they both immediately know why

whenever he can go see you, he's there.. he even gets behind on all his paperwork (but nix offers to help)

which dick is hesitant to accept for many reasons, he feels guilty, like he's not focusing on his duties but lew is always good at keeping the reports concise lol

very fragile with you, he isn't underestimating you but he just absolutely does not want to push you or hurt you

is a stickler for the rules, follows absolutely everything the doctor says

he has to wake you up every few hours and you keep insisting it’s unnecessary and dick is absolutely not having it

you try to get up and move around and all dick has to hear is the sheets moving and he just gives you that stare, a little bit like a disappointed mom, and you're right back laying down

he’s way more clingy than usual, wants to be by your side, subtly holding your hand

in that moment it definitely hits him how much he loves and cares about you... he hasn't really had time or space to process those feelings until now <3

[lewis nixon]

it does not look good at first

it's really scary for everyone there, you loose a lot of blood and lose consciousness

lew is not there when you're first shot in the leg and everyone is very glad that he didn't have to see it

but when he finds out... oh he is not keeping cool, is not pretending even a little bit to be okay

starts lashing out and snaps at the driver who's taking him to the hospital to drive faster, mad that they didn't tell him sooner, mad that you were injured, mad at the war, furious at absolutely everything

lew has to be monitored by dick not to go full self destruction mode and get incredibly drunk

he hates just sitting with the constant uncomfortable feeling and reminder that you're hurting

he will not leave your side at first when you’re sleeping a lot, on a lot of medicine, and out of it

one nurse does approach him when he's the only vistor in the hospital left, "sir, the visiting hours-"

he just looks up, obviously devastated, voice cracking, "i'm can't leave. you can drag me out but i'm not going, thanks."

they back off after that

does go through a phase where he hates going once you're more conscious because he kills him to see you like that and face this feels irrational guilt he feels for not being there

because he definitely has the tendency to avoid his problems and things that hurt him

but it hurts you too and you don't fully understand

you look up at dick and harry, slightly delirious from the morphine, tearing up, "does he not want to see me anymore?"

after that they do drag lew to see you and you just straight up tell him feeling guilty is pointless and not fair to himself (or you)

and then it's right back to not leaving your side and always trying to make you laugh or smile

[ron speirs]

okay so i love the angel of the company x speirs trope

by now he's the co of easy and your relationship is a widely known secret...

he assigns you and the group of other men to a patrol... it wasn't an overly risky or bad order, a standard order from sink

but you guys make contact and you're shot in the arm

it just absolutely wrecks him

the guys feel like he's just going to go across enemy lines and find the soldier that shot you himself

the rest of the guys are furious too because everyone just absolutely loves you

for a short time, he's mad at the other soldiers on the patrol and you have to reminder him they didn't do anything wrong

but ron is really just irrationally mad at himself for not being there, for not being psychic, he's just angry he somehow didn't stop this

ron is not controlling and not possessive and he knows you can hold your own but he feels responsible for taking care of you and making sure you're safe

even if he can't quite articulate all of those feelings yet

he doesn't understand all the emotions he feels and doesn't even have time to try to understand them

he listens so attentively to the doctors, he can recite everything they've said word for word

like with chuck, he demands the absolute best from the doctors

this incident shows his more compassionate side and the guys start to see how much he really cares about you... bc they're protective of you too!

you have to comfort him and his voice breaks

and he feels weak and he feels bad that you're comforting him and not the other way around

"i'm messing everything up, doing everything wrong," he says more to himself but you frown, eyebrows furrowed and everything

"you're so hard on yourself, ron. when it's not your fault, it was routine, you didn't shoot me. then i'd be really pissed." you smile and he smiles weakly... but he's on edge for a longgg time after this

[carwood lipton]

unfortunately you and lip just cannot catch a break

your leg gets injured while he has pneumonia

it's not a major injury but a bullet ricocheted off of a wall and slightly grazed you and you need a few days of staying off of it

lip really tries to be comforting

and wants to be there for you and he is!

but it's very hard for him, he just wants you to be okay so badly, even when he himself isn't okay

trying to lecture you about staying off of your leg and asking others for help but breaking out into a coughing fit and then you're trying to help him sit up and to go get some hot water for him

and then he's back to telling you to stop and starts hoarsely calling for luz

it's a MESS

but carwood is a natural caretaker and has been one for most of his life

it makes him hover sooo badly especially because since he's sick too he doesn't have a lot of work to keep him busy

but you're not complaining honestly, it's nice to have more private time and something of a break, even if you're both miserable

you get the special privilege of an actual private back bed room with a mattress and blankets

kind of a bonding experience

you just laugh because what the fuck

it's kind of romantic, first time in a longgg time in an actual bed together

you just go back and forth talking about your future and the life you want after the war

"i don't like this wallpaper," you murmur into his chest

he laughs and that turns into coughing again and you're just rubbing his back trying not to bend your leg... domestic bliss <3

[buck compton]

buck... does not take it well

he takes it extremely hard

like his reaction to joe and bill...

you have pneumonia and the peniciln you need isn't available in bastogne

and it's even worse that he finds out you're sick only a few hours after that and that you've been sick and struggling for the past few days

maybe his reaction would've been different earlier on in the war

but now, it just feels like a destructive domino effect that's sparing no one

it's obvious after all of his friends injuries and your pneumonia that he couldn't stay on the front line... his red bleary eyes and slightly trembling hands said enough

when he gets taken off the line, you're both in an aid station together for a few hours before you're both transferred to different hospital

so his presence is silent reassurance

you want so badly to comfort him but you're so sick and he doesn't want you to, he feels so guilty leaving you

but you hoarsely tell him he needs a break and to process what happened

you're feeling slightly better this day so that makes it a little better... but not that much

both of you have been through hell

but there is a light in the tunnel... or at least you feel that way

buck isn't on the front lines anymore and you both have a chance at a life together post-war

he does not want to leave you, it has to take a lot of malarkey's coaxing him and promising to update buck

[eugene roe]

gene can't decide if having medical knowledge makes it better or worse

and if being the medic and being the one to have their hands covered in the your blood, was better than leaving it in the hands of someone else

he decides it's awful... definitely worse

the very few hours he slept, it was just dreaming of your terrified face

and he wakes with a jolt and is completely miserable

and life just goes on...

a lot of pacing and murmuring

gene closes in on himself when he's upset and stressed, so he becomes even quieter than normal

and the other guys are worried like ??? do we need to intervene and lip just stops them, "leave him alone, he'll be okay."

prays for you a lot, gripping his rosary so tightly and the photo that he has of the two of you when you were still in england

when you both felt some semblance of normalcy

he can't abandon the company to stay with you full time at the aid station to his incredible frustration and disappointment

it's just hard for him to go on like everything's fine, it shatters whatever illusion he has of fairness and hope and safety

whenever someone else gets injured or they need supplies, he'll take any excuse to ride back to the aid station to see you

and if anyone else goes, they always see you and give gene an update

winters definitely notices and tries to give him opportunities to see you

likes watching you rest and sleep (because you definitely needed it, even before you got injured) in the sweetest, non-creepy way

gene loves to just sit with you, see you with his own eyes, and know for certain that you're okay

[stvharrngton]

kinktober: day three

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

kink: hair pulling

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, slightly dom!reader and sub!steve

word count: 0.9k

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Steve swore you did it on purpose.

He swore that you wore that skimpy little skirt that barely covered your ass on your date only to tease him. The pleats of the white pleats so innocently tickling your bare thighs, the doughy flesh so soft and inviting. He tried to stop his eyes from wandering every five minutes, soon realising that he was no better than any other sleazy guy, but it was no use.

He told you no less on the drive back to his apartment, leaned over the centre console and whispered right in your ear that you’d been driving him crazy all night, that he couldn’t wait to get you home and get between your legs, in a few words or less.

You found yourself pressed up against the wall of Steve’s living room, curtains still wide open from before he left, the glow of the moon illuminating your skin in a white light. His soft lips kissing over any exposed skin he could find; your neck, your collarbone, your cleavage. 

Hands clutching at Steve’s broad shoulders, you gently pushed the boy until he was on his knees before you. He blinked up at you, all wide eyed and feverish, his pretty pink lips parted ever so slightly. Steve’s large hands gripped your thighs before he soon got the hint, reaching up to pull your panties down until they pooled at your ankles.

Threading your fingers through his soft chestnut locks, your eyes fluttered closed as Steve pressed a sweet kiss to the apex of your thighs, urging you to spread your legs a little farther, granting him access to what he really wanted. Steve licked a flat stripe up your pussy, before settling for kitten licks on your throbbing clit.

A pretty little moan escaped your lips, your free hand travelling up your stomach until it settled on your chest, squeezing and groping at your still clothed tits, the other remained rooted in Steve’s hair. You loved the feeling of the boy’s hair beneath your fingertips, his soft tresses giving you something to tug on from time to time when you got between the sheets.

“Fuck,” you mewled, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Steve continued to lick at you. Tongue swirling and sucking in all the right places, making the most obscene noises that were mixed with your whines and whimpers.

Steve hummed against you, his eyes trained on your expression above him. Steve was good at giving head, was good at eating you out, knew everything you liked and exactly how you liked it. But that never stopped him from marvelling at the pleasure he was able to give you.

Before long you had freed your tits from their confines, bra and top shoved down messily, your finger and thumb tweaking your own nipple. You were lost in the way Steve was making you feel, your skin hot and buzzing, your head dizzy, the only thoughts in your head revolved around Steve and his tongue.

Steve wrapped his lips around your clit now, lips sucking harshly on the sweet little bud. “Oh, Stevie,” you cried out, tugging at his hair harshly.

He groaned wildly below you, eyes squeezing shut as Steve dug his fingers into your thighs. Your eyes shot open at the noise, worrying you’d hurt him, your gaze flitting down to where Steve was eating your pussy with more enthusiasm than ever before. 

As if a switch flicked in your brain, you tugged on Steve’s hair again as you rutted your hips back and forth, grinding your cunt on Steve’s mouth. The pressure building in your lower stomach as the metaphorical coil tightened.

“Fuck,” you moaned, placing your one leg over Steve’s shoulder, the boy’s eyes blown out at your movements, “love using you like this, Stevie. Love rubbing my wet little pussy on your mouth ‘til I’m cumming.”

Steve’s lashes fluttered, heat rising to his cheeks as his eyes rolled back. His skin is painted with a pink flush, his mouth and chin messy with your juices. He groaned into your cunt, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine.

You mewled above him, your hips rocking against his mouth, “Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good,” you whined, nails raking over his scalp as you tugged at the strands once more, the boy whimpering into your pussy, “you like that, huh, Stevie?”

He nodded as best he could, his cock straining and aching so hard against his jeans, doing everything in his power not to think about how he needed to sink into you so badly, lest he would bust right there in his jeans. 

“Shit,” the word came out as a strangled moan, your orgasm creeping up on you quickly, “‘m gonna cum, gonna cum all over your mouth an- and then take you upstairs and, fuck, just like that, milk your cock for everything it’s got.”

The tip of his nose stroked your clit with every roll of your hips, the sight below you of his wild hair and warm brown eyes boring into your own gleefully pushed you over the edge. You writhed above him, your head thrown back against the wall and you mumbled and whined a mix of moans and incoherent babble. Steve kept licking and sucking at you until you couldn’t take anymore, gently pushing him to sit back on his hunches.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to catch your breath, your legs still wobbly as you leaned against the wall for purchase. You soon found enough strength to lean down to Steve’s level, taking his chin between your finger and thumb as you kissed him hotly, collecting your own orgasm from his lips.

“Y’gonna take me to bed, Stevie?” you whispered against the boys lips, before sauntering up the stairs, looking back at your boyfriend who you left dumbfounded on the living room floor.

[brokenpieces-72]

Hi, how are you? I was thinking that it would be really cool to have a medic who’s a phoenix with healing tears and maybe can be a combat medic who can “die” on the field only to be reborn again as a chick for a little while then become an adult again. I hope you like it. ❤️

Hi, I’m doing well thank you for asking. Hunter honestly deserves a break from time to time and I’m gonna try to write this character as male, because I don’t have many guys. Sorry this took so long, I honestly wasn't sure how to start, and then I decided on another start and then I had two in the same place. So yeah.

Nix

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

The most annoying thing about your condition is how often you have to deal with resets. A lot of your human regiments took your immortality and healing benefits for granted and often forgot, oh yeah you can still die. At the same time, being on a hybrid team meant most of them have healing factors so your tears didn’t do much.

When you returned for your new placement after getting shot down in the field you found a pleasant surprise. Section Chief Laswell, who you knew by reputation. She was there to give you information on your new station, which you were very pleased with. A couple of humans but mainly hybrids. As a combat medic you could be valuable when it came to injuries that the healing factors couldn’t handle.

This is what you had studied for, your research and work targeted towards hybrids and their autonomy and anatomy. The night before you shipped out you went over each file, twice. Not a single one was the same as the last. A dragon with one wing? If there’s one thing you sadly could heal with was limbs removed to that degree. A wraith was certainly a new one. The research that could be don-no! No. You had to be respectful, and you refused to treat anyone like an experiment. If you wanted to learn more you could do it via observation.

Arriving to base you were met with Captain Price, and the medic, Hunter. They both shook your hand, as you introduced yourself. You noted the shoulder weight on Price, to compensate for the missing wing. Maybe an improvement could be made, but that was something to discuss later on. For the most part you would be in combat, fighting and taking care of injuries on the field. Of course to make your fellow medic’s life easier you came with small dropper vials of your tears.

You would be working with Hunter the closest, who was more than happy to make you feel comfortable. You were escorted to the med bay where there were a few occupied cots and Hunter guided you through each of them. It was the same as any other first day on base, despite your experience. You only correct Hunter when they make obvious mistakes, knowing they were testing your skills. Hunter brought you to a cot with a man who may be one of the tallest you’ve met, passed out on the cot.

“And can you tell me what happened to this patient?” You asked Hunter before they could ask you. Hunter appreciated the playful challenge in your eyes.

“This is one of our KorTac transfers. He’s a Percht hybrid, and he’s recovering from a rampage.”

“Interesting. It happens often?” You asked.

“That he passes out at the end or that he goes on a rampage?” Hunter asked. You gave them a look, that reminded Hunter of their training days. “He passes out after every rampage, but doesn’t always go into one. For the most part his size and skills get him through the field well enough.”

“That must make it easier.” You commented. Hunter nodded.

“How long is the recovery period?” You asked, this time an actual question.

“Depends on various factors.” Hunter said. You assumed as much. Still, quite intriguing. “Once he wakes up though, I have to do routine physicals on each of the hybrids, if you don’t mind assisting.”

“Much more detailed look than any file will provide, I’m sure.” You said.

When Konig wakes up, he is still given a few hours to rest to work off a nasty headache, but he allows you to assist with his check up. You make small chat with him, but it’s clear that headache remains potent. Once you take some measurements and check scars and injuries he’s sent on his way. Decent enough guy.

Horangi is called in next, and as a haetae he’s equally intriguing. At first glance anyone would take it for a tiger hybrid but you’ve already read his file. He’s compliant but a little reserved. Still gives you casual respect, noting you definitely weren’t human. Though your features aren’t very obvious to anyone. Horangi gives you a nod out of courtesy and leaves once his health information is written down.

Price steps in, and when his shirt comes off you see the shoulder weight much more clearly. You can only imagine the amount of force it would take to rip his wing off let alone remove it from the socket completely. You asked the captain if the counter weight was even enough for proper balance. He admits it could be improved but at the same time he’s gotten used to it, and changes could make it a little difficult. You still offered to help him with finding him a better solution and he accepted.

A new pair of wings comes in, and shakes your hand almost immediately, recognizing you as a new face. Kyle commented on your warm hands, which were pleasantly toasty. Yeah you got that a lot. Kyle was curious about you though, noting you didn’t show any wings yourself, despite being a Phoenix. It’s a little more complicated than that, but he doesn’t pry anymore than you are comfortable with.

Johnny takes the seat and makes a few jests towards Hunter, who rolled their eyes. You aren’t afraid to make some comments of your own, which makes Johnny more relaxed around you. Good, you didn’t want to wrestle with a werewolf if you could avoid it. If you could avoid injury that was preferable.

When Simon steps in you feel it first, like there is death close by, simply waiting like a parent at a doctor’s office. You’d read up on Simon before coming to the base and you’d hardly heard of wraiths let alone seen one in person. Right off the bat you ask if questions are okay, and Simon prefers they’re kept to a minimum. You have most of your information from the files, so you simply ask him how he prefers his tea. Simon certainly feels a bit more at ease. You’ve seen plenty of cases in your time, you knew how to make people comfortable.

Next is Rodolfo, who is mostly human. His cadejos are very charming, and you get to give them some belly rubs. Easy, calm and relaxed conversation between you two. He and Hunter seem to be close.

Alejandro comes in and okay dang that’s some muscle. A nagual, a guardian. And Rudy’s husband. Proud of it too. You can understand why.

Finally, you meet the youngest which is Spirit. You offer to leave so she can be examined properly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Hunter ensures she stays covered for the most part and you look away out of respect. Spirit is very excited to lift her shirt, to show you her ribs. Except you find a normal physique. Hunter still encourages her to keep it up, as they continue to examine them. A jackalope hybrid, with a wendigo form. Antlers are a little chipped but healthy enough. She’s sent on her way afterwards.

“Coffee?” You suggested to Hunter.

“Please.” They said.

“Seriously how do you fall out of a helicopter?” You asked Gaz on the roof. Gaz chuckled, shaking his head.

“Very talented my friend.” Gaz told him.

“Yes but when you have wings.” You said.

“Speaking of wings,” Kyle said. “Mind if I ask about yours?”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

“Well they told us you were a Phoenix. Guess I figured you’d have wings, you’re pretty rare specimen.” Gaz explained.

“Oh right. Ha…” you trailed off.

“If it’s a sensitive topic I get it.” Gaz said, you brushed it off.

“No no… I honestly don’t know why.” You said. “I remember being jealous of harpies like you though.”

Gaz’s wings puffed up a little. You smiled, enjoying the short time of peace and quiet. Gaz said, “I’m flattered.”

The team waited with baited breath at the clouded battlefield, waiting for you to return. Hunter stood near by, a stretcher ready to be loaded onto the helicopter. As soon as your silhouette was visible, carrying a barely conscious Rodolfo on your shoulder. You were in no better state, gritting your teeth and ignoring the blood you had. Alejandro and Hunter closed the distance between you and the rest of the team, Alejandro taking Rudy and Hunter catching you as you stumble from the weight being lifted.

As Hunter helps you to the helicopter, the propellers already starting up, you handed her a vial of clear liquid. "For Rudy. It will make his recovery...faster."

Hunter lowered your hand, focusing on getting you inside, and getting home. Rudy was laid on the stretcher, and hoisted in while Price gave you a hand, hauling you up and taking you to a seat. Hunter worked on Rudy first, taking the vial you'd offered. Admittedly Hunter almost didn't believe you, but given Rudy's condition, it was better to take the shot.

You watched, eyes growing tired and your vision blurring. Hunter was a brilliant medic. The eye dropper was used on Rudy's wounds, and healed over quickly. Poor guy would still need to rest as your tears couldn't do much for head injuries unless they were bleeding. You panted in your seat, before stealing a glance down. There were blood stains on your clothes, but you ignore them. You could use a break.

When Price tried to call Hunter over to give you attention, you put a hand on his arm. "I'm good."

"You're going to bleed out." Price argued. You just nodded. Yeah, you were.

"I'll be fine." You insisted. "Please Captain. Been needing a break."

"Hunter?" Price called, seemingly ignoring your wishes. "Just patch 'em up."

Hunter obliged. You weren't going to be leaving anytime soon. Sometimes for you it was easier to just hit the reset button. At least you had some good company, company that valued you for more than just your tears. You rest your head back, fighting to stay awake. Gritting your teeth you warmed your hand up, a soft warm glow appearing on your palm. The hand went to your wounds clotting them, before Hunter could get the bandages out.

“Damn it Nix!” They barked at you. You chuckled through your pain, as they batted your hand away and started to wrap you in gauze. “I could help you more if you would just let me.”

“I know… I know…” you said.

You were helped out of the helicopter by Simon, where you saw the rest of the team waiting. Johnny had a smile on his face until he saw you. Spirit’s face was covered by her hand in shock. Gaz rushed over immediately, taking your other arm to take the weight off Hunter but you shake your head. You were far enough.

“Set me down.” You breathed. Hunter looked at you, hating this part. “I’ll be fine.”

Hunter reluctantly lowered you to the ground, while Kyle stepped back. You turned your head to the side, seeing a sunset. Beautiful. Always beautiful. You overhear Spirit asking what was going on. Her concern was sweet. A deep breath and you shut your eyes. Another good ending.

The team looked on as your body burst into flames. Spirit gasped, eyes wide watching you burn. Johnny held her back, looking on as if it were just another campfire. Price folded his arms, wing going around Kyle on instinct. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, seeing someone they had come to care about, burning in front of them. Luckily it was also quick. Your body became a pile of ash.

“I hate it when he does that.” Hunter commented.

“It’s his choice.” Price reminded them. Doesn’t mean Hunter had to like it.

“What… what happened?” Spirit asked confused. She hadn’t seen you reset before, you’d only been back on the team for a short while, having been called to other assignments. Johnny let Spirit go, while Kyle approached the ashes.

“I’ll show you.” He said, gesturing for Spirit to approach. The jackalope came over seeing the pile of ash start to shift. “Come on you bald chicken, come on out.”

Your beak poked out of the ash your head following with it. Spirit gasped while Kyle smiled. You felt his finger stroke your head. You let out a happy chittering sound. “There he is.”

“I’ll get a blanket.” Hunter said.

The best part of your rebirth is probably the pampering. You already asked Kyle to show Spirit what to do before the mission. Kyle was fine with playing nursemaid, and giving Spirit some extra education.

“He remembers everything? Even though he died?” She asked while you were looking back at her in your blanket nest.

“Everything.” Kyle told her. “Only thing that changes is his age. He grows quickly from hatchling, and then it’s a matter of shifting back to human. By that point he’s an adult.”

“Never seen a phoenix before.” Spirit commented, resting her head on the table. You leaned over and nibbled at her nose, making her giggle. You got gentle strokes to beak as a reward.

It didn't take too long for you to get your feathers back. It let you take off, enough for some branching and practice, but not much distance yet. Spirit helped you by letting you ride on her antlers around the base. She was very careful, doing constant check ins to make sure you didn't fall off. If you weren't on Spirit's antlers you were riding somebody's shoulder. Except Simon's.

You don't feel safe around Simon in such a vulnerable state. If you had your human form, you would be fine. Simon is also fine with this. You're a phoenix, they're not very comfortable around undead, and technically speaking he is undead. Your skills against thralls and vampires were enough to satisfy him. Johnny is often in the same room anyways, so having a wolf as a mediator even with just his presence put you more at ease.

Hunter keeps you close as well. It's been a while since your last regeneration, so they take advantage to study you and any changes you might have in behaviour and personality. You don't mind, they don't needles to you except for any vaccinations they deem necessary. The other medics find your presence a treat, getting to greet you, and admire the beautiful warm colours of your feathers coming in.

Once you're able to fly a bit better, you often start to wake up Hunter. It's getting colder and the heating unit on base isn't exactly perfect, so some areas on the base are still chilly. You give off enough body heat that Hunter can pull on a hoodie, put you in the large packet, and have a couple minutes to warm up before getting their coffee. Sometimes Hunter puts the hoodie around your nest to heat it up over night.

Once Hunter has their morning coffee, you take off to wake the others. You land in front of Simon's door and let out a small cry. Simon doesn't always sleep, but rather he tries to relax in his room. Once there is movement, you move on to the next one. If Johnny isn't in Simon's room or outside after a full moon, you find him next. There's only so many places Johnny can be a full wolf inside, and the cold doesn't bother him, but Simon will open his door for you so you can nestle up next to him before letting off some extra heat. You may or may not nudge him with your beak, hey! No rolling over! Come on!

You're not quite heavy enough, and your talons can't grip the handle or knobs properly. First time you woke Simon he suggested he help you with your wake up calls. You didn;t object, and saw it as a trust excerise, since Johnny will help you if he's sharing a room with Simon for the night.

Alright, Kyle is next. Sometimes he's already awake or he's with the captain. Simon lets you in, and you fly over. Kyle is a harpy and therefore has some bird tendencies, include his wings covering his face a bit when he sleeps. You find an opening easily enough to wake him. Once your hear a soft morning from him you're able to get him out of bed. You let him wake up on his own, before heading out of the room and on to the next one.

Spirit is a typical teenager, and will try to ignore you like Johnny. That is if she doesn't try to curl up with you like a plushie. You land, wake her, and as soon as she reaches for you, you're off again. Spirit tends to get dressed and showered before eating breakfast anyways. You leave her to it.

You don't go to Konig if he's had a rampage the day before. He needs rest and he's unconscious. After the red mist he can make you aren't about to bother him. Konig is a gentle giant sure, you ride his shoulder any time the medics are uneasy around him to make them feel safe. You don't want to try to force him awake if you don't have to, and usually his rampages land him in the medbay anyways. Today you could wake him, and its the same as most, but you don't have to warm him up much. You get a warm greeting from him though as he drags himself out of bed.

You don't like waking up Horangi. Why? Because sometimes he's a jerk. More than once you've gone in to wake him, found his bed empty and are met with a haetae looking at you like Lucifer looks at a cornered mouse in Cinderella. You've taken to just letting out a call outside his door. One time you did this and Horangi opened the door ready to pounce and spook you. You retreated and let out a cry at him. Horangi was pretty smug, right up until he saw Simon close by, staring him down. Yeah, he stopped after that.

Alejandro and Rodolfo share a room, so not as much work. You can let out a call from hallway and they'll take a couple minutes. The two warm each other up, no issues there. You've gone in before and landed behind Alejandro, pecking at his back to wake him. Didn't work, he nearly rolled on top of you. If you hadn't cried out when you did, jolting him awake, you might have had some bent feathers. You go inside today though, as Rudy's injuries are still a little rough. It can take longer for him to fall asleep, and Alejandro struggles with sleep as a part of it. You're able to hop on to the bed, hop on to Rudy and land between them. You nudge Rudy first, who gives you some pets to get himself moving. Rudy then wakes the colonel, and you're on to the last one.

Price sleeps well enough but sometimes you find him sleeping on his desk or sitting next to his bed going over some files. Workaholic. Simon tries to scold him about it but well, it's not really scolding. More just commenting. Simon cracks open the door and you poke your head in. WOO! He's sleeping! You almost don't want to wake him. But you have to. The advantage here is that you can wamr up with him, because as a dragon hybrid he's pretty warm. You can nestle with him for a bit, giving him a couple miniutes before you wake him. Price groaned once you were comfortable. He saw you, and got out of bed, picking you up, and holding you to his core, where his body was the hottest.

Kyle takes you up to the roof anytime he relaxes up there. All he has to do is find you call "Nix". You know where you're going, and you'll fly over immediately. You get to relax with him outside and sometimes go for a flight yourself, with Kyle watching or joining you. It gives you a chance to brush up on your hunting skills. Mice and rats weren't uncommon to find. Spirit comes out with you guys as well, laying back and staring up at you while you fly over head.

Another life another cycle. It can feel tedious, and one day you'll probably end up doing something else. For now you have good people, and safe space. It took time to find this, to build it. You weren't about to walk away from it. If only it could have been that easy.

You had gone with the team to an outpost, a temporary set up for a mission. You still weren't shifting, not that you couldn't but it wasn't an ideal form. If you did shift to human it would be very young and very vulnerable. You didn't want to reset before you had to, and a kid was an easy target. A juvenile phoenix? That would require more stopping power.

"Wheels up at 0500 tomorrow. Prep your gear, eat, rest up, and we move out." The captain ordered. You made a chirping sound to get his attention once the team dispersed. Price offered his arm for you, giving you a chance to fly over and land on him. You inch up to his good shoulder nuzzle the back of his ear befoire looking at him expectantly. The Captain recognized that look. You were very expressive for a bird.

"Nix you'll be staying behind." He told you. You squawked in protest, your feathers puffing. The captain sighed. "Nix, you'll provide overwatch with Gaz."

You wanted to do more, but without a human form, you had some limitations. At least as overwatch you could still do some work as a medic. Price got to work prepping his gear with you close by, either perched somewhere or on his shoulder. If you noticed someone looking for something, you brought it to them. You noticed Simon was tense and you already knew why. The location of the mission had some heavy memories for him. Hell even Price wasn't sure about coming. You noticed the scope to his rifle was missing as he was assembling the weapon. It was under the bench. You flew over to him, your bright colours catching his eye. Simon watched as you retrieved the missing piece and flapped up, onto the bench. The scope was in your talons as you out a soft chirp. Simon took the scope and you nudged his leg. Your tears could heal a lot, but emotional and mental wounds? Not so much.

"Thanks Nix. Stay safe yeah?" He told you. You stay safe? You were more worried about him.

Downside of being a phoenix - well you already know the downsides - everyone wants a phoenix. Hybrid trafficking is a thing as well, with some sick tickets enjoying the idea of having hybrids for pets. A phoenix has extra benefits, with healing tears. There has been entire debates and conferences on phoenix tears and whether it should be allowed to be bought and sold in pharmaceuticals. As for your feathers that's a whole other issue and has long since been deemed illegal to traffick real ones. Not that poachers would care.

The mission had been going fine, you were keeping an eye out for wounded human soldiers from above. It was like watching a maze being solved by multiple lines, and just as chaotic. Kyle had been called to the ground to assist a team, leaving you to take care of another wounded soldier. As soon as you landed next to him, you were grabbed. You didn't have an ear piece so no one heard your distress. The next thing you know, you're uncermoniously stuffed in a bag, and dragged off.

When you awoke you were in a bird cage which you would never stop finding humiliating. This wasn't the furst time either, but you were more irritated by the fact that it had happened when you were trying to help someone. That being said you know better than to thrash against your cage, knowing they would try to restrain you further to preserve your feathers. To make matters worse you recognized the voice of the person who had caught you.

Valeria stood there staring at you. You tilted your head at her, remaining calm and avoiding too focused of a gaze. Gorgon hybrids were familiar enough to you. You could avoid mind control well enough, including hers. The question was if she recognized you as well. You were younger than when she previously saw you, and it was at a distance.

"Did you check for a tag?" She asked. The two men who'd caught you shared a look, and she sighed face palming. You weren't sure whether to pity them or laugh at them for such a rookie mistake. You did have a tag on you, Price had insisted on it. The way she went off on the two of them, holy crap. The fact she didn't turn them to stone right then and there was surprising.

"Out. I'll deal with you later." She hissed at them. That wasn't even a pun. Her attention was back on you, and you puffed up your feathers. The way she was staring at you was... kind of odd. If anything she seemed to be admiring you. I mean what was there to be disgusted by? You couldn't help but detect something else behind her eyes. The snakes didn't seem bothered by you.

"You could give me so much." Valeria commented. Fuck, not what you ever wanted to hear in this situation. You squawked in warning at her, almost challenging her to try something. She just smirked. "If only Graves were here, I might just set you on him. Maybe you could get him to shift gears."

She sighed seeing you bristle. "But you're with that pack of misfits... hmph... I'll take advantage of what time I have before they come to collect you."

As soon as you saw a few figures approaching with gloves, you started to thrash. Not again. You wouldn't let this happen again.

"Nix... Nix can you hear me?"

You were a pitiful sight. A number of feathers had been plcked from you, and your eyes were dry and sore.

"Can you hear me... try to move if you can..."

That voice. Spirit. You heard a couple more but they were further away. You tried to force your eyes open, but all you felt was still air on them. There was a crack of light but not enough to make out anything.

"Hunter.... he needs help!"

"Shit... come on Nix don't make me do this the easy way... really hate doing that... stay with us."

Tired... you were just tired and sore. You can feel gloves again, and you try to scratch back with your talons.

"Hold him down..."

"Yep." You felt leather holding your legs.

"Gently."

"I'm trying."

Something is laid next to you, you feel the edge brush against you. very gently you're awkwardly placed into something soft. You thrash at first, your mind still alert, but the voices assure you everything will be okay. It was all going to be okay... sleep... you wanted... sleep...

Hunter wasted no time getting you back to the med bay, getting you fixed up. They hadn't hesitated to break some things, and extracting your tears was done with little care for your well being. You felt something cover your head and you relaxed, realizing it was over.

Sleep returned to you while Hunter did their best to fix you up. As always, a remarkable job was done. You were placed in Spirit's room in a warm nest made of blankets and a hoodie. Recovery would be slow but you didn't need a reset. Not this time. You didn't want one either. When you woke back up you heard the team talking.

"His wings were broken, his eyes are dry and primary feathers were removed..." Kyle said, repeating the information Hunter had given them.

"Literal no fly list." Spirit commented.

"Having his eyes bandaged for now is the safest, so he'll need extra assistance around base." Hunter mentioned. "If he chooses to stay on base during the recovery period."

"I hate to mention it, but if Nix were to reset...

"No." Hunter said immediately. "I'm not about to do a reset."

"Could... someone else do it?" Spirit asked, her tone hesitant.

"I'm the only one with the training to do it, if anyone else does it on the team, it could be considered... no." Hunter trailed off before putting their foot down. Hippocratic oaths didn't cover phoenixes, and Hunter was strongly against being the reason you reset.

"Nix will still recover." Simon spoke up. "Just extra time."

"That settles it." Price said, before anybody could object. Not that anyone would. You fell back asleep hearing that.

The next time you awoke, you felt large hands take hold of you. You stayed calm, feeling yourself pressed to a warm chest. You were carried out of the bedroom and into a more communal space. The bandages remained over your eyes. You knew it would be while until you could see properly again.

"Hunter wants to give you some eye drops." You heard Price say softly. You let out a soft cooing sound, showing your appreciation. The team had to put in extra effort to help you recover, and they were choosing to do so. You heard Price and Hunter talking quietly, with Spirit asking if she could help.

"Keep your eyes shut, I'll tell you when to open them." Spirit said while Hunter instructed her on how to apply the eye drops. When the bandage was removed, you couldn't register much light. Hunter was doing this to protect your eyes. Gentle, latex fingers took off your bandages. Spirit asked you to open one eye and the drops were applied. It was a welcome relief until you could produce more natural tears. The other eye was treated and a new bandage was applied. This would take some time before you could see again.

Once Spirit said you were finished, Price took you to get fed, letting you locate the food yourself. You heard Kyle come into the room. You replied to his entrance with a friendly chirp. After you filled up on spices and fruit extracts Price picked you back up.

Price laid back and placed you on his chest where his heat was the strongest. The warmth was a great comfort, and you nestled in. You told yourself, when you could properly shift to a human state, you would thank him, and apologize for being so reckless. In maybe a week or so you would be around Spirit's age, and by the end of the month you would be an adult. By that point you should have your feathers back, and be able to see properly.

For now, you rested against the captains warm chest, trying to rest again. Those sickos had left their mark though. It wasn't long before you started to fidget and needed to be woken up again. Kyle woke you, taking you off Price's hands so he could get to work on his reports. You let out a startled tweet, your feathers puffing again.

"I got ya Nix. You're safe here." Kyle assured you. If only could see it for yourself.

Your blindfold stayed on until you could shift to an adult. It had come with some difficulties, and you shifted to human a few times before if only to make navigation a little easier. Spirit spent plenty of time with you, helping you walk around. Hunter insisted on a human state to get better adjusted to walking around with assistance.

Despite Hunter's intentions, König would pick you up and take you to whereever you need to go. You weren't much heavier than Spirit anyways. Horangi's antics against you stopped as soon as he learned what had happened. You didn't know at the time, but if he overheard someone making comments about your vision, he made the room foggy with his clouds and caused them to stumble around. The cadejos are great seeing eye dogs, and Rudy showed you how they can guide you around. May have led to you bumping into a wall or two, from the cadejos passing through them. Alejandro worked with Hunter and Price to find tasks you could do on base with your young age and impairment. You found you could still navigate the medbay with little issue, but sharp items were kept out of reach.

The biggest issue was your nightmares. More than once you would wake up to complete darkness and cold sweat. You didn't cry out, not wanting to bother anyone else. Except Spirit doesn't work that way, nor does Ghost. Ghost on more than one occasion has walked in on you, checking to see how you're doing. Spirit could hear your small noises of distress as well.

One night, Spirit knocked on your door. You allowed her entry from your bed, and she offered to take you for a walk or get a snack. Each time you accepted her invitation. Spirit didn't pry or bother you with questions. You got the impression she'd been through this before, or something similar. After half an hour or so you were led back to your room and could sleep the rest of the night.

Then came a night where Ghost came to your room. He announced himself calmly, and you were helped out of bed. The bandages would be coming off the next day. You were relieved to finally see again. The nightmares didn't subside though. Ghost made sure you had tea and something to eat before he decided to lay it all down.

"They did a number on you." Ghost stated.

"Yep." You said calmly.

"Sick fuckers." Ghost commented. "You made it out alive."

"I got myself caught, and put myself in that situation." You said.

"You did." Ghost agreed. Great talk Ghost, very inspiring.

"Should've stayed behind. I'm living with my mistakes." You reminded him.

"Same." Ghost said sipping his own mug. You turned towards his voice. "If all you do is beat yourself up about your mistakes, you're just gonna turn purple. You've got scars, we all do. That's what happens when you make choices."

"I know." You said. You'd been around for a long while. This isn't the first time you'd dealt with something like that.

"I'd fucking hope so, you're older than me." Simon pointed out. "But if you know, then you know when to fucking say something."

"I do. Once the bandages come off, I'll be attending therapy. Not sure if they can help but it's worth trying." You told Ghost. Ghost looked at you while you finished your midnight tea.

"Good." He said.

You sat on the bed, a full adult. Spirit instructed you to shield your eyes with your hand while the cotton pads were removed from each side.

"Okay... open slowly." Spirit said. You did, wincing a bit. "Well?"

You stared at your hand. "Five right?"

Spirit's face lit up as she confirmed it. Finally you could get back to work again. Of course Hunter wouldn't let you. Instead it was a mental health day, and it was doctor's orders so no getting out of it. The team left you alone and you returned to your room, sitting on your bed. You know what comes next, and you know it could mean you leaving the base and the team. It was important though.

You dialed the number you found online. A receptionist answered. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"Hi, I'd like to set up a consultation with a therapist."

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

[halstudandruz]

Thigh or Nothing

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Matt Casey x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Months after your breakup Matt loses his cool

Warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, jealous!Matt, edging, swearing

A/N: Continuing to live in my happy world where all my boys are alive and still in Chicago 🫶

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. We did all we could.” Connor broke the news to you and you could almost feel your heart breaking into two.

“Thanks Connor. I know you did.” You sighed, he gave you a sympathetic nod, picking three beer bottles up and heading back towards his table.

It was the cherry on top of your week. Which was without question the worst since you had become a paramedic 6 years prior. You shouldn’t have asked, you're not supposed to ask and how you felt right this second made the reason clear. Like your entire job was a waste. Which deep down obviously wasn’t true. The lives you saved had outweighed the lives lost, but that fact didn’t always matter. Not when you gave your blood, sweat, and tears to save a child who they would only end up losing on the table hours later. The less you knew of the outcome the better, you could at least pretend they all had a happy ending then. You were glad your partner hadn’t come out tonight. At least then she could live in the dark of the truth, one that you would never tell her. Swallowing the lump in your throat you gestured for Stella who was filling a glass with beer. She handed the beverage to a man at the other end of the bar making her way towards you.

“Can I get a shot? Surprise me, something strong.” You requested just as a body slid into the chair next to you. The only seat still available at the bar. Glancing to your left your stomach only tightened.

“Hey.” Your ex boyfriend gave you a genuine smile hanging his coat on the back of the stool.

“Well if it isn’t Matthew Casey.” The blonde to his left interrupted before you could answer. His attention quickly turned to a girl you recognized from the State Attorney’s office. How you didn’t realize she was sitting there before was beyond you. You had loathed her from the moment she tried to entice Matt into getting a drink when you were out of town after him and Severide had helped them with a case.

“Kaylee, hey how are you?” Matt greeted, and you could see the minute she turned her charm on, turning her body to face him, chest popping out slightly, eyelashes fluttering, and a soft smirk appearing on her lips. You would venture a guess that she had heard about your breakup somehow, not that she cared if he was in a relationship before. Stella appeared back in front of you.

“Yeah, make that two.” You sighed downing the tequila.

“[Y/N].” Stella warned glancing over to Matt and Kaylee who were now laughing. She was your best friend which meant she was also in charge of nixing your bad decisions when it was warranted.

“Just one more.” You looked at her pleading, she knew what a rough week it had been and you knew she was looking out for you but right now you didn’t care. She shook her head grabbing a bottle to fill the shot glass in front of you. “Thank you.” You nodded after feeling the burn down your throat a second time. You could feel Matt’s side eye and chose to ignore it for the better.

Thirty minutes later the shots were beginning to buzz in your bones only furthering your irritation when you watched Kaylee lean whispering into Matt’s ear.

“Hey.” A voice over your shoulder caused you to jump.

“What’s up?” You forced a smile at Severide. You and Severide had become close friends throughout the years mostly due to the grief of losing your partner and his best friend, sticking by each other’s sides through the thick of it, always having him nearby was a comfort.

“Just wanted to check in on you.” He sat down in the seat beside you that had been vacated 10 minutes ago. The one you were about to move to hoping it would lessen your ability of hearing Kaylee’s dare you say pathetic flirting.

“Yeah, I’m good!” You nodded, high pitched voice a little excessive. Were you coping super well? Not exactly. Trying to dissociate tragedies was supposed to come natural to you, just like everyone else in the firehouse and normally you could maybe, but Chicago seemed to implode this week and despite all your best efforts you were fighting a losing battle on almost all occasions. That’s the reason you asked Connor about the little boy from this morning expecting a good report and your spirits to be raised only to be shocked at the truth.

“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow glancing over your shoulder at his best friend’s back, “I’m sure that’s true.”

“It’s just like.. does he have to do it right here.” You rolled your eyes, whispering to Kelly, for no good reason since Matt was clearly so enthralled in conversation he wouldn’t have heard you anyway.

“Payback is a bitch, [Y/L/N].” Kelly chuckled, eliciting confusion to appear on your face.

“What does that even mean?” You tried to take a drink before realizing your glass had nothing but ice left, “Gallo,” you summed the dark haired man over holding your drink up.

“You know, [Y/N], I get off early tonight.” Gallo filled your glass wiggling his eyebrows which earned a laugh from Severide. Blake was cute, adorable actually. The kind of guy that would fall at a woman’s feet, make her wonder why she ever spent her life with any other loser. Not someone you wasted a quick hookup on, and right now that’s all you wanted.

“Yeah buddy, see how well that plays out for you.” Severide wore a smug grin, which annoyed you just because he was skilled at getting girls in bed with him didn’t mean he could make fun of the poor kid.

“Ritter gonna be out tonight? Cause I tend to get loud.” You lowered your voice head cocking to the side, a flirty grin appearing on your face, instantly causing redness to form around Blake’s cheeks as he slid the newly filled glass towards you.

“God knows that’s the truth.” Severide huffed, taking a drink of his beer, and your head whipped to him, a scowl appearing.

“Oh fuck you, I had to deal with your hookups on god knows what surfaces for practically a year straight so hush,” You shoved him, you and Matt hadn’t exactly lived together, but you might as well have. You stayed with him practically every night off and since Severide was his roommate he may have been unfortunate enough to be subjected to your pleasure induced sounds every once in a while. “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You teased.

Gallo coughed around the drink of water he had just taken, obviously taken back.

You had considered continuing the charade until you heard Kaylee ask Matt if his place was close. Stomach clenching at the words you moved quickly to take a drink, too quickly apparently as the drink ended up in Matt’s lap instead of in your mouth.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” Heat immediately surfaced on your face. You truly didn’t mean to knock your full glass into Matt’s lap. The adrenaline from your jealousy mixed with everything else that week had you completely flustered and the cup slipped right out of your hand, but you knew from the outside looking in it would never look that way.

You could hear Kaylee scoff, looking up to see her roll her eyes dramatically. “Matt I didn’t-“ You flushed taking a single napkin trying and failing to help the mess at all.

“[Y/N], it’s fine. I just..I’ll be back.” He waved you off, stepping towards the bathroom.

“That was convenient.” Kaylee commented harshly, taking a sip of her martini.

“Believe me you don’t want to go there tod-“ You began to stand up, but beside you Kelly squeezed your knee keeping you put.

“Hey, it's not worth it. Trust me.” He encouraged, prompting you to shut up. Was it a good idea to get into a cat fight with an attorney? Probably not, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tempting.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to go check on Casey.” You patted him on the shoulder heading towards the bathroom, throwing the blonde a glare.

“Matt?” You knocked on the door as a warning before pushing it open. The hand dryer on the wall was loudly whirring as he stood underneath it, the handle pointed at his crotch as best as it could be.

“I’m not mad,” he started the minute you appeared in front of the door, “I know you’ve had a rough week and don’t like her and you have every right not to, but-“ at his words your jaw almost dropped to the ground cutting him off.

“You’re not actually implying I did that on purpose.” You scoffed in disbelief, he knew you better than that.

“What am I supposed to think? It was pretty convenient timing, and I watched you down two shots the moment she started talking to me.” He laid his line of thinking out, and it was fair. Did you love seeing Kaylee flirt with him? Not for a single second. Were you trying to get trashed tonight? Absolutely. But regardless you would never do that to him.

“Fuck you, Matt. We both know we do what we need to in order to get through some weeks and sometimes that includes alcohol.” You defended, your face was beginning to heat up in anger at the accusation escalating. Not to mention you were far from drunk.

“Does that include hooking up with your superiors?” He quipped, making your heart drop at the realization he knew what the last few months held for you after your split.

“How do you know about that?” Panic took hold of your chest. Nobody was supposed to know, it could be really bad for both of you if anyone had found out about you and Hawkins.

“I have my sources.” He blew you off, once again hitting the hand dryer on the wall aiming his other thigh at it now. You weren’t dumb you knew exactly who his sources were, and Stella was gonna get an ear full later. She should know full well that anything that goes into her boyfriend’s ears will undoubtedly be in his best friend’s soon after. You and Kelly might’ve been close but he had an obvious loyalty to his partner in crime, “I’m just saying I haven’t felt the need to cause drama anytime you’ve left with Evan or your pick of the night.” His voice was raised even as the dryer dwindled to a stop.

“So, you’re slut shaming me now then? Is that what we’re doing?” You crossed your arms against your chest getting defensive

“Oh, come on [Y/N]. You know I’d never do that. Have all the sex you want, with whoever you want. It’s none of my business. I’d just request that you don’t let your ego cockblock me next time I’m trying to do the same.” He bit back. You knew he was right. He would never actually slut shame you and the accusation was a low blow, but the alcohol was causing annoyance to course throughout your body. Only heightened the second you watched him lean closer to the attorney.

“My ego? Really?” You laughed, humorously.

“Yes, your ego. You were jealous. Go ahead and admit it,” he encouraged and you rolled your eyes refusing to do as he asked, “you think I like watching you leave here with guys wrapped around your finger? I don’t at all, but at least I can admit it.” He took a paper towel from the dispenser. You had no idea why he was furiously dabbing at the mess, it was pretty clear the wreckage was cleaned as much as it possibly could be.

“This is ridiculous.” You huffed, the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. On a normal everyday basis you and Matt had been pretty good at putting your breakup on the back burner. Having to work with each other wasn’t always easy, but you both were handling it well with dignity and respect. Tonight, on the other hand, was different. Tempers were beginning to flare, and filters were flying out the window. All you were trying to do was offer him a genuine apology, but all you were getting in return was underhanded comments. “The only thing I came in here to do was take responsibility and apologize for an accident. I don’t know what your problem is.” You did not foresee this turning into a fight when you got up.

“You are!” He exclaimed, jaw tightening.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Your emotions were beginning to boil. This made sense though. Your split was pretty amicable. Too afraid to say something and regret it later. Only having to face it every other day for the rest of your life, but maybe you were being too cautious. Maybe things needed to be said. Maybe mistakes needed to be made.

“You are,” he reiterated, stepping closer to you finally lowering his voice, “do you know how goddamn hard it’s been to see you leave here every week with a different guy? To hear that you’re fucking Hawkins when you’re all that’s still on my mind?” His voice was quivering and it took you a minute to adjust to the sudden change in tension. Surprised at his admission. You had never seen Matt like this. Even when you were together if someone had hit on you or overstepped their bounds he would kindly and calmly inform them that you were taken. Just as you would expect Matt Casey to. But this was something else. Months of built up jealousy, unable to do or say anything about it apparently taking a toll. His hand was gripping the sink so hard his knuckles were pure white, an anguished look in his eyes as he thought about it, and it was undeniably sexy. “I know that I have no right, but good lord, [Y/N]. It is slowly kill-“ You couldn’t even allow him to say another word. You were certain if you didn’t get your hands on him within the second you were going to burst into flames, gripping his face tightly, quickly molding his lips to yours. The rhythm was quick to find, familiarity not too far gone.

It didn't take Matt very long to take advantage of the kiss, pushing you back a few steps against the nearest wall, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Your hand found its way to the hair at the back of his neck threading your fingers through it. It was intense, fire quickly spreading through your body, slotting your hips against his leg, hips moving in desperation.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate. Like you haven’t been fucked right in months.” Matt’s hand rested on your ass encouraging the movement, lips moving down your neck.

It was true. Right after you and Matt had broken up you began frequenting bars, joining hookup apps, going home with a different guy multiple times a week. The problem was nobody matched up to him. There were some decent ones and some really sucky ones too, only concerned about how fast they could get there, skipping foreplay almost entirely, but no matter what without fail it always ended with you craving your ex. The only one to even slightly quench your thirst was your boss, Evan Hawkins so an occasional hookup may or may not have happened. What Matt clearly didn’t know is the agreement you two had, had recently come to an end after learning of a friend’s interest in the Chief. Leading to those hookups to become extinct over a month ago. So, whatever he was offering you were willing to take it without hesitation.

His teeth nipping at your collarbone only furthered your need allowing him to push you down harder on his leg. Leaning closer into him you took ahold of his hand that was gripping your hip trying to move it under your skirt.

“Uh uh uh,” He resisted, “it’s my thigh or nothing, baby.” He wore a cocky smirk, only growing the second you whined a quiet,

“Matt.” A defeated, pleading look appearing in your eyes. While his attitude was angering you slightly, only wanting to reach a high right this second, and you had no doubt his fingers could do exactly that, you couldn't deny how hot this was and how his ultimatum only furthered the wetness building between your legs.

“Show me how bad you need it, princess, but try not to be too loud there is an entire bar of our coworkers 50 feet away.” His thigh tightened as if he was wanting you to go against his warning, a strangled moan on the tip of your tongue, body getting as close to you as he possibly could so his smell engulfed you, a smell you missed having wrapped around you more than you thought.

You whimpered into his neck pushing your hips down harder, and you could feel him steadily growing against your hip. “You’re so beautiful you know that?” He complimented both hands moving to your ass encouraging you to speed up your movements, the friction from the denim winding a coil in your stomach. Your fingers clawed at his biceps looking for as much contact as possible. Head falling back against the wall, your eyes closing tightly, your breathing was starting to speed up shakily with every grind of your hips.

“Matt, I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s enough.” You admitted, the knot growing but only torturing you as you continued to rut against his leg, needy whimpers spilling from your mouth.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. You want me so bad? Make a mess on me first. Be a good girl.” Matt encouraged flexing the muscle in his thigh once again, dragging his teeth down the side of your throat stopping to bite behind your ear, one hand coming up to tweak your hardened nipple over your top and you finally snapped, a breathless moan falling from your lips as Matt helped work you through your high.

“Good thing you already fucked up my pants earlier or else I’d be pretty concerned about the mess you're leaving behind right now. Your panties are going to be ruined.” He wasn’t kidding, there was absolutely zero doubt he would have evidence of this encounter on his thigh if you stepped off right now. He was however wrong about one thing.

“Not wearing any.” You shrugged, letting your leg fall shakily from Matt’s hip.

“For fucks sake.” He groaned pupils flashing even darker, roughly gripping the back of your neck and pulling your lips back to his for a sloppy kiss.

“Yours? It’s closer.” You mumbled into his neck after pulling away to get a breath, biting it playfully. Nodding he stepped back to pull his phone out of his pocket to reserve an Uber and unsurprisingly there was indeed a dark spot staining his jeans, but all you were focused on was the bulge to the right of it, mouth watering contemplating dropping to your knees right there, missing the weight of his cock on your tongue, when he grabbed your hand.

“We’ll go out the back.” He gave you a quick kiss, opening the door to check for anyone before sneaking through the kitchen out into the cold, a car pulling up to the curb just as you made it around the building.

The minute you were in the Uber your mouth was back on his.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’m gonna need an address confirmation before you suck all the air outta his lungs, honey.” A nice older woman, joked from the driver's seat. Blushing you mumbled an apology putting some space between you two. Matt chuckled in amusement, confirming the address on the screen.

“Probably get a lot of this, this time of night huh?” Matt began a conversation hand resting teasingly high on your thigh.

“Absolutely, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to see young people having fun. It’s cliche but you really do only live once and y’all are in your prime years. They go faster than you think. So, as long as everyone is being safe and aren’t actually doing anything disrespectful in my backseat I don’t mind.” She smiled, kindly. The conversation continued for the remaining 5 minutes until she pulled in front of Matt’s apartment building. “Have a good night you two. Be safe.” She winked. Giggling you got out thanking her, approving of Matt’s 5 star review and generous tip once you made it in the elevator. Your hand was clasped in his, thighs involuntarily rubbing together at the tension, having to behave with all your might thanks to the elderly couple who accompanied you.

As soon as the door to his apartment was closed and your shoes were discarded his mouth was back on yours, stealing your breath at the need he conveyed. Untucking your top from the skirt it was discarded on the hardwood, tapping your thighs you took the hint allowing him to wrap your legs around him walking you to his bedroom. It had been the first time you had been back in the apartment since the breakup. Heart aching as your mind flashbacked to Matt swallowing harshly, blinking back his tears, in an attempt to put on a strong front as you walked out.

Luckily, you were quickly teleported back to the present once your back hit his bed, allowing him to pull his shirt off in one movement.

You would never not stare, never could not stare at a shirtless Matt Casey. You had made it a point not to be near him in the locker room recently because it just was not a power you possessed. Not sure how it was a power anyone could possess as your eyes raked over his broad chest, his forearms and hands causing your hips to wiggle slightly. He didn’t let you gaze long though, bending to attack your bare chest. Hand moving between your thighs to learn you weren’t lying earlier, a groan escaping him at the finding. His lips laid kisses all over your breasts, fingers moving to trail down your slit hips immediately jumping.

“So needy.” His free hand squeezed your hip forcing it down, just as he pressed a finger in slowly you let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t enough, you needed more immediately.

“More..” You requested as he curled his finger just right putting more pressure against your waist when your pelvis fought to jerk forward. Obliging, he added a second finger increasing the speed. Your body was begging you to work for it, wanting to rock your hips down to ride his hand but his strong hold was preventing it. A groan fell from your lips the minute his thumb met your clit rubbing soft circles.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” He whispered in your ear, biting it softly. You were breathing heavily, quickly nodding your head yes in response. Your walls clenching when he crooked his fingers once again, so damn close, when he pulled away from you.

“Matt, what the fuck?” You whimpered, squirming under his lustful gaze.

“I don’t think you’re ready yet.” He brushed you off, but the glint in his eye proved how much he enjoyed this and it was clear you were in for a long night, leaning forward he pulled your last piece of clothing down your legs roughly tugging you towards the edge of the bed by your ankles, ending on his knees between your legs, and it was a sight to behold. One of your favorites if you were being honest. You were taken back at the lack of teasing the minute Matt shoved his mouth into your pussy, tongue darting out to lick your clit, a wail echoing from your lips, “You taste so damn good, forever my favorite meal, baby.” He praised nipping the sides of your thighs when his finger circled your entrance once again filling you. You directed all your focus towards keeping quiet as the knot grew tighter with every movement, hoping if you didn’t give him any sign of how close you were you could trick him into letting you come, hands twisted tight in the sheets when he sucked your clit finger curling to hit your sweet spot, but at the last second he pulled away, ripping you back from the brink once again.

“Fuck!” You huffed, hand punching the sheets, Matt chuckled above you,

“You’re so cute thinking I don’t know your body like the back of my hand.” And okay while this sucked, cocky Matt was intoxicating.

He edged you three more times and you were so wound up you feared the second he got in you, you would burst. You were physically panting, tears covering the sheets under your head.

“Matt-please. I’ll fucking call Hawkins right now.” You bargained, and despite the jealously that flashed deeper on his face he grinned smugly.

“You think threatening me right now is a good idea?” His eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know! I just need something, anything please.” Your thighs squeezed together begging for friction. Your eyes traveled down the man’s body, hardness in his jeans more than evident and you reached out towards him, missing the feeling of him in your hand, getting to watch his face scrunch in pleasure with just a flick of your wrist, but he caught your hand.

“Tonight’s about you baby, and making you wonder why you’d ever want someone else to put their dick in you.” He winked, his words actually surprised you. He was never this territorial over you, but it lit an even bigger fire inside of you. “Tell me what you want.” He ordered hands resting against the edge of the bed.

“You, right now. Anyway you’ll give it to me.” You wasted no time in answering, batting your eyelashes.

Smiling he finally pulled his jeans and boxers down allowing the bulge in his pants room breathe, tip red and dripping, moving to hover on top of you, he teased his cock through your wetness appreciating the way your cheeks flushed, his pupils dark not allowing you much time to drool, “Condom?” He asked, seemingly forgetting until this point not used to having to use them with you since you were on birth control, “I’m sure Severide has some.” You could see the hurt in his eyes from having to ask, and it made your heart ache in turn, but you shook your head,

“I’ve made everyone else wear one.” You explained, hooking your legs around his hips and his relief was obvious.

“Ready?” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, a welcoming softness in a tension filled room.

“God, yes.” You wiggled your hips attempting to angle him in.

At the confirmation Matt thrusted deep into you pulling a gasp out of you at the roughness. You could vividly remember the first time Matt and you had sex. Gentle, intimate, loving after years of longing and avoiding the inevitable between you two. Completely different than right now. You wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow you found marks from the Captain’s fingers around your hips pulling you towards him feverishly, everytime his dick thrusted forward into you, and it was exactly what you needed. It took a whole two seconds for you to fill the room with moans, allowing him to manhandle you from the start. He maneuvered your legs from his hips to his shoulders enabling him to go deeper, screaming when he thrusted his hips the perfect way, “Matt-oh my god,“ your body was tightening embarrassingly fast.

“Yeah, baby?” He gritted, and you were extremely impressed at how well he was keeping his composure tonight.

“You’re so fucking good.” You complimented through ragged breaths, eyes tightly shutting at the growing pressure.

“Go and fuck whoever you want, but you’re always gonna end up back here, baby. Cause nobody can fuck this pussy better than me, huh? Tell me I’m right baby girl, you don’t come until you do.” He bargained, pulling out so just the tip was in you, slowing down his thrusts. You didn’t want to give in, to give him the satisfaction regardless of it being the truth, but based on how he was acting tonight you really believed if you didn’t confirm his suspicions he wouldn’t let you come, and you just might actually die if that was the case. Literally whining, tears springing to your eyes, your feet dug into his shoulders in an attempt to make him go deeper. So fucking close, your muscles hurt from the strain of being so tightly wound time and time again, “Sweetheart, I can come just like this right now if you want me to. Be like every other guy you’ve been with recently. Is that what you want?” His tone was dripping in arrogance and his shallow thrusts were successfully torturing you. How this side of him could be completely infuriating but completely erotic at the same time was beyond your comprehension at the moment. You had never been so distraught, allowing your pride to go out the window without a second thought.

“Matt-“ you felt the tears starting to run down your face, “please. It’s you- it’s yours. Need you, always need you. Please let me come.” Your breathing was ragged, hips doing their best to entice him closer, pull him in on their own accord.

“Good girl.” He praised leaning down to kiss the tears away softly, “you’re so damn pretty.” He smiled genuinely, studying your features.

“Fuck me, Captain.” You smirked, although enjoying the snippet of fluff. Laughing, Casey returned to his previous position.

“Remember you asked for it.” He teased throwing you a wink before flipping you over on your stomach, ramming into you harder this time. The bunch of nerves you had felt plenty of times tonight already quickly returning full force, Matt was finally starting to lose his cool, grunts falling from his lips.

“Fuck, [Y/N].” Looking over your shoulder you could see his eyes were between your legs intently watching where you two met, a sight you wish you had the ability to see.

“Matt-“ a broken sob fell from your lips, “so close.” You were attempting to move your hips with his but the brutal pace he had set was hard to match. He wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you up against his chest. Pressing the fingers from his right hand against your clit, rubbing soft circles.

“Go ahead, gorgeous.” He encouraged into your ear kissing the back of your neck, seconds later your body practically convulsed finally letting go, back arching off into his chest, a loud moan echoing in the room. Matt having to hold you up completely as you worked through your high. He followed soon after filling you with warmth every time his dick twitched. A feeling you missed more than you’d like to admit.

You lay in silence after collapsing on the mattress, legs shaking, Casey’s head dug into your neck trying to resurrect his breath, heart beating rapidly against your back. The intensity finally dwindling, causing an unwelcome sob to break out of you at the sudden change of environment. Matt’s head shot up at the sound.

“Hey hey hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry, was it too much?” Matt’s body went rigid concern lighting his eyes, as he took your face between his hands.

“No, not at all. It was incredible. I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous.” You tried to brush him off, a wet laugh coming out, attempting to get out from under him and off the bed.

“No, come here. Talk to me.” He repositioned you so you were now laying on top of him against his chest. Holding you tightly.

“It’s just…I’ve had the most terrible week. Truly awful and all I’ve wanted, all I’ve craved every single day was a Matthew Casey hug.” You sniffed, shaking your head embarrassingly. His arms tightened around you at your confession, dropping a kiss against your head, and the familiarity did exactly as you assumed it would, tension releasing from your body, relaxation taking over in its place.

“Baby, I’ll I’ve wanted to do this week is give you a hug. I’m right here. I’m always right here. No matter what, I’m yours, baby, and I will wait however long it takes for you to come back to me and realize that I’m the guy for you.” His hand was trailing soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m just scared, Matt.” You had never given him a true reason for leaving, claiming you just didn’t know if you felt right in a relationship at the time.

“Of what?” He asked.

“Having to watch you run into burning buildings has never been my favorite regardless of how good you look in bunker gear, but..after Otis it’s just been unbearable, and I just thought maybe if I broke it off it would get easier. It would just feel uneasy like with Kelly or Stella rather than crippling.” You explained, emotions getting the better of you as you thought back to losing Otis and having to watch Katie crumble.

Chloe had the same thoughts and luckily for Cruz she learned to accept it, but she also didn’t have to physically witness it. She didn’t have to worry every time Boden’s face ticked with concern when he didn’t like something. Didn’t have to count down the seconds waiting for him to reappear in the smoke when Boden pulled them. Didn’t have to beg your shaking hands to stay steady and focus on the patient when you heard an accidental pass alarm.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” His voice was so calm, so full of sympathy.

“What were you gonna do, Matt?” He wasn’t going to stop being a firefighter and you’d never want him to.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “Has it worked?” It was a question he didn’t want to ask, but one he needed an answer to.

“Far from it,” you shook your head swallowing more tears, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it, losing Otis, watching everyone fall apart maybe it’s something I need to talk to someone about, but regardless it’s just made me realize god forbid something did happen I’d be so pissed I didn’t spend everyday with you that I could. I love you with my entire being Matthew Casey, and I think it’s pretty clear that’ll never stop.” You finally looked up at him.

“This is the dick lust talking isn’t it?” He joked after a beat of silence allowing you to laugh, smacking him in the chest. “I promise I will do everything I can to always come out for you.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear closing his eyes to kiss you on the head.

“I think jealous Matt is my new favorite Matt.” You grinned eyes sparkling.

“Hawkins is just lucky his face is still intact.” He growled, only confirming your new opinion.

“I’m hungry.” You attempted to steer off the topic, accompanied by your stomach rumbling.

“We did put in quite a workout.” Matt joked kissing your cheek, “I can order some pizza let me just see if Severide is home.” He jumped up to put a pair of sweatpants on, throwing you a Chicago Fire sweatshirt of his basking in his scent overwhelming you.

“God bless him if he is.” You winced thinking back to his comment in the bar earlier. Throwing the piece of clothing on as Matt disappeared into the hallway.

Two minutes later the man in question appeared in your doorway, arms crossed against his chest, a cocky look on his face.

“You seriously need to learn these walls aren’t soundproof.” He quipped, forcing a blush on your cheeks.

“You know what? You had to have seen the trail of clothes when you got home you knew what you were getting into.” You defended, shrugging.

“I’m just kidding, I got home like two minutes ago. Figured I’d give you some time when neither of you happened to come back to the bar.” He laughed when you rolled your eyes, walking to sit on the bottom of the bed, “I’m sorry for telling him about Hawkins by the way. I was just trying to kick his ass into gear.”

“Alright, it’s ordered, 35 minutes.” Matt announced as he reappeared in the room, climbing back into his bed beside you pulling you into his side.

“Casey, your girl almost took down an attorney today. Who by the way wasn’t very happy when you never returned.”

It was a perfect end to a not so perfect week.

[sickofthistoxicshit]

I've been away for a while, and I had time to think.

I realized that when the writers wrote Eddie at first he was interesting and fun and a badass veteran (kinda like a certain guest star from last season) and then he was reduced to Buck's friend and supposed love interest.

When the writers wrote the street fighting storyline it wasn't about Eddie (not just, not really) it was about Buck suing the department.

When Eddie was shot, it wasn't about Eddie, It was about Buck's guilt.

When Eddie left, it was supposed to be about him dealing with his trauma, and he did, but he needed Buck to "save" him - again bottom line, he wasn't the main interest here.

And it becomes even more glaring when Eddie makes friends and seems to get on with T but get railroaded by Buck as a paving for Buck coming out as bi. (kinda, coming out arc was lukewarm at best)

All of Eddie's progress has been completely erased in favor of "the plot" meeting ghost Shannon - and the bottom line wasn't Eddie cheating on his background gf but more like Eddie emotionally cheating on Buck - who came to see him asking about Kim.

M simply vanished and so did ghost Shannon - there was never any emotional resolution or growth (that happened already in S5+6 but was erased by TM for some obscure reason), so it was never about Eddie, the scene of Eddie talking to Christopher between father and son was nixed in favor of Buck talking to Christopher before he left.

Even Eddie leaving now to supposedly be closer to his son who for some reason has been taken and kept by his grandparents with zero resistance on Eddie's part - because, dude, you're the parent.

It was shoved aside to deal with Buck's going nowhere S8a storyline, making it that Christopher is kept away. And Eddie's story going nowhere even after he spoke to the priest.

Eddie leaving is going to focus on how it's going to affect Buck.

In conclusion, I have realized that Eddie was never really a main, like all the others, he was written as Buck background unofficial boyfriend.

His name was even smeared several times by the writers like all of buck's former LIs - all reduced to a gf/bf position.

As an Eddie girl, I am offended, and angry that this is what it came to.

Eddie deserved better storytelling.

I realize this is an unpopular opinion, coz Buck-Blind ppl think he can do no wrong - and according to the writers apparently he can't - but Eddie being reduced to Buck's plot advancer is infuriating and terrible storytelling.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter 29: Perfect Imperfections

Summary- 7.1k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You are caught by surprise in a personal moment and old insecurities pop up. Curtis makes it his mission to reassure you, making you feel ready to try something you have never allowed before.

Warnings- Body insecurity, mentions of scars, oral, fingering, P in V, this is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Big thank you to everyone who comments and reblogs this series. Reading your thoughts about them helps me continue their story. It means so damn much to me. Special thank you to @mumbles411 for giving this a read through. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. The Curtis edit was made a year or two ago for me by the talented @nixakimbo. Nix, again Thank You so much for making this piece for me. I am so glad to use it in one of my favorite chapters. Happy Reading Everyone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight / Masterlist

The gym became your outlet for so many reasons. You relished in the feeling of power you got when you grew stronger, no longer getting winded by the workout you set for yourself, feeling that you could go further and do more in the weeks that followed. 

But some things had not yet changed and frankly, you didn’t force it when you didn’t have to. Taking a shower in the gym wasn’t something you were keen on. You liked to take your time in the act and had a set routine to take care of your body, it just made more sense to you to return to Curtis’s house, which was a quick drive. 

Returning after one of those times, you made your way inside the empty house, the clock over the kitchen sink letting you know that Curtis would be home shortly. You wanted to at least be out of the tub by the time he got home, now that winter was giving way to spring, he was coming home dirtier and you didn’t want to make him wait for his turn.

You didn’t have any complaints, finding the mud that would streak his clothes and the dried dust that would smudge his face kind of attractive, in a very masculine rugged way you couldn’t deny yourself. But he made it a point to clean himself up after getting done for the day, a reset for the evening. You could respect that even though you simply found him hot as fuck when he was all dirty. 

The meow from Binx drew your attention, your black kitten weaving around your ankles and stretching himself up to be picked up. You let your bags settle in a heap on the table, content to go through them after your shower. 

Your very hot shower, you smiled to yourself as the slight workout ache made you groan while reaching down to scoop Binx into your arms and start for the stairs. “You gonna help me get the shower ready?” You asked him as you buried your nose into the soft fur of his neck, loving the immediate sensation of his purrs going through you. Upstairs, you let him go onto the bed and started to strip out of your workout clothes, tossing them towards the hamper tucked into the bedroom corner. 

Binx was quick to bound across the bed and saunter into the bathroom after you, tail flicking with interest at what you were doing. Once he heard the water in the tub start, the black kitten was scrambling up to the tub and inspecting over the edge. “Careful Binx, you won’t like falling into that.” You hummed while finding the soap you wanted to use from under the sink. 

He meowed rather loudly in that squeaky kitten tone and shot off for the bedroom, leaving you to finish up on your own. Once the bathroom steamed up and you got the temperature where you wanted, you took your first blissed-out sigh as you got under the hot water. 

Curtis often complained about his water pressure not being strong enough. But right now with it beating down on your shoulders and back while you scrubbed your fingers through your hair, it felt like heaven. 

After a decent amount of time, a lot of you just were you enjoying the hot water, and you finally decided it was time to get out. Especially since you wanted to make sure Curtis would have plenty of hot water. The house was still quiet while you dried yourself off and fit the oversized bath towel around you. Another perk of showering at Curtis’s house, his towels were all huge, making even you feel small using them.

You set about your routine. Skincare products are laid out for you to grab as you need them. It was rhythmic, the motion of rubbing this or that into your skin, to prevent breakouts, chafing, and treat any place irritated from your workouts. 

The other reason you didn't want to shower in the gym, all of this took time and in the sanctuary of Curtis’s master bedroom, it felt allowed. Especially without anyone here, you didn’t need to rush and slip clothes back on to cover yourself from anyone. 

You were so lost in the act of it, your mind drifting as you continued your routine that you never noticed Curtis standing in his doorway, watching you. At the same time, you lifted one leg up on the bed, heel pressing at the edge to spread your thighs and rub some anti-chafing lotion into your inner thigh. 

Not until he softly said your name and gave a knock on the doorframe to catch your attention, making your bottle clack to the wooden floor, the sound loud to you and almost damning to have been caught with it while your leg dropped back to the floor. “Curtis! I didn’t hear you come home.” 

You tried to grab at the bottle quickly, heat rising up your neck and burning your cheeks, but your foot kicked it over towards Curtis, right where you didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want him to see the bottle; Anti chafing cream because your thighs were thick and rubbed together. 

If you were normal, your thighs wouldn't swallow everything like that. Jake's sneering voice cut through everything while Curtis swept down to grasp the bottle for you, his happy to be home smile fizzled out when he saw the distress on your face. “Honey? Baby, what's wrong?” The stretch marks, the scars from past chafing, and the fact he caught you like this when you weren’t ready to be that kind of vulnerable made you snatch the bottle and tuck it with the other things on the bed. 

“You surprised me.” You said quickly, still feeling the shameful heat in your cheeks and your fingers clutching at the towel to tighten it around you, hiding what you were doing. “I-I was… I am…” You stuttered, unsure of what to even say at this moment to come back from it all while your chin dropped towards your chest, averting your eyes from him. Curtis squatted in front of you, a hand reaching up to brush along your face, fingertips calloused yet gentle while he nudged a finger under your chin to lift your head enough to look at him, sure enough, his crystal blue eyes were sharp in a concerned way, searching yours for that answer you were unable to give him. 

“If I scared you, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me coming up the stairs.” He said earnestly and you didn’t have it in you to let him think that he did something to make you react this way when it was your insecurity doing it. 

“You didn’t, I swear.” You whispered and finally, you let it spill from you, what was even the point in trying to keep it from him. It wasn’t like Curtis didn’t know you had thick thighs, he touched them just about every day you two were with each other. “I didn’t want you to see… this.” Your hand waved at your products and he gave a confused glance towards them. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” His hands fell to the side of your thighs, rubbing up and down them reassuringly. “You are just taking care of yourself?” 

“When you put it like that.” the tip of your nose wrinkled, now feeling like you over reacted about this and why were you like this? Curtis let his hands scoop under your thighs, grabbing them slightly and sliding you closer to the edge of the bed. 

“Give me the bottle you were using before Honey.” He instructed and you did, reaching over to grab it for him while he spread your thighs apart, ignoring the quiver in them. His hands were warm and gentle in the way he touched you, lovingly. There wasn’t any sign of disgust in his features at the small marks scattering the inside of them. Your heart raced in a flutter, it was still late afternoon and Curtis was kneeling in front of your mostly naked body, able to see all of you. 

“You know what is one of the things I love about you, Honey?” He said as he shook the contents of the bottle into one of his hands, rubbing it between his palms till it warmed up. “Is how you take care of yourself. The selfish part likes to think that it's for me, but I know it's for you Pretty Girl.” His hands smoothed up the inside, rubbing the cream into your skin in a slow pattern. “That you take the time and effort to do this so you don’t hurt, so you feel good. It shows Honey, you glow and I get lucky enough to see it.” 

You couldn’t hide your small smile, giving a little shrug. “Maybe some of it is for you Curtis.” 

A devilish grin made his features light up, his eyes twinkling mischievously and his serious demeanor gone. “I fucking scored dating you.” His mouth descended to between your thighs, kissing them generously while you broke out in giggles, brushing your hand over his buzz cut, relishing in the feel of him.  

“I don’t know about that Curtis, I tear through all my jeans and leggings, my shorts get gobbled up and no matter what I do, they will always rub together.” 

His voice was muffled when he swore against your thigh, pushing up to surge upwards, pushing you back into the bed while he loomed over you, his hands planted on the mattress, holding himself up enough to not dirty up the bedding you were sprawled on. “I will buy you new jeans and leggings every time you need a new pair.” He swore in between affectionate kisses on your mouth, some of them quick and others slow with teases of tongue dragging out a moan from you. “I don't know why you are so concerned about your thighs pressing together Honey, I have no issue spreading them for you.” 

You gasped up at him as he took his reward for your surprise, this kiss heated so you had to clutch at him to keep the swarming of your senses from making you forget how to respond. When he finally pulled away for you to breathe, you gasped slightly. “You’re a fucking menace.” 

“All yours I’m afraid.” Curtis teased with a wink, but he softened from continuing to tease you. “How do you feel like going out after I shower? We can go get some dinner and then go play some pool if you don't feel tired from your day?” 

You seemed to give it some thought but pushed slightly with your hands against his chest for him to lift himself away, letting you sit up with him. “Just us or did you want to see if the others want to come?” 

“Just us tonight Pretty Girl, I don’t feel like sharing you.”

It was late, both of you spent tangled around one another, sweaty and panting when you twisted to face Curtis, exhaustion finally catching up to both of you between muttered hushed tones checking in with one another before either of you fell asleep. 

You were lying with your head on his chest, after Curtis cleaned you both up, calm and completely relaxed. His heart was a very steady thump under your cheek while everything else in the dark bedroom had gone silent. 

You were on the verge, his hand splayed against the back of your thigh hooked around his hip where he dragged you against him once he laid back down. His fingers were tracing small soothing patterns against your skin that made you feel even sleepier than before. “When we first started dating, I was very self-conscious of my hands Honey.” He spoke softly above you, making you tilt your face up to peek up at him. “They were so rough and you looked so soft, I didn’t want them to feel bad when I would finally get to touch you. No matter how much-working hands lotions I use, they will never soften.”

You sought for his hand, pushing your fingers through his own. It felt strong in your hold, warm and secure. The roughness he had built up over the years of hard work always sent tingles through you. “What made you even think that?” You questioned as you never thought of his touch being able to hurt you, he never gave you a reason to consider it. 

“Another person told me my hands felt like sandpaper on them. It stayed with me for a long time. When we first met, it was one of those things that was always at the back of my mind.” Curtis confessed as you kept a hold of his hand in yours. 

“I don’t think that Curtis, I love feeling your hands on me.” You resettled his hand where it was before. “Don’t ever stop.” You whispered against his chest. It was quiet for a few more moments, it wasn’t lost on you why he told you, since you never would have known otherwise he was ever self-conscious. “I love you, Curtis, just as you are.” 

Being able to say that, still made flutters in your belly while he reminded you that he too loved you. 

The week came flying in, it had been several days since Curtis had walked in on you after your shower. Since that night, you both had been so busy that there were just passing moments of catching up about one another's day and crashing, either at your apartment or at his house. 

Tonight you were at your apartment, needing to tackle your next semester of teaching, the last one of the year. All the stuff you needed was there and it was easier to set up your whiteboard to plan everything out. 

Curtis didn’t mind, making himself right at home, cooking dinner for the both of you, and after pulling you away from your project, insisting you take a break after you were starting to get frustrated, you curled up on the love seat couch next to him, grateful one of you knew when to take a break and stream a random movie, take your mind off what you still needed to do. 

Ending the night found you standing at your dresser, thinking back on the week's events. You glimpsed over your shoulder at Curtis, stretched in your bed, a book he brought with him in his lap while he read from it, the occasional turn of his page as he consumed another chapter. Never had you thought you would be here, eight months into this relationship, and the two of you were still going strong, in so many ways better than you ever were with Jake, who you were with for years. 

You were lucky to have met Curtis, to have found each other again at Paulie’s. The both of you grew in so many ways, figuring out how to be what the other one needed. 

You loved who you were becoming now, happier was what Jade had told you. You were happier and more confident in your new life with these people who had become as close as family. Curtis glanced up over his book, blue eyes roaming over you as you took your clothes off, one by one. 

You knew he was waiting for you to flick the overhead lights off, let the soft glow of the lamps by the bed be the only source in the room as you finished undressing. It was enough to read by, but not enough to keep the rest of the room lit. You were still notorious for wanting to hide your body, this body that he loved so much that it still took your breath away how he could love it when you judged it so harshly. 

Maybe it was time to try loving it just as much. 

You heard the rustle of sheets behind you, where he pulled down your side of the bed, all while you ticked away the seconds in your head, how he was going to give a look of surprise at you and that questioning look before heat would blaze across his features, the sharp inhale that would expand his chest and a flush of pink would start its way up his body in his arousal. He always looked so fucking good, it made your heart pick up in anticipation and tingles tickle their way down your spine, prickling your skin as you shed the last of your clothes. 

With all the lights still on. 

Your arms went defensively over your chest for a moment, old habits making you try to hide yourself, but you dropped them and turned to face Curtis, the big old bed seemingly beckoning you. “Hey Pretty Girl.” His tone dropped with interest as you took those steps closer, trying not to chicken out. You crawled onto the end of the bed, working your way up. Curtis ditched his book on the nightstand quickly as you settled into his lap, his hands unable to stop from touching you, gliding up your thighs to the curve of your waist to pull you in closer towards him. “Honey, I dreamt of the day you kept the lights on.” 

His hands, so warm and gliding on you, smoothing to your back and up to the back of your neck where he squeezed lightly while drawing you into his space, his lips finding yours. You hummed into the kiss, teasing the plushness of his bottom lip with your tongue. When he lets you ease back, your hands tugging up his shirt to run your fingers through the soft mat of dark hair over his chest. “You thought about this?”  

“Pretty Girl, since I laid eyes on you, I thought about having you like this.” He arched himself under you, even between the blankets you could feel his cock starting to harden. Curtis couldn’t stop touching you, it was making you feel heavy and wanting for more as he explored with his palms, efficiently distracting you from your usual nerves. Possessive touches sweeping over your belly where his hand pressed against the softness and up to cup your breast into a palm, thumb teasing your nipple slowly, taking his time. 

“I want to try tonight…” You tugged at the shirt he wore, making him lean forward off the headboard to tug it off him. “Lights on.” 

“Honey, whatever you want to try, I’m with you.” A touch pressed against your chin, making you turn your gaze to meet his. “Your fucking beautiful, sexy as fuck, and drive me crazy Honey. I can’t wait to make you come for me.” His eyes couldn’t stop roaming over you. “We’ve never used a safe word before but if you need to stop just say wasp if at any point it’s not what you want anymore.” You nodded to confirm but it wasn’t enough for him. “Repeat it for me, Honey.” 

“Wasp” You repeated while nuzzling lightly against his hand, craving all the touches he was giving you. 

“Fuck you’re such a good girl Honey, and mine… all fucking mine.” He groaned out in appreciation. You nodded as you wiggled a bit in his lap, knowing he was looking you over, taking in his fill of you bare to him. Your thighs clasped against his side, not with the urge to close them from his view, but with the desire to ride him like this, leverage yourself to grind against him “I still can’t believe you chose me.” He licked his lips while gliding a hand between your thighs, past the curls of hair and gliding to your glistening folds. Your gasp was his reward, making him break out in a grin while he rubbed around your clit, never quite touching you there, but so close. “I love how just touching you turns you on for me Pretty Girl, you are so responsive for me.” 

It was true, anticipation for this crested into want and you did your own exploring. Taking in his wide chest and broad shoulders, each tattoo he had inked on him temptations to be kissed and nipped at, Before you could even do that, he was leaning your chest towards his mouth, kissing over the curve of your breasts and teasing a nipple into his mouth. 

The pull and tug shot straight to your pussy, the sensations he was making between his mouth and fingers making you whine out his name. 

“Say it again.” He made a rumbling noise against your chest, in your growing desperation you started to grind against his lap, the blankets starting to get twisted in between your thighs. “Who's making you this needy?”  

“Curtis.” You grabbed onto his shoulders, using it to leverage yourself harder. 

“What do you want, Pretty Girl?” His tongue lavished up your collarbone to suck on your neck, pulling even more desperate noises from you. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” His fingers continued driving you mad, never quite touching you where you wanted, drawing it out while you tried grinding against his digits. 

“Fuck Curtis, I want you.” 

Another nip behind your ear at the pulsing point made you wriggle closer, seeking more of him. “Fingers, tongue or cock Pretty Girl?” 

“Fingers…” Your mouth found his neck, the biting shag of his beard burning you as you worked your way to the flexing tendons of his neck “Tongue.” You whined with impatience while you clamped on, making him hiss against you, his fingers rubbing between your folds swirling on your clit, shooting a rush of pleasure to your nerves. “Cock… just something.” 

“Greedy girl.” Curtis said at the hinge of your jaw, grabbing a hold of your hip to still you while a finger stretched into you, after a few pumps, he added another which felt so good, your pussy wanting that feeling of him. “Gripping me so good Pretty Girl.” He grunted against you while loping an arm around you to press you into his chest, half hugging you while fingering you. Your nails dug into his chest, burying your face in against his neck with little pants while your pussy clenched. “Gonna have to make you come with all three for me. Leave you ruined in this bed.” Curtis growled into your ear, his promise like a dark seduction that you desperately wanted. 

Curtis knew just how you liked to be touched, the steady strokes curling in you as you just got wetter, your arousal warm as it slicked onto his hand, palm grinding against you and coating the inside of your thighs. You started arching and sinking into his touch, chasing that desperation growing in your clenching core. “Oh god yes.” You muttered into him, fitting against him like you belonged. Your face buried in his neck where his masculine smell you could only distinguish as his was making your head go fuzzy. 

“Come on Pretty Girl, you know God ain’t making you feel this good.” A third finger stretched you further, and the burn of it mixed with the pleasure already built in you made you jolt, rocking your hips up to arch above him with a louder cry into the room. “Fuck.” Curtis groaned, watching you take over, your movements precise to bring you to the edge. His free hand slid up the center of your body, wrapping a hand around the front of your neck to squeeze lightly. 

The rush his fingers tightening against the sides of your neck gave you. Grabbing a hold of his wrist, you let your gaze lower to see him under you. He might be holding you, bringing your pleasure rushing to take you over, but the way he was looking at you made you feel powerful. The black of his pupils is so wide that slivers of icy blue take you all in as his. It was a combination that made your pussy gush, tightening around all his fingers stuffed in you while your body seized in your first promised orgasm. 

“Thatta girl, gush all over me Pretty Girl.” His graveled voice taking a hint of command to it, licking his lips as his fingers kept fucking into you, drawing out your pleasure. Your gasps lifted your chest, catching his attention again to press his mouth between your breasts, sucking skin and sharp touches of his teeth mixing with the warmth of his tongue tasting you. “So fucking good Pretty Girl, so good for me everytime.” His fingers withdrew, and you missed it. 

No fullness to sooth your clenching core, you were about to protest, beg for him to touch you again when his slick covered fingers pushed against your lips. 

Your eyes rolled back at the act, sucking them into your mouth so you could suck him clean while he pulled his fingers back out, Underneath you could feel Curtis throbbing, his hips raising enough to push against you and his hand tightened a fraction around your throat, dragging your face to his. “No one knows do they? what my Honey can do with her mouth.” His tongue trailed up your chin, over your lips, his tongue filling your mouth, stroking against yours till you were moaning, arching and pressing against his hand at your throat, making you feel floaty. His mouth quirked a bit at the sight of you. 

You were magnificent in his lap, your little whimpers and moans going straight to his cock, you withering in his lap just growing needier for him. “How you can swallow my cock like a good girl.” You hummed in agreement, your hand wrapping around his wrist near your throat as you continued grinding in his lap.

“Love swallowing your cock Curtis.” Your breathy hazy voice hinting on a plea. “Wanna right now.” 

“Mmhh, I know Pretty Girl. But that's not what we are doing at the moment.” He chuckled at your pout, pulling you back to his mouth to kiss you breathless before flipping you onto your back, making your cry of surprise sharp in the bedroom “You told me fingers, mouth, cock.” Looming over you, his hands traced your hips, wide palms curving around them and sharp white teeth tugged at his bottom lip while scanning his heated gaze over you. Curtis looked hungry and possessive of you at this moment, making you feel the smallest you probably ever have. A whimper escaped you and his features flickered momentarily to your face, mouthing your safe word to you. 

His reminder that you had it if you needed it. 

With ease, Curtis had you turn to your belly, shifting over you so he was stretched to cover your back, humming at the feeling of you wriggling into a comfortable place on the mattress. He ground his cock against your ass while kissing across your shoulders, his voice a groan as he pressed his mouth down the center of your back slowly, like he was worshiping whatever skin he could get his mouth on. “Raise that sweet ass Honey.” His weight pulled away and you tensed, glancing over your shoulder at him settling on his knees at the end of the bed, and grabbing at your full waist, pulling you down towards him. “Knees underneath you Pretty Girl.” 

Which you did, arching yourself up to show off your glistening folds and hiding your face in your arms as nerves started to take over. Even Curtis groaning in appreciation as he drew his knuckle up the slit of you couldn’t stop the hint of intrusive thoughts. You kept trying to peep over your shoulder at him, sensing him just behind you while his hands framed you with his fingers digging into the folds on your hips. 

What was admiring for him turned to worry for you, your eyes growing almost frantic and a shudder raced up your body while you imagined yourself through his gaze, the way your skin sagged and folded, it made shame blossom in your chest painfully, dulling your arousal in the moment.

Say your word Y/N, you can stop this before he pushes you away.

Before you even had a chance to let those thoughts take control, Curtis leaned over you to catch your jaw in his hold and tilt your head enough for him to press a kiss at the hinge. “I know you're worried Honey that I’m going to see you and hurt you. I am not those assholes, I love seeing you like this, trusting me like this.” Another kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “That you are dripping down your thighs by how turned on you are.” His fingers filled you again, pulling out more moans and whimpers from you suddenly. “You are so fucking beautiful like this that it's taking everything in me not to split you open on my cock, fill you so full of my cum so you can’t doubt how I feel about you.” He stroked against your g-spot, making you wriggle as heat spiraled up your spine. “First you gotta cum on my tongue, cause I know how damn sweet you taste and I just wanna bury my face between your thighs for the rest of my life. I have never been more attracted to anyone like I am to you.” 

You eeped in protest when he pulled his touch away before you came again, dropping your face into the bedding to hide yourself but Curtis pressed his fingers into your hair to grip at the back of your head and easily lifted your face from the crook of your arms. “No hiding from me Pretty Girl, not tonight.”

It was like he knew the right things to say, his words settling deeper than any of those doubts possibly could, latching onto what he said, you complied, wanting him to continue making your body weep for him. “Fuck, this pretty pussy is glistening Honey, dripping your sweetness.” He dropped to the floor behind you, his face level with your most intimate spot. Fingers pried your folds apart, showing you off to him. His scruff landed first on your inner thigh, his tongue dragging up your shaking thighs, anticipation growing in your chest till you were panting. 

“My heart is racing.” You confessed while glancing over your shoulder to see where he was. Curtis glanced at you, smirking a bit while spreading your thighs wider apart, pressing a hand against the curve in your back to make you arch all that much more. 

“Nerves or Lust, Pretty Girl?” He inquired while palming your ass hard, spreading you apart while groaning, his eyes dropping once more to your pussy. Heat flared through you, mixed with straight up nerves that your traitorous brain was screaming at you to hide, a shiver raced through you to keep yourself still for him. 

“Both. I can’t shut up my head.” 

Curtis rumbled behind you, kissing the back of your thighs with a tenderness that you weren’t expecting in the moment. Your head dropped again to your folded arms to take a deep breath. “Honey, listen to me. I am barely keeping it together not to fuck you into this mattress right now. I love you and I want to do the filthiest things to you, make you scream my name and come on my cock so many times that our sheets will be fucking soaked. I promise I am gonna do that, all while enjoying every last inch of your body because its a fucking masterpiece I want to posses” 

That made you squirm, his words taking up the noise in your mind. A slight sharp bite to your ass cheek made you cry out for a moment, the shock of not knowing what he was gonna do making you more on edge. 

When his tongue finally flattened against your core, it was a maddening relief cause it felt so good, your hands gripped the sheets. Again he did it, this time with more pressure, teasing against your opening before sliding down to your clit. 

It was the feeling you had been craving, but it didn't nearly compare to when he claimed your clit, that little bundle of nerves being sucked on made you jump, as if to pull away. His hand steadied against your back, arching your back down in a firm touch. “Where do you think you are gonna go, Pretty Girl?” His head dipped between your thighs and plunged his tongue in between your folds once more. “Fuck, I’m not close to done with you.” 

“Curtis.” You moaned his name out, it was the only thing that could escape you at the moment. “Yes more.” 

He curled his tongue into you, clenching around his head with your thighs, he spread you apart again while he lapped at you. “Feels good doesn't it Pretty Girl, this cunt squeezing for more.” Sucking on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive nerve driving you to scream his name while fighting against his hold to snap your legs shut against his head again. 

Curtis felt you tensing, about to come for him when he pulled back. A frustrated gasp escaped you as you looked over your shoulder, glaring at him. There you were, you were out of that negative place in your mind, now focused on what he was doing to you, how he was making you feel. 

Just as it should be. 

“Curtis!” You sputtered with a slight wiggle to your hips. “I was so close.” 

“Mmmh… you were.” His hands rubbed the back of your thighs before digging into them with his fingers to spread them wide again. “But I wasn’t ready for you to end.” 

“This has to be some kind of torture.” You groaned with a drop of your head into your arms, making him bust into a deep chested laugh. 

“Some people like this kink.” He slid his hand in between your thighs, cupping your mound and sliding his fingers into you, groaning when he saw you clenching around his fingers. He stroked just right, making your earlier rush rise back up fiercer than before. Although you kept the arch in your back and your frustrated little huffs muffled, your ass wiggled enticing him to finish you. 

Again his touch pulled away, only to be replaced by his mouth again, tongue plunging into your sensitive core to entice you to give into him. 

“Please?” You gasped loudly, pushing yourself back to grind against him, his tongue flicking through your folds, his groan followed by a curse of how good you were. 

“I don’t know Pretty Girl, kinda like you like this.” He hummed as his cheek brushed against your tender inner thigh, causing them to shiver. You were gonna be raw after this. “All open and turning into a beautiful mess in bed.” 

You hid your smile, feeling his praise rush through you like a whole other sensation adding to everything else. It was a warm desire that flooded all your excitement. It spiraled heat down your spine and made you tighten, the rush overcoming you till you sighed into letting go. 

“Fuck look at you gush Honey.” His tongue is heavy against all your sensitive spots, making you squirm in your bent position. 

There was a grunt behind you while you twisted just enough to look over your shoulder at him. He had moved to a stand, your eyes widening at how ready his cock looked, hard and demanding, as if he knew you were staring at him, it twitched when his large hand wrapped around himself stroking his soaked fingers up and down himself. 

Curtis was always going on about how beautiful you were, but he himself was a sight to behold. Powerful body with the light dusting of hair covering his chest, everything taunt with need and desire. His gaze was darkened with lust as he looked at you offering yourself to him. 

That just made you renew your arch. 

“Now what's going through your head?” His hands covered your ass, a warm passionate caress.  

“That I want you to fuck me… I need you to fuck me.” You wriggled in his hold, his palm lightly coming down on your ass, enough to make you gasp wanting another one. 

“Need to be filled with cock? Is that what this is all about?” He let his cock head slip through your folds, rutting along you till he bumped against your clit. 

And it felt so good. 

“Come on Pretty Girl, you gotta answer me. You had my fingers and my mouth, you want my cock now?” 

He was absolutely maddening, making you hide your face as he called you out. Yes, you had those, but you still wanted this too. Tonight you wanted him to take you without you hiding yourself. “Yes.” 

“Mmmh you can do better than that Pretty Girl.” He thrusted through your folds again, not quite getting you exactly what you wanted, but it still felt so good. His hands curled through your hair, lifting your head while he nipped at your jaw, pressing his lips to your ear and groaning as your slick coated him. 

“Please? Curtis fill me.” 

Another angle had him sliding into you, fully so you felt him deep, the gasp escaping you. “I love you Honey.” he let his face fall to your shoulder, his arm shooting out to hold himself up as he curved over your back. His fisted hand twisted in your hair till you had to turn your head to give into the pressure, giving him all the room to tease your neck, especially at the pulse starting to race with each snap of his hip against your ass, making you jolt forward. “So fucking much Baby. Do you feel how deep I am?” His cock made you feel full, and his movements just drove him harder into you, you nodded as much as his tight hold allowed. His forward push drives you into the mattress. “Never want to leave you, not when I know you're made for me Honey.” 

“Oh god Curtis.” You whined, your cunt fluttering around his cock. 

You felt the press of his lips against you, his hips snapping faster to jolt you into the mattress. You grabbed onto the sheets to keep yourself from moving. His kisses were so gentle compared to the rest of him pressing against you, his weight crashing over you while he drove into you, leaving you feeling him all over. 

It was almost overwhelming in every way that made you feel good. 

Secure. 

Wanted. 

Your moans started to turn into sobs needing some relief as Curtis muttered to you, caging you in further between him and the bed. “I know Honey, I feel it too. Your just pulling me back in and fuck.” He hissed, his chest crashing to your back when he stopped holding himself up, but freeing his hand to glide underneath you. 

You wriggled underneath him when his fingers found your clit, twisting against it till you were ready to give in. A rush of energy locked you, riding a high so good as you cried Curtis’s name. 

“That’s my girl, fuck give it to me.” His thrusts grew erratic and hard, grabbing your waist to hold you still. “So fucking good Honey, making a mess all over me.” 

You were good, he made you feel good. You hoped he would get the same from you, even though now you were floating in an orgasmic haze. 

You managed to reach behind you and find his hand, tugging it till your fingers wrapped with yours. “Your turn Curtis.” You squeezed, tugging on him till he stretched out over you, his forehead leaning against your shoulder while his last few slap of his hips were pushing him to join you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You heard him grunt, and then a sharp roar while warmth flooded you. 

Your eyes closed out the bright bedroom lights as you finally sank into bliss, Curtis wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him like you were about to go somewhere. 

Which you certainly weren't, right now you couldn't fathom being able to move a muscle and you were pinned beneath him. 

Curtis wasn’t a small man, he firmly held you in place without even trying. He did shift against you though, kissing your shoulder while he pulled his sweaty body off of yours. 

You hated his pulling out, you always felt empty after. 

“Be right back.” He lightly skimmed his lips against your cheek while you hummed an okay at him. Curtling up a bit as the bed shifted with his movements. There was some noise in the room, but it wasn't long till Curtis was hovering over you, gently brushing your hair aside so he could see your face. “Honey, Pretty Girl you gotta get up.” 

How dare he make you move. “Don’t wanna.” You grumbled a bit, and he scooped in behind you, tugging you against his chest. 

“You gotta go get cleaned up Honey and I gotta fix our bedding… we made a mess.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. 

Indeed you two had left a wet spot on the sheets. You were about to cover your face in embarrassment, not even realizing when he said make a mess all over me, you actually were. He was quicker though, grabbing your hands in his own and keeping a hold on you. “Dont be embarrassed Honey, it was so fucking hot having you from behind like that.” 

“I didn’t know we got so carried away.” You admitted, turning your face into his to share a kiss finally, one he made sure went slow and sensual, passing soft sighs between each other. 

“That’s how we know it's good.” He winked, slowly letting you go now that he thought you weren’t gonna close up. He let his touch glide down to circle your waist, hugging you back against him for a few more minutes. “Next time I will lay down another blanket for us though.” 

That made you laugh a bit, finally stirring enough to sit up and make your way to the edge of the bed to prepare to go get cleaned up. “If you're planning on ruining me again like that, yes.” 

“Hey, I do believe you asked for it.” He caught up to you as you stood up, tugging you back into his lap so he could press teasing kisses on your neck, muttering. “Although I was one hundred percent planning on seducing you tonight.” 

“See, I was already screwed.” You giggled and he snorted into the crook of your neck, bursting into a deep laugh. 

“In more ways than one.” He helped ease you up so you could go take care of yourself and turned to strip the bed to replace the sheets. 

Overall he hoped that you were no longer worried about letting him see you in the light. 

[ppeonppeonhan]

The 10 Shows I DNF'd in 2024 — and the 6 I Should've

From Thailand, I nixed the vampire dramedy 1000 Years Old, because it was too goofy and took too long to get to the romance; Kidnap, because I was expecting a more badass version of Ohm; Two Worlds, because the MaxNat (see above) age difference is...unnerving; and 4 Minutes, because it was too dark and I'd already reached my limit for that type of romance with Dead Friend Forever back in the Spring.

From South Korea, I had to choose my sanity and stop watching Love in the Big City, which has some heavy mental health themes; and I also gave up on Blossom Campus pretty quickly, because after watching Boys Be Brave!, I decided no one in South Korea could top Ki Sub's cute, unhinged behavior.

From Japan, I could not sit through yet another emotionally abusive ML who is secretly in love with the human cupcake he crushes daily, so Cosmetic Playlover was deaded after episode 1; Love is Better the Second Time Around had a love interest that was both overconfident and a coward, which makes for an unappealing combination; Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (above) had an ill-advised yet chaste teacher-student romance; Takara No Vidro was just more of the same cat-dog dynamic that I'm growing weary of when there's not a more interesting element or electric connection; and the Love in the Air remake had its moments, but their version of Prapai x Sky just wasn't hitting.

Ok now for what I SHOULD'VE given up on, but foolishly powered through — all from Thailand:

I basically hate-watched Bad Guy My Boss, but I genuinely gave City of Stars (above) a shot. It was a faux high-stakes comedy about a celebrity risking his career to come out of the closet for his longtime crush. If it was 6 episodes tops, it would've covered everything it needed to, but producing twice as many and a special episode was excessive. It really just seemed like soft core with a slapped together plot.

But not as much as Sunset x Vibes (above). Ooof! That series was created purely to feed MosBank stans. A workplace romance where an intern accidentally falls for a mysterious man who turns out to be his boss was all that series needed to be, but no, they had to throw in a life-threatening, past-life myth. Like...pick a genre. Do it well.

I Saw You in a Dream also had a high concept: Guy develops the ability to see the future in his dreams and has to figure out how to save his childhood friend who's had a major crush on him for years. I was into it, but it dragged on for too long and the big bad villain turning out to be somebody's fake ex-bf was beyond anticlimactic. Also, aside from infantalizing your love interest, I also hate when a love interest plays up being a baby/younger to get away with stuff, but then immediately jumps to adult behavior. Like are you a child or an adult? His character was 20. It was weird.

Meanwhile, The Rebound had me in the first half. I've grown to love sports drama BLs. But it started to drag and the obstacles they faced with a gangster looming and an overbearing mother resolved so easily that it made the climax fall flat.

Sadly, the biggest disappointment was the Thai version of My Love Mix-Up. Fourth and Gemini did a great job per usual, but it was hella boring. And I say that having enjoyed the Thai remake of Cherry Magic. Not opposed to rewatching the same storyline, but I just couldn't get into it.

[flossylove]

Ahhh okay back again! I realise I literally have not been keeping up to date with my spam messages, but who cares, only I'm reading these to myself lolol.

So. THE CLIPS TONIGHT!!

OMG where do I even start? So I was working during the day, so thankfully time flew by for me - I actually couldn't imagine having to wait around all day, I would've gone crazy! I was so looking forward to tonight, because I'll be honest - this remake is definitely my favourite! Maybe it's because it's my first one I'm ever watching in real time, but I genuinely feel it's more than that. They've made so many positive changes (like, in my opinion making Roko less toxic than William first was), and the cast is just so incredible in bringing the characters to life!

Nora and Roko are so easily my favourite Noorhelm remake by far! Their chemistry just feels so real and authentic (and yes I understand that authenticity and reality is literally the core of SKAM, but some remakes just weren't able to achieve that, in my opinion, but these guys have!) Maybe, also, I just find them to be one of the most beautiful Noorhelm remakes too - sue a girl!!

Okay, back to the actual clips! Firstly, I'll be completely honest, when we got the 22:05 clip with Maša, and she was talking about someone not calling for 3 days.....I genuinely thought it was about a girlfriend! Turns out, nope! Just her mum! But still, I believe in queer Maša being canon. It just works, u know? Also, Nora being such a sweetheart in that clip? Ugh love love love her. My heart literally hurt to see Maša crying, like, please no, I already love her so much. Already I feel she's spoken more words than Linn ever did!

Now onto the 13 MINUTE CLIP!! OMGGGG! Like, I already knew/was hoping it'd be a long clip like in the OG. But, once again, SRAM just outdid itself! I really do love how many one shot scenes there are. Like, I don't think I've seen anyone else talk about that? IDK, maybe some people have and I just haven't been seeing it at all hahahaha. But I noticed it so much in Season 1, and I'm really glad they're keeping it within the filming style! It really adds character to SRAM being it's own thing as well. I feel there's too much to even talk about with that clip but ahhh - Eva and Nix? Hello?? Love them! Nix picking Nora up? And that comment about expecting her way earlier (just goes to show that SRAM is making an effort to actually build Nix and Roko's friendship. Like, in the OG, I swear sometimes William just wouldn't tell Chris anything, like, IDK, to me that never made sense! But in SRAM, we know Roko actually talks to Nix about Nora - which, ugh, I love, such a loverboy!).

I feel like they kinda brushed over Vanessa this clip? Like, she was there in the photos, with both Eva and Tina, and I think Nix too? So like, did she leave with Tina? I guess it makes sense, cos they live in the same neighbourhood, but the fact none of the girls even mentioned her was just....iffy Idk. Nothing too deep, just something I noticed.

Ahh, one thing I just remembered! Right at the start, when Eva introduces that guy to Nora, and says about it being funny if he was called Adam instead. I loved that little throwback to the OG. I don't know if anyone else figured that, but I immediately was like OMG! In OG SKAM, when Eva has the date (the one that happened last Friday, or at least was supposed to? before it fell through? The one Nora lied about being busy for!) it's with a guy called Adam, and Vilde makes the funny joke about them being Adam and Eva. At least, I think that's correct and I'm not going crazy...

Either way, onto the important stuff - Roko and Nora!! I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it. Their banter, their chemistry, the way they bounce off each other so naturally and get the same jokes, just really makes them so enjoyable! Like, yes OG will always have a place in my heart, but, like, sometimes, it felt as though William had no personality. No laughs, No jokes. No smiles. And I get it! The whole 'broody, but only smiley for the right girl' vibe he had going did work! But, like, we're 10 years into the SKAM remakes now, and I'm just really glad they made this change and gave Roko a solid character build-up. I hope I'm making sense hahahaha

I didn't even notice, cos I was too entranced by Nora's singing, but he actually joined in at one part? Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but he does do a little something, before he then starts playing on the synth? keyboard? idk. And he sounded good! I really hope there's a chance for us to see more of that in the future. Some people reckon that instead of it being an essay/article that William helped with, it'll be a song, or a musical project - and I'd really love to see that be true! Also, just a side bar, in the OG, I feel like, once again, with us getting minimal characterisation of William, the guitar was a little random. Like, it was just never mentioned again? I'm pretty sure? It's been a while since I did a Season 2 rewatch, but I just remember always thinking how that felt like it came out of nowhere, and then was never mentioned again? Hahaha. Whereas, like, Roko being into music, being a DJ, has been a key point in this storyline so far.

So, we've mostly covered the clip but still, I just wanna touch on how easily Roko was able to pick up Nora's slight discomfort about singing in front of him (for real, rather than just messing about) and he so quickly just backed away so she was comfortable. Like, that man is for one woman, and one woman only, and her name's Nora. Like, he is so down bad for her!! Which, ugh, as a single girl who's never dated, it's so refreshing, in the big year 2025, to see a representation of a guy not being afraid to have a crush? And yes, I know, like, he's still a teen boy, he still has flaws, and unfortunately his character is fictional, but still, I am loving getting to see him smile at her softly, and take her beauty in and just quietly appreciate her.

Can u tell I love them so much??

Okay, now finally onto the last clip of the episode!! SRAM finally broke their Saturday no clip rule! I don't even think it was/is a rule, they just never seemed to post on Saturdays. Like, at all. Although, saying this....maybe they did in Season 1? And I'm just being silly? IDK, it's too late for me right now and I should be sleeping but I needed to get these thoughts out!

Anyways, we got the clip!! I was so scared we weren't going to get anything following the end of the 13 minute clip, but I kept adding the clips together and was like... 'we should still have 3 minutes left of the episode???' so I wasn't giving up all faith on the sleepover clip!! And I'm glad I didn't!! Once again, I loved - but are we surrpised?? No, not really hahahah

I'm just really loving the way SRAM is putting this storyline together. Like, yes, do I wish I saw what happened in those two-ish hours between the clips? Hell yes. But, I also love how it wasn't all shoved together. So, I am simply living in my own delusion and saying that they spent all that time playing around with the synth and just messing with each other!

Sitting here, rewatching the clip for the 7th time already (note, it's only been 45 mins as I'm typing, since it got uploaded), I just. No words. Love it. I really liked how it started with a reasonable scenario, of Roko sleeping on the couch, but then Oh No, What A Shame, It Smells Of Beer, Guess He Better Sleep In His Bed Again!! And Nora's reaction? Girl, I see you.

The little barrier, iconic as ever!! Their banter about Vito too? The reach-over and breaking of the barrier, was such a small thing in this remake, but once again, I feel it really worked with the scene and Nora and Roko's characters. The physical contact will always get me! I am a physical contact girly, so you can imagine my reaction when in the clip before Roko touched Nora's waist!!

When Nora says she doesn't know how to turn off the light, the way the camera angle was looking, I genuinely thought we were gonna have Roko lean over to turn it off for her. Which, I get is unrealistic hahaha, but I would've loved it. To maybe have seen Nora panic a little as he got closer, get a little flustered... idk - I just can't wait to see Nora when she finally lets him in and fully embraces her crush hahaha

And I really liked how they did it so Roko lies in this version! Now hear me out! I don't condone lying haha, but this was such a little funny lie, about Vito being out with some chick. Like, Nora knowing he was fully lying and making it up, but instead of leaving and getting angry she just stays and jokes with him too. Like, Your Honour, they are in love. They both want to spend time together!

Roko's little smile as he says "You do like me a little." and looks over at her. Beautiful. Absolute Cinema. And the call back to 'Robi' at the end. I really hope they keep including this as a little inside joke between the two. I mean, Roko seems more than happy to respond to it!

The. Way. Roko. Moved. The. Pillows. And. Moved. Back. So. He. Was. Closer. To. Nora. Need I say anymore??? No, I didn't think so. It was so sweet to watch!!

Now finally, and I mean finally, promise I'll be done soon! I really recognised the piano track playing in the background as the camera started to spin around them. It's absolutely a famous piece, I just can't think of what one right now (it's so late, I need to be up in 5 hours this isn't good for me hahaha). But I really love it! And the camera moving - ugh! LOVED IT!

I don't know if anyone will think I'm crazy, but I kinda hope we get a clip tomorrow? Like, with them waking up. I know we won't, because we've gotten the whole episode in these clips. But, I could just imagine the little transition between clips. Like how they did in Season 1, with them panning over the bed with Eva and Jakov. From night to then the morning. I really loved that a lot last season! Made the transitions a bit more fun!

Like I said, it won't happen, but maybe in the future? In a possible future clip? IDK, this is me now just projecting hahaha

Okay, I think I'm all SRAMmed out for the night, so I'm gonna finish this here. I doubt anyone has even made it to the end, but if you did then wow, thank u for dealing with my ramblings! At the end of the day, I'm just a girl with too many thoughts in my head and no one to talk to about SRAM in real life hahaha

~ floss <3

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 20

˗ˏˋ DIY bracelets ˎˊ˗

"You were not expecting to really enjoy the MoMA exhibition, but Jungkook looks so interested and in his element that his energy is contagious. Even with a IUD in your uterus staging mutiny, and him trying to evade your questions throguh a DIY bracelet shop."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 10,4k

content: working hours at B&N, books, jk being goofy as usual, subway touches (what was that?), jk's genuine interest in photography, uterus pain, kids asking questions (lmao), jk being bff w boundaries as usual, soft conversations, avoiding certain topics, and making friendship bracelets (ew gay???) (p.s. i'm literally queer, shush it.)

✧ author's note ✧

*descends from the sky on a sparkly cloud of serotonin and unresolved sexual tension* GREETINGS, MY LITTLE PSYCHOTIC DAFFODILS. *ducks the knife thrown at my head* RUDE. *throws it back, it lands in someone’s thigh, probably Jungkook’s*

Okay okay okay okay. *deep breath.*

Hello, my beloved kikizens. If you’re reading this… I’m most likely abroad, roaming the earth like the girlboss nomad I pretend to be on Instagram, while in reality I’m crying over the outline of chapter 23 in the Notes app and eating overpriced airport pastries. Yes. I wrote this ahead of time. Yes. I am the most responsible irresponsible person you’ve ever met. Time traveling author note from Past!Kiki, sending love and ibuprofen to Future!You. Let’s hope the plane didn’t crash because, if so, Fuck Me Up Jungkook is now your responsibility. Please keep him fed and slightly emotionally constipated, just as I left him.

NOW. LET'S TALK. This chapter. THIS CHAPTER. We are entering the land of slow burn intimacy and micro-shifts in character dynamics that make me froth at the mouth. I need to scream about it. I am screaming about it. Nix at Barnes & Noble? A concept. Her choosing a retail job because she wants to save someone the way books saved her??? Yeah okay I'm totally fine, I'm just on the floor sobbing about it in a public bathroom.

AND JUNGKOOK. THAT BASTARD. Being respectful?? Giving her space while still being present?? Letting her lead and following her cues like a man who understands autonomy and emotional nuance??? Jail. Absolute jail. He’s so annoying and so HOT about it. I love writing him because he’s cocky and feral and dumb, but also deeply perceptive and compassionate when it counts. Like okay yes he's a little insufferable, but also, he's the kind of man who listens when you talk about your reproductive health without flinching and I think that's worth something.

Also. Let’s talk about the bracelets. Phoenix and Rogue. Fire-coded losers who pretend they don’t care while making color-coded matching jewelry??? WHO SAID YOU COULD BE CUTE. WHO SAID.

Anyway. This chapter is the beginning of a shift. A very soft shift. We’re not in love yet. We’re not even close. We are in that horrible, confusing, liminal space where friendship might be possible eventually but everyone’s still too scared and too stupid to say it out loud. They’re not friends yet. But they’re getting there. We’re watching in real time as they learn each other’s pressure points—what to push, when to pull back. It’s very ugh my chest hurts but also my heart is fluttering kind of vibe. Which is my favorite thing to write. Obviously.

Now. To talk about me, because I love attention: I’ve only been posting for a few months and I’m already overrun with WIPs like some kind of literary hoarder. It’s a problem. I start stories, then my ADHD bitchass brain says “new shiny idea???” and next thing I know I’m drowning in three AUs, an enemies-to-lovers high school AU I wrote at 3AM, and a secret smutty one-shot I can’t stop thinking about. It’s a whole ecosystem of chaos. But I do want to write them all. I do. I just also want to nap. And read. And rot.

So yeah. I think about y’all waiting for updates more than you know. I stress about it. I chew on it like emotional gum. My Spirk fic hasn’t updated in two months and it haunts me in my sleep. But I’m trying to accept that writing is better done when it feels good, not when I’m spiraling in guilt. So. If I ever start something and it takes me ages to finish, just know I do want to get there. I just move at the speed of depression and distraction.

AND A GENTLE REMINDER: this is a slow burn. A SLOW slow burn. Not the kind where they kiss in chapter 5 and you pretend it’s slow because they didn’t bang yet. No. I mean they will not start catching actual feelings for a while. There will be distractions. Other people, love interests. Awkwardness. Denial. You will watch them flounder. You will scream at your phone. You will think “surely they must realize it now,” and I will look you in the eyes and say, “no. no they do not.” Because the point is the journey. The point is the becoming. Not the kissing. (Okay fine also the kissing. But later.)

We are 20 chapters in, and I am being so serious when I say we are maybe… 20% into the full story. If that. I want to go all the way. From strangers to roommates to fuckbuddies to friends to best friends to oh my god it was you all along. I want to write every beat. Every change. Every stupid, messy, human moment. And yes. We will suffer. You, me, Nix, Jungkook, Yeji, Taehyung, everyone.

So I'd say sorry, but let's be honest, if you’re here right now—chapter 20, still with me—I know what kind of sick little freak you are. Masochist. You're not fooling anyone.

And I adore you for it. Thank you for choosing violence with me. Thank you for loving these two idiots. Thank you for reading. I mean it. So much.

Okay. Enough rambling. Go read. Go cry. Go scream. Tell your friends. Tattoo “Phoenix x Rogue” on your ass if you feel so inclined.

Mwah.

(Shameless reminder to support me on Ko-fi if you like my unhinged writing mess).

Edit because apparently I need to make this clear; my stories are extremely slow paced. This is STATED in the author’s INTRO I EXPLICITLY mention you must READ before delving into any of my works. I am tired of messages complaining about the pacing. You are warned beforehand. You chose to read this knowing it’s going to be slow as hell. Nobody is holding you hostage. If you’re bored, you can leave. I seriously don’t care. I am writing my stories because I crave this type of storytelling where everything is narrated in detail and nothing is glossed over. My readers know that and they choose to stay because they want the same thing. 80% of stories out there are fast-paced. I am catering to the people who want this type of organic development. If that’s not your thing, that’s absolutely fine. But you don’t get to complain and whine about something when there’s 100 fanfics out there you can read instead. You don’t get to come for me or my writing—lest of all my readers. I said what I said.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Books have always been your lifeline in a world that feels like it's trying to drown you.

You've loved them for as long as you can remember, though you can't pinpoint the exact moment they became your refuge. It wasn't a dramatic epiphany or a life-changing event. Just a gradual realization that between the pages of a book, you could breathe easier. 

Kafka speaks to the part of you that feels constantly out of step with the world (though you'd never admit that to Taehyung—his smug "I told you so" would be unbearable). 

Murakami paints surreal landscapes that make your own reality feel a little less suffocating. 

And now Donna Tartt, because you're tired of Jimin's scandalized gasps every time you confess to not having read her yet.

You weren't the stereotypical bookworm growing up. No thick glasses perched on your nose, no disdainful sniffs at the mention of pop culture. You didn't turn your nose up at Harry Styles concerts or roll your eyes at school dances. 

But even as you navigated the treacherous waters of adolescence—first periods and friendship fallouts, the constant drama of simply existing as a teenager—books were always there. 

A constant, even if sometimes pushed to the background.

They became your armor when the weight of expectations threatened to crush you. When disappointment hung heavy in the air, threatening to send you away in a chokehold, you'd retreat into worlds made of paper and ink. 

It was easier to face fictional monsters than the very real ones lurking in parent-teacher conferences and college application deadlines.

Now, standing amidst the shelves of Barnes & Noble, surrounded by the comforting smell of new books and possibility, you can't help but feel a sense of belonging. Like you've come full circle. From the little girl who used to hide under her covers with a flashlight, devouring stories long past bedtime, to the woman who's made words her life's work.

It's not always easy. 

Sometimes the words on the page blur together, your mind too full of real-world worries to lose yourself in fiction. 

But even then, the weight of a book in your hands is grounding. 

A reminder that there are always other worlds to explore, other lives to live, if only for a few hundred pages.

Maybe that's why you're here, arranging displays and recommending titles to strangers. 

Because somewhere out there is another person drowning in expectations, desperate for a lifeline. 

And maybe, just maybe, you can be the one to hand them the right book at the right moment—help them with their very own small act of rebellion against a world that sometimes feels too heavy to bear.

Mark hovers nearby as you arrange a new display of bestsellers, lanky frame, loose shirt and baggy pants. He's the one who picked up your application when you and Yeji came in last week—the one with the kind eyes and the nervous habit of clutching his hands together every five seconds.

Blonde, blue-eyed. You’d dare say he’s not bad-looking. For a man.

"So basically," he explains, voice pitched low like he's sharing state secrets instead of retail procedures, "most days you'll either be on register, floor assistance, or shelving. Today you're just shadowing me on the floor."

Floor assistance, as it turns out, is mostly wandering around looking approachable (but not too approachable) and occasionally directing lost souls to the bathroom or the manga section. You're also expected to straighten displays, check for misplaced books, and maintain what Mark calls "the Barnes & Noble aesthetic."

"Which means?" you ask, adjusting a copy of the latest Sally Rooney that's slightly out of alignment with its siblings.

"You know," he shrugs, hands doing that awkward hovering thing again, "like... cozy but sophisticated. Inviting but not cluttered."

You nod like this makes perfect sense, though privately you think it sounds like the kind of bullshit corporate memo someone got paid way too much to write.

"What about recommendations?" you ask. "Do we have any input on displays or—"

"Oh, totally!" His face brightens. "We each get to curate an employee picks shelf. You can start working on yours next week."

That, at least, sounds promising. 

Already your mind is cataloging possibilities—perhaps a mix of classics and contemporary, maybe something unexpected thrown in. Definitely not the usual suspects everyone claims to have read but hasn't.

And just like that, the morning quickly blurs into afternoon. 

Your tasks are the same all day: shelving, straightening, and following Mark around as he points out the minutiae of bookselling. It's mindless work, but not unpleasant. There's something soothing about putting things in order, about knowing exactly where everything belongs.

By the time your lunch break rolls around, you've settled into a comfortable groove. The break room is empty except for you and your sad turkey sandwich, the ancient TV in the corner playing a rerun of The Office. One where Jim is pulling some elaborate prank on Dwight. You find yourself smiling despite the mediocrity of your lunch.

The afternoon passes in much the same way—quiet, uneventful, almost peaceful. You help an elderly woman find the latest Louise Penny mystery. You alphabetize a section of poetry that looks like it's been hit by a tornado. You dust shelves that probably haven't seen a feather duster since Obama was president.

And then, suddenly, it's 5 PM.

You glance at your phone, mildly surprised that eight hours have passed without a single customer meltdown or retail horror story. No one has asked to speak to your manager. No one has tried to return a clearly read book with coffee stains on page 47. No one has even approached you with one of those vague "I'm looking for a book with a blue cover about a thing that happens" requests.

In fact, you've barely interacted with customers at all. It wasn't your turn on register, and most browsers seemed content to wander without assistance. 

It's been... nice. 

Quiet. 

The kind of job where you can disappear into your own thoughts for stretches at a time.

You could get used to this, you think, clocking out and grabbing your bag from the locker. 

Maybe it won't be the soul-crushing retail experience Yeji warned you about. Maybe you've lucked into the unicorn of part-time jobs—one that pays the bills without completely draining your will to live.

Or maybe it's just the first-day honeymoon period, and next week you'll be dealing with entitled parents who think the children's section is a free daycare.

Either way, as you push through the employee exit into the early evening air, you feel a strange sense of… accomplishment? 

Surely, it's not saving lives or changing the world, but you can’t deny it’s satisfying; a day spent surrounded by books, putting things in order, creating small pockets of calm in a chaotic world.

And now, apparently (because God forbid the universe lets you forget) you have plans. 

With Jungkook, of all people. 

The thought should make you anxious.

It doesn’t.

You check your phone and see his text:

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚊? 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 

You scan the street and spot him leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through his phone, looking unfairly good in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Your roommate. Your sometimes-hookup. Your... friend?

The word still feels strange, but maybe it's time to try it on for size.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚒'𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 1𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚙𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 ��𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚛𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 🙄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚟

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚑𝚝𝚘

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚋𝚝𝚠 𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚡 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚗𝚘 𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚞 𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚝𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚏

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚑𝚝𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝟹𝟸𝟷

You spot him leaning against the lamppost, scrolling on his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, black t-shirt fitting just right—not too tight, not too loose. It’s casual. Effortless. 

And yeah, you’ve seen him in casual before—sweats, pajamas, even that stupid hoodie he refuses to throw out—but this is different. This is casual street Jungkook in the wild, outside the apartment. 

Casual street Jungkook who’s here with you to do something normal and non-sexual and… friendly.

He looks good. But then again, you already knew that. There’s a reason you fuck him despite his infuriating personality. 

Even when he says things that make you want to strangle him with his own belt.

He catches sight of you approaching and grins, that stupid lopsided grin that’s all teeth and confidence. 

“Hey,” he says, voice light like this is just another day.

You don’t respond. Don’t even look up from your phone as your thumb swipes through apps in search of Maps. 

“We have a twenty-minute ride from Union Square to the MoMA,” you say flatly. “The exhibit starts in thirty-five, so let’s go.”

“Sure,” he says easily, pushing off the lamppost with a lazy shrug. “What line?”

“N, Q, R—whichever comes first.” You finally glance up at him as you say it, but only briefly. Just long enough to catch the slight raise of his eyebrows before he nods.

“Okay.”

And then you’re walking side by side toward the subway entrance like this is normal. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve agreed to spend time together without sex as the unspoken endgame.

The stairs down to the subway are crowded—typical for a weekday evening—and you both swipe your cards at the turnstile without a word. There’s a guy pissing in one corner of the station (because of course there is), and Jungkook widens his eyes in a grimace like he’s trying to wipe away the sight of it. You don’t comment, just keep moving toward the platform like nothing happened.

It shouldn’t feel awkward. It’s never been awkward with him before—not even when things got messy or complicated or downright stupid between you two. 

But now? 

Now it feels like there’s this invisible weight hanging between you, pressing down on every step you take together.

Maybe it’s because he brought up that whole “trying to be friends” thing this morning—friends who have expectations, and expectations lead to disappointment, and disappointment leads to losing control.

Or maybe it’s because now that he said it out loud—now that he put friendship on the table—you can’t stop overthinking every little thing about this outing. 

What does he expect from you? Does he want small talk? Does he want silence? Is this supposed to feel casual or meaningful or something else entirely?

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you both stop near the edge of the platform. He’s standing close but not too close—hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on some ad plastered across the opposite wall. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or tense or anything remotely resembling how you feel right now.

Which makes sense because Jungkook never overthinks anything. He just does whatever feels right in the moment and deals with the consequences later (if at all). 

It’s one of the things that drives you crazy about him—and maybe one of the things you secretly envy.

The train isn’t here yet, so now what? Do you say something? Ask him about his day? Pretend this is normal and fine and not at all weird for you?

“So…” Your voice comes out hesitant—too hesitant—and you immediately hate yourself for it. 

Nice going, stupid bitch.

He glances at you but doesn’t say anything right away, waiting for you to finish whatever thought you’re trying (and failing) to articulate.

“What did… what did you do?” You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as if that’ll somehow make this less painful for both of you. “Until… y’know… five?”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smirk—like he knows exactly how much effort it took for you to ask such a simple question—and for some reason that makes you want to shove his head against the next train.

“Not much,” he says finally, his tone casual but not dismissive. “Watched some YouTube tutorials. Tried making sourdough again.”

You blink at him. “Sourdough?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like baking bread is just a totally normal thing for someone like him to do in their free time. “Didn’t come out great though.”

“Oh.” 

You don’t know what else to say to that—to him—so instead you just nod and glance down at your phone again like there’s something urgent demanding your attention.

But then, as if destiny decided (for once) to make things easier for you, the train arrives with its usual screech of brakes and rush of stale air, saving you from having to come up with any more awkward small talk on the platform.

So you step onto the train together—side by side but not touching—and you can’t help but wonder if this whole ‘trying to be friends’ thing is going to be harder than either of you realized.

Inside Jungkook moves instinctively to the metal bar overhead, reaching up to steady himself as the train lurches forward. You follow suit, your fingers wrapping around the same bar just a few inches away from his.

It’s fine. It’s normal. People share subway bars all the time. Nothing weird about it.

Except your hand shifts slightly as the train rounds a corner, and suddenly your pinky brushes against his. Just barely—a fleeting touch—but it’s enough to make you freeze for half a second.

And… 

You don’t look at him. 

You refuse to look at him. 

Because if you do, you’ll see that stupid smirk he always gets when he knows he’s gotten under your skin, and you’re not sure you can handle that right now.

But then his hand shifts too—like, on purpose?—and his pinky brushes yours again. 

Softer this time. 

Lingering.

Your stomach twists in a way that feels equal parts annoying and… something else you don’t want to name. You glance up at him despite yourself, ready to snap something sarcastic or dismissive or whatever it takes to make this moment feel less charged than it suddenly does.

But he’s not smirking. He’s just… looking at you. Calmly. Quietly. Like this is nothing more than two people sharing a subway bar in a crowded train.

And maybe it is nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking it because that’s what you do—because every little thing with him feels like it carries more weight than it should.

Still, when his fingers shift again—this time curling slightly so the side of his hand presses against yours—you don’t pull away. 

You don’t say anything either, just let your fingers relax against the bar as the train rattles onward.

It’s small. Subtle. Barely even noticeable in the grand scheme of things.

But somehow, in the cramped chaos of the subway car—with strangers pressed against you on all sides—it feels like the quietest moment you’ve had all day.

You don’t look at him again—not directly—but out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Not cocky or teasing or anything remotely resembling his usual expressions.

Just soft.

And for some reason, that makes your throat tighten all over again.

You never expected to find Jungkook beautiful.

He stands in front of a massive black and white photograph with his head tilted slightly and dark brown eyes narrowed in concentration.

The lightning inside the space makes everything feel way more thought-provoking than it actually is. All you notice, really, is how it deepens the line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his eyebrows. His lips, and how they move silently, like he's having some private conversation with the image before him.

Stupid, handsome motherfucker. Why does he exist in your space?

You've seen him naked. You've seen him laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch. You've seen him half-asleep and grumpy at 6 AM.

But you've never seen him like this—completely absorbed, genuinely focused on something that isn't getting laid or annoying the shit out of you.

"The composition is fucking incredible," he says without looking at you, gesturing at the photograph. "See how they've used negative space to draw your eye to the subject? And the depth of field is so deliberate—keeps you just slightly off-balance."

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden technical analysis. Since when does Jungkook know smart words?

"You actually know about photography?" It comes out more surprised than you intended.

He turns to you then, one eyebrow raised. "Film major, Nix. Kind of comes with the territory."

"Yeah, but—" You stop yourself, not sure how to articulate that you assumed his interest in film was mostly about looking cool and impressing girls.

"But what?"

"Nothing," you mutter, moving closer to the photograph. "Just didn't realize you paid attention in class."

He snorts. "I maintain my GPA through pure charm and good looks alone. No actual knowledge required."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Seriously though, you seem like you actually know what you're talking about. It's... weird."

"Weird that I'm not a complete idiot?" He steps back from the photograph, hands sliding into his pockets. "Gee, thanks."

"That's not what I meant."

He shrugs, already moving toward the next piece—a series of distorted portraits that seem to melt into one another.

"I just like this stuff. Always have."

You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Since when?"

"Since forever," he says, stopping in front of the portraits. "My mom was into photography. Had this old Pentax she used to carry everywhere. Taught me how to develop film in our bathroom when I was like, eight."

His voice always turns weirdly soft when his mom is involved. It makes you pause.

This is the most he's ever shared about his family, you realize.

You're not sure whether to press further or let it go.

Before you can decide, he continues, "These portraits are using multiple exposure. See how the faces blend together? It's like—when you overlay two negatives, you get this ghost effect. The new digital stuff makes it easier, but there's something about doing it on actual film that hits different."

His enthusiasm is... surprising. And weirdly contagious. You find yourself leaning in closer to see what he's pointing out, actually interested in the technical explanation.

"The photographer probably used a really slow shutter speed too," he adds, gesturing at the blurred edges of the subjects' features. "Makes movement look like this—sort of ethereal, you know?"

You don't know, not really, but you nod anyway.

Because his voice picks up speed when he talks about this, his hands do slightly more animated movements as he explains, and there’s genuine passion coloring his words and it’s…

It's... different. Seeing him care about something so much.

"What?" he asks suddenly, catching you staring at him.

You hadn't realized you were. Heat creeps up your neck, and you look away quickly.

"Nothing."

"Nah, you were looking at me weird."

"Just..." You shrug, aiming for casual. "You're a huge nerd, that's all."

He blinks at you, then barks out a laugh. "Wow. I share my vast knowledge and expertise, and that's what I get?"

"Vast knowledge? Your head barely fits in the room as it is."

"That's it," he declares, turning away dramatically. "I'm not explaining anything else. Figure it out yourself, philistine."

You swat at his arm, fighting a smile. "Oh come on, I was joking. Keep nerding out. It's..." Cute? Interesting? Surprisingly not annoying? "...Educational."

He gives you a suspicious look but seems mollified. "Fine. But only because I'm generous with my brilliance."

You snort, following him to the next piece. "So generous."

And it's strange, this feeling—this easy back-and-forth that doesn't have the usual sharp edges.

For a moment, it almost feels like you could be friends. Real friends, not just roommates who occasionally fuck and mostly argue.

The thought is so unexpected that it—

Pain.

Sharp and sudden, like someone stabbing a hot poker into your lower abdomen. Your breath catches, body instinctively curling in on itself.

Your hand flies to your stomach as another wave hits, this one even more intense than the first.

It's the IUD again—has to be. But this is worse than before. Much worse.

You stop walking, one hand gripping the nearby wall for support as you try to breathe through it.

Just breathe. It'll pass. It has to.

It doesn't.

The third wave nearly brings you to your knees, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead.

Jungkook makes it several steps before realizing you're no longer beside him. He turns back, eyes falling on your hunched form, and his expression shifts instantly from relaxed to concerned.

"Yo, what's wrong?" He's back at your side in three quick strides, voice pitched low but urgent.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak yet. Just need a minute. Just need to breathe.

"Phoenix?" His hand hovers near your elbow, not quite touching. "Hey, talk to me. What's happening?"

"It's—" Another stab of pain cuts you off, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. "It's nothing. Just—cramps."

His frown deepens, eyes scanning your face.

"Bullshit. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," you insist. "Just give me a second."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but the alternative is worse.

Admitting weakness? Letting him see you crumble?

Absolutely fucking not.

Your uterus twists again—sadistic little organ—and you clench your jaw so hard you're surprised your teeth don't crack.

Breathe. Just breathe. You've handled worse.

(Have you, though?)

He's hovering now, that frown cutting deeper between his eyebrows, and you hate it.

Hate how his eyes flick over your face, cataloging symptoms.

Hate how his hand lifts halfway toward you before dropping back to his side, like he's afraid to touch you without permission.

"Ibuprofen," you manage, the word strained but determined. "I just need some ibuprofen."

"Nix, you seriously look like you're about to pass out—"

"Ibuprofen," you cut him off, sharper this time. "Seriously. I'll be okay. Just need. Ibuprofen."

You're not going home. Not happening.

You just got this fucking copper IUD on Wednesday—of course it's being a bitch. Three days of cramping is normal, right? Has to be.

And this is your first real attempt at being normal humans together, plus it's his birthday and Yoongi's expecting you to keep him out until eight. Your goddamn uterus is not ruining this.

A particularly vicious cramp rips through you, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Jungkook notices, because of course he does. His eyes narrow, jaw working like he's physically biting back whatever argument he wants to make.

Finally, he sighs—loud, frustrated, dramatic in that way only he can be.

"Okay."

The surrender in his voice shouldn't feel like a victory, but it does. Even as another cramp threatens to fold you in half.

"Okay," he repeats, softer. "Let me see if I can get you one. Just—wait here, alright?"

He wraps his fingers around your elbow, not gripping, just guiding, and you let him because walking feels like a monumental task right now. .

Focus. One foot, then the other.

There's a cushioned bench a few feet away. A kid sits at one end, maybe seven or eight, swinging his legs and staring at the floor with the bored expression of someone dragged to a museum against his will.

Jungkook walks you toward it, his hand steady on your arm.

"Hello," he says to the boy, voice gentler than you've ever heard from him. "Sorry, my friend over here is in pain and really needs to sit down."

The kid looks up—first at Jungkook, then at you—eyes widening slightly. He doesn't say anything, just scoots over, fingers drifting to his mouth as he continues to stare.

"Thanks, buddy," Jungkook says, helping you sit.

You sink onto the bench, the relief immediate but not enough. It still feels like someone's playing Operation with your insides, fishing out organs with a pair of rusty pliers.

Jungkook lingers for a second, hesitant.

"You sure you'll be okay if I—"

"Go," you grit out, not trusting yourself to say more.

He gives you one last look—concerned, frustrated, something else you can't name—before turning and striding away with purpose, disappearing around a corner.

And then it's just you, the kid, and the agony twisting through your abdomen.

Great. Fantastic. You can't even make it through one normal human interaction without your body staging a fucking rebellion.

Every time you try to—what? Be a decent person? Spend time with someone who isn't Yeji? The universe laughs in your face.

The kid is still staring at you, blue eyes huge in his small face. You force what you hope is a reassuring smile but suspect looks more like a grimace.

"Your face is becoming white," he says matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," you mutter. "I'm aware."

"Like a ghost," he adds helpfully. "Are you gonna throw up?"

Jesus Christ. This is your life now. Being assessed by a tiny human while your reproductive system wages war against the rest of your organs.

"No," you say, though you're not entirely sure that's true. "Just need some medicine."

"My mom says medicine is for when you're really sick," he informs you, kicking his heels against the bench. "Are you really sick?"

Another twist of pain, and you have to close your eyes for a second.

"Something like that."

"Is that man your boyfriend?"

God, children and their questions. No filter, just an endless stream of curiosity with no regard for social niceties.

You should lie.

Should say yes, it would be simpler than explaining the complicated mess that is you and Jungkook.

"No," you say instead. "Just a... friend."

The word still feels strange. Foreign. Like you're saying it in a language you barely speak.

"Oh." The kid looks disappointed. "He looks like a superhero."

Despite everything—the pain, the frustration, the growing concern that the gyno didn't warn you about this level of copper IUD hell—you almost laugh.

Because Jungkook? Oh he would fucking love that. His ego is already the size of Manhattan; the last thing he needs is child-based validation of his supposed heroism.

"More like a supervillain," you mutter.

The boy's eyes widen further. "Really?"

"No, not really. Just a regular person who's..." You pause, not sure how to finish that sentence.

Annoying? Complicated? Stupidly attractive even when he's being insufferable?

"...helping me out."

You press your palm harder against your abdomen, hoping the pressure will somehow counteract the pain. But truthfully, it doesn't. If anything, it's getting worse, spreading from your core outward until your lower back aches and your thighs feel weak.

This can't be normal.

Well, maybe it is.

You've never had an IUD before—what the hell do you know?

Clearly should've read beyond the first page of that pamphlet they gave you, but you were too busy trying not to think about the actual insertion part.

"I have lots of friends," the kid announces proudly. "But none of them are girls."

He wrinkles his nose like this is the most disgusting concept imaginable.

Despite everything—the pain, the frustration, the knowledge that this day is slowly derailing—you almost smile.

"Girls aren't so bad."

He shrugs, unconvinced. "They like stupid stuff."

"So do boys."

"Nuh-uh. Boys like cool things. Like dinosaurs."

"Girls can like dinosaurs too."

He considers this, head tilted.

"I guess. My sister doesn't though. She just likes her stupid boyfriend." The contempt in his voice is impressive for someone whose feet don't touch the floor.

You're saved from further insights into his sister's love life by Jungkook's return. He's walking toward you with a small paper cup in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, his expression still caught between concern and that strange new softness.

"Got you covered," he says, dropping into a crouch in front of you. "They had a first aid station. Ibuprofen and water."

You take the pills and water with hands that shake slightly, downing them quickly.

"Thanks."

He sits beside you on the bench, close but not touching—some sort of distance that feels both considerate and maddening.

You realize now Jungkook is not one to push boundaries. Not when they’re firm, not when you’ve made them clear. Like when you told him this thing between you two stayed between you two and he just accepted it.

"Should take about twenty minutes to kick in," he says, voice low and even.

You nod, focusing on your breathing.

In and out. Slow and steady. Just get through this. You've handled worse.

(Have you, though? Because right now it feels like your insides are trying to claw their way out.)

"We can go home," he offers, so subsided it's almost comical coming from him. "If you want."

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended, and you soften it with, "No, I'm fine. Just need a minute."

He doesn't argue, just nods like he expected this answer.

Of course he did.

He knows you're stubborn, knows you hate showing weakness, knows you'll suffer through just about anything to avoid admitting you can't handle it.

The silence stretches between you, but it's not uncomfortable. Not exactly. It's... waiting. Patient. And you note how his knee bounces slightly, the only sign of restless energy in his otherwise still form.

"Thanks," you say again, quieter this time.

He glances at you, surprise flitting across his features.

"For what?"

"For not..." You gesture vaguely, searching for the right words. "Making it a thing."

His lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite.

"It's your body, Nix. Your call."

Something warm and unexpected unfurls in your chest at that—at the simple acknowledgment of your autonomy, your right to decide how to handle your own pain.

He could push. Could insist on taking you home, on calling a doctor, on making decisions for you "for your own good."

It's what most people would do, have always done, their concern overriding your independence.

But he doesn't.

Just sits beside you, a quiet presence in the middle of this mess, respecting your boundaries even as his knee keeps bouncing with what you suspect is concern he's trying not to voice.

It's... nice. Weird, but nice.

The kid on the bench has gone quiet, watching both of you with curious eyes. His mother appears suddenly, a harried-looking woman with a museum map clutched in one hand.

"Aiden, there you are! I told you not to wander off." She gives you and Jungkook an apologetic smile. "Sorry if he bothered you."

"He's fine," Jungkook says, easy and casual. "Just keeping us company."

Aiden slides off the bench, taking his mother's outstretched hand.

“They're friends," he informs her solemnly. "But not boyfriend and girlfriend."

His mother looks mortified. "Aiden!"

"It's okay," you manage, fighting back a laugh that would probably hurt like hell. "He's just observant."

Aiden's mother drags him away, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor as he waves one last time.

And then it's just the two of you, sitting in silence on a bench in the middle of the MoMA like you belong there. Like this is normal.

All the while, the pain persists, still twisting through your abdomen.

Jungkook hums quietly—something soft and melodic that takes you a moment to recognize.

John Mayer. Of course it's fucking John Mayer.

Your gaze drifts to the floor, tracing the patterns in the polished concrete as another thought forms, heavy and insistent.

Should you tell him? About the IUD?

He's worried. You can see it in his eyes, the way his fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking.

But he's not pushing. Not demanding explanations or insisting on taking you home.

Because that's not what he does.

He suggests, offers, hints... but never forces. Never demands.

Just accepts whatever you're willing to give, even when it's clear he wants more.

This morning he talked about being friends. About sharing things. About being more than just roommates who occasionally fuck and mostly argue.

Maybe this could be a first step. A tiny gesture toward whatever it is he's proposing.

But also...

Also what if you tell him and he smirks? Makes some stupid joke about how you wanted him raw that badly?

You know how quickly he covers discomfort with humor, how reliably he turns to sexual innuendo when a moment gets too real or too heavy.

And this moment is nothing if not heavy.

But overthinking it is getting you nowhere, and the silence is stretching too long, becoming its own kind of weight.

So you take a breath, summon what little courage the pain hasn't eaten away, and speak.

"I got an IUD." The words come out soft, hushed, almost hoping he won't hear them. "Wednesday."

His head tilts toward you, and you brace yourself. Wait for the snort, the smirk, the inevitable sexual commentary that will make you regret this tiny moment of trust.

But it never comes.

He just sighs softly, a small shrug lifting his shoulders.

"That's good."

Your eyes drift to him, confusion replacing the defensive tension you were building, because what does he mean?

He meets your gaze, then looks back at the photograph on the wall.

“I mean, it's good you're taking care of yourself. Your sexual health." Another shrug, this one smaller. "That's good, Nix."

Something in your chest loosens—a knot you didn't realize you were holding tight.

It's... not what you expected. Not from him.

Not from anyone, really.

"Yeah, well." You shift on the bench, wincing as the movement sends a dull throb through your lower abdomen. "Not feeling particularly great about it at the moment."

His lips quirk, not quite a smile.

"Pain that bad?"

"Like someone's playing Operation with my insides, but they're losing."

A soft laugh escapes him. "Fucking brutal."

"Pretty much."

Another stretch of silence, but this one feels different. Lighter, somehow. The pain is still there, but it's muted now, less all-consuming.

"Copper or hormonal?" he asks, voice casual like he's asking about the weather, not your reproductive choices.

You blink at him, genuinely surprised.

"You know the difference?"

"I do actually pay attention in health class, Phoenix. Plus, you know. Been with people who've had them."

"Copper," you answer, focusing on the question instead of whatever that feeling was. "I had a feeling hormones would mess with me."

He nods like this makes perfect sense. "Those are the ones that hurt more at first, right? Take longer to settle?"

Again, that surprise. "Yeah. How do you know that?"

"My ex." He shifts slightly on the bench, angling more toward you without actually moving closer. "She had one. Copper. Cramped like hell the first few months."

"Months?" The word comes out more alarmed than you intended.

His eyes widen slightly. "Not like, continuously. Just periodically. Mostly when she got her period. It got better though. Less intense over time."

"Great," you mutter. "Something to look forward to."

"Sorry." He winces. "Not helping, am I?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you..." He hesitates, eyes scanning your face like he's checking for warning signs. "Do you regret getting it?"

The question catches you off guard. Not because it's invasive—it's actually pretty reasonable given the context—but because of how genuinely he asks it. Like he really wants to know what you think. Not to judge, just to understand.

"No," you say after a moment. "No, I don't regret it. I wanted it. Chose it. This—This is just the shitty part. It'll pass."

"And this is something you want? Long-term?"

You nod, a little less certain than before but still sure enough.

"Yeah. I like not having to worry about it. Worth some pain now."

"Make sense. That's... smart." He tilts his head, that thoughtful look you rarely see crossing his features. "Planning ahead."

"One of us has to," you say without thinking.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Ouch. Direct hit, Nix."

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Nah, it's fair." He cuts you off with a small laugh. "I'm not exactly Mr. Responsibility."

The self-awareness surprises you.

"You're not that bad."

"I’m not?”

“Okay I take it back.”

He chuckles.

The pain stabs again, sharper this time, and you can't quite hide the wince. His expression shifts immediately.

"Need to move around? Sometimes that helps."

You consider it. Sitting here isn't doing much except letting you focus on how much it hurts.

“Maybe."

"Think the ibuprofen's kicking in at all?"

His eyes scan your face, and you wonder what he sees there. Probably not the composed, controlled person you're trying to project.

"A little. It's not as bad as before."

"That's something." He stands, offering a hand but not insisting when you ignore it and push yourself up on your own. "We could head to the next gallery? Or go back to the one with that series you liked—the urban decay stuff."

The fact that he noticed which photographs caught your interest earlier shouldn't feel significant. It's just basic observation. Nothing special.

But it does. Feel significant, that is.

"Let's try the next one," you say, taking a tentative step. The pain doesn't immediately floor you, which is an improvement. "Slowly, though."

"No rush." He falls into step beside you, hands shoved in his pockets in that casual way he has, like he's completely at ease no matter where he is.

You nod, trying not to think about the surprise dinner. Trying even harder not to think about the stupid Mayer vinyl you bought him and the fact that all his film bros will be there.

"Thanks," you say after a few steps. "For not being weird about the IUD thing."

He glances at you, something almost like surprise flickering across his features before settling into a small smile.

“Nothing to be weird about. It's your body, Nix. Your choice."

"Yeah, but." You struggle to articulate what you mean. "Most guys would make some gross joke or get all squirmy talking about it."

"I'm not most guys."

"Okay pick me boy."

“And here we go again.” He snorts.

“Hey, you’re the one who said that generic ass shit.”

"Uh-uh, so," he says, deliberately casual as you round the corner into the next gallery space. "How do you feel about Mayer?"

You groan, shoving him lightly.

"I knew it. I fucking knew you were humming that shit on purpose."

He laughs, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine.

"Gravity is a classic! You can hate on the man all you want, but you can't deny the music."

"Watch me."

And just like that, you're arguing about John Mayer in the middle of the MoMA, the pain still there but somehow less important than this stupid debate about whether "Your Body Is A Wonderland" is the worst song ever written or just mostly terrible.

It's strange. Unexpected. Almost... nice

Maybe this friend thing isn't completely impossible after all.

New York smells different right before sunset.

The city air mellows somehow. Still dirty, still chaotic, but softer now. Like the golden hour light filtering through the buildings is actually changing the molecular structure of everything it touches.

Or maybe that's just the ibuprofen finally kicking in and making life worth living again. Hard to say.

Your phone pings as you walk beside Jungkook, the busy street full of that weird liminal energy between work day and evening. People rushing home, people headed out, everyone caught in that transitional space of not-quite-done and not-quite-started.

It's Yoongi, his message simple and direct:

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙷𝚘𝚠’𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔?

You glance at Jungkook, who's completely absorbed in his own phone, thumbs tapping absently against the screen.

Focused. Unaware.

Perfect.

You send back a quick thumbs up emoji, ignoring the follow-up questions Yoongi's already typing. The less you engage, the less likely you are to give something away.

6:30 PM.

Just over an hour until you need to steer Jungkook to the ramen place for his surprise. An hour to fill without either dying from secret uterine rebellion or accidentally revealing the plan.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and lean slightly to see what's so captivating on Jungkook's screen.

Not that you care. Just curious. Normal curious, not weird curious.

Instagram?

He's editing a photo—one of the abstract architectural shots he took at the museum when you weren't paying attention.

It's actually... pretty good.

The photo highlights the sharp angles of the stairwell, light cutting through the space in a way that transforms something mundane into something almost ethereal.

"You have a photography Instagram?"

He startles, immediately angling the phone away from you with the guilty reflex of someone caught looking at porn in public.

"Yeah, but it's nothing important. Just, you know. Silly stuff."

That's... suspicious. Jungkook doesn't do self-deprecation, not about things he's clearly good at.

He's the first person to brag about his skills, his looks, his whatever. The fact that he's downplaying this is weird.

"What silly stuff?" You raise an eyebrow, trying to peer around his shoulder at the now-hidden screen. "Show me."

"No, seriously, it's no big deal." He actually puts his phone in his pocket, which is basically equivalent to locking it in a vault given how attached he usually is to the thing. "Just a hobby."

"Since when are you shy about anything?" You nudge his arm with your elbow, oddly intrigued by this sudden reluctance. "Come on, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours."

"Not everything has to be an innuendo, Phoenix."

"That wasn't—" You stop yourself, because okay, that did sound suggestive. "Come on, I let you drag me through an entire photography exhibition. The least you could do is let me see your supposed 'silly' photography Instagram."

He's not looking at you now, eyes fixed somewhere to the left, scanning the street like he's searching for an escape route.

Then his face changes, relief washing over his features as he spots something across the way.

"Hey, wanna check that out?"

He points toward a small storefront wedged between a vintage clothing shop and a bubble tea place. The sign reads 'String Theory: DIY Jewelry & Crafts' in quirky hand-painted letters.

"A bracelet shop?" You follow his gaze, genuinely confused by the abrupt change of subject. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not?" He's already moving toward the crosswalk, clearly eager to leave the Instagram conversation behind. "Could be fun."

"Since when do you care about DIY bracelets?"

He shrugs, the movement a little too casual to be genuine. "Since right now. Come on, Nix. Live a little."

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of this sudden interest in arts and crafts, but follow him anyway.

 Because in all honesty… The distraction isn't unwelcome—you've still got an hour to kill, and arguing about his secret Instagram account wasn't exactly on your agenda for the day.

Plus, whatever he's hiding must be good if he's willing to make friendship bracelets to avoid talking about it.

You approach the shop, and it is small but bright, walls lined with colorful spools of thread, beads in every imaginable shape and size, and an assortment of charms that range from the typical (hearts, stars, moons) to the bizarre (tiny plastic dinosaurs, miniature food items, and what appears to be a collection of famous dictators' faces).

A twenty-something with purple hair and more piercings than you can count greets you from behind the counter.

"Welcome to String Theory! Let me know if you need help finding anything."

Jungkook nods in acknowledgement, already wandering toward a display of leather cords and metal clasps. You follow, still puzzled by this whole detour.

"So this is what we're doing now? Making friendship bracelets?" You pick up a spool of neon green thread, turning it over in your fingers. "Is this your way of making our friendship official? Should we be getting cards and flowers too?"

He snorts, examining a tray of silver charms with unexpected interest.

"If anyone's getting flowers in this scenario, it's me. I'm high maintenance."

"Yeah, no shit."

He glances at you, that familiar half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“We don't have to stay if you don't want to. Just thought it might be..." He trails off, shrugging again in that way he does when he's trying to seem indifferent.

"What? Entertaining? A good way to avoid showing me your Instagram?"

"Both." He picks up a small wolf charm, turning it over in his fingers. "But mostly I thought it might be fun. You know, do something with our hands that isn't..."

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"And there's the innuendo. I was wondering how long you could go without making it weird."

"About thirty seconds, apparently." He sets the charm down, moving on to a collection of colored stones. "So, you want to make something or not?"

You consider it.

On one hand, making bracelets seems like a throwback to summer camp or middle school sleepovers—not exactly your usual Saturday night activity.

On the other hand, you've got time to kill, and it's oddly... refreshing to see Jungkook interested in something so innocuous.

Plus, you're still curious about that Instagram account, and maybe if you play along with this diversion, he'll eventually let his guard down enough to show you.

"Fine." You grab a small plastic basket from a stack near the entrance. "But I'm not making anything with your name on it, so don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His smile widens into something more genuine. "Though I bet you'd rock a ‘Kuko 4-Ever' bracelet."

"I'd rather die, thanks."

You move along the wall, selecting threads in deep blues and purples because they're pretty, not because they remind you of the way Jungkook's hair sometimes looks in certain light. That would be stupid.

"So," you say casually, examining a tray of small metallic beads, "are you going to tell me about this secret Instagram account or what?"

He sighs, the sound more resigned than annoyed. "It's not secret. It's just... separate."

"Separate from what?"

"From me. From Jungkook. It's just a creative outlet, okay? Nothing special."

"But good enough that you don't want to show me."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and there's something unexpectedly vulnerable in his expression.

"It's not that I don't want to show you. It's just... people get weird about it."

"Weird how?"

"They either think it's pretentious or they make too big a deal out of it." He moves to another display, this one filled with various charms. "It's easier to just keep it separate."

You follow him, curiosity piqued even further.

 Jungkook, who walks around the apartment half-naked without a second thought, who leaves his dirty laundry in the most inconvenient places possible, who has absolutely no qualms about sharing the explicit details of his sex life—this same Jungkook is suddenly shy about his photography?

"I won't make it weird," you offer, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice. "Promise."

He looks skeptical. "You make everything weird, Nix. It's your special talent."

"Fuck off." You snatch a small charm from the tray without really looking at it—something circular with delicate metalwork. "I can appreciate art without being weird about it."

"It's not really art. Just photos."

"Of what?"

He hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of a tray.

 "Mostly urban stuff. Architecture. Shadows. Light. Some nature." A shrug. "Just things I find interesting."

"That actually sounds cool."

He glances at you like he's checking for signs of mockery, then seems to decide you're being genuine.

"Yeah, well. Maybe I'll show you. Someday."

It's not a yes, but it's not a hard no either.

You'll take it.

"Cool." You move to the register, where the purple-haired employee is arranging a display of finished samples. "So how do we actually do this bracelet thing? I haven't made one since I was like, twelve."

"You think I have?" Jungkook laughs, setting his basket beside yours on the counter. "I'm flying blind here too."

The employee—Ash, according to their name tag—smiles.

“That's what I'm here for. What kind of bracelet are you thinking? We've got traditional friendship styles, leather wraps, beaded, charm..."

"Whatever's easiest," you say at the same time Jungkook says, "The coolest one."

Ash's smile widens. "How about a leather cord with beads? Simple but looks great."

"Sounds good," Jungkook agrees, emptying his basket on the counter. "Can we work on them here?"

"Absolutely. Let me set you up at the table in the back."

As you follow Ash toward a small workshop area in the rear of the store, your phone buzzes again. You check it discreetly.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝟾. 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒’𝚜  𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

You glance at the time.

6:45 PM.

Just over an hour left of... this. This strange, not entirely unpleasant detour into something that feels almost like friendship.

You slip your phone away before Jungkook can see, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind that wonders what other secrets he might be keeping, and why you suddenly care so much about finding them out.

Ash sets you up at a small wooden table pressed right against the front window.

"So, what are we making?" Jungkook asks, already rummaging through his selection of beads like a kid sorting Halloween candy.

You don't answer immediately, an idea taking shape as you run your fingers over the threads and beads scattered across the table. Your eyes catch on the small containers of alphabet beads near the edge of the table, then drift to the vibrant collection of orange, red, and yellow beads in various shapes and finishes.

Perfect.

You pull the alphabet containers closer, fishing out specific letters: P, H, O, E, N, I, X. Setting them in a neat line in front of you, you reach for more: R, O, G, U, E.

Jungkook watches, brows drawing closer together as he pieces together what you're doing.

When recognition hits, he laughs—short and surprised.

"Okay, seriously? You're making Phoenix and Rogue bracelets now?"

You shrug, reaching for the orange, red, and yellow beads, arranging them between the letters.

"What? Hell yeah. We already branded each other, might as well make it something to remember each other by."

"You think I want to walk around with a bracelet that says 'Rogue' on my wrist?"

He looks genuinely baffled, like you've suggested he tattoo your face on his ass.

"I don't care what you do with it." You roll your eyes, already threading through the first bead. "I'm making mine."

He snorts, but instead of arguing further, he actually helps you sort through the letter beads, pushing the ones you need closer. Then, to your surprise, he reaches for the same fiery-colored beads you've been using.

"What?" he says, catching your look. "If we're doing this ridiculous twin bracelet thing, they might as well match."

"I thought you'd go for all black or something."

He shrugs, picking out a particularly vibrant red bead.

"Rogues can be fiery too. Besides," he adds with a half-smile, "these are my colors."

"Your colors?"

"Yeah." He lays out a pattern—red, orange, yellow, just like yours. "Warm tones. Bold. Kind of obnoxious if you use too many at once."

"Sounds like someone I know," you mutter, and he chuckles.

Your fingers work almost automatically, threading beads onto the leather cord. You're not being symbolic on purpose. It just looks nice.

When you glance up, Jungkook is staring at his own pile of beads, expression oddly distant.

He's rolling a small sun charm between his fingers, back and forth, like he's trying to make a decision.

"What?" you ask, because his silence feels weird.

He shrugs, the motion feeling slightly too forced on him.

"Nothing. Just..." He sets the charm down, picks up a red bead instead. "I actually had one of these. A bracelet. When I was a kid."

This feels like something—a small piece of himself he's offering without being pushed.

So you keep your tone light when you ask.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Leather, like this." He picks up one of the cords, wrapping it around his wrist to measure before cutting it. "With these bright beads my mom found at some market. Reds and oranges, kind of like these. I wore it until it literally fell apart."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know. Ten? Eleven?" He shrugs again. "Young enough that it was still cool, not lame."

"And now?"

His eyes flick up to yours, then away. "Now what?"

"Is it lame now?"

His expression wavers, tightening around the mouth.

"Nah, it's whatever." He starts threading red and orange beads onto his cord, precise and quick. "Just not something guys usually wear, you know? Unless they're trying to be edgy or something."

"Since when do you care about what's 'usually' done?"

He laughs, but it sounds different than his normal laugh—a little hollow, a little forced.

"Fair point."

You work in silence for a few minutes, with some accompanying sounds; like the soft click of beads and the occasional muttered curse when you drop one.

A yellow bead rolls across the table toward Jungkook, who catches it easily.

"Thanks," you mutter as he hands it back.

"No problem." He pauses, looking at the half-finished bracelet in his hands. "I lied, by the way."

"About what?"

"My mom didn't find the beads." He keeps his eyes on his work, not looking at you. "I did. She just helped me put it together because I was too small to handle the clasps."

Something about the way he says it makes your chest tighten—like this isn't just a random childhood memory but something… soft.

Something he doesn't share often.

"That's sweet," you say, matching his tone. "You don't talk about your mom much."

He tenses, and you inwardly curse yourself.

"Not much to say."

That's a lie if you've ever heard one, but you don't push. Whatever this is—this small opening, it feels fragile. Like pressing too hard would make him shut down completely.

"Mine would've hated this place," you offer instead. "Too messy. Too handmade. Not enough structure."

His lips twitch, almost a smile.

"Mine would've loved it. She was always into this crafty shit. Had a whole room full of art supplies back when..." He trails off, shakes his head. "Anyway. How's yours coming?"

The abrupt subject change is obvious, but you let it slide.

"Almost done. Just need the clasp."

You hold up your creation for inspection. It's nothing fancy—just a simple leather cord with 'PHOENIX' spelled out in silver letter beads, filled with the fiery colored ones you picked.

But it looks kind of cool, in a childish, summer-camp sort of way.

Jungkook leans forward to look, his expression warming.

"Not bad, Nix. Very on-brand."

"Let me see yours."

He hesitates, then holds out his own bracelet. It's just like yours to match, with 'ROGUE' spelled out in metal letter beads. But he’s added a small sun charm that catches the light when he moves.

"Shit," you say, genuinely impressed. "Yours is way better than mine."

He shrugs, but you can tell he's pleased by the compliment.

“I have an eye for design. Part of my many talents."

"And so humble, too."

"Humility is overrated." He sets his bracelet down, reaching for the clasps Ash left for you. "Here, let me help you finish yours."

His fingers brush against yours as he takes your bracelet, the touch brief but somehow startling.

You watch as he attaches the clasp with surprising dexterity, tattooed fingers moving deftly, and it’s kind of attractive, really.

How good he is with his hands when he wants to be.

"There," he says, holding it out to you. "All set."

“Wait,” you announce, searching through the charms box.

You swear you had seen a rain charm earlier, and you had briefly snickered at it. But now that he’s wearing the sun charm it feels oddly… like yours needs to have the rain one, just to contrary him.

So you pick it up, add it to your bracelet.

And then you smile at him, show him.

He snorts.

You turn it in your hand. It feels solid, real. A physical manifestation of the nickname he gave you—the one that used to annoy you but now feels almost like a strange term of endearment.

Ash then approaches your table, a small fabric-lined box in her hands.

"All finished? Those look great!"

You both nod, holding up your creations for inspection.

"Phoenix and Rogue," she reads, smiling. "And they match! The fire colors work perfectly for both."

"Yeah," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "Kind of the point."

"Perfect timing, then," Ash says, setting the box on the table. "We're actually starting a new community art project. Would you be interested in contributing your bracelets?"

You frown, confused.

"Contributing how?"

"We're collecting handmade bracelets from customers to create a wall installation," she explains, gesturing toward a corner of the shop where several bracelets are already displayed on a corkboard. "It's part of our five-year anniversary celebration. Everyone who contributes gets a polaroid of their bracelet and a discount on their next visit."

"Oh." You look down at your bracelet, feeling an unexpected reluctance to part with it.

Which is stupid, because what were you going to do with it anyway?

Wear it?

That would be weird.

"You don't have to," Ash adds quickly, picking up on your hesitation. "It's totally optional."

"No, it's cool," Jungkook says, already placing his bracelet in the box. "I like the idea."

You glance at him, surprised again.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Creating something that stays here, becomes part of the place." He shrugs. "Better than it ending up in a drawer somewhere, right?"

There's something about the way he says it—like he's not just talking about the bracelet anymore—that makes you pause.

But then he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for your decision, and you place your bracelet in the box beside his, the matching colors side by side.

"For the record," you say as Ash takes a polaroid of your creations side by side, "I would've worn mine."

Jungkook's smile is slow and surprisingly gentle.

“Yeah?"

"Maybe not in public," you clarify quickly. "But yeah."

"Me too," he admits quietly, and it feels like he's sharing another secret—small but somehow significant. "Don't tell anyone, though. Ruins my image."

"What image? The one where you pretend to be cool but actually know an alarming amount about John Mayer's discography?"

"Exactly that one." He grins, the most genuine expression you've seen from him all day. "It's carefully curated."

Ash returns with your polaroid and receipt, both bracelets now part of the store's growing collection.

"Come back anytime to see them. They'll be here as long as we are."

"Thanks," Jungkook says, taking the polaroid and tucking it carefully into his wallet.

As you step back out onto the sidewalk, the city bathed in the deepening gold of late afternoon, you feel strangely light despite the lingering pain in your abdomen.

You reach for your phone to check the time, only to find your pocket empty.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your other pockets frantically. "My phone."

Jungkook stops mid-stretch.

"You lose it?"

"Must have left it in the shop." You're already turning back toward the door. "Wait here, I'll be quick."

"Want me to—"

"No, it's fine," you say, perhaps too quickly. "Just give me a second."

The bell chimes as you push back into the store, Ash looking up from behind the counter, eyebrows raised in question.

"Forgot my phone," you explain, gesturing vaguely toward the table where you were sitting.

"No problem. Take your time."

You move quickly to the table, eyes already scanning for your missing device.

Three minutes later, you're back outside, phone safely in hand. Jungkook's leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through something on his own phone.

"Got it?" he asks without looking up.

"Yeah."

You slip it into your pocket without checking the time.

"Ready?"

He pushes off the lamppost.

"Lead the way."

You start walking toward the subway entrance, mentally calculating the time. It must be around 7:20 now. Perfect timing to get to the restaurant by 8.

"Hungry?" you ask, as casually as you can manage.

Jungkook stretches again, arms reaching skyward in a motion that draws your eyes despite yourself.

"Starving. What did you have in mind?"

"I know a place," you say, already angling toward the stairs. "Trust me."

And the weird thing is, from the way he falls into step beside you without question, it seems like he actually does.

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[loopy777]

Heya Loopy!

So, since I'm fresh off of reading For Better and For Worse (OMG, how do you manage it everytime?! I'm sucker for when Zuko gets to hear Mai's grievances and insecurities except she wouldn't actually come out and tell him and your plots always serve the characters so well—!)

Anyways! I find characterisation in your fics more in line with the show than the comics so I have to ask: if you were to write avatar comics, what direction would you have taken with Mai and Zuko. You talked about Mai and Tom-Tom on the server so I know about that, so other than that.

Well, something I do like from the early comics is the immediate focus on the matter of the colonies. (That is also the only thing I liked about it.) And rather than going with the idea of having the gAang implement some dumb policy on a whim that goes on for a whole year before blowing up on them, especially when nothing in the main plot needs a year-long gap except for Zuko apparently not having been able to sleep for 365 consecutive nights and so having the decision-making capabilities of a mushroom, I'd rather have them immediately get started on the issue of what to do with the colonies use it as a long-term plotline.

And with Zuko busy trying to pacify a nation that yesterday was running from Azula worshiping at Ozai's feet (and he's getting enough sleep to remember what the word "delegate" means), he appoints someone as his representative and negotiator who is well-educated, cool under pressure, absolutely loyal, and dangerous enough to not need protection in case of riots. Which is good, because somehow this political plotline is going to involve a lot of magic kung fu fights.

So yeah, that's my concept. On the discord, we've noted that Mai never really got a chance to do a Redemption storyline for her part in the Fire Nation's imperialist agenda, so I like the idea of having the daughter of the guy who conquered Omashu helping to transfer the colonies out of Fire Nation control. Depending on the needs of each individual story (I like self-contained one-shots that slowly progress an overarching plot), we can shuffle her back and forth between the Fire Nation and the colonies, so she can see plenty of Zuko and interact with him for the Maiko fans, but then not be present when we don't want her around to keep him smart. I also like the idea of having Sokka being her counterpart from the Water Tribe for the colonies issue, so this gives me a chance to build a friendship between them, as well as Suki when she's available to guard her boyfriend.

Assuming LoK is still setting the agenda with the colonies becoming a 'United Republic' which is really just a single city and the resource-rich land around it, owned and operated as a shared colony by the four nations. I've always liked to shade this in my fanfics as a failure by the gAang, that they couldn't find a solution which would do right by the people of the colonies. So, unfortunately, this is going to partially be Mai's failure at the culmination of the big colonies plot. (It's Sokka's fault, too, so it's okay.) But I think we can cast it as the completion of her redemption arc, that when she fails to get the colonies proper self-governance, she actually sheds tears and rants to Zuko. And he points out that while she might feel terrible about it, she can at least be sure she did her absolute best.

And when she asks how he can be so sure, he says, "Well, because I know you. And I can see, right now, in your tears, how much you care."

And if we really want to get sappy and Avatar Studios isn't nixing anything that smells of character progression, he can add, "And that's why I want you -- need you -- at my side as my Fire Lady."

So I think the fans would probably like that.

[waywardxwords]

Taking Chances

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Series Warnings: Language, smut (eventually, so this series is 18+ only). Some others may appear. Warnings will be listed at the top of each chapter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

This was born out of the one shot I wrote in October called Rules were meant for Breaking. This story doesn't follow along with any specific timeline or storyline from Supernatural, and there will be things that differ in this story than what took place on the show.

Chapter 1 - Rules Were Meant for Breaking

Chapter 2 - Nothing to Lose

Chapter 3 - We'll Always Have Atlanta

Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie

Chapter 5 - Last Names

Chapter 6 - Demons, Spirits and Angels, Oh My!

Chapter 7 - We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Chapter 8 - Save Me

Chapter 9 - Stay

Chapter 10 - Call Me Yours (5/2)

Chapter 11 - Tell Me I'm Gonna Be Okay

Chapter 12 - We're All Afraid Sometimes

Chapter 13 - Home

A/N: It feels so good to be starting up a new series, I've missed writing the last few weeks! Updates will be made every Thursday!

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