#everyone's talking about him...the lovers...the haters...

It was always hard to decline the Wilsons every time they invited you over to visit them in Delacroix.

They always made sure to show you a fun time, whether it was something as simple as a boat ride on Paul & Darlene’s — God bless them — shooting water guns with the kids, going fishing, or just grabbing some folding chairs to watch the sun set past the lake line with cold Heinekens in hand.

It was AJ’s—Sarah’s son—birthday this weekend, and Sam had invited you to stay over for a full weekend of nonstop partying and celebration.

How could you possibly resist when you have your very best friends waiting for you across the states with good music and food ready at their doorstep?

You showed up at the top of the steps with a heavy weekender bag slung over your shoulder. When you pushed through the front door, which had been left unlocked, the last person you expected to see was standing right in the middle of the room.

Bucky.

He looked like he had just arrived, too. A simple dark backpack sat squared and centered on the couch—as if he were already claiming his spot.

Bucky slowly turned toward you, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t expected you to arrive either.

“What are you doing—”

“What are you doing—”

You both spoke and stopped at the same time, eyes glaring at one another. Bucky’s shoulders were tense, his discomfort obvious, while your own brows were furrowed and lips scrunched in disdain.

Your first impression of Bucky hadn’t been great—and it still wasn’t.

When you first met him, you walked in on him talking to Sam about his flirting with Sarah. Sam had warned Bucky to back off—that typical overprotective brother routine—but Bucky insisted he was “merely joking around” and “wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

The two of them might have found it funny, but Sarah was your best friend, and you were extremely protective over the people you cared about.

While Sam was busy in New York, you had stuck by her side like glue. You were there for her through the divorce, you were there to watch the kids when Sam wasn’t around, and you were there for every single one of her and the boys’ milestones.

Sarah was a woman who deserved to be taken care of, just as she took care of everyone else.

To Bucky, pursuing her and tossing out flirtatious comments was just a joke.

You knew Sarah was strong, and that maybe she wouldn’t let things get too far with Bucky, but the way she’d chuckle and giggle at his words filled you with doubt.

Bucky wasn’t a man who would take care of her or her kids. He was just like Sam—he’d always be away, too occupied with other things across the country to actually show up for her and her needs. You didn’t want her to get hurt and left in the dust again.

Bucky let out a patient exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Sam invited me to stay the weekend for AJ’s birthday.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s funny. Sam invited me over to stay, too.” You glanced at the couch. “They don’t have a spare bedroom—so that couch is going to have to be mine.”

He huffed an incredulous laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching into a disbelieving smile.

The gentleman in him told him to give up the couch and let you have it, even if he had arrived first. But the petty part of him didn’t want to give in that easily—not with how cold you have been towards him.

“What?” Bucky motioned to the sofa. “You don’t think the couch is big enough for the both of us?”

You didn’t laugh, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, I—”

“Mom! Uncle Bucky and Auntie are here!” Cass’s voice rang from around the corner. His happy brown eyes, so much like Sarah’s, peered between the two of you. “AJ, come here!”

Bucky’s shoulders eased slightly, his expression softening at the sight of Sam’s nephew.

Cass ran to Bucky first since he was closer, throwing his arms around his waist as he knelt to meet the kid halfway.

“Good to see you again, kid,” Bucky murmured.

Then Cass lunged at you for a hug next, nearly sending you stumbling backward from the impact. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing tight. “Hey there, Cass!”

AJ rounded the corner next, his footsteps thudding against the floorboards before he collided head first into Bucky, catching him in a bear hug.

Jealousy started to boil in your blood. It was infuriating how much Bucky had these two kids wrapped around his stupid vibranium finger after knowing them for such a short time. Meanwhile, you have been around forever. You might as well have been their biological aunt, for fuck’s sake.

“Uncle Bucky!” AJ beamed.

Bucky laughed, giving his head a playful ruffle. “Well, if it isn’t the birthday boy. Hey, I got you something—”

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your aunt, AJ?” you cut in, catching the boy’s attention.

AJ’s excitement for whatever gift Bucky had for him faded slightly as he turned his attention to you. He smiled, walking—not running—to greet you with a hug. The polite gesture did nothing to soothe your jealousy or your emotional attachment to these kids.

“It’s nice to see you, Auntie,” AJ said politely.

You forced a smile anyway. “Happy early birthday, AJ. Are you excited for the weekend?”

AJ grinned and nodded, but before he could answer, the sound of Sam’s footsteps approached from down the hall.

“Well, well, well,” Sam said, a hand on his hip and a smirk on his face. “If it isn’t my two favorite people in the world—standing in the same room.”

The little boys glanced at each other, already starting their own silent game of tag before they pushed through the front door and disappeared into the yard.

“Sam,” you greeted, finally dropping your heavy duffel bag on the floor. “There isn’t enough space for Bucky and me to stay.”

Bucky was already reaching for his backpack. “I’ll just let her take the couch. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What?” Sam huffed, shaking his head. “No, no, no. None of that. I bought an air mattress that we can set up right here.” He motioned to the floor in front of the sofa. “We’ll just move the coffee table. It’s big enough to fit the both of you. No one is sleeping on the floor.”

Big enough to fit the both of you?

“We are not sharing a bed,” you interjected sternly, trying to hide the embarassment on your face.

Bucky glanced at Sam casually. “I’ll just take the couch, then. She’ll take the bed.”

The tension in the room was thicker than the Louisiana humidity. Sam and Bucky traded a knowing look—one that typically meant they were thinking the same thing but didn’t want to say it out loud.

“Where’s Sarah?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. There was too much testosterone in this room.

Sam pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s out back.”

You nodded and walked past the two men, heading for the backyard. Sam and Bucky watched you retreat, waiting until the sound of the screen door clicked shut before Bucky finally let out the breath he had been holding.

“She doesn’t like me much, Sam,” Bucky muttered.

“You think?” Sam mused sarcastically, folding his arms over his chest. “Look, man, it’s my nephew’s birthday. Sarah and I want both of you here this weekend, and I’m going to make sure it stays a good weekend.”

Bucky pressed his lips together, his right hand coming up to tug at the stubble on his chin as if he were trying to calculate a solution.

“Alright, well...” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll just make sure to stay on the opposite side of the room—”

“No,” Sam interrupted, stepping closer. “That’s not how we’re doing things. It’s a celebration, man. I’m not having you two avoid each other like the plague the entire time. My nephews and everyone else around us will catch on.”

Bucky made a face. He knew Sam well enough to know he was already plotting something. “What do you propose we do, then?”

“There are plenty of things to do down at the bayou,” Sam explained. “Not even just the bayou—all over the damn state. Activities you two can do together.”

Bucky was terrible at hiding his expressions. He grimaced immediately at the thought—enduring constant nagging, side-eyes, and petty one liners from you while he just had to sit there and take it for Sam’s sake.

This wasn’t a fun vacation at all.

“I don’t know about this, Sam—”

“We’re supposed to be a family, Buck,” Sam cut him off, raising a hand to silence the protest. “You’re going to spend time with her, and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

You were down at the docks, the sun beaming down as sweat began to trickle from your temples. The humidity in Louisiana was suffocating, but the occasional lake breeze, the cold beers, and the company were enough to keep the heat at bay.

Paul & Darlene’s was swaying gently against the waves, looking as rusty as ever.

“Is she ready for a ride?” you asked Sarah, who was currently engrossed in a clipboard. “Are you seriously still working on your son’s birthday weekend?”

Sarah didn’t reply, mumbling to herself as her eyes traced the words on the paper. You sighed, your fingers gently nudging the clipboard down.

“Sarah, enough,” you said gently. You glanced over at AJ and Cass, who were sitting on the benches playing with action figures. “Take the weekend off like the rest of us and spend time with the kids. Take them out on the boat.”

Sarah looked at the boys, her brown eyes filling with guilt. “You know I would, but the boat’s still broken—”

“Stop with the sulking,” Sam’s voice shouted from the end of the dock.

He squinted against the sun as he approached, carrying two boat paddles, while Bucky trailed behind him with a third.

“We still have three perfectly good rowboats we can take the kids on,” Sam grinned, handing you one of the paddles. “Ever rowed a boat before?”

“Of course I have,” you said, taking it. “That sounds like fun.” You smiled, turning toward the boys. “Which one of you lucky boys wants to ride with your super cool aunt?”

Bucky lifted his paddle up to Sarah with a small, stupidly charming smile. “Want to ride with me, Sarah?”

You felt your eyebrow twitch.

“AJ, you’re with me,” Sam called out, cutting Bucky off. “Cass, you’re with your mom.”

“What? No fair!” Cass made a face, throwing his hands up. “I want to ride with someone cool!”

“You better watch your mouth, boy,” Sarah warned, completely ignoring Bucky as she snatched a paddle from Sam’s hand, already heading toward the end of the dock where the boats were tied.

Sam didn’t bother hiding his grin. It was wide, unabashed, and entirely too fucking satisfied as he ushered the boys toward the edge of the dock.

“Alright, move it or lose it! First one to the sandbar gets the first slice of cake on Saturday!” Sam shouted. AJ and Cass scrambled past you, their sneakers slapping loudly against the wooden planks as they raced toward the smaller rowboats, leaving giggles in their wake.

You and Bucky stood frozen, paddles in hand like two statues, blinking as the Wilsons walked off without you.

“Wait, what?” you finally managed to choke out, your head whipping between Sam’s retreating back and the boats. “Sam, hold on. There are only three boats.” You stumbled after them, desperately trying to create space between you and Bucky.

“Yep!” Sam called over his shoulder, not slowing down at all. “One for Sarah and Cass, one for me and the birthday boy…”

He paused to hop into a boat, the wood creaking under him. He looked back at you and Bucky, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“And one for the two of you. Try not to tip it.”

You turned slowly to look at Bucky. He looked just as dumbfounded as you felt, his vibranium hand gripped tight around the handle of his paddle.

“He’s kidding,” you muttered. “He’s definitely kidding.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, mostly because he knew Sam wasn’t kidding at all. He looked at the third rowboat—a small, weathered piece of wood that bobbed innocently at the end of the line.

It looked incredibly small.

It looked too intimate.

It looked like a disaster waiting to happen.

“Sam!” you yelled, taking a step forward. “This is ridiculous! I can just stay back and help Sarah with the—the decorations! Or the food!”

“Decorations are done! Food isn’t being prepped ‘til tomorrow!” Sarah shouted from her own boat, already pushing off from the dock with Cass sitting across from her.

You couldn’t believe it. You were stranded.

You were stranded with Bucky fucking Barnes.

Bucky let out a long, slow breath through his nose. He glanced at you, taking the way your jaw had hung open as you watched Sam and Sarah float away. A fly could’ve flown in at any moment.

Without a word, Bucky started walking toward the last boat, his heavy boots thumping against the dock. He stepped one foot into the boat to steady it and extended a hand toward you.

“Come on,” he muttered. “I’ll help you down.”

You blinked, snapped out of your disbelief as you looked down at Bucky—propped up like a knight in shining armor helping a fair maiden onto his trusty steed.

“I can help myself just fine, thanks,” you scoffed.

You stepped down into the boat, and it tipped slightly under your weight. The both of you quickly got settled, undid the rope, and assembled the paddles at the sides. Without a single word being exchanged, you both reached for the handles at the same time.

Except Bucky’s hands landed first—and your hands landed right on top of his. You both stared at each other, gazes hard and unwavering.

“Let go,” you said.

Bucky didn’t budge at all. “I grabbed them first.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know how to row a boat, do you?” you immediately countered.

He paused. The only sounds were the cicadas buzzing in your ears and the gentle thrashing of water as the rowboat swayed.

“I do know how to row a boat,” Bucky argued back pridefully.

He didn’t.

He probably had during his Winter Soldier days—and maybe the muscle memory would have come back—but definitely not for a teeny, tiny little rowboat like this.

You grinned, a little taunting chuckle escaping your lips as you silently called his bluff. “Oh, yeah?”

You knew that stung his pride. He mumbled incoherent, grumpy words under his breath as he started to paddle away from the docks and toward the center of the lake, trying to follow Sam and Sarah’s lead.

The two of you sat in an awkward, tense silence as he worked the paddles. The sun was beaming in your face, and you lifted your hand to provide shade—but it was also a discreet method to help shield the way you were staring intently at Bucky’s muscles as he pushed the paddles.

Bucky would grunt occasionally as the blades lapped through the water, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his muscles bulged and flexed through a shirt that looked ridiculously tight on a big guy like him.

His henley was pulled up to his forearms, the vibranium shimmering against the reflections of the lake and the veins in his right arm catching your eyes with every pushing motion of the paddle.

“You, uh… you come to Louisiana often?” Bucky tried for a conversation.

You huffed a laugh that didn’t sound humorous at all. “Way more than you have, that’s for sure.”

Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something smart. He had to suck it up for Sam’s sake.

“The weather’s nice, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t believe Bucky was trying to talk to you about the weather.

“It’s always hot and swampy in Delacroix,” you said flatly.

You looked around, noticing how the boat was drifting further away from Sam and Sarah. You watched as Cass and AJ shouted to each other from across their boats—how Sarah and Sam were tossing their heads back in laughter.

A frown settled on your lips as you began to feel left out.

“We’re drifting, Bucky,” you said, pointing toward them. “Steer in that direction.”

Bucky adjusted his grip on the paddles and huffed. “Fine.”

He started to dig the right paddle deep into the water while the left one barely grazed the surface. But instead of cutting toward Sam and Sarah, the boat’s nose jerked sharply to the right.

“What are you doing?” you snapped, your patience thinning as the distance between you and the Wilsons grew wider. “We’re not going toward them, Bucky. We’re going…” You frowned. “…nowhere.”

“I’m adjusting,” Bucky said shortly, his vibranium fingers tightening on the paddle. He tried to over-correct, pulling back hard with his left arm, but the only result was the boat beginning to pivot on its axis.

You weren’t moving anywhere. You were spinning.

The same cluster of cypress trees passed by for the third time. Sam and Sarah were becoming distant specks on the horizon, their laughter echoing faintly across the water.

An impatient sigh escaped you as you leaned forward, motioning to the paddles. “Here, move over. Let me take over—”

“I got it,” Bucky insisted, his jaw clenched and shoulders tense in that way that made him look particularly stubborn. “Just give me a second, alright?”

“Bucky, we’ve barely moved from the dock and now you’ve got us—” you motioned to the boat, “—spinning in circles. I’m getting dizzy. Just hand me the damn paddles.”

Your hands found an open space on the handles and you jerked them toward your side of the boat, causing the wood to thrash against the water. Bucky—taken aback by your unexpected strength—was pulled forward. He let out a hiss, immediately yanking the oars back toward him and making you jerk forward instead.

You both glared at each other stubbornly, muttering curses as you continued this back and forth struggle for the paddles.

But unfortunately for you, Bucky was significantly stronger, and every jerk he made sent you nearly flying out of your seat and in his direction.

“Goddammit, Bucky! Just let go!” you hissed, trying to find your balance as the boat thrashed around, water splashing everywhere.

Bucky had told himself he would try to suck up your attitude for Sam—but fuck, you were treading on his nerves every second.

“Christ, woman!” Bucky barked, his fingers tightening on the handles. “Just let me take care of it—alright? I know what I’m doing!”

“Well, clearly you don’t! Because we’re still just spinning in circles!”

The boat rocked violently, tipping precariously every time the two of you fought for the oars. The wood creaked and groaned under the movement, and water began slopping over the gunwales, soaking your sandals.

“Will you stop being such a prideful man and let a woman take over the damn oars already?” you shouted over the splashing water, throwing your entire weight into a massive yank.

The paddles lurched toward you.

“I can’t believe you offered to take Sarah for a ride when you can’t even steer the damn thing!”

Bucky’s brow twitched. He hated feeling incompetent, and every word you hurled was a direct jab to his pride. He had tried so hard to be on his best behavior for you, but his patience had finally worn thin.

“I would’ve done just fine if you hadn’t gotten in the way,” Bucky snapped back in a low growl.

His fingers clamped down so hard on the wood it was a wonder it didn’t snap. Out of sheer, petty spite, he jerked the oars back toward himself.

“Now give me these damn paddles—”

But the force of his movement caught you completely off guard. You let out a sharp yelp as you were catapulted forward, your hands losing their grip on the wood. You had zero time to brace yourself before you collided hard with his chest—it felt like hitting a brick wall wrapped in damp cotton.

With all the weight suddenly slammed onto one side, the boat lurched backward, the stern dipping dangerously low.

Pressed against his chest, you scrambled to get up in a panic. “Jesus, Bucky! Look at what you—”

“Stop squirming! Just… just stay still!”

Bucky’s grip on the oars was long forgotten as his hands found your waist in a desperate attempt to steady you, but it was too late.

With a loud, undignified splash that caught the attention of everyone on the docks, the rowboat flipped.

One moment, the sun was burning your skin, and the next, you were greeted by cold water enveloping you. Everything from above was muffled as you were completely submerged. Keeping your eyes squeezed shut against the murky water, you tried to swim upward, but panic started to flare as your head kept bumping into the underside of the wooden boat.

Suddenly, a strong, vibranium arm wrapped roughly around your waist. He pulled your body tight against his, dragging you toward the surface and back to the shore.

You gasped for air the moment you broke the surface, your skin warming as the sunlight hit your soaked face. People on the docks were smiling and laughing at your predicament, but Bucky paid them no mind. He dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the water.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

Sam’s laughter, joined by the kids’ giggles, filled your ears as their boats drew closer.

“Oh no, what happened to you two?” Sam grinned, spinning his boat around to get a better look at you. “Let me guess—was it the wind?” He motioned to the upside down boat.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed through the water until you reached the edge of the docks, with Bucky swimming close behind. You tried to paddle faster to create some distance, but there was no point—he caught up to you in no time.

When you reached the dock, you tried to hoist yourself up, but Bucky’s hands found your waist again, easily hauling you up and over the wooden floorboards.

You sneered at him the second your feet were steady. “I didn’t need your help.”

Bucky ignored you as he hauled himself up onto the dock, his muscles rippling beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. Water clung to his skin, dripping from the tips of his short, shaggy hair and trailing down the tanned column of his throat.

You were furious—absolutely livid—but as you watched the way his broad shoulders tensed just underneath the thin fabric, you found yourself swallowing hard.

You hated that, even in the middle of a fucking swamp, he still managed to look like that.

Bucky didn’t notice you staring at him. He stood up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his ears.

“I was doing a fine job,” he bit out roughly, “until you had to butt your head in and try to take over. If you had just sat still, we wouldn’t be soaked right now—”

As Bucky finally lifted his head to glare at you, the breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, his gaze dropping from your drenched head to your chest—and then freezing there.

You were wearing a sheer white blouse—light and airy for the Louisiana heat, of course—but now that it was drenched through, it had turned completely translucent. It clung tight to your skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination and revealing the lace of your bra underneath.

Bucky’s jaw went tight, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t—not even as you continued to yell and point a finger at him.

“What? Are you insinuating that it’s my fault?” you scoffed in disbelief.

Bucky couldn’t concentrate. It felt like his brain had short circuited as he stared shamelessly at the damp lace and the soft curve of your skin.

“And another thing!” you shouted, stepping closer and poking a finger square into the center of his chest. “If you hadn’t been so stubborn about the oars, we would’ve caught up to Sam and Sarah and been having a good time with them!”

Bucky winced, not because of the poke, but because you moving closer only made the view more prominent. He glanced toward the docks, noticing a few of the guys from the neighborhood whistling and laughing at the both of you.

Without thinking, Bucky stepped closer, his large frame shielding you from the view of the men. He reached out, his hands hovering awkwardly near your shoulders as he tried to pull you against him to hide your vulnerable state.

“Hey—? What the hell are you doing?” you snapped, trying to shove him back. “Why are you hugging me? Get off!”

“I’m not hugging you,” Bucky mumbled grumpily as he forced you to stay put, caging you between his big arms.

“It feels a lot like hugging, Barnes! Let go!” You squirmed, but his grip on you was tight. His face flushed as he felt your chest rub up against his.

“Stop moving,” he hissed, his face turning a deep, frustrated red as he looked anywhere but at your chest. He leaned down, his mouth inches away from your ear so only you could hear. “Your damn shirt.”

“My shirt?” You blinked up at him in confusion. “What about my—?”

You looked down, and the realization hit you. Your face got hot with embarrassment once you noticed how the white fabric of your shirt was basically invisible, clinging to every inch of your bra and skin.

Sam and Sarah pulled their boat alongside the dock, the hull bumping gently against the wood. Sam hopped out first, looping the rope around the cleat. He looked up, taking in the sight of the two of you standing so close together.

“Well, would you look at that,” Sam said, a massive grin spreading across his face. “One little dip in the lake and you two finally made up?”

Bucky felt your body tense. Sensing how uncomfortable this was for you, he was just about to step back—until you crossed your arms over your chest and huddled deeper into his shadow.

“You okay?” Bucky murmured quietly, tilting his head down toward you.

After Sarah helped Cass off the boat, she stepped onto the dock and walked straight to you, moving between you and the men. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gently pried you away from Bucky, taking over his job of hiding you.

“Come on,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of understanding as she began to lead you away. “Let’s get you fixed up and into some dry clothes.”

You didn’t dare look back at Bucky as you let her lead you away, though you could feel his gaze on your back until you and Sarah rounded the corner, leaving the men out of sight.

Back on the dock, the laughter died down. Bucky stood there dripping wet, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“I take it the boat ride didn’t go well?” Sam taunted, his eyes still fixed on the corner where you and his sister had disappeared.

Bucky stayed quiet, glaring at Sam as water droplets fell from his hair onto the floorboards of the dock.

“This isn’t going to work, Sam,” Bucky muttered, wringing the hem of his shirt. “She hates me.”

“Don’t be like that, Buck.” Sam patted him on the shoulder. “She doesn’t hate anyone. Besides, we’ve got the whole weekend ahead of us, alright?”

Sam likely said that in hopes of lifting Bucky’s spirits—but it only did the exact opposite.

The sky was dark as you sat on the air mattress, applying lotion to your skin. The thought of sharing a space with Bucky felt daunting.

The rest of the day had been awkward and tense after the disaster on the lake. It didn’t help that Bucky did exactly what Sam told him not to do—which was hovering at the far end of the room, making sure to stand wherever you weren’t.

Bucky was taking his sweet time in the bathroom. As you finished with the lotion, you quickly snuggled into the air mattress, trying to fall asleep before he came back out.

Only a few minutes passed before the light from the bathroom hit your eyes as he pulled the door open. You winced at the sudden brightness but kept your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

A small sigh—almost a breath of relief—escaped his lips when he noticed you were out, or at least appeared to be.

You heard his heavy footsteps thud toward the couch. He crouched with his back to you, digging through his backpack for something.

Curiosity got the best of you. You peeked one eye open, and your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.

Bucky was shirtless.

You watched as he balanced on the balls of his feet, rummaging through the bag. The moonlight piercing through the window shadowed the deep lines and muscles of his back. His vibranium arm looked just as beautiful under the moon as it had in the sun.

His hair, no longer damp and scruffy like it was at the docks, was still slightly wet and brushed back neatly.

You could smell him all the way from the air mattress. He smelled soft and clean, with the underlying masculine scent of his deodorant. You knew you should have been asleep by now, but your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Was he really going to sleep shirtless even though you were here?

Despite your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you kept your back turned to him and tried your best to fall asleep.

Hours later, you eventually drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the sound of shuffling, groaning, and mumbled curses coming from across the room.

Lifting your head, you tiredly rubbed your eyes as you glanced in Bucky’s direction.

“Bucky… can you keep it down?”

But as you focused, you realized that whatever he was doing wasn’t intentional.

Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face scrunched into a grimace as he panted heavily. A thin sheen of sweat covered the column of his neck and chest, and his fingers were digging deep into the cushions of the couch. He kept mumbling incoherent, unfinished sentences that made your heart sink with worry.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” you asked, your voice rising.

“Don’t do this, please—don’t… mph… don't do this...”

“Bucky, listen to me!”

“Stop, stop!” he choked out, his body jerking against the couch.

You scrambled off the air mattress, tossing the blanket aside as you rushed to Bucky’s side at the couch.

“Bucky!” you whispered urgently, reaching out to grab his shoulders. You shook him, your palms warming from the heat radiating off his damp skin. “Bucky, wake up. You’re having a nightmare!”

When he didn’t wake, you shook him harder until he gasped awake so violently he nearly knocked you backward. His eyes snapped open—wide, unfocused, and… terrified.

He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. His vibranium hand clamped onto the edge of the couch so hard the wood underneath groaned.

“I’m—I…” he stammered, his voice heavy with panic.

“Hey... hey, look at me,” you said softly, your hands finding his wet cheeks and forcing his focus onto you. “I’m here. You’re in Louisiana. You’re at Sarah’s.”

You started saying the first things that came to mind. Surely, reminding someone where they were would help in a situation like this, right?

Bucky’s head whipped toward you, his gaze darting around the dark room until it finally landed on your face again. He was still shaking, the tremors racking his broad shoulders as he tried to calm himself in your touch.

You didn’t say anything else—you didn’t really know what to say in a situation like this. But being there, holding him and simply staying in his space, seemed to be enough for now.

Slowly and quietly, he began to catch his breath, and that’s when you noticed he was trying to match his breathing to yours.

In and out. In and out, slowly, until he finally started to calm down.

“Did…” He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your lap—noticing how your oversized shirt hung loosely over your legs. “Did I wake you?”

You nodded gently, deciding to be truthful. “You did.”

Guilt immediately clouded his features. “I’m sorry.”

A solemn frown tugged at your lips as you leaned in closer to get a better look at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, pulling away from your touch so suddenly it made your hands feel cold.

He tried to get comfortable on the couch again, but the tension in his shoulders and the stiff way he moved made it clear that settling back into sleep would be impossible.

Your heart ached for him. You felt terrible.

“You can take the air mattress, Bucky,” you said, already rising to your feet. “Here, I’ll move my things—”

As you stepped away, Bucky’s hand immediately clamped around your wrist. “No, stop. Just—just keep the mattress, okay? I’ll be fine,” he insisted, though the wobble in his voice betrayed how he really felt.

Your frown deepened. Even in this vulnerable state, he held onto that same stubborn pride that had clashed with yours earlier at the docks. Except this time, his attitude didn’t piss you off. Standing before him while he looked so broken and tired only made you feel completely useless.

“Is there anything I can do?” you asked quietly, searching his face. “Anything to help?”

Bucky managed a small smile—a forced, tired expression that didn’t reach his eyes. He let go of your wrist, his hand falling back to the couch.

“Let’s just get some rest. We’ve got a big birthday party tomorrow. I’m sorry for waking you.”

You stood there for a second, looking at the cramped, uncomfortable couch and then back at the oversized air mattress that looked far too big for just one person.

“You’re really pulling at my heartstrings here, old man.” You reached out, grabbing the hem of his blanket. “Come on. There’s plenty of room. Let’s just share the mattress.”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening as he looked from you to the bed. “S-share…?”

You were already getting settled on your side, your back facing him, hoping the distance would help his flustered state.

“You need sleep, and I’m not going to be able to close my eyes knowing you’re over there miserable on a cramped couch,” you huffed. “Now get over here.”

Bucky knew there was no point in arguing with you further. If he had learned anything from the disaster at the docks, it was that once you set your mind on something, he was better off just letting you have your way.

With a reluctant, heavy sigh, he finally stood up and moved toward the air mattress. The mattress dipped significantly under his body as he shuffled around to get comfortable on his side. He kept a respectable amount of space between the both of you, lying stiffly on the very edge.

You both remained back to back, with only the sound of crickets outside filling the silence.

“Do you get nightmares often?” you suddenly asked.

Bucky hesitated. “Not as much as I used to,” he answered in a gravelly rasp. “But they still come and go.”

There was another pause.

This time, Bucky broke it.

“Do you care if I sleep without a shirt on?”

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped your lips. “Don’t worry,” you chuckled. “I’m not looking.”

The sound of your laughter in this awkward, tense space made his shoulders ease slightly and his heart beat a little slower. You two continued to lay quietly like that for a long moment—side by side, back to back.

There were a million thoughts running through Bucky’s head, and he felt particularly restless.

Finally, he decided to ask the very thing that had been occupying his mind since you two first met.

“Why do you dislike me so much?”

Bucky braced himself for the answer, but it didn’t come.

He waited, wondering if you were pretending not to hear him. He called your name softly and turned over his shoulder to look at you, but he stopped short.

You had already fallen asleep.

The morning light pierced through the front windows, hitting you right in the face. The quiet peace of the night before had been replaced by the chaotic, joyful energy of a house in full celebration mode.

From the kitchen, the clattering of pots and pans and the high pitched laughter of AJ and Cass bounced off the walls, forcing you awake.

You blinked, rubbing the grogginess from your eyes as you realized the air mattress felt much, much lighter. Bucky was already gone. His side of the bed was nearly smoothed over, and his blanket was folded neatly back on the couch—as if he hadn’t slept next to you at all.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Sarah called out from the kitchen. “I’m so sorry for all this ruckus. We were tryin’ our best to stay quiet, but everyone is just so excited since it’s AJ’s big day today.”

A sleepy, lopsided smile pulled at your lips at the sight of Sarah and the kids gathered in the living room.

“It’s okay,” you said groggily, pulling yourself off the air mattress. “Happy Birthday, AJ.”

You started walking toward Sarah, meeting her in the kitchen. You took note of the trays and various types of produce lying around. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sarah didn’t glance up from the onions she was laying out on the cutting board.

“Oh no, no,” she clicked her tongue. “It’s a warzone in here that only I can handle. You’d only get in my way, and I don’t need two people trippin’ over each other in this kitchen—I can leave that to my kids.”

You frowned, leaning against the wall. “Are you sure? I feel bad just sitting around while you’re doing all this—”

“I’m positive,” Sarah cut you off, pointing her knife at you and then toward the clock on the wall. “The party doesn’t start ‘til five. So you can get outta here and enjoy New Orleans or somethin’ until everything’s ready.”

“But Sarah, that’s an hour drive—”

“Out!” she laughed, shooing you toward the front door with a wave of her knife. “Go breathe some fresh air. Enjoy yourself and the town. I know you miss it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, just as the sound of Bucky approaching from the backyard—already dressed for the day—met you and Sarah in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he nodded to you curtly, as if last night hadn’t happened at all.

Then he glanced at Sarah with a smile—that stupidly charming smile. He nodded toward the counter. “Let me help—”

Before he could take a step closer, Sarah pointed the knife at him, too. She looked back at you. “And take hunky robot here with you while you’re at it.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the way she brushed Bucky aside.

Bucky blinked, confused. “Take me where?”

“Sarah, if I’m going out to enjoy the town, I’m doing it by myself—”

You were cut off by the sound of the screen door hitting the wall as Sam hauled a heavy box of supplies into the room. He dropped it onto the floor with a loud thud and wiped the sweat from his forehead, grinning when he saw the three of you standing there.

“Oh, perfect,” Sam panted. “You goin’ to town? Take Bucky with you. Show him around. He’s been following me around like some fly buzzin’ in my ear.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms defensively. “A fly?”

Sam ignored him as he began to unbox. “Seriously, take him. He needs the fresh air, and I need the floor space. Go on, get out of here.”

You were about to protest—to insist on staying and offer your assistance—but Sam and Sarah were already bickering in the kitchen, talking about how Sam had to pick up AJ’s friends and run to the store for last minute groceries.

When you told them that you could be an extra set of hands, they both looked at you and, at the same time, shouted, “Get out!”

Now, you found yourself behind the wheel of Sarah’s run-down but reliable Chevy with Bucky sitting in the passenger seat.

He had offered to drive, but you didn’t allow him to—which, after the incident with the boat, was a smart move on his part.

The radio didn’t work, so you two sat in awkward silence with the windows rolled down, letting the humid breeze pass through as you drove toward New Orleans. Bucky had one arm out the window, his eyes focused on the trees passing by.

“So, where are you taking me?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“New Orleans,” you answered flatly.

The short burst of warmth that the two of you had shared in the middle of the night seemed to have disappeared completely. Bucky had his body turned slightly away from you, and maybe that was how he wanted it. Perhaps the vulnerability he had shared last night was something he wanted to keep under wraps.

“I know that,” he scoffed. “But what are we going to do there?”

“I’m taking you to my favorite spot,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road. “Monty’s.”

Bucky hummed. “That like a breakfast joint or something?”

“It’s a classic diner. They have the best crawfish and cheesesteaks you’ll ever put in your mouth,” you said, your stomach growling just thinking about it. “But the best part are the beignets. They have the best stuffed beignets I’ve ever had.”

Bucky finally glanced at you, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve never had a beignet.”

Your eyes went wide, and you looked at him in disbelief. “What? You stay with the Wilsons and you’ve never had a beignet?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

He shook his head again. “I’ve only ever stayed in Delacroix with Sam.”

The idea of introducing the city of New Orleans—a place you adored—to someone who had never been filled you with a sudden burst of excitement, even if it was for Bucky.

“Well, we’ve got a lot of time to spare. So we’ll park somewhere and walk to Monty’s, and since the restaurant is near Jackson Square, I’ll show you around.”

While you kept your eyes on the road, Bucky could only stare at you as you went on and on about the beauty of New Orleans.

You explained breathlessly how gorgeous the square was—about how the greenery around the cathedral was breathtaking. You mentioned the French Market a couple of blocks away and went on about the street musicians and talented jazz players on every corner. You told him about the vendors posted all around and how you could even take a trolley around the area.

For the first time since he met you, he had never heard you speak this much in one breath.

For once, you weren’t throwing petty remarks at him. You talked and talked about the things you loved about the city, and Bucky felt like his heart was swelling too large for his chest.

Before long, the two of you made it into the vibrant heart of New Orleans.

The restaurant was already loud—the clinking of silverware, loud laughter, and a jazz band playing down the street hummed in your ears.

Despite the heat, Bucky had kept his jacket on for as long as possible, but eventually, the Louisiana humidity won.

Now, with his sleeves rolled up, the vibranium of his arm caught the light poking through the window with every movement. You saw the way the couple at the table next to you whispered to each other, and how a group of tourists leaned in, pointing in his direction.

Bucky felt it, too. His jaw was clenched, and he kept his left hand tucked partially under the table. He looked like he wanted to disappear. It was no wonder he preferred staying at Sam’s.

Then, the server arrived with a tray that smelled like heaven.

“Here you go,” you said, pushing the plate of powdered goodness toward him. “The legendary stuffed beignets,” you added with a bright smile, hoping to ease his mood.

The pastries were massive, perfectly golden brown and buried under a mountain of powdered sugar. Bucky lifted one and took a careful bite, the crunch of the dough giving way to a rich and creamy center. His eyes widened, and he let out a small, muffled “mm” as he chewed.

“It’s good, right?” you grinned, already halfway through your own beignet.

Bucky nodded, taking an even bigger bite. “Good,” he confirmed mid-chew. “Very fucking good.”

As he pulled the beignet away from his mouth, he was oblivious to the thick coat of white powder smeared across his upper lip like a mustache, with a stray patch sitting right on the tip of his nose. Bucky still had that natural, broody look on his face as he chewed. He reached for his water, and as much as you tried to keep a straight face, you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Bucky,” you snickered, shielding your mouth with your hand.

He stopped, glass halfway to his mouth, frowning in confusion. “What?”

“You’ve got…” You pointed to your own face, doubling over as another giggle escaped. “Powder all over your face, old man.”

Bucky reached up with his right hand, wiping his lip only to smear the powder further across his cheek. He realized then how ridiculous he must have looked.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes down as his face flushed with embarrassment. But with the way you were giggling across the table, he couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Here, let me help you.”

To save him from further embarrassment, you reached across the small, wobbly table.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, sweeping away the stubborn white powder. Any petty remark Bucky had been about to throw at you died in his throat the second your thumb made contact with his skin.

With the sunlight peering through the window and casting a soft glow on you, you looked… soft.

You looked exactly as you had last night, with the moonlight over your face while you comforted him after his nightmare.

Bucky swallowed hard. “I—”

Suddenly, a waiter rushing by with a loaded tray clipped the corner of your table. The wood jolted, the water glasses sloshing dangerously.

“Sorry, folks! Pardon me,” the man mumbled, already halfway to the next table.

You pulled your hand back quickly, clearing your throat. Bucky sat back, his hand dropping to his lap as he looked toward the door.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a little lower than usual.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s go.”

The two of you left the restaurant. Stepping out into the warm air, Jackson Square was already vibrant and bustling with a good mix of tourists and locals.

Couples drifted past, fingers intertwined or arms slung over shoulders, soaking in the romance of the city. You and Bucky, however, kept a careful, “friendly” distance, though every time your shoulders brushed in the crowd, you both tensed up.

As you rounded the corner toward the cathedral, the soulful, brass of a trumpet pulled you toward a crowd gathered on the sidewalk.

A jazz quartet was set up near the iron gates. The music was loud and swinging. People were swaying, and some older couples were even dancing in the middle of the pavement, lost in the beat as an elderly man sang, his smooth, gravelly voice beaming through the microphone.

You stopped at the edge of the circle, smiling as you watched a young couple spin each other around.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself tapping your foot against the cobblestones. Bucky stood beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, but his eyes weren’t on the musicians. He was watching the people dancing with a look of quiet, distant longing that made your heart ache just a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, grabbing his attention.

Bucky—as if snapped out of his own thoughts—jumped slightly at your question. He looked down at you, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You motioned to the other dancers. “Do you want to dance?”

He blinked as your question processed in his mind. You were inviting him to dance?

Were you trying to pull his leg?

Bucky sucked in a deep breath, his face flushing and his eyes going wide. “… Dance?”

Before Bucky could deny your offer, the saxophone player stepped forward and got lost in a wild, trilling solo that made the crowd cheer even louder. The man on the microphone let out a joyful laugh, clapping his hands in time with the beat.

“That’s it! That’s it!” he called out. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ pretty, now! Everyone grab a partner and start dancin’ if you haven’t already—life’s way too short to be standin’ still.”

More people spilled into the center of the circle, bumping into you and Bucky. Total strangers were spinning each other around, and it was as if the old cobblestones started to shake with everyone’s footsteps dancing over them.

You looked up at Bucky—his body was tense with the clear desire to bolt in the opposite direction.

“Do you want to leave—”

“C’mon now, you two!” the singer bellowed over the music, drawing the eyes of everyone in the circle as he pointed directly at the two of you with a big grin on his face. “I see you shy young lovebirds over there. Don’t be shy, big man—take the lady’s hand and show us what you got!”

Bucky looked like he wanted to die.

His face was as red as a tomato, and his body was as stiff as a rock. You wanted to laugh at him being called a ‘young lovebird big man,’ but you knew that would only wound his pride even more.

You grabbed his hand, and his body jolted, not expecting the sudden contact.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Come on,” you said, nodding your head toward the middle of the circle. “We’re going to dance.”

“What? Hey—wait—!”

Bucky let himself be dragged to the center of the circle, his feet dragging against the cobblestones.

He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Just twelve hours ago, he had been waking up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, and now he was standing in the middle of Jackson Square with a hundred sets of eyes on him.

This was worse than any nightmare he ever had, probably.

“I can’t,” he hissed, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at the couples spinning around them. “I haven’t danced since... since…”

The Forties.

“Just don’t think about it,” you said, stepping closer into his arms so he was forced to look at you instead of the crowd.

You took his right hand in yours and placed your other hand on his shoulder. His hand found your waist—respectfully. “Just follow my lead.”

You started moving your body to the swing of the rhythm, pulling him into a simple two step move.

At first, Bucky was like a statue—immovable and completely terrified—but then you caught the beat and spun yourself out. Your hand remained intertwined with his before you stepped back into his arms with a little chuckle.

Everyone around you beamed with glee. As the saxophone solo reached its peak, the notes spiraling higher and higher into the humid Louisiana air, Bucky finally started to follow along. His long legs found the rhythm, and he began moving with you.

The man on the microphone threw his head back, laughing in pure delight as Bucky finally found his feet. He pointed at Bucky with a wink before pulling the mic back to his lips.

“There he is! White boy’s got rhythm!” he cheered—and the crowd joined in—before he sung back into a smooth, jazzy verse.

As Bucky spun you around to the music, everything else became a complete blur.

In this moment, it was just you, Bucky, and the beautiful music of New Orleans.

He would occasionally step on your feet, and you would occasionally step on his. You bumped into other dancing couples now and then, but it didn’t matter. You were both laughing, getting lost in the moment and in each other.

It was the first time either of you had seen the other smile like that—completely genuine and unburdened.

After everything that had happened today, it felt like things between you would be different from here on out. There was a soft, gentle side to Bucky that you were slowly starting to notice—a side that made you realize it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he were to… pursue Sarah.

As the song came to an end, Bucky dipped you, holding you up with the strength of his arms alone. The two of you looked at each other breathlessly, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you—just like the other couples were doing, exchanging sweet, quick pecks as the music faded.

But he swallowed hard, hauling you back up and abruptly pulling his hands away from the closeness of your body.

“We should go… so we can make it back in time for the party,” he said, his voice a little strained.

For some reason, the sudden loss of Bucky’s touch hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

“I… sure,” you nodded, straightening your clothes and avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. It’s a long drive. We should go.”

This time, Bucky insisted on driving back to Sarah’s, his excuse being, “You showed me New Orleans, the least I can do is drive us home.”

With how great the day had been and the good mood you were in because of it, you had no problem letting him take the wheel.

“New Orleans is beautiful,” Bucky said, glancing at you with a small smile. “It’s busy and the crowds are loud, but I had a lot of fun—surprisingly so.”

You chuckled, letting the breeze sweep over your face as you looked out the window. “There’s so much more I have to show you. Like the steamboats—oh! And if we’d gone further downtown French Quarter, I could’ve introduced you to my favorite spot for Cajun gumbo—”

Bucky snickered. Here you were again—rambling on about your favorite things. But to Bucky, listening to you talk was, oddly enough, music to his ears.

“That all sounds great,” he said. “Just no swamp boat tours, please. I’ve had enough of those.”

You threw your head back with a hearty laugh. “Fair enough.”

The truck slowly began to lose its momentum, the engine sputtering and making strange sounds—sounds that indicated it wouldn’t survive the over hour long drive back home.

“Uh… Bucky?” you asked, sitting up straighter as you watched the speedometer needle start to dip. “What’s going on?”

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I… I don’t know.”

“Well, stop slowing down! We’re in the middle of the road!” Panic started to flare as you glanced at the rearview mirror.

“I’m not slowing down,” Bucky snapped back, his voice rising in panic equal to yours. He pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal, but Sarah’s Chevy only groaned in response. “The truck is doing it on its own.”

“Well, fix it!” you shrieked. “Like… shift gears or something!”

“Fix it?” Bucky scoffed at your expectations.

He groaned, steering the truck toward the grassy shoulder. He peered through the windshield, his expression grim as the truck gave one final lurch before going completely dead. He sighed, reaching for the keys.

“Cut the engine and try again,” you urged.

He gave you a snappy look—mostly because that was exactly what he was about to do.

“No shit,” he mumbled, twisting the key to try the ignition again. He grunted, muttering curses as he tried over and over, but the truck wouldn’t budge.

“Great,” Bucky muttered, leaning his head back against the headrest with a thud. “Just great.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed in disbelief.

You had over an hour’s drive ahead of you, and with it already being four o’clock, you were definitely going to be late for AJ’s birthday party.

“You broke Sarah’s truck.”

Bucky’s eyes flew wide as he turned to you, appalled by your audacity. “I broke Sarah’s truck?”

You crossed your arms and stubbornly glared out the window, refusing to look at him. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t Bucky’s fault—the thing was a relic—but with the panic of missing the party bubbling up, you couldn’t help yourself.

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, just stay in the truck, alright? I’ll fix this.”

He pushed the door open and hopped out, but despite his instructions, you were right on his heels.

Bucky popped open the hood, and a fresh cloud of gray smoke billowed out, forcing him to cough and wave his hand to clear the air. He leaned over the engine bay, his vibranium hand resting on the frame as he squinted at the mess of hoses and wires.

“See anything?” you pestered over his shoulder.

“I see a lot of things that shouldn’t be smoking,” he mumbled grumpily.

He reached in, his fingers grazing a radiator hose that looked suspiciously frayed. He tried to tighten a loose bolt, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, but as soon as he touched a connector near the battery, a stray spark flew up.

“It’s the alternator,” he suggested, pulling his hand back and wiping grease onto his jeans. “Or the fuel pump. Or maybe it’s just tired of living.”

“Can you fix it?” you asked, your brows furrowed.

He looked at the smoking engine, then back at the empty road, and finally at you. He let out a long, defeated breath and shook his head.

“There are no tools for me to work with.” He explained, shutting the hood.

“Oh my god,” you repeated, your heart racing. “Oh my god—wait, so what do we do? Do we call someone?”

Bucky already had his phone out—a damned flip phone—and was already dialing Sam’s number.

“What are you doing?” you pestered him, buzzing around him like a fly.

“I’m calling Sam to pick us up,” he answered shortly.

“Oh—okay… good… that’s… good.”

You crossed your arms, your thumb nail caught between your teeth as you started to pace back and forth.

You felt terrible about Sam having to go out of his way to bail you out of this mess on his nephew’s birthday—and you felt even worse about adding a broken truck to the long list of things Sarah already had to take care of.

“Sam, can you hear me? Hello?” Bucky started, raising his voice to be heard over the static. “We’re stranded on—” He looked at you. “Where are we?”

“300 East,” you answered quickly.

“300 East. Sarah’s truck broke down and we need a—hello? Sam, can you hear me?”

Bucky tried again, but the line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed, snapping it shut.

“Wait, what happened? Did he pick up?”

“Line went dead,” Bucky said, staring at the useless piece of plastic in his hand.

“But is he coming?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Does he know where we are? Did he hear you?”

“I don’t know.”

Your patience, already worn thin from the humidity and the stress of the entire situation, finally snapped.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” You threw your hands up in the air, your frustration taking over. “God, maybe if I had driven, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess—”

Bucky’s head snapped toward you, a scoff leaving his lips as he glared at you. “Excuse me? Why do you always blame things on me?”

“Because you insisted on driving! And you weren’t just driving—you were speeding! You were pushing the truck to its limits and now look at us!” Your voice rose as you stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Look at the mess you got us into!”

Bucky’s face twisted into a sneer so ugly, it nearly made you flinch. He stepped even closer, letting your finger dig into his chest as he loomed over you, as if reminding you of your place.

“You know, I’m starting to get sick and tired of the way you’re treating me,” he growled. “We had a great day—we were finally getting along—and you went and ruined it.”

Your eyes went wide. “I ruined it?”

“Oh, you ruined it the second you opened your mouth!” Bucky barked.

He didn’t even give you a chance to argue back, stepping forward until you were backed up against the hood of the truck.

“I’ve tried my best to be patient with you—goddamnit!” he continued angrily. “I’ve tried to suck up every petty thing you’ve said about me, the way you look at me like I’m nothing but trouble, the way you’ve treated me like a burden on Sarah’s and Sam’s doorstep.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, a smile touching his lips—though it wasn’t a smile that held any happiness at all.

“Hell, I thought today I finally got through to that stubborn little head of yours. I thought maybe we actually enjoyed each other’s company for five minutes. But I guess not, because the second something goes wrong, you go right back to the same old script.”

You felt your bottom lip wobble. You kept your eyes down, refusing to look him in the eye.

You knew he was right—he had no idea how he was actually perceived by you, and your treatment of him was starting to feel completely one-sided and unfair.

Unable to take his yelling any longer, you shoved Bucky out of your way. He stumbled back, surprised by the force of your hand. You started walking away from him toward the truck doors without a word, but his voice followed you, sounding exhausted and completely defeated.

“Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

The sound of his boots scraping against the gravel caught up to you. Before you could pull away, he put a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm as he urged you to turn around.

“Look at me—”

You wrenched your shoulder out of his grasp, spinning around to face him.

“You want to know why?” you hissed. “It’s because of what you said the first day I met you. I overheard you talking to Sam—laughing about how you were ‘merely joking around’ with Sarah, and how you weren’t looking for anything serious.”

Bucky flinched, his hands dropping to his sides as the anger that clouded his eyes was replaced by a look of sheer confusion.

“Sarah is my best friend. I was the one who sat with her through the divorce. I’m the one who stays when Sam has to leave for months at a time. I’ve seen her work herself to the bone for those boys and this family, and she deserves someone who actually values her. She deserves a real man who means what he says—not someone who uses her as a punchline for a joke with his buddy.”

You stepped even closer, and Bucky looked more and more blindsided.

“You’re ‘just having fun,’ but people like you don’t realize that when you play around with someone like Sarah, you leave a mess behind for people like me to clean up. So yeah, I’ve been hard on you. Because I’m not going to let you come into her life, charm her every time you’re over, and then leave her wondering what she did wrong when men like you get bored.”

Bucky just stood there, taking in every word as they echoed in his mind.

Was this what you had thought of him all this time?

That he was some playboy with nothing but bad intentions for Sam’s—his best friend’s—sister?

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky finally breathed out.

You crossed your arms, tilting your chin with that same stubborn scrunch of your face you did every time you were sure you were right.

“Of course you don’t,” you bit out.

Bucky huffed a dry laugh, running his tongue over his front teeth as he looked down at you. Despite everything, there it was again—that familiar, infuriating spark of yours.

Here you were, being a brat again, and as much as you got under his skin, he couldn’t ever look away.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted, his voice sincere and gentle. “I didn’t... I didn’t think it would affect her like that. Or you, especially. If I had known it was getting under your skin, I wouldn’t have kept it up.”

“If you knew you weren’t looking for a relationship, Bucky, then you should’ve known to stop. It’s that simple,” you snapped back, refusing to let the sudden softness in his voice throw you off.

“I get it. I’m sorry, alright?” Bucky said, his voice straining between genuine regret and a growing irritation.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. You dismissively rolled your eyes and turned on your heel. Right now, you just needed to get away from him, so you reached for the truck door, intending to climb back into the cab and wait in silence until Sam eventually found you.

But before your hand could even wrap around the handle, Bucky’s vibranium arm shot out, slamming the door shut hard enough to make the Chevy shake.

He didn’t move his hand, pinning you between his body and the truck.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled, leaning down so his face was inches from your ear. “I’m apologizing, and you’re still being a stubborn brat.”

“And you’re being annoying!” you shot back, refusing to shrink away even though you were trapped. Your back pressed against his chest with every shallow breath you took.

“Oh? So not only am I a player, but I’m also annoying?” His eyes darkened as they searched yours, catching your gaze as you tilted your head back to look at him. “I can never win with you, can I?”

Your heart raced as you looked him dead in the eye, trying to ignore the way he loomed over you. “And what exactly are you trying to win out of me, Barnes?” you challenged.

Bucky’s gaze dropped to your mouth, tracing the curve of it before snapping back up. He shifted his stance, his thigh brushing firmly against yours and closing the last bit of air between you.

“Your approval,” he murmured. His voice vibrated so low in his chest that you could feel it against your own body. “I just want you to like me.”

“I… do like you,” you admitted, though your voice came out shaky. “You’re a friend of Sam’s—I respect you enough for that.”

“That’s the problem,” Bucky said, the complaint sounding like a painful corak. “You don’t like me. You tolerate me.”

With his vibranium hand still propped up against the truck near your head, his right hand trailed up to play with the ends of your hair. He twirled the strands between his fingers with a careful, almost yearning touch, his fingertips gentle against the locks.

He kept his head down, but even without looking, you could feel the burn of his gaze on the back of your head.

“I want more.”

A short, sharp breath escaped your lungs at his admission. More?

“Bucky,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “What more could you possibly want from me? If I can tolerate you—isn’t that already enough?”

“No, it’s not,” he groaned. He lowered his head, nuzzling his nose against your hair and breathing you in. “I want the girl who was there for me when I was having a nightmare. I want the girl I was eating beignets with and dancing with in the middle of Jackson Square.”

Your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were running out of air.

He pressed closer, and a small gasp escaped you as you felt his thigh wedge firmly against yours. When your hand scrambled for the side of the truck for support, you gasped as as you felt a twitch coming from between his legs.

“But instead, I’m getting nothing but a real fucking brat,” he hissed into your ear.

He rocked his hips forward, letting you feel his hard erection against your bottom, forcing you to press even deeper against the truck.

You couldn’t believe it—the man you swore you hated was hovering over you, rocking his hips against yours like an animal. You were pinned hard against the truck, helpless to do anything but take it.

The worst part was that even if you tried to protest, you knew he’d see right through you. You were actually enjoying this. You craved the feeling of him, the way Bucky was grinding against you from behind right here on the side of the road, where anyone could drive by and see exactly what he was doing to you.

Despite being caught in such a vulnerable position, you couldn’t help but let that stubborn streak flare up one more time—mostly because you were dying to see how much more you could get out of him.

You tilted your head back until it rested against his shoulder, looking up at him and batting your lashes.

“Is this it then, Barnes?” you teased, rubbing your bottom against his straining, painful bulge. “You think pinning me against a broken truck and acting like a caveman is going to make me like you? You’re even more desperate than I thought.”

A broken, ragged shudder escaped his lips as he watched the curve of you settle perfectly against his cock.

It had been a long time since he had been in contact with a woman like this—much less the one woman who had been driving him absolutely crazy since the moment he stepped foot back in Louisiana.

Bucky’s hands moved from the truck to your waist, giving you a possessive squeeze.

He held you still as he continued to grind into you. A low groan escaped him as the friction of his clothes against his sensitive skin hit just right.

He felt like he was on the verge of losing it. He could have come right there from the dry humping alone.

But he wasn’t about to give in that easily.

“Desperate...” he muttered, breathless, as he continued to hump you like an animal. “Yes—I’m desperate. I’ve been desperate for you this entire fucking time, and you didn’t even know it.”

His fingers tangled into your hair, giving it a sharp tug that forced a gasp from your lips and exposed the long line of your neck to him.

“Every time I come back to Louisiana, I’m always hoping you’d be there—even if your very existence aggravates me.”

He was always looking for you?

Bucky nuzzled his nose against the sensitive skin there, his lips grazing your throat as he continued to talk filth.

“Need to kiss you,” he mumbled against your skin, peppering your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. “Need to stick my tongue down your throat—bet that’ll shut you up for good, won’t it?”

His rough hands roamed relentlessly over your body, bunching the fabric of your top and squeezing your breasts through the thin material. He was possessive, his touch leaving no doubt about who you belonged to in this moment.

You let out a breath as his fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, cupping your tits in his palms.

“A lot of talking, but not a lot of action,” you taunted, trying to bite back a moan as he gripped you harder. “Seems very on brand for you, doesn’t it?”

With a snarl, his grip on your hips tightened. He spun you around, nearly slamming your back against the truck. Your yelp of surprise was cut short the second his lips found yours.

The kiss was desperate, almost inexperienced in its hunger, but he moved like a man who had been starving for this very moment with you.

You couldn’t help but lean into him, your hands tangling into his hair with a tug. You moaned into his mouth, and Bucky groaned back, his tongue pushing past your lips to delve deep into the wet warmth of your mouth.

He kept you pinned firmly against the truck, his thigh between yours. You were growing wetter by the second, and you took it upon yourself to start rubbing against him, grinding your dampened cunt against his thick thigh.

Bucky pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, both of you panting for air. He watched, eyes dark and blown out, as you practically fucked yourself against his leg.

A taunting, low laugh left his lips at the filthy sight of it.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “You’re fucking asking for it now.”

Reaching behind you, he yanked the door handle and threw it open.

“Get in the damn truck,” Bucky demanded roughly.

You scrambled inside with a defiant grin, your lips puffy and swollen. You didn’t hesitate to discard your bottoms, leaving yourself in just your panties as you sprawled across the bench seat.

From your spot on the upholstery, you watched with uneven breaths as Bucky began to fumble with his belt.

“Turn around,” Bucky instructed, palming his cock through his jeans as he finally rid himself of the thick fabric. “Face down, ass up.”

Before you could even get into position, Bucky crawled into the truck right after you.

The truck dipped with all the weight shifting to one side, and he slammed the door shut behind him. He didn’t even give you time to adjust before his hands found your hips, spinning you around until you were bent over, ass presented to him with your hands planted firmly on the worn leather of the Chevy’s seats.

“God—eager, are you?” you teased.

“Shut up,” Bucky hissed as his flesh hand found the back of your hair, pinning you down so your cheek squished up against the leather.

His fingers hooked the waistband of your cotton panties, giving them a harsh tug and nearly ripping them.

With your face pressed into the seats, you couldn’t make out what he was doing from behind you—only the sounds coming out of his mouth.

“Fuck—look at you,” Bucky groaned, accompanied by the sounds of his jeans and belt being pushed down. “Dripping and completely bare—all just for me.”

Then, you heard the sounds of skin rubbing against skin.

The truck started to shake as deep, breathy little moans escaped Bucky’s mouth. Craning your head to peek at him, your eyes widened at what you saw.

Bucky was admiring the view from behind, his eyes completely glued to the curve of your ass and your wet, puffy cunt—clenching and begging for him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his cool, vibranium hand spread your ass wide to get a better view, while the other was stroking his cock hard and fast.

Pre-cum already bubbled at the tip as breathy groans kept leaving his mouth. He was so big—so fucking big—and you weren’t sure he was even going to fit.

Trying to tilt your head to get a better look, Bucky’s hand immediately left his cock and went straight back to your head, pinning you in place against the seat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

You winced. “What? I can’t even look at you now?”

“You don’t get to make demands of me anymore,” he murmured roughly. He guided his cock up and down against your slit, coating himself and spreading his pre-cum everywhere. “Not when you’re bent over like this. Bent over like a dirty little slut.”

Your pussy immediately pulsed and twitched against Bucky’s tip. He probed and teased the entrance, pushing against the tight heat of your cunt to make you moan, but never quite slipping inside.

It was enough to drive you insane.

Despite everything, you wanted him to fill you right here—right in the truck in the middle of the road, where anyone could see you getting fucked by him.

You started to wiggle your hips, your entrance catching his tip and forcing a broken groan from his throat.

“Still all this talk and no action,” you taunted, wiggling your ass against him. “You just keep proving me more right every day. You’re all talk—”

A yelp broke from your lips as his palm connected with the bare curve of your ass. Your body arched, a sting blooming across your skin and making your toes curl.

“You just don’t know how to keep that mouth shut, do you?” Bucky growled, leaning over you until his breath was hot against your ear.

Without waiting for an answer, he brought his hand down again, forcing another yelp from you as the slap echoed in the small truck.

Your bottom—bare and vulnerable—began to throb with a pulsing heat. Bucky’s right hand smoothed over the warm skin, and he mockingly clicked his tongue when you bucked your hips back for more, seeking friction from his cock despite the pain.

“Christ,” Bucky groaned, his fingers swiping your sensitive slit. “Did you just get wetter?”

“Bucky…” you whined against the leather seat. “... p-please.”

Bucky froze behind you, his eyes widening slightly as the word hung in the air. Then, a devilish little grin tugged at his lips.

Please?

Did you just say ‘please’?

He continued to soothe your burning skin with his palm, his touch gentle and taunting. “Sorry, sweetheart. What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

You groaned, burying your face out of embarrassment. “You know what? Forget it—”

Another gasp escaped you as his hand came down hard against your bottom again, making your body jolt. Before you could pull away, both of his hands clamped down on your hips, dragging you back until you were pushed against him.

You could feel the ridge of his warm, throbbing cock resting right against the curve of your ass.

“Come on, baby. I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘please.’ Say it again. I know you’ve got a voice.”

When you continued to remain stubbornly silent, he guided his cock toward your entrance, sinking just the tip in.

You arched your back, a needy sound catching in your throat. Bucky groaned, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your tight hole. He wanted to grab your hips and slam you down on his cock—but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to make you beg for it.

“Fuck—come on, sweets. Just say please like a good girl,” he coaxed, his own voice breaking. “Come on, I want to hear you say it. Just one more time for me, baby. Say please once and I’ll give it to you good—I promise.”

Just once.

All he needed from you was a simple, breathy little ‘please’— a broken whimper he could hold onto.

He knew he couldn’t make you beg for much longer, mostly because he was just as greedy as you were. He was starving, and he wanted to fuck you right here, right now, until instead of begging him with a ‘please’ you’d be begging with a ‘stop’.

“P-please…”

The word finally broke from your lips—breathless and broken. It was exactly what he wanted to hear.

With his tip buried in your tight entrance, and you pulsing and wet around him, he needed to feel more. That breathy little ‘please’ was the perfect invitation.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised, his grip on your hips tightening as he began to sink into you—slowly, making sure you felt every agonizing inch. “Good fucking girl.”

Your mouth hung wide open, drool surely spilling out and onto the seats as Bucky stretched you wide until you felt completely filled. Your breath hitched, coming in short, panicked bursts.

“God, you’re so small,” Bucky groaned, leaning over you—his chest pressing hard against your back. “Tight enough to break me.”

Even with your lungs feeling squeezed and your head light from the stretch, you couldn’t help the small, muffled huff that left you. You turned your face to glance back at him with a dazed and defiant look.

“Maybe you’re just… hah… out of practice,” you managed to choke out, a weak smirk tugging at your lips. “Forgotten what a real woman feels like?”

Bucky’s eyes went dark, his brow twitching at your words. He didn’t give you the satisfaction of a laugh. His fingers dug into the leather on either side of your head and he began to pull out, agonizingly slow, only to slam back into you completely—filling you in one hard and ruthless thrust. A thrust hard enough to make the truck shake.

“Out of practice?” he hissed. He did it again, a short, hard thrust that knocked the wind out of you. “Since you’ve got such a big mouth, I’ll make sure to fuck that one next.”

Bucky grabbed your hips, his fingers pushing into your flesh and making you gasp as he began to rock his hips back and forth. He withdrew nearly all the way, leaving you cold and aching for a split second, before fucking all the way back into you.

The truck began to rock and creak, the worn leather squeaking beneath your sweaty palms as he fucked you into it.

He made sure you felt every ridge and throb of him, his tip aiming at your softest spots until your vision swam and blurred.

“Still.. got something.. to say?” he grunted between words, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt as he fucked you.

You couldn’t even form a syllable. Your eyes—rolled back—were disoriented as he used your body for his pleasure.

All the noises that filled the small space of the truck were filthy. The wet squelching of your pussy as Bucky’s cock pumped in and out of you. The breathy grunts and groans leaving Bucky’s lips. Your gasps and mewls whimpering in the air.

“I… hah—mph—B-bucky, I—”

“Look at you,” he huffed a deep, condescending laugh. “Can’t even talk now, can you? Just laying there and taking it. God—I’ve dreamed of this so many times, you know? You, pinned underneath me, finally putting this bratty pussy to work. When I fill you up, we’re not nearly done. I’m going to use your mouth next, I’ll make sure of it.”

Every filthy word that left Bucky’s lips only made you clench tighter around him, bringing you closer and closer.

“But fuck, your pussy is so tight—feel like I could be buried here all day,” Bucky groaned.

He reached around, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing with a pressure that sent sparks through your vision. He felt you flutter around him, tightening around his cock almost painfully so.

“Fuck—you gonna cum?” he asked roughly.

“M-mph—mhm—!” you moaned against the leather, nodding your head frantically. “M’gonna cum, Bucky!”

A deep, sexy vibration of a laugh rumbled in Bucky’s chest—and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your body shook against the leather as your walls clamped down on him with heavy pulses. A broken, high pitched keen left your throat as you felt yourself come undone all over him, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure crashing over you while he savored your tightness.

Bucky clenched his teeth, hissing as your pussy—already tight as it was—became restrictive and completely unbearable for him.

But despite the tightness, he didn’t stop—not even for a second.

It was too good not to.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, baby—” Bucky gasped, his hips moving uncoordinated as his cock pulsed and throbbed. “Fuck, fuck, gonna cum… inside… gonna fill you up—!”

Bucky pushed his hips into yours, bottoming out until there wasn’t a breath of space left between you.

You felt his cock pulse inside you—and then you started to feel even fuller than you already were. His cum began to seep into your tight pussy, pumping into you until you overflowed, the excess dripping out and onto the seats.

He dropped his forehead against the back of your neck, his hot breath tickling your damp skin as he felt himself start to calm down, catching his breath.

His hands roamed over your hips, giving you a gentle rub before he pulled himself out of your abused pussy with a wet squelch. He sat back on the seat, chest heaving as he motioned for you to come closer.

“Come here, baby,” he cooed.

Bucky gently guided you toward his lap, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your sweaty forehead. Then, his vibranium hand found the back of your head, slowly—gently—guiding you down toward his cock, which was still half hard and coated in juices.

“I said I was going to use your mouth next, didn’t I?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered with a shaky laugh.

You were exhausted, your body still trembling from the way he had completely ruined you, yet here he was—demanding more. Bucky didn’t look bothered at all. He just flashed a lopsided, lazy grin.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded softly, his vibranium fingers curling gently into your hair, guiding you back toward his lap.

You rolled your eyes even as you sank down, your tongue slowly dragging up his spent cock. Your tongue danced around the tip—then beneath the head—making him shudder and groan.

He was sensitive, yet he still wanted more. You stretched your mouth open, taking him in as best as you could. He was already thickening back to fullness, responding instantly to the warmth of your throat.

As you bobbed your head lazily on his cock, Bucky tossed his head back against the leather seats with a moan, rutting his hips up gently—just barely—seeking more.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “God—that fucking mouth—”

But the sound of his phone ringing cut through the truck, silencing him instantly. Bucky stiffened, his breath hitching as he felt around the tangled leather seats. He grabbed his phone, glancing at the flip-phone screen with a low curse.

It was Sam.

He answered, pressing the phone to his ear while his other hand stayed tangled in your hair, his thumb stroking your cheek as you continued to work his cock.

“Hey man! I'm halfway there,” Sam’s voice crackled through. “Just hold on for about twenty more minutes, alright?”

Bucky’s head fell back against the headrest, his eyes squeezing shut as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock. His hips gave a small, involuntary twitch, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from crying out.

“Alright,” Bucky managed to grit out, his voice a strained, gravelly mess. “We’re here… waiting— fuck.”

He cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath as you took him deeper, his fingers tightening in your hair as a warning. There was a moment of silence on the other line.

He was sure the connection had died or Sam might’ve hung up.

“Yo, Buck? You sound hurt,” Sam said, his voice rising with concern. “Y’all good? You two aren’t fighting, are you?”

Fighting was one way to put it.

“We’re perfectly fine,” Bucky huffed, growing impatient. “You said twenty minutes, right? Okay. We’ll wait for you. Bye.”

He flipped the phone shut and tossed it somewhere behind him, his attention snapping back to you. You fluttered your eyes to look up at him, your mouth still stuffed with his cock.

“You heard that, baby? You’ve got twenty minutes to make me cum again,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. “Think that’s enough time for you?”

You popped his cock out of your mouth, wiping at the saliva that spilled onto your chin with a smug, little grin.

“Bet I can do it in two.”

“Oh, here you go again.”

i actually had a lot of fun writing this. now i want to book a trip to new orleans.

if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!

I do not have a tag list. to get notified for fic updates, please follow @notify-superbassbuck and turn on notifications.

You grabbed your phone, shoving it into your pocket as you padded down the hallway. You looked through the peephole.

Of course.

Kurt stood there, in some video game t-shirt and basketball shorts, hair still wet from the shower. He didn't even have shoes on. 

A sudden urge to mess with him washed over you.

You opened the door. He jumped slightly, then gave you a strained, awkward smile.

"Hi Kurt." You said, tone flat. 

"Hey. Just um. My internet is out and I have an upload schedule to stick to, it's really important to help-to build the brand, ya know? I wanted to ask if I could use yours for a bit...?"

You fought the urge to smile. You felt a little sorry for him, if you were being honest.

You fought the urge to smile. You felt a little sorry for him, if you were being honest.

Truthfully, he wasn't ugly. Sure, his hair was always a little greasy somehow. And it was like he never developed a fashion sense beyond high-school, but he had potential.

He had nice eyes, a pretty smile. If he could relax.

"Why did you tell your viewers I got popcorn lung?" You ask bluntly. 

He looked nervous for a moment, before excitement ran through him. "You watched my latest video?" 

"Not the point. You told them I had popcorn lung. I didn't have that." You said.

"Right. Sorry. I wanted to make the story more compelling." He admitted shamelessly. "I could really use the Wi-Fi, my next video is on a tight deadline. I actually got a sponsor..." 

You found this very doubtful. It was probably one of those scam brands that messaged every creator. Still.

"Alright. Come in."

"Seriously? Cool. Awesome."

"Your feet better be clean." You warned, stepping aside to let him into your house. The floorboards creaked as he entered, and you noticed how he looked around your place. Taking everything in. Like he was cataloging it.

"You've been here before, Kurt." You roll your eyes as you lead him through the house. 

"Y-yeah, I know. But that was for your birthday and we were kids. And I think your mom made you invite me." 

You stalled in walking to your bedroom for only a second. It was true, she had insisted. His mom and hers were in some new age book club together. She'd always tried to push you two together.

You opened your laptop back up, typed in the password.

"You use a pretty strong password for... someone like you." He said, as if he genuinely believed himself to be a master hacker.

"Someone like me?" You turn around to face him, crossing your arms. "What does that mean?" 

"No. I just uh. I mean. You're not into computers and stuff." He said, gesturing to your pink fuzzy rug.

"You make a lot of assumptions." You mutter. 

Unfortunately, you forgot you had your laptop opened to his video when he came to your door, so his own face stared back at him from the screen.

"Wow," he said softly, awe in his voice. "Wait..." 

He scrunches his eyebrows together and then looks at you with an insecure smile. 

"You're not subscribed?" He sounded personally hurt by this. "Did... did you watch it on incognito mode?" He leaned forward, squinting. He was so close you could smell the cheap Axe body spray mixing with the soap scent of his shower. You felt a weird little flutter in your stomach.

"Nope. Not even a like." You smirked. His face fell completely.

"You've...you're not subscribed? To my channel? At all?"

"Nope."

"But you're watching it."

"Just let me find the password." You dismiss him, bending to your bed and looking on your screen now. 

Kurt took in your room, very girly.  All pastel pink, purple and blue decor. It was the polar opposite of his plain grey bedroom. You had so many things in here, trinkets and toys, pictures of friends pinned to a giant corkboard on your wall. A bedframe.

You had a life he didn't. A whole aesthetic. 

"You could really be like, super viral for those, uh, lifestyle videos. Where girls show off their rooms and... stuff. You know? There would be subscribers who would like that a lot."

You don't dignify him with a response as you cross the room to your desk and grab a sticky note and pen. You could tell it was the only way he knows how to process what he's seeing. In terms of content.

While that was true, Kurt has also been dreaming of being in this bedroom for nearly a decade. The two of you were alone, here, in the middle of the day. You didn't have to take him in your house, you could have just written the password down and given it to him back at the door. 

You came back and slapped the pink sticky note into his chest.

"Done. Now leave me in peace."

He took it reluctantly, fingers brushing yours.

"Are you... are you gonna finish watching the video?" He asks, the idea of you watching in your room alone making him flush. You, comfortable in your bed, relaxing after a shower, your cheeks pink from the heat. Watching him. Listening to him. Hearing his voice.

You smile at his nervousness. Something about it was incredibly endearing. He's trying so hard not to look at your lips.

"Maybe." You shrug. 

"Do you," he clears his throat a little. "Do you watch them to make fun? With your friends? Or...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"What friends?" It didn't mean to slip out. "I mean, most of my friends don't live around here. We met online. And I'm not going to send them your videos." 

"Why not?"

"Because they're..." 

Not good?

Cringe? 

You decide to be a little more kind. "My friends aren't your target demographic." 

It wasn't a total lie. 

He looked crestfallen.

"Right. No. Sure. Okay."

He didn't move. Just looked at you, a desperate energy radiating from him. A longing. And it wasn't just about subscribers and views. It was about you.

"Are you gonna go, or what?" You challenged, your posture tense.

"But you watch them." He says, like he's just realized it. "You didn't subscribe, but you watch them." He was like a detective solving a case. "Why?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Maybe it was because of the way he looked at you right now. Like you were the only girl in the world.

"God Kurt," you sigh, annoyed. "Because you're cringe, okay? I cringe watch it. But it's like... I don't know..." You wave a hand vaguely, trying to find the words. "There's something about you. Okay?"

"Something...good?"

"I don't know! Don't put words in my mouth. Just..." You were starting to get flustered. Under his gaze, you felt bare. "It's like... a train wreck, you know? Horrible but I can't look away."

His face didn't even fall this time. It...brightened.

"So I make you feel something?"

"What? No. Kurt what the fuck." He was making your brain short circuit.

"I mean, if you subscribe and share it with your friends, it could really bump my stats. Even if they're... 'cringe watching' it." 

He really saw this as a win.

And in a way, it was.

"You're impossible." You say, your lips twitching. You couldn't help it. A tiny smile broke through. "Fine. I'll subscribe."

And then you did it on your laptop, right in front of him.

"Really?" He sounded breathless. "Wow, thank you. You're a real Kurtie now!" 

"A what?" You let out a breath of a laugh. 

"A Kurtie! An official member of Kurt's World! It's what I call my fans." He beamed. He was so pleased, so genuinely happy about something so small. It was disarming.

You looked at him, past the greasy hair and the desperate-to-be-cool persona. Past the social awkwardness and the slightly concerning obsession with internet fame.

He was just a guy.

A pretty lonely guy, who just wanted someone to see him.

And you did. You always had.

And maybe you didn't just watch his videos to cringe. Maybe you watched them because in some small, pathetic way, he was yours. The weird neighbor you'd grown up next to. The constant in your life.

He'd offer to give you a ride to your friend's house after he got his license, even though you always said no, scared of being seen in his beat-up hatchback.

And when you were in the hospital with your tonsils, your mom told you he'd dropped off a get-well-soon card with some merch from his channel inside. A t-shirt with a crudely drawn smiley face and his user name on it. You'd thrown it in the back of your closet, but you never actually threw it away.

"So," you say, leaning back against your desk, breaking the silence. "What's this sponsor anyway? Who's paying you?"

He seemed a little awkward at the question. "It's um... a toy brand." 

Weird, first sketchy red flag, but he'd reviewed a really weird assortment of this before. Energy drinks, vapes, even Skims for some reason. 

"Like, action figures or what?"

"More like..." He trailed off. "It's uh... The kind that... um... are for pleasure?"

Your jaw was open in an awed disbelief. A slow grin spread across your face.

"They're sending you sex toys for sponsorship?" You sputtered out a laugh. "Kurt, are you serious?"

He looked deeply flustered, but also a little proud. "Yeah! It's a good niche market! Adult sponsors pay better. And this is the highest quality on the market, apparently. State of the art. The PR person was really cool. They reached out to me on my business email."

"Its probably a scam Kurt. Like a drop shipper. Did you have to pay them?" You ask, skeptical. The entire scenario was too funny to be real.

"Not like, a lot... I had to pay for my first few products at cost, you know, for them to see my review style. Build trust." He explains, like it makes perfect sense. "But then they sent me the latest model. For free."

It was too much. You let out another laugh, a real one this time.

The dejected look on his face made your laughter die down a little. 

"I'm sorry, really. That's..." you recover. "Are you gonna make a video about it? In your... garage?"

"I mean... they're for girls so I'm not gonna actually use them. I was going to rate them on like... hand feel and ergonomics. And show the settings... the patterns... the noise level, you know. Quality stuff." He tried to make it sound clinical, but the awkwardness radiating off him was like heat off asphalt.

You could picture it perfectly. Him in front of his closed garage door, holding up a sleek pink vibrator, describing its "dual-action rotary system" with the same 'influencer' voice he used for vape coils.

"Right..." You say, raising an eyebrow. 

It was cute, the way he was rocking on his heels a little, his hands jammed in the pockets of his basketball shorts. His whole demeanor screamed 'trying to play it cool.' You were the one who was flustered now, heat rising to your own cheeks.

Your eyes flickered down, for just a second, to the waistband of his shorts. Then snapped back up.

"I've had s-sex before. Like, plenty of it." He blurted out, the lie so transparent and clumsy it hung in the air between you.

"Okay, Kurt." You said flatly.

"No, seriously. Back in... when I was still in high school. She was... popular. Her name was Jessica." He said, like he'd just pulled a random name from a hat.

You just stared at him. The silence stretched. He was trying so desperately to build this persona of a guy who knew what he was doing. 

"There was no popular girl named Jessica in our high school." You said softly.

You'd always been something of an observer and a wallflower, yourself, but you would have definitely remembered that.

His face crumpled.

This felt different from teasing him about the popcorn lung lie. This one was born from pure, unvarnished insecurity. The kind that made your chest ache with a surprising wave of sympathy.

"She went to a different school." He mumbled, looking at your fuzzy pink rug.

"Okay." You say. Your voice was gentler now. "What'd she look like? Jessica from the other school."

He looked up at the shift in your tone, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"She had... you know. Brown hair. Big... personality." He gestured vaguely in front of his chest, immediately regretting it and shoving both hands back into his pockets.

You bark out a laugh then, unable to help it. "It's okay that you're a virgin, Kurt." The words came out with startling gentleness.

His entire body seized up. Like you'd just struck him. He looked completely cornered, a wild rabbit caught in a snare.

"I am not." His voice was a choked whisper. Defiant. But it lacked all its earlier bluster. "I love sex."

"Okay, you love sex. Noted." You take a step closer to him. The proximity felt charged. "How old were you when you lost it, then?"

"Nineteen." The lie was instant, too quick to be believable.

"I thought you said it was in high school." You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across your face.

"Uh... the summer. Right after. Yeah."

You were so close now you could feel the warmth radiating from him. The cheap Axe scent didn't seem so cheap anymore. It just smelled... clean. Like boy.

"Mhm... and just Jessica? Or have you... loved sex... with anyone else?" Your voice dropped lower, unintentionally sultry. It was the tone you used in your own videos sometimes, for your paid content. 

His breath hitched. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He was staring at your mouth now, no longer even trying to hide it.

"Y-yeah. Jessica. And this one other girl." He was on a roll, a freight train of bad lies. "Blonde. Tall. Model type."

"In Azusa?" The skepticism in your tone was light, almost playful.

"No. We met... in the city. At a cafe."

This was insane. You were enjoying this.

"Right," you said, and before you could think better of it, before the rational part of your brain could wrestle control back from this strange, reckless impulse, you reached out. Your fingers brushed the hem of his t-shirt.

Every muscle in his body went rigid.

"Anyway..." You sighed, turning away like you were bored, like the whole interrogation meant nothing. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

You walked back to your bed and plopped down on the edge, bouncing slightly. The soft shorts clinged to your thighs, rising to show the generous sweep of the against the comforter as you sat. You leaned back on your hands.

"I'm not embarrassed." He said, but it sounded like a question. He hadn't moved from your desk.

"You are." You said with simple confidence. "That's why you lie about it."

"I didn't lie!" He insisted, a little too loudly.

"Jessica? The blonde model? Kurt, please. I've never seen you with a girl besides your mom." It wasn't meant to sound cruel, but it did. His face closed off.

"Just because you haven't seen it doesn't mean it's not happening." He mumbled. He looked so pathetic you almost felt sorry. Almost. But the power was intoxicating.

"Have you ever even... kissed a girl? For real?" Your voice was barely a whisper now.

"Yeah..." It didn't sound like a lie this time. "At that graduation party. You... you were there. I saw you leave."

You search your memory. There was a party. At some rich kid's house. You had gone with a friend and left early because it was boring. Kurt had been there, in a corner. 

"They played like, truth or dare? I think. But with alcohol. I didn't drink though, needed to be sober for the road." He was talking faster now, the memory spilling out. "They, uh, dared this girl. Jenny something. To kiss me. For... like, two minutes."

Your breath caught. That was different. That wasn't a lie. You could picture it. The cruel laughter, the performative dare. The poor girl, Jenny, and an even poorer, pitiable Kurt.

"Did you like it?" You asked, genuinely curious.

He seemed to shrink in on himself. "It was just... wet. And... minty. She had gum." His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't think she wanted to."

The raw honesty of it, the quiet shame, hung in the air between you. It was no longer fun. It was real.

In that moment, you saw him completely. Not as a punchline. Not as your cringey neighbor. But as a person who had been on the receiving end of a small, casual cruelty.

"I'm sorry Kurt. That's... That's a terrible first kiss." Your softness seemed to disarm him further. His head was still bowed. You could only see the damp crown of his hair.

"You're not gonna like, put it on blast on your socials that I'm a virgin, are you?" He looked genuinely terrified at the prospect.

What you didn't say is that it was probably pretty obvious to anyone who watched any one of his videos.

"Why would I do that?" You ask.

"I don't know." He finally looked up at you. His eyes, you realized, were the color of dark honey when the light hit them just right. Vulnerable. Open. "You're making fun of me."

"Is that what I'm doing?" You challenge, but without heat.

"Isn't it?"

You didn't answer. You just looked at him. And then you slid off the edge of the bed. The pastel rug was soft under your bare feet. You closed the distance between you in three slow steps.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, frozen in place.

"Something that isn't a dare." You said. And then you stood on your tiptoes, a hand coming up to cup the side of his neck, your thumb stroking the soft, warm skin just behind his jaw. He was trembling.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely still for a stunned second. Then a sound, a soft choked gasp, escaped his throat as you pulled away. 

It was a soft kiss, gentle. A question, not a demand.

His lips were slightly chapped, a little dry, and he tasted minty.

He stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief, like he couldn't process what had just happened. His breath hitched.

"Why... why'd you do that?" He stammered.

"Your first kiss sounded terrible. I was giving you a do-over."

"Oh. Right. Yeah of course." He tried to act like this was a normal, everyday interaction, a content-crossover, a collaboration. 

"Um... do you get brand sponsorships, like uh... the one I got?" 

It was a bold question. 

"Why do you think I get sponsorships?"

Your personal profiles didn't really have many followers. Friends, people from high school, people you met at concerts or online. The usual amount. 

"Well, cause of-- for your... page." 

He was blushing now, a deep, blotchy red that started at his neck and crawled up his face. He'd obviously seen it, probably found it while trying to find your normal socials, to see how many followers you had, what you were "like". A weird violation that now felt like a little piece of shared knowledge.

You laughed.

"What page?" You were playing coy. 

You had a healthy following. Mostly men his age or older, who like a very feminine but very dominant girlfriend experience. The kind who want to be told what to do, and how to do it. Nothing crazy or anything truly extreme. But it paid your bills, paid for your car, for your fun.

And maybe, deep down, you were starting to realize Kurt might be your exact target demographic. Maybe that's why you were never truly mean to him, just a little pushy and a little mean in a way that thrilled him.

"I didn't go looking for it, I swear." He promised. "You shared a linktree for a little bit in your Instagram bio and I saw the one link just labeled with kiss emojis and my curiosity got the better of me."

"You were stalking me online, you creep." You tease, but your heart started beating faster, a little thrill of adrenaline and something else, something darker, shooting through you.

"No," he denied, a little too quickly. "I was catching up on your stories. To see... ya know, your life. If any of the kids from the block I used to babysit still hang out with you."

It was another incredibly bad lie, but also a sweet and pathetic thing to admit.

"Did you pay for anything? Or just look at the free previews?" 

He flinched. "I uh... I'm subscribed. To the premium tier."

He said it like it was a death sentence. His eyes were glued to your rug now.

This was a confession. A full-throated admission. He had seen you. All of you. He had heard your whispered instructions, the ones that had other men paying to listen. Kurt had seen it for thirty dollars a month.

"I didn't message you though! Or ask for anything custom. And my account name is different, so you wouldn't know it was me." He rattled the excuses out, like it would make this all better. He looked so terrified, and the fear was something to behold.

"Huh..." you said, tapping a finger against your lips.

"It's really just me supporting another creator. Like watching a friend's movie." He insisted, but his face was beet red.

"Mmm... nope." You popped the 'p'. He looked up, confusion warring with the shame on his face.

"But you--"

"I think," you cut him off, stepping forward again until you were toe to toe. You could feel the energy buzzing off him, a static charge of pure anxiety and desire. "I think you enjoy it."

You reached out and let a single finger trail down the middle of his chest. The cotton of his t-shirt was thin and worn. "I think you enjoy being told what to do."

You watched the way he swallowed hard, the bob of his throat like a nervous pulse point. He didn't deny it.

"It must be a relief," you continued, your voice dropping into the honeyed, confidential register of your other life, your other job. "Not having to think. Just... listen. Obey. Let someone else take control. Make all the decisions."

He was staring at you now, his pupils blown wide with a mix of fear and a terrifying, all-consuming hope. You saw him as your subscribers saw you: a goddess. A guide out of the wilderness of their own pathetic lives.

"You like the attention. And that it feels personalized." you went on. "The videos make you feel like I'm talking directly to you, don't they, Kurt?"He gave a minuscule, almost imperceptible nod. A tiny, broken "yeah" fell from his lips.

"You think I don't know who my subscribers are? Why they're there?" you smirked. "But you... you know me in real life. That means you've probably thought about it. This. A lot."

"T-this?"

"This. Being in my bedroom with me. Alone." Your finger stopped just above the waistband of his shorts. You could feel the heat of his skin. The muscles in his stomach clenched. "Do you like me, Kurt?"

It was a child's question, simple and yet it got to him. 

Did he like you?!

Yeah, of course he liked you. You were a living, breathing person who actually touched him and had just kissed him. You were the closest thing to genuine affection he had ever gotten from a girl. And he had a huge, pathetic, all consuming crush on you since he was fourteen.

"My content, I mean." You smiled, clarifying. "You like the me you pay thirty dollars a month to see."

The red was back, spreading across his face like a mark of shame.

"I just..." he stammered. "You're a professional. I was supporting a fellow creator. I like your... aesthetics. The way you talk is... calming."

A laugh escaped you, light and airy. "Calm? Kurt, I'm telling grown men what to do with their cocks and you find it calming?"

"You're really kind about it. You're never mean," he defended, with the earnestness of a true fan. "Not like other girls."

"They're cruel, aren't they? Other girls." You were treading on thin ice, and you knew it. This was the stuff that had made him like this in the first place. "They've been cruel to you."

"Always," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. The word hung heavy with years of accumulated hurts.

You tilted your head, your gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "What about me? Am I being cruel?"

You took a final step forward, eliminating the last sliver of space between you. Your bodies were flush now.

"I tease you a lot, Kurt. Make fun of you. About your videos, your lies."

"You're not..." he said, his breath hitching as you leaned in. "You're different."

"Yeah? How am I different?"

"You're... real," he choked out. "You're not making fun of me. You're just... telling me the truth."

"Truth is," you murmured, your lips now brushing against his earlobe. He shuddered violently. "I think you're a liar and a virgin and a total loser. I think you're so brain rotted from the need for internet fame you can barely have a real conversation. And I think your desperation is... pathetic."

You pulled back just enough to see his face. The words should have been a slap, a final, devastating rejection.

Instead, a single, fat tear escaped from the corner of his eye, tracing a path through the faint stubble on his cheek. He looked utterly wrecked. And utterly mesmerized.

Your thumb came up to swipe it away.

"But..." you whispered, your thumb lingering on his skin. "I also know why you say my content is calming. Because you're not the joke. For a little while, you're not the pathetic virgin in the corner. You're someone. You're my good boy. And you get to hear me say it."

You don't wait for him to speak, just continue. "You want attention so badly you'll take any kind you can get. Even from a cruel girl like me. Especially from me. Because at least I'm actually seeing you, right? Not the fake persona, not Kurt's World. Just you. Pathetic, lonely little Kurt."

You punctuated the sentence with a firm press of your hips against his. He let out a strangled noise, a mix of a whimper and a gasp.

Your other hand, which had been resting on his chest, slid slowly down. Over the worn fabric of his t-shirt, past the waistband of his shorts, and veering to hold his hip. You look up at him, at his perfect little pout and those big expressive eyes. It was annoying how attractive he could be if he'd actually try.

And then your hand found what it was looking for.

He was hard. Straining against the thin material of his basketball shorts.

"You don't have to answer that," you said, your tone knowing, a smirk playing on your lips. "I think I have my answer."

"Please..." The word was a ragged exhale. He wasn't even sure what he was begging for. For you to stop? For you to never stop?

You started to kiss him again as you palmed his length. This kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't a question. It was an order. It was claiming, your other hand tightening on the nape of his neck, holding him in place.

He wasn't kissing you back, not really. He was just trying to keep up, letting out desperate little sounds into your mouth. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides for a moment before one of them, shaking, came to rest on your waist. It was a hesitant touch, like he thought he might break you.

You pulled away from the kiss, your face betraying a little bit of the nerves you tried to push down.

"Do you not want this?"

"Are you kidding?" There was an obvious amount of desperation in his words. "I've... I've wanted this since I was like, fourteen."

"Then kiss me, Kurt. Don't be a baby about it."

"I'm... I could be bad at it." He confessed in a whisper.

"Practice makes perfect," you said, your lips still dangerously close to his.

He leaned in then, a clumsy collision of teeth and lips. It was every bit as awkward as you'd expected, but the sheer enthusiasm of it was going straight to your core.

"Hey," You say softly between harsh presses of his pretty lips. "It's okay. I got you."

And then you were guiding him, murmuring little instructions against his mouth.

"Slower... gentle. Yeah, just like that... Now use your tongue... no, not like a lizard, Kurt. Be soft."

He was a frustratingly fast learner.

It was dizzying. He was devouring you, but with a newfound finesse that made your head swim. He was no longer just a clumsy boy; he was a star pupil, eager to please, soaking up your every word, your every touch.

His hands still hovered more than touched your waist, but the kiss deepened, grew confident. He was taking your instruction, your control, and channeling it back into you in a wave of heat. You hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected to be the one whose breath hitched, the one whose knees felt a little weak. The one losing control.

A laugh, a genuine, breathless giggle, bubbled out of you as he pulled away to gasp for air.

"What?" His brows knitted, worried he was doing something wrong. "Was that bad?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, your smile wide and real. "You're just... a natural. It's cute."

You could feel the pre-cum spot seeping into the fabric of his shorts. Your thumb stroked it through the material. He jolted, a choked moan tearing from his throat.

"Is that for me?"

He could only nod, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a mask of agonized pleasure. "I, uh, I leak. A lot, when I..." he admitted, the words slurred with embarrassment. "When I'm really excited."

"God, you're cute," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. You were supposed to be the one in charge here. But seeing him, this powerful yearning in him that had been simmering for years, was intoxicating. He was so beautifully, achingly responsive.

"You think I'm cute? No one's ever called me cute before." He said it like he couldn't believe his ears. Girls liked jocks, guys who could fight or had a cool car. He was none of those things. He was the weird guy they paid to watch their kids.

You take yoru hand off of him, much to his dismay, and grab his hand, leading him to sit next to you on your bed.

"You're not ugly, Kurt." You roll your eyes, tucking some hair behind your ear. "You're weird and you're cringey, but you're not ugly."

The bed dipped with his weight, the cheap frame groaning slightly in protest. He sat stiffly, perched on the very edge, as if afraid to fully commit to the act of sitting on your bed.

"Okay." He breathed.

"Relax," you said, your voice a soft command. You pushed gently on his shoulder, and he went with it, falling back against your pillows, looking utterly lost and overwhelmed. "I won't bite. Not unless you ask nicely."

A shudder ran through him at that. "Are we going to do more kissing? Cause I'm... okay. With that."

"Is that all you want? A makeout session?" You challenged him, swinging a leg over to straddle him. You settled your weight on his hips, deliberately. The gasp this time was pure shock. You could feel every inch of him against you, separated only by two flimsy layers of cotton.

"Uh... n-no..." he stammered, his hands flying to your hips, as if he needed to anchor himself to reality.

"Well, I'm not going to fuck you today. Hate to burst your bubble."

"Oh." His face was a mixture of disappointment and... something else. A tiny flicker of relief. He was out of his depth, and you knew it.

"You're not ready for that." You said, not unkindly.

"What do you mean? I am ready. I'm a good learner." He insisted, that petulant tone back.

"I have no doubt you are. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful student." You lean down, your hair tickling his face as you whisper in his ear. "But I have standards. And besides..."

You shifted your hips in a slow, deliberate circle, grinding down against the hard line of him. He let out a choked moan, his grip on your waist tightening convulsively.

"Look at you. You're already about to bust in your shorts."

"I'm not!" He denied, but the blush that was creeping down his neck was a dead giveaway.

You just rolled your hips again, a little harder this time. A smirk played on your lips as you felt him twitch beneath you. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm over the raw edges of his humiliation. "I want you to. Let go for me, Kurt."

"Here? Now? Just from...?" He couldn't even finish the sentence. The idea was both humiliating and intensely thrilling.

You didn't answer with words, just the slow grind of your body against his. You leaned down to kiss him again, and this time it was different. There was no instruction, no guidance. It was pure, raw sensation. Your tongue met his in a dance of dominance and submission, and he was letting you lead.

His hands were no longer just resting on your hips; they were digging in, holding on for dear life.

"I like that you're leaking for me," you whispered against his lips. "It's like... you're so worked up you can't control it. You can't hide it. Your body is telling the truth, even when your mouth is trying to lie."

He let out a whine at that, a high, desperate sound. He was close, you could feel it in the way he tensed, the way his breathing hitched and stuttered.

"So many guys want to act all cool and in control," you continued, your movements becoming more deliberate. You could feel your own arousal building, a warmth spreading through your veins. "But you... you don't have to pretend with me, do you? You can just... let go."

He shook his head frantically, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Look at me," you commanded, your voice low and firm. His eyes flew open, wide and dark and pleading. "I want to see you when you lose it for me. I want to see your face."

That was all it took.

With a strangled cry, his back arched off the bed, pressing him harder against you. A shudder wracked his body, and you felt the warm dampness spread through the fabric of his shorts, soaking through to your own. It was a lot, just like he'd said. Just like you'd hoped.

You kept moving, a slow, steady rocking, drawing out his pleasure until he was limp beneath you, panting and gasping, a wrecked, blissed-out mess.

You climbed off him, the sticky, wet fabric of his shorts clinging to him. He looked down at the mess he'd made, a fresh wave of color flooding his face.

"Oh my god," he mumbled, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so sorry. That's so gross. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm into it."

"You are?" He sounded genuinely, completely flabbergasted. Like you'd just told him you had a third arm.

"I am." You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. "You came in your shorts from a little grinding and some kissing. Maybe I'm a weirdo too, but I think it's really fucking hot."

A slow smile spread across his face, a hesitant, shy thing that reached his eyes for the first time all day. He was seeing you, really seeing you, and what he saw was someone who wasn't just tolerating him, or making fun of him, but who was genuinely... attracted to him.

"You cum a lot. I'll have to keep that in mind for next time," you mused out loud.

His eyes went wide at the 'next time', the idea of this not being a one-off, of there being more, sending a fresh jolt of excitement through him. 

"Can... can I...?" He started, then faltered, looking down at his soiled shorts, then back at you. A silent, hopeful question passed between you.

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p' again. "I told you, you're not ready."

"But I wanna make you feel good..."

You contemplated him, while your brain started to formulate a tantalizing thought.

"This sponsorship," you said, changing gears so smoothly it made him dizzy. "The sex toy one. Let's see it."

"What?" He blinked, looking like he'd been woken from a very specific, very detailed dream.

"Show me the products."

It was matter-of-fact. A command. Not a request.

"Oh... right now? I... they're at my house."

"Go get them," you ordered. "Bring them here. I can tell you if they're any good. I'm well versed, which you clearly know."

It was a test. He knew it was a test. He looked from you to your open bedroom door, back to you, like a kid considering bolting from the principal's office.

"Right now?" he squeaked.

"You have a problem with that?" You arched a brow. "I'm helping you. With your brand. I'm an expert consultant."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He scrambled off the bed, a clumsy, awkward flurry of limbs. He nearly tripped over your rug, his shorts sticking uncomfortably to him as he half-ran, half-waddled out of your room.

You flop back on your pillows, looking up at the ceiling and start to contemplate your choices today. This was probably a bad one. But also... maybe it was the best one you've had in a while.

He was back in under three minutes, breathless and holding a sleek, black, discreet-looking box. His hair was an even more glorious disaster than before.

He stood by your bed, holding a big black cardboard box. The logo on the side, a stylized assortment of fruit, was cheap and gaudy. Likely AI generated.

He held it out to you like a treasure chest.

"This is it," he said, breathless.

"Jesus, how much did you buy?" You say, taking the box from him.

He runs a hand through his hair and catches his breath. "Uh, like three things? They gave me a discount."

"Mhm. I'm sure." You open the flaps, pushing aside a wave of cheap packing peanuts.

Inside was exactly what you expected. Three toys, sealed in crinkly, heatsealed plastic. A hot pink wand vibrator, a modest, bullet-shaped silver one, and... the main event. A curved device in an elegant almost 'U' shape, made of a milky, pink silicone. It had a little display at the base with a single light. One end was for insertion, the other had makeshift lips with a small tongue between them.

You lifted it out. The heft and the texture felt surprisingly good. Professional. Not a scam.

"This one's the new model," Kurt said quickly, pointing.

Your eyes flicked up to his. "Sit."

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching as you turned the toy over in your hands. You found the small power button on the base.

The little display lit up. A single, pulsing blue light appeared.

"Huh," you said, impressed before turning it off again. "It's quiet."

"It's app-controlled, too," he added, like he was proud of the tech specs. "And, um... I got them all in pink. The ones they had in pink, that is. Like the ones y-you use in your videos. So... you can add them to your collection, if they're good. After my review. If you want."

"Did you think about me when you bought these, Kurt?" You set the box aside on the bed, studying him. Your thumb traced the smooth curve of the toy in your hand. "Sitting alone in your room, picking the color so it would be just like mine?" 

His blush was immediate. "It's... uh... it's a popular color. For this kind of demographic. The research—"

"Stop," you cut him off, your voice soft but firm. "Don't research. Don't use your internet brain. Just talk."

He froze. All the canned excuses, the rehearsed lines he'd probably practiced in the mirror, evaporated. He was just Kurt. Sitting on your bed. In shorts wet with his own cum.

"Yes." The word was a whisper. A surrender. "I thought of you."

"This thing," you said, tapping the toy in your hand, going back to the conversation. "Is surprisingly good quality."

"It's a strange shape for a d-dildo." Kurt commented, sounding shaky.

"It's not really a 'dildo' per se. See this part?" You pointed to the longer, curved end. "This goes inside. Feels good on its own or with the vibrate function. But the real magic..." you gestured to the 'lips' and the small nub of a 'tongue'. "...is here. When you turn it on, the insertable length pulses. And the tongue thing does like, a flicking motion."

He was leaning in, his academic curiosity warring with his profound embarrassment.

You turned it on again.

The small light glowed blue. The toy started a slow, rhythmic pulsing, a gentle, almost internal thumping. Then, with a press of the second button, the little pink tongue began to move. It wasn't a powerful vibration, but a focused, surprisingly fast and delicate flicking, back and forth. You clicked it again to stop it.

Kurt's eyes went wide. He stared, completely mesmerized. "Whoa."

"It's a clit sucker," you said simply, watching his face. "Simulates oral." The term, so clinical and direct, seemed to hit him like a physical blow. He went from curious to overwhelmed in a heartbeat.

"You said this was app controlled?"

He nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. He was about to open it, then hesitated. "Um, it's connected via bluetooth, you both have to have the app..."

He trailed off, looking at you, then at his phone, then at the toy, the implication hanging heavy and electric in the air. The idea of you  being connected to him through a device designed for pleasure, was almost too much for him to process. But he didn't move. He didn't suggest any alternative. He just waited, trapped between terror and desperate, pulsing need.

"Aren't you going to show me?" You purred, leaning in close again.

"Right," he cleared his throat, finally fumbling with his phone and getting the app open. You look at it, taking your phone out and typing in the app name, pressing download.

He selected "Partner Control". A unique six-digit code appeared on his screen. "It's, uh... it'll ask for a code. To link the devices."

He read the numbers aloud, his voice thin and reedy. You typed them into your phone. A second later, the toy in your hand pulsed with a confirmation.

Your phone showed a simple interface. A slider for intensity of the internal pulse. A series of patterned buttons for the toy functions. flick, flutter, thrust, and more.

"Why did you want to... link them?" He thought you would've made him demo the settings by holding it.

"Hmm?" You looked up from your screen, a dangerous glint in your eye. "How else am I going to properly test the functionality of the long-distance feature?"

He stared at you then, before you explained.

"You said you wanted to touch me. But I have a live show planned tonight. My subscribers would be disappointed if I cancelled." You say, testing him. Pushing him right to the very edge to see what he'd do.

He looked utterly crestfallen. Like you'd just told him Christmas was cancelled. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course. Your fans are... important. Brand consistency is, like, really important."

"Mhm. But what if you could touch me and still watch the show from the privacy of your own bedroom..." you trailed off, reaching over and tapping the 'flick' button on his phone.

The toy in your hand buzzed to life, the tiny silicone tongue beginning its frantic dance. You didn't flinch. You didn't even look down. You just watched his face. The way his breath hitched, the way he stared at your hands with wide, dawning comprehension.

He didn't have to be in the room to touch you.

Hundreds of people would see you get off.

But he would be the one who was actually doing it.

"That could... that could work," he cleared his throat again, trying to sound calm and collected and failing miserably. "From a content-collaboration standpoint. Very innovative."

You laughed, a soft, husky sound. "Innovative. I like that. Here's the deal, Kurt."

You set the toy down on your comforter, between you. It was a strange, futuristic object in the soft, girlish landscape of your room.

"You're going to go home and film a different video for today. And then when my live show starts, you'll tune in. But instead of watching, you'll be working." You held up your own phone, showing him the screen. "And I expect you to do a good job. This is for your sponsor, after all. We're providing valuable, user-tested feedback."

"A-alright," he nodded, trying to process this dizzying new reality. "I can do that. I can be... thorough. With the testing."

"Good boy," you said, the phrase hitting him like a physical jolt. You saw the way it resonated, the way a part of him lit up from the inside. "Don't be late. I start at eight. Don't make me wait."

"I won't," he promised, scrambling to stand. He looked at the box on the bed, then back at you.

"Good. Go home and change, your shorts are disgusting." You say.

He looked down, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him as he was reminded of the sticky, cooling mess in his shorts. He gave a jerky nod and half-ran out of the room, not daring to look back.

The silence he left behind was deafening. You lay back on your bed and you couldn't help but smile. This was going to be fun.

You picked up the small wand vibrator that was also in the box, and flicked it on, testing it against your own inner thigh. It was decent, but the quality was obviously cheaper, not like the magic wand your own fans had gifted you.

But that didn't stop you from pressing it against the fabric of your shorts and picturing Kurt, hunched over at his desk, picking out pink toys on a sketchy website because he was thinking about you.

Many of your nights have been spent at this small place serving drinks to the same people, engaging in the same conversation, going through the same thing. Without a fail you’ve lived in this cycle of mundaneness and it drive you insane.

Nothing ever happened to you and when it did, it was never for the better. That’s what you’ve always thought anyway.

“Any Macallan? I'll have a glass,” You stared at the stranger with a blank expression, he met you with an unwavering gaze looking every bit out of place here as you felt.

He’s asking if you carry an expensive bottle of Bourbon that a place like this could not afford keeping in stock. If you did, no one here would want to pay the price of a glass. Compared to the regulars around the bar he clearly stood out to everyone. The college guys who lived a couple blocks down looked at him just as strangely as the two office workers down the bar did.

“We’ve got Buchannan’s,” You said plainly, taking his attention away from the aged jukebox in the corner that now had a big screen attached to it. It was your typical bar with its dark countertops, pool tables, darts, et cetera. It was the first place he could find on this side of town—clearly not a place of luxury.

“I’ll take it,” He tried to sound happy about it, biting down at his bottom lip as his phone screen lit up with notifications. He had nearly a dozen texts from close friends asking him what his plans were for tonight but he didn’t want to talk right now and they’d want to know why.

Soon you had his glass of whiskey in front of him and he was opening a tab while you helped others. You didn’t think much about the man aside from how attractive he looked. Many stragglers found their way here but after one night they’d return to wherever they’re from and never look back.

“You drink that expensive whiskey because you like it or because you can afford it?”

An older man spoke up from across the bar, looking at the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He’s one of those guys that gets a few drinks in him and either wants to spark conversation or a fight. Part of you paid attention to the conversation, part of you looked at the line of messages on your phone.

“I’m sorry?” The guy from earlier asked seemingly unimpressed by the attempt to get to him. The older man was dressed in a dirty t-shirt and flannel while he wore some expensive suit like he’d just gotten off work.

“Or is it to impress?”

“Impress who?” A light scoff left his lips, looking around the bar, eyes hesitating on you for a moment. Aside from you there were a few others who might catch his eye but not enough for him to point out or feel the need to impress.

You weren’t even looking at anyone or him for that matter, your attention was solely on your cell phone and by the look on your face, whatever was on there was more important. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your brows began to furrow with concentration as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

unknown: can we talk when ur done working?

unknown: it’s about us

What?

“Y/n maybe? I doubt any of us are your type—“

What? You looked up immediately at the call of your name, ready to make someone another cocktail or close someone’s tab. Instead you were called in the middle of a conversation that you wanted no part of.

“Another beer?” You tried to cut in and shut the regular up but it was a useless attempt because everyone around the bar was already staring at you—including the stranger. How did you miss whatever they were talking about? You were too focused on the texts from a certain someone that you had lost attention to people at the bar.

“What is your name anyway? I’ve never seen you here before,” The customer told him, ignoring you and trying to push for more talk. You just sighed and leaned back thinking back to your phone.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He said in his usual confident manner, gaze flickering to you for a moment but you were distracted once more, this time typing rapidly. You were pretty, too pretty to be serving these guys on a Tuesday night.

Another man appeared from behind a door holding more bottles of liquor. He looked indifferent to whatever was going on out here but when he looked at you, you said something. Jungkook was more interested to hear what that was than whatever the people around him had to say.

The two of you talked for a while and he distracted himself with his phone.

hobi: doubles tomorrow with jimin and jin? 🎾

jungkook: I couldn’t think of anything worse

jimin: watch urself

jin: and where’d u run off to tonight

Your coworker, Yoongi, looked at you with concerned eyes. You’ve known each other long enough to know when somethings wrong and Yoongi was able to tell so fast, “If you need to make a call just go, I’ll take over for now.”

His friend asked the question he’s been trying to ask himself all night. How’d he find himself here on the other side of the city with the only people to entertain him being drunks and… you?

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook found himself asking now that the man from earlier had moved on to someone else to bother. You looked ready to run out but stopped to look at him. Yoongi was giving you time to sort whatever problem you had at the moment but now a customer was talking to you.

You shrugged, “Yeah but he’s harmless, a little annoying but funny.”

jungkook: some bar but I’m leaving soon

Jungkook looked at you up close now. You wore all black, somewhere between casual but dressed up enough. From what he can tell you’re pretty, like an effortless kind of pretty. You barely cared to engage with him, completely unaware of how he looked you over.

“Can I close my tab?” He asked as he fished for his wallet.

“No problem, remind me the name,” Yoongi came up from behind you, hand on your back urging you to go and he’ll take care of it. Jungkook looked at him with disinterest as you ran off in a hurry and sighed, “Jeon Jungkook.”

jungkook: it’s boring

The place he called home was about thirty minutes away from the bar he visited a few nights ago. He lived on the upper side of the city where buildings towered sky high and rent was at high rates, lavish nightlife and lounge rooms he could spend all night in drinking with his friends. That’s why it baffled him to sit somewhere like the place he’d gone to and feel so comfortable. It felt secretive, a mutual understanding of where one goes when they want to be alone and have a drink—no matter how bad it is. He wouldn’t have been able to do that around here without running into someone.

“Have you decided who your date will be?”

No, he had not. In fact it was the last thing on his mind and something Jungkook would prefer to fully ignore. It’s all he’s heard about for the past month and he doesn’t think he can go any longer talking about it. A date to a charity event hosted by his parents was too overwhelming of a task. They have to be polite, well maintenanced, proper, et cetera. He’s sure he can call up whatever woman he’d taken on a date these last couple of years but not a single one did he find… good enough? Terrible phrasing but the truth.

“Have you?” Jungkook asked one of his close friends, Hoseok, as the two sat in his office wasting time before they could be done for the day. His office sat on one of the top floors of a national banking center just a few minutes from where he resided. He sat behind his black oak wood desk spinning a pointed leather opener against his notepad creating a small dent in it.

“Obviously,” Hobi rolled his eyes playfully, making Jungkook look at him seriously. “Will she be as embarrassing as the one last time?”

“I hope not, last year’s date was a total mess. I couldn't look your parents in the eye for three months,” He said back, sitting down on the black leather daybed just a few feet away from Jungkook. The office was big with tall bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows overlooking skyscrapers and the Han River not too far behind. There was a desktop with two monitors along with a laptop and television, a closet and storage room—even a few dumbbells and a treadmill in the corner. “Do you know how hard that is when your father’s the CFO of the company I work for?!”

“I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of that,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle knowing firsthand how his dad can be when he feels disrespected—especially in front of the press while hosting an important, annual event.

“I’ve got dinner with the girl tonight, she’s been telling me about this friend who’s been dying to meet you,” Hoseok said with raised brows, “She’s pretty hot.”

“Who? The girl or her friend?” Jungkook asked, typing away on his desktop, searching for the bar he’d visited the other night. There was very little overview about the place, but he didn’t expect much anyway. It looked like it brought a decent amount of business to get by but nothing more than that. You must’ve been local to the area or why would you be working there? Hell, for how little you seemed interested in him, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What was it that got his attention?

“Both,” Hoseok said in response.

Jungkook let out a small sigh watching the time pass by, “I’ll think about it.”

It was unlikely he ever would, he thought, attempting to focus back on his friend and who he was talking about. As arrogant as it might sound, there’s always someone dying to meet him. Usually it never works out and instead it’s used as a bragging right that they were taken out by him. He would like to meet someone organically, nothing forced or ingenuine. Someone he runs into and charms them without his reputation involved. How could he meet someone like that?

There was moisture lingering in the air as you left the small cafe you worked at during the week. It was midday and you wouldn’t have to be at work again till later tonight so the only thing on your mind was a good sleep.

You barely made it onto the bus when your phone began to ring and you put on your headphones to answer, “Hello?”

“Great, you’re alive. I was getting paranoid after the third ring,” Your friend said immediately once the call connected, “Are you off!”

“Yeah, until tonight,” You told her, staring out the foggy window of the overcrowded midday bus.

“Is Taehyung home? You want to come to mine instead?” Yeaun asked, sounding concerned but you just shook your head no even if she couldn’t see it.

“It’s alright, he’s not home anyway,” You said to her with a sigh, “I live there too and if he’s going to make a problem or it then maybe he should move out sooner.”

Yeaun was quiet for a moment, not sure if you were being serious or not. Or course it’s not the first time you and your ‘boyfriend—ex boyfriend—boyfriend’ break it off suddenly but this is different. You live with each other now and have for a few months. Why would Taehyung ask you to find a place with him if he was going to end it a few months into the lease? What an asshole.

“Alright, well I’ll talk to you later, maybe I’ll stop by the bar and catch up,” Yeaun finally said to which you mumbled back your response and ended the call.

You arrived at an empty apartment with a stack of blankets and pillows on the couch and a large bed with one person claiming it now. You tucked yourself into bed hoping that you ex boyfriend won’t be home when you wake up.

By the time the sun set and the only plan Jungkook had was to go home, he began to think about the place he visited a few days ago. There was nothing special about it but it was somewhat comforting—even with some of the elderly regulars getting on his case, he kind of liked it. It was amusing and harmless banter that he could put up with for some time alone. When he was off and his friend asked him to go out for dinner, Jungkook turned him down to drive across town on his own.

Like last time, the same people sat around the bar but a few new faces took up some of the tables scattered around. You stood behind the counter indulging in conversation with the bartender next to you and Jungkook found himself sitting at the corner of the bar top and away from the loudness.

“I see they didn’t scare you off,” You said once you spotted him alone. There’s not many new people coming by, especially ones that looked like him so he was easy to remember. He looked at you with rounded, curious eyes and shook his head, “Not yet.”

You asked if he wanted the same as last time and once he said yes, you were turning your back to him. He’s going to be honest… he couldn’t help but stare a little longer this time. You wore a short black skirt with dark stockings and a fitted tee making you seem casual and comfortable but at the same time he thought you were pretty. He couldn’t tell if you were into makeup or not but he assumed you’d be attractive either way. Last time you seemed glum, but tonight you were smiling.

“Am I that forgettable?” Jungkook asked when you made your way back to his side, he nodded toward the old man who bothered him last time and how he barely acknowledged him today. He wonders if he asked because he cared or because he wanted to have something to say. There was nothing better going on and unlike before, tonight he's up for talking—to you.

“No, he’s just a Drunk,” You whispered jokingly, moving just a little closer his way. To be honest, he nearly forgot all about you. The two of you had such a small interaction days ago that his life just got in the way. It felt meaningless and like it was never going to happen again but here he is, finding comfort at the little bar you worked at. He couldn’t help but be entertained by it.

“I asked my boss about the bottle you wanted last time and he said we can’t afford it for just one person, so you’re out of luck if you start stopping by more often,” You said casually, looking indifferent but he caught a glimmer of curiosity in your gaze.

“I’ll have to bring you some then,” Jungkook sat up straighter, “Give you a little taste.”

“I’m not into whiskey,” You gave him a small shrug, “I prefer the drinks where I can’t taste the alcohol.”

That made him laugh a little harder than he needed to, “Y/n, right? I think I remember hearing one of them say it.”

Your only form of response was a nod of your head but he didn’t mind the lack of enthusiasm. There’s something about the way you seem reserved but not scared to talk back to him sort of draws him in. You looked at each other with the same intensity and he wanted to see how long it could go.

“Y/n.”

You rushed away from him finding whoever needed help and he thought of what to say.

“So how many nights do you spend working here?” He asked once you came by him again. So far both nights he stumbled into this place you’ve been behind the counter with a blasè look to your eyes. It was a shame considering how pretty you were for you to be stuck behind a counter getting stressed over who knows what.

“Practically all of them,” You sighed leaning against the counter.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t care for meaningless conversation ike this. It was such a waste of time and he always found himself struggling for what to say.

“So what happened the other night?” He blurted out before he could think clearly. He blames it on the whiskey for sounding so blunt as it rushed to his face. You couldn’t read him as easily as he thought and tried to figure out what he was asking about. The other night?

Oh.

“Nothing too concerning,” You brushed off your breakup with Taehyung hoping he knew nothing. The situation with Taehyung was not someone you wanted everyone to know about—especially not a stranger. It was embarrassing to admit you were still living with your cheating on and off ex boyfriend because it’s better than sleeping outside.

“And here I was hoping for a story time,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, checking his phone and the dozen messages and missed calls. Like earlier, you left him to help someone else and this time instead of him trying to find something to say it was you.

“If you start visiting more regularly maybe I’ll fill you in,” You said half-heartedly.

You’ve always thought—hoped—that home is where the heart would be. You should live in a place that doesn’t give you anxiety or depression. Living in this apartment with your ex boyfriends gives you both. When he was home you’d avoid leaving your bedroom at all and when he’s gone you’re worried about the time he’d get home.

You weren’t scared of him, but you hated him.

The two of you have broken up so many times at this point it’s embarrassing to admit how he has you now. After cheating on you and treating you like shit, you still moved in with him just those few months ago and now you’re paying for it.

“Are you going to work?” He asked curiously as you came out of your now solo bedroom. Taehyung was gentleman enough to sleep on the couch but apparently not enough to keep it in his pants.

“No,” You answered shortly as you slipped your shoes on. For some reason he thinks you’ll forgive him soon. He’s been trying to talk to you about it since the morning after he bothered you at work but you weren’t listening. How could he do something on impulse and expect you to let it go?

Are all men this stupid? Most? Oh, definitely, but surely not all? Who would want to be on good terms with a cheating ex so recent after the breakup?

“What are you gonna do then?”

What he really meant was, “Where were you going and who with?”

“Nothing,” you closed the door after yourself, choosing to shut him out rather than tell him anything. He didn’t need to know your whereabouts. For once you weren’t going to be at work and although you didn’t have big plans for your free night, you weren’t going to tell him or worse—spend it locked up in your room that still had his belongings.

You settled into place at your best friend’s place, filling her in on what’s been exciting or lack thereof.

“Not to feed the delusions but what if he’s stopping to see you?” Yeaun asked as you sat on her couch watching her look through her vinyls for something to play. After a while of telling her boringly endless tales of your life you came to the topic you were currently discussing.

Jeon Jungkook—the irregular-regular who’s begun to frequent the bar lately. Jungkook has been coming by for a few weeks now and although they’re always small interactions with him they leave an impression on you. He’s not like the usual guys who go there for a drink—or anything like the ones when you go out with your friends. Every now and then you wonder if he’s catching a flirty tone with you or not but then you think harder and tell yourself; not likely.

It’s too unbelievable,” You rejected the idea immediately even if it hurt you to do so, you had to be realistic, “He probably has a girlfriend or wife or someone, I don’t know.”

Call it a crush, whatever, nothing would ever come of it and you told your friends the same, “Either way I’m done with men, they’re all shitty.”

Yeaun shrugged, no longer pushing the idea of Jungkook. You haven’t told her anything that made it seem like Jungkook had any interest in you at all so really she was just wishfully thinking. You know very little about the man aside from what the two of you have gone over but it’s enough for you to know it would never happen.

You’re not crazy enough to believe otherwise.

Jungkook spent most of his day dreading for him to leave work and get ready for a dinner plan that was arranged for him. In all honesty, he practically disassociated himself from it the second he heard the tone the woman spoke in. Why did he let Hoseok talk him into doing this?

For nearly an hour he’s had to hear this woman compliment him on everything under the sun. Sure he was flattered but so? Did he really need to hear about himself from someone else? She didn’t seem like a bad girl but she knew too much about him that he never told her. She was too in his space and not understanding to slow down.

“I’m happy our schedules aligned to be able to meet like this,” She said as she picked at her salad, “I know you’re very busy.”

“I’m pleased too,” Jungkook raised his glass of wine to his lips, searching around the restaurant for a clock. Jiwon was a sweet girl but he wasn’t interested for some reason. She was attractive like Hoseok said but he’s not sure what is but there’s something that seems to draw him away from her.

By the time the bill came and she pretended to look through her mini bag for her wallet, Jungkook was ready to call it a night. He never expected someone with him to pay but something just drew him back… seriously what was it? She waited outside with him in hopes of knowing if their night would continue from here or not but Jungkook couldn’t wait to be done. He probably seemed rude with how he brushed her off and directed her into a cab, paying her fare with a lie that he’d see her again, but he couldn’t think of that right now.

It was taxing to meet new people and try to feel anything romantic toward them. Jimin is looking out for Jungkook and he’s well aware of that but Jungkook does not want something forced. He’s not asking for birds chirping and bells chiming but give him something that’ll make him feel things.

When he was alone in his car he found himself taking a familiar route in the opposite direction of his house. He’d left his date with Jiwon and for some reason was heading toward the bar he’s been going to lately. It took him a while to realize where he was going and about a block away he stopped to think.

What was he doing here? He could find any shitty bar where he knew his friends would never go and be just fine. He could be out with his friends or maybe getting to know Jiwon more in hopes of something blooming but instead he was going out alone. It was a bad idea to make this a regular thing. People he knows will begin to question where he goes and invade his privacy, he just knows it.

With a deep sigh he turned the engine off looking up at the brightly lit building in front of him. It was a small convenience store and deciding to not make his drive all the way over here pointless, he went inside.

He is starting to believe the universe in playing a trick on him. Whenever he’s gone to the bar you’ve been working at and tonight he decided not to go… bummed that he wouldn’t see you but clearly the universe had plans that couldn’t get changed. Instead of serving two drinks to customers, you’re walking down a refrigerated section of cheap flower bouquets. It’s like he was going to run into you tonight one way or the other. Just because he wasn’t going the bar after all didn’t mean he could escape you as easily. It was crazy.

You hadn’t yet spotted him as you opened the door to grab one of the cheapest bouquet of orchids you could find. It wasn’t until you were ready to walk back down that you saw him looking a little too interested in the small pints of ice cream. There were two options you could do, One: pretend you don’t know him and head to the counter or Two: acknowledge him? What if he was the kind of person that didn’t like being approached? It would be embarrassing for you.

“No work tonight?”

You stopped in your tracks, ready to walk past him when he spoke up. You looked around shyly, “Not tonight, Is that where you’re headed now?”

“Originally yeah, but good thing I changed my mind. You wouldn’t have been there,” Jungkook said, glancing down at the small shopping basket in your hands. He missed the way your face flushed at the comment, unsure if he meant it flirtatiously or not.

You had the small orchids, a couple ramens and drinks in the basket that made him smile just a little, “I’m assuming you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t,” You say lightly, a smile playing on your face when you saw his, and glanced down at your basket with embarrassment. All Jungkook had in his hand was a single bottle of wine that he grabbed so he wouldn’t look strange approaching you, “Do you live around here too?”

“No, I uh, I’m kind of far actually,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “But, I was doing some work over here.”

His face tensed at the way he must have sounded lying to you. It wouldn’t have been a good look for him if he said he went on a blind date with someone his best friend set him up with but raced here right after. It feels like the conversation shouldn’t end yet but he doesn’t know how to make it go on. Usually he’s able to tell what he should say to get someone’s attention on him for longer but he doesn’t know with you.

After a while, you began walking toward the register with Jungkook not far behind and you tried to act normal when you set your things down to be checked out.

Please, don’t decline, you thought as you tapped your card to pay. When you were done and hesitating to leave or not, Jungkook spoke up again, “When do you work next?”

“Why? So you’ll visit me?” You asked him with a little more enthusiasm. Maybe you were overthinking it but was there a chance that he wanted to talk to you too? It felt like he asked you something so you wouldn’t rush off before he was done paying.

He smiled, pleased to have you respond the way he wanted and he grabbed his things off the counter and turned to walk with you. You held your bag in one hand and your cellphone and wallet in the other and it was hard to miss the way your screen lit up with a phone call. You ignored the ringing but Jungkook was distracted now, “Do you need to take that?”

He held the door open for you wondering if it was your boyfriend or not and if he was just wasting his time. You shook your head, “It's no one important.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Jungkook found himself asking, too impatient to beat around the bush any longer, “Or would you like to see me this weekend—or when you’re free— over drinks?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, staring up at the handsome man in front of you with a baited breath. Jungkook was attractive, very attractive but did you need to be seeing anyone right now? Sure, it’s been a couple weeks since you and Taehyung fell off but you still live together. If he found out he would lose his shit… but at the same time…

Jungkook was intriguing and charming and so attractive you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything else.

“I’m free this upcoming Sunday.”

Before you split ways, you made sure to exchange information and you were practically rushing to tell your best friend.

jungkook: next time we should have stuck around and talked longer

When Sunday evening rolled in, Jungkook wore one of his black Prada shirts and black jeans. He tried dressing casual but this was as casual as he could go for seeing you out on a night like this.

“I could meet you halfway,” Jungkook insisted on the phone as he stood outside your building. It was a rundown apartment complex just like all the others in the area and even he felt unsafe, he can’t imagine how you feel every night. Okay, maybe he’s not used to anything outside of the private, gated community he grew up with.

“It’s fine, I’ll be down in a second,” You practically whispered as you hurried to hang up. With a final spritz of perfume, you left your bedroom as quiet as possible but it was no use. Taehyung sat there watching you.

“I’ll be back late so don’t wait up,” You practically grumbled as you went to put on your heels.

“Since when do you dress like that?” Taehyung asked with a slight scoff. Unlike your usual attire of baggy pants, sweaters, tees and the occasional skirt, tonight you wore a short, satin pink dress with heels to match. You looked pretty and it annoyed him because he knew why.

“Since I stopped being with you,” You told him, fishing for your key before closing the door on him like last time.

It took a lot of convincing on Jungkook’s part to let you let him pick you up and you had many reasons why. One, you didn’t want him to run into Taehyung or feel awkward. Two, you didn’t want him to drive all the way here if you’d most likely be in the inner city which was on the other side of town. And three, you were slightly embarrassed at your housing complex. You’ve seen Jungkook’s dress attire and the expensive watches, chains, drinking preferences he wears. He’s got money while you’ve got two jobs still struggling to pay your half of the rent on top of all the debt tied to your name.

“Well don’t you look stunning,” Jungkook said with a nervous chuckle as you approached him, eyeing his all black Porsche and how perfectly it matched him. The silk of your dress felt soft against his touch when you hugged him politely in greeting. You were slightly flushed by his comment and let him lead you to the passenger’s side.

“Were you waiting long?” You asked when he got into the driver’s side, looking you over one more time before starting the car.

“A l-little,” Jungkook couldn’t help but feel flustered as you turned your body enough to look at him better. Your dress rode up on your thigh and he tried to focus on the road, “But it’s my fault for being impatient. Next time I’ll give you all the time in the world if I get to see this pretty view.”

To be clear Jungkook has always thought you were attractive but this was different. This wasn’t just him finding the bartender serving him drinks hot or the woman at the convenience store pretty. This was you dressing up for him in a pretty color while sitting pretty in his car and looking at him with your pretty eyes.

“Next time?” You laughed softly, sitting upright and trying not to seem affected, “Don’t make promises just yet. You might not be able to keep them.”

“I always keep my promises,” Jungkook said, diving over the small bridge that separated your neighborhood from the rest of the city.

You went quiet after that, looking out the window curiously. Usually you stick to your area, the bus fare to go shopping downtown or eat at a fancy restaurant wouldn’t be too bad but the time. On the bus it would be at least an hour long drive full of stops everywhere in between and you didn’t have the time to make it a round day trip. It was nice seeing all the city lights when most of your neighborhood is dark aside from the occasional street lamp.

You were pleasantly surprised when he pulled the car in front of a large building and a valet came to the doors, directing you both out of the car. Jungkook instructed the valet on something you didn’t care to hear as you looked around. It was obviously a hotel but with a large restaurant inside.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at your side with a soft hand on your waist and you let him lead you in.

You felt oddly out of place when you looked around at everyone else but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. He was significantly underdressed but that didn’t stop him from pulling attention without meaning to and it made you slightly more comfortable. The restaurant sat on the top floor of a large hotel with a beautiful view of the city and amazing interior as well, “Do you like this place?”

“I have never been here before,” Jungkook admitted as he helped pull your chair, “I’ll give you an answer after dinner.”

“You’ll decide once you’ve gotten food?” You asked playfully but he just shook his head. “I’ll decide when you do.”

You weren’t sure how to respond but something about the way he looked at you told you he was being serious. Has he always been this forward? You didn’t think so. Usually he asked you a couple things and that was it. Or maybe you didn’t think there was any more to it. Sure, sometimes you’d catch him looking from across the bar but you always assumed he just needed something. When he asked you out the other night you assumed it was on a whim but now you’re not so sure.

It was far from a problem but you weren’t sure how to take it. Something tells you Jungkook comes from a different world than you do. When the server came you ordered a drink and tried to focus on the menu. All the prices were high and you couldn’t find anything in your normal price range. There were a lot of good options but what were you willing to choose?

“So, when you think of an ideal type, who comes to mind?” Jungkook asked, picking around his plate. The two of you had talked about practically everything you could on a first date. He was a couple years older than you, worked at a banking firm, lived in the upper east luxury apartments, studied abroad, et cetera. He learned that you have two jobs and dropped out of school because it was too expensive and honestly…you thought you lost him then. You thought he was unimpressed and no longer interested judging by the look of disappointment in his face but then he asks you what your ideal type is?

“Hm, I don’t know,” You started awkwardly, feeling his gaze shift toward you and looked you in the eye waiting, “Well I would want someone honest… and loyal bu—“

You stopped yourself feeling embarrassment edge on, it was ironic of you to say that was your type when clearly the past men you’ve been with have been anything but. A light scoff left your lips as you laughed a little, “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? Shouldn’t that be expected?” Jungkook asked. He was very loyal to his partners in the past but those relationships have long since been over and hold no meaning to him. He didn’t even think he wanted to date—considering how bored he was when the Jimin set him on—but here he was having the time of life trying to get to know you.

“Alright, well what about you? Maybe I need an example answer,” You joked, trying to shift the attention off you but Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“I want someone I can relax around?” Jungkook was honest, “Someone I want to introduce to people close to me and someone that makes me think about them all day.”

“How do you decide who that person is?” You asked, moving your hair off your shoulder as you ate.

Jungkook smiled, “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

You talked about random things here and there. He explained what exactly he did at the banking firm and you told him your aspirations to be a hair stylist when you were younger. He asked why you never pursued it and you told him financial issues which made the conversation slightly awkward but it never ended.

By the time you finished and Jungkook footed the rather expensive bill, you rode down the elevator peacefully and walked out the building. Once the valet brought the car back around, you were less nervous to be riding in it than earlier and sat comfortably.

“I hope you don’t mind but I got you something,” Jungkook said once he was seated, “I wanted to wait till after dinner and then I forgot it.”

He reached under his seat where he had placed a small box earlier. You sat beside him watching him feel around for it, “Oh you didn’t have to—“

“I wanted to,” Jungkook said, placing a small box on your lap as he drove onto the street, “Think of it as a thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“It’s nice but… isn’t it too much?” You swallowed dryly, looking at the simple Cartier bracelet, scared to even touch it, “I don't know what to say, thank you?”

“Don’t think about it, I just… I liked it and I wanted to gift you something,” Jungkook said honestly. He liked giving gifts and yesterday he was shopping for a new watch with Jin and he ended up finding the bracelet instead. For some reason he thought of you and before he could stop himself he bought it. It was one of the simple ones, not that expensive at all so he hopes you don’t think he’s stingy with money or anything. He’ll get you something better the next time you see each other. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Do you need help getting it on?”

You nodded shyly, unsure if you should take the gift but would it be rude to turn it down? What did he expect you to do after? You don’t mean to compare but Taehyung would never give you something like this. The most he spent on you is when he helped you get a new flatscreen but even then he only paid for half of it. When the car stopped at a red light, he quickly shifted in his seat to reach you better. With a hand around your wrist he pulled you forward as he helped you with the clasp. He was quite particular with how it looked on you and made sure the pearl motif sat at the center of your wrist.

It didn’t go unnoticed how he held your hand now as the light turned green. You didn’t pull back and let his thumb graze over your soft knuckles, “Pretty.”

Confusion rendered you silent on the ride back. It’s not that you were ungrateful but you were skeptical. You’ve never met let alone gone out with a man like him and you had no idea what to make of this gift. Was he seriously giving it to you or did you have to do something to earn it? Was he interested in you or just bored? Would a man like him just give someone a thousand dollar bracelet for no reason?

“You can just park right here,” You mumbled quietly as you pointed to a spot in front of your building. He opened your door for you and looked up at the building. Earlier he missed how the street lamp flickered giving everything a ghostly shadow. You let him walk you up feeling slightly embarrassed by the appearance of the staircase and hall but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for everything, seriously,” You said as you stood at your front door. At some point his hand had found its way to yours again and was softly running his thumb against your knuckles, “Are you sure about the gift?”

“I don’t accept gifts back,” Jungkook laughed softly, “Besides, it looks better on you than it would me. I’m showing my gratitude for having you out tonight. I enjoy your company.”

“Good, I like talking to you too,” you smiled warmly and he couldn’t help but mirror it.

“So when can we go out again? What’s your schedule like this week?” Jungkook asked hopefully.

“So you’ll visit me or take me out?” You asked playfully, more forward than earlier and his smile grew.

“Both, perhaps?” He asked.

Now, you don’t usually do anything on the first date. There was a big ‘If’ about the possibly of going out with the person again but Jungkook has been better than you could’ve imagined. It doesn’t make sense why he’s single and interested in you of all people.

Before you could think of what to do, he was moving closer. His touch was soft but there was no denying the way his hand wandered up to your waist, pulling you into him gently. You wrapped an arm around his neck before you could overthink it and leaned onto your tiptoes. Jungkook smiled, his other hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up. His lips brushed against yours teasingly, taking a moment before pressing them together in a first kiss.

You both were nervous at first but it was like something inside you came to life and you kissed him with more intent. Jungkook welcomed it, smiling a little into the kiss as he pulled back to catch his breath.

“I should go inside,” You giggled softly, turning away feeling flustered.

A small sigh left his lips, holding you close to him, “I’ll call you.”

It took less than a week for Jungkook to reveal to his close friends who the mysterious person he’s been seeing was. He was not trying to keep you a secret at all but there was only so much he wanted to say to them all and it was the basics. You were a just nice girl he’s met and went on a date with, but even that was enough for all the interrogations to arise.

“So how far did you guys go?” Hoseok and his hyper sexual mind felt the need to ask, “Or were you a true gentleman and settled for a hug?”

“We kissed,” Jungkook said, licking his lips at the memory, dealing his own cards for their next round of poker, “I’m taking it slow as of now.”

“Why’s that? The gala is not too far, shouldn’t you be focused on who is attending with you?” Namjoon asked, ashing his cigarette in the tray to the left of him. Jungkook ignored half of what his friend said as he readied to play.

“Y/n seems very different from me and I just don’t want to scare her off just yet,” Jungkook said honestly, thinking back to your reaction when he gave you the bracelet. He, of course, never assumed you came from much money especially considering he knew where you worked and lived but it wasn’t a problem to him. He was more worried if you’d manage in his life with the people he’s close to. It’s something he often wonders when the possibility of a relationship comes to mind but usually this is weeks into dating. The two of you have barely gone on one date and for some reason he’s already envisioning the future and what it could look like.

“Holy shit, that’s like a thousand bucks,” Yeaun looked over the bracelet, “And he just gave it to you? Where can I find a guy like that?”

“I guess,” You said, shifting your eyes to Yoongi as if he had the answers. The two of you stood behind the bar while Yeaun sat at the counter. It was early in the evening and you’ve been since 2:00pm and ready for your shift to end. Your friend’s been here ‘studying’ for over an hour but she’s been too distracted listening to your date stories. The bar was empty aside from a couple stragglers who got off work early but nothing crazy and it put you at ease.

“Does he know about Taehyung?” Yoongi asked curiously.

“No, it was a first date. I didn't think I had to dish out all my problems so soon and scare him off,” You joked as you looked down at the bracelet, “Besides, who knows how long this will last.”

“Have you talked since then?” Yeaun asked, leaning against the counter with interest.

“A little, yeah. He works at a bank so he’s got long hours at the office so I don’t really expect him to reach out to me much,” You told them honestly, “And who knows, it might’ve just been a one time thing.”

You shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal but part of you wondered if he’d reach out for another date or not. He said he would but who knows. People make promises all the time.

“Ugh, but he sounds like a dream—a dream with money,” Yeaun pretended to swoon as she gathered her things and stuffed them into her book bag, “Alright, I’ve gotta go home and study, keep me updated though. Bye guys.”

You waved her off and turned to Yoongi as he polished some glasses. He gave you a small sigh, “I like the guy, he always tips well.”

As your shift came to an end and you left Yoongi to deal with the night people, you got on the bus to take your usual route home.

jungkook: will you be working tonight?

you: I just got off actually

jungkook: I wanted to see you :(

You read the message at least three times unable to think of a response.

jungkook: have you eaten? shall we get dinner?

Just as you hurried to type, your phone began to ring and a smile came to his face, “You really are impatient, giving me no time to answer.”

Jungkook smiled as he drove over the familiar bridge that closed the gap between you, “Sorry, I’m not used to waiting. What are you doing then?”

“I’m on the bus, a couple stops away from home,” You told him looking at the passing buildings and the way the sun had fully set now, “What time do you want to meet for dinner?”

“Now?” Jungkook asked, “I’m not too far from your place, I’ll wait—or better yet what’s the next stop and I’ll meet you.”

Jungkook’s Porsche looked strange parking at The bus stop waiting for you and you felt slightly embarrassed by your appearance. Compared to last time you were nowhere near as out together and it was clearly evident you’ve just gotten off work. Jungkook was in his office attire but he still managed to look good.

“If you had given me a little more time I would’ve gotten dressed up for you,” You said light heartedly as he greeted you with a hug and kiss on your cheek.

“But I like seeing you like this too, reminds me of that black skirt you wore the first night I met you,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, “So where’s the restaurant you were talking about?”

Something has begun to really sprout between the two of you. Part of it still feels superficial to an extent but that’s how it’s supposed to feel. You’re not supposed to jump into anything so fast…

Yes, you’ve been meeting up a lot more regularly but you still keep each other at a distance. When you meet it’s usually out and tonight Jungkook wanted to be somewhere comfortable with you. He understood you got off work at the bar late and the last thing you wanted to do was go out so he opted for another way he could see you.

“Can I come over instead?” He asked as he sat at the bar one night. It was late, Yoongi had shut the music off and the lights turned on giving everyone a hint that it was closing time. Jungkook had arrived a couple hours before midnight to keep you company. Now that you’re closing he knows there’s a chance the night would come to an end soon and it’s the last thing he wanted. He had a stressful day at work that involved a meeting with the CFO—his father, about some reports. It spiraled into a conversation about the gala and who he thinks Jungkook should go with.

He had wanted to tell his father then that he wasn’t interested in being set up on a date because he had you but he struggled saying it. He doesn’t know where the two of you stand but he wants to figure it out. Jungkook watched you wipe the counters as Yoongi counted registers and he even helped wipe down a few chairs for you as he waited for a response. If the people at the office or his friends saw him cleaning up after strangers they’d laugh in surprise. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and that’s exactly what he’s doing just to be with you.

Usually you always changed the subject when he asked, or hinted at him to go somewhere else instead but it was so late nothing would be open. Taehyung would be asleep if he was home but that was very unlikely. It was the weekend and he was most likely with his friends getting drunk somewhere and looking for an after party. There’s a chance he wouldn’t come home at all so what excuse did you have to turn Jungkook down?

In the end, you gave in and once the bar was closed, Jungkook drove straight to your apartment. He climbed up the familiar stairs, walked down the familiar aisle and stood behind you as you unlocked the door, warning him about a possible mess. Now, you weren’t cruel. Jungkook wasn’t walking in completely blindsided by the idea that you had a roommate but you weren’t totally up front with him. He knew your roommate was a guy but he wasn’t so sure about the relationship between you two.

Taehyung was half-asleep on the couch and Jungkook looked at him with furrowed brows as he followed into your room. You sighed, “Sorry, my roommate’s here.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said with a shrug as he began to unbutton the cuff of his shirt so he could roll the sleeves up, “How do you know him again?”

He wanted to ask more but he had to be patient.

“Do you want me to be honest?” You asked nervously but he nodded his head and waited.

“He’s my ex boyfriend. There’s still over six months on our lease but we’ve been broken up for… I think as long as I’ve known you now. We’re stuck living together until the lease is up,” You confessed in a single breath, “He sleeps on the couch now.”

“Your ex boyfriend?” Jungkook looked at the closed door, imagining the man who slept on the other side of it and his chest tightened. Why didn’t he just move out or why didn’t you? Was it a money issue, no one to let you crash out their place?

“Yeah but don’t worry, we don’t talk at all,” You tried to reassure him but you could tell he was too busy in his head, “What are you thinking?”

“Is this you?” He asked, holding up a picture frame in hands and staring at who appeared to be you but years younger. A small smile played on his lips that made you feel flustered as you took the frame from him, “Yes, don’t look at it. I was in a phase.”

“I can tell,” he joked playfully, looking around for something new to take his attention. Admittedly your place was small and it seemed like you had everything that expressed you shoved into your small bedroom. He understood you lived with someone else but is that what it’s like? What in this room belonged to Taehyung? You once shared it so there had to be something and that didn’t sit right with him. He had no need to get jealous but it made his throat dry to think about.

“What? You didn’t have something you were obsessed with growing up?” You asked, sitting against your row of pillows as he took a seat on your armchair. There was a vase of orchids on your vanity and books surrounding him as he stayed back.

“I was hyper fixated on water polo as a kid,” He confessed randomly, “But then there was an accident with my horse and I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Wait, that’s kind of sad,” You sat straighter, “But water polo?”

“Yeah, I switched to rowing and tennis when I was in college,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him curiously. Even in his business attire you can tell he had a lean, muscular body and you couldn’t help but stare. With an awkward clear of your throat you looked away, “Would you like a drink?”

“I can’t, I have to make it home tonight,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he stared out the window to his side. It was late and he wanted to spend more alone time with you but he probably couldn’t.

“Already?” You asked patting the left side of your bed as if calling for him. He looked between you and the spot, heart beating fast and he thought about it.

“Oh, if you insist,” He watched the way you rolled your eyes playfully, and laid back in your bed a little more, “You know, for some reason I’m comfortable around you even though we still don’t know each other that well. I think you did something to me.”

“Like?” You asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re easy to talk to and I’m not used to that,” Jungkook said, noticing the distance between you getting smaller, shoulders nearly brushing against each other, legs angled in and your hand right in his reach. He took it shyly, looking over the bracelet he gave you last time.

Jungkook was being honest now. He doesn’t understand how or why but once he met you, he felt good.

“You like me that much?” You smiled teasingly and he couldn’t help but smile too. In the beginning he always took you to be indifferent. You didn’t pay more attention to him than you needed to and clearly you had things going on in your life that stressed you out.

When you began talking to him he finally got a hint of interest in your part but he found you hard to read—he still does. You smile more often now and joke around, go out with him, but want more. If you’re closed off because of the relationship with the guy who slept outside the bedroom then he really can’t stand him.

“I do,” Jungkook smiled harder, leaning into you, “And I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

Alone in your bedroom with a guy who’s nice and handsome and charming and… overall dreamy made things hard to resist. You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his and he felt himself sink into your bed even further. His hands found the belt loops of your jeans and he hooked a finger using it to pull on top of him. You both were still dressed in your work clothes but neither of you seemed to care.

He hugged your hips, soft lips hungry for more of your touch and his mind went blank. Your hands cupped his face and you didn’t shy away from his wandering hands that snuck under your plain black tee and felt along your spine. With your body pressed to his, you rolled onto your back with him following after you, never wanting to break apart.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, kissing heavily and hands roaming but never straying too far. He didn’t push you for more even when you felt the way you affected him. Instead he kept the pace mutual, made you feel good and cared for.

By the time your lips were too swollen and sore, you had to pull back. His breathing was heavy and his hair was a mess of tousled black hair. He looked more of a wreck than you did and you couldn’t help but laugh softly trying to fix the collar of his white button up.

“I’ve got a meeting in a few hours,” Jungkook mumbled against your skin as he checked the time on his watch. It was way past midnight and he had to be ready by 7:00am. The drive home was nearly a half hour and he hadn’t prepared himself that well. As much as he wants to stay in your bed he knew he had to go.

You whined softly, hugging him closer before easing off. You let him stand up and he tucked the part of his shirt that had slipped out and attempted to fix his hair. There was an obvious bulge in his slacks that he tried to ignore even when you looked so inviting. It would be so easy for him to fall back into bed and keep going but he had to be responsible. Sadly, responsibility came in the form of having self control and remembering he’s got work tomorrow.

“I’ll walk you out,” You said with a small sigh. It was late and you had to be up early for the morning shift so it was right to end things. You needed to get out of your jeans and into bed. The two of you left your room quietly. His hand was on your waist, following you blindly out with his shoes in his hands and a calm smile.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Jungkook whispered his promise as you unlocked the front door. He stood in the brightly lit hallway now. The goodbye was sweet and he found himself lingering behind when you shut the door. He couldn’t make out the full conversation but your ex didn’t seem to have been sleeping at all.

“Who was that?” Taehyung asked, sounding tired or irritated. He was laying down but with the light from the hall shining in you can make out the shape of his open eyes.

“A friend,” You said blandly.

“Can you do me a favor and keep your friends out of here?” Taehyung asked bitterly, “It’s my apartment too. I’ve already given you the room, the least you can do is respect me enough to not bring guys over on my bed.”

He stood alone in his office, trying to take a break from the busy day he’s had. Back to back meetings, lunch with his father, endless paperwork, hearing Hoseok scold him about not going further with you, etc., he needed a break. His phone sat on his desk and it was taking everything inside him not to call you. He’s tried distracting himself with the view outside his windows but it wasn’t working.

“I’m just saying, what’s taking you so long? If you actually liked this girl wouldn’t you have gone for it?” Hoseok asked with a shrug of his shoulders, “She’s got you whipped and you haven’t even done anything, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not even like that, Y/n’s just…” Jungkook looked nervous like when he had a school crush and would get teased about it, “I wanted to—she lives with her ex.”

“Red flag,” Jimin chimed in from his corner of Jungkook’s office, “Why?”

“Because she still lives with her ex, obviously. There’s still something there or else she would’ve moved out by now don’t you think?” Jimin explained making Jungkook run his fingers through his hair anxiously.

“Maybe money’s tight. Y/n said their lease still has another six months,” Jungkook bit his lip.

“Help her pay to end it then, duh,” Hoseok said with a shrug, knowing money wasn’t a problem for him or his friends, “Free her from the shackles of past relationships.”

This time Jungkook didn’t say anything because he was too busy thinking about it. He could help you pay it off, maybe even find you a new place but would you want him to? You always seem so tired after working both jobs and although he hasn’t made it official, he doesn’t like seeing the person he’s dating stressed all the time. He could easily take the weight off your shoulders if you let him.

“Isn’t Jungkook’s problem that he hates dating women after his money? Why are you volunteering him to pay for some random girl’s rent?” Hoseok asked with a scoff, “The girl I set you up with would never, FYI.”

He rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair, “I don’t care about that girl. I care about Y/n.”

“So make it official, offer her help, and take her to the gala. Boom!” Jimin clapped like he solved world hunger.

He was going to, he planned to at least, he was just thinking of how to do it. It should be something simple but for some reason he’s nervous to do it. Everyone has already been nagging him about his personal life and as much as he’d like to keep you to himself, part of him also wants to show you off. You’re not what he expected

When he was alone in his office, he spent his time thinking about what you could be doing right now and how badly he wanted to see you. All you’ve done is make out and he wants to do more but he’s also happy about the pace you’re taking things. It seems right. He’s not jumping to get into your pants and you’re not running to his pockets. He respects you and finds you too stunning to let go even if you lead different lives.

After work, he headed right to where he’d find you and you were talking with some college guys who ordered shots at the bar. They were in some university jackets and seemed perfectly content taking up your time.

“Are those for me?” Yoongi asked, stepping out from the walk-in fridge of alcohol. He pointed at what Jungkook was holding and it seemed to catch your attention too, finally making you look over at him. Your eyes softened, standing up as he got to the bar.

He held a large bouquet of orchids, various types of the flower, some pink, some white, a little bit of both, a hint of yellow. They looked pretty and he held them out to you as he responded to Yoongi, “Sorry, hyung. Maybe next time.”

“I didn’t know you were stopping in tonight,” You said, taking the flowers graciously. Now that you’re sort of seeing each other he hasn’t been stopping regularly. Usually he sees you in your free time and occasionally if he goes to the bar but it’s usually at the end when not many people are left and you’re about to close.

“I meant to call but I forgot, forgive me?” He asked with a teasing smile, eyes glazed over as he watched you, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

You didn’t hesitate to step out with him, alone in front of your job, clutching the bouquet in your hands.

“So, I’ve been kind of pushing it off because I’m not sure what you’ll think, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I can’t wait much longer to ask,” Jungkook started off with a nervous scoff, “And now that we’re out here and I’ve distracted you from work, it’s probably shitty timing but—“

“Jungkook,” You said, looking up at him, “What do you want to ask me?”

“Will you go out with me? I mean… I know we’ve gone on a few dates here and there but I don’t think to keep going with this without asking you for a relationship. I want to get to know you more and more and I don’t want to think about you possibly misreading my intentions and I just… really want to be your boyfriend,” Jungkook finished.

A smile spread on your lips as you leaned into him, one hand around his neck while the other held the bouquet from falling. His hands fell effortlessly on your waist, pulling you closer, feeling you nod your head against him, “Is this a yes?”

“Yes,” You kissed his cheek, “Orchids are my favorite also.”

“Really?” He asked feigning surprise, “I guess I was lucky picking them out.”

“Are you staying for a drink?” You asked pulling back despite his hold.

“I don’t think so, I’ve got another crazy day tomorrow and I’ve got some errands to run. Do you close tonight?” Jungkook asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You work too much?”

“I work too much?” You asked with a laugh, “You’re the one with back to back meetings.”

It was oddly endearing seeing the way he pouted despite his tough exterior. He wore a black suit and his hair was combed back, driving his usual Porsche but then pouting at you rather cutely and delivering you your favorite flowers.

“You’re right, I’ll take a few days off and spend all my time with you,” Jungkook said playfully, “If you think I’m clingy now just you wait.”

“Okay, okay,” You pushed against his chest lightly, “I have to get back inside before Yoongi kills me. Thank you for the flowers.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook bit his lip, keeping you close to him still as he refused to let go of your hand, “Can I get a kiss before you go?”

You sighed, pretending to find it bothersome but let him pull you back. You kissed him goodbye with a promise to call him when you get home and went inside as he drove off.

The flowers looked pretty in the clear cylinder vase you fit them into once you got home that night. You ignored it when Taehyung slammed the door and set the flowers on your vanity, smiling a little to yourself as you got ready for bed.

It took a week for him to officially ask you to be his date for the event of the year. He wanted to appreciate the tranquility he had with you at least a little before he brought you to everyone close to him. He didn’t want your opinion about him changing but he also wanted to show you off finally. In the end, he asked you over dinner and you had no reason to turn him down.

You didn’t fully understand what he was inviting you to and the gift he left for you one day only left you more confused.

“Just try it on, baby,” Jungkook urged you on as he busied himself in your bedroom while you stared at the box on your bed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better at the last minute but you’ll look beautiful either way.”

He already thought you looked pretty with how you styled your hair and makeup, you just needed a pretty bustier gown with orchids to match. It was a vintage Dolce & Gabbana dress that accentuates your figure nicely. Your neck looked plane but he fixed that with a few gold pieces and rushed you out the room. Taehyung wasn’t home—not that either of you cared if he was—but if you could avoid him the better. You didn’t need him looking at you some type of way and you’re sure Jungkook could go without it too.

“I could’ve found something to wear, you didn’t have to,” You tried to say but it was clear he wasn’t listening.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook fixed the cuffs of his suit, checking the time on his watch. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going now.”

When he first told you about the charity gala, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few auctions, some guest speakers or small press but this was so much more than that. Hundreds of people filed into the large venue, chandeliers held high and disco balls spinning. Everyone wore suits and beautiful dresses who wore them more confidently than you did yours. There were performance acts happening all around you and a few people you’ve seen on television in attendance. Without meaning to, you leaned against Jungkook as he navigated through the seating and found your table.

“Look who’s finally decided to let us meet his girlfriend,” Someone said from the table as Jungkook searched around for his place card. Usually, he sat with his parents and his brother and his family but he started with his friends first. The others were busy speaking on stage and right now the guys seemed less intimidating.

“Y/n, this is Jimin, you’ll learn he never thinks before he speaks,” Jungkook joked, making you want to smile but unsure if you should.

“You clean up nicely for a waitress,” Someone else said and Jungkook looked up immediately. Hoseok was obviously joking—perhaps to impress the girl he’s been seeing and the one he set Jungkook up with for a date [who was surprisingly on Jin’s arm now]. One of the girls snickered, making your brows furrow.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Namjoon told him off, directing Jungkook to sit down, noticing how ready he was to speak up.

“You’re prettier than he said,” Namjoon told you with a polite smile. Jungkook’s hand rested on the back of your chair as he looked around for his parents before asking you, “Just ignore some of the stuff they say. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m not worried,” You admitted, sitting straighter as you looked at your name plaque on the dining set in front of you. He smiled down at you, “You are prettier than I first said.”

“So what’s it like busting tables, Y/n?” Some woman asked you and Jungkook turned, clearly annoyed. He couldn’t understand why Hoseok would bring the girl he went on a date with to the gala as Jin’s date instead. It didn’t make sense and once again his dear friend was bringing questionable guests.

“About as pleasant as your company,” You said with a smile, “Perhaps a bit more, I’d assume? I don’t know, I'm not a waitress.”

You were a bartender and a cashier, if this random woman is going to insult you could she at least be accurate? Either way, there’s nothing wrong with being in the service industry but judging by everyone around the table, they all look down it. You looked at Jungkook, in his designer suit, wearing the designer dress he bought you and feeling very obviously out of place.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom,” You whispered to him and concern flickered in his eyes. Your hand barely grazed his shoulder as you stood up and he placed his hand over it keeping you from leaving just yet.

“Everything okay?” He asked, not caring for anyone else at the table but you at the moment. You nodded with a gentle smile, “Yes, I’ll be right back.”

When you left the table it seemed like everyone was able to catch a proper breath, all looking at Jungkook as if he had something to say. He didn’t let you get too far out of his sight before he stood up too.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked with an amused expression, “I want Y/n back, she’s cute.”

“I’m gonna find us better company,” Jungkook said as he looked at the women and Hoseok, “Sober company.”

“Come on man, we’re just messing around,” he said turning to Jin hoping for some help but Jin chose to stay out of it, “She’s great, honestly. Not what I expected.”

“Hobi,” one of the girls complained but Jungkook was taking his drink and leaving.

You tried to fix your appearance in the mirror but there wasn’t anything specific you could point to. There was just something that felt wrong and maybe it was being here at all. Maybe you’re moving too fast? You’ve already agreed to go out with him and you have strong feelings for him but if those are his friends… and these are the parties he attends… maybe you’re not cut out for it.

The women were flooded in designer and a sort of elegance you’re sure you didn’t possess and the others seemed just as luxurious. You work two jobs to keep a shitty roof over your head while you’re attending a ball in a dress worth more than what you make in a month. You might act like you’re not nervous but you’re anxious. It feels like you’re pretending to be comfortable. Do you deserve this sort of treatment from him? All he’s done since you met him is keep you company, shower you in gifts, listen you every word you said, and… brought you around those close to him but were you right for him?

He seemed too good for you.

“I was beginning to think you ran out on me,” Jungkook said with a chuckle as he watched you jump in surprise. He stood near the entrance to the washrooms and waited for you to come out for what felt like forever.

“You really are impatient,” You teased as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Is everyone still at the table?”

“Probably,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his and walking through the crowds, “But I’m sick of them, let’s do our own thing for now.”

Jungkook was as attentive as ever. He introduced you to anyone who came up to him and he looked genuinely happy to have you there by his side. You haven’t been seeing each other for long at all, but it feels right. At one point you reunited with his friends, except Jimin was off somewhere with Jin and the two girls. The rest welcomed you just fine and asked you questions about yourself. Sometimes Jungkook would say something about you that you had no idea he knew. Hoseok found it adorable how he spoke for you with a sense of pride or excitement. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention that Jungkook felt strongly for you and you for him. Although hesitant to let you in, you seemed to charm your way with his friends and it made him happy to see how well you fit in.

“Leaving already?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook made his rounds of farewell to everyone he knew.

“Yeah, we’re… tired,” Jungkook said but the smile on his face said otherwise, “And it’s late.”

“Hm,” Namjoon seemed amused as he looked down at the arm Jungkook had around your waist and how it ran along your hip, holding you close. The two of you looked like proper lovers on their honeymoon and he couldn’t help but laugh, knowing neither of you were close to tired—just ready to leave.

He smirked, “Have fun.”

“What did that mean?” You asked as Jungkook led you out but he just shrugged. Valet brought his car and you got in with him.

“Don’t know,” Jungkook said leaning over the middle consoled to kiss you, “Will you spend the night at my place?”

“I don’t have clothes,” You said, smiling at the way he seemed to deject, worrying at his bottom lip.

“I mean… we won’t really need tha—“

“Jungkook!” You hit his arm playfully, making him laugh. He drove to his place with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He lived in a penthouse in the sky, at one of the most expensive apartments in the whole city. The entire ride up the elevator was filled with his rough hands holding you in his arms, telling you how beautiful you looked tonight.

“I can’t take too much credit,” You teased, arms around his neck as you went to the top floors, “You’re the one who picked out the dress.”

“It’s not about the dress,” Jungkook whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “It’s about the person wearing it.”

“And what about when I’m not wearing it?” You asked, stepping out of the elevator once it got to his floor. You walked ahead of him and he couldn’t help but look after you. Your hips swayed with each step, walking so effortlessly in a dress that accentuated your shape. It had his attention all night and he knew tonight was the night he’d have you. You were hard to resist but he was patient, he waited for the right timing to make sure what he felt was right and it was. He was so into you it was all he could think about.

“Y/n,” Jungkook called for you before you could skip too far from him. The two of you stood in the foyer now and he was taking your hand in his to keep you from wandering too far inside. His place was huge, the entrance alone had a level of class you didn’t expect. It was a two level penthouse with a grand staircase and pool on the balcony. Your heels created an echo that felt never endless and in the middle of the foyer was a rounded table with a small stack of mail and a large vase of orchids.

Now you feel bad always dragging him to your small bedroom in an apartment you shared with an ex boyfriend. It was something Jungkook never seemed bothered by—even when Taehyung would make a fuss about something—and that made you feel even more embarrassed.

You were too distracted to notice when he closed the space between you, hands on your waist as he pulled you against him.

“You’ve been handsy all night, y’know,” You teased him with a smile, turning in his arms to face him. He let his forehead lean against yours, and closed the space between your lips until you were kissing.

There was a hint of a smile into the kiss as he deepened it by dipping his head low, mouths moving in sync. Even with your heels, you couldn’t quite reach him and tried to lean upward.

Jungkook’s hands traced down your waist, falling to your hips and without pulling away, pulled you onto the table, sliding his mail to the floor. A light squeal left your lips, holding him tighter, “Jungkook.”

“I can’t help it,” He began to trail soft kisses down your neck, nibbling here and there to get a reaction out of you, “I’ve been good all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a cute and amused laugh that made him smile. One of the straps of your dress slipped down your shoulders and he hooked a finger into the thin fabric and pushed it back into spot. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to help you down from the table, not yet letting you go but walked toward the staircase “And I’ve got you all alone now. Nobody asking you for another round of drinks, or your… roommate, just you and I. I don’t think I can hold back any longer.”

With that being said, he guided you up the stairs taking you down a hallway toward the main bedroom. It was modern and dark with a wall of windows that overlooked the city lights. His bed was at the center with black sheets that he set you down and begins kissing you again.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, pushed the jacket off and untucked it from his slacks. Every time you see him he’s dressed so nicely but you wanted to see what it looked like underneath. One time it had been late and last minute when he saw you and was dressed in a casual hoodie and sweats. You made out on your bed but never got far enough to take your clothes off. You know he’s muscular and lean but you needed to see it all.

Although your pace of undressing him was quick to your knowing, it wasn’t enough for him. He yanked at the buttons, pulling it off and your jaw nearly dropped.

"Tattoos?" You questioned with surprise, as he sat back on his haunches playing with the buckle of his belt. He unclipped the back of his silver watch, throwing it on the floor and pulled his belt fully out of the loops.

“Surprising?” He responded looking down at. Your dress was ruffled up around your waist and your legs looked smooth. You sat back on your hands to meet him halfway for another kiss and while his mouth was concentrated on yours and your tongues danced against each other, he slipped his hands down your back. Your dress had a lower back cut, barely held together by a ribbon that had been tempting him all night. How easy it would have been to undo it and kiss along your spine.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips and swallowed by his as he pushed the straps off your shoulder and let it pool around your breasts. He slipped it further down exposing more of yourself to him and he kissed down your neck. You were slowly fall back into his pillows with his mouth against your collarbone, guiding you to your back so he could take the dress off you.

He left wet kiss down your chest, hands tracing along your ribcage as you arched into him and your breasts fell and rose with each heavy breath you took. mouth left wet kisses down to your collarbone and between your breasts. You let out a sigh feeling his gentle touch and he cupped your soft mound, squeezing lightly before he brought his lips to your hardening bud.

“Is this good?” Jungkook asked almost shyly, tongue sneaking a touch on your nipple as his thumb swiped over it feeling it begin to stiffen. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a couple times.

"Jungko—ngh," you whined wriggling around a little for more. He looked up at you through a mess of hair and his teasing tongue flicked your nipple as his other hand groped the flesh of your left breast.

You touched along his back wanting to feel more of him pushing your breasts in his face and he drooled all over your boobs, sucking and licking your skin while you arched into him.

Once his tongue had grown sore, Jungkook moved along down your stomach pulling on it in hopes that he could get it off. With a small huff in annoyance, he sat back, looking down at your half naked body and tried to work out a way to take it off you. He raised your legs against his shoulders, sliding the flimsy fabric off and throwing it to the floor next to his shirt.

It didn’t go ignored the fact that you had been completely bare underneath, your pubic area exposed to him as you’ve gone all night with no panties and it was only now he realized.

“You had nothing under this entire time?” Jungkook asked, finally pulling his own pants down, not bothering to wait to get his briefs off and did them both at the same time. He barely gave you time to appreciate the veins leading down his V-line toward his hardened cock before he was leaning down to kiss you again, “If I would’ve known we would’ve never left your apartment.”

“Good thing I didn’t tell you then,” You said between gasps when he licked the shell of your ear, pressing his naked body against yours.

Tonight had been something he’s known for months and a yearly event that he needed to attend. If he had known and seriously kept you in bed you’re sure he would’ve heard an earful. You only chose to go bare so you wouldn’t get a panty line on the dress.

He must’ve liked your chest because he went back to your breasts hungrily latching onto a nipple again, choosing not to respond anymore as he got lost in your warmth.

Like earlier when he got the dress off, he hitched your right leg up until it was bent close to your stomach, exposing more of your wet pussy to his greedy eyes. Silky strings of arousal glazed over your folds making him run his tongue along his bottom lip. Jungkook was focused on your wet cunt, dragging a finger along the center where your juices puddled at your entrance. It was a wet, creamy sort of slick that coated his fingers and your clit.

You released a moan at stimulation, jaw going slack when Jungkook gripped your hips with his free hand and pressed you firmly to the bed. Making sure you wouldn’t squirm away, he dropped to his stomach, face between your lips as he went for a taste.

His lips were soft against your folds, eyes locked onto the sight of your puffy lips and let his tongue lick up the puddle of arousal. He practically sucked on it for a taste and left open mouth kisses on your cunt. You gripped the bed sheets tightly, legs threatening to shut but whenever you tried to squirm his head followed your movements.

Jungkook could barely breathe but it felt unnecessary as he nipped at your labia, sucking it into his mouth and letting your clit rut against the tip of his rounded nose. In all honesty, there was only one thing on his mind right now. He wanted to please you and make you feel good. He wanted to make you forget about any other guy and make you think of him and only him. His mouth closed over the stiffened clit suddenly and he began to lick and suck, feeling the outline of your slit get his chin wet like a dog lapping at water with thirst.

You had to be the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue and it was making him lose his mind—aimlessly rutting his stiff cock against the bed.

Your head had fully tipped back, no longer paying attention to the pleasure he brought between your legs and sunk into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling moaning. Jungkook watched you succumb to what he gave you and he snaked a hand along your body, feeling the way your stomach caved in with deep breaths and settled a grip on your tits. His fingers were wet and he used the liquid to coat your nipples, rubbing them between fingers and quite literally tongue fucking you with your hips humping his face.

You were in ecstasy with his mouth slobbering all over your cunt. You couldn’t remember the last time you let someone touch you—pleasure you. It surely wasn’t with the ex you lived with. You stopped letting him in long before you broke up and even then he didn’t make you feel the way Jungkook did.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, hands in his

dark hair keeping him in place. He didn't say anything only guided you through an orgasm, feeling the way your legs shook and your breath hitched. Your clit twitched in his mouth and he tried to soothe the feeling with tender lips, tongue lapping at your release as you came down from your high.

Your eyes opened, looking right at the red tip of his cock, aching with need and pointing straight at you. He leaked with precum just from what he had done to you and he needed more. You tried to sit up on shaky legs, meeting him halfway for a messy tongue kiss, licking your arousal off his lips and some spit mixed into it. It was nasty but it made him grown with lust, especially when your hand snaked around his mushroom tip.

Jungkook dropped his forehead against your shoulder, staring down at your naked bodies and focusing on the hand you had on him. Your thumb was rubbing against the slit, smearing clear arousal around his head. His brows knitted together, a confused expression as you tried leaning back, managing to pull him into bed. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint and get on his back.

“Baby,” Jungkook tried to warn as you shifted to sit between his legs, leaning down to his stiff member. He was so close already and wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to handle before he had a chance to be inside you. A dry gasp left his lips as you went in without warning.

You flattened your tongue on the underside of his length, teasing a long lick from his base to the tip. Spit pooled in your mouth that you let drool out of your mouth and cover his tip, eyes on him the whole time. His eyes felt heavy but he refused to let them shut, wanting to see the way you took his cock into your mouth seductively.

A deep, throaty men left his lips as you swallowed as much of him as you could; never pulling your eyes off him and his head nearly tipped back with pleasure. Holding the base of his cock with one hand, you begin to bob your head setting a good pace, with your other hand on his muscular thigh.

Your eyes lock on the obvious muscles flexing under your touch, his abdomen more prominent than before and you eyed his tattoos curiously. Whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth was jerked off by your free hand that would occasionally run a little lower to massage his scrotum.

You can tell he was close which left you with a sense of pride. Your nose pressed into his pubic bone, taking steady breaths as you flattened your tongue and relaxed your throat to fit whatever more you can. Jungkook panted feeling the throb of his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag and resume to deep throat him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned tossing his head back in bliss, hand hiding his face as it scrunched together in pleasure. Moans were pouring out of his mouth, sounds muffled into his hand, "I'm so—close."

It hit him at once, hips nearly licking from how hard his muscles tightened with pleasure. His cock twitched warning a gag from you before he couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t pull away, swallowing what you could of his release.

Jungkook slowly comes down from his high, hand petting your hair. His eyes were hazy and his mouth dry. It felt like he couldn't move a muscle but he needed to feel your mouth on his. He could taste himself on you and with your aftertaste on his he wished to kiss more, pulling you onto his lap.

It was the best head he’s ever received yet his cock ached for more.

“Condom?” You asked, nipping at his ear lobe making his eyes roll. He didn’t bother to shift you off his lap as he blindly felt around his nightstand for protection.

He let you slide it onto his member, watching it bounce back up, too stiff to budge and held placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him.

The expression you made as you sank onto his length was utterly beautiful and you radiated a confidence in taking him that he hadn’t seen before. Every time he’d seen you has led up to this moment where you could finally be as intimate as you please and he wasn’t the only one jumping for the chance. He didn't push to move even if he really wanted to and instead let you adjust. He wanted this to be pleasurable to you too.

"Jungkook," you whined, hands flat on his chest making your tits perk up and he carefully shifted his hips, rolling them up to dig just a little deeper.

“That’s it baby,” he muttered under his breath, watching your hair fall forward as you tried to concentrate on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him and he watched your body shudder with pleasure. It was hypnotic the way you pulled him and he couldn’t help but lean upward, kissing one of your breasts as you rode his dick for the first time.

He groped at your ass, spreading the soft cheeks apart and rammed into you when you threw your head back with a whimper, "Feels good."

You threw your arms around him, suffocating him against your chest as he bounced you on his dick, moaning against your nipples and drooling. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt stuck, unable to move his hips as much as he wanted to and with a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist, “Fuck, I can’t.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his words as Jungkook began to quite literally drop dick inside you, grinding his pelvis into you with each deep thrust and it felt nasty to be fucked this way.

A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either.

He hasn't slept with someone in months and it definitely didn't feel like this. He didn’t give it up to just anyone despite what reputation he might have, and it took him time to sleep with you. He had to feel intimate in other ways before he let himself feel the pleasure you brought him.

“Gonna cum for me?” He asked softly, kissing your jaw and hugging your waist as he dug your pussy out, feeling your nails claw at his back.

“Please,” you begged, snuggling into his neck and his chest tightened with want. He put more purpose into his thrusts, bringing you and himself so close to the edge that you would tip over any moment. You sounded too pretty begging for him to just ignore.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, skin rising with bumps as a shiver ran down your body. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, coming undone once again. Jungkook couldn’t hold on much longer and your legs around him gave him no choice but to fuck the rest of length in you until he came into the condom.

You laid together for a moment, both shaking and softly petty each other as you came down. Jungkook’s fingers combed your hair back and you straightened your sore legs as you let him pull out.

You don’t remember much aside from the drowsiness and he cleaned you up better than you could’ve.

He lied back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body and fell asleep in your arms.

Once the sun rose into the sky, sneaking into the bedroom through the blinds and waking you from a heavy sleep, you found yourself feeling sore. You attempted to stretch but Jungkook’s arm trapped you against him.

“What time is it?” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at your naked body feeling self conscious as you rolled onto your side to find your phone. It was somewhere out in the foyer with the rest of your things you’d forgotten.

The time on Jungkook’s alarm clock read ten minutes past the bus. You should’ve been on it and on your way to the cafe.

“Y/n,” Jungkook mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little to see what was holding your attention, “Back to sleep.”

“I’m going to be late to the cafe,” You said, attempting to get up but failing miserably once he pulled you back down.

“Who cares about that one, let’s sleep a little longer,” He said and although your heart raced, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have work today? We’ll both be late,” You tried to reason but your now clingy boyfriend wasn’t hearing any of it.

“I’m in line to be CFO, I can do whatever I want and today I’m choosing to spend as much time with you as possible,” Jungkook said arrogantly but it was so easy to look past when he kissed your palm affectionately.

“Not all of us are as lucky,” You sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you tried getting out of bed. Instead you just ended up underneath him.

His smile was mischievous, “So I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?”

“We already barely have time to see each other,” Jungkook said with a small pout, “And you live so far with someone who doesn’t deserve to see you as often as he does…”

“Well, maybe you should come stay with me. I know you said Yeaun doesn’t have the space to let you move in with her and I really don’t want you stressing about rent or living with someone you don’t want to live with,” Jungkook told you, slowly rolling off you once he felt he had your attention, “So what do you say?”

“You live far,” You tried to say, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your front. You weren’t completely opposed to it but shocked nevertheless.

“That’s why I think you should quit at the cafe,” Jungkook said eagerly, “That way you could focus on just one job and have so much more free time. I’ll take you or get you a driver—a car?, whatever you need to get to the bar. I know you like working there but at least you wouldn’t be running back and forth between jobs. I live far but I’m asking you, will you move in with me?”

“I have to think about it,” you sighed, sinking further into bed and the thought of getting up to answer missed calls from your job made you want to hide under the covers. You really did not like working there. It was early hours, shitty pay, and rude people. At least at the bar it was nighttime and the people knew you. And it would be nice to no longer live with Taehyung…

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, pulling you into his arms knowing you were seriously considering it, “… And if you ever decide you don’t want to be at the bar either… you’ll be with me and have all the time in the world to do what you want.”

“You’re offering too much,” You said playfully, hugging him lovingly, “I’ll really start to think about it.”

“Please, I could give you whatever you want if you just let me,” Jungkook says.

In some strange, unexplainable way, he fell for someone so unlike him. It was effortless and comforting to the point that nothing would bother him about it and all he wanted was to be with you. He could ignore everything else, or solve anything just to be with you.

It’s like you’re what he’s been looking for and he’s what you need—someone trusting, reliable and loving.

Ever since he saw you buying orchids at the convenience store, he can’t help but think of them when he thinks of you. You remind him of one.

Beautiful, charming, graceful. It didn’t matter if you had different upbringings or experiences, all he knows is you’re fit for him and he’s fit for you. He’ll show you things you’ve never seen, treat you to luxuries and care while you teach him more about yourself. Let him really get to know you and what makes you smile.

To do that, you have to let him in.

“So no work?” Jungkook asked hopefully making you roll your eyes, trying not to smile.

“I guess not,” You sighed, feeling him begin to smile against you and hurried to stop him, “But I should still go home.”

“To pack?”

“No, to shower and get dressed,” You corrected him, laughing at how he whined, “Well talk about it more later, last night was…”

“A lot?”

“You can say that”

::.

haven’t posted in forever and I needed to drop something for yall 😭I hope you enjoy it when it’s out and pls bear with me lol. idk if it’s good I’ve been working on it for too long to tell There’s definitely errors and questions yall might have so pls feel free to send it in inbox!

Knowing what he knows now, Jongseob should have gone to bed earlier that night like he’d originally planned.

⸝⸝

“Jongseob has no game, we can’t make him do it.”

Jongseob looked up from his phone at the mention of his name. “Make me do what?”

His friends were scattered in the living room of the Lambda Chi Alpha house in various states of intoxication, the empty bottles of beer and cups littered on the floor as evidence. Soul was playing on his DS, Jiung was trying to keep the area clean while Intak kept adding to the mess with more solo cups and crumbs, Theo was laid flat on the ground face-down, and Keeho was on the couch looking straight at Jongseob with a smile that was equally unnerving and punchable.

“Theo and I were just talking about that girl from our class,” Keeho explained.

Jiung tied up the plastic bag full of garbage and put it aside before he made his way to join the deformed circle. “The one from calc?”

“No, the hot but annoying one from econ,” Intak said.

Theo made a groaning sound to input his disdain.

It was hard not to know the girl they were talking about. The one who was insanely smart but also insanely insufferable and apparently the source of great despair for both Theo and Keeho, who had to put up with her every Monday mornings and makes it everyone’s problems on Monday nights when they’re all gathered at the house for takeout. So yes, Jongseob was very familiar with the girl with overbearing tendencies and a know-it-all attitude that was not only a problem for Keeho and Theo, but for him too from how often he had to hear about it. He’d started subconsciously resenting her just from the stories.

“Okay,” Jongseob said, putting his phone down. “What does my lack of game have anything to do with her?”

“We had a theory,” Theo said as he pushed himself up to his knees, brushing his hair out of his face with his hands. “Maybe the reason she’s so wound up is because no one’s unwinding her.”

Jiung scrunched his nose in disgust, succinctly mirroring Jongseob's internal emotion at the thought. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s a valid theory,” Intak defended. “People with no sexual outlet are usually more cranky.”

“But the problem is she’s so cranky that no one wants to sleep with her,” Keeho added, and Jongseob had the unsettling feeling he knew where this was going. “Hence my plan.”

Jongseob narrowed his eyes at Keeho. “Don’t tell me you were planning on pimping me off to your self-proclaimed nemesis to make your life easier.”

Keeho rolled his eyes with a laugh. “No, we’ve established you have no game. That’s exactly why I wasn’t going to offer you.”

Jongseob scowled at him, offended. “I totally have game.”

Keeho’s smile turned into a wolfish grin. “Oh yeah? You wanna take the bullet for us then?”

“No, I’m not sleeping with her for this. I’m not a pig. You do it.”

“No, she hates me and Theo.”

“I’ll do it,” Intak offered with a sleazy grin. “I like ‘em feisty anyways.”

Theo scoffed as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. “She would never go for the campus slut. Jiung might work though.”

Jiung immediately stood up at the mention of his name. “Absolutely not. I want no part of this,” he said as he turned and abandoned them for the kitchen.

Soul, who’d been quietly gaming away, pipes up from where he was curled up on the bean bag. “Isn’t this a little… mean? Talking about her like this?”

Keeho waved his hand dismissively at Soul. “She’s meaner. Way meaner.” He then turned to Jongseob. “You might just be our last shot then.”

“I already said no.”

“You don’t have to sleep with her,” he amended. “But for the love of god, please just get in there and loosen her up or something.”

“Are we even sure she’s capable of love?” Theo wondered aloud, looking up melodramatically at the ceiling. 

Intak tried to butt in again. “I could make her fall in love with me in a month.”

“I bet two hundred that she murders you before that happens,” Theo retorted drily, ignoring Intak’s offended cry as he looked at Jongseob again with narrowed, calculating eyes. “I bet a hundred you wouldn’t even last a month just dating her. She’s a nightmare.”

Keeho fixed him with the same stare, sizing him up. “I’d give him two. Seobie’s stronger than he looks.”

Now this felt a little ridiculous. He’d heard about her from other people too; sure, the girl seemed pretty difficult, but maybe she was just stuck in a perpetual bad day. She probably had a good side to her like everyone else did; maybe she just didn’t feel like showing it. She wasn’t obligated to. And the competitor in him was stirring at the first sniff of a challenge.

“There’s no way she’s that bad,” Jongseob said, crossing his arms. 

“Have you been listening to any of the stories I’ve been telling you guys for the past four months?”

“Not really.”

Keeho shoved his finger in Jongseob’s face. “Rude.”

Jongseob swatted his hand away and looked at Theo. “Four hundred if I can last by the end of next semester. I’m not sleeping with her though.” Four hundred can get him that bass guitar he’s been wanting forever and Theo was rich enough so he might as well have taken the chance. 

Theo grinned at him, conniving and cocksure. “Bet.”

Keeho whistled, an impressed look on his face as he leaned back on his arms. “You’re brave.”

Jongseob shrugged and turned his attention back to his phone. “I just really doubt she’s that bad.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

He remembers eating those words after meeting you for the first time.

⸝⸝

Jongseob had signed up for the newsletter club when the semester started, which he learned from Theo was composed of a handful of people and, more importantly, led by you. He had high hopes going in; he needed more extracurriculars on his resume and it was the perfect way to connect with you. A win-win situation. And the rules for the bet that were outlined to him were that he had to start dating you within the first month and the relationship had to last until the last day of class for the year.

But after just that first day with you, he could tell why you got the bad rap that you did.

You were curt with your introductions and sent everyone right to work with homework of all things, on the basis that you needed to evaluate whether they were good enough to stay on the club despite the fact that everyone already had to go through the application and interview process. 

He could excuse it as you just being extra thorough, but when he’d gone to you for clarification on the topic (and to just get a chance to talk with you), you’d waved him away with a quick, “If you’re so good, you’ll figure it out.” 

You refused to talk to the new joiners any further, stating you had more important things to do than babysit. You were cold, distant, snippy, full of yourself, and wore your brows perpetually furrowed in concentration or anger or whatever the emotion was that you always carried on your face. Everything that everyone claimed you were.

He’s not sure why he didn’t listen to them. It would’ve saved him all the trouble.

But he was in it now, and he wanted that bass bad. So what if he had to go through a little psychological torture.

When Theo had welcomed him home with a “How was the first day?” and a knowing smirk, Jongseob had just flipped him off before locking himself away in his room to get cracking on your assignment.

He didn’t expect it to be as difficult and as long as it was, and it had to be handwritten for whatever reason. It was hard enough that by the next week, only two of the six new joiners had come back.

And when he tried to turn his assignment in, you handed it right back to him without so much as a glance.

“The fact that you’re still here means you have what it takes,” you said, turning back to your laptop and waving him away.

Jongseob stared at you, his jaw slacked. “I worked on this for days,” he starts slowly. “I gave up so many hours of sleep for this and you’re not even gonna read it?”

You looked up at him, your fingers still typing away on your laptop. “That’s how this industry works,” you said. Your hands paused over the keyboard for a moment. “Hours of tireless work can end up scrapped. It might not see the light of day and just collect dust in a corner. If you can’t deal with that, then this place isn’t for you.”

His jaw ticked. The sleeplessness had weakened his inhibitions and there was nothing stopping the ire seeping through his tight words. “This is just a club,” he stated, teeth clenched.

Everyone in the club room froze as soon as the words left his lips. 

Your face turned to stone, the cold dialed to an eleven, and Jongseob immediately regretted his words. “Is that so?” You asked, your voice level despite the anger coming alive in your eyes. You leaned forward, folding your arms on the table, and Jongseob suddenly felt small despite the fact that he was looking down on you from where he stood in front of your desk. “If this is just a club to you, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

Maybe I shouldn’t, he nearly said. But that wouldn’t work. He had to be here for this to work even though this made him want to turn around and never look back again. 

He should’ve ran back then.

He swallowed his words and shook his head, forcing his eyes to the ground in submission. “No. I’m sorry, it’s not just a club,” he said, though he didn’t believe the words. 

He needed to do what it took to be on your good side even if you already looked like you hated his guts after exchanging just a few words, and so the seeds of doubt were already planted in his mind.

Your eyes narrowed at him, like you didn’t quite believe him. “Get to work,” you ordered, and Jongseob had to physically bite down on his tongue to hold himself back.

In the name of his future bass, he obeyed and got to work. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

Jongseob had nearly quit a few weeks later. The work you’d been dumping on him is so much more than what you’d been giving the other new guy. It didn’t take much to figure out that you actually did hate him. All it took was that one comment that he was really regretting let slip past his tongue, although he didn’t see what the fuss about it was. 

He’d tried to smooth things over and tried to talk to you but you were unreceptive to all of his attempts. All you talked about is work and articles and interviews and there was just no opportunity for him to steer the conversation towards anything productive for his quest. You would just consistently shut him down and tell him to get to work.

He’s said this much to Soul, who was sitting on his bed and listening politely while Jongseob paced his room. 

“You should ask her about what she’s interested in,” Soul suggested after Jongseob’s rant. “Everyone likes talking about what they’re passionate about.”

Jongseob threw his hands up in frustration. “I’ve tried! She doesn’t talk about anything but the damn club.”

“That’s because she’s passionate about the club,” Soul pointed out as he pulled his knees to his chest. “Ask about why she likes writing. People like it when people are interested in them.”

Jongseob stopped pacing and turned to stare at his best friend. “Oh. That’s… kind of obvious.”

“Maybe I should’ve taken the bet,” Soul joked with a giggle. “I’m better with people than you.”

Jongseob bristled at that, feeling strangely possessive. “No, this is my task. I need that bass.” It’s his challenge and he’d be damned to let anyone take it from him. You’re the puzzle he’d set out to solve, the enigma that tickled his brain, an itch he needed to scratch. He wanted to figure you out. 

“If you say so.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Soul might be some sort of genius, Jongseob had decided after the next meeting. Or he was just right about being better at people.

When Jongseob had sat with you in the office, alone with you for once since he needed to put in a little overtime to get one of his articles done, he’d taken his chance, and he came out of it alive to his surprise.

He’d eased into it, started off with asking how you got to joining the club and some follow ups after that, all of which only got him curt responses and a jibe at him to focus on his work.

But he’d ignored you and barrelled on, too dialled in now to back down. Then he’d asked you the question that got him through your first wall, one of many others to come.

“Why do you like writing?"

He could still picture it in his head as he lay in bed that night; the way that your hands had faltered and your face had softened in a way he’d never seen before.

You’d looked up at him from your screen, a little shocked but thoughtful as you crafted your answer in the silence that followed. He could still remember the cadence of your voice, soft like the setting sunlight that washed into the room.

“It’s making something out of nothing that leaves an impression on people,” you had answered and he could swear he saw your eyes practically sparkle. “You can make them feel anything. Angry, happy, sad, mournful. Isn’t that powerful?”

Your smile hadn’t been on your lips. It had been in your eyes.

He swore it felt like his limbs had ceded all his power to the way you’d gazed at him for the next few seconds. He couldn’t read the emotion in your eyes but when you looked back at your laptop, that perpetual furrow in your brows was nowhere to be seen.

𓆩⟡𓆪

He broke through another one of your walls when he walked into the office after a late class to pick up something he’d forgotten to take with him the day before, only to be stopped short when he saw you crying quietly at your desk.

He froze at the door, his grip on his phone nearly slipping. You were sitting in your chair facing away from the door with your face buried in your palms and your body trembling with quiet sobs. Your sniffles echoed through the quiet room, restrained like you didn’t want to allow yourself to cry even when you were alone.  

He didn’t realize he was moving until he was standing right behind you and brushing your shoulder with his hand. You jumped with a gasp, your head whipping around at him. 

He still remembers the way your eyes were wide and rimmed red, glassy under the single lamp lit at your desk. There were tear stains on your flushed cheeks and your lips were trembling with contained sobs.

The thought slapped him without announcement: you look pretty. But this looked wrong. Like weakness wasn’t meant to be worn in your eyes.

“Jongseob,” your voice brought him out of his internal panic, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to from you. You quickly turned away, frantically wiping at your eyes.

“S-Sorry!” He stumbled as he took a step back. “I just came to pick up something.”

“Well, take it and go then. It’s late, you shouldn’t be here.” Your voice is back to the steel that he’s used to from you, the change from mere seconds ago so seamless that he started to question if you were even crying in the first place. You didn’t meet his eyes. You stared down your desk with your hair curtaining your face, like a defense to physically shut him out too.

But he didn’t budge. “Are you okay?”

He expected you to yell at him again. To tell him it was none of his business, or to actually shove him away. But you remained quiet.

Until your shoulders started to tremble again and your breaths started to sound stuttered. Then, in a voice so quiet, so weak that it made you seem so small, you told him, “No.”

He didn’t think twice before he sat himself down on the floor beside your chair. But he stayed silent. He let you cry and kept you company until you finally opened up to him for the first time.

“It’s not just a club to me,” you said through quiet sniffles. His words came echoing back to him and he couldn’t hold back his cringe. He looked up at you and saw you still staring at your desk with a distant gaze. He kept quiet and gave you the space to continue. It took a few more moments for you to. “I’ve wanted to be a writer for my entire life. My dad thinks it’s a waste of time. That my career is a waste of time. That my choices are misguided.

“I was just on the phone with him. I mean, I’ve heard everything he said a million times already but—“ You broke off, your eyes watering with a fresh wave of tears. “But it still hurts to know I’m somehow worth less to him than my siblings because I don’t want to follow in his path.”

He understood it then. Kind of. Why you ran the club like the military. You had something to prove to not only your family but to yourself.

Jongseob pulled himself up to his feet and slid the box of tissues on your desk closer to you. “He’s wrong,” he stated. Your eyes lifted back on him, searching, and he felt his throat close in. He still pushed the words out. “Your passion doesn’t make you anything less than your family just because it’s different. It’s what makes you you.”

There was a small uptick of your lips and it made him feel like he should do a backflip. Your smile, something he’s never seen on you, is pretty too, even if it’s a tiny thing.

“I know that,” you said, and he blushed in fear that he just sounded corny. “But thank you.”

That felt like all the validation he needed that he was doing something right. That he really was beginning to work you open, bit by bit, and piece you together, bit by bit.

You didn’t stick around after that. You gathered your things quietly and left after wishing him a rare goodnight, leaving him standing in the room feeling a little off-kilter.

This side of you, vulnerable and small, was so different from what he was used to. Different from anything anyone has ever seen, he was pretty sure. 

And he couldn’t help but feel like he’d already won. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

The next few meetings were different. You were different. You were still as icy and stern as before, but when it came to him, you were different. Less sharp around the edges. You’d started looking to him for opinions, something that took everyone else by surprise. And you’d started asking him to take on tasks instead of just dropping them on him, though he still knew he can’t say no. He appreciated the change in tone regardless. And he didn’t let this development go to waste.

He’d started frequently offering to stay behind with you to finish final drafts when things got heavier for you. He told himself it was to further his little bet but he moreso just wanted to figure out how much more he could unravel you.

It became a routine after the first few times. A routine with coffee and sometimes takeout if you stayed back long enough. And conversations became more casual and less business.

“Lambda Chi Alpha,” you repeated over the lip of your coffee, narrowing your eyes at him. You took a slow sip, leaving him squirming a little under your calculating gaze. “You’re friends with Keeho and Theo?”

“Unfortunately,” he answered lightly, stirring the cup in his hand. “I’d say more roommates. I kind of just have to put up with them.”

You raised a brow at him. “So you’re not like them is what you’re saying?”

“Depends on what you define as ‘like them’.”

“Loud, arrogant, full-of-themself, disrespectful if you don’t immediately bend to their whims?”

He took a deep breath at your apt deduction. “Yup,” he said through a sharp exhale. “I’m saying that I’m precisely not like them.”

Then you laughed softly, a sound that echoes in his mind to this day. 

“I can tell,” you said with a smile that he became more familiar with, more fond of.

It had made his heart stutter a bit. Nerves, he told himself, because he needed to act soon. He could hear Theo’s voice in his head reminding him that the end of the month is near and there wasn’t a date in sight.

It was the perfect moment to make that step. The articles had been submitted, there were no near deadlines looming over you, midterms were still some time away, and the atmosphere of the late afternoon was cozy.

He took a breath. It was now or never. “Hey—“

“Can I ask—“ You paused when you realized you'd just talked over him. “Sorry, go ahead.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, it’s alright,” he said with a smile, leaning forward on his chair. He had moved to the desk next to you, so the distance between you both was only a few feet. “I can wait for you,” he adds, a little flirtatious, and it had you flushing at the cheeks. 

This had been another one of his developments; you flustered easily. Something he’d been using to his advantage more recently. And you didn’t seem to mind, almost played into them in fact.

You cleared your throat, sitting up straight. “Alright,” you started, fidgeting with your cup. “I’ve never done this before but… I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime.” You were staring at your cup as you said it with a nervous candour, another thing he wasn’t used to seeing you with. “Like on a date.”

Jongseob could actually do a back flip right then with the energy that shot through him. When you finally looked up and met his grin with one of your own, he got that familiar feeling again— like he’d just won.

𓆩⟡𓆪

One date turned to two, then to three, then to five. The fifth one was the one where he found himself in front of your dorm room, dropping you off safely to wrap up your arcade date from where he learned you were just as competitive as he was and even more scary if there were prizes to be won.

You were easy to be with, he found. So easy when you weren’t hiding away behind walls. You were insightful, witty, smart, funny in an unexpected way, and you were into the same games as he was, funnily enough. 

You clicked. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of things together. And he watched you change for the better. Watched you smile more now that you finally had someone’s shoulder to lean on, less burdened on your own. 

He learned more about your upbringing, about your family, about why your ambition was both your armour and your weapon.

Every little thing he found out about you helped the puzzle of you become clearer and clearer by the day. More than ever, he didn’t want to stop figuring you out.

“You didn’t have to come all the way up,” you told him as you fumbled with your keys to unlock the door.

He leaned against the wall beside your door, watching the smile you were struggling to smother on your lips. “Just being a gentleman.” 

Truthfully, he didn’t really want the date to end just yet so he’d offered to walk you up rather than leave you off at the entrance of your building like he’d done the other times.

It got a laugh out of you as you finally unlocked the door. But you didn’t go inside just yet, you hovered by him instead. “Jongseob,” you said, looking up at him. “Do you want to come inside?”

His breath caught in his throat and he was pretty sure his heart had just combusted in his chest. “Inside?” He asked, just to make sure he hadn’t heard you wrong.

You smiled, a shy, pretty thing. “Yeah. If you want to.”

He swallowed back the tangle of nerves and excitement that climbs up his throat. “Yeah,” he said without much thought. Because he wanted to.

When you kissed him for the first time, the farthest thing on his mind was the bet. All he thought of was the plush of your lips against his and the sweetness of your scent muddling his brain of everything but you. 

And when you brought him to your bed, he forgot about the bet all together, all his thoughts on the heat of your skin beneath his palms and the sweet sounds of your voice around his name.

It was when he was laying on his back trying to piece himself together after and you had told him you’d never been with anyone else that the guilt had sunk its claws into his ribs. And it didn’t let go for the following months to come.

𓆩⟡𓆪

“Dude!” Keeho yelled, running up from behind, slamming his hands down on Jongseob’s shoulder and stopping him on his way to the club office. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing but well-fucking-done.”

Theo appeared beside Jongseob and slapped a hand to his back that had him nearly knocking into Keeho. “Turns out the bitch does have a heart,” Theo mused, and Jongseob almost recoiled with the acid that burned at the back of his throat after hearing that.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped.

Theo’s brows raised as he pulled his hand back to himself. “Woah. Didn’t realize it was that serious.”

“It’s not,” Jongseob said quickly, pushing Keeho’s hands off of him. “But she’s really not all that you make her out to be. She’s just got a lot of shit to deal with, alright?”

“And that gives her the right to treat everyone around her like shit?” Keeho asked, crossing his arms.

That rubbed the wrong nerve and Jongseob couldn’t hold himself back. “Oh, and you’re so much better?” Even after the words left his mouth, he still didn’t regret it.

Keeho’s expression soured and he took a step forward. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jongseob was taller but he was also much skinnier so he should feel threatened, but he couldn’t find himself caring enough to. “I just mean you haven’t exactly given her the easiest of times either.”

Theo got in between them before anything could start. He fixed Jongseob with a reprimanding look. “Watch it,” he said, nearly scowling. “Are you saying you actually like her?”

Honestly, it wasn’t something he could answer. He didn’t know if the feelings he had towards you were real or if this whole bet thing had illusioned them up for the success of his own greed. But all he knew was that he came to respect you as a person, whether it was romantic or not.

“Does it matter?” Is what Jongseob settled for as an answer. “The bet’s still on.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Being with you was the easiest thing Jongseob had ever done. It was also the thing that burrowed a stone deep in his ribs, one that ached and throbbed with guilt every time he was with you. 

The late days at the office were all that he looked forward to three times a week besides your dates. The ones where you spent half the time deep diving into obscure topics just to argue with each other about it, all in the name of friendly competition. It was the most fun that he found himself having in his otherwise mundane life. It was the thing that he thought back on most of his day as he completed his chores.

Soul had caught Jongseob smiling to himself in the laundry room as he hummed a tune of an album you’d shown him and folded his laundry. 

“Have you told her about the bet yet?”

Jongseob nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. He whipped around to glare at Soul. “Jesus, Shota! A warning, please!”

Soul seemed unbothered. “Have you told her about the bet yet?”

The stone in his ribs started to feel heavy and jagged. “No, why would I?” He asked. He felt the sharp sting in his chest, the same feeling he got whenever the topic was brought up.

Soul yanked his Pikachu head-band off his head and chucked it at Jongseob’s.

Jongseob barely dodged it before he turned to glare again at Soul. “Okay, what the fuck.”

“You’re an idiot,” is all Soul said as he picked up his handband from the floor and stomped away. 

Jongseob stared at Soul’s retreating figure, befuddled.

“What he means to say is that this is a bad idea.”

Jongseob jumped again and whipped around to see Jiung enter the laundry room through the other door with his bin of clothing.

“I need to put a bell on you people,” Jongseob grumbled to himself as he returned to folding his laundry, added with an aggressive flare this time. “Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jiung leaned against the washing machine with his arms crossed and a frown on his face, one almost like he was scolding. “I think you do. You like this girl.”

Jongseob’s movements faltered for a short moment before he started gathering his clothes in his basket, figuring he would just fold them up in his room. “I don’t.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes!” He snapped, then flinched back, taken aback by his own volume.

“…Right.”

Jongseob didn’t even have to look at Jiung to know that he’d lost the conversation, so he tucked tail and left.

𓆩⟡𓆪

The panic built up inside of him for the next month. It had been over two months that you’ve been dating and a month since you’d become exclusive. There were only three weeks left until he won the bet. But he didn’t feel any close to winning, because he had come to the terrible realization that he was in love with you. But it wasn’t a reality he could accept knowing what he knew; how this whole thing had started. He didn’t even care about winning the bet anymore. He just wanted to know how he could keep you.

He could come clean. But that would mean losing you. He could hide it all. But that would mean he’d lose himself.

Soul and Jiung’s disappointed faces flashed behind his eyes as he dropped his head to his desk. He sat there, stewing in the despair of his own curation, until he felt a hand in his hair, gentle and grounding.

He looked up to be met with your concerned face peering down at him. “You okay?”

He leaned into your touch, sighing at the way your nails scratch against his scalp. “M’okay,” he mumbled, feeling all his panic drain away with just a simple touch from you. “Just stressed about finals, that’s all.”

“Aw,” you cooed softly, dragging your nails down to the back of his head, a motion that had him shuddering. “Wanna come to my place and study?”

He opened his eyes and gave you a cheeky smile. “Study?” He asked, swivelling his chair to face you. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in to stand between his legs. “Isn’t that what you said last time?”

You rolled your eyes as your hands fell to his shoulders, but you were smiling. “You’re the one who started that. You were the distracting one, not me.”

He laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your stomach, the closest part of you he could reach with his lips. It always went like this; he would agonize over his predicament whenever he was left to his thoughts but would forget all about it the second you were nearby.

“I heard about the party your frat’s hosting the weekend after next,” you said, playing with the string of his hoodie. “How come you haven’t invited me yet?”

The truth was he didn’t want you interacting with any of his friends. It would make his situation too real. It felt comfortably hypothetical currently.

“I didn’t think it was your scene,” he answered instead, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs, firm against your shirt.

“It’s not,” you agreed. “But you’re going to be there. And it’s the last party before the year ends so… I dunno.” You were being shy again, averting your eyes and chewing on your lip, and he was overwhelmed with fondness. “I kind of wanna be there with you.”

He couldn’t help the grin pulling at his lips. “You wanna be there for me?” He teased, yanking you right back in when you groan and try to pull away. “In that case, I want you there.” He could never deny you, it felt physically impossible to.

You visibly relaxed at that, your shoulders slumping. “Oh, good,” you said with a small smile. “For a second I was worried you were, like, embarrassed by me or something.”

His smile fell immediately. “Embarrassed?” He asked in disbelief. “Why would I be embarrassed by you?”

You shrugged, averting your eyes again as you tie and untie the strings of his hoodie. “You’ve never introduced me to your friends. And I’m not an airhead, I know what people think of me.”

He tensed at your admission, that festering guilt rooting deeper and slithering down to his gut. He distracted himself by pulling you in closer, bringing you down to straddle his lap.

“They just don’t know you like I do,” he stated, snaking his arms around your waist. Then he smiled, light and playful, juxtaposed to how he was feeling on the inside. “But I kind of like being the only one to have this side of you.”

He celebrated internally when that brought the smile back onto your lips. “Corny,” you said through your tinkling laugh. “Possessive. An idiot is what you are.”

“The luckiest one,” he said, and then he kisses you to numb the way his insides twist at the lie. He was the unluckiest lucky person to exist. 

Luck had brought him to you but luck becomes the thing that takes you away just the same.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Bringing you to that party was the most foolish thing he could have done, he realizes now.

⸝⸝

Introducing you to Jiung was the right way to start at least, he’d thought as he watched the two of you chat in the kitchen, away from the crowd. When Soul got thrown into the mix, you were immediately endeared by him, giggling at his strange antics. It was the first time he’s seen you so at ease around others, so open to expressing around them. You had told him earlier that it was his presence with you that helped you stay at ease.

A hand to his shoulder snapped his eyes away from the scene and to Intak. 

“Dude,” Intak said, already slurring. “Your girl looks hot. Better treat her real nice with the money you’re get—“

Jongseob didn’t let him finish before he got his hand slammed over his big mouth and pushed him out of the kitchen. 

“Are you insane?!” Jongseob whisper-yelled at Intak’s frightened eyes. He pulls his hand back from Intak’s. “Don’t talk about that when she’s around, you idiot—“

“Don’t talk about what?”

Jongseob whipped around so fast he nearly threw himself off balance and knocked himself into Intak.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, moving to you and wrapping his arm around your waist. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was quickly beginning to realize what a mistake it was to bring you here. “Let’s go out for some fresh air, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed easily, then looked at Intak who smiled charmingly at you and even gave you a little bow. You didn’t seem all that impressed though. “Hwang Intak, right?”

Intak’s eyes lit up instantly. “You know me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Jongseob coughed to smother his laugh when Intak’s face fell just as quick. “Come on, don’t start a fight with my roommates,” he said playfully to you as he started to pull you away. 

You moved along with him as he started steering you towards the top floor for the balcony. “I could take him.”

“Sure you can,” he said fondly as he weaved through the crowds in the halls.

He felt lucky that it was so crowded. Maybe enough so that you wouldn’t run into the two devils that had been sitting comfortably on his shoulder the past few months.

But it’s already been established that he was the unluckiest lucky guy.

Because as soon as he rounded the corner to the stairs, Keeho and Theo were on their way down, attached at the hip like they always were. 

“Look who it is!” Keeho said with a wide grin as he stopped a few steps above you. 

Theo had a subtle smirk on his lips, one that Jongseob knew meant trouble. He felt suddenly like they’ve just been thrown into the wolves’ den. 

“We were just going to go to the balcony,” Jongseob said tightly. “For some air.”

“For some air,” Theo repeated, before turning to you. 

You looked like this is the last place you’d want to be. But you mustered up a pleasant smile, like you’re trying to keep the peace for Jongseob’s sake.

“Nice to see you guys,” you said, albeit stiffly. Everyone knew it was bullshit but Jongseob still appreciated the gesture. 

Theo scoffed. “It still throws me off how you’re so pleasant all of a sudden.”

Jongseob squeezed your hand as a silent plea to back down, scared that these two might just be the spark you need to revert back to your icy ways.

But you didn’t bite the bait; you kept your control as you tilted your head at Theo and furrowed your brows in constructed confusion. 

“Oh? I thought that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Your voice sounded steady though the implication of your words are loud. “I mean, that’s what I always hear from you two. That I’ve got a stick up my ass and whatnot. I thought I was doing everyone a favour by diverting to my pleasant ways but it looks like you two can’t be satisfied, can you?” You clicked your tongue in mock disappointment. “I guess you always need something to be miserable about.”

Keeho’s grin was faint now but it was still there with a barely restrained scowl. “I see you’ve still got a bite. But I wouldn’t be so arrogant about this if I were you.”

Theo took the last couple steps down to level with you and Jongseob. “You don’t know it yet but,” he paused to lean forward, his smirk pulling up to a deceptively warm smile. “You should really be thanking us for your new look for that.”

Jongseob’s heart was in his throat. He saw the way your face contorted with real confusion, and the way you were about to ask about it but Jongseob was quick to push past Theo and Keeho to climb the stairs. 

“Come on, just ignore them,” he told you as he pulled you along. 

The fresh air did little to soothe the heat prickling at his skin. But your arms snaking around from behind him while you press yourself against his back, did.

“Are you okay?” Came from your gentle voice, breath brushing against his ear as you pressed your chin to his shoulder.

He took a deep breath to ease down his rattling heart. “Better now,” he said as he turned in your arms and wrapped his arms around your neck.

You smiled up at him as he brushed back the hair bristling over your forehead with the wind. “I like your friends. Shota and Jiung, I mean,” you added quickly with a scrunch of your nose. “Not the others.”

He snorted, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. The moon is full and the stars are bright. He should have felt welcomed by them, they should have made this moment feel nicer. But he just felt mocked by them. Like they were saying that a moment this peaceful, with the girl he wanted in his arms, could never be his. It wasn’t really his, even if he was living it right now. It would never be his until he bares his truth to them.

“Jongseob,” you whispered, and he tilted his head back down. 

That unreadable look in your eyes, the one that’s been more frequent the past few weeks, was back. 

And suddenly he felt too raw, too exposed by the light of the moon and the stars.

“Yes?” He asked, feeling his heart slowly climb its way back up his throat.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He felt every fiber of his being go rigid. He couldn’t swallow his heart back down this time. “What do you mean?” His voice sounded distant from himself, like it was coming out of someone else.

You started to pull away but he kept his arms tight enough that you couldn’t put too much distance. Distance that he fears might be permanent if he lets it manifest.

The pinch between your brows was back as you chose your words. “You’ve been a little… distant these past few weeks. Hidden, more like. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

His breaths were starting to become harder to regulate. Of course you’d noticed something was up. You were one of the smartest people he knew. How could he think he could hide anything from you?

“Is it something I said?” You asked when he didn’t respond, your eyes wide and searching as they flickered between his. “Or something I did?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hands sliding down to catch your arms. “No, no you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?”

This was his chance to come clean. He wanted to, he desperately wanted to. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out, fear trapping the words in his throat. The fear of losing you was greater than his need to come clean.

You were starting to look increasingly defeated as you waited, as you pleaded him with your eyes.

“Please,” you breathed after another moment of silence. “Please don’t tell me I fell in love with the wrong person.”

The world felt like it tilted on his axis as that word that slipped from your lips trapped itself in his brain and rattled around. His breaths ceased and his hands lost their grip on your arms.

“Love?” He whispered, the word tumbling out of his lips without his permission. 

You dropped your gaze to his chest and it was like he could almost see the way your walls started to climb back into place. “I love you, Jongseob,” you said, clear as the night sky above. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you want. And I’m sorry if it’s too soon. But I needed to say it. I’ve wanted to say it for a couple weeks now.” You stepped out of his space and he was too weak to stop you this time, his strength zapped out of his body along with every other feeling. 

“I love you,” you repeated it, like a final blow to his heart.

He was numb as he turned around and walked back inside. He could hear you calling his name behind him but he didn’t stop. He pushed his way through the crowd, frantic as he searched the rooms.

When he saw Theo, he zeroed right in on him. He grabbed him by the arm, ignoring his protests as he yanked him out to the front porch. 

“Jongseob, what the hell is up with you?!” Theo cried as he was shoved up against the wall, Jongseob’s fists curled tight into his shirt collars. 

“The bet,” Jongseob seethed. He felt almost manic, wouldn’t be surprised if he looked like it too if Theo’s vaguely terrified expression was anything to go by. “I want out. Fuck you and your stupid money, I want none of it.”

He was angry. And he was taking it out on Theo. But that didn’t make sense because he was angry at himself more than anything but there was too much going on in his brain for things to make any sense.

Theo tried to shove him back but Jongseob pushed him back hard into the bricks, overbearing from the adrenaline. “Listen to me!” He yelled. Theo’s eyes widened as they flicker between him and over his shoulder. Jongseob could hear the commotion of people gathering behind him but he didn’t care whose eyes were there. “You don’t speak a fucking word about the bet, you hear me?” He whispered the words right into Theo’s face, seeped in uncontained rage. “None of it. If she finds out at all, hears any fucking peep of it, you’re the one I’m coming for first. You get me?” He pushed Theo’s harder against the wall, making him wince in pain. His fists were knuckle white in Theo’s shirt and shaking from the force. He was shaking everywhere. “Say one word and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Theo could only stare at him, fear unbridled in his eyes. 

“Jongseob.”

The name didn’t come from Theo’s lips. It came from a voice that has him going cold all over.

His hand dropped like deadweight at his sides and he turned like someone else was pulling the strings attached to his body.

The look on your face was like the one he saw on you when he first met you. Cold. Distant. Walled.

“Was I a bet, Jongseob?” You asked him. Your voice was stable. It was calculated. Reserved. Just like before.

All he could do was stare and watch the flashes of the moments he had with you flicker behind his eyelids.

“Tell me,” you started again, voice rising with each second that passed by. “Was I a bet? Was I a fucking bet?”

His throat felt dry as he spoke. “Yes.”

That pit of guilt in his ribs lifted as the admission left his lips. In its place sat grief, because he knew that this was the end of it.

But that still didn’t stop him from trying. 

He tried to say your name, to reach for you but you were already gone. His feet felt weighted to the ground as he watched your figure push through the crowd of people he didn’t realize had formed around the scene.

He felt a hand shove at his back, pulling him out of whatever trance he was in. His head whipped back to see Theo reaching out to shove him again. “Go after her,” he urged, shoving him again. “Go!”

That snapped Jongseob into action. He turned and sprinted after you, shoving past the wall of people and yelling your name.

He could see your figure in the distance. You didn’t turn his way, you just kept walking. Eventually he caught you by the arm and pulled you back to him. 

“Wait—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” You yelled immediately, throwing his arm off of you. There were tears streaming down your face, tracking eyeliner down your cheeks. Your face was twisted in agony and it hit him like a spear to the chest the realization that it was because of him.

“Just— please!” He caught both of your arms this time. He was still shaking and his eyes were blurry and his head was spinning but the one thing he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. “Let me explain!”

“We’re done,” you seethed, pulling yourself back but the grip he had on your arms was iron. “Let me go.”

“I love you!” He yelled, and you finally stopped struggling. He pulled you towards him, holding you firmly in his space. “I love you, I really do, you have to believe that.” He knew tears were streaming down his face and this was far from the ideal state that he wanted to be telling you that in. But he was done hiding. “I love you.”

You were watching every word fall from his lips, your expression falling neutral even despite the tears still welling your eyes. “You love me?” You asked, quiet enough that your voice is nearly drowned out by the rustling trees above you. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have lied to me.”

A sob wracked through his body, his fingers digging desperately into your skin. But you didn’t flinch or pull away, content to watch him drown in his miseries. “I was scared,” he whispered through a wet breath. “I was so scared. I knew I would lose you. But I swear, it just started off as a bet, but-but then I got to know you and I got to see you— the real you— and it’s something I never could have imagined. I fell for you. So hard.” 

He was sobbing through his words and he wasn’t even sure if you could understand him but he couldn’t contain any of it. He let it all out, desperate that you’d see him through all of it. 

“I love you,” he said, trembling from head to toe, breaths tumbling out in stutters, chest heaving with sobs. It was ugly, but it was honest. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

You were quiet for a long moment, just watching, picture-still like a pretty statue.

“Please,” he tried again, stepping closer and pressing his forehead down to yours.

“Jongseob,” you said, and your voice was so gentle that it lit a flicker of hope in his chest, fragile and dangerous.

Your hand reached up to brush the tears on his cheek. The touch felt like a reprieve; he melted into it, turned into it, and sought out the warmth of your palm against his nose and lips, cold from the chilly air. Your hand slid down, slow as your thumb carved out the slope of his nose then the bow of his lips. He breathed in your scent, sweet and familiar, and it fed the flicker in his chest. 

“I can’t stay,” you said, and just like that, that flicked of hope snuffed out into nothing. “Not when I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t.”

Another sob wracked through his body as your hand fell away. “It was real,” he said, trying to catch your hand again but you pulled it away before he could. You stepped back until all that was left was your arm still clutched in his hand like a lifeline. “It was all real. I swear it on my life, it was real.”

Your face crumbled as you took his wrist in your free hand. “Not to me,” you said, and all the strength in his body left again. You pushed his hand off of you and he let it fall without a fight. “Not anymore.”

He was helpless to watch you fade away into the night. He wasn’t sure when he'd fallen to his knees but the ground was cold beneath him. It seeped up his leg and traversed through all his limbs, keeping him trapped there as it wrapped like a cage around his heart, squeezing down until he couldn't feel anymore.

𓆩⟡𓆪

It’s been four months exactly now since that fateful night in the LCA living room. Now he sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the first article he wrote for you and you’d refused to read, trembling in his hands.

It’s been a week now that you’ve walked out of his life. Ten days since the last time he got to sit with you in that office. Seven days since he’s last kissed you. Seven days since he last heard his name from your lips.

You’ve become a ghost. His texts lay unanswered. His phone calls all lead to a wall. And when he thinks he catches a glimpse of you around campus, you’re gone in the blink of an eye like an apparition made to keep his heart in throes.

He knows where to find you three times a week. But the thought of stepping anywhere near that room sends his stomach into twists.

The fact that he’s pretty sure he flunked his last few finals wasn’t even enough to take his mind off you. Nothing seems to matter now that he’s lost what could’ve been something great, something real.

And all he has to show for it now is this article and the memory of you.

“Burn it.”

His head lifts to see Jiung at the doorway, Soul hovering behind him. The looks on their faces just make him feel worse, caged.

Jongseob’s hands curl tighter into the papers. “Why?” His voice is hollow, just like the rest of him.

Jiung crosses the room in a few strides, picks up the trash bin by Jongseob’s desk and fishes out a lighter from his pockets. He places the bin on the floor in front of where Jongseob sits and drops the lighter on his lap.

Jongseob stares down at it blankly.

“You need to forget about her,” Jiung says gently, taking a seat beside him. “She’s not coming back.”

The words sting, no matter how true. But burning it would make everything feel too real and too final.

Soul sits on his other side, pressing close and dropping his head on his shoulder. The warmth is welcome after days of cold isolation. “It will be good for you,” he says quietly.

“I don’t want to.”

Jiung sighs and runs a palm down his back, a motion meant to soothe but just felt overwhelming. “If you don’t, you’ll just keep hurting.”

“Well maybe I deserve it,” Jongseob says, defeated. He can’t imagine how he thought he would come out of this victorious. “Why did I do something so stupid?”

“It wasn’t all your fault,” Jiung reasons. “Keeho and Theo pushed you.”

“But it was still my choice,” he snaps, then flinches back. “Sorry.”

Soul places a hand around Jongseob’s wrist and squeezes. “All you can do is move on now.”

Move on. Easier said than done.

“I don’t know how.”

Jiung takes the lighter abandoned on Jongseob’s lap and places it in his hand. “Start with this.”

His fingers wrap weakly around the lighter; it feels like a weight in his palm. This is starting to feel almost like a funeral, he thinks morosely. Like a last send off.

But he knows Jiung and Soul are right. Holding onto this would mean holding onto you. And you had long let go of him.

He flicks on the lighter and brings it to the corners of the pages, watching as the flames lick up the ivory and graphite. He lets it spread up and up, dropping it into the bin when he feels the heat first touch his fingertips.

Jongseob sits there, recalling the story of you and him as he watches the last remnant of you wither away to ashes.

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you couldn’t contain your nervousness sitting at the table, trying to do post-game media availability without making it too obvious how pissed and antsy you were.

much to her dismay, paige reluctantly told the trainers that she had a headache immediately following your team’s post-game locker room talk. she knew that if she didn’t say anything, you would, so it was probably better if she just did it herself so you didn’t make it sound worse than it was.

since paige wasn’t available, the media team had asked you to step in for the media availability, especially after your little outburst on the court. but you didn’t want to be sitting there next to your coach who was useless and stupid for that stunt he pulled, keeping her in the game. apparently it was obvious to everyone but him that paige was the type of player to pretend nothing was wrong in those instances, needing the coach to step in and take her away.

“can you talk about what happened on the court today? we’ve never seen you so fired up like that before,” one of the reporters asks.

you almost laugh from bitterness, but you manage to keep your expressions pretty contained. 

“uh,” you started, staring down at the table and not making eye contact, “emotions were high. it was an intense game, no doubt about that, and i was definitely feeling it.”

the answer was vague and honestly, didn’t answer the question at all, but you hoped that would be good enough. that it would be a sign that you didn’t want to talk about it right now out of fear that you may say something you regret. it wasn’t.

“right, but you’re not usually the type to yell like that. what caused it?” the same person asked. 

“you know, sometimes we all just get a little frustrated and it comes off more fiery than intended,” you answered, your tone just barely dripping in sass. it was intended, though. maybe not when you were speaking to paige, but definitely to coach.

“it looked like you were frustrated with paige,” someone else started. “during the third quarter, you seemed to have a moment and hugged it out, though. can you talk about that?”

you glanced up at the reporter asking the question, then at chris, then trained your gaze back down onto the table, your leg shaking violently while you did so.

“yeah, i just had to remind her that i still love her despite being frustrated with the way things were going. just mid-game intensity, no big deal,” you replied as you looked up again and gave a tight-lipped smile.

and media couldn’t get over fast enough. after what felt like years, you were able to finally get back to the locker room for a quick shower and to change.

when you got on the bus that was taking the team to the airport, you sat in the front, not even bothering to see where she was sitting. not that it really mattered though, there were enough rows that you wouldn’t have sat in the same one anyway. 

it was the same thing on the plane too, but it really wasn’t intentional. you weren’t even mad at her either, you were mad at everyone else who handled the situation poorly and the reporters trying to get a rise out of you. sure, she could’ve spoken up, but everyone else on staff should’ve stepped up when they noticed she didn’t–no matter if it was really a concussion or not. getting hit in the head isn’t something to play about.

“hey,” you heard her voice from beside you. 

you and the team were standing on the tarmac, waiting for your luggage to be unloaded so you could get back to your cars. your eyes were trained on the plane, trying to distract yourself from how truly annoyed you were and thinking about how you needed to get away for a little bit to defuse it. 

“hey,” you replied quietly. 

“i’m in concussion protocol.”

you whipped your head to the side to look at her. she looked innocent and vulnerable, like one wrong sentence could set her off into a crying fit. the annoyance and anger quickly melted away at the sight. your shoulders sagged from their tense position as you turned to wrap her into another hug, putting a hand on the back of her head comfortingly. 

“i’m sorry, paige,” you murmured softly into her ear.

“you can say i told you so,” she tried to joke when she finally pulled away after a few moments. “i can’t play the next two games. can’t travel either. they said i’ll be reevaluated on tuesday. i can do limited practice on monday if i feel better, though.”

a sympathetic smile rose to your lips at words. you knew that she might not have a concussion, it was just a precaution, but it didn’t stop the worry from flowing like nobody’s business. and even worse, you knew this was devastating for paige. she was holding it together externally so no one would worry, but she was cracking internally from it. 

you pinched her cheek jokingly making her smile. “i’m not going to tell you i told you so. i was just angry because i care and i worry about you. i don’t care to prove a point.”

as you were talking, the cart with your bags was brought around for the team to take. before paige could even argue or try to grab it herself, you grabbed both of your duffle bags. luckily, neither of you were heavy packers–and this wasn't a long trip anyway–so they were pretty light and easy to carry. you nodded your head in the direction of the building of the airport in a wordless gesture to start walking back with you, which she did.

“thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “could you–um, can i ride home with you? i just–i’m not allowed to drive myself until i’m cleared and we live in the same building. otherwise, one of the trainers has to drive me so–” she cut herself off before finishing her sentence.

honestly, you didn’t know why she was nervous to ask. maybe she thinks you’re still mad at her after not talking to her on the bus and plane, maybe she’s embarrassed of having to be taken care of, or maybe she’s embarrassed to even be in this situation. still, you had driven her so many places and definitely to practice a few times a week, so she shouldn’t be that nervous to ask. not to mention, you had already planned to offer because you assumed she would still try to drive herself home despite the protocol. 

“of course, p,” you replied with a smile. you considered making a joke about how it was a dumb question or something similar, but you assumed this wasn’t the right time for that. sure, paige has a childlike energy and is always cracking jokes, but still. you did think of one joke that would still lighten the mood, though. “i always have room for my favorite passenger princess.”

“i am not a passenger princess,” she protested. her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance at the claim because she thought it was ridiculous (even if it was true), and gave you a side eye. 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at her weak argument–or lack of argument–but still keeping the smile on your face out of amusement. “yeah, you drive so much,” your tone dripping in sarcasm.

“i do!” she cried defensively. she threw her hands in the air in confusion, like this was genuinely the most surprising thing you had ever said, and she seemed genuine too. which is crazy because she definitely did not drive often enough for her to try to defend herself.

“maybe by yourself, but not with me,” you chuckled. she pressed her lips together in a thin line at your words. “you don’t even offer most of the time. you just walk straight to my car.” 

“okay, fine. maybe you do drive all the time, but you know dallas better than me! it’s easier if you just drive,” she admitted, grabbing the door to the airport and holding it open for you. that surprised you, too. usually, she was too stubborn to admit you were right and would argue until you either agreed with her to make it easier or dropped it all together. even though it was annoying that she would do this, you also thought it was cute how dedicated she would be over things that are stupid.

“you’re saying i’m right?” you contorted your face into a shocked expression to sell the joke you were about to make. if your hands were free, you would probably put them over your heart. instead, you changed your shocked expression into a concerned one, shaking your head in fake disbelief. “that’s not like you. the concussion must be really bad. i better take you to the hospital right now.”

she knocked her shoulder with yours lightly, not trying to push you over, but enough for you to take a stabilizing step to the side. you didn’t realize how fast you two were walking until you were approaching the doors that led to the parking lot, but you weren’t that far from them anyway. this time, they were automatic doors, so you walked through them side by side instead of her grabbing it for you.

“you’re so funny,” she replied sarcastically. 

you chose not to reply, so you both walked across the parking lot in a comfortable silence. though, it was abnormal for paige. she usually was running her mouth about anything and everything that possibly came to her mind, so you knew that meant she wasn’t feeling that great. not that you were surprised.

once you finally approached your car, you set your bag down on the concrete behind the trunk, fishing in your pockets for your keys. despite being in pain, she still felt the need to be helpful, so she opened your trunk and put your bag in it once you unlocked it. she reached for her bag in your hand, too. 

“i can do it,” you said as you moved the bag backwards out of her reach.  “i’m the healthy one here. get in the car.” 

she threw her hands up in defense, but did as you said anyway, which you appreciated. you closed the trunk hard, making sure it actually closed, then walked to the driver’s side door to get in. when you finally sat down and shut the door, you paused for a moment to look at paige. she was staring forward like she was zoned out, chewing on both her lips absentmindedly. 

when you didn’t start the car after a few moments, she looked over at you with confused expression filling her features. you tilted your head at her, shooting her a look of sympathy back. her mind was probably running wild with all kinds of thoughts that she would stress about until she could come back, but would also probably still stress about even when she was back. 

“it’ll be okay,” you said, reaching over the console to grab her hand and intertwining your fingers. “hopefully they are being cautious over nothing. you’ll just sit out these next two games, then you’ll be cleared and ready to get back to work.” 

“yeah, i hope so. it would really suck to add my brain to my extensive list of injuries,” she attempted to joke with a laugh, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. she looked down at your hands to try to hide it from you. of course, it didn’t work–you could see right through it.

she was a touchy person–her love language definitely was physical touch, so she was glad that you allowed her to show her appreciation in that way and even did things like holding her hand when she was feeling upset or sad. you made her feel seen and appreciated, especially when she needed it most at this big life transition. you were just glad that she was comfortable enough to express herself like that, even if it meant she was always touching you when she was near you no matter what. 

the comfortability didn’t happen immediately, though. at first, when she would talk to you, her hand lingered in the air between you instead. then, she gradually started patting your arm when she wanted your attention, resting her hands on your shoulders when she talked to you, and resting a hand lightly on your back when you were talking to her. then progressed to things like hugs when she did something well at practice, poking your waist from behind to distract you while you were trying to get shots up, and grabbing your shoulders while you were standing in huddles.

you definitely did not share that love language with her, but if it made her happy, you didn’t mind it. and you definitely weren’t nearly as touchy as her, so it took some getting used to. you would just initiate it by tapping her arm to get her attention every now and then, but would always reciprocate her touch without fail. she didn’t seem to notice that you barely initiated, or if she did, she didn’t mind. it probably helped that you never shook her off either (unless it was as a joke after she was making fun of you, of course).

“i know it’s easier said than done, but please, try not to stress about it too much. give yourself some grace and focus on finally being able to let yourself rest,” you said. you knew you were stating the obvious, but it didn’t hurt to remind her of it to really drill it in her head.

she only nodded her head in reply, keeping her gaze trained on your head to keep her emotions from flowing out of her too forcefully. you definitely could’ve continued the conversation with more things to say about it, but you decided to keep quiet. instead, you pulled your hand away from hers to turn the key and put the car in reverse so you could finally leave.

her grip wasn’t tight enough to prevent you from pulling away, but she kept her hand on her leg with her palm facing up as a hint that she wanted you to grab her hand again. after you backed out of the parking spot and put your car in drive, you reached over the console. 

the ride back to your apartment building was silent except the faint sound of paige’s playlist playing in the background–her phone automatically connected to your carplay every time she got in it. she had turned her head to the side to keep her eyes trained outside the window, either deep in thought or trying to distract herself. you stared ahead, thinking about how worried you were and what people would say.

now that you had calmed down, you could admit that maybe you had overreacted a little. you were never one to yell at all, so you knew that your teammates were definitely surprised. your coach definitely was. paige definitely was. but you couldn’t help it. seeing her go down on the floor and holding her head in pain ignited a whole new type of worry that you don’t know if you had ever experienced before. something that made you want to drop everything and take care of her–nurse her to health. and when she lied about feeling fine? god, you don’t even know if you could even describe how deep the pit in your stomach was–the angry, knowing feeling that she was not okay.

you loved paige. she was your best friend and you would do anything for her, she knew that. you hated when she got hurt in anyway. but you couldn’t help but think about how you were the only person who acted that way about it. sure, your teammates were concerned, but not like you. not enough to cause a scene in the middle of the game yelling at their coach–which would probably end up on espn, or at least be the talk of women’s sports social media pages for a few weeks. they didn’t even say anything about how she should be taken out like you did. 

did you overreact? 

maybe you were just angry about your coach dangerously under-reacting and not her getting hurt in itself. would you have been just as concerned if she was taken out by your coach or the trainers? would it have eaten you up the whole rest of the game in the way? was it really as big of a deal as you made it?

well, yeah, head injuries or potential head injuries are a huge deal, but you still couldn’t help but stress about it.

the stressful thoughts seemed to make time fly by because before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment building. you found your assigned parking spot which was in the corner of the ground floor, pulled in, and put your car in park. you let your free hand fall to your lap as you leaned back in your seat instead of turning it off though.

“will you stay at mine tonight?” you asked suddenly but quietly. 

among the other thoughts swirling in your head, that was another one you had been thinking over asking. there wasn’t any reason for her to need company other than your own peace of mind. this wasn’t necessarily the kind of injury that she needed help moving around with or really any type of assistance at all, but you knew that she was having a hard time. even if she didn’t admit it. not that you didn’t trust her to be alone, but you would still feel better anyway. then she could get some real rest. 

“i mean,” she started hesitantly, looking in your eyes. her unreadable expression softened into something else, something more fond and understanding. “yeah. yeah, that would be good.”

you almost expected her to argue. something about how she’s okay and you have better things to do than take care of her while she sits on her ass, because that’s the way she was. she didn’t want to be burden, and she would nurse herself back to health instead of feeling like one (even if you tried to reassure her that it was okay).

maybe her decision was influenced by the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had stayed over either, so she knew she would be in the guest room instead of on the couch. not that you would’ve offered if the best you could give her was a couch, though. or maybe that didn’t influence her decision at all. maybe she was purely doing it for you, because honestly, it really was more for your sake than hers–to make you feel better about her recovery.

once again, you grabbed your bags from the trunk and carried them inside yourself. she used her key to let you two in the building and held the door open for you after doing so. you gave her a nod of appreciation as you walked through. she pressed the elevator button for your floor, which opened immediately, much to your surprise. when you got in and the door closed, you dropped her bag on the floor and playfully covered her eyes with your hand.

“just putting in my contribution to helping you adhere to protocol,” you said as you raised your hand. “too many bright lights.” 

she blew a laugh out of her nose, shaking her head, and pushing your hand down. you stiffened your arm to fight her for a few seconds, but ultimately let her push it down. “bruh, we literally just played in an arena. be so for real.”

“exactly. you’ve reached your limit for today,” you replied, picking up her bag off the floor again. 

the elevator dinged, indicating you had finally reached your floor, and you shuffled out first with her following close behind. luckily, you were only a few doors down from the elevator so it wasn’t too far of a walk. 

before she could insist to open it for you, you dropped her bag again to grab your keys from your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly. though, she swiped her bag up before you could reach for it again with a goofy grin on her face. you didn’t argue, though, you knew she could’ve been carrying it this whole time because it wasn’t that heavy. 

“the room is still set up from the last time you stayed,” you said casually, throwing your bag haphazardly in the living room to grab later, shrugging your backpack off your back and throwing it in the same direction too.

“ew, you’re making me sleep on dirty sheets?” she replied, scrunching her nose like that was the most disgusting thing she had ever heard.

“you literally only slept on them once since i last washed them. are you saying you’re dirty?” you shot back, raising your eyebrows in a challenge. you knew that had been an argument between her and azzi at uconn–who was messier or dirtier–and they argued about it more often than you would think. honestly, you would say she wasn’t that messy, but maybe she’s cleaned up her act since then. 

“nah,” she said, shaking her head. “i’m clean as hell.” 

“then what did you do on those sheets to make them dirty?” you asked innocently, tilting your head slightly. 

her cheeks flushed at the implication in your words, suggesting that she had done something sexual in your guest bed. it definitely was not the case, but her physical reaction wasn’t pleading her innocence very well. her hands shot up in defense before she replied.

“nothing! i just–i slept on them! nothing else. i didn’t do anything. that’s weird,” she said quickly. maybe it was a little too quickly, but the sudden awkwardness of the subject was making her nervous. 

“yeah, okay,” you replied sarcastically like you didn’t believe her, your lips forming into a tight smile and your eyes widening. “doesn’t really sound like you didn’t do anything, but i guess the law i have to follow is innocent until proven guilty. i can’t really prove you’re guilty.” 

“you’re mean to me,” she pouted, her lip jutting out slightly. 

“you love it,” you said with a grin. 

“because i have to.”

the rest of the night was no different than any usual hangout between the two of you. you ordered in food from doordash; normally, you would’ve insisted that it was your treat, but she was a partner. obviously, you were going to use her account for the good deals that came along with that. and of course, she insisted that she get to pick because it was her account, even throwing the extra argument of her having a concussion. not that you minded, you were going to let her pick anyway for that very reason.

she managed to convince you to watch a movie while you ate despite needing to limit her screen time, but she said either you watched it on television or she would watch it on her ipad. you decided to pick your battles because having the ipad close to her face would definitely be worse, but you made her promise that she would put the screens away after it finished. she agreed, but you knew that it was just to shut you up and she would still try. 

almost immediately following the movie, you both excused yourself to bed. you followed behind her in the hallway, stopping at the guest room because it came first before your bedroom. before she could put her hand on the knob to open it, you tapped her shoulder to grab her attention. once she turned to face you, you wrapped your arms around her waist in a hug. she melted into your touch, wrapping her arms around your shoulders without any hesitation and burying her face in your neck. 

“everything will be okay,” you whispered, rubbing circles into her back slowly. “get some rest, p.”

she sighed as you pulled away, her expression looking significantly more defeated than it did five minutes ago. she didn’t verbally reply, though, just nodded and opened the door to the room. you didn’t wait for it to close before you were walking to your own room, closing the door softly behind you. 

you rubbed your hands over your face once it closed, exhausted from the physically and mentally tiring day. after peeling off your travel clothes to replace them with pajamas, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants now in a pile on the floor and crawled into your soft, comfy bed–not even bothering to throw the clothes in the hamper where they belong. you hoped that paige still had leftover pajamas in the dresser of that room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to check and make sure.

instead, you opened twitter. this was something you never did immediately following a game in fear of the hate comments about how bad you played and how you need to be kicked off, because there would always be those no matter how well you played–how many points you scored, or steals you got, or rebounds, or free throws made. this time, you couldn’t help it because of the events of the game.

and the very first one you spot when you look up your name in the search bar, then clicked latest, was a photo of you and paige hugging during that free-throw. the actual tweet attached to it?

do they know it’s legal

you blew a laugh out of your nose in amusement at the joke. admittedly, the hug did look pretty intimate without context, but you two were close off the court. so was it really that surprising? you clicked the back button to keep scrolling. 

unprofessional af who yells at their coach like that

you didn’t disagree for sure, but it was unprofessional the way they handled her getting hit in the head, so you didn’t really care. and there were comments under it defending you for that.

it was justified imo the coach should’ve taken paige off immediately

well the was unprofessional so who cares

someone who is pissed that their coach doesn’t gaf?

there were all kinds of tweets criticizing the way coach chris handled the situation, talking about how he clearly doesn’t care about his players, and more stuff like that. you definitely didn’t think they were wrong, but you were careful not to accidentally like any of those tweets to keep yourself from being involved in drama. 

you didn’t really know what you were expecting from scrolling besides maybe some criticism over how you handled it, and criticism how the coach handled it, but you didn’t expect the tweets you saw. there were many, many tweets speculating about how you two were definitely more than just friends or teammates because you reacted to so strongly.

the way y/n looks at paige like she’s the only girl in the world

wherever y/n is, paige is #noticing

i have a theory that they’re in love 

yeah idk if her yelling at the coach like that was something u would do for just a friend

i’ve been thinking they’re in love but this just solidified it

there were hundreds more of them, too. and they went beyond just that game. people were pulling footage from earlier games, pictures and videos from practice, and pictures and videos from when you two were out in public, and the footage from the few times you two did your tunnel entrance together to find any detail they could use to prove that it was more than a friendship. 

you scrolled for a while, getting way too deep in theories about yourself, giggling at particularly funny ones and ignoring the hate, trying not to think about why everyone thought you and paige were together. sure, she had definitely earned the title of your best friend, but you had never really thought of her as anything more. right?

you definitely thought she was pretty, but that was obvious. anyone with eyes could see that she was a gorgeous girl. and she was definitely the full package–funny, caring, sweet, kind, loving. there were a lot of things you loved and admired about her, but you had never thought of it as more than just platonic love. was paige seeing these tweets? you figured maybe it was better to not mention it.

after one particularly mean tweet, you slammed your phone down on your bed and pulled up your sheets to finally go to sleep.

though, you didn’t fall asleep. instead, you tossed and turned for hours trying to get your racing thoughts to slow down. 

you couldn’t stop stressing about the way your coach handled the situation. if paige weren’t stuck on that team for the next three years, you probably would request a trade. well, you definitely could, but you didn’t want to leave her. who else would advocate for her? definitely not the coach. but you also just wanted to stay near her. you would miss her too much if you were on different teams. 

you couldn’t help but wonder if that was a thought that someone who was more than a friend would have. it was definitely the tweets making you consider, because that would never be in the front of your mind otherwise–or the back, or, like, in your mind at all. and would someone who was just a friend even be stressing about it like this? you had to say probably not. 

at around two in the morning, you crawled out of bed to grab a glass of water. you weren’t thirsty, but you hoped it would reset your mind and allow you to sleep. on your way to the kitchen, though, when you passed by paige’s door, you heard soft crying coming from the inside. 

you stood in front of it for a moment, debating whether or not you should say something–if you should knock or just leave it. despite your judgement telling you to leave it because she probably wanted to be left alone, you slowly turned the knob and opened the door. 

she was lying on her side, facing away from the door with her hair sprawled out behind her, but you could see her shoulders shaking slightly still. she didn’t turn around or acknowledge you, but you knew she heard the door open. you softly closed it, making sure it wasn’t too loud, then walked over to the bed. without any hesitation, you lifted the comforter up and crawled under. she was near the end of the bed, so you didn’t have to move much before you were right next to her. you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against your front.

she took a deep breath, and didn’t move except for her body relaxing in your touch. you waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, not letting any sobs escape either. 

“paige?” you whispered into her hair. you chose your next words carefully, wanting to refrain from asking if she was okay because it was pretty obvious that she was not. “what’s going on?”

she sniffed, shaking her head just barely as a reply. that wasn’t surprising, though, because she had a bad habit of internalizing her emotions–especially the hard ones. she always felt like she needed to be the strong leader who shouldn’t show weakness in front of the people who count on her. unfortunately, sometimes it even extended into her life off the court too–getting her to talk about how she’s feeling if she’s anything but good can feel like untangling a necklace in the dark. 

“you can talk to me, you know?” you tried again, tightening your arm around her slightly. “i’m not here to be anything but what you need.” 

usually, you would probably start rambling some reassurance despite a lack of reply, but you weren’t sure what direction to take here. there were several things she could be upset about–getting injured, the coaching staff, sitting out of games, all of the above. and depending on what the issue was, she may not want to hear ramblings about something else.

“are you happy i was drafted here?” she asked finally, her voice laced with insecurity. 

you were taken aback by that question, honestly. if there was one thing you were sure of about paige, it was that she moved with an unfaltering confidence in her accomplishments and hardly ever expressed anything other than that with them. it was refreshing and motivating to see someone so sure in their hard work, and it inspired you every day. this was much different than her usual mindset.

“what?” you asked, your tone maybe a little more snappy than you intended from the shock. you managed to recover before she could answer. “why do you ask that?”

“are you?” she pressed. 

“of course i am,” you said, still confused. “before i even knew you, i was so happy you were drafted to us because you’re paige bueckers. now that i do, i’m so grateful that we got the first pick because i love having you in my life. it’s great to have page bueckers on my team, but it’s even better that i get the privilege to know paige,” you answered honestly, tracing small circles into her side with your finger. “you know i love you though, so seriously, what’s going on?” 

she sucked in a breath, seemingly hesitant to give the true answer for her intense. for what reason, you weren’t sure. she should know you would never judge her no matter how silly anything she said seemed. and if she didn’t ask that question, you might’ve wondered if it was just the head injury talking.

“i don’t know. i just–this wasn’t how i expected my rookie season to go,” she almost mumbled. 

you sighed, disappointed that she was beating herself up so much over it, but not disappointed in her. and to be honest, you didn’t really know what to say to her. you could sing so many praises over her name from her character off the court to her game, but this territory was different. obviously, no one could predict this happening, especially so early, but there’s nothing she can do to reverse it. 

“i was supposed to be this player who came in, broke all these crazy records, and led the team to all these wins. instead, we’re losing all the time and i’m missing at least two games already because i slammed my fucking head into someone else,” she laughed bitterly.

“you are breaking records, at least,” you replied with an attempt at some humor to cheer her up a little bit.

“yeah, but that’s not good enough, apparently,” she said.

“according to who, paige? not according to me, your team, and the coaches. or your past teammates and coaches. so who cares what anyone else thinks? especially miserable people on the internet who could never do anything close to what you do in their lifetime.” 

“you’re gassing me up,” she mumbled to try to lighten the mood, attempting to bite back the smile threatening to rise to her face at the praise. receiving compliments from you always made her feel better, no matter how down she was, and made her feel more accomplished than from anyone else.

“i’m just telling the truth,” you chuckled.

she shifted slightly, causing you to loosen your grip you had on your waist. she used the opportunity of movement to turn around so she was facing you, your arm not moving from around her and her arms loosely crossed in front of her chest. 

suddenly, the thoughts about whether or not you truly were just friends or if you felt a little more came rushing to the front of your mind because of the proximity. your noses weren’t touching, but if you leaned forward ever so slightly, you could brush them together. not only that, but she was holding intense eye contact. but that’s just paige–she has insane eye contact no matter who she’s talking to. 

you wondered if she was thinking about the closeness, too. if her heart was pounding against her ribcage right now, if she was too aware of her breathing. if you weren’t so close, you probably would be struggling to hold eye contact, but it was a little difficult not to now. there wasn’t much else to look at unless you awkwardly craned your neck. 

your heart sank as your eyes scanned over her face to take in her appearance. in the moonlight glistening in through the window, you could see the tear streaks on her cheeks and her red rimmed, glassy eyes. her nose looked a little red where she had been wiping away snot, too.

“i messed it all up,” she said softly, her voice shaking a little. “i was supposed to come in and fix everything, to take the team out of the losing streak and keep it from staying at the bottom. we’re still losing no matter what we do, so i’m not sure i’m proving why i was the number one pick.” 

you reached up to brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ear, then let your hand drift back down to her waist. you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts, too. she put way too much pressure on herself from the get-go, and you just didn’t know how to take it off her shoulders so she could finally feel relief. it was too much for one person. 

“how are you not? weren’t you the first rookie to have a 20-piece this season? didn’t you set the record for the fastest player to get 60 points and 30 assists? aren’t you the second fastest rookie to get a points-assists double-double?”

“yeah, but we’re not winning,” she replied stubbornly, her voice lowering on the last word. 

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head a little. “so what? win or lose, your stats speak for themselves. i don’t care if people thought you were going to come in and we suddenly would be this unbeatable force. we’re a brand new team, it’s not something that can just rebuild overnight,” you explained. you knew that paige knew all of this, she had made that clear in her interviews, but apparently, she wasn’t listening when she said it. “i know it’s hard to lose so much after coming from uconn and off a national championship on top of that, but that’s way too much pressure to put on yourself.” 

“i know, i know,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “but i was expected to make all these changes and instead, i had to get injured. again. i just wanted one season where i’m healthy for the whole thing.”

“that’s just not realistic, paige. you barely had any time between college and pro season. there was no rest for your body to recharge so you’re bound to get injured,” you said, stating the obvious yet again. but clearly she needed to hear it from someone else for it to really click. “this is your chance to rest.” 

“i don’t want to rest. i want to play,” she complained, her voice a little whiny. 

“too bad,” you said with raised eyebrows, indicating you were just messing with her by your tone. “but now you can relax, rest up, and come back in demon mode with a point to prove.”

she laughed. that intoxicating, adorable, genuine laugh that you loved to hear so much, the one that always brought a smile to your face and made butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound. 

“demon mode?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow, and poking the spot between your collarbones with her finger. “you spend too much time on online.” 

“this would be better if you didn’t make fun of me for the methods i’m using to comfort you in your time of need,” you smiled fondly. 

you couldn’t deny the sudden urge to lean forward, to change everything about your relationship right there by pressing your lips together in a kiss. it was almost too much for your brain to compute, though, because you had never felt that before. paige had always just been your little sister on the team, the girl who annoys you to the ends of the earth but you love her regardless. she wasn’t supposed to be the girl who made you feel like a teenager with a high school crush again. 

did she feel it too? did she feel the same electricity that you did? or was there even any? were the comments just getting into your head?

“you make it too easy,” she smiled back. 

“you’re so annoying,” you groaned, rolling over so you were lying on your back next to her and staring at the ceiling instead of at her. hopefully it would take some of the tension out of the air that was suffocating you. but then she giggled at your reaction. you tried to pretend it didn’t tug at your heartstrings.

you expected her to stay where she was, to keep the distance you had made between you two, but apparently she was full of surprises tonight. instead, she scooted toward you and wiggled her body down the bed so she could lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming up to sling over your waist, tangling your feet together. instinctively, you wrapped the arm on that side around her body, resting on her back just above her hip. 

“i really appreciate you trying to cheer me up, you know,” she said quietly. “and, like, i’m also glad i have you in my life.” 

after she finished speaking, you had a serious internal debate on whether or not to reply in a serious manner. you knew she was trying to be serious and express genuine gratitude, but you had the perfect comeback after she just made fun of you. of course, you decided that nothing in life has to be too serious all the time. 

“yeah?” you asked smugly. “well, i’m not sure if i am anymore. all you do is bully me.” 

you could imagine she was smiling at your words. the classic paige smile that made you and everyone around her smile too, the contagious happiness that radiated from her like she was the sun. 

“i’m here to keep you humble,” she replied. one of the things you loved most about her is her ability to not take things so seriously just like you, that she loved to joke around and try to put a smile on people’s faces, no matter what. “your head is already big, can’t let it get bigger than that. not on my watch.”

you gasped dramatically, your mouth dropping open in shock, tilting your head down to look at her to see if she really just had the audacity to say that. “what?!”

she tilted her head to look at you too, biting her lip to hold back the cackles she wanted to spill but it didn’t stop the smile. 

“big head?!” you cried, your face a mix of confusion and annoyance at her words. “bitch, you better be joking with me right now.” 

this time, she definitely cackled. the sound was loud compared to the quiet room, but you didn’t mind. you were just glad you were able to make her laugh this hard. it felt like you won an award every time you did, especially while on camera during media because then there was proof (and you could watch it back).

“it’s okay i still love you,” she replied, still somewhat laughing, reaching her hand up to pat you on the top of your head. “big head and all.” 

“nah, get off me,” you said. you gave her a lethal side eye before pushing her off you somewhat roughly–only because you knew she wouldn’t move if you didn’t add a little force to it. she laughed loudly again, not even trying to latch on so you couldn’t push her off like you assumed she would. 

instead, she rolled on her back, clutching her stomach from her inability to contain her laughter at your reaction. this time, the tears in her eyes were from joy instead of the endless pressure of expectations that come with being the number one pick on the worst team in the league. 

you managed to hold in your laughter to not give her the satisfaction, instead sporting an annoyed expression as you stared at her and waited for her to finish. however, when she opened her eyes and saw your face, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. 

“i regret coming in here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest. “if i had just kept walking, i could live peacefully in ignorance under the assumption that you thought i had a regular-sized head. life would've been better that way.”

she let her laughter die down while you were speaking, allowing her to be able to give a coherent reply, but she still couldn’t stop the giggles. “okay, okay. ‘m sorry.” 

you stared at her, narrowing your eyes. “yeah, that wasn’t genuine. i’m going back to my own bed where there’s peace and quiet.” 

before you can stand, or move at all really, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward her in protest. her face instantly dropped from her big, goofy grin into a sad expression paired with puppy dog eyes. 

“wait,” she said, then used her free hand to touch her head and put an expression on her face like she was in pain. “ah, my head. it hurts so bad. i think i need you to stay here with me tonight. you know, to make sure i live to see the morning.” 

you rolled your eyes at her antics, but it made you a little nervous. sure, you two were touchy, but it had never gone further into this territory. you had never shared a bed. that was a whole new game that you weren’t sure if you were ready to play. that was something so intimate, so trusting of one another–it felt a little more than friendly. maybe it was just you who thought that. you had shared a bed with so many friends before, especially as a teen, but this time felt different.

“you’re so dramatic,” you laughed, gently shoving her arm. 

she didn’t reply. instead, she boldly rolled her body over so she was lying on top of you with her full weight, her head resting on your collarbone, and her arms thrown lazily above both of your heads. obviously, she wasn’t that heavy, so it didn’t bother you–she felt like a warm weighted blanket since she was pretty skinny for how tall she was. it definitely helped that you were the same height but actually had a little more meat on your bones than her, though.

you stayed still for a few moments, though, your brain glitching at the sudden contact of your bodies pressing together. your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides for a little too long, but then you slowly let them wrap around her body. she hummed in content at that, shifting slightly to get comfortable, her head seemed to nestle even further into your collarbone. 

you tried to steady your breathing to slow your heart rate, not wanting her to notice how it was beating embarrassingly fast. hers was slow, like it didn’t bother her. it bothered you, though. not in a bad way, but in a down bad way. the weight of her body, the feeling of her heartbeat beating against your chest, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck–god, you were in trouble. 

“i’m feeling better already,” she said softly, breathing out a deep sigh. 

“maybe i should’ve gone into nursing instead,” you joked, reaching up to brush all of her hair one side so it didn’t get in your face. 

she shook her head against you as best as she could, tensing her body like she was squeezing you tighter even though her arms weren’t necessarily in the position to do so. 

“then you would’ve never met me,” she argued, her tone dripping in the implication of what a ridiculous thing to say. 

“darn, i’d have to live my life still thinking i have a regular-sized head,” you deadpanned, not allowing your tone to falter to anything but serious–not even letting a little giggle slip through the cracks. you were good at that kind of humor, though, and sometimes it made it impossible for your teammates to tell if you were being for real. 

“somebody would’ve told you the truth eventually,” she giggled.

even though you had done it a million times tonight at her silliness, you didn’t roll your eyes. of course, if she was looking, you definitely would’ve, but there was no point if she couldn’t see it. instead, you paused, taking your bottom lip between your teeth in thought as you debated saying the words that were sitting heavy in the front of your mind, staring at the ceiling like you would find the answer for what you should do.

“you know, paige,” you started, your voice barely a whisper, sucking in a quick breath to ease your nerves. “i would’ve met you whether i went into nursing, you were drafted to a different team, or neither of us even played basketball. it doesn’t matter what could’ve happened because i would’ve always found you.”  

she didn’t respond right away. the vulnerable words hung between you two heavily, yet it didn’t feel suffocatingly tense like you thought it would. instead, you were just glad you were able to get them out in the open to let her decide which direction to steer them in. she let them sink in before she opened her mouth, not wanting to say the wrong thing and mess up the moment. 

you didn’t really know what you were expecting her to say, or even what you were hoping her reply would be. on one hand, you wanted her to say something equally as sappy so you didn’t feel alone in being emotional, and to know she felt the same way without needing to read between the lines. on the other hand, you wanted her to say something unserious, to diffuse the emotionally charged energy that was making the hair on your arms stand straight up–something that would imply that she felt the same, but didn’t straight up say it to leave a bit of wonder and make your heart flutter.

“for real?” she finally asked, her voice cracking like she didn’t fully trust that the words actually came out of her mouth. you could imagine she had a smile on her face and red, flushed cheeks, too. 

you should’ve known she would’ve said something like that. no matter how many awards she won, how many compliments she received on social media from fans, and how many veterans treated her like she was a force to be reckoned with, she was still as humble as ever–still getting flustered when someone (particularly someone close to her) gives her praise about anything, especially when it wasn’t related to basketball. 

“for real,” you replied, smiling to yourself. 

she turned her head slightly to shyly rub her forehead against your collarbone like she was trying to hide from your gaze, even though she wasn’t in your line of sight. still, she felt warm and electric sitting there, like if she didn’t move she would be jolted. like your gaze was the one sending the electricity through the air even though it was trained on the ceiling instead of her. like she couldn’t believe you had said that to her and meant it. 

“like…” she paused, picking at the sheet a little bit as she gathered her thoughts, “even if i lived in the woods off the grid with no way to contact the outside world?”

you huffed out a laugh at the question, not even surprised by her saying something ridiculous and stupid like that as a way to ask for reassurance without actually asking for it. you tightened your arms around her middle so you could shift slightly without moving her, but didn’t loosen them too much after. 

“hm,” you hummed like you were unsure. then paused, pretending to seriously consider that it was a possibility and the solution to that problem. “yeah, i’d find a way. maybe one day i really felt the need to go hiking in those specific woods, and i just can’t shake the urge. so i go, then i accidentally run into your camp along the way. boom, i found you in that timeline. easy money.”

she laughed softly, a fondness laced into the sound, too. “you don’t even like hiking.” 

“exactly, so if i suddenly have the urge to do something i hate, i better listen because it’s probably for a good reason,” you stated matter-of-factly, like you had already considered that. you were quiet for a few moments to give her a chance to reply, but she didn’t immediately give you one, so you spoke again. “have you ever heard of those philosophical theories of the universe or the ones in mythology?”

“no,” she answered. of course, the question was extremely vague so you expected to have to explain anyway. plus, you kind of figured, given her christian faith, that she didn’t read too far into that kind of stuff. you did though, just because it was interesting as the philosophy and history nerd you were.

“well, in philosophy, there’s the inevitability theory. it basically says that certain things in our life are predetermined and will unavoidably happen, no matter the choices we make. even if you could go back in time to do something totally different than the way you originally did–like if i had decided to take dance serious instead of basketball when i was eight–it would still cause those certain things to happen,” you explained, confidence dripping in your tone because this was definitely your niche. after all, you graduated college summa cum laude with a bachelor's of arts degree in philosophy with a double minor in history and mythology and theology. 

again, you paused to let her reply or maybe ask a question to clarify. or even tell you she didn’t care–which she was too nice to say that to you out loud–but you were always worried that someone would tell you that while you were rambling about this kind of stuff since it can be boring to most people. but it didn’t matter, because she always cared when you talked to her about this stuff. not because she personally found it interesting enough to research on her own, but because she loved to listen to you speak about things you were passionate about. she wanted to hear about it purely because it was something you loved. 

“in norse mythology, there’s the norns. they are three female beings who are said to be the most powerful beings in the universe because they control what happens to everyone in the universe, mortal and god, by weaving together the threads of fate,” you continued, running your fingertips gently up and down her spine. 

her breathing was starting to slow like she was getting sleepy, but you continued talking anyway. “or, you might know this one from, like, tiktok or something; the red string of fate from east asian mythology. it’s been adapted from the original ancient theory to be more modernized to apply to more than just a romantic relationship between a man and a woman, though. basically, it says that two people are tied together with a red string that will eventually bring them together. the thread can be pulled and tangled, but it won’t break–to symbolize regardless of what happens or how far away they are from each other, they are destined to have a meaningful relationship together.” 

“yeah, i’ve heard that one,” she mumbled, her voice having a trace of sleepiness when she spoke.

“or, like, in christian theology, there’s predestination–god has already chosen certain outcomes for us, but theologists think it’s supposed to be referring to being predestined for salvation. you could definitely interpret it to be about certain events being predestinated to happen, though. but it’s a calvinist theory, and kind of contradicts the premise of free will in the bible so it’s really debatable,” you said, lowering your voice slightly to hopefully aid in putting her to sleep instead of keeping her awake. you just hoped it was taking her mind away from the dark place it had wandered earlier. 

again, you pause, waiting to see if she wanted to reply. she doesn’t, but you know she’s still awake because of the way her foot is shaking against yours. you had just thrown a lot of information (irrelevant information, at that) at her, so she could just be processing, but you hoped that she wasn’t shaking her foot to force herself to stay awake for your ramblings like this. 

“if we want to get real unserious, i could tell you what they say about it in doctor who,” you said with amusement, testing to see if she was bored of you talking yet. 

“doctor who?” she echoed, laughing afterwards. “you’re such a nerd.”

“basketball is just how i maintained my cool status. it’s not reflective of my true spirit,” you joked. 

though, you were kind of serious. you definitely would’ve been considered one of those weird kids that people make fun of online if you weren’t so good at basketball. and, you hate to say it, if you weren’t conventionally attractive–both in your facial features and your tall stature and athletic build. at first glance, someone probably wouldn’t assume that you spent your free time reading history textbooks and nonfiction books at the library after practice, giving yourself unnecessary homework. or that you had a life-sized cutout of matt smith facing your bed. 

not that your actual friends would’ve cared because they knew (of course, you had many sleepovers so it was hard to avoid them finding out) and didn’t mind hearing about your interests, but there were always those select few insecure, mean girls who hated when other people experienced joy–especially if the joy came from something they deemed to be cringe.

“tell me about it,” she replied gently. her finger moved down from where it was rested against the sheet by your head to trace over the neckline of your t-shirt, her fingertip occasionally brushing over your skin. 

you tried not to let it distract you as you cleared your throat, desperately trying to will the information that had suddenly gone out the window to come back to your mind so you didn’t look suspicious. luckily, you managed not be too outwardly obvious that her touch was playing tricks on your mind. 

“um, well, the doctor called the idea the burden of the time lords when he told donna that he couldn’t save everyone in pompeii eruption, even if he wanted to because it was a fixed point. it’s, like, an event that is so pivotal that even time lords can’t tamper with it because it has to happen or it would fracture time. it doesn’t have to happen exactly the way it originally did, but, like, the basic concept has to remain in tact. like how they ended up saving some people from pompeii but not all of them.”

with closed eyes, she moved the finger that was tracing over your neckline to tap you gently in the middle of your forehead a couple times. “big brain,” she chuckled sleepily, then returned her finger to its previous action. “it’s cool that you know so many things.” 

you couldn’t fight the small smile that rose to your lips at her words of praise, feeling accomplished that she thought you were smart. her breathing started to slow again, though slower and deeper than before–indicating that this time she really was falling asleep. you switched from tracing over her spine to rubbing slow, gentle circles into her back with your palms. 

though, before she could drift off into a peaceful sleep after her stressful day, she broke the silence once more. 

“this is my fixed point,” she said, her voice quiet and breathy from her sleep quickly approaching to take her away. 

you sucked in a deep, sharp breath in surprise, your hands stalling their movement on her back for a moment before recovering. though, you didn’t reply, knowing she probably wasn’t even still awake to hear it. 

of all the things you assumed she would say, that was not one of them. it wouldn’t have been surprising if she agreed with you that meeting you would always happen no matter what, or even if she didn’t say anything at all. but that was probably the last thing you expected to hear. 

it slapped you in the face with emotions you were not ready to confront, suddenly making you aware of how fast your heart was beating underneath her–it felt like it could burst out of your ribcage and run away. and you almost felt a little nauseated, too, just because of the overwhelming feeling. 

this is my fixed point.

this moment. after hitting her head, being placed under concussion protocol, and told she would have to miss at least two games of her rookie season. after she had been bawling her eyes out over the expectations that people were pushing on her, the ones she was pushing on herself, and feeling more insecure over her game than she ever has. yet despite all of those things, she didn’t want this moment to be tampered with.

if you separated the moment of you two cuddling while she listened to you ramble about things she would’ve never known if it wasn’t for you–because she didn’t care about that stuff–from the reason you were even lying there with her in the first place (and only considered that part), you would understand. but when you considered everything that had taken place today, you figured she would’ve rather forget. even at the expense of forgetting this emotional moment.

you wanted to shake her awake, to demand an answer on what she meant by that. if it was a friendly statement or if she was feeling the same way you were–if it came from a place of unspoken feelings and doubts of ruining something that was already good. 

but you didn’t, you let her sleep because you knew she needed it. so you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, too.

the following morning, it was difficult to get up. it was probably the most difficulty you’ve ever had trying to pull yourself out of bed, actually. not because her entire body weight was still on top of you, because it wasn’t. she had rolled in her sleep so she was half on you and pressed against your side, her hand still placed where it was on the collar of your shirt last night. her mouth was dropped halfway open, and you could see a little puddle of drool on the pillow. if you hadn’t left your phone in your room, you probably would’ve taken a picture.

but despite how adorable and peaceful she looked, you had to get to the gym for practice. 

you slowly and carefully peeled your body away from hers. instead of leaving her empty-handed, though, you grabbed one of the pillows she wasn’t using and slid it underneath her arm, gently setting down her hand on top of it like it was on you. she didn’t stir at all, clearly getting some much-needed deep sleep. after quietly closing the door behind you when you left, you covered your face with your hands and sighed deeply. even though you wished more than anything that paige could come to practice, you were glad to get some separation so you could think over not just what happen last night, but the way you were feeling after. 

you tried to push it to the back of your mind while you got changed, put your hair in a ponytail, and grabbed your keys off the island where they were. you glanced at where she had thrown her bag last night when you first walked in, noticing that the space was now empty. she probably walked out and grabbed it after you were already lying in bed.

and you managed to drown out the thoughts on your drive to the arena, turning the volume up in your car to fifty and playing songs that you knew couldn’t possibly relate to the situation, even if you squint. though, you didn’t sing along like usual, just stared ahead at the road with a tense grip on the steering wheel. 

practice was a great distraction. despite the comments about paige not being there from the coaches and teammates, and your teammates asking if she was doing okay, you managed to keep your mind pretty fixed on the task at hand. you channeled all those feelings into the defensive drills, knocking down your teammates and practice players with the same aggressiveness as usual–only subtly turned up just a notch. you would have to really know your game to know that you were playing different than usual. paige definitely would’ve known. 

you didn’t even think about it as you moved across the floor swiftly, executing the drills effortlessly. that is, until it was time for the usual end-of-practice shoot-around. there were no team drills, no team activities, just working on your shots in your own (or with a partner or small group, if you wanted) with one of the assistant coaches. this would usually be the time that the media team was able to capture the most amount of footage of you and paige messing around for the instagram page, whether it was a candid shot or something organized. 

and that made it impossible not to think about her and your feelings for her.

you were so confused, rightfully so, about what exactly was going on. did you even feel anything more than friendly for her or are you just letting the comments play tricks on you? had the thought of being more than friends ever crossed her mind, even if it was just once? did she feel the energy shift between you last night? 

she had to have. it felt so obvious. the air in that room was so thick, you’re not sure that a chainsaw was powerful enough to cut it.

is her feeling that energy why she said what she said? did she even realize she said it or was she speaking in a half-asleep daze? would she stress about it like you are right now? was she trying to convince herself it meant nothing? did it mean nothing?

god, there were so many thoughts racing through your mind all at once, you genuinely considered slamming your head against the brick wall of the gym to get them to quiet down. but that wouldn’t do you any good, you’d be placed in concussion protocol too. and that would definitely look a little suspicious on your part if you got them so close together, and if they published the reason you were placed in it.

even though you had only been shooting for five minutes, you decided to take a water break try to calm down a little bit after missing three mid-range jumpers in a row. it wasn’t even that shots weren’t landing like they were supposed and generally having a bad shooting day, you were just barely paying attention to what your body was doing, what your form looked like, and if they were going to go in–your mind somewhere else entirely. 

you sat on one of the folding chairs, reaching under it to grab your water bottle. your phone was sitting next to it on the floor and for some reason, you hesitated–debating on if you should grab it or not. it was common for you to bring your phone on the floor like this, just because it made you feel less anxious having it close in case something were to happen, but you, pretty much, never checked it until practice was over. you didn’t really have a reason to. 

the only person you wanted to talk to was standing right there on the court with you.

and maybe the unusual, overwhelming urge you had to check your phone while practice was still running because she wasn’t there. you snatched it from it’s position on the wood, quickly tapping the screen to see the notifications you had missed. you tried to bite back the smile when you saw paige’s name at the top from imessage. 

boogie 

y’all miss me yet or what

once, after practice was over and the team was still hanging around waiting for one of the coaches to grab something from the locker room so you could have your post-practice meeting, you all got in a group discussion about nicknames that they were given by your respective high school and college teams. after she said the important ones like p and paige buckets, she mentioned one of her lesser known nicknames, p boogers, that was used a lot during the 2023-2024 season by her teammates at uconn, specifically kk–who was the one who came up with it–but it was only used periodically after that. 

of course, you were determined to give it a comeback because it was hilarious. even though when you were verbally speaking to someone, you didn’t use nicknames that much, you decided to utilize it other ways. like changing her contact name to that, and you had used it in a few instagram captions and comments. and between those captions and comments, it had somehow evolved from p boogers to boogie. you don’t even remember how, but you don’t think you’ve ever actually called her either of those names when speaking to her. unless someone introduced themselves with a nickname when you met them, you mainly just used their name. whatever name they introduced themselves with, whether it was their full first name or a nickname, was the one you stuck with and you rarely ever didn’t follow this unspoken rule you had made for yourself.

your fingers moved quickly across the screen to type in your passcode after your face id denied and opened the imessage app, trying to remind yourself that you couldn’t sit here for too long and needed to get back to shooting. not that it mattered too much because the coaches wouldn’t say anything, you’re a professional. they don’t babysit you anymore like in high school and college.

you

nah

we actually don’t need u anymore sorry

boogie

you’re supposed to be miserable without me

you

why would i be 

i can actually get shots up without this random annoying girl trying to distract me

boogie

don’t know why you’re complaining

i’m just simulating real game situations

it’s important to practice how u play

you

real situations huh

nobody is gonna try to pants me in the middle of a game

boogie

u never know

now i’m gonna do it to prove to u that it can happen

you

bruh we’re on the same team

u just want to see me without pants sooo bad

boogie

maybe i do 👀

you nearly choked on your own spit as the clearly flirty message came in. you and paige didn’t really have the type of friendship for you to brush it off as nothing, too. you two were often physically close, complimented each other, and said that you loved each other often (often being everyday, of course), but never straight up flirted with one another, even as a joke. you only “flirted” if an outside observer perceived a conversation as flirty while listening in, like when you would compliment each other on the court or hug in the tunnel, but it was never like that on purpose. and you don’t think that really counted anyway.

you

gonna start tying my shit extra tight

and avoiding u at all costs

if u need to talk to me, you’ll have to yell across the court bc that’s as close as i’m getting

boogie

☹️

i’m never coming back

you

thank god

get off ur phone concussed ass

as soon as you pressed send on the second message, you threw your phone back under the chair and shot out of your seat to get back to working on your shots. the short break definitely didn’t help because your shot accuracy is just about the same as when you started, if not worse. not that you were surprised, because now you had all new material for this situation to stress over that was fresh in your mind.

that message could’ve meant nothing. she could’ve been playing around, flirting as a joke, not really meaning for you to take it so seriously and stress about it. but that wasn’t really like her, her humor wasn’t like that–at least, with you. you had to wonder if she was being bolder after sharing a bed, which she was, for sure, that was obvious. but was it because you shared a bed, and cuddled all night on top of that? was she also battling with the same internal struggle as you were, trying to decipher hidden meanings behind everything that probably weren’t even there in the first place? 

“have you talked to paige today?” a voice broke you from your trance. 

you froze in place at her name. you tried your best to be nonchalant about, though, as you shifted the ball you were holding to rest on your hip, turning your body to the culprit. it was maddy, of course. you had been fairly close with her ever since you got drafted together. you knew of each other in college, following each other on instagram, but you never talked to her before that. obviously not as close as you were with paige, but you were still good friends. 

“uh,” you started, scrambling to rack your mind for a good answer that wasn’t literally oh yeah, she stayed the night and we slept in the same bed, no biggie, she’s as good as she can be. but you were overthinking that anyway. would it really be that weird to say she slept over? probably not, it wasn’t a secret that you two were close outside of work, and you both had mentioned sleeping over at each others’ apartments multiple times. it felt different to admit it this time though, like you were talking to someone new and trying to keep it quiet in case it doesn’t work out. instead of being honest about the sleepover, you just went with your safest option while still maintaining honesty. “yeah, she was just texting me.”

“is she doing okay?” maddy asked genuinely. she didn’t seem to be suspicious of your behavior. yet, anyway. “i feel so bad for her.”

“yeah, um, she’s okay. pretty bummed about missing so much, but what can you do, you know? she was just asking me if we missed her yet,” you replied, sliding in the last part to ease the tension you had worked up. 

maddy laughed. “i’ll check in on her later. my phone is in my locker and i assumed you had spoken to her since i last saw her anyway, so i figured i could ask you for now in case she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

“i know she’d love to hear from you,” you said genuinely, shooting her a reassuring smile. 

“i’ll let you get back to shooting,” she said as she walked down the court to the other hoop where she had come from. 

you shook your head to try to shake some of the awkwardness out of you from that interaction because there was no reason for you to feel awkward. it didn’t mean anything that she had asked you about paige instead of just texting her herself, especially because she probably knows that concussion protocol says to limit screen time. 

you managed to get through the rest of the shoot-around without a problem, though it passed by way faster than you hoped it would. to make up for it, you decided to shower here at the arena instead of at home which was a rarity. and you didn’t even check your phone either.

yes, you were literally only doing it to prolong seeing paige again. she probably wasn’t even still in your apartment unit, though, so you don’t know why you felt the need to do it. you loved her, seeing her, spending time with her. yet, today it felt like the last thing you wanted to do. it wasn’t her fault, either, it was you and your stupid feelings. you didn’t need to complicate things like this when she’s recovering from a potential injury, especially one that could be as serious as that. 

but that was the other thing, it wasn’t even complicated. you were just making things up in your head to justify your avoidant behavior at this point. 

your heart pounded the entire drive home in anticipation, your palms getting more and more sweaty the closer you got to the building. you found yourself subconsciously looking to see if her car was there, and it was, parked in her assigned spot. duh, she can’t drive by herself, you muttered to yourself.

when you walked through the front door of your apartment, not even bothering to turn the light on, you were greeted with the sound of silence rather than paige’s voice. the couch was empty and the tv switched off, but she could still be in the bedroom? she is supposed to be sitting in the dark. before you could turn to go down the hallway and check, you noticed a paper sitting on the counter of the kitchen. 

of course, you couldn’t ignore the curiosity bubbling up inside you, so you walked over to it somewhat cautiously. you’re not sure why, because who else would’ve written it besides paige? it’s not like someone is going to break in your house and leave you a convenient little note to apologize before leaving, or that a murderer would wait for you to read it before they killed you. 

when you picked up the paper and got a good look, you would’ve recognized that handwriting anywhere.

i would say i hope you had a good practice but i know you didn’t because i wasn’t there

went back to my apartment to shower and change 

please text me when you’re back!!!

– love,

your favorite basketball player of all time

the funniest person you know 

the best part of your day 

the reason the sun rises every morning 

the source of your happiness

the reason you haven’t requested a trade yet

you laughed when you saw all the names she added to her signature, not at all surprised by any of them. you did as the note said, pulling out your phone to shoot her a text to let her know you’re back. she had replied back from earlier, too, when you were texting her during practice.

boogie

yes m’am 

it was simple and casual, but it still made your stomach flip a little bit. it shouldn't have, but goddamn, you were down atrocious over this girl. 

you

my fav player is a’ja but i love the confidence!

boogie

so you’re rooting for the enemy?

you

be fr

boogie

i’m just saying 

that’s like betrayal

i’m ur fav wing at least right

you

in ur dreams

boogie

😥

open the door

you immediately glanced toward the front door, then back at your phone, debating whether it was necessary to answer. ultimately, you decided to just walk over and open it rather than put in the effort to reply and open it. it’s been a long day, what can you say?

when you swung it open, you were met with the sight of paige, her purple glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back into a messy low bun, dressed in a random team hoodie, black nike sweatpants, white socks, and slides on her feet, and her lips pulled in a grin when she saw you. 

you stepped to the side to let her in, closing the door as she sat herself on the couch like she had done so many times before. however, it felt like the first time. it felt like an awkward first date with someone you matched with on a dating app where you’re so nervous you can hardly catch your breath, but they seem as cool as can be. 

just like the night before, you ordered food off of her doordash account, putting on a movie to watch while you enjoyed it. you told her what you did in practice, conveniently leaving out any parts that would involve confessing that you really did miss her being there, even if it had only been one day. you could tell she was already really missing being there too by the sad glint in her eyes and the way her smile didn’t quite reach them. 

you knew that paige hated missing training, especially for injuries. she had spent so much of her time at uconn injured, that she wanted to have a clean slate and start her professional career off right with a completely healthy season for once. but that goal was over almost as quickly as it began. she barely even had a chance to prove why she really was the number one pick, the girl everyone was raving about, the girl everyone said was on the same level on the greats. you just wished you could take that pain away that you knew was eating her up. 

for the rest of the evening, you sat on the couch with her in your dark living room. as you were sitting on opposite ends, your feet were tangled together in the middle under the giant blanket you were sharing. you had the tv going, though it was softly playing some medical show, mostly for you as she took periodic naps. you had figured out how to turn the brightness of the screen down, too, hoping to reduce any strain in case she wanted to watch when she was awake. 

you were growing more and more anxious over the possibility of her sleeping over again as each minute ticked by. you definitely wouldn’t mind if she did, but there was a game tomorrow. before she was put in protocol, she made sure to always be in bed by 8pm the night before a game to prioritize her rest, for recovery purposes, and try to keep her body as healthy as possible. 

you definitely weren’t as strict with yourself as she was, but she always tried to impose her pre-game rules on you. even though you weren’t worried about that kind of stuff like she was, you always followed along. because if a girl with a player bio that extensive was telling you that doing something would make you a better player, you’re obviously going to do what she says. though, you have yet to notice a big jump in your stats and you never felt much different either, you always assured her that it was definitely helping and you definitely felt much better than before. just a little white lie to make her happy and put a smile on her face, of course.

to no surprise, once the clock read seven-thirty, she jumped to her feet. 

“time for you to get ready for bed,” she said with a smirk, holding out her hand to help you up off the couch. “big game tomorrow. you gotta avenge me.” 

you rolled your eyes while shaking your head to feign annoyance, but took her hand anyway. she yanked you up easily, but put too much momentum into it, causing you to stumble forward and crash into her chest. 

“woah,” she said, the word slipping out without permission. 

your hands landed on her waist in a subconscious effort to stay upright, but you quickly pushed yourself away from her, putting a little more distance than necessary between the two of you. when her face contorted a little in confusion, you mentally cursed at yourself for the insane reaction. there was literally no reason for you to do that, to make it a bigger deal than it was. you were just trying to not make it awkward–which, of course, made it a hundred times more awkward than it would've been. 

after a few moments of observing you, she broke the silence. “um, are you good?” she asked slowly, seemingly unsure of where to tread. 

“yeah, i–um–” you started, then paused, pointing your finger towards nothing as you searched for an excuse somewhere, anywhere in your brain that would make even a little bit of sense. you came up with nothing, though, because there really was no good excuse for that. “i just wasn’t expecting to fall was all.” 

you avoided eye contact as you waited for a reply, hoping that she would believe it. if she couldn’t see you right now, you would drop on your knees and plead to whatever god–or entity or whatever else people worship–was listening that she believed it and didn’t question you further, maybe you would even offer your firstborn child to get out of it. or maybe selling your soul would be better?

apparently, no one was listening. 

“yeah,” she said, clearly not at all convinced. “you’ve been weird since you got home. was it that text i sent you at practice? because i swear i was just–”

before she could finish her sentence, you cut her off. “no, no. it’s not that. i’m just–” you paused, once again looking for any excuse that you could possibly latch onto and run with. “–nervous about the game tomorrow.”

“right,” she replied slowly, furrowing her brows in confusion. you couldn’t tell if she straight up didn’t believe you or if she was trying to decide whether or not she did, but this time, she didn’t press it. she threw her hand up before she opened her mouth, using her thumb to point at the door. “i’m gonna head out. text me when you wake up so we can get breakfast before you have to be there?”

“of course,” you nodded, watching as she started walking toward the door. “rest up, paige.” 

she didn’t reply, but stuck her hand and the air and pointed up as acknowledgement as she grabbed the doorknob, pulled it open, then shut it softly behind her. 

you blew out a breath of relief, grateful for that terribly awkward interaction to be over so you don’t have to be drowning in it anymore. you wanted to punch yourself in the throat for acting like this, but you had been spiraling all day about whether or not you had feelings for paige, romantic feelings so now everything felt so much more emotionally loaded than before. but was it different than before?

you made an attempt to collect yourself as you stood there, contemplating whether or not you should just crawl in a hole and die to avoid having to reflect on that interaction again. the decision was that maybe it wasn’t the best idea the night before a game, or just in the middle of the season in general. maybe once the season ends, you’ll find a nice wooded area somewhere in the middle of nowhere when you can dig a hole to spend the rest of your days in. maybe in appalachia? no one goes in those woods because they’re afraid to see something supernatural. or maybe the mountains of utah? though, you weren’t the biggest fan of snow so the winters would be hard. god, this could've been avoided if you just approached these situations like a normal person instead of making them ten times worse than they had to be.

you slapped your palms against your forehead, both as a punishment and to get yourself out of your head. after taking a few calming breaths, you moved toward your bedroom to do as paige said–get ready for bed. you could only hope to get even five minutes of sleep tonight though, knowing the interaction, the sleepover last night, the new feelings, and the flirty texts she had sent would haunt you every time you closed your eyes. well, they were haunting you even with your eyes open, so there wasn’t much hope there. damn, you were going to play like shit the next day if you couldn’t chill out. 

without thinking twice or even allowing yourself to consider skipping, you pushed open the door to the bedroom and then the one to your en suite bathroom as well to turn on the shower. the water was hot against your skin, turning it red on contact, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. it’s not like it hurt anyway, it just looked like it did.

your eyes stared intensely at the water going down the drain, wishing you could wash away with it. at this point, your thoughts were racing through your mind so quickly, you couldn’t even settle on just one to stress over, so you felt a little fuzzy–or maybe disconnected was the better word. you barely even blinked too, meaning you were in a classic state of dissociation. 

you didn’t know how long you stood there just staring, barely blinking, unmoving, but the water running cold snapped you back into reality. you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt it, quickly reaching to turn off the water. you grabbed a towel of the hook and wrapped it around your body, turning to face the mirror above the sink. 

“chill the fuck out,” you whispered, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror. “you’re working yourself up over nothing.” 

the night goes by in a blur, mostly because you actually managed to fall asleep fairly quickly. you had not expected to until at least three or four in the morning because you didn’t feel tired at all, not even a little bit, even when your head hit the pillow. still, you closed your eyes to try to will your stress away, and they didn’t open back up until you heard your morning alarm going off on the nightstand next to you. 

unfortunately, the new day is no different than the one before. 

you decided to skip the breakfast with paige, feeling too nauseous to eat.

the stress was eating away at you at the pre-game practice–your legs were jiggling every time you found yourself sitting on the bench, your fingers constantly fidgeting with each other, shifting your weight from one leg to the other every couple of seconds while you were standing restlessly.

your mind was plagued with thoughts about paige. about how she felt laying in your arms or how she seemed to fit so perfectly into your side like a puzzle piece. the way she listened to you ramble about your stupid history shit she didn’t care about like it was the most interesting movie she had ever watched, and how she would smile to herself when you would watch a sporting event with her that she knew you didn’t care for, like a football game. the way your minds felt connected while you were on the court together, like she knew what your next four moves would be before you could even compute them yourself, or the way you always knew if her shot was going to go in before it even left her hand. 

how you felt sick to your stomach watching her collide with vandersloot and tumble to the floor. the sense of dread that washed over you when you realized she was lying about not having a headache after. how you couldn’t even stop yourself to think things through and calm down before you were screaming at your coach, the worry taking over you like a demon controlling every action.

the way her voice sounded as she asked you for reassurance later that night, as she let you see how truly buried in insecurity she felt. the way she blamed herself for the losses of your team rather than pointing a finger at anyone else. how puffed up her eyes were the following morning after how much she cried over it. 

how if she were there in that gym with your team, she would be passing around compliments to everyone for every little thing without a second thought. how she would be dancing to the music playing over the speakers while standing in place like a dork. how she would look towards you immediately every time she did something well–even before looking toward the coaches, or would shoot you a tight-lipped smile when she didn’t. how she would be smiling like an idiot when she effortlessly made the half-court shots, throwing her hands up like it was all in a day’s work. because it was, to her. 

she was the ray of sunshine you desperately needed. that the teamandorganization desperately needed. 

if paige had been texting you as pre-game practice went on, then as you were getting ready for the game, or as you were arriving to arena again, you didn’t know. you didn’t even look at your phone, but had put it on do not disturb so she didn’t think you were seeing them and ignoring her. it wasn’t even on purpose either, your mind was just too occupied to even think about picking it up. you contemplated turning it off completely before the game, but you didn’t want to do that without telling her first so she wouldn’t assume you blocked her. 

well, she probably wouldn’t, but things were a little too out of the ordinary right now for you to be considered mentally stable enough to be making rational assumptions. 

when they called the starting lineup, you didn’t even want to hear them say someone else instead of hers, watching them high-five the line instead of her. and when you were standing around the circle waiting for the tip-off, you barely managed to hide the disappointment when it was nalyssa standing across from you instead of paige, who would be nodding at you as her silent way of saying lock in if she was there.

and to make the game, that was bad before it even started, worse, you played like shit, throwing out any possibility of joking about getting your lick back from the team who sidelined your best player. you tried not to think about the fact that you could pretty much guarantee she was sitting on the edge of her couch in her apartment, watching you play probably the worst game you had played since getting drafted (or maybe even in general over your entire career), and how obvious it was that she carried your team on her back like a seasoned veteran despite being a rookie. 

you felt like a hot mess on the floor, and you probably looked like one to all the spectators and even those watching on the livestream too. like you had never played basketball in your life and just casually threw on a jersey before walking onto the court. like you were playing a video game for the first time ever as a kid, trying to navigate the controls while pretending you knew what you were doing, as if they didn’t seem like a foreign language to you. if you didn’t have a coach who believed in peace, harmony, and togetherness, he probably would’ve said the same things–or worse. if you were still playing for your college coach, you most likely would’ve left crying. instead, this coach just tossed out some empty statements: it’s okay, we’re learning, we’ll get ‘em next time, let’s focus on working together.

and goddamn, you were genuinely thinking about sprinting home to print your trade request paperwork and fill them out tonight to keep in preparation for the absolute shit show this season would turn out to be. so they are ready for you to turn in the second the season ends, and you don’t have to endure more of this hell than you are contractually obligated to. especially if paige doesn’t clear protocol after the seattle game. 

well, if the organization didn’t trade you before you had the chance to do so. after your outburst in the last game and your god awful stat line–so shitty a fifth grader on a recreation team probably has better numbers–from this one, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if they tried to rush you out the door and didn’t look back before you could finish out your season.

but really, you wouldn’t be that mad if they did. you couldn’t stand this laid-back coaching style of this new coach one bit, and the fact that the new general manager supported it and continued to ignore the concerned comments from dedicated fans? like it actually irritated you to a point you didn’t know was possible to see this guy stay calm and collected during intense moments instead of getting loud. or when he would stand by the bench quietly, staring like that would do anything, instead of standing on the court arguing with the refs like he didn’t care that he could get a technical foul or two, or even be ejected. 

if you had told your college self that you missed being yelled and cussed at just for dumb little mistakes even if they were unavoidable, or watching your coach throw chairs (mind you, it was never in the direction of the players and most often because of bad ref calls), or getting automatically ejected because he got t’d up twice for being on the court, you would’ve laughed in your face and begged to trade places for someone more chill. 

guess it’s true when they say you don’t know what you got until it’s gone. 

admittedly, it got you so heated, you had created two burner, anonymous accounts on different platforms to scroll through tweets and comments on reddit threads criticizing coach chris. not that you weren’t doing it before they were created, but then you didn’t have to worry about accidentally liking one and that getting spread around tea pages. it was just better if you kept the hatred internal and keep the assumptions that you weren’t a fan of his as assumptions rather than making it obvious publicly by being messy like that. it was already unprofessional enough that you were doing it in the first place, but you had to reassure yourself that you–and your team, of course–weren’t the only ones noticing these things.

maybe at some point in the season there would be something so diabolical that it would be the turning point for you to like the hate posts publicly with your name and profile picture and all. something that would make it hard for everyone to tell the difference between you and kendrick lamar. something that would have you tapping into your full hater potential, dropping diss tracks that name-dropped him and criticized everything you could possibly criticize with nothing safe from being mentioned–starting with that dumb man bun that he feels the need to clutch onto. maybe it would even extend to the general manager too since he was an enabler for the shitty coaching, like how kendrick mentioned j. cole just once in like that, but didn’t do it again. or maybe something like his verse on big sean’s control.

you didn’t know the general manager personally so you didn’t hate him in the same way as your coach, with the same amount of passion pulled from deep inside your core that could be felt burning throughout your entire body from the top of your scalp to the tips of your toes. but it was enough that he was encouraging the shitty coaching by staying passive instead of intervening and firing the coach that isn’t delivering results to have a strong distaste for him. and not only that, he chose this guy who looks like he owns one of those overpriced trendy burger restaurants where they give you mason jars instead of cups and metal trays instead of plates for $30, fries not included–or like a temu version of jesus, as paige’s fans would say–instead of someone like the lisa leslie, a legend in women’s basketball. 

but even with how early you were in season, you definitely felt like you had collected enough material on the coach to embody the lethal, poisonous spirit of the world-destroyer atomic bomb that is meet the grahams. if he hasn’t figured this shit out by now–that something just isn’t working, isn’t clicking–then you’re not sure he ever will. and it’s obvious the problem isn’t with the players on team.

maybe before nobody wanted to really get into his faults since this was his first season in the league, they wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you just couldn’t sit there quietly and hope things would get better anymore. you couldn’t excuse his behavior. not after he watched paige slam her head hard into someone else’s, fall to the ground, then see his entire lineup circle around her to make sure she was okay, just to keep her in the game without even briefly (at the absolute bare minimum) checking on her before it resumed. not after he claimed in an interview that he didn’t see it happen. even though when you watch the livestream back, you can clearly see him standing there next to the score table watching it all go down like it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

you tried to understand his thought process behind that so many times, to try to understand why he handled that the way he did, but you just couldn’t. 

god, the anger burning up had your fingers itching to pick up a pen and write your own version of kendrick’s euphoria. it was so fitting for this situation too–the title referencing drake’s overconfidence in his ability to win the battle, and that fits because chris was overconfident in his ability to coach. but you digress.

it was so hard to bottle in your frustration with how your professional career was moving, but that was all you could do to keep the image you had built for yourself. the level headed player who rarely got in fights with other players and refs, and was often diffusing the tension between other players on the court whether they were on your team or not. you never found yourself on the cusp of bursting like this in college so it was easier to keep your composure, but this organization was really testing your patience. 

after the game, you had wandered into a side hallway immediately following the post-game locker room talk, needing some quiet time to collect your thoughts and chill the fuck out before you headed home–before you got behind the wheel. you pressed your forehead against the cool brick, rubbing your hands roughly over your cheeks, your breath coming out a lot shakier than you thought it would.

you felt yourself spiraling. was feeling like this really worth being able to say you played professional basketball? was pushing through really worth it at the expense of your mental wellbeing? was it really worth it to stay and lose any love left you had for the sport instead of leaving it on a high note before it got too bad?

maybe you were being dramatic, because it really wasn’t even that bad. there were many players who had it significantly worse than you, issues with their organizations that were personal, beyond the game of basketball. and it wasn’t that you were losing. you were used to losing considering last year’s season was rough enough to land you with the number one pick, but not like this. and this was one extra shitty game, so what? you’re supposed to brush it off and come back even better at the next one; you used to be able to do that just fine.

but you didn’t know how you would do that when it was like this coach just did not give a fuck. nothing ever changed, corrections were never made, and every play felt like a free-for-all instead of a cohesive play, and then he wondered why you could never hold onto a lead to save your life.

you tried to think of any reason to stay for the rest of the season. to at least stay in dallas until october instead of requesting a midseason trade or taking the rest of it off for personal reasons. anything that could even influence your decision to leave just a little bit. and there was one.

paige. 

she was your reason. she made it tolerable even when it felt like you couldn’t last another day. she made you remember why you loved the game so much, why you had dedicated your entire life to it. 

you scrambled to grab your phone from where it was tucked into the waistband of your shorts, giving yourself silent praise for grabbing it from your locker before leaving the locker room. when you tapped the screen and the while in do not disturb tab, you had quite a few missed texts from paige and you immediately felt terrible for ignoring her all day.

boogie

good luck today bestie boo

you’re the best ever so i know u don’t need it

i’ll be watching from the couch seething with jealousy but i’m happy i can put my full attention into watching u do ur thing out there

i’ll try to sit still and not get a noise complaint but no promises

you smiled, wondering how you ever got so lucky to have someone like her in your life. you wish that everyone could experience someone as supportive as her, whether it was a friend or partner. 

boogie

wait you’re on dnd

okayyyy miss locked in

triple double watch baby‼️

damn i wish i was there

um ty to whoever approved the rebel uniforms 

u look so good girl

jealous of everyone who gets to see it in person tonight

you felt heat rush to your cheeks reading the compliments from her. again, it wasn’t something that was abnormal for you two, but it hit you harder this time. you glanced down at your uniform, wondering if she intended it the way you were taking it. there were more messages, but they started to get into commentary about the gameplay, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to get into that while it was so fresh in your mind. 

instead, you tapped her contact photo and pressed call, raising your phone to your ear with a shaky hand. 

“hello?” she asked, her voice instantly making you feel better. 

“paige,” you breathed, an unexpected choked sob leaving your lips and tears welling in your eyes. you hadn’t expected to cry, you would’ve expected to punch wall before you cried tonight. this must’ve been the point where it became too much, finally spilling over. 

“hey,” she said, her voice softening in a way that you had never heard before, “it’s okay.” 

“i wish you were here,” you replied, ignoring her attempt at being reassuring. you appreciated it, but it wasn’t what you needed to hear to start feeling better. 

“i know,” her voice was small, like she was trying to be careful about the words she used to keep your emotions from spilling again. “i know. i wish i was there too. i miss playing with you already.” 

“i played like shit today,” you blurted. it came off a little snappy, but you hoped she understood that it was just because you were frustrated with yourself. 

she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she wanted to be reassuring or lighten the mood. “you said it not me,” she said finally, her tone playful while still trying to be careful. you were grateful for it though, because you knew she was only trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. and it was the truth, anyway, so her denying it would be a lie.

“asshole,” you muttered, but with a fond smile on your face. “i’m bawling my eyes out over here and you’re just kicking me while i’m down.” 

it wasn’t actually the truth, you weren’t crying, tears hadn’t fallen yet, but you felt like you could. you honestly felt like you could sob until your throat was raw and you lost your voice–until you didn’t have any tears left. but the sob when you answered the phone and the shakiness in your voice as you spoke probably gave her the impression that you were. 

“you want me to lie to you?” she asked seriously, but you could hear the smile on her face despite her tone. “because i can. i can pull all kinds of sweet things out of my ass for you right now, if that will make you feel better.” 

you laughed, shaking your head at her in amusement even though she couldn’t see it. “that would probably make me feel worse. you’re not very good at lying.”

“a blessing and a curse,” she replied. 

“how is it a blessing?”

“bruh, i don’t know. it just felt like the right phrase to use,” she said defensively. you could imagine she threw her hands in the air like she usually did when you were actually speaking to each other.

“you’re dumb,” you giggled. she laughed with you, just happy that you shifted to a much happier tone compared to when you first called, even if it meant you were making fun of her. not that she would ever take it too seriously from you, anyway, because you would never mean it maliciously.

there were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. “are you still at the arena?” 

you glanced around like she had caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been, like you were trespassing despite being in your own facility. when you remembered she couldn’t see you, you lowered your voice sheepishly. “um, no.” 

“i would offer to come get you, but,” she said, drawing out the u in the last word a little, “there’s a pretty big chance that someone will see me and i’ll get my ass chewed for not following protocol.” 

“i don’t think getting caught should be the part you’re concerned about here,” you replied, your tone a little sassy as you said it. “maybe we should be worrying about the fact that you would get in trouble because you might have a brain injury. knowing what happens if it doesn’t heal correctly should be enough motivation to keep you from getting behind the wheel, dipshit.” 

you threw in the name at the end to ease the tension of your words, because you were serious. you didn’t want her to brush it off like was just broken nail or something.

“you’re no fun,” she grumbled. 

“you know what else isn’t fun?” you asked, pausing like you were waiting for an answer, but you continued before she could. “post concussion syndrome, second impact syndrome, chronic traumatic encephalopathy–”

“okay, okay,” she interrupted, her tone mildly exasperated. “i hear you, damn. i’m trying to make you feel better and you’re turning it into a lecture.” 

“i would feel better if you took this seriously,” you said sternly.

“i am taking it seriously. it’s just–the possibilities for how this could turn out are really scary and i don’t want to actually think about what happens if i don’t get cleared,” she confessed. “but we’re not talking about me right now, we’re supposed to be focusing on you.” 

you blew a breath of your nose. “has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, a pro at deflecting?” 

“yes, quite a few times actually, all from the same person,” she said. “but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” 

your lips parted in surprise at her words. “you’re mean.” 

“well, can you blame me? i’m getting impatient waiting for you here,” she stated like it was obvious. you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, biting your lip to try to hide the smile threatening to rise.

“waiting for me, huh?” you teased. 

she paused to debate if she wanted to say the joke that instantly came to her mind, and ultimately decided that life is too short to keep her best material to herself. “yep, just naked and oiled up on the couch right now, feeling a little bit like a raw french fry before it goes into the deep fryer.”

your face scrunched in amusement at her joke, trying not to cackle loudly and attract anyone’s attention to figure out where it was coming from. you covered one side of face with your hand, shaking your head, deciding to play along.

“why didn’t you say so? i would’ve been out of here so fast that you wouldn’t have had the chance to hang up before i was knocking on your door,” you replied, trying to hold back the laughter. 

“too much talking, not enough driving,” she simply said in reply, barely even waiting for you to finish your sentence. 

“you know, the more you rush me, the slower i want to move,” you sassed. still, you pushed yourself away from the wall to start walking down the hallway towards the locker room. it wasn't too far of a trip, either.

“okay, fine. what do i have to do to get you to hurry up?” she asked. your heart rate quickened at her words, feeling the flirtatious tone in her words. you weren’t sure if it was intentional or if you were just hearing things, but you swear you heard it.

you hummed in thought as you threw open the door roughly, rushing over to your locker as soon as you got through the frame. “good question,” you finally said after a few seconds of silence, trying to stall for some more time for a funny answer. you couldn’t think of anything though, so you decided to flip it back onto her. “i don't know. what did you have in mind?” 

“i was really banking on you having an idea,” she admitted sheepishly.

“nice. all i get are empty promises,” you pretended to sound disappointed, falling effortlessly into the banter. you pressed the phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed your bag and dug around for your clothes, letting it rest on the bench for support. “let me guess, you being naked and oiled up was another one?” when you didn’t get a reply from her, you nodded your head. “of course, can’t trust anyone these days.” 

then, you grabbed your phone and tapped the speaker button, setting it down in your locker so you could clumsily strip out of your uniform. you’re not sure if you had ever gotten undressed so fast in your life, and the quickness caused you to fumble to get your sports bra over your head–of course, that would happen when you were trying to rush.

“i can do that for you, if you really want. you would have to be okay with extra virigin olive oil, though,” she chuckled. she furrowed her eyebrows when she heard the faint rustling from your end, but decided not to mention it.

“um,” you started. you were feeling a little distracted as you threw your uniform lazily in your locker, not bothering to fold it as you struggled to pull off your sweaty underwear and nike pros. luckily it was easier than the bra, so you were able to throw those in your locker quickly as well and yank your sweatpants up your legs and t-shirt over your head. “yeah, i think i’ll pass.”

immediately after you finished your sentence, you snatched your phone out of the locker, slammed the door, and grabbed your backpack so you could finally head out. 

“finally,” she muttered when she heard the sound of the door. “i was starting to think you were planning on sleeping there tonight.” 

“yeah, yeah, i’ll see you in a few,” you didn’t wait for her to reply before hitting the end call button.

you were definitely the only person left besides the janitors, so the walk to the parking lot was a little dark, but not dark enough to pull out a flash out. not that it mattered, because you practically ran even though you had just played 34 minutes of a game.

anything that could possibly slow you down on your drive happened, too. you tried to remain calm by playing sza over your car speakers, but you seemed to hit every single red light and get stuck behind every slow driver. you gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white to keep yourself from screaming obscenities at the fellow drivers.

you barely waited turn your car off before you were opening the door, too, running toward the door like you had done in the arena. you didn’t really know why you were running either. earlier you had dreaded seeing paige, now all you wanted to do was be in her company. maybe talking to her had eased your mind a little bit.

when you finally got to her door, you didn’t even get the chance to knock before she swung it open, your hand hovering in the air like you were about to knock.

“were you staring through the peephole like a weirdo?” you asked with a light chuckle, dropping your hand to your side. you expected her to deny it a little too fast to not be suspicious. 

“yeah, i was. so?” she shrugged. “didn’t realize it was a crime to be excited to see you.” 

you rolled your eyes at her, shoving past to enter the apartment. she just shook her head with a fond smile, closing the door softly to keep it from slamming. you threw your backpack off to the side somewhere, plopping down on the couch and leaning back like you owned the place. this was good, normal even. it was a post-home game tradition at this point to order a big dinner to her apartment as a treat–to make yourselves feel better after losing.

she didn’t sit down immediately like you thought she would. instead, she stood with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised expectantly. you raised an eyebrow at her in return, confused. 

“why did you take so long after the game?” she blurted.

your eyes widened slightly in shock at the abruptness. “um, i don’t know,” you answered, your voice quiet because it felt like you were in trouble. so you decided to make an attempt at a joke to try to ease the mood. “just needed to gather my bearings after that absolute shit show.”

her expression didn’t change so you knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “well, you ignored me all day and then took as long as humanly possible to get here.”

you hesitated, then slowly extended your arms out to her in a silent invitation. she also hesitated, shifting her weight from one leg to another, then sagged her shoulders in defeat and walked over to your spot on the couch. she dropped down next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as yours wrapped around her body and letting her head fall to rest on your chest. 

“i’m sorry,” you said, not elaborating any further in hopes that she understood. 

“i thought you were being weird because of my texts,” she confessed. “you know, the, like, flirty ones.”

“no,” you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. “it wasn’t because of your texts.”

“then what is it?” 

it wasn’t shocking that she wanted an answer, that she would push until she got it, but you wished she was okay with not knowing. this was a dangerous conversation to have with your confusing feelings, and it could tread into a territory you weren’t ready to enter yet if you weren’t careful. but you had hope that she had those same feelings and that was why she wanted an answer.

you fiddled with the hem of her hoodie, trying to work up the courage to speak. luckily, she didn’t make you feel rushed, like it was urgent, but you still felt that pressure from yourself.

you sucked in a breath, staring down at your lap. “when you went to the ground, i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes. i’ve never been that worried in my life.” to encourage you to continue, she grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together. “i didn’t mean to get so angry with everyone, to lose my cool like that, especially on live tv, but i was so scared.”

“i know,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

you pinched your eyes shut in mild frustration, shaking your head. “no one else reacted like that, paige. no one else screamed at coach like you were dying or something. i think i care about you more than i’m supposed to.”

you opened your eyes slightly, but still made sure to keep your gaze trained away from her to avoid eye contact. you really hoped that she understood what you meant by that–what you were trying to confess to her without actually saying it.

there was a beat of silence. and then another. 

and on the third one, you fully expected her to pull away from you, to put a little distance between your bodies. to tell you that she didn’t feel the same way, that maybe you needed some space for a little bit. once again, making things up to excuse your avoidant behavior. 

finally, her tongue clicks absentmindedly. “more than you’re supposed to?” she questioned.

you couldn’t tell if she genuinely didn’t understand or just wanted you to say what you meant with your chest, but you should’ve known she wouldn’t let you skate by with a vague, cryptic answer, whether she did or not. you attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was unsuccessful.

“like,” you echoed before hesitating, trying to convince yourself that you were already knee deep in this, so you might as well just fully dive in because there was no turning back now. she already had your half-confession. but you chickened out and panicked. “i don’t want things to change between us.”

her body stiffened against you like that wasn’t what she was expecting, like you had said something she was afraid of hearing. she didn’t pull away, though, and after about a minute, she somewhat relaxed. it was a little reassuring that her hand never left yours, so you tried to cling onto to that as a motivator for working up the courage to say it.

“um, okay,” she said awkwardly quiet, a little afraid of the answer that you were avoiding by saying that. the last thing she wanted was to lose you, especially because she was assuming it was her fault–that she had done something wrong, something to make you uncomfortable.

“can i ask you something?” you whispered. though, you continued before getting confirmation. “you know last night, when we were talking about doctor who and stuff. you said that, um, you said that moment was your fixed point.” she nodded slowly. “why that one?” 

she slowly pulled her body away, even her hand, shifting to sit next to you, so you leaned forward to mirror her position. not because she felt awkward or weird or wanted to exit the conversation, but because she wanted to look you in the eyes when she spoke to reassure you that she meant every word she said. and maybe so she could read your reactions to her words too–to see if what you were saying matched how you were feeling. there wasn’t much distance between your bodies, your knees brushing in front of you, but you still felt disappointed by the lack of contact. 

“because,” she started, sucking in a deep breath like she was about shoot free-throws. “i felt…safe lying there with you, like nothing could hurt me. it felt like all of the expectations, and the pressure, and the negative comments–they didn’t exist. nothing else mattered as long as you were there.”

you felt like you were going to throw up from anxiety. you did your best to choke it down so you could speak. “yeah, but i was there because you were upset. i don’t understand why you would want to mark that as something that has to happen, i guess. especially because it followed all the concussion stuff.” 

she smiled, looking down at her lap. “it doesn’t matter.” 

“but there aren’t happier moments you’d prefer?” you asked, trying to understand her thought process. 

“that was a happy moment,” she argued.

you shot her a confused look, your eyebrows furrowed, still not understanding. sure it was eventually happy, but still.

“i was so upset, and you made me feel better almost instantly. it’s like being around you feels like taking a deep breath,” she said, glancing back up to meet your eyes. “and i just–i guess i realized that i wouldn’t change anything if it meant that i could keep that moment and that feeling of safety. i wouldn’t change banging my head against sloot's or overthinking about the comments being posted about me. hell, i wouldn’t even change tearing my acl however many years ago if it meant all of that led me to you, no matter how hard it was for me.”

honestly, you didn’t even know what to say and you weren’t usually one to be left speechless. luckily, she seemed to be on a roll with her confessions tonight.

“you’re my best friend, but i don’t see you as just that. you’re like my other half. better half, maybe,” she chuckled with a casual shrug. 

against your better judgement, you allowed a joke slip past your lips before you could think it through, but you couldn’t help it. the emotionally loaded tension was making you feel a little awkward and clumsy with your intentions and actions, rather than your usual certainty. and yet again, your avoidant behavior was coming to the surface again.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were confessing your love for me.” it wasn’t meant to be anything but a light-hearted statement, a comment about the intensity of the moment, but you knew that it much more than that when she just stared at you with a blank expression. you threw your hands in the air defensively for a few seconds before throwing them back down into your lap. “woah, i was kidding.”

she licked her lips, suddenly feeling more confident than she did five seconds ago. “what if i am?” you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but she leaned forward slightly like there was a magnet pulling her closer to you. “and what if i’m not kidding?”

your eyes darted across her face, trying to fight to urge to run away from this sudden confrontation of very real emotions like you usually would. you swallowed again, but it was uncomfortably dry and the urge to throw up suddenly significantly stronger than before.

“yeah, um, cool,” you scrunched your eyes together at the painfully awkward response, feeling that one hit deep in your soul. that would definitely be the subject of your nightmares for the next few years and cause lasting damage that would carry over into your next lifetime, and maybe even the one after that.

you expected her to pull away at that, to assume it’s a rejection, but she knows you. instead, she glanced down at your lips for a brief moment, then smiled. once you noticed how close she really was–like the tips of your noses were probably only a centimeter apart–you swear you stopped breathing. not only that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere except in her eyes out of nervousness.

“cool?” she nodded, shifting her gaze down to your mouth and keeping it there. 

you didn’t trust your voice to remain steady, so you just nodded in agreement.

“yeah?” she whispered this time, clearly mirroring your words and actions. 

your lips parted without permission in anticipation, but you didn’t nod again, expecting her to lean forward and close the gap between you. much to your surprise, she stayed still.

“still don’t want things to change?” she asked quietly, her eyes flicking back to yours to watch your reaction. 

the action caused you to close your mouth so you could wet your bottom lip with your tongue. you didn’t really intend for it to be something suggestive or flirty, or add to the moment at all, just a nervous habit but she swallowed nervously when she saw it. she hoped you didn’t notice the way she squirmed a little in her seat.

“depends,” you answered, tilting your head just barely. maybe it was just a natural shift by your body that didn’t mean anything, maybe it was a challenge. you didn’t really have an answer for what it depended on, though, you were just saying that to be annoying–to keep her tiptoeing on this line for fun, have her wondering what she has to do to win you over.

“on…” she trailed off as a signal for you to finish her sentence. you expected her to ask that, of course; you shrugged gently.

“i dunno,” you whispered noncommittally, a smug smirk making its way onto your lips.

“you don’t know, huh?” she challenged, her smile never faltering. it felt threatening, like she was about to ruin your life and she knew it.

she tilted her head, breaking this unwavering stand-off you were in to lean forward. she was stubborn and competitive, you knew that, so you didn’t expect her to give in so easily. her lips barely brushed against yours, offering nothing for you to imagine what they would feel like on yours, except a feathery light touch. it wasn’t surprising; she was trying to get you to break. unlucky for her, you were just as competitive and even more determined.

“easy, rookie,” you said, adding a breathy laugh to the end. 

her mouth fell open slightly in surprise and her cheeks flushed, obviously not expecting you to call her that–especially when you were off the court. 

“what?” she giggled, a little more high-pitched than her usual ones. you didn’t know if it was because she was trying to keep them quiet or if it was because she was nervous, but it was adorable. she hung her head for a moment out of embarrassment, letting her forehead touch your shoulder, but quickly picked it back up so your noses were just barely touching again.

“you heard me,” you replied stubbornly. then, you let your smirk turn into a mischievous smile, “this is fun.”

“you think so?” she cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“mhm,” you hummed. you had to admit, the sound had come out much closer to a moan than you had intended, but it only made it even better. especially when you saw her swallow again.

“so,” she started, her voice soft, dragging out the o. “do you wanna tell me what more than you’re supposed to means?”

you laughed, boldly reaching forward to place your hands on her hips. your reach decreased the distance between your lips to the point that you could feel her breath against yours, but you didn’t close the gap. instead, you glanced up at her eyes to search for any signs of discomfort as you tugged her toward you. at first, she looked at you with a glint of confusion, trying to figure out what you were asking, but she quickly understood. 

she climbed into your lap like you wanted her to, though, judging by the way you were tugging on her, she didn’t have much of a choice. her legs straddled the sides of each of your thighs because of your upright position. you let your back rest against the back of the couch. her cheeks were a little flushed as she sat there, her hands awkwardly hanging between you two like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“does this answer your question?” you asked, looking up at her innocently. 

she nodded awkwardly, not meeting eye contact as she tucked her hair behind her ears. you could tell that she clearly wasn’t used to being the one in this position. it was the way her legs tensed because she was too afraid to put all of her weight down, and the way she was keeping her hands to herself. it was kinda cute though–the way you could take away her confidence just like that and get her all flustered.

your hands slowly moved from her hips to gently grab her hands, her gaze flying from her hands to your eyes at the change of touch. you stopped your movement for a second to gauge her reaction before placing her hands on your shoulders. then, you placed your hands back on her hips and pushed down slightly, trying to tell her that she can sit all the way down. 

“it’s okay. you can sit,” you whispered, realizing she might be interpreting it as something different–something sexual. your verbal instructions helped her fully sit down and relax, though.

when you glanced down and noticed how close the waistband of her shorts was to you, you tried to ignore the thoughts of how easy it would be to stick a hand down her shorts right now–to touch her until she’s gasping and begging for more. or how if she leaned back a little bit you could use your mouth–jeez, you needed to distract yourself. you hadn’t even kissed yet and you were already thinking about this.

“about that confession we discussed earlier…” you said to try to shake your attention away from those thoughts, trailing off. 

“what about it?” she mumbled, still not meeting your eyes. 

“you want to tell me about it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

she tore her gaze away from her lap to look off to the side at nothing in particular, chewing her lip nervously, then looked back–finally making eye contact. you couldn’t read her expression as she stared at you. then, she sucked in a breath and raised her eyebrows.

“do i?” she challenged. 

a lazy smile rose to your lips at her attempt to gain back control. one of your hands moved from where it rested on her hip to wrap around her throat, not tight like you were squeezing, but enough that you could pull her face closer to yours. your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your nose against hers teasingly, having no intention to press your lips together–just like what she was doing earlier.

“i think you do,” you whispered, brushing your bottom lip against hers intentionally, “and i want you to.”

you could feel the way her pulse raced under your fingertips, beating at a speed that didn’t seem possible, and you tried not to laugh about how nervous you were making her. you couldn’t say too much though, because yours was probably beating at a similar speed too. why wouldn’t it be with this beautiful girl in your lap?

paige let out a shaky breath to try to pull herself together, the hot air fanning over your mouth. her mouth opened like she was about to speak, but she couldn’t think straight like this. with your mouth in such close proximity while you keep denying her of the kiss she so desperately wants. she knew she could lean forward and close the gap herself, but there was an unspoken game of chicken going on now–she was determined to win.

“you don’t have to tell me, baby,” you said gently, tracing your thumb up and down the side of her throat. “but then you’re not going to get what you want.” 

“you already know what i’m going to say,” she mumbled, attitude soaking into her tone.

you smoothed your hand over her thigh absentmindedly, above her shorts as much as possible of course, from her knee all the way up to where her thigh met her hips, your thumb running over her bikini line. she just hoped you couldn’t tell how worked up the motion of your thumb was making her feel–that you couldn’t feel her pulsing through her shorts.

“i don’t think i do,” you replied innocently, shaking your head.

she groaned in a mixture of annoyance and impatience, and would definitely dramatically throw her head back to go along with it if you weren’t holding her neck in place. not that she was complaining about that, of course. she stuck her lip out slightly in a pout, staring at you with pleading puppy dog eyes–like that was going to help her case. 

“you were so bold before i pulled you into my lap. what happened?” you teased, using your thumb to trace circles into her bikini line. honestly, you were just touching her because you wanted to in the most innocent sense, you didn’t even realize that you were that close until you glanced down. 

when you looked back up, paige was still looking at you with those eyes. suddenly, you had an idea, something that could hopefully speed this process along by making her so desperate that she caves. 

this was definitely not how you thought this night was going to go. 

without breaking eye contact, you slowly slid your thumb to the side. not all the way over, just enough that if she didn’t want to keep going, she could easily slap you away. she didn’t, though, so you did it again, but this time you moved far enough that it was on top of her clit through her shorts–and she was already pulsing. you figured she would try to act like it didn’t effect her, but when she broke eye contact to look down at your thumb as a quiet gasp left her throat and her hips jolted forward, it was hard to deny.

“i want to touch you so bad, baby, i do. i want to make you feel so good,” you said, your tone a little more whiny than you intended, “and i will–” you paused, moving your thumb in achingly slow circles. she sighed at the touch, obviously thinking she got away with it. you leaned forward a little like you were going to kiss her, but moved to whisper in her ear instead, “if you tell me what you were going to say.”

you stopped abruptly, moving your hand away altogether to rest on her back instead. she whimpered at the loss, shifting her hips a little, but it wasn't enough contact for her to be chasing the feeling anyway–just enough to be disappointed that you stopped.

“i wasn’t going to say anything you don’t already know,” she said, trying her best to keep her tone under control but some attitude definitely still slipped in.

“then why are you being so stubborn?” you asked, squeezing her throat for a second but loosening your grip almost immediately.

she clenched her jaw, the frustration visibly bubbling up inside her. she didn’t know why she didn’t want to say it. and her confidence from earlier had subsided, so it felt even more difficult. maybe it was because if she admitted, spoke it aloud, everything would change. you wouldn’t be able to proudly wear the title of friends anymore–you’d be more. it wasn’t that she didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do her dirty, it was the potential risks of what she was losing, no matter the outcome. the reality check for why people say not to get involved with your teammates was a tough one to get smacked in the face with. 

“i–” she started, but cut herself off before anything meaningful could come out of her mouth, looking anywhere but at you.

you decided to let your hand drop from her throat, instead resting that one on her back as well, tracing comforting circles with your fingers in an attempt to be encouraging. 

“it’s okay,” you said softly, trying be reassuring while still standing your ground. “i won’t hurt you, okay? you know that. and you know i feel the same way. i just want you to say it.” 

“i know,” she whispered, picking at the skin around her fingernails. immediately after she started, you grabbed her hands and laced your fingers so she couldn’t, so she couldn’t tear them apart and make herself bleed from the anxiety. “i just–i don’t know.”

you waited a few moments before responding, taking a deep breath to calm your own nerves. “paige, you know the feelings i have for you are more than just friendly,” you paused to use your intertwined hands to tilt her chin up to force her look at you. “and i think you know that i’m falling in love with you. and i know you feel the same, right?”

she bit her lip, glancing down before bringing her eyes back up. “you do want to kiss me?” she asked, her voice was both serious and unserious when she asked, like she knew but was making sure.

you blew a laugh out of your nose, smiling fondly at her. “yes. goddammit, i really do,” you untangled your hands to rest them on her legs, so high on her thighs you had to slide them under her shorts. “i just want you to say it first.”

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. there were other things you wanted to say, too, like how you would finger her until she came, eat her out until she cried–whatever she wanted–if she just said it, but it felt like too much for the vulnerable moment. you didn’t want her to feel like you were using her while she’s trying to be open about her feelings. 

“okay,” she said, like she was just now mustering up the courage after dancing in circles around it for this entire time. she blew out a breath, “i love you.”

“i know that,” you replied, nodding your head for her to go on. that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, and she knew that. that was something that you two had said to each other as friends, so it didn’t really hold the same weight. sure, it had a whole different meaning now, but you had heard her say it a thousand times before.

she sagged her shoulders in disappointment for that not being enough. yet still nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her lips–her visibly shaking fingers. 

“damn, you’re acting like you’re taking free throws in a close game right now,” you said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“shut up,” she said, shaking her head with a smile, lightly smacking your chest with the back of her hand. she breathed out again, making eye contact with you. “i think i’m falling in love with you,” she said with confidence, pausing like she was contemplating if she had enough courage to add to it, “and i have had feelings for you since the day we met. i never wanted to be your friend.”

you were taken aback by the newfound information, your face contorted into a surprised expression while you jerked your head back slightly. “what?”

she covered her mouth with her hands and widened her eyes, but you didn’t know if she was shocked that she actually had the courage to say it or if she was shocked that she said it–if she didn’t want you to know that part. but it looked like she was smiling under her hands, judging by the way her under-eyes were a little scrunched, so you would have to assume that she was shocked by her sudden courage to just start admitting things.

her hands fell from her face, revealing she really was smiling under them like you predicted. “i’ve been plotting on you since day one.”

you shook your head in disbelief, closing your eyes for a moment and opening them to check if you were dreaming. you squeezed her legs a little too, then used your thumbs to rub circles into her bikini line–similar to earlier, but you hoped she was feeling it a little more than just some tracing. “you’re lying,” you said definitively. 

“nah,” she giggled, her hands coming up to rest on your chest, her fingers rubbing your collarbone delicately. “i remember when i walked into my first ever practice. you were, like, standing under the basket talking to someone and i literally could not stop looking at you because you were so pretty.” 

you grinned at her, not her words, but at her excitement. she looked like a kid in the candy store while smiling and giggling like that. you couldn’t help but reach up to pinch her cheek lightly, which you honestly did often, so she wasn’t phased

“and then,” she started again, “later in that practice, we were doing defensive drills or whatever. i went to go shoot this layup and you blocked the shit out of me. you fell on top of me and all i can remember thinking is damn, it’s a great day to be a dallas wing.”

you squeezed her hips, not super tight but not gently either, enough to grab her attention. she shifted her gaze back to yours, her smile staying put. 

“you wanna know what i thought of you?” you asked softly, maybe even a little suggestively. 

she nodded her head in reply, so you slid one of your hands back around her throat. you squeezed a little, but only for a few seconds and not very hard, causing her to let out a shaky breath. you pulled her towards you gently. “when i first met you, i thought…” you whispered, trailing off. you brushed your noses together like you had done earlier, her pulse, yet again, pounding beneath your fingertips. “…that you were…” you glanced at her eyes to see where she was looking, only to see that she had closed them in anticipation. you brushed your top lip against her bottom lip, feeling accomplished when you heard her suck in a breath. “…really fucking annoying.”

before she even had time to react to what you said, you captured her lips in a kiss. she kissed you back effortlessly, matching your slow and soft rhythm, hands subconsciously fisting your shirt. it was so easy for your first kiss together, like you had been waiting a lifetime to do this. her lips were warm and soft against yours. maybe even a little familiar–like coming home after being away for so long. you slid your hand down, away from throat down to rest it on her hip.

paige pulled back sharply, her hands on your chest pushing you away. “annoying?” she asked like she couldn’t believe you said it. “that’s what you thought of me?” 

you laughed, keeping your eyes trained on her lips, desperate to lean in and kiss her again. and you tried, you really did, but she kept her hands and arms stiff so you couldn’t move. “well no, it wasn’t just that day. i definitely do still think that,” you teased.

she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. maybe any other time you would’ve had a little more self-control and acknowledged that she was trying to make you feel bad for her, not horny, but your mind was already swirling with arousal from having a pretty girl sitting in your lap–your pretty girl. you couldn’t help but let your gaze shamelessly wander over her exposed arms, her muscles popping so deliciously that you could probably go feral over it. if you weren’t throbbing before, you definitely were now goddamn. and if she was talking, you couldn’t hear her.

your hands subconsciously tightened on her hips as you bit your bottom lip. maybe you should take pictures of them, just like this, to put in a frame. maybe even print out a poster to hang on your ceiling so you can fall asleep happy every night. 

“jesus,” you muttered when she moved her arm a little because it showed a little bit of the definition. it almost under your breath but not quite, not even realizing you said it out loud.

“you’re not even listening,” she stated. honestly, it felt like a movie scene–her voice fading in after a dream sequence. and it was, those arms were definitely what dreams are made of. you would probably let her put you to rest in a chokehold because at least you’d go out with the one thing you loved the most.

“hm?” you hummed, flicking your gaze back to her eyes after much, much difficulty. “you were talking?” you asked jokingly, trying to keep a serious face.

she didn’t say anything, just rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. she shifted her body a little bit, like she was going to get off of you, but you used the grip you had on her hips to pull her back down and still her. her lips thinned into a tight-lipped smile from annoyance, but it didn’t linger on her face for very long.

you held eye contact with her as you shifted one of your thighs inwards under her body, until it was pressing against her through her shorts. her breathing stuttered subtly, so slight that you could’ve been imagining it. after waiting for a few seconds to see if she was okay with this, you used your hands to guide her hips, rolling her forward to grind against your thigh. she broke eye contact to look down at your leg between hers, her lips parting.

you kept your eyes trained on her face though, watching her reaction to the feeling. your own lips were parted too, and you were surprised there wasn’t drool coming out of your mouth at the sight of her. you rolled her hips again, extra slow so you could feel the way she was pulsing against the muscle. her hands flew to grip your shoulders as a result, fingertips digging into your skin. 

after that, she didn’t need any extra guidance. you let your hands fall onto the couch on either side of you, watching as she rolled her hips at a teasing pace against the muscle of your thigh, whimpering as she did so. it wasn’t quite fast enough to chase an orgasm, but it wasn’t slow enough to be considered teasing either. 

you already knew you were soaking through your underwear from this–watching her get herself off like this. you had the urge to kiss her, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away. and there were so many things you could say, too, but you were just too mesmerized to form a word.

one of her hands loosened the grip on your shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, her thumb touching the side of your jaw. after a few seconds, she tore her eyes away from watching herself, shifting her gaze to your eyes. you noticed her pupils were blown with pleasure, making you clench your thighs a little involuntarily to try to find some friction.

her eyes flickered down for a split second, making it obvious she noticed. you didn’t expect her to do anything about it because she was busy working on herself, and you were more than happy to just watch. yet she smiled, sliding her hand from your neck down your body. without hesitation, she used her thumb to rub circles over your clothed clit. 

“fuck, paige,” you said, your voice strangled in surprise. the barrier between her thumb and your clit provided the right amount of teasing that was making your brain short circuit.

then as soon as it began, she suddenly stopped, stilling her thumb and slowly lifting herself off your leg. you watched with a curious expression, trying to figure out what she was doing without directly asking her. but she stood there awkwardly like she didn’t know what to do, her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her shorts at her hips, her eyes trained on you.

it didn’t take you too long to catch on.

“do you, um,” you paused to swallow nervously, “do you want to take those off?”

she nodded slowly in reply. you scooted to the edge of the couch, holding your hands out for her, and spread your knees as an invitation for her to stand between them, which she did immediately. you looked up at her through your lashes as you leaned forward to press a kiss against the waistband, snaking your hands up the back of her thighs under her shorts to cup her ass.

she placed a hand on your head, weaving her fingers through the strands–meant to be comforting more than anything else. 

you ran your hands back down, stopping halfway to use her legs as leverage. once again, you leaned forward. only this time, you mouthed over her clothed clit a few times, holding eye contact with her while you did. she blew out a shallow, shaky breath of both pleasure and nervousness. then, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down her legs achingly slow. when they were halfway down her thighs, you leaned forward to flick your tongue against her clit, feeling too impatient to wait any longer.

her body jolted at the contact, eyes closing and mouth dropping open, not expecting it so soon. you pulled away slightly to watch her reaction, breath hot against her as you watched to make sure she was okay–that she didn’t want to stop. after a few seconds, she opened her eyes to stare down at you because what the fuck was taking so long? 

she whimpered, using her hand to lightly push your head back to where she wanted it. you smiled at the feeling, loving how desperate she was for you, how impatient she was for your touch after getting just a tiny little taste. 

“keep going,” she borderline cried after about a minute of not touching her.

“please?” you said as a reminder, smiling innocently. 

“please, keep going,” she corrected herself. she couldn’t even bring herself to be stubborn or fight about it at that point, she just wanted you to touch her already.

you nodded like you understood, leaning closer to her like you were about to give her what she wanted, then jumped to your feet. her eyes flew open, wildly searching the room for a reason why you weren’t literally on your knees eating her pussy right now. you couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. she grabbed your wrist, tugging on it like she was going to throw a tantrum. 

who knows, maybe she would if she didn’t get what she wanted.

but you weren’t really in the mood to wait either, so you would let it slide this time. you used the arm she was hanging onto to pull her toward the couch, pushing her down on it as you sank to your knees on the floor. she watched you nervously, her breathing almost as rapid as her heart rate. and she didn’t know what to do with hands, so they were next to her in the couch like yours were just a few minutes ago.

you cupped the back of her knees with your hands, yanking her towards you so if you dropped her, she would only be halfway on the couch. and threw her legs over your shoulders so she didn’t fall, catching a glimpse of how wet she was.

there was barely any hesitation before you licked a flat stripe up her center and took her clit in your mouth to alternate between sucking gently and swirling your tongue around it.

“oh my god,” she moaned. she tangled both of her hands in your hair, already grinding against your face and tongue.

“i’ve barely touched you,” you commented, using the opportunity to come up for air.

“don’t care. i don’t care,” she said. “i just want you to fuck me. don’t care about anything else.”

“nothing?” you spoke against her so she could feel your lips move, a little amused by the way she was acting. 

“no,” she shook her head quickly, her back arching off the bed involuntarily.

you kept your eyes trained on her, watching the way every circle, every flick would effect her. the way they would make her face contort and force moans from the back of her throat. how she was struggling to keep it together. the way her stomach would flex and hips would buck. 

you touched your finger to her entrance, swirling it through her folds, the teasing making her whine. “so needy for me, paige. i’ve wanted to see this for so long. to watch you fall apart in front of me,” you said, your voice low with desire. 

the desire wasn’t even because you wanted to come though, you just wanted to please her.

without warning, you pushed your finger inside her, curling like you had done it a million times before, like this wasn’t the first time you were getting to explore her body. you added a second finger, watching her gasp and throw her head back at the intrusion, but grind her hips up to try to meet your rhythm still–like she didn't even realize she was doing it.

“fuck, fuck,” she moaned, her voice going up an octave. “i’m a fucking mess for you. shit, let you ruin me whenever you want.”

you sped up your pace at her words, wanting to see how whiny and need she could really get if you got her close to the edge–the things she would say. you definitely would have to try other things with her just to see.

“mhm,” you hummed against her. “you have no idea what you do to me. i’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

and then her hips started uncontrollably bucking, stomach flexing against her will, but she was still trying so hard to hold off her orgasm despite that.

“paige, it’s okay,” you tried to reassure, unsure why she was doing that. you hadn’t told her she had to ask permission or anything. “you can come, it’s okay.”

“no, no, it’s too good. don’t want to yet,” she whined, her legs clenching together hard around your head. “want you to keep fucking me.”

the words shocked you a little bit. you weren’t sure if you had ever heard say something anything like that. that they didn’t want to come? that sounded crazy, you couldn’t even get on board with that yourself.

but of course, you did what she said. who were you to deny a pretty lady of the pleasures in life?

even though she didn’t ask you to, you turned your head to nip at the skin of her thighs, just to lessen the stimulation and give her a little more time like she wanted. you kept pumping your fingers though, pumping them as deep as you could and then curling them until you hit the spot that had her crying out in a borderline scream.

“no, don’t stop, please,” she said almost immediately. 

you did as you were told, moving your mouth back to her clit. you were still hesitant, though. this was uncharted territory for you and you didn’t really know what to do here. you maintained a slow pace, trying to do what she said while honoring her other wishes of wanting to last longer. 

as you expected, it only took a few more pumps of your fingers before her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and back arching off the couch in an orgasm. you worked her through it, slowing your pace a little bit. you could only assume it was a hard-hitting one, because the only sound you heard was a chant of thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

you kept pumping your fingers achingly slowly as she came down, making her body twitch underneath you, but you weren’t even sure if she noticed. 

when she was finally mostly still, her chest heaving, you pulled them out just as slow. she opened her eyes slowly, immediately smiling when she focused on you. 

purely out of curiosity, you agreed to meet her, over dinner at your favorite restaurant. much to your annoyance, your father’s fiancée was lovely — sweet, thoughtful, allowing you to set the boundaries you wanted to set.

so once you walked out of the restaurant and your father asked you how you felt, you told him that maybe it wouldn’t really be so bad for him to get married. after all, you’ve always wanted him to be happy. what kind of daughter would you be if you denied him that?

even though you’d never admit it out loud, you were afraid. afraid that the love and attention your father had always given you would become less, or perhaps even disappear entirely. it had always been you and him against the world, but now that he had someone else to love, where would that leave you?

you were terrified of ending up alone.

which, in retrospect, is a fear you never needed to have. because several weeks later, your dad’s fiancée showed up to your home with her son — mingyu.

a boy your age, with your and his birthday only two days apart. young, a lean physique, sharp features, tan skin and dark hair. a smart kid, at the top of his class, easy to talk to, remarkably athletic. one to stand out in a crowd.

at the time, you figured it could’ve been worse. mingyu didn’t seem all that bad, so you told your father you wouldn’t protest against the merging of your two families, as long as your space was respected.

besides, your house was big enough to get away from everyone else, if needed.

the wedding took place about two months after, the day still vivid in your mind: the creaking wood of the asbury staircase as mingyu’s mother took the first steps in her perfectly tailored wedding gown, the clinking of champagne glasses, the shining chandeliers and candles in the dark, dimly lit hall.

you remember standing beside your father as he gave his vows to his soon-to-be wife, though you were a little distracted staring into the eyes of kim mingyu, who was looking so dashing in his suit whilst beside his mother.

in hindsight, it’s a little ironic you and him were dressed in matching outfits — back then, you didn’t know how much he would come to mean to you.

because in spite of your opposing personalities, you became inseperable.

perhaps you balance eachother out. mingyu is on the impulsive side; talkative, outgoing, tends to wear his heart on his sleeve. you’re controlled, reserved, quieter than he is. terrifyingly composed, and a little mean sometimes. if you want to be.

those characteristics have always set you apart, to the point it almost made no sense you got along that well. but you meet eachother in the middle, with him matching your ambition, intelligence, and greed like no one else has been able to. he’s become more arrogant since meeting you, too. in turn, you’ve begun to pick up his tics and habits.

in a certain way, you’ve always considered yourselves pieces of a puzzle — both with sharp edges, only softening up when you’re around one another, only allowing yourself to click with him and he with you.

you’d spend time together, go on day trips, watch movies together, wordlessly sit in eachother’s rooms whilst doing your homework. if either of you was gone for the day, the other would always know where they were.

the two of you became a package deal.

your parents couldn’t be happier, seeing how well you got on, and when your father joked about how you could’ve been twins, it became like a brand on your relationship.

the twins. it’s what everyone began to call you over the years — it’s even how you started to introduce yourselves to people who were new in town. people always asked him about you, and in turn, you about him.

both of you thought your affection for the other was like that of siblings. you joked together, bickered like a brother and sister would, felt comfortable with one another. no one around you ever seemed to think it was unnatural.

but there was something brewing underneath the surface. something obsessive and all-consuming. it’s not until you and mingyu get older that it becomes visible.

years later, both adults, you’re all grown up.

you’re walking around in clothes that cling to your body perfectly, regularly choosing tops with a deep cleavage or little shorts and skirts, your hips hypnotizing mingyu every single time you’re around him. and you find he looks criminally good with his broad shoulders, styled hair and toned upper body — those hours he’s been spending at the gym have certainly not been without result.

the attraction towards one another is beginning to stir in your gut, but naturally, you don’t act on it.

not directly, anyway.

𝓐T NINETEEN, mingyu’s girlfriend looks like you. 

she’s got almost all your features. the hair, the eyes, the skin tone — it only strikes you once you and her happen to be in a photo together. but you assume it’s just a coincidence; if the people around you don’t see the resemblance, why should you? maybe your jealousy has you imagining things that aren’t really there.

so you try to shrug it off. it’s not like you can casually bring something like this up in a conversation.

mingyu, for the longest time, has been convinced that the affection he’s always held towards you is normal, and that he actually likes his girlfriend. but what gets him going isn’t the sound of her moans or her bouncing breasts with every motion of her hips as she rides him ­― it’s her nails.

sharp, almond-shaped, painted in that shade of emerald green he caught you wearing just yesterday, and seeing those nails dig into his skin makes him think of you.

what would you sound like if you were on top of him?

the idea of you in his bed pops into his head over and over again. it makes him feel ashamed, which is a rarity on his part — what’s wrong with him? is this a normal thing? he’s not—he can’t like the thought of his sister fucking him.

he sure as hell can’t be getting hard from the mere image of you begging for your sweet brother to fuck you into oblivion.

but he does.

and it keeps happening. he prefers to take his girlfriend with her face pushed down into the mattress so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye; so he can pretend it’s you he’s fucking.

there’s no one he can turn to about it. can’t tell his friends, his family, or even a damn psychologist. everyone would think he’s clinically insane, and if something like that got out…

well, it wouldn’t be good.

normally, he goes to you if he’s struggling with something, but this he obviously can’t talk to you about. shit, you’d probably call him disgusting, and not in the joking, teasing manner you usually do.

he can’t risk losing you.

but, he figures, this might be nothing more than a phase. something that seems like a huge issue right now but will blow over in time.

unfortunately for him, it doesn’t change. matter of fact, three months later, he’d even say it’s gotten worse.

the decision that you and him are both set to attend the same university comes as no surprise to your friends and family. they know how moody you get when you’re apart. you’ll be starting different majors, but still in the same faculty, still tied to eachother.

now that you’ve finished your first semester, you’ve started to see this guy from uni, who conveniently enough also happens to be one of mingyu’s classmates. pure jealousy rushes through his veins every time it crosses his mind.

“you know, i really fuckin’ hate your boyfriend. you can do better.” he blurts out to you at a certain point.

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

“have you told him that?”

“well, he’ll figure it out soon enough.”

mentally, mingyu feels relief. he doesn’t want his sister to end up with some douchebag, though the good guys in his circle haven’t really earned any points either. so far, he hasn’t met anyone worthy of having you — no one would have the sense of understanding you the way he does.

after all, no one knows you like family.

the first nail in his coffin comes on a regular thursday night, when he catches a glimpse of you and the guy who’s supposedly not your boyfriend sneaking into your room after going out, much to his displeasure.

with your rooms next to eachother, mingyu has to pass yours to get to his.

it’s already late anyways, so he heads upstairs to go to bed, simultaneously planning to stand outside your door for a moment to try and listen in on whatever you and that asshole are doing.

what he doesn’t expect is for the door to be ajar, or for you to be naked and writhing underneath the guy he’s gonna have to face in class next week.

his cock twitches as he pushes the door open just a tiny bit further, selfishly spying on you, ‘cause fuck, this may be the horniest he’s been since hitting puberty.

whether you intentionally left your door open or not, he doesn’t know. but one thing he does know is that you don’t mind him watching, or maybe you even like it. because when you turn your head, you directly lock eyes with him, continuing to look at mingyu while holding onto the guy for dear life as he pounds into you.

christ. it’s so audible how wet you are, the obscene noise of your dripping pussy echoing through the room. he’s growing unbearably hard in his pants, aching for some kind of friction, having to force himself not to touch his hard-on.

mingyu is upset. not because he ends up busting in his pants from the sight of his sister getting fucked — he’s upset because your virginity was taken by someone who isn’t him.

a few days later, you bring it up for the first time, right as he’s standing behind you in your room, zipping the back of your dress, as per your request.

“y’know, gyu, i didn’t expect you to be into voyeurism.”

it takes every bit of willpower not to choke on his own spit while giving you a reply. “since when are you an exhibitionist?”

“you say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“never said it was.”

it’s silent for a moment. mingyu stares you down, his face almost indifferent — it’s the erratic breathing that gives him away. his gaze lowers from your face to your chest, and as always, you’re enjoying it.

your brother has a habit of being surprisingly bold sometimes.

“did he give it to you good?”

the question makes you smirk. “after watching the show, do you have to ask?”

“i didn’t stay for the entire... act.”

“why? you didn’t like it?” you ask, tone entirely neutral. “a different position next time, perhaps?”

“you’d do that for me?”

“i’d do anything for you.”

brushing your hair over your shoulder, mingyu is unable to tear his gaze from the way your dress sits on your hips. he’d give anything to touch and analyze every inch of your skin, take his time with it.

the moment is interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket, and you gesture for him to take the call, the exact contrary of what he wanted you to do. he has to force himself to leave your room, and you chuckle to yourself, relishing in the memory of your brother’s lustful eyes as you continue getting ready.

leaving the door open that night wasn’t planned. but when you noticed it hadn’t been properly closed up, knowing he had to pass your door and catch sight of you having sex, you felt a thrill rushing through your body.

and the fact that you’ve now both indirectly acknowledged that you enjoyed it sets something in motion. you each want to push the boundaries of your relationship bit by bit.

whenever he’s got something on his mind, he waltzes into your room like he always has, whether you’re decent or not. maybe he’s even hoping you won’t be.

but both of you enjoy a bit of a challenge.

you accidentally leave your door open when you’re changing, hoping he’ll come in and lay eyes on you. at night, you moan his name when touching yourself.

he’s grown so tall since you first met him — he towers over you now, all buff and strong, much bigger than your frame.

mingyu thinks you’re so obvious. you’re practically drooling over him when he’s standing close to you, your size difference causing you to lose that perfectly controlled attitude you’re always sporting.

and he knows one thing; he likes that feeling.

it gives him a rush like nothing else. it’s the only reason he posts pictures of himself when he’s at the gym, wearing those dark compression shirts that leave no muscles unnoticed.

it’s why he comes into your room, wearing nothing but a towel sitting dangerously low on his hips, asking you for soap since he’s ‘run out’ even though there’s still two entirely full bottles stashed away in one of his bathroom cabinets.

you stare at him. he’s somewhat able to hide his smug expression.

the attraction from your side is undeniable. it confirms what he already hoped: the way he feels about you is mutual.

he’s left wondering if you’ll decide to do something about it.

𝓐T AGE TWENTY, mingyu’s girlfriend starts to become annoying.

she’s all pouty when he has certain things planned with you, and it’s the first time she vocalizes how much she dislikes the amount of time he spends with you.

“it was never gonna be just you and me! it’s always you and her. if you love your sister so much, why don’t you just go screw her instead?” she yells at him in the heat of the moment.

it results in an argument where every insult he throws at her is like the slash of a knife. harsh, meant to leave a wound.

he makes her feel like it’s normal for you to be so important to him, causing his girlfriend to think she’s not even worth that much. he gets so fucking mean when it comes to you — you bring out the worst in him. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

like clockwork, she apologizes and says she overreacted.

for his own gain, he forgives her. god knows how long it’s going to take to find someone else who looks that similar to you but is still stupid enough not to realize she’s merely a placeholder.

truly, he has no idea how someone can be that blind. for whatever reason, she’s never noticed that he only buys her the bottle of perfume identical to the one you’ve got, or new sets of lingerie afwully similar to those sitting in your drawer.

a few weeks afterwards, they go shopping. he urges her to try on the same dress you wore a couple days ago.

she casually refuses because it’s not her style, not thinking too much of it. he breaks up with her two days later. if she can’t do what he needs her to do, he has no use for her anymore. so why keep her around?

you’re the first one he breaks the news to. he’s a creature of habit.

“i’m sorry, gyu.”

he immediately detects the fake sympathy in your tone. “are you?”

a simple shrug of your shoulders follows. it’s not like your dislike for the girl went unnoticed by him. “no, i never liked her. i’m just... trying to be a supportive sister, y’know.”

“yeah, i know.” he sighs. “to be honest, i don’t think i ever really liked her either.”

“good riddance, then.” a chuckle leaves your mouth, at which he smiles.

“hey, let’s go out tonight. i want to get drunk. and dance.”

“wanna go to seungcheol’s club?”

all he gives in response is a raise of his eyebrows, as if to say, “do you have to ask?”

it immediately gets you excited. your brother is finally a free man again, his schedule completely available for you.

not that he’s ever prioritized his girlfriend over you — but you’re happy the bitch is finally out of his life. it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

several hours after your conversation, you’re jumping to the music in the club, and mingyu has always been infatuated with you wherever you go, but your energy tonight is electric.

it might be that sharp cat eyeliner and smokey eye that makes you look even more seductive than you already are, or the little black dress that allows him the perfect view of your breasts. or maybe it’s the vodka dripping down your chin after you’ve taken a shot together.

he doesn’t know what it is — but it drives him insane.

you stay with him all night, giving a deadly glare to a few guys who try to dance with you, and when they catch the tall, muscled man beside you giving them the exact same look, they just assume he’s your boyfriend and leave you alone.

it takes hours before you decide you’ve had enough and head home. with a good amount of alcohol well into your system, you stumble through the backdoor by the kitchen, trying to get up the stairs.

luckily, the villa you live in is big enough for your parents’ room to be so far away that they can’t hear mingyu falling over one of the steps with a loud thud.

you laugh at him like you’re drunk for the first time, letting yourself sink to your knees next to him to get him standing upright again.

“oh my god, you’re fucking heavy. get your ass up.”

he groans like a child. “no, don’t make me.”

“too bad. come on.”

“why’re you always so bossy?”

“because i’m older than you.”

“by, like, two days.”

“still makes me older.”

“barely. ugh. you’re so mean to me.”

“please. you love it when i’m mean to you.”

sheepish laughter escapes him. “yeah. at least you’re fun. my ex just followed me around all the time. so fucking boring.”

“you need someone who challenges you. someone with bite. otherwise, you’re gonna be bored out of your mind.” you comment, sighing in defeat when you can’t get him to stand up, breathing heavily as you simply leave him be in his spot.

mingyu licks his lips. “i guess i need someone like you.”

you’re quiet at first, looking at him with narrowed eyes. of course you know what he’s doing — he’s testing out the waters, trying to see how far you’ll allow this mutual attraction to go.

tilting your head, you decide to indulge him a little. “yeah, you do. but i think you’re gonna have a hard time finding someone like me.”

“i know. but you ‘n me — we’d be perfect for eachother.” he breathes out, eyes widening at the realization that he essentially just confessed to you. “i—i mean, just… hypothetically.”

“hypothetically.” you whisper back.

either the alcohol has gone to his head or the wet dream he’s been having for the past years is finally coming true — mingyu swears you’re leaning in, and just when your lips are about to touch, the sound of a door opening somewhere causes both of you to stiffen up in your places.

the mere possibility of getting caught in this shameful manner gets you to sober up. mingyu is wise enough to stand up and drag you with him to the safety of the hallway.

leaning against the front of his bedroom door, he huffs. “jesus, that was close.”

“yeah.” you’re looking up at him, silently trying to convey you haven’t forgotten what he tried to do. “make sure you drink plenty of water, ‘kay? i’m gonna go to bed.”

he momentarily closes his eyes when you kiss him on the cheek, your lips lingering on his skin a little longer than they should.

always lingering.

his brows knit together, and he almost seems sad that you’re not planning on going into his room with him. was he imagining the way you gazed at him before?

christ, what is he even thinking? you’re his sister. it’d be so fucked up if you wanted to kiss him. he shouldn’t want to know what you taste like.

but he does.

out of fear of losing you, in the days after, he doesn’t bring up the moment you shared on the stairs. lets it fade like a distant memory.

or he tries, at least.

mingyu doesn’t know what to do anymore. no matter what he does, his thoughts keep drifting back to you. everything reminds him of you — he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t need a girl like you, he needs you.

very selfishly, he wants to make you see that you, in turn, need him. he’d be the perfect match for you, it’s only a matter of time before you realize it.

one night, while watching a movie, you fall asleep next to him on the couch.

and his perverted thoughts cause him to clench his fists. he can’t help it — you just look so gorgeous, snoring peacefully with your head on his shoulder.

god, he’d only have to move his arm the slightest bit and he could worm his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties.

what if he just slid his cock between your lips? what if he let you wake up to him slowly fucking your mouth? he wonders if it’d turn you on.

carrying you upstairs, he lays you down in your bed, forcing himself to look away from your chest when he sees you’re not wearing a bra.

what bubbles in his chest must be the kind of desire they speak about in the books. it’s something dark that claws at his ribcage, something that makes him want to do things he shouldn’t.

with heavy breaths, he leaves you by yourself in your room, rubbing an orgasm out of himself the moment he gets back to his own.

it suddenly gives him an idea.

he’s gonna have you make the first move — and he won’t stop pushing you until you will.

the following night, he heads into a bar, going up to the first girl whose physique is the most similar to yours. he takes her back home for a one-night-stand, secretly recording it without her knowledge. a shitty thing to do, but for a good reason, in his opinion.

he’s seated in his chair, pants and boxers down to his ankles, black tank top still on. his hands are on her hips, roughly pushing her down on his cock. grunts escape his mouth through gritted teeth.

in a way, he’s being so rough with the girl because he’s angry.

you’re not my sister. you’re not her. i only want her.

the words keep replaying in his mind like a mantra. he does everything to make himself think of you instead — he looks at the bouncing tits in front of him and pretends they’re yours, gags the girl by stuffing her mouth with her own panties, solely to drown out her annoyingly high-pitched moans.

the video turns out nicely. he’s able to crop the girl’s face out of it, leaving only the rest of her body in frame. so when he sits next to you on the couch later, he gets up to go to the bathroom, accidentally leaving his phone unlocked, showing the overview of his camera roll.

from the corner of your eye, you catch the thumbnail of the exact video he wanted you to see. with wide eyes, your cheeks flush crimson when you realize it’s a sex tape, and maybe you should feel a certain level of shame after you’ve sent it to your phone, but you don’t.

he hears your soft moans through your bedroom wall that night, grinning like a cat at the realization his plan is working just as he hoped.

just to annoy you, he takes home another girl in that same week.

once the foreplay is over, he’s about to reach for a condom, only to realize the box is empty. fuck, he forgot to buy new ones.

but then he thinks of you, and he comes up with a plan that makes him wonder how you’ll react to it.

he pulls his shorts on, telling the girl in his bed he’ll be right back, and he walks out of his room to knock on your door. you huff at the disturbance, mostly just annoyed he’s got a girl in his bed that’s not you.

leaning against the doorpost, he tilts his head. “i need a condom. i’m all out.”

“what if i don’t have any?”

“then i’ll have to send her home.”

“really? wow. not even gonna fuck her raw?”

that teasing of yours is getting to him — he wants to see you all hot and bothered for him, this time.

so he takes a step closer. “no, i’m not. i didn’t even fuck my exes raw.”

“saving it for someone?”

he nods. “yeah. so what’s it gonna be? you got any or should i send her home?”

his eyes quickly locate the small, carton box visibly sitting underneath your bed. there’s at least three condoms still untouched, neatly sitting in their plastic packaging, and you follow his gaze, looking at the box too before meeting his eyes again.

“seems like i’m all out. sorry.”

the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips comes slowly and subtly, and once you see it, you feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“good to know.” he murmurs, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a second. “goodnight, sis.”

frankly, he almost forgot the girl was still waiting in his room while speaking to you. he gladly sends her home, and she scoffs before leaving the house.

the only thing that sucks is that he’s gonna have to take care of his hard-on by himself now.

just when he’s about to head into the bathroom to take a cold shower, the door to his room opens, and he’s surprised to find it’s you. you don’t bother to ask if you can come in, immediately closing the door behind you.

“we tell eachother everything, right?”

the question sounds so innocent that he nearly grows worried there might be something else going on. “yeah, we do.”

“i don’t like it when you bring girls over.” you confess, attitude oozing with confidence. it’s always been like that between you — he’s confident as well, but there’s no one he wants to please more than you. and you’ve always known about that. taken advantage of it, even.

he takes a couple steps closer to you. “yeah, i know. but i want something i can’t have, and that means i have to distract myself. you understand that, right?”

“and what is it you want?”

mingyu is sick of hiding this from you. he needs to tell you about his true feelings — consequences be damned.

even though it’s glaringly obvious, he still feels nervous when he cups your jaw, his other hand sitting on your waist like it belongs there. “i want you. i’ve always wanted you.”

“how do you want me?”

“in every way you could possibly imagine.” he finally gets to admit it out loud, and it hits like a drug. “i’ve never loved anyone like i love you.”

your heart is racing. he puts his finger under your chin, lifting it so you’re looking him in the eye. you manage to breathe out, “i knew.”

“just had to see me work for it, huh?”

“i needed—i needed to see how far you’d take it. if you’d ever act on it.”

“and? did i do well? did i take it far enough?”

always so eager to impress you. it makes you dig your nails into his side.

removing your cropped top and shorts, you’re left in a black balconette bra and matching panties. mingyu’s mouth waters at the sight. “i think you should take it one step further.”

his breath hitches in his throat when he pulls you closer to him by the waistband of your underwear. like a starved man, he’s unable to take his eyes off your cleavage, yet gently running his thumb over your half-covered breast.

“i’ve wanted to hear you say it for so long. i still do. ‘cause we tell eachother everything, don’t we?” he questions, feeling himself tremble with need, wanting to get this out of you before going any further.

biting your lip, you finally give him what he wants to hear. “i’ve only ever wanted you, no one else.”

mingyu kisses you in a way you didn’t anticipate.

sweetly. innocently, almost.

it’s only once you kiss him back that it slowly transforms into something else. something more desperate and messy and needy.

he pours everything that’s been sitting on his mind for years into that kiss — undying love, selfish greed and desire. he doesn’t have to tell you for you to feel it.

then you break the kiss, reaching behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra. you let him tug at the straps, and he takes the fabric off your skin slowly, all to savor every bit of newly exposed skin.

he touches your breasts as if you’re some delicate doll. then he sinks to his knees, his eyes still locked with yours as he pulls at your underwear just as slowly, letting the black lace fall to the floor.

but patience has never been that much of a strong suit for him. once he lays eyes on your bare pussy, his tongue latches onto your clit, and he finally hears you gasp for him the way he’d always hoped you would.

with his hand on the back of your thigh, he’s pushing you against his face so much that you almost worry he can’t breathe.

while you’re still in charge, you feel like he’s so aggressive in pleasing you because it’s something he’s been wanting for so long, so you give into him, letting him take whatever he wants from you.

he moans into your cunt, humming against you, causing you to buck your hips. “fuck—oh, that’s so good.”

the praise works on him like drugs. his lips and chin are coated in your wetness, and he just wants more, obsessed with the taste of you. with one free hand, he palms his cock through the fabric of his shorts.

god, it feels like your arousal is just dripping down your core. you’re clenching around nothing, wishing he’d fill you up. just imagining the stretch of him nearly has you whining his name.

“fuck me. just fuck me, please.” you beg, almost forcibly having to pull his mouth off you.

mingyu looks up at you with big, brown eyes, nodding at your wish like a hypnotized man.

his body almost shakes from sheer excitement when you lie down on your back, all naked and wet and beautiful in his bed. all for him to use, to please, to love. he’s never wanted anyone more.

much to your surprise, he puts your legs up over his shoulders, bringing your knees up to your collarbones. the position is a new experience for you, and you breathe shakily when he pushes himself in, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him sheathed fully inside you.

“fuck—you’re so wet.” he hisses out when you’re subconsciously clenching around him, your pussy swallowing him up.

he drives his cock in and out of you. you’re so tight, so wet — it’s finally you he’s got in his bed. how many times has he already imagined having you underneath him like this?

the way you fuck is something akin to animalistic. it’s not just something you’ve both been aching to have for years, it’s something you’ve never had with anyone despite both of you having fucked others before.

it’s like you’re trying to crawl into eachother’s skin, like you want to bury yourselves in one another entirely. to become one in every possible way.

grabbing the top of the headboard, your moans are getting louder as he’s able to thrust harder into you. it’s the sudden jealousy flaring up that makes him do so. “y’know, every time i see my fucking classmate, i think of him fucking you that one time. did you let him take you raw?”

“no, i wouldn’t let him.” you breathe out, his cock hitting a certain spot that has you digging your nails into his back.

“no? only me?”

“only you.”

he’s panting, absolutely losing his mind over your heat sucking him in. he’d want nothing more than to yell at everyone that this is what you do when none of them are watching. you’re his. completely his.

and he just can’t help himself. “want your brother’s cum? gonna keep it all in your pussy?”

“yes! yeah, i promise gyu, i’ll keep it all inside—”

god, you get him fucking feral.

sweat is dripping down his neck as he continues to pound into you, whispering the confession about his obsessive feelings in your ear, “fuck, i just wanna be everything to you. i need to be everything to you.”

the words make you clench around him. “you are. you’re everything to me, gyu. i swear—”

just hearing you say it makes him feel insane — and something near animal inside him breaks.

the pace he sets is ruthless, knocking the air out of your lungs. “my best girl. my sister.”

you’re sinners of the highest order, both of you. indulging in something so utterly wrong that it should make you feel ashamed.

but there’s not an ounce of it to be detected. you’re only pulling him closer, he only fucks you harder.

and to make things worse, once you hear your parents walking past the door, he wants you to moan louder. solely to let the whole damn house know there’s no one who can make you feel as good as he can. no one treats you better than your brother.

you come around his cock with a pornographic moan, legs trembling over his shoulders, clenching on him so hard that it forces the orgasm out of him as well.

“am i really everything to you?” he asks breathily, the aftershocks of your pussy making his body twitch.

letting your legs down again, you nod at him. “you’re everything to me.”

hearing you say those words has mingyu feeling euphoric, like he’s succeeded in every way possible. to have someone love you the way you love eachother is like a burning, violent mark sitting beneath his ribs.

a mark only you can touch and connect with. a mark he’d never even show to anyone else.

only you.

𝓐T TWENTY-ONE, you and mingyu move out of the house, into an apartment together.

no one questions it — after all, you share mostly the same friends, go to the same university, and the apartment is spacious, each of you having your own bedroom. to anyone else, it seems like a perfectly normal situation.

then again, no one knows mingyu fucks you in every possible spot in the apartment. no one catches him lying through his teeth when he claims to be all hot and sweaty from working out when in reality, it’s because he was on top of you minutes before. no one recognizes the red panties scattered in his room, which are clearly from your closet.

any dates you each go on are solely for appearances. every girl sitting across from him in a restaurant makes him wish he could go home to you already. not a single guy taking you out is able to measure up to your brother.

at a certain point, you invite some study friends from class over. the group of girls catches a glimpse of mingyu saying bye to you before leaving for the gym.

the moment the door’s been shut, one of them asks if he’s single.

nothing about your calm and collected attitude shows your desire to shove your nails into her eyes. you respond with a chuckle, saying that you think he’s seeing someone. she doesn’t need to know he fucked you on the couch she’s currently sitting on.

several days later, she’s permanently expelled from university. it was kind of your father to work on such short notice, but he’d do anything for his daughter — all it took was you telling him how much she cheated on her exams.

not that she actually ever did.

you pretend to care when she calls, crying because she was kicked out of a place she was happy in. it’s a selfish world — why should you give a damn about her?

in november, you and mingyu are invited to joshua’s vacation house in switzerland, alongside a few of your other friends.

the cozy but spacious cabin offers everything needed on a winter vacation. it’s snowing outside, there’s a sauna and swimming pool on the ground floor, and the cabinets are filled with plenty of food and booze.

it’s seungcheol and mingyu who eventually choose to get away from the loud music, taking a bottle of tequila with them before going to the pool.

about half an hour later, you open the door to the pool, greeting the two. “why is it so fucking hot in this whole house?”

“why don’t you get in?”

“i would, but everyone’s drunk upstairs, and i think it’s gonna take approximately ten minutes before someone breaks an expensive vase or something.”

seungcheol, feeling ever so responsible as the eldest of the friend group, lets out a sigh before swimming to the edge. “i’ll go and check on them, maybe put soonyoung to bed. once he’s knocked out, we can all sleep comfortably. you can go in the pool, if you want.”

“well, i’m not gonna say no to that. let us know if you need any help, okay?”

“yeah, i will.” he says, climbing out of the pool, using his towel to dry off as much as he can before heading to the living room, which leaves only you and mingyu behind.

seeing your brother like this causes desire to stir in your gut. he looks so good — one arm leaning on the edge of the pool, his chest bare, hair wet.

it’s been days since you got here, and constantly being surrounded by others means you can’t touch him in the way you’d want to.

and he’s been teasing you relentlessly. being handsy underneath the table while you were all having dinner, grabbing your ass when everyone else was distracted, hands grazing your thigh as he walked past you.

he knows exactly how to rile you up. luckily, you know your brother just as well.

so you remove your turtleneck and jeans, watching the smirk on his face fall once he sees you in your lingerie. it’s not like you were wearing a bikini underneath your clothes, after all.

mingyu has to force himself not to gasp. “is that—is that a new set?”

“yeah. you like it?”

of course he does. one of his biggest weaknesses is seeing you in lacy lingerie, and this is the first time you decided to go for a new color — white. a stark contrast to the darker colors you usually go for.

he feels breath hitch in his throat when you get into the water right next to him, his pupils widening. “yes.”

tracing his biceps with your sharp nails, you press your front against him, and you feel him already half-hard in his shorts.

“you really do, huh?” you tease. as always, he’s utterly weak for you. if he’s got the power between you, it’s only because you let him have it — and it’s clear as day that you’re currently taking it back. “you wish you could have me right now, don’t you?”

despite the question being rhetorical, he’s always eager to show you his love. as if he constantly wants to prove no one could possibly love you as much as he does. “you know i do.”

mingyu hisses when your hand reaches down to fondle his clothed cock. “and you know what you’ve been doing to me the past few days.”

your faces are close — so close that it quickens his heartbeat. “do you have any idea how hard it is to hold back from touching you?”

“is it?”

“i can’t… not touch you.” putting your hands on his upper chest, you look up at him with sweet eyes, and he’s gonna start stumbling over his words if you don’t stop seducing him like this. “i can’t wait ‘til we get back home. just wanna be able to touch you properly again.”

“so you’re not gonna touch me right now?”

“i’d fuck you right here if i could—”

“how about tonight?”

getting you close to him by your waist, he pulls you into a searing kiss. it’s been too long since he’s been able to do that. “you know we can’t.”

“why not?”

“because the others will hear us.”

“not if we’re quiet.”

“as much as i admire your confidence, you’re never quiet.”

that, and the risk of someone catching him going into your room late at night is big. too big. but you won’t get out of this pool before you’ve persuaded him.

“then put your hand over my mouth. fuck me with my face into the pillow. i don’t care.” you tell him, pressing your lips to his jaw. “please.”

please. when it comes out of your mouth, he just can’t find it in him not to oblige you.

“you need it that bad?” the question comes out breathlessly, trying to focus on anything other than your tits pushed up against his chest.

“why don’t you come to my room in fifteen minutes and find out?”

watching you back away from him, you get out of the water, and the sight of your nearly naked body all wet makes him embarrassingly hard.

mingyu bites his fist in anticipation and excitement, the passing of minutes suddenly feeling like years.

what he should probably be more concerned about is the fact that for the first time ever, someone caught you kissing — someone who happens to be very close to him.

chan feels his head spin when he reaches the kitchen. he’s not sure whether it’s all from those beers or the sight of kim mingyu kissing his sister the same way he’d previously kissed all of his girlfriends.

he can barely comprehend what he just saw. it was a full-blown kiss, not some small peck — but he’s too drunk to talk about it. hell, he’s too drunk to even be awake.

it’s why he lets himself fall onto the soft, beige couch in the living room, and he’s already drifting off into a deep sleep when mingyu quietly slips into your room, the same way he used to do when you still lived with your parents.

the next morning, chan wakes up with cold sweat, the images of last night flashing through his head like a painful memory. what the fuck happened?

god, he needs to drink some water. and get some damn painkillers in his system.

getting up from the couch he fell asleep on, he drags himself into the kitchen, almost scared shitless when he finds seungcheol preparing breakfast.

“morning. hey, have you seen the twins yet? they’re usually awake by now.” cheol mentions, and if chan thought he wasn’t experiencing a fever dream yet, it certainly feels like he is now.

“i have no idea. none. zero. i didn’t even see them last night. at all.”

the elder of the two raises one of his thick brows. “jesus, you look like shit. if you’re gonna throw up, do it in the toilet, please.”

nodding frantically, he genuinely feels like he’s about to hurl, and he just wants to get out of here. “right. i’ll go and do that.”

half an hour later, he feels much better, the aspirin he’s taken easing his pounding headache — but what he saw last night remains heavy on his conscience, as if he were the one who did it.

at breakfast, chan watches you and your brother’s every interaction like a hawk.

the way you rest your hands on his shoulders like a wife would to a husband, how his fingers are always rubbing at your skin, the constant being around one another — it’s like a piece of the puzzle he didn’t know was missing has suddenly clicked for him.

how on earth has he never seen it before? you act like lovers yet everyone around you simply shrugs it off as if it’s normal.

he needs to talk to someone about this. but then again, if he chooses to discuss it with someone that isn’t either of the twins, and it comes out as untrue, he’ll be declared insane, probably.

so on the last day of the trip, he somehow musters up the courage to mention it to mingyu, but not without feeling his heartbeat all the way in his throat.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“look, i’m not trying to insinuate anything, but…” he starts out hesitantly, “were you with your sister last night?”

mingyu slightly tenses up, but recovers from the initial shock quickly enough for chan not to notice. “i was with a lot of people last night. what do you mean?”

“it’s—i don’t know how to say it.”

his words come out harsher than intended. “just spit it out.”

“i thought i saw you kissing her.”

there’s a palpable tension in the air, and chan seems much more torn up about the matter than the person in question.

chan doesn’t know what reaction he anticipated from his friend. would he be disgusted? angry? appalled? horrified?

but mingyu unexpectedly laughs instead. “what, on the cheek? we always do that.”

“on the lips.”

it’s like the air is suddenly sucked out of the room. the accusation is enough to drain his eyes of all playfulness that was previously there, and chan suddenly feels reminded of how much bigger and taller his friend is — or how intimidating he can look when he’s angry.

“the fuck did you just say to me?”

“i’m—i wouldn’t say something like this if i wasn’t completely sure of it.”

“if i wanted to kiss my sister—” mingyu inhales sharply, physically unable to completely refute the accusation, “—i would never do it publicly. obviously. do you realize how nuts you sound?”

“but i saw you, in the pool!”

“dude, you were black-out drunk! you could barely form a coherent sentence, let alone see things properly,” he retorts.

unfortunately, it is true. chan doesn’t remember the last time he had that amount of alcohol in his system.

he quietly stares at the floor for a moment, not knowing what else to say.

“didn’t you say something about those really vivid dreams you’ve been having lately?” mingyu asks innocently, manipulatively putting a caring hand on his friend’s shoulder.

chan’s recently begun to have difficulty waking up from his dreams in the morning, and he’s able to recall every detail once he’s awake. it frustrates him to no end, as he’s explained a while ago, and mingyu mentioning it to him causes chan to worry — what if he did dream the whole thing?

in retrospect, he’s so ashamed of himself. what if you really are just two affectionate siblings? what if he’s mistakenly accused you of having some weird, fucked up incestuous relationship?

shit. he must’ve seen things that weren’t there.

he buries his face in his hands. “oh my god, what’s wrong with me? i’m sorry.”

mingyu smiles to himself now that he’s distracted. “it’s okay. you thought it was real.”

“i shouldn’t have accused you of something like that. i’m really sorry. ugh, please forget i said anything.”

“i’m not one to forgive and forget. but i’ll let it go, alright?”

despite the mention he’ll keep it in mind, chan is content enough with the acceptance of his apology. “thanks.”

“good. well, i’m gonna go and pack my things. i’ll see you downstairs.” mingyu tells him, standing up from his spot.

though he suddenly halts his movement.

“chan?” he asks, hand on the doorpost as he looks back.

the boy in question looks up. “yeah?”

mingyu’s face is set sharp and stern, his voice still sounding surprisingly warm despite the cold words when he gives the warning, “never say something like that about me and my sister again.”

a brief silence.

chan swallows the sudden nervousness that’s blocking his airway. “right. of course.”

as if the entire conversation didn’t take place, the sweet, golden smile chan is so familiar with returns to his friend’s face. mingyu walks out of the room, heading downstairs, not at all worried that the façade you and him have been putting up for years is slowly beginning to crack.

someone will eventually discover the truth.

it’s only a matter of time.

𝓐T TWENTY-THREE, your parents inform you of your worst nightmare coming true.

they want both of you to start thinking about the idea of marriage — to people who are heirs of other prominent businesses, of course. the classic unspoken rule. it means the dating pool is limited to people from the upper class of society, and you’ll need to have your parents’ permission before even thinking about securing an inheritance.

marriage isn’t something done out of love in your circle. not often, anyway. your parents being genuinely in love with one another was simply a happy coincidence — an exception to the unfortunate rule.

you and mingyu are at your happiest when you’re together, but unless you run away from your current lives and start a new life elsewhere, a marriage between you is simply not done. not even if your parents divorced.

the idea of another man becoming your husband makes you sick.

“i don’t wanna get married, gyu. not to someone else.” you tell him, your head on his bare stomach as you’re lying in bed together. “i don’t want this to end. us.”

he caresses your cheek. “you think i’m gonna give you up to some guy?”

“well, last time i checked, unless we wanna get disowned and publicly shamed, you’re gonna have to.”

rolling his eyes at your dry tone, he slowly runs his fingers down your neck, comforted by touching your skin. “we just gotta make sure we get married for business only. we’ve managed to keep our relationship hidden for the past couple years, so why shouldn’t we be able to while married to other people?”

he has a point. it’s pretty much the only option you’ve got if you want to have the best of both worlds.

“we could get away after a couple years. once we get hands on our inheritances, we could… we could go abroad and get new identities. buy some secluded house, somewhere close to a small town. get married.” he proposes.

the words have you tracing your cherry red nails across his chest. leaving everyone and everything behind is scary, but you’re both willing to do it for one another. “i like that idea.”

pressing kisses to your collarbone, you let him touch you, sighing in pleasure.

it’s a few months after the conversation when your parents introduce you to wonwoo.

a little older than you, good-looking, well-mannered. he’s a surprisingly soft man underneath that stone-cold facial expression he always wears.

and wonwoo, at your first meeting, might just as well have fucking hearts in his eyes. he looks at you and thinks it’s love at first sight. your charm has him wrapped around your finger.

he thinks you’re perfect.

like the two-faced snake only mingyu knows you to be, you pull out every trick in the book to appease wonwoo. he bears the name of a family that’s loaded — they have almost as much in the bank as your own parents, and that is precisely what makes him a good marriage candidate.

it’s probably for the best that your brother is out of town when wonwoo proposes to you. he’s never been quite as good at hiding disdain as you are.

though even you have a hard time forcing a happy nod when you accept the ring mingyu would never have picked out for you — he’d have chosen a design more to your liking.

a while after your now fiancé has put a rock on your finger, you’re talking to him at a formal event, suddenly finding a much more pleasant face in the small crowd of chattering people coming up to you.

“wonwoo, this is my brother, mingyu.” you introduce them to one another. sure, your brother could’ve met him sooner than this if he wanted to, but he wanted to hold it off as long as possible.

your fiancé has no idea what the hell kind of family he’s stepping into when he extends his hand to mingyu. “you’re the man i’ve heard so many stories about.”

“only good ones, i hope. nice to meet you.”

there’s something dark flashing behind mingyu’s eyes when he sees wonwoo’s arm looped around your waist — he’s the only one who should be able to do that.

“mind if i borrow my sister for a bit?” he asks, the question being entirely rhetorical; he’s the last person who would ever need to ask permission to spend time with you.

your fiancé catches the dark glare he receives from your brother. the expression was only on his face for a split second, but it was something so sharp and harsh that it surprises him.

he knows for a fact he hasn’t done anything wrong. it lingers in his head, the memory playing over and over, and throughout every single day that follows, he begins to find the situation more alarming.

wonwoo, as perceptive as he is, thinks there’s something really off whenever seeing you and mingyu together.

the guy is so possessive over you. whenever wonwoo isn’t around, mingyu’s always got his hands on you.

wonwoo swears that hand of his goes a little lower on your back every damn time he sees it.

it gets him fed up. you’re his fiancée, yet you’re spending more time with that guy than with him. his first mistake is seeing you as this beautiful angel of a woman which you really aren’t — but love has a habit of blinding a person.

“she’s pretty close to him, isn’t she?” he asks joshua, one of your best friends, when you’re all at a charity event together.

the elder of the two follows the direction of his pointed finger, noticing he’s talking about you. you’re standing across the room, talking to a small group of friends with mingyu beside you. “the twins? yeah, they’ve always been like that. most close-knit pair of siblings i’ve ever seen.”

“have they always been so...”

“what?”

“i don’t know. intense?”

truthfully, he understands wonwoo — you and mingyu are already intimidating enough individually, bordering on unapproachable when side by side. who wouldn’t be intimidated? you’re both attractive, highly intelligent, always well-dressed, usually sharing that same stern look on your faces.

joshua nods. “pretty much. they’d do anything for eachother. not everyone can love like that.”

“like what?”

“ike brother and sister.”

it doesn’t sit right with wonwoo at all. it’s like he’s the third wheel, the dirty intruder, when it’s mingyu who should be feeling like that. how on earth is he supposed to make your marriage work if he doesn’t even feel included in the first place?

he’s not sure. but like the lovesick fool he is, he still goes through with the wedding. his second mistake.

you’re considerably colder towards him once the vows have been spoken and you’ve been declared husband and wife. you don’t want to spend any time with him, you live in separate places, even having his hands on you during public events makes your skin crawl.

of course he felt that, perhaps, you didn’t like him as much as he liked you.

he just didn’t think you never liked him at all.

he does his best to get you to do things with him that are not mandatory public appearances. wants to take you out to dinner, maybe go on a date, anything — anything.

but every single coversation you have somehow reverts back to business. as if you’re colleagues or associates instead of husband and wife.

wonwoo is just so desperate to make this relationship work. so maybe, he figures, he should approach the issue in a different way.

at a saturday night dinner with your family, he finds your brother outside, having a smoke break.

they’re not alike in the slightest. wonwoo is more uptight, stoic, with a good heart and a sweet voice. mingyu is messier — the half-long strands of hair that blow in the wind, quicker to react emotionally to things, more of an open book. a heart that’s everything but made of gold. he’s a selfish man and revels in it.

“so, how’s married life treating you?” mingyu asks him, only out of good manners. it’s not like he doesn’t already know exactly what is and isn’t happening between you.

“it’s... good. your sister is lovely.”

your brother decides to act like he’s genuinely interested in wonwoo’s side of the situation. “sounds like something is bothering you.”

“well, i mean — i’m sure you know your sister is a tough nut to crack.” wonwoo chuckles, despite not finding it the slightest bit funny.

mingyu doesn’t seem to like his choice of words — hell, he just doesn’t seem to like wonwoo speaking of you at all, as if you’re some saint, some holy being people are only allowed to talk positively about.

“my sister is a cold woman, sometimes. to certain people.”

“not to you?”

“less. i’ve grown to appreciate it. but she’s also warm. loving. special.”

wonwoo sighs. he wishes he could somehow get access to that side of you. it seems almost unimaginable from his point of view. “it’s like i can’t reach her, and i don’t understand why.”

the younger of the two just can’t stop the snide comment from slipping out. “how unfortunate.”

mingyu masterfully avoids wonwoo’s glaring eyes as he lights his cigarette, using his hands to cover the flame from the evening breeze.

“funny.” wonwoo mutters under his breath, and mingyu looks at him with intrigue, pushing his tongue against his cheek before speaking up.

“what is?”

“nothing.”

“you can speak freely, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“correct me if i’m wrong, but… it doesn’t really feel like you want me to get closer to her.”

mingyu does something wonwoo didn’t expect.

he says nothing. doesn’t correct him. it’s a silent way of confirming he indeed doesn’t want wonwoo closer to you.

the confrontation that’s been waiting to happen gets closer with every subtle insult, every insinuation of the dark truth.

mingyu finds himself defensive over you. “i think my sister should’ve married someone else. someone who sees her for what she truly is — you’re just a guy who will never understand her beyond who she appears to be on the surface.”

“and let me guess, you are the person who gets her?”

“you already know the answer to that.”

wonwoo is so far into the conversation, all the good manners and niceties are out of the window anyways; he might as well say whatever’s on his mind.

“there is something i cannot place about your relationship with her, and frankly, i find it unsettling.” he confesses. “everyone acts like it’s normal — how you’re always looming by her side, watching her, touching her.”

“is there a question in there somewhere?”

“you want her all to yourself, don’t you?”

“it’s not a matter of wanting, wonwoo.” mingyu tells him coolly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. “we’re twins. two halves, incomplete without the other. we get restless when we’re apart.”

the knowledge that you and him aren’t even actual twins sits somewhere in the back of mingyu’s mind — a fact he suppresses more each day, all so he can fall deeper into the rabbit hole, so he can feed his twisted fantasy of the girl he loves being tied to him in every way possible.

“why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?” he questions, excitement making his fingers twitch.

wonwoo’s heart skips a beat before finally asking what he’s dying to hear an answer to.

“do you want to fuck your sister?”

mingyu looks wonwoo dead in the eye while answering, the remainders of his cigarette sizzling in the tray beside him, “that’d be despicable.”

yet his face doesn’t quite match his words. there’s a hint of amusement and arrogance that really should not be there — it’s as if he’s daring his brother-in-law to do his worst.

mere seconds later, you step out of the house, approaching them to let them know dessert is about to be served.

your brother enjoys a bit of chaos. it’s the sole reason why he compliments your dress, shamelessly staring at your cleavage, right in front of your husband.

wonwoo seethes with jealousy. clearly talking to mingyu was a wrong move, but he thinks to himself it should still be possible to try and get something out of you.

when you’re getting ready in front of your mirror — only doing so at his apartment because you need to be seen leaving for a party together — he walks up to stand behind you, helping you zip up your dress.

you can’t breathe when his fingers linger on your skin. it’s like being suffocated. he could have his hands locked around your throat and it would feel the same.

“take your hands off me.”

he does as you ask of him.

“can i ask you something?” he clenches his fists out of nervousness. “what is our marriage to you?”

the question catches you off-guard, but you give him an honest answer. “an agreement. symbiosis.”

“except it feels like neither of us are benefitting from this union.”

“c’mon, wonwoo. you’re not stupid, so don’t pretend to be.”

your aloofness gets on his nerves. “what would you say i gained from this? because i have no clue.”

“a fruitful business relationship. status. more money. a wife from the right family. you should be overjoyed with this union, and frankly, i’m a little offended you’re not.” you scoff.

god, he thinks he’s genuinely about to jump out of his skin. “i thought i was getting married to someone who wanted me back.”

“you didn’t. and don’t you put that on me — have you ever even asked me if i liked you back? not that i can remember. it’s not my fault you chose not to see it.”

“okay, fine. that’s my fault. but don’t you—” he cuts himself off, trying to find the right words first, “—don’t you want to try and make this work? maybe we could… learn to love eachother.”

the word love is like a needle being forcefully pushed into your skin.

love is something sacred. who the hell does your husband think he is, expecting you to just give that to him? he wouldn’t recognize true love if you gave it to him on a silver platter.

“i don’t want your love, wonwoo. and do not think for a second you will ever have mine.”

he swallows his retort before leaving the room, and you allow yourself to lean against the wall, a sigh escaping you. how much longer will you have to keep dealing with him?

unfortunately, there’s no backing out of your planned attendance of the event tonight.

you put in your earrings and look at yourself in the mirror, and as you’ve done countless times before, changing your attitude is as easy as flipping a switch.

mingyu will be there, which is all that matters.

wonwoo looks utterly miserable in the car, so you reprimand him. “you’re a grown man. pull yourself together. i don’t feel like doing damage control with the press.”

neither does he.

it’s a fucked up feeling — to love someone you want to hate.

the very moment you get out of the car together, he puts on a surprisingly good façade, playing the part of the happy husband exceedingly well.

once inside, you lock eyes with mingyu, who thankfully enough doesn’t have a fiancée yet. not that no women want him, unfortunately. they’re trying to chat him up every damn time he steps out of his house.

wonwoo feels your hold on his arm loosen, following your gaze, and he tries to get you to stay with him. “we gotta get our pictures taken.”

“we can do that in an half an hour, too.”

“you can’t keep ditching me for your brother.”

“you can’t tell me what to do. maybe if you hadn’t been so unbearably annoying, i wouldn’t keep leaving you all the time.” you hiss back at him, abandoning your husband without a care in the world.

returning to mingyu’s safe arms finally allows your nervous system to relax. while you do return to wonwoo to take the promised pictures and meet some people, it’s mingyu you eventually leave the party with.

and wonwoo decides he’s had enough.

he’s got a gut feeling about mingyu and needs to know if he’s right. it’s why he follows you two going from the party to your apartment, watching you head inside from behind the tinted windows of his car.

it takes a few minutes of him sitting in silence to get out of the backseat.

where the confidence to follow you inside comes from, wonwoo has no clue, but it’s rushing through his system like drugs.

taking the key he took from underneath the mat, he quietly steps into the apartment.

there’s some noise coming from your bedroom. so he cautiously passes the living room, making sure he’s as quiet as a ghost while trespassing.

peeking past the doorpost, he finds you in bed, completely naked, with mingyu’s body on top of you, his hips roughly snapping against yours.

wonwoo finds the sight repulsive.

as it turns out, even the perfect twins have their defects. he just never anticipated it to be something this sick and twisted.

and yet, it makes perfect sense. it explains everything.

forcing himself to look away from your naked bodies, he runs a hand through his hair, leaving the apartment as quietly as he entered.

he waits for the next day, when you show up at his house, to confront you with it.

“i want you to stop seeing mingyu.” a valid thing to ask of you, he finds. he is your husband, after all.

by now, he knows to expect the deep frown on your forehead. “excuse me?”

“i know you’re fucking him.”

staring at him with a blank face, you say nothing at first. so wonwoo knows the truth. you might as well show your true colors, then. “took you long enough to find out.”

“either you stop seeing him, or i’ll get a divorce.”

“and what power do you think you have? our agreement isn’t that simple, wonwoo. you and me got married for business, not for love.”

“except i do love you. you just don’t love me.”

“well, get over yourself. i love one man, and it’s not you.” you tell him, words cutting through him, tearing him apart. “if you try to get out of this agreement, my brother will see to it that your reputation and your company are ruined. so keep your mouth shut and find love elsewhere. get a mistress, go nuts.”

it’s not the outcome he was hoping for, to say the least.

he no longer knows anything — what to do, how to handle this, where to put his love.

wonwoo really fucking hates that he’s still feeling the need to make you see reason. that your relationship with your brother is abnormal, unhealthy, a sickness. that he could offer you something much better.

“it’s not healthy. what you two have is obsession, not love.” he tries to tell you. another mistake. he just keeps making those when it comes to you.

“they’re two things that go hand in hand.” you shrug, clearly mocking him. “you’d know, wouldn’t you? your love for me got you to break into my apartment even though you knew i’d never want you to do that. because you were obsessive in finding out the truth about me and my brother.”

he clenches his jaw. “that is not the same thing.”

“maybe. we’re both trapped in this marriage. if it puts you at ease, it won’t be for the rest of your life. just a couple years. but for however long we’re married, i’m gonna make the best of it — i’d advise you to do the same.” you state, putting your bag over your shoulder. “goodnight, wonwoo.”

leaving him in his living room, you walk out the door, and he lets you go.

all he can do is pour himself another drink and mourn the love he will never have.

thank u for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it <3