#( SWEETIES ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimivx · 2 days ago

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Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Thank you thank you!!

Them finally together even if its just to talk 🥺

Thank you for reading 🥹 we’re almost done!!!

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part five} 9.3k idk how don't ask me warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

“I can’t deal with you straight people,” Ryujin muttered between bites of her lunch.

Glaring down at your phone screen, you grit your teeth. “Excuse me?”

She was focused elsewhere, at her desk in the room you used to share. Flipping the page in a textbook, she shoveled chips into her mouth and spared you a glance. “My bad,” she laughed. “You people who like dicks.” She put her eyes back on her pages and you put yours on the bathroom mirror. In your own room for the first time in two weeks, you were doing your makeup, preparing yourself to go to the field. There was an actual game today, the boys were playing the Bulls, the team they lost the World Series to last season. “You and Aurora both,” Ryujin shook her head. “Stop being stupid.”

With the flick of your mascara wand you scoffed. “What happened with Aurora?”

“She thought Yunho got her pregnant,” Ryujin roared, leaning toward her phone at the same time as you, your wide eyes making her laugh. “I’m serious! And that’ll be you if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

Releasing a breath you glued your eyes back on the mirror. Sitting on the cold counter with your makeup a mess all around you, you swapped mascara for brow gel and fixed them up. “I was drunk the first time, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you mumbled. “And, now, it’s like he’s trying to make it happen.”

Ryujin curled her lip. “Gross,” she whispered. “You’ve only been together like, what, two weeks, right?”

“Yeah, but,” you started, voice trailing off as you finished your brows. Snapping the tube shut, you twisted it vigorously, looking down at her. “If you count the month before this one, and then the few months three years ago, and then the few months a few years before that…”

“It doesn’t count,” she said, scanning her book, or trying to. “Your relationship wasn’t official, you’ve been together two weeks and the man is trying to purposely impregnate you. Why?” When she lifted her eyes, you pouted. “Isla,” she said, twisting in her chair to face her camera.

Voice quiet, you shrugged. “I told him.”

“About?”

“Vernon,” you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap fiddling with the tube of clear brow gel. “He asked me that night, when I first called you. I told you what happened at dinner and after, right?” She nodded, gaze laser focused. “He asked me one more time, when I wasn’t drinking, and I was honest with him, I told him I thought I loved him.”

“Thought,” she sneered. “Oh god, Isla, what the fuck am I going to do with you?”

Tossing your hands out to the side the tube of gel went flying across the bathroom tile. “What was I supposed to say to him? That I still do? That having to watch Vernon play everyday makes it worse, makes it harder to ignore?”

Ryujin blinked. “Yes!”

“How!”

She pushed her bangs from her forehead and picked up her phone, sitting backward in her chair. “You be honest with him. It’s not fair for you to have feelings for someone else while you’re dating him, it doesn’t matter who he is. I guarantee you he’ll have another girlfriend in a few weeks if you break things off with him.”

“Ouch,” you mumbled, and she shot you a look. “I’m just saying!” Twirling on the counter you jumped off of it, taking yourself into your room to change. “It’s still Mingyu, Rio. He was the first boy to ever treat me like I wasn’t someone’s little sister.” Propping the phone up against the television, you dropped to your knees to throw open one of your suitcases.

“What if that’s why he wants you though?” Ryujin questioned, the words sending a chill over your skin.

“Don’t even say that,” you said, pulling out different tanks and crop tops from the piles in your luggage. “That would suck ass.”

“Just makes me think,” she continued, “Like, he’s always chasing you when you’re around, right? What did he do when you weren’t?” He serial dated other girls and broke things off with them before things went too far, a fact you both knew. “Exactly.”

“But, he’s in it when I’m here,” you said, attempting any counteraction to her words that didn’t make you feel fantastic. Standing up you stripped out of your sleep clothes and situated your outfit for the day. Ryujin disappeared from the screen until you were finished. “Like, really in it.”

“Yeah, and he’s still in you right now,” she said.

“Stop!” you whined, buttoning your baggy jeans.

“Isla,” Ryujin spoke with caution, appearing on the screen as you snatched the phone up. “You want Vernon. You always have. Before you even knew it, you wanted him.”

“He doesn’t want me,” you said quietly, a frown pulling at your glossed lips.

“Because he’s a good guy,” she said. “He’s not going to put himself between you and Mingyu, he’s gonna let you do what you want to do, and not for nothing, you hurt him pretty bad.”

“I know, you don’t have to keep saying it,” you whispered.

Ryujin took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I think whatever you did to him before he left is the reason he got called up.”

As much as you wanted to laugh, the thought of you and Vernon in the Nasara locker room together shoved a knife into your gut. “He did it himself,” you said. “They were planning it the whole time, DK told me.”

She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips. “Sure.”

“He hasn’t tried to talk to me since that night,” you said, slipping into your shoes.

“Have you tried to talk to him since that night?” she asked.

The look you gave her made her laugh. “I can only… sit and watch him play. He won’t talk to me if I try, he basically told me to leave him alone anyways. Besides… if I try, it’s too scary.” Just the thought of walking up to him, even to say hi, it filled you with nerves. “So, I sit in the stands like I’m in high school and watch him play baseball while my boyfriend thinks I’m watching him.”

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that one to yourself again and again until it clicks, Jagi,” she said. Sitting forward, she messed with things on her desk and put the phone down, trying to get back into her work. “Try to enjoy the game, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, starting for the door.

“And, maybe,” she started, grabbing the phone one last time, “Maybe don’t go out and drink tonight? Spend time with your brother? Don’t let Mingyu take you anywhere.”

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping out into the hall after slinging your bag onto your elbow. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” she smiled. Then, right as you were both about to hang up, she shouted, “Condoms! Use them!” And you both hit the red button in fits of giggles.

People packed the field in thousands. For the first game of the spring training season, the Lions were against the very team who knocked them out of the playoffs, the two teams coming together for the first time since. Fueling your variety of nerves, the rivals against one another, seeing Vernon in the flesh, dealing with Mingyu, all those aside, the very thing eating you alive is the fact that Vernon is the only new player on the team. Brand new to the Lions, the big leagues, the MLB, a lot of pressure sat on this game, on him, even if all the eyes will be on the guys that lost it all.

Along the ride to the stadium you swiped in and out of your messages thread with him. The ‘v<3’ taunted you. Through the screen, messages from months ago, they kept you connected, the force or something, whatever it was they talked about in those Star Wars movies he liked to watch. He was anxious. He usually is before a game. No doubt this one would be worse than all others that have come before it.

Thumbs locked over the keyboard, the grey of his message sent in December staring at you, you sucked in a quick breath and held it as you typed. You typed fast, you wanted to close your eyes. Clenching your jaw you gulped and tapped the arrow, sending the message to him, letting the ‘remember to breathe’ get lost in the back of your worries as you stepped onto the concourse of the stadium buzzing with life. Different versions of Lions jerseys filled the space, raiding concessions, gathering water, buying more merchandise, especially the special edition spring training t-shirts.

On your way through the crowds, thankfully with little people spotting you, at least a hundred Lee Dokyeom jerseys caught your eye, the big red number 38 below his name making you smile. It’d been his number since he started the sport, that same number belonged to your dad. DK swore he’d hold onto it forever, he was lucky when the Lions let him have it after the trade, 38 belonged to one of their veteran players who still came back regularly to visit the team. Your brother has met him before, the tension over the number being taken dissipated within seconds of them shaking hands, the man with greying hair letting the world know he was honored to have such a phenomenal, humble player take over his legacy.

Sincere, kind words your father wouldn’t even spout about his own son.

You wanted to hug every single person in the stadium wearing it.

Where there were red, exciting Lions jerseys, there were grey and blue striped Bulls jerseys, the colors themselves drab and dreadful. Ugliest blue in the league. Unfortunate that both teams were legends in the league, the turnout was a solid fifty fifty. To make matters worse, Bulls fans were assholes, and not in the cool way. Disrespectful, foul-mouthed, and trashy.

The man with the sunglasses and beer belly poking out of his Mark Lee jersey shouting, “Dirty drunk!,” as you passed by him and his family, who you assumed was his wife and two daughters, he proved your point. Trained to keep outside comments out, you did what you did best, held up a middle finger without turning around or giving him the time of day. He turned little heads, and the ones he did were of Lions fans who caught wind of you and were quick to come to your defense. His senseless grumbles of, “The team slut,” and, “Gold digger,” were lost on you.

You hoped.

Rounding more lines and exciting chatter, a young girl with big blue eyes grabbed you by the wrist, stopping your brisk walk toward the first base line. She had to have been about twelve or thirteen, the top of her head came up to your shoulder, her frizzy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Smiling, flashing her pink braces, she took a shaky breath.

“It is you,” she breathed, glancing to her left like she was looking for someone. “Moon Isla, right?” Her smile grew wider when you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said. Taking her in, a whopping four feet and eight inches tall, you smiled with her.

“I knew it,” she nearly whispered, whipping her head side to side. “Mom?” she called out, waving frantically to a woman in a Lions jersey and jean shorts. The woman, just as tall as you, hurried to her side, glancing between you and her daughter. “It is her, I told you.”

“Oh my,” the woman sighed, giving you a once over. For a moment your stomach went sour, but then she opened her mouth. “She adores you,” she said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder. “DK is her favorite player. He was her dad’s favorite, he’s deployed right now,” the two shared a look, “We plan to come to as many games as we can, for him.”

“That’s amazing,” you said, folding your hands over your front. “What are your names?”

“Diana,” the girl was quick to call out, clasping her hands together with a bounce of her knees.

Chuckling, the woman extended a hand. “Lucia,” she said, shaking your hand gently. “She really does adore you, she’s always showing me what you wear when you post, she tries to make whatever coffee you share, the makeup you use…”

“Mom,” Diana said from behind her teeth, her eyes flickering at you.

Lucia tipped her head backward with a click of her tongue. “You inspire her. You and your brother, you’re both positive influences, I hope you know that.” Now your stomach flipped. It came out of her so easily, the lie, the words she seemed to believe. “Would you mind if she took a photo with you?”

Swallowing hard, you shook your head and forced a smile on your face. “Not at all, sure, let’s do it,” you half laughed, taking an arm around Diana’s back, the girl trying to stretch hers around your shoulder.

You inspire her.

Positive influence.

Stuck on the things she said, Lucia, the mom of this young girl, Diana, only thirteen years old confirmed by the Instagram bio on her profile that popped up when she typed in her username for you. Sharing more with her, or rather, letting her talk to you, about her life, about school, about her friend drama, you did your best to give her advice you’ve heard from Ryujin and tapped the Follow button, positively making this little girl's day.

This thirteen year old who followed you, who was influenced by you and what you posted. Everything you’ve posted since you were her age flashed through your mind like a nightmare of a slideshow you were forced to watch, one you couldn’t stop. The amount of drunk stories you’ve posted, the language you used online, some of the outfits you’ve chosen to wear since that very young age because who cared, certainly not your mother or your father. Back at Nasara, the numerous times you posted videos of you and Ryujin dancing at the ATZ house before you swallowed each other's tongues on Instagram live. Many posts on your feed weren’t the greatest either. Grouped together with selfies and photo dumps were many questionable photos.

This girl had seen most of it, if not all of it.

“Keep being you,” Lucia said to you, laying a hand on your shoulder after her daughter squealed at her phone and tapped away. “Thank you.”

“Course.” Your voice was trapped in your throat. “Thank you. Enjoy the game.” With another smile she took her daughter in her arms and started to usher her away, the girl's nose lost in her phone. “Wait, Lucia,” you called out just as she turned around. Rushing to her side, Diana looking up at you with stars in her eyes, you asked, “Where are you sitting?”

“Oh, we’re up in the four hundreds,” she said. “All of these games are like sold out, it happened so fast.”

Glancing from Diana to Lucia, you said, “Go to section one-oh-eight.” Lucia’s brows furrowed, Diana's eyes shot open wide. “I’m gonna make a phone call, go there, tell them your names and that DK only eats yellow starburst before every game. They’ll put you in the first row.”

“Oh my god,” Lucia gasped, throwing her arms around your back.

“He does?” Diana’s face screwed up as she watched you two.

“Thank you, thank you,” Lucia whispered, her hug easing a few cracks within you from somewhere you ignored. “It’s been so hard, I fought to get these tickets, oh my god, thank you, Isla.”

When she pulled away she placed a hand to your cheek, then the two were off and you pulled out your phone to do as you promised. Giving a call to one of your brother's security members, the one who monitored from the stands behind home plate, you let him know of Lucia and Diana’s arrival, leaving the rest up to him. The two would have a perfect view of DK on the mound from those seats.

Before slipping your phone back into your pocket you glanced at your messages.

Unread.

Maybe even unopened.

Possibly deleted.

At least you weren’t blocked.

Down on the field the people were equally as lively as the crowds filling the stands. News cameras, photographers, reporters, tons of familiar yet never before seen people rushing about the green grass and the dirt trying to get a moment with any of the players. Music played throughout the stadium, remixes of pop songs old and new keeping the good vibes in check.

Weaving through men in suits and women in high heels, hoping to avoid any and all interaction with every single one of them, you finally reached the dugout and ducked into it, flying down the stairs.

“Moonie,” Woozi sang. Adjusting the buttons on his jersey, he held up a hand for you to slap.

“Hey,” you breathed, glancing around, finding his girlfriend with Joshua and Seungkwan. The three were talking, looking out onto the field at the massive amounts of people waiting for them. “Oh, good, thought I’d be the only girlfriend here.”

Woozi raised a brow, beginning to strap on his gear. “Half of our starting line is up on the other side of the field, with their wives,” he propped a leg up on the bench to fasten the gear around his shins. “Your boyfriend included.”

“Great,” you said, crossing your arms. Poking out your bottom lip you bobbed your head and looked out onto the field.

Woozi laughed within a breath, switching his legs around. “You not gonna go find him?”

“Nah,” you said way too fast.

When he had both feet on the ground he reached for an arm guard and faced you entirely. “Why not?”

“Because,” you shrugged. Your brother's laugh rang from the opposite end of the dugout, your ears perking up at the sound of the contagious song. “I’m gonna go find DK,” you mumbled.

“Moonie,” Woozi stopped you before you wandered too far. “Everything okay?”

A vague question that deserved a vague answer. Having known Woozi for years, one of your brother's closest friends, anything said to him would go straight back to DK, even if you asked him not to say anything. Jihoon was Big Brother 2.0 in a sense, and though you were grateful for the dual lookout over you, he was DK’s secret agent.

“I’m fine,” you said, apparently unconvincingly with how his brows shifted. “I promise.”

Strapping the rest of his gear on, he walked in front of you, a tight smile on his lips. “I’ve known you since you were sixteen,” he said with a nod of his head, “You can’t lie.” Folding your arms over your chest, you clenched your jaw and took a breath. “Least not to me, you should know that,” he laughed. Tilting his head, the wispy strands of his black hair dancing over his forehead, he pursed his lips before he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered, shaking your head once. Tightening your fingers on your biceps he didn’t let it go unnoticed. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

Giving you a once over, releasing a sigh, he nodded his acceptance. “Okay. You know if you need anything, I”m here. You don’t just have Seokmin to rely on, okay?”

You answered him with a quick nod and the smallest smile, leaving him to finish preparing for the game before he joined his curvy girlfriend and his friends admiring the field. Taking yourself through the dugout, arms still tight over your chest, you breeze past the bench a level higher and closer to the field where several players sat in their jerseys, so uniform, so clean. Heads of wavy hair, mostly short now that the season was just starting, sat in a line, kicked back on the finished wood with their hats in their laps. By September their hair would be flowing, unmanageable curls, the baseball flow.

At the end of the bench, sat up straight, his legs stretched out in front of him, was your favorite head of curls. Loose brown waves that’d grow tighter as the months passed now that he promised off his haircut. Behind him, down on your level, stood your brother grinning a mile wide as he spoke with a man in all black. To talk to your brother meant you’d have to place yourself directly behind Vernon and the soft smile he wore while he listened to his teammates talk.

“Isla!”

Tearing your eyes away from the boy a foot or so above where you walked, you shot a wide eyed look at your brother. So much for trying to go into this incognito. Glancing up at Vernon, he didn’t look at you, but his smile vanished.

“Hey, Deeks,” you spoke quietly, trying to keep your conversation between you and your brother.

“I didn’t think you’d come down here,” he said, waving goodbye to the man he previously spoke with.

“I’m not here with anybody, so…”

“Right,” DK sighed, then caught himself, throwing up his hands, “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You smiled and shrugged, shaking your head. “It’s okay,” you whispered, sneaking a glance to your right. He hadn’t moved.

“I’m telling you, put Ryujin on a flight.” Stepping closer, he laid a hand on your shoulder. “Or, I’ll have someone book it. I’m so glad you’re talking to her again.”

Your fingertips pressed into your biceps again. “She’s got… school,” you muttered.

DK curled his lip. “She’s got life to live,” he said, and you smiled. “I’ve heard you talk about her before. Get her on a plane, Jagi.” Adjusting the cap on his head, he returned the smile and squeezed your shoulder. Just as he was about to walk away, jog up the stairs, and leave you for work, you latched onto his hand and pulled him closer to you. From your hands to your eyes his wide gaze traveled. “You… okay.” His quick acceptance and attention made you laugh.

“What are your plans later?”

DK opened his mouth and closed it twice, looking all over you for the butt of the joke. “Me?” He shook his head. “Mine?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

He glanced over your shoulder toward Woozi and his friends. “Uh, we’re going to go down Festa Street, there’s a… place that does Throwback Thursdays, we wanted to check it out.”

“Can I come with you?”

Holding his breath, he waited a second for a rebuttal. “Of course,” he sighed, giving your hand a squeeze. “I know I shouldn’t, uh, question why, but… You really want to come hang out with me and my friends?”

The thought of doing anything else nauseated you.

“I do,” you said, and it deepened his smile. Like Woozi, that thing flashed in his eyes. He knew why you were asking. There was another question lingering closeby, a name hidden behind his teeth, one that forced you to mumble, “No.” He left it alone.

The name came bouncing down the dugout stairs anyhow, Hoshi and Minghao behind him with their wives on their hips, the girls dressed like they were worth millions of dollars.

“There she is,” Mingyu called out, his arms spread open. Throwing them around you your hand fell out of DK’s grip, your brother taking a step backward. Pressing kisses to your cheek, Mingyu rocked you side to side. “Knew you wouldn’t miss my first game.” Grabbing onto his arms, you tried to put some space between you, maneuvering your head around to say hi to the other four.

DK had his eyes glued to Mingyu, a polite smile on his lips barely reaching his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to you, somehow avoiding the way you begged him with your eyes to get you out of this.

You knew what he’d say, he could do so without actually saying it. You did this yourself. In the nicest, most DK way possible, he’d tell you that you did this yourself.

“What?” Mingyu sighed, pulling away from you, turning you by your shoulders to face him. His bright smile faded, and DK disappeared up the stairs. “What’s he mean tonight?”

Placing your hands over his, you said, “I’m gonna go out with him and his friends.”

“Tonight?” he asked, tone growing snarky.

“Yes.”

Throwing his eyes around him for a moment, he huffed a laugh and narrowed his gaze. “It’s the night of our first game, we’re celebrating, you don’t wanna come with me? Hoshi and Hao are ready to buy out Cheers.”

They’d fallen in love with that bar. Head over heels, all four of them. Other players would come and go each night, if you could remember, but Mingyu, Hoshi, Minghao… That became their spot. Over these last two weeks Cheers had started promoting their appearance, using their names to draw a crowd which packed the place more than it should be.

“I know,” you said, still aiming to speak above a whisper. “And, it sounds like so much fun, I always have fun there with you guys, but I haven’t seen DK in, like, two weeks.”

“He’s your brother, you can see him anytime you want,” he grumbled, brows falling over his eyes. Just as expected.

Pulling his hands off of you, you cradled them. “You steal me away,” you attempted a joke. He didn’t find it funny. “One night with DK. Please?”

A sigh fell from him as he tipped his chin back. “Better find you in my room when you come back.”

A booming voice sounded over the speakers, filling the entire stadium with cheers and shouts as the sportscaster announced the starting lineups for each team. DK had his name called first and chills rolled down your spine. Every person in the place with a viable voice made some sort of noise. You couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face.

That would never get old.

Mingyu squished your cheeks together and pulled you in for a kiss. “Are you behind home?”

“No,” you said, and he frowned. “I gave my tickets to a mom and a daughter I met on the way down here. They’re huge DK fans, and I think life hasn’t been nice to them recently. Think I’ll go to the suite with Daya and Halle.”

A grin broke onto his lips. “Perfect,” he whispered, kissing you once more before he let you go to follow the girls out of the dugout, onto the field, and up into the stands.

A drink sat on the table in front of you, the melted ice leaving a puddle in its wake as you took the straw between your lips. Seated in a booth against a wall, DK sat beside you, leaning over the glossed chestnut wood to talk to Woozi at the end of the table on your other side. His girlfriend Melody sat across from you, their hands intertwined on top of the table. Her long, sleek black hair fell down her back over her denim jacket with the number 22 patched onto the front pocket. A lot of the girls had niche clothes like this, their boy's numbers or their names stitched or plastered onto it somehow.

You stuck to the normal merch, cutting it with the help of one of your stylists back home, having her stitch the pieces together to create something that seemed original. The numbers of your brother or your boyfriend never made it onto the pieces, but you did own several DK jerseys, snatching up every version created since he played for the Cyclones.

Once upon a time you dreamed of wearing a boyfriend's number like the other girls. Ever since you were a teenager, seeing Jihyo wear Jun’s number and his name, small businesses creating and gifting her original pieces with their family name on it, commemorating Jun and his legacy, you wanted it too.

But, not in the WAG way.

Never in the WAG way.

Sitting here at the table, staring at the red 22 and their hands together, you weren’t really sure in what way you meant. Lifting your chin, meeting her dark eyes, you leaned forward onto your elbows and asked, “Melody, what do you do?” The conversation amongst the guys silenced. This girl was fairly new. Woozi dated here and there throughout your years of knowing him, but since your years at Nasara, Melody had been somewhat of a secret. DK told you in confidence one night on his living room couch, the two of you buried in big blankets watching movies, Woozi wanted to marry her.

Three years together, having only shown her face to the public in the last few months, they were in it for the long haul. This season will be a test, DK told you. Melody, a quieter personality, she wasn’t used to attention like this in the slightest. If they made it through the summer he was going to ask her to be his wife.

“I’m a casting director,” she said with a smile. Her porcelain skin complimented her darker features beautifully. She glanced at Woozi with a shy shrug. “Well, aspiring, I guess.”

He drug his thumb over the back of her hand and nodded. “And you’re doing a great job,” he said to her.

Looking back at you, blush evident on her cheeks, she said, “Right now I’m the assistant to a casting director of a… pretty big company,” she chose her words carefully, darting her eyes between you and DK who listened to her talk with a small smile. There were things she couldn’t reveal, you caught on quick, but your brother definitely knew the hidden facts. “We’re gearing up to start a project real soon, so this is like a vacation for me.”

Tilting your head, you studied her, sharing a look with the pretty girl where she told you exactly what you wanted to find out. Whipping your head around, wide eyed as you looked at your brother, he laughed and slapped a hand to your shoulder.

“Yes,” he laughed through his words. “Exactly what you’re thinking, yes.” Facing the couple, he said, “She doesn’t keep up with our mom so much right now-”

“As if you do,” you sneered, cutting him off.

DK shot you a look. “I do when my friends start to work for her.”

Woozi and Melody smiled at one another, letting you siblings bicker in peace.

“And the last time you called her? Was when?”

DK rolled his eyes. “Whatever, she can call me too, yanno.”

There was a subtle shift in energy, one you both felt and ignored, but acknowledged. The, the phone works both ways, argument.

You faced Melody who waited with patience. “That’s so cool,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do you love it? Your job?”

“I do,” she said. Jihoon looked over her with pride, a sort of proudness for his girlfriend, his successful, hardworking girlfriend who had a name for herself elsewhere instead of just being someone's girlfriend. Some baseball players girlfriend. “Took me years to get here. I’m still not where I want to be, but I’m willing to pay my dues. Any experience is good experience, and I want it all.”

DK glanced at you, one you didn’t return.

“How do you… How do you balance… this?” Gesturing toward their hands, you held DK in your peripheral praying to a god you weren’t sure you believed in that he would keep his mouth shut.

The couple shared something between them, their grip on one another tightening.

“Patience,” Melody said.

“Understanding,” Woozi smiled, making her smile.

“Communication,” Melody whispered.

Your cheeks warmed, their love radiated louder the longer they stared at each other.

“Some days it’s a lot of work,” Woozi said, looking at you, and you wondered if he could read your mind. “When you both want it, it’s worth it.”

“There’s definitely hard days, weeks even, but- Oh, trust,” she said, looking amongst you all, “Forgot to add that in there, too. That one’s huge. When he gets on the road and I’m at home stuck in my office, or if I’m on trips and he’s in the middle of the off season…”

The idea of your parents popped into your mind while she spoke. Your mother, home and glued to her books or her editor or her publishing company, your father, on the road, out and about with his team and other women. Scandals were endless, your father on the front page with a girl that wasn’t your mother on his hip each time he played a series in another part of the country. It wasn’t all his fault though, your mother’s editor spent a lot of time at your house, spending time with you and DK barely old enough to realize what was going on. He’d spend nights there, he’d cook for you, he’d take you and your brother in the pool if your mother was stuck behind one of her screens.

Now that your father was retired and your mothers career was set in legendary status, the two were inseparable, as if nothing had ever happened, leaving you and DK to pick up the brunt of the messes they’ve made. Every now and again the media caught you with questions regarding their past, of whether or not they were going to stay married, if they worked through their problems, if you and DK shared a father. It was all a mess, and as long as you live you’ll never forgive them for leaving you and DK to pick up the pieces. Neither of them addressed the questions, nor the way their children were harassed by the public regarding their relationship and their past.

It’s why you took up the surname Moon, just to fuck with them. Questions of why, something you’ll never entertain.

With Woozi and Melody at this table, talking to each other with such care, such understanding, it warmed your heart. It reminded you that real, genuine love existed.

You peeked over at a table not far from yours. Seungkwan and Joshua sat with a few bench players, but across from the blonde, leaning over the table with a smile on his face was Vernon. He made player of the game, the Lions social media blew his face up as soon as the game was over, and all throughout each inning they posted his highlights. The game had been crazy, like he’d been a part of the team all along, his chemistry mixing right in with everyone else's.

He deserved the praise, the attention, even though you knew he wouldn’t accept it, even if it looked like he was. Today had been enough to fuel someone's ego for life, set a standard for them for the years to come, but not Vernon. If it had been anyone else, like it had been in the past, you’d never hear the end of it, and come to think of it, you don’t.

His follower count grew in record time. The Lions fans welcomed him in with loving arms. Sure enough, maybe even by tomorrow, the stands would be full of jerseys with his name on it.

DK slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Go talk to him,” he whispered, and you shivered.

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed and looked down at the table. Grabbing your drink, you sucked it down faster, your brother watching.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

You nearly choked on the liquor going down your throat. “He could ignore me, and embarrass me in front of your friends.”

DK glanced at that table. “Kwan and Shua are your friends too, just so you know.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, sliding the glass over the table. “I’m gonna go to the bar, does anybody want anything?”

“We’re good,” Woozi said, exchanging glances with Melody. Your brother pressed his lips together as you stood up, smoothing your hands over your jeans.

“Anything?” you asked, tone short.

He smiled. “No thanks,” he said with a head shake. “Come back, okay?”

Stepping away, you nodded at him without verbally expressing anything. Seungkwan looked up as you passed by their table. He glanced at DK and slid out of his seat, hurrying over for your brother, jumping into the spot you left vacant.

Pulling your phone from your pocket to distract yourself as you weaved through the people crowding the tight space, a groan leaked from your lips without you even knowing. Your screen was lit up with several notifications, none of which you wanted.

[thirteen<3]: I miss you already

[thirteen<3]: Daya and Hoshi keep buying rounds of tequila shots, do I keep going or are you coming here?

[thirteen<3]: Damn I don’t get to see you and you won’t answer me either

[thirteen<3]: what did I do to deserve this???

[thirteen<3]: Kidding btw, I just miss you.

There were several stories posted from the game today, Vernon’s name in nearly every headline taunting you. Scrolling through a couple as you hopped onto a barstool, you screenshotted the ones that threatened to make you smile. Ones you wanted to save. Ones you wanted to send to him even though he’d probably already seen them.

[thirteen<3]: You read my messages, I know your there

Taking a deep breath, you ordered a cocktail from the woman behind the bar and typed away.

[you:] I’m here. Are you having fun?

[thirteen<3]: Would be if you were here

[thirteen<3]: Daya keeps requesting awful songs

[you]: Where’s Hoshi?

Thanking the woman as she placed the glass in front of you with a smile, you brought the straw to your lips and let the sweetness coat your tongue.

[thirteen<3]: He’s here somewhere, i dont know

[thirteen<3]: He doesnt like to dance

[you]: Who are you dancing with

[thirteen<3]: Daya!!

You pushed a laugh through your nose, drinking from your straw even faster. Bubbles appeared and disappeared several times, and then a photo popped up. In the middle of a crowded dance floor, the one in Cheers, Mingyu held the phone up over his head giving you a near birds eye view of just how close he and Daya were on the dance floor together. She smiled up at the camera, her eyes closed, her white teeth shining. With both hands she flipped the bird while Mingyu pulled his infamous lip curl, one eye closed with a peace sign.

Unsure whether or not she was stupid, or just didn’t care what she was doing, you gave the photo a heart, then locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket.

“Another?” the woman asked, appearing in front of you with her cute customer service smile. Nodding, you pushed your glass closer to her.

“Please,” you mumbled.

He could dance with Daya, that was fine. They could unknowingly flirt with one another, sure. If Daya was doing what you thought she was doing, something would happen tonight, while you weren’t there.

It all clicked at once.

“You Isla?” a man asked from behind you, placing himself at your side. Giving him a look, tanned skin and a Lions hat, you nodded. “I thought so, you’re DK’s sister, right?”

“It is her?” Another voice made itself known to your left, wedging between the barstools to lean against the bar. Both men reeked of booze, their words stumbling together as they spoke. “Shit, I didn’t think we’d ever find you.”

“You were looking for me?” you questioned, thanking the bartender with a smile as she brought you another drink. Taking it from the bar quickly you placed your hand over the top and the straw between your fingers.

The man to your right laughed. “Not looking, but like, we thought we wouldn’t run into you, at least alone.”

You lowered your brows, willing away your own intoxication. “Alone?”

“Without Mingyu,” the man on your left blurted out.

Looking between the two of them, the way they learned on the bar, the way they stared at you, you made a face. “My brother is here, so is half of his team, I’m not alone.”

The one in the hat glanced around you obnoxiously with a smirk. “You look pretty alone to me.”

“What do you want?” You grit your teeth, and he bit his lip.

“Just wanna talk to you,” he said, sharing a look with his friend whose laugh chilled your spine. “Can we buy you a drink? Not much you don’t like, want us to surprise you?”

Usually, in situations like this one, you could handle yourself, but the vibe these two gave off, it was one you did not like. You brought your straw to your lips and shook your head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

The one in the hat groaned, tapping your arm with his elbow. He was clearly the leader of this operation. “Come on, just one, we want to. We’re big fans, we don’t want anything weird, I promise.”

“Promise,” his friend to your left reiterated, attempting a reassuring nod of his head. “We just wanna show our appreciation.”

You raised a brow. “For?” He gestured to you, all of you, head to toe, then added the rest of the team quickly. “Okay,” you said, sighing harshly. “One drink.”

One led to five fast.

Before you knew it you were laughing with them, knocking back shots other guys bought for you. You acquired a following, shadows hanging around you looking for your attention. The one in the hat, the first one to approach you, he got comfortable, feeling some sort of seniority for finding you first. His arm ended up around you at some point as guy after guy came up to you shamelessly flirting, saying things you couldn’t quite comprehend, but knew you wouldn’t like if you were sober.

“You want me to tell ‘em all to leave?” the man in the hat whispered in your ear, his arm around you while another guy stood in front of you. Blinking, everything dizzy, you looked up at him, eyebrows squeezing together in the center of your forehead.

“And, what?” you asked, squinting. “Leave me here with who, you?”

A laugh pushed through his lips, his gaze scattering elsewhere. “I mean, they’re not bothering you?”

Taking your time, you looked over every single one of them, their heads tipped up, nonsense spewing from their lips. One big competition of who could be the loudest, the most obnoxious. Not one compared to a single guy on your brother's baseball team, they were all trashy Haos tourists.

You looked up at Hat Man. “I’d definitely prefer it if you were all women.”

“Oh shit,” his eyes lit up, “You’re into that?”

You finished the drink in your hand and placed it on the bar. “It’s not a kink.”

“It is for me,” he smirked and you cringed.

“Leave,” you almost shouted, trying to stand up. His arm around you kept you on the stool.

“No, wait, wait,” his laugh made your skin crawl. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean it’s cool if you’re, you know, bi, or whatever, right? That’s what you are?” You tried to stand again, but he moved in front of you, your knees pressing to his thighs. “It’s okay, I’m sure there’s a girl in here somewhere, want me to look?”

Tapping his chest with a finger in a weak attempt to move him, you looked up at him in utter disgust. “She’d be more likely to agree to me, with me. And we’d leave you, because you are not it.”

His face fell, an anger replacing anything else he was feeling. “What the fuck?” he muttered, his grip tightening on your shoulders. “This whole time I thought you were feeling this,” he said. You shook your head. “You fucking bitch,” he snickered, giving you a slight shake. Fear sparked within you, your eyes going wide. “That’s what you are, you know that right? I’m over here acting all nice, but you really are what they say you are. A fucking bitch.”

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

The voice, one full of rage that made it so deep, it brought tears to your eyes.

The man in the hat laughed aloud, pulled back, turned around and withheld his gasp, but the way his eyes widened expressed his shock. His face, patient, completely straight, stared back at him, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Tearing his eyes off the man, he looked at you and the tears slipped down your cheeks.

“She belong to you?” the man asked, venom in his voice, trying to regain any sort of traction, any sort of fight. “You know what she’s been over here doing?”

Vernon ignored him. Keeping his eyes on you he wrapped an arm around your back and helped you off the stool, catching you as you stumbled into his hold. Nerves infected your veins, this close to him, looking up at him, feeling him, touching him, smelling him, all of it. He was the same as he’s ever been, as comforting as he’s been since the first day you met him. And he held you the same, muscle memory.

“Let’s go,” he said to you, pushing the guy out of the way, reaching up to knock the Lions hat off of his head before he pushed by anyone else.

“She’s a slut, new kid!” he shouted after the two of you. “Nothing but a bitch!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Vernon muttered, guiding you through the bar, through the crowds to the door. Pushing it open to more crowds, new crowds to gawk at you, he walked you over to a black car and placed you by the passenger door. Pulling it open, he moved you inside with a light tap to your back. Flashes lit up from the tables and people by the door to the bar behind you, flashes he sighed at. You turned to look, but his hand on his shoulder aided in gently putting you in the car. “Don’t,” he whispered, “Leave them alone.”

He pushed the door shut once you were seated, the car brand new, smelling fresh and like leather. It was way smaller than anything your brother owned, but it was clean, and definitely expensive. Laying your head back on the headrest, your world spun, forcing you to take deep breaths into your stomach. Wiping your eyes, your cheeks, you looked out the windows for Vernon. On the phone he wandered around the front of the car, glancing at you occasionally, his mouth moving a mile a minute.

Your heart sunk into your gut. He looked good. Different, but good. Instead of a t-shirt he wore a black button down, half of it tucked into his black jeans that hugged his thighs. A leather belt strapped around his waist complimented the same chain that hung around his neck, one you remembered once brushed over your nose. That night in the locker room, the only night you ever shared with him. It was enough to ruin you entirely, nothing would ever be as satisfying, as fulfilling.

He got into the driver's seat, his phone dropping into his lap with the release of a breath. Looking at you once, he pulled his door shut and laid his head backward. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Yeah,” you whispered, half conscious of what was coming out of your mouth. Pulling your feet up on the seats, you wrapped your arms around your knees and focused forward through the tinted windshield. “Sorry.”

Silence surrounded you. A sound that once went unnoticed between you, something that didn’t need to be addressed, something you both understood. It held a different semblance now, full of questions unanswered, feelings unknown.

You didn’t want to, but you cried. Since you saw his face, you couldn’t stop.

“Isla, you’re okay,” he said, frozen where he sat. “Those guys were assholes, you know that. When have you ever let a guy get to you like this?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Sucking in a breath, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He turned his head, a look you couldn’t reciprocate.

“Why?”

“You always have to take care of me,” you gasped, burying your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You wondered if he knew half of your apologies were aimed at September. And, December. And, two weeks ago.

He took a breath. “I wasn’t gonna leave you with those assholes.”

“But, you hate me,” you whispered, and he moved himself around entirely, facing you where he sat.

“When did I ever say that?” Taking your hands away, you found him looking at you like you had grown a second head. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” you said. “It was… implied.”

Vernon shut his eyes for a few seconds. “Isla, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t talk to me,” you whispered. “You don’t want to talk to me, you don’t want anything to do with me.” Opening his eyes, the look on his face hurt your heart. “You’re all I can think about, you’re all I’ve been able to think about, for a really, really long time.”

Taking his lip between his teeth, he averted his eyes elsewhere and gathered his thoughts. “I did not want to have this conversation like this, you’re drunk.”

Tears fell from your eyes. “I’m always drunk. Why?”

His eyes softened as they met yours. “Is that rhetorical?” Laying your head down on your knees, you shook your head, your lips trembling. “What were you trying to forget about tonight?” The answer popped in your head immediately, but you didn’t want to say it, not to him. You forgot he was able to read your mind. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Mingyu,” you whispered on command. The self awareness he had to not make a face continued to impress you. “The thought of you not wanting me.”

He wrapped a hand around the steering wheel and stared at it. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Isla,” he said under his breath. “I’ll always want you.” A breath shot through you. He turned his chin toward you. “I love you, and unfortunately I think no matter what you do, I always will.” Twisting in your seat you watched as he moved himself backward, like he was expecting you to reach for him. “As soon as I heard you were with your brother I thought you were finally gonna have some peace, but these kinds of people keep finding you. They know what to use against you to get what they want, and it kills me ‘cause I know you’re smarter than this.”

“If I am then why does it keep happening?”

A small smile hit his lips for a millisecond. “A lot of things,” he mumbled. “We grew up differently, I could start there.”

Your stomach took a tumble. “Dont,” you whispered, and he bobbed his head.

“Exactly, see, you already know it,” he said. “You got to a point when we were at Nasara, where you were so sick of it, you knew what you had to do. At least, that’s what I thought had happened when you left and Aurora told me you were with DK. Even those first few weeks when you didn’t answer me, I just kept thinking, this is it, he’s gonna help her, get her help. I didn’t need a response, I know you, Iya,” the slip of the nickname triggered the tears, “You would answer me when you were ready, and I really didn’t know where you were, so if you were somewhere,” he tilted his head at the same time like he couldn’t bring himself to say the word rehab, “I figured you’d answer me when it was over, but…”

New Years happened. Photos of you and Mingyu locking lips hit the internet, and no, you weren’t getting help, you latched yourself onto the very opposite.

Vernon knew it too with the way he looked at you now.

“V,” you whispered, and the softest smile graced his lips.

“What were you trying to forget?”

A shaky breath ripped through your lungs, the tears staining your cheeks coming to a standstill. Shaking your head, nibbling your lips, you whispered, “You.”

“Why?” he asked, voice pure, the question genuine, ripped from his brain and thrown into your face. Not a thought formed, the best you could do was plead with him with your eyes. “Isla, I thought there was something between us.”

“There was,” you said. “There is.”

He tried his best to not scoff in your face, but it happened anyway. “Then why ignore me? Why push me away? I fell in love with you, and you vanished.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered. Jaw ajar, midthought, Vernon blinked a few times and stared at you. Snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenched as he looked away. “I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again.”

He almost broke his neck with how fast he looked at you. “Isla, you could’ve answered the phone and found out.”

“I know,” you nearly shouted, screwing your face up. “I was scared, I was trying to ignore everything, DK was on me, he did want me to go somewhere but I wouldn’t, and I tried therapy, and I tried outpatient shit, but it sucked, and then Mingyu came back ‘cause he knew I was around, and it’s all a mess from there. The shit from Nasara stuck with me, I thought it wouldn’t fuck me up that bad, but it’s like… a problem.”

Your heart lodged into your throat. He had reached over and wrapped a hand around your wrist.

“Okay,” he breathed, encouraging you to breathe with him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me, I told you, Isla, I know you.” You were both paralyzed in place. “It’s okay to need help, it’s okay to admit that you need help. And, because I know you, I know that it’s gonna make you want to run away somewhere else, but you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he said, giving your wrist a gentle shake. “I wanna record you saying that so tomorrow you can’t deny it.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow?”

He smiled. “I have wanted to talk to you every single day,” he let go of your wrist and settled back into his side of the car. “But, you have a… boyfriend. I don’t think he likes me, by the way.”

Shying away, you mumbled, “I told him we fucked.”

Not an infliction on his face. “Hm,” he hummed, glancing out the windshield, “Is that what we did?” When he looked back at you and your sappy eyes, you shook your head. “Explains why he looks at me the way he does.”

“He doesn’t like DK either,” you said, and Vernon went stoic. “He won’t talk to him, DK tries, but Mingyu avoids him.”

“Seems about right,” Vernon muttered. Questioning him with a brow, he said, “Why would a guy who’s trying to manipulate you into what he wants associate himself with people who want what's best for you?”

Groaning, burying your face back in your hands, you said, “You sound like Ryujin.”

Vernon smiled. “I know.”

You never looked at him faster. “What?”

“She’s my friend too, Iya,” he breathed through a laugh. “I don’t hear details, don’t worry, but I hear enough to know that your little relationship thing is not good for you.”

“Why would she tell you anything!?”

He shrugged, fingers tapping the steering wheel. Shifting in his seat, looking away from you, he said, “She wants us together.”

A chill breezed over your skin. Brushing your hands over the bumps you sat backward and lowered your chin, waiting for him to meet your eyes. When he did, you whispered, “I do, too.”

Pulling into a lazy smile, his lips parted, and he whispered, “Me too.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

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