#NBA Best played and Moments

[nanohuge]

NBA BEST PLAYS MOMENTS || BEST NBA PLAYER MOMENTS || NBA UNFORGETABLE MOMENTS

The #nationalbasketballassociation (#NBA ) is a professional #basketball #league in North America. The #league is composed of 30 teams (29 in the #UnitedStates and 1 in #Canada ) and is one of the major professional #sports leagues in the United States and Canada. It is the premier men's professional basketball league in the world. The NBA's regular season runs from October to April, with each team playing 82 games. The league's playoff #tournament extends into June. As of 2020, NBA players are the world's best #paidathletes by average annual salary per player. WATCH HERE THE HIGHEST PAID ATHLETES https://youtube.com/shorts/iDbqu60qZSs?feature=share . The NBA is the third wealthiest professional sport league after the #nationalfootball league (NFL) and #majorleaguebaseball (MLB) by revenue, and among the top four in the world.

The #bostonceltics and the Los Angeles #Lakers are tied with the most NBA championships at 17 each. The #goldenstatewarriors are the defending league champions, as they defeated the Boston Celtics 4–2 in the 2022 NBA Finals, to mark the end of the 2021–22 season.

MORE INFO|| https://www.nba.com

WATCH MORE VIDEOS|| @nanohuge

https://youtu.be/uGLR1kD7SBU

https://youtu.be/XIAoICrWnEU

https://youtu.be/DsT72lXyBvM

https://youtu.be/prCHudY2o94

HASHTAG||

#nanohuge #nbalover #nbafans #nbasports #nbaleague #nbahighlights #nbamoments

SOCIAL MEDIA|| https://linktr.ee/nanohuge

[basketbeatusa]

The Most Amazing Basketball Save in History!

In this video, we showcase one of the most incredible defensive plays in basketball history. Witness an unforgettable moment that highlights the skill, precision, and determination of top athletes. This is a must-see for all basketball fans and sports enthusiasts. Watch till the end to experience the intensity and brilliance of this epic save!

[slamrink]

ant said I can play that game too 😭😭

starters <3 (idk where og is..)

bonus for touches…this is what it’s all about

[azzibuckets]

want you for myself [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: some cute fluff where paige gets jealous of all the attention her brother is getting from you

a/n: i kinda rushed this so😭 it didn’t turn out the way i wanted

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

Normally, Paige loved how good you were with Drew. How whenever he started talking about school or basketball, you always raptly paid attention, asking questions and making jokes. She loved how gentle you were with him, how when he was being too loud you always managed to bring his energy down to a more appropriate level without yelling at him.

But right now, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how focused you were on Drew when you were supposed to be focused on her.

“And Dad bought me three new skins for my birthday! Here, let me show you all of them.” Drew scrambled to find his iPad, and for what seemed like the millionth time, Paige leaned into you, tugging your shirt sleeve at the elbow.

“Can we go now?” she whined. “You said we would watch the wolves game together.”

“Just give me a few more minutes,” you whispered back, not even bothering to look at her. “Let me see Drew’s skins.”

Paige loudly huffed. She was bored out of her mind. “The game’s starting in five minutes, you know,” she urged, widening her eyes to show her eagerness.

“I know, you just said that two minutes ago. You go on up first, I’ll be there in a few,” you said dismissively before enthusiastically throwing yourself into yet another conversation with Drew about Fortnite.

Grumbling under her breath, Paige went up the stairs, making sure to aggressively stomp to get her impatience across. When she reached the top, she turned around, but you didn’t seem to have noticed her attitude at all, eyes totally glued to Drew’s screen.

The Timberwolves vs Mavericks game started, but Paige couldn’t enjoy it without you. Her annoyance grew as she heard you and her little brother’s raucous laughs echoing from the basement. She clenched her jaw, wondering how you were more interested childish things like Fortnite (as if she hadn’t played that game for hours every night the past month) than a basketball game with your very sexy girlfriend.

Paige was able to ignore her frustrations momentarily and get lost in the game, but when Anthony Edwards scored a buzzer-beater three to end the first quarter and she jumped up and down, instinctively going to grab you out of excitement, she realized again that you still hadn’t come up. With a groan, she headed back downstairs.

This time, you and Drew were playing on the Nintendo, both of you fully zoned in on building your Minecraft world. “Hey.” You felt a flick on your head and turned around to see a grumpy Paige. “You just missed Ant’s best moment of the season,” she declared, hoping you’d feel disappointed at having missed the highlight.

But you only said, “Oh, damn,” before turning back to the screen.

Paige sighed and decided to try again. “He shot from full court to put the wolves up at the end of first,” she prodded, hoping you’d get excited. But you merely nodded before turning to Drew and asking if he wanted to switch to creative mode.

Paige switched tactics. “Drew,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I think your screen time is up.”

Drew wrinkled his eyebrow, not tearing his gaze from the TV. “I don’t have a screen time.”

Paige stepped in front of the TV, forcing both of you to finally look at her. “Do either of you want ice cream?” she tried, smiling hopefully. “I’ll drive us to Baskin Robbin’s.”

“I’m still pretty full from lunch,” you said, “but thanks babe.”

“Yeah, me too,” Drew agreed. “Can you move now?”

Paige begrudgingly moved aside, jaw tightened as she grinded her teeth. Returning back upstairs, she watched the rest of the NBA game in a brooding silence. She felt slightly immature for being jealous of the attention her brother was receiving from you, but she’d had a long day and all she wanted was to be in your arms, watching her favorite team play.

During dinner, Paige stayed quiet as you and Drew continued your conversation about whatever new game you’d moved onto playing. You were totally oblivious to her irritation of being neglected, thinking she was just sleepy. Paige perked up after dinner, thinking Drew would fall into a food coma and escape to his room, but instead he insisted on showing you two the clothes he’d bought recently.

“I saved the best for last,” Drew announced after twenty minutes of giving you two a detailed and intricate fashion show. He ran to the bathroom, then quickly reappeared in a neat black tuxedo, with a navy pin stripe tie finished with shiny leather oxfords.

“Oh my god!” you squealed, bending down to squeeze his cheeks. “You look so adorable.”

Drew blushed at the attention as you continued to shower him with praises. Paige’s mouth dropped as she glared at the two of you. “Are you serious?” she complained. “You never react like this when I show you my shopping hauls.”

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend. “Maybe that’s because you buy the same grey sweatpants each time.” Drew snickered and gave you a fist bump as Paige fought back a smile, trying to mask it under feigned annoyance.

“You two are unbelievable,” she declared. “I regret letting you guys meet.”

“You’re just mad your girlfriend likes me more than she likes you,” Drew shot back, earning another high five and round of giggles between the two of you.

Paige made a show of getting up from her seat. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone since you guys hate me so bad,” she said dramatically.

It was almost 1 AM when you silently crept up to Paige’s childhood bedroom. You and Drew had stayed up gaming for hours, long after Paige had gone up to finish some homework and study. You expected the blonde to already be fast asleep, but when you opened the door, she was using her phone in bed.

“P?” You whispered, startling her.

“Dude.” Paige fixed you with an unforgiving look after recovering from her shock. “It’s literally one. What were you guys doing that took so long?”

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, letting the door quietly shut behind you. “We were really getting into it.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Paige said, rolling her eyes. She plugged a charger into her phone and set it on the bedside table, clearly ready to go to sleep. You shrugged and headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. But when you climbed into bed and leaned over to give the blonde a kiss, she dodged it. Ignoring your confused stare, she rolled over, turning her back on you.

“Woah.” You tapped her shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

“What’s up with me?” Paige suddenly shot up straight in bed. “You spent the entire day ignoring me. I’m starting to think you’re only dating me to become friends with my little brother,” she complained.

A small smile slowly worked its way onto your face as realization dawned on you. Paige hadn’t been tired all day. “Aw, Paige,” you teased. “Are you jealous of your 10 year old brother right now?”

Realizing how ridiculous the situation sounded, Paige avoided eye contact with you, instead concentrating on pulling the comforter around her. “No,” she said unconvincingly, her voice tiny.

“I know you’re lying, baby,” you chuckled. You reached over to cup the blonde’s face in your hands, giving her an adoring look. “You’re so cute.”

“Stop it,” Paige blushed, swatting you away. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Hey, I never see your brother!” you defended. “You can’t get mad that I’m excited to see him.”

“I know,” Paige whined. “But you don’t have to totally ignore me.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt as you thought back to how you’d completely forgotten about the Timberwolves game that Paige had been so excited to watch with you. Granted, she was excited about every wolves game, but still. “Paige Madison Bueckers,” you intonated slowly, clasping your hands together. “I am immensely sorry for the pain I have caused you today.” You planted a big and sloppy kiss smack in the middle of her forehead, causing her to groan and wipe away the slobber. “You are the light of my life,” you said solemnly. “The apple of my eye. My favorite person on earth.”

Paige pursed her mouth, trying to prevent the corners of her lips from curving upwards. “And?”

“Never again will I ignore you or miss a wolves game.” You hesitated. “Wait, can I take back that last part? You watch so many of their games it’s hard to keep up-”

Paige’s eyes narrowed and you decided to cut yourself off before you dug a deeper hole. “Nevermind!” you said brightly. “I will never again forget to watch a wolves game with my beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, incredible girlfriend.”

The blonde beamed up at you. “That’s more like it.”

You toyed at the collar of her shirt, letting your fingers brush gently across the soft skin on her neck. Looking up at her through your lashes, you said as seductively as you could, “Now can I kiss you?”

“Fuck yeah,” she muttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you in.

[winwintea]

stop posting about BALLER - zhong chenle

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

GENRES ↬ pure crack idk... fluff, romance, some angst if you look in between the lines, chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ inspired by a fic i read on ao3, a tiktok i watched where op got mad at their boyfriend for having headphones in while making out, plus my post here. and also chenle's recent fanboying activity in la. ignore the title its a placeholder for now, in honor of my dear friend @syatchy london stop writing for chenle challenge

WORD COUNT ↬ 1.3K

Everyone had their hobbies. You knew your boyfriend liked basketball, you just didn’t realize he liked it that much. 

Making it your life’s goal to win over the heart of Zhong Chenle, you spent countless hours studying quizlet flashcards, watching a couple of basketball games, even trying to learn the sport as well. Although you were surprised when it didn’t take more than a few dates for you to begin dating. 

Your best friend Ning Yizhuo, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

“I just think he’s a big red flag. Who the hell puts “I’m always ballin’” as their twitter bio?” She’s sprawled across your bed, mindlessly stalking your boyfriend’s social media accounts. “What if your man loves another man more than he loves you?” 

You’re paying her no mind, working on a basketball basics test on your laptop. Eight teams from each of the league's two conferences qualify for the playoffs. The top two teams play each other in the conference finals, to determine the Conference Champions from each side. The winners then play in the NBA Finals. 

Yizhuo suddenly stands up, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you ignoring me?” You’re about to answer your next question, until she starts waving her hands in your face.

“What the hell, Yizhuo?” You turn around annoyed. “I was locked in!”

“Studying for basketball is crazy… Just warning you Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when your boyfriend calls you Stephen Curry’s name instead of your own.” 

You punch her in the shoulder, “I swear to god-” 

But Yizhuo seemed unfazed by your attacks, continuing on, “I’m just saying from experience hon. Sports guys like him will never love you as much as he loves his balls.”

“Um.. that’s what she said.”

—

Despite Yizhuo’s warnings and what she seemed so sure of, you and Chenle clicked in a way that none of your exes ever did. If he invited you to the gym, you’d show up with a yoga mat, pretending to do Pilates while sneaking glances at him bench pressing. If Chenle said he was hungry, you’d learn how do use a frying pan, determined to whip up something edible. And if he asked you to come over, you’d throw on your best outfit, adding an extra touch of appeal, and never forget to bring a treat for Daegal.

Spending time with Chenle was easy. It seemed almost too easy, that you began to slightly question why everything seemed so perfect. 

If there were any red flags like Yizhuo pointed out, it was probably too small to see in the mix of fun times you spent together.

Times spent together usually and often ended with the two of you cuddling or making out on his couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Chenle was a really good kisser. Plus, he was good at cuddling. You had no doubts in that moment you laid eyes on him, but everything was certainly up to expectations. He knew exactly how to hold you in his arms and make you feel like you were on top of the whole damn world. 

As you leaned in closer for another this time, your hands running through his hair, you took notice of his features. His incredibly sharp jawline (mewing tutorial when?), the flushed pink splashed across his collarbones up to his cheeks, and now that he grew out his hair longer, it was much harder to see the shape of his ears-

Hold on.

You blink and then squint your eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping you’re just imagining things.

“Chenle. Are those Airpods?”

Chenle immediately pushes you off of him and then freezes.

You see every single emotion flash through Chenle’s eyes, but he’s still speechless. You’d honestly thought you’d been through the entire spectrum of men in your life, from guys who had memes tattooed on their chest to guys who brought their mother to dates to guys with an extremely interesting savior complex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Relax. You still had your dignity to protect. “What… are you listening to?” Maybe he was into listening to music while making out, maybe some relaxing sounds people used to cope with traumatic intimate experiences??? You were thinking of anything at this point, trying to brace yourself for the absolute worse. 

“Highlights” Chenle begins, looking at you nervously, “For uh, for the Warriors game.” Before you can even process the info, Chenle rambles on, “We’re so so close to a wild card spot and I wanted to turn the game on earlier, but you were talking about your project you were working on and I really wanted to listen, and right now it’s not like we’re talking about anything important, so I figured it might be alright if I-“

what the fuck… yeah shut the hell up right now please, you think as he keeps rambling, and turn around to grab a pillow behind to smack this big headed shit right in the head. 

“Ow-“ Chenle throws his hands up in defense, trying to block the pillow that comes crashing down. “What? Hey!”

“Zhong Chenle. I’m going to chop your fucking dick off.”

—

In the end, Chenle’s dick remains intact. 

After letting himself get beaten up by a pillow, he manages to get you to calm down, taking the airpods out, which makes you a little bit happier than you were before. 

Chenle leaves you on the couch to take a shower, allowing you to ponder for a bit. Were you being too restricting this way? Chenle seemed to still care about you, and didn’t want to take away time from your own interests as well. I mean… maybe you needed to get into basketball as well to fully understand. 

As you lounge on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest, you hear the faint sound of the shower turning off. Before you know it, Chenle slips onto the couch beside you, his presence warm and comforting. In one smooth motion, he curls himself around you, arms gently wrapping around your waist as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of the shampoo you gifted him lingers in the air, blending with the soft warmth of his skin. 

Your mind's racing, caught between conflicting emotions. And damn, Chenle smells incredible, which really isn’t helping right now.

A minute of silence passes before he finally speaks, his voice soft but serious. “Look, I get if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to push any boundaries. If that was too much, I won’t do it again. And if this is something that’s going to be a dealbreaker for us, I get it—we can end things here.”

“No, wait—no,” you cut in, setting your phone aside to face him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Okay, it was weird. You’ll give him that. Maybe his “casual” obsession with basketball wasn’t as casual as you thought. And sure, that might be a red flag for some.

But Yizhuo’s wrong. Maybe Chenle’s got a deeper connection with his basketballs than you or whoever she’s comparing him to, but at least he’s never moaned or called you Stephen Curry in the heat of the moment.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get used to this. Besides, he already promised he wouldn’t do it again.

Your thoughts bounce back and forth, but after a while, you break the silence with a quiet, “Did you win?”

His head lifts from your shoulder instantly, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Yeah, we did! Secured our spot in the conference finals.”

Conference finals. Oh, right. You recognize that term—studied it on Quizlet like the good, supportive partner you are.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. Chenle might be a bit obsessed with the sport, but he was supportive of your own goals and actually a really nice boyfriend. 

“Tell me about it.”

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

[nebuladreamerrr]

Kylian Mbappé imagine where he’s so nervous to meet your family. Especially nervous for your parents. Your family isn’t really a football family they’re more into basketball. They’re not that impressed by him.

Oooo and maybe when you get to meet his family,

And his mom tells him to the side that she has a real good feeling about you

I hope you enjoy it 💗💗

Lakers fan | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: Despite being a confident man, Kylian can't help but feel insecure and nervous about meeting your family. But will everything turn out okay?

Warnings: English is not my first language

Kylian couldn't stop mentally going over all the plans he had been mapping out for months. When you mentioned that you wanted to spend your vacation in the United States so that your family could finally meet him, his mind started working overtime. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he needed to remember: not to mix up French with English, not to forget the gifts for your family (soccer jerseys for your younger brothers, flowers for your mother, and a bottle of wine for your father), and to make sure not to address your father too informally. All of this seemed like a simple plan, but the fact that everything was in English made Kylian very nervous.

From the moment you met him, you didn't hesitate to tell him that his English was very good and that he should be proud of mastering a language that wasn't his mother tongue. Still, a few lessons with you were enough to turn him into a professional in the language.

But this wasn't what made the French footballer nervous. It seemed unbelievable that before a match against the best players in the world, he had the strength and courage not to doubt his abilities. There's no denying that the young Frenchman is one of the best players in the world, but even the biggest stars tend to get nervous and review the matches of the stars they are going to face. However, Kylian wasn't like that. He could play in a big stadium with millions of fans chanting his name, and in his mind, it was as if he were playing a match with his childhood friends.

Without a doubt, that's what made you fall in love with Kylian: that ability to make even the most exclusive and extravagant events seem like a simple gathering in the park after school. Kylian always showed you that side of himself whenever he could, whether it was when you entered a clothing store and he mentioned how he used to have a shirt with the same pattern when he was little, when you ate at different restaurants and he always compared them to the ones in his hometown (which obviously always won), or even when he had a very important meeting with his representatives and afterward told you, "Phew, I almost fell asleep. For a moment, I was transported back to when my school principal gave talks that were supposed to last ten minutes and ended up lasting 100 hours."

But having to navigate in another language and meet your parents and entire family made him extremely nervous. Especially since he discovered that they weren't big soccer fans; in fact, they rarely watched soccer matches. Instead, it was rare for the TV not to be showing an NBA game. Kylian was a basketball fan too, but with so many matches, training sessions, and competitions, he couldn't watch all the basketball games he wanted or keep up with the big stars and promising future talents.

Kylian wasn't just worried about his own nerves; he was also focused on making sure you felt comfortable and happy. Although the United States was your home country, you hadn't been back in a long time. Since moving to Paris and more recently to Spain, your sense of home had spread across these three places. He knew you'd be thrilled to reunite with your family and make plans with all your friends, but he also understood it would be strange to return to a home that had changed since you last saw it. That's why Kylian planned every detail of the trip to the United States meticulously.

Kylian worked hard to learn a few phrases in English that might impress your parents and practiced how to behave in social situations that might be different from those in France, like not greeting your parents with the typical three kisses. He knew this visit was important to you, and he was determined to do everything possible to make it a success.

Additionally, Kylian had organized a special surprise for you. He had reserved a dinner at an elegant restaurant atop a skyscraper, with stunning views of the city. This was the perfect place for you to reconnect with all your childhood friends—those you had shared moments with since kindergarten, those you had spent so much time training with through cheerleading routines, and, most importantly, those you had shared countless laughs with. He wanted your family to see how much you meant to him and how much he valued every moment with you. He also thought it was a great opportunity for them to understand that he didn't want you to isolate yourself from your friends.

Furthermore, he had prepared a speech with the help of your best friend to express his feelings and gratitude for welcoming him into your home. This would demonstrate his commitment and dedication to both you and your family, making it clear that he had made a genuine effort to integrate into your life and roots.

On the day of departure, while waiting at the airport, Kylian took your hand and looked at you with a calm smile. "Everything will be fine," he confidently assured you. "We've planned everything, and most importantly, we're in this together." His words gave you the reassurance you needed. Together, you boarded the plane towards a new adventure, confident that whatever happened, you would face it with love and mutual support.

The arrival in the United States was emotional. Your best friends welcomed you with hugs and tears of joy, and Kylian introduced himself with the kindness and respect that always characterized him. The first few hours flew by with laughter, memories, and the joy of being together. However, you quickly headed to the hotel you had reserved for your stay to recharge for that special evening.

You had slight suspicions when Kylian warned you to dress elegantly that night because you were going to dinner at a city venue. You thought he might have something up his sleeve, but you quickly dismissed the idea because these spontaneous dates were normal in your relationship. Often, these getaways were the best way to relieve Kylian from stress.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the waiters guided you to a reserved area. Your suspicions grew when you saw this area was covered by a curtain. Upon opening it, a loud "Surprise!" rang out, and you were greeted with a multitude of hugs and questions about how your recent years had been. Meanwhile, Kylian quickly adapted, chatting with some of your friends he had met that morning or conversing with their partners.

The dinner at the skyscraper was a resounding success. Your friends were surprised to see Kylian, and he quickly won their affection with his warmth and simplicity. The speech he prepared was emotional and sincere, eliciting applause and tears from everyone present. In his words, you could clearly see how much he loved you. He thanked you for following "this crazy head" and for never doubting him, even in his wildest plans. He promised to always make you the happiest person in the world, to take care of you, to be your unconditional support, and above all, to plan your future together with both of your interests in mind.

Kylian felt much more at ease knowing that your friends had accepted him. However, the great challenge of being accepted by your family still lay ahead. He had tried his usual routine to calm his nerves: a cold shower in the morning, a light breakfast, and an intense gym session. But it didn't seem to work today. So, when you informed him that you were going to take a shower to start getting ready, Kylian didn't hesitate to call his mother.

She had always been there for him, not only as a professional and great agent capable of negotiating with major clubs but also emotionally. She was the person who had been by his side during his first breakup, and luckily, she had already had the opportunity to meet you.

"Hello, mom," Kylian said softly as he sat on the hotel bed. "I need some advice… Today is the day I'll meet y/n's family, and I can't help feeling nervous."

His mother, with her usual wisdom and affection, reminded him that being himself was the most important thing. "They will love you for who you are, Kylian. You have shown yourself to be an incredible person, and take the opportunity for them not to be your fans but to fall in love with the real Kylian and not the superstar. Besides, y/n loves you deeply. Trust in that."

His mother's words gave Kylian the reassurance he needed, knowing that everything she said was true. Ten months ago, Fayza had the chance to meet you at a gala organized by Mbappé's association. She was completely captivated seeing you interact so naturally with young children, showing your genuine interest in ensuring everyone was happy and enjoying the day. When you finally made sure all the children were content and had received a small bag with the association's logo, including coloring books, crayons, and a soccer ball, you approached Fayza, apologizing for not being able to do so sooner. So when a child clamored for your attention again, Fayza discreetly approached Kylian to make sure to tell him that she knew you were the love of his life.

After hanging up, Kylian felt more prepared for the meeting. At the end of the day, it wasn't just about impressing your family but showing them how much you meant to him.

When you arrived at your parent's house, your mother opened the door with a big smile, politely greeting Kylian and enveloping you in a warm hug, welcoming you both into your childhood home with her natural charm. Entering the living room, you spotted your siblings with your father. After the initial greetings, you all managed to sit in different parts of the room before Kylian handed out the gifts he had brought, carefully considering your family's preferences.

It's true that your younger siblings weren't big fans of soccer and hadn't heard of Kylian before, but they knew he was a great athlete. Above all, they had seen in recent videos his dedication to the sport and the good values he promoted on the field, so they didn't hesitate to excitedly rush to put on their jerseys while shyly hugging Kylian.

Your mother was delighted with the flowers he had given her and asked about the florist where he had gotten them before quickly running to get a vase and put the flowers in water. But your father was different.

He had always been like this: very affectionate but also very overprotective and, above all, a joker. He had always taken every opportunity to scare the boys you brought home.

"A bottle of wine, Kylian, huh? Interesting. I hope this isn't an indirect way of wishing me to kick the bucket soon, young man. And I also hope this isn't in your regular drinks, because if it is, I'll doubt your sporting abilities."

Nervously, Kylian began to stammer, "Monsieur, I mean, sorry, sir, it wasn't my intention, I…"

"Dad, stop making him nervous and behave yourself. We have a cellar at home, I don't know who you're trying to impress," you replied annoyed, giving Kylian a reassuring look.

The tension had already set in, and even though you tried to calm Kylian by gently caressing his hand, you understood that this wasn't entirely calming him. With each passing minute, his discomfort became more evident.

A few minutes later, your father insisted again with another uncomfortable question: "So, Kylian, tell us, what makes soccer the best sport in the world for you?"

"Uh, well, there are many good sports and I appreciate several of them, but soccer has always been the sport I've practiced. I just enjoy it like a little kid when I play with my teammates. I really enjoy playing a team sport," nervously replied Kylian.

"Well, I value your opinion, but let me question what you've said. I'm not sure if you've considered that soccer is a sport where many people win titles, but only one player from the team stands out. That doesn't happen in basketball. Everyone must stand out, whether as a team, training hard individually, and respecting the coach's decisions. The latter you've had a hard time with in the last year, haven't you, Kylian?"

Kylian didn't know where to put himself. He didn't expect his girlfriend's family to criticize his sporting actions. He agreed that many times he hadn't had the best reactions, but he was working on that. "Yes, sir, I know it's something I need to work on and…"

"Dad, stop it. It's the last time I tell you," you responded firmly, with a challenging look.

"But if we're just having a conversation, right, Kylian?" your father said.

"Yes, yes, calm down, honey," Kylian replied, trying to smooth over the situation.

Taking advantage of the uncomfortable pause, your mother entered the room with a tray of refreshments and some snacks, trying to ease the tension. "Let's relax a bit, okay? We're here to have a good time and get to know each other better," she said with a smile.

Grateful for the change of subject, Kylian dove into conversation about some childhood memories and funny anecdotes from his career. Your younger siblings, fascinated, started asking him lighter questions about his training sessions and encounters with other famous athletes.

The evening continued with ups and downs, but gradually everyone relaxed. Kylian took the opportunity to show his more human and approachable side, which slowly won over your father's sympathy.

The tension continued to build in the room when your father, with a cunning smile, asked, "And tell me, Kylian, are you a fan of any basketball team?"

"Yes, sir, I'm a big fan of the Lakers," Kylian replied with a tentative smile.

"I can't believe it, the most wretched team of the season. Do you really support a team like that? If you consider yourself a great player, which I'm still not convinced of, you should support a great team like the Celtics," your father replied, not hiding his disdain.

Kylian had lost all the energy he had. He felt mentally exhausted and didn't know what to say anymore. He lowered his head, ashamed, feeling like he had failed to impress your father.

"That's enough, we've had enough. Kylian, let's go," you said, getting up quickly. Kylian was astonished, not expecting you to take his side and confront your father.

"No, honey, it's okay," Kylian tried to calm you, though he clearly appreciated your support.

At the end of the night, when the atmosphere had calmed down, your father approached Kylian with a softer expression. "You know, soccer may not be my favorite sport, but I see how hard you work and how much you mean to my daughter. I just want you to know that you have a family here that will support you, as long as you make her happy."

Kylian touched and shook your father's hand firmly. "Thank you, sir. I promise to do everything I can to take care of her and make her happy."

When you finally retired to the hotel, Kylian looked at you with a mixture of relief and happiness. "It's been a tough day, but I think we passed the test."

You smiled, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. "Yes, we did. Together, as always."

That night, as you prepared to sleep, Kylian was reflective. "You know, I always knew meeting your family would be a challenge, but I didn't expect it to be so intense."

"My father has always been protective, but over time he'll see how amazing you are," you replied, gently caressing his face.

"I hope so. I want them to know how much I love you and how much you mean to me," said Kylian, with renewed determination.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 1

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the story that has had my entire weekend on lock. Like every spare moment was writing this story. I wrote over 6000 words in two days. So yeah. Don’t worry. I’m still working on Boy With a Bat (I just need time to research season 3 so I don’t over step on the show’s timeline {like I did with “Little Runaway”}). And of course I love working on “All My Roads Lead Back to You” and will continue working on it as well. Also these first two parts are long. I don’t know if all the parts will be as long, but as you can see when you read them there isn’t a lot of places to stop (and not make them super short).

Summary: No Monster Modern AU. Eddie and his band, Corroded Coffin, have a steady gig at a bar in Indy where they play every weekend. Eddie's life takes a left turn when his regular tattoo artist, Max Mayfield, moves to New York with her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair, newly traded to the New York Knicks.  Now needing a new tattoo artist, Jeff recommends "Royal Pain", which even Max agrees is a good shop.  On arrival, Eddie is shocked to find Steve is the shop's artist.  They hit it off, and slowly move from the barest of acquaintances to boyfriends.

***

“God damn it!” Eddie growled, throwing his phone at the sofa and snarling when it bounced to the floor.

“One day you’re gonna throw it so hard and it will break,” Gareth grumbled from behind his drum set.

It was Corroded Coffin’s weekly practice. They weren’t big or anything, but they had a steady gig at a local metal bar and it paid good money. They drew large enough crowds that they were able to play their own music.  

Eddie hopped to his feet to retrieve the discarded phone from the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Jeff asked from the same sofa Eddie had tossed the phone at. He was tuning his guitar, ear bent toward the strings.

Eddie scoffed. “Like you have any interest in my panties.”

Jeff lunged and grabbed one of Gareth’s drumsticks from the bucket he kept at his side and threw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” both Gareth and Eddie protested.

“Just answer the damn question!” Brian sneered from his place on the battered old floral armchair. “You usually like bitching, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie flopped gracelessly on the lavender two-seater.  “That was my tattoo artist,” he groused, crossing his arms petulantly. “Her boyfriend got traded to the New York Knicks so they are moving there and if I want to get my dragon finished before she leaves, I better ‘haul ass’ according to her.”

Eddie’s friends winced. They knew finding a tattoo artist you could trust in a style you liked was hard. And for Eddie to lose his? That sucked. Max Mayfield was one of the best in Indy and to lose her to New York? That was even worse. But her boyfriend, Lucas Sinclair, was an NBA raising star and she went where did. Which meant Eddie had to start all over with a new artist.

Suddenly Eddie straightened up. “Hey, Jeffie!” he said. “Did you ever get that tattoo you wanted done?”

Jeff lit up. “Oh yeah!” He set his guitar aside and rolled up his sleeve and showed them his tattoo. It was of a bullet tearing through the flesh. It was fantastically rendered, where you could see the torn muscles and broken bone. It covered the scar there perfectly. “Isn’t it fucking amazing?”

“Holy shit!” Brian cried. “That is so wicked.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Yeah fuck, man. Where did you get that?”

“It’s this little place called Royal Pain,” Jeff explained. “The artist, Stevie is so fucking good.”

Eddie chewed on his lip, thinking hard. “Hey, can I get the number?”

*

Eddie was standing in front of a shop that he wouldn’t have in a million years would have even suspected was a tattoo parlor. It was a clean and bright storefront. The sign was black with a golden crown was on the R. It was a far cry from any other tattoo parlor he had ever been to. But despite his reservations, both Max and Jeff highly recommended this place and specifically this ‘Stevie’.

Sighing deeply, he yanked open the door and took two steps into the shop. The decor was nice enough, it had a ‘royal’ theme to it, he supposed, but he really didn’t look that much. Because suddenly Eddie knew who Stevie was. The name, the royal decor, and Robin fucking Buckley as receptionist.

He was going to kill Jeff. Or maybe just his next three D&D characters. Because there was no way on this insignificant planet did Jeff Lawrence not recognize King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. They had all gone to school together. Robin was Steve’s best friend. His soulmate if the rumors were to be believed.

He was about to turn around and walk out, Jeff and Max’s recommendations be damned. Even he wasn’t that masochistic. But he was stopped by the cheerful, “Welcome to Royal Pain! How can I help you?”

Eddie winced and rubbed his eye in frustration, but made his way up to the counter. “Munson, Eddie. I have a two o’clock with Stevie.”

Her smile grew genuine. “Not your first tattoo, I take it.”

Eddie pulled down the collar of his shirt to show of his finished dragon tattoo. “Yeah, no. Some asshole jock absconded to New York with my tattoo artist, so here I am.”

She grinned. “Stevie will be out in a moment.”

Before Eddie could chicken out, the man himself came out of a backroom, wiping off his hands. Eddie gulped. Steve looked very much the same as he did in high school. Same hazel eyes, honey hair, tight jeans and a fucking polo. This guy couldn’t have looked less like a tattoo artist if he tried. Except for one thing.

He could see tattoos on Steve’s arms. He couldn’t get a good look at them without staring but yeah, okay. Steve Harrington, tattoo artist. Who would have thought?

Steve looked up and smiled brightly. “Eddie?” Eddie nodded. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. I had hoped when I saw the name that it was you. How’s it been?”

Robin tilted her head in confusion and made an odd chirping noise.

“Come on, Robs,” Steve teased her. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember Eddie from school.”

She looked Eddie up and down and then cocked her head. “You do look vaguely familiar.”

Steve laughed. “You know, ran the D&D club, had that rock band–”

“Metal,” Eddie corrected. “Not rock, metal.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s right, sorry. Oh! And stood on tables ranting about the man and how schools fail the kids they are supposed to teach.”

“You stepped on my sandwich,” she said deadpan.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Whoops.”

She grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Just kidding. It was Tammy Thompson’s sandwich.”

“Isn’t she the one that sings like a Muppet?” Eddie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Robin looked between them both and growled, “I hate you both.”

“You’re only saying that because you had a crush on her,” Steve teased.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you swung for the other team, Buckley.”

She grinned. “What can I say, I do love a pretty girl.”

Eddie shrugged and cocked his head, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t know.”

Robin wagged her eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes. He turned to Eddie. “So what am I doing for you today?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Oh!” He pulled out a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Steve.

“This is the Evenstar from Lord of the Rings, right?” Steve asked, tapping the picture. “Arwen’s necklace.”

Eddie lit up. “Yeah. I’m impressed, even uber fans have a hard time remembering that.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “I have this friend that hosts huge parties watching the extended versions of the movies every year. Complete with full Hobbit meals. It’s hard not take in something from the films.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, suddenly feeling less like murdering Jeff with each passing moment.

Steve smiled back. “Actually, you might remember him. He was in your club, your final year at school.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Actually, you had three of Steve’s nuggets in your club,” Robin interjected.

Eddie turned to Steve. “What nuggets would those be?”

Steve blushed again. “I used to quasi-babysit these kids. There were about seven of them, if you count Erica and Elle.”

“Which I absolutely do,” Robin crowed delightedly.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he leaned forward. “You babysat kids?”

Steve shrugged. “They were good kids and their parents worked a lot, so they just kinda imprinted on me. Like ducklings.”

“Wait...Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, huh?” Eddie asked putting two and two together. “Holy fucking shit. I loved running their characters. The ranger, the paladin and the bard.” He couldn’t believe it. He had missed out the chance to run with their friend Will, but he had come back to Hawkins after Eddie finally graduated. “Which one was Dustin?”

Steve smiled and then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Floofy hair, trucker hats, Weird Al shirts, and a huge theater nerd.”

Eddie clapped and pointed, “That’s the one!” He tapped his finger over his lips. “Which means it’s Dustin that hosts the Lord of the Rings fest, isn’t he?”

Steve beamed up at him. “Yeah. Sadly I haven’t been able to go the last couple of years.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“Migraines,” Steve said with a wince. “Too long staring at a TV set can trigger them, who knew?”

“That sucks.”

Steve looked back at the picture in his hand. “Did you draw this?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, big boy!”

“And would you want me to tattoo it in your style?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “You can do that?”

Robin folded her arms, looking smug. “Hell yeah, he can!”

“I mean, if you can that would be amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Where is it going, the tattoo, I mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie tapped his chest. “Sternum.”

Steve chewed his lip thoughtfully. “That would be awesome, but have you thought about putting it on your back. Like a shadow covering your spine?”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

Eddie shook his head. “As tempting as that would be sweetheart, I have plans for my back.”

Steve looked a little disappointed. “And what would that be?”

“I want big black bat wings on my shoulder blades,” Eddie said gleefully. “I just haven’t found anyone who’s style I liked well enough to trust doing it.”

Steve hurried around the desk and pulled out a large three-ring binder. “This is all my work, flip through it, see if you like my style enough for me to do it for you. Because I would love to. So take a look and let me know if I could be your man.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll go set up and I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He practically skipped to the back room again.

Eddie opened the binder slowly and began to shift the pages. They were all amazing pieces of work that only seemed to get better the further he got into the pictures.

“These are amazing,” he breathed.

Robin leaned on the counter and stage whispered, “If you do not get his number after he does your tattoo, I will murder you and no one will find the body.” She leaned back to look down the hall. What she saw Eddie didn’t know, but she leaned back into whisper to him, low and menacing, “I am not paid enough to listen to his rom-com pining bullshit.”  

Eddie looked behind her and then back at her. “I’m–I mean–what the hell?”

“Eddie!” Steve called.

Eddie slammed the binder shut and stomped to the back. He stopped short when he got to room. Again he was blown away at how opposite it was from other shops he’d been to. It wasn’t sterile white or anything like that but it was brightly lit and nicely decorated. It was a place that most ‘normies’ would feel comfortable getting their first tattoo. And he got the appeal.

Steve looked up at him with a lopsided smile as if he understood why Eddie was brought up short. “Other tattoo artists give me such shit about my set up, but it’s not about the aesthetic of what people think a tattoo shop should look like. It’s about people feeling comfortable about permanently altering their bodies.”

Eddie nodded. “No man, I get it. It’s just a pleasant surprise, you know?”

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks. Come on, have a seat. Take off your shirt. Relax.” He paused for a moment. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Eddie laughed and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on a nearby chair. He got on the lounge chair and laid back. He noticed the way Steve dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked. Maybe Buckley was right.

“You’ve got a lot of great tattoos,” Steve said, wiping down Eddie’s chest with a mild anesthetic to clean the area. “Your old tattoo artist do those?”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I mean most of them. A couple were stick and poke when I was high school.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re all really good.”

Eddie blushed. He figured Steve was just being polite because he thought it was fairly obvious which ones were the stick and poke. “Speaking of high school, I would have never in a million years thought that King Steve would become a tattoo artist. You been doing this long?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I got voted most likely to run my own business, but I’m pretty sure they thought something closer along the lines of hair care or some such shit.”

“At least yours was nice,” Eddie grumbled. “I got voted most likely to still be high school at the ten year reunion.”

Steve winced. “Was that the first time or the second time they held you back?”

“First.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Steve commiserated. “Yeah, no, I’ve been doing this for the last five years. Three years at my own shop.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait really? That’s epic, dude.”

Steve nodded. “I went with a friend of mine to see about apprenticing under Hop. He caught me doodling on myself because I forgot to bring my drawing pad and offered the apprenticeship to us both.”

“I can see why,” Eddie said. “You do some pretty impressive work. Who was the friend? Robin?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no...I love Robin, and she is a lot of wonderful things, artist just isn’t one of them.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Steve picked up his gun and sat down on the rolling stool. “Nope, Max Mayfield. One of my nuggets, as Robin called them.”

Eddie blinked. “Shit, dude. She was my old tattoo artist? You two really apprenticed under Hop?”

Steve hummed. “Yup.” He turned on the gun and then shut it off again. “I know you said that you wanted it in your style, but can I add my own flourishes to it?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, sure. I liked what you did with Jeff’s tattoo, so yeah. Knock yourself out, man.”

Steve grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03

[b0r3dtod3ath]

hi! Can you write a Ben Shelton fic where you are like a tennis player and that's how yall meet? And it's kinda like a friends to lover type? Thanks!

a/n: i dont think he's into nba but yea, i hope you like it (:

You were what Ben wanted to be - feared by others and great at tennis. Bryan knew about his son’s admiration towards you so he was more than happy to break the news to him. Many stories were told about you. Some said you were unbeatable, others whispered about your intense focus and the cold, intimidating look you gave your opponents. Ben had seen you play a few times, and each time he was mesmerized by your precision and power. 

Ben’s dad was talking to your coach when the three of you stood on one of the courts. Ben was furious for letting himself oversleep, he didn’t know how it happened, how could he show up late while meeting you for the first time. The truth is he wasn’t late, you were just early but it didn’t calm his mind. He saw you - listening to your coach, wearing a dark outfit - your fashion staple. Ben’s stomach tightened. He walked over, his heart pounding in sync with his footsteps. 

“Oh! Ben, this is Y/N. Y/N, meet Ben,” your coach introduced with a warm smile. You turned to face Ben, your eyes meeting his with warmth that he didn’t expect. A genuine smile spread across your face as you extended a hand. “Hi, Ben. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things”. He shook your hand and stood speechless, he looked like a starstruck teenager but quickly got back to reality. “Oh, uh, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you as well”. 

The news spread like wildfire. The combination of your skills and personalities created a buzz that was hard to ignore. As the tournament began, the two of you quickly proved to be amongst the best duos. Your synergy on court was captivating to watch. Small gestures - smirks, whispers and even touches between you two made your fans go feral. But you were just teammates, at that point even friends was still a bit of a big word. 

Over the course of time, Ben became more and more comfortable. One of the advantages of playing together was the time spent with each other. As you two figured out your strengths, weaknesses and tactics on court, Ben also got to know you, the real you. Behind powerful moves, intimidating aura and urban legends stood one of the nicest people he had ever met.  

After a particularly exhausting match, where both of you fought hard and won by a narrow margin, Ben suggested grabbing dinner. "There's this great Italian place nearby. Want to check it out?" he asked, hopeful. You nodded without a second thought. "Sure, why not”. 

Dinner turned into a regular thing. Initially, the conversations revolved around tennis strategies and upcoming matches. But as the nights grew longer and the dinners more frequent, the topics started to change. You two started talking about your plans for the future, childhood memories, favorite films, and even guilty pleasures. You found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, Ben's humor and genuine interest were key to getting closer to you.

You two spent all the time together - morning coffee runs, pre-match pep talks, and late-night strategy sessions. It wasn’t annoying, it was nice to have someone to keep you grounded. You always said that “it’s crucial to have a good relationship with your teammate” but deep down you knew that you just liked Ben a lot and wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. 

"You know, I really value our relationship. It's been a long time since I've felt this close to someone.” he suddenly said while you were in your hotel room watching a movie as a way to relax after a match. "Me too, Ben. You've become really important to me” you said and wrapped yourself around his arm, snuggling closer. 

Quickly, the lines between friends and something more began to blur. There were moments when a simple touch lingered a bit too long or a glance conveyed more than words ever could. Despite these subtle shifts, neither of you rushed to label what was happening. You both seemed to enjoy the slow, natural progression of your relationship.

It was a late summer night, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of crickets. The tennis courts were deserted except for the two of you, the lights casting long shadows across the empty courts.

You and Ben had stayed late to squeeze in some extra practice, both of you determined to perfect your game for the upcoming tournament. After what seemed like hours of intense rallies and drills, you called for a break. You collapsed onto the court, laughing and gasping for air, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Ben quickly joined you, laying on the grass. "That was intense," Ben remarked between breaths, a grin spreading across his face. You chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Definitely. But I feel good about us”. Ben turned to look at you, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "You're incredible out there, you know that?" You felt a warm flush of pride at his words, but there was something more in his gaze - a depth of emotion that went beyond the game. It was a look that made your heart skip a beat as you quickly shifted your gaze to the stars above you. 

"Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself," you replied playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Ben felt a burst of confidence when suddenly he propped himself up on his hands, hovering over you with a mischievous look in his eyes. It was your time to feel like a stupid teenager. 

“Yeah?” he said with a smirk. “Yea” you replied with a smile, silently letting him know you are comfortable. His close proximity sent a wave of electricity through you, the playful banter fading into an unspoken tension. His gaze softened and he leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle, tender warmth. Time seemed to stand still as you responded, your hand instinctively reaching up to touch his cheek. "Sorry if that was too forward," Ben murmured when you finally broke the kiss, his voice slightly husky. You shook your head, feeling a surge of happiness. "No, it was perfect”. 

Weeks passed, and your relationship deepened. Despite your growing affection, you decided to keep it private. It was easier to focus on tennis without the media circus that would inevitably follow.

You two started attending NBA games, it was a nice form of date and opportunity to relax without worrying too much. Taking your minds off tennis to watch something else did great for both of you. You were spotted a few times, sitting close, but to others you looked just like good friends. 

It was a Friday night when you and Ben blended effortlessly in with the crowd. As the game progressed, you cheered and groaned, completely absorbed in the thrilling atmosphere. During a break, the large screens above the court suddenly switched to the infamous Kiss Cam segment. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter as the camera panned to different pairs in the audience, capturing their reactions.

Then, the camera focused on you both. Ben grinned and leaned towards you, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "I think we're on. What do we do now?". Before he could react you grabbed him by his chin and planted a soft kiss on his lips. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause just before the camera found another couple.

As you pulled back, cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment, Ben flashed you a reassuring smile. It was a spontaneous and public declaration, that neither of you regretted.

July 11, 2024

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (01) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.2k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Boston by Augustana; Shelter by Luca Fogale || Playlist 🎶

A/N: Posting this today to celebrate People pt.2 and D-Day! Here’s a little piece I’ve had for a while. It felt fitting to write something about dreams and finding your purpose through Yoongi and at a time when I’m going through something similar. There’s nothing like his wisdom and his warmth so I hope this could mean something to you somehow. 💕 Please enjoy! And 🫡 to NBA Ambassador Suga! Now that’s his 🏀 dream in another form.

Present Day

There’s always something magical whenever you watch yourself on screen. 

It’s not due to some narcissistic reason or an insatiable desire for the spotlight; it’s not even because you think you’re really talented. Sure, you like the attention and just like anyone who’s spent years of their lives perfecting their craft, you want to be pretty great at it, but all those thoughts become suspended whenever it’s your scene. 

During these instances, it’s only about your character and her emotions, and that’s what you think is remarkable about it - watching yourself is just like being there, in that moment, on that set, feeling it all. 

Most actors would say they love acting because it gives them a variety of roles and personalities to play. You like that bit, too, but it’s the character’s emotions that you commit yourself to the most; it’s being able to immerse yourself in the feelings of joy and anger, of contempt and fear, of envy and admiration, of guilt and love. You like the finiteness of it, that with acting comes the feeling, and you know at some point, it’s going to end. 

Once the scene is over, so is the emotion; you’re able to let go of it right away with one breath. You’re good at that, you think - holding onto something for as long as it’s yours, and then letting it go when it no longer is. 

The collective gasp of the people around you breaks your bubble only a little; you release a breath yourself as the last scene unfolds. And with the final shot and the succeeding transition to the end credits, you let go of the sadness.

“I can’t believe that only took one shot,” your best friend, Taehyung, says in awe. “I would’ve been crying already knowing how it ends.”

“Jin and I challenged each other,” you proudly say. “We said we’d do our absolute best for that first try and the director thought it was that good. Seriously, not crying until that last second was so hard; I didn’t think I could do it.”

The Kim Seokjin, your co-actor and good friend, looks at you from the other side of the couch with that soft and proud look that you only ever get from him once a project is over. You return the sentiment, knowing that you wouldn’t have survived your first lead role in a drama series if he wasn’t acting alongside you. 

He’d been your senior at university where you both took your major in acting. He was already modeling then and snagged a major role in a movie right after graduation; he became a household name after that. 

You watched from the sidelines as he achieved his dreams while you took the occasional 30-second roles given to the students, but he didn’t forget you. He called regularly to know how you were doing, gave tips when you asked, and informed you of upcoming auditions. 

It was the type of friendship that challenged you, given that you both wanted to one day star in a series or movie together, a culmination of all the long hours of rehearsals and line-reading and classes that you both did. He had already made a name for himself; you wanted to be good enough to have yours be opposite his. 

It would take a few years, but after a supporting role in a romcom movie that saw people wanting more of you, you and Jin finally got cast in a series about a mortal woman falling in love with a celestial being, which, at the beginning, reflected your respective statuses in the industry. You expected the show to do well - everything that Kim Seokjin touches turns to gold, as the saying goes - but you didn’t expect for the public to love you both as a pair as much as they do, given that they want you to star in another show right away. 

“I cried as I turned around,” Jin says of the scene where he had to go back to his world and leave you behind. “That was heavy and even I’m impressed we did it in one shot.”

“Well, the sadness and grief would have dwindled by the third or fourth time,” you chuckle. “I’m not good enough yet to maintain all the emotions after so many takes.”

“Not that you aren’t good enough,” Jin counters. “You just haven’t been in the industry that long yet. That kind of experience makes a difference. I’d say I wouldn’t have been able to sustain the same emotion for long, too. It was a difficult one. I mean, what goodbye scene isn’t?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course, but much of why it was difficult for you to keep the emotions in was because it was your first goodbye scene. You have a feeling that the succeeding ones wouldn’t be any easier, though. You’d like to think you’re okay with goodbyes and that says a lot, but then again, you don’t know anyone who’s actually good at it.

Or maybe you do. But you’d rather not think about it.

It’s silent for a few more seconds. You suppose that the rest of your co-actors who are here with you are still processing the end of a series that’s been their source of comfort for the past few months, too. It had been your weekly routine to watch the episode together in Jin’s house, not wanting to let go of each other just yet after filming wrapped up a few weeks ago. 

“Well, that was amazing, wasn’t it?” He finally speaks up. “It was a good run and thank god that ___ insisted on these watch parties. Or else I’d be crying by myself in my room after the finale,” he laughs. “This better not be the last time we see each other.”

“Because it isn’t,” you reply. “We still have that cast and crew dinner and a couple more filming stuff for promo. That’s easily another 3 more weeks of being together. Which is really 3 weeks too short.”

“So… does anyone want to go on a trip after that?” Hyun-seung, one of the actors, excitedly suggests. “It’d be a good way to unwind and use up what we’ll earn.”

You laugh along with everyone but you’re the only one who passes up on it. 

“I can’t,” you sigh. “I have a trip to Daegu at the end of the month and I can’t move it.”

Disappointed sighs echo throughout the living room, and you insist that they should continue with the trip without you. Most of them don’t want to, but you eye Jin so that he would make the call to push through with it even if you won’t be around, so he does. It’s rare to find such good company with other actors, and you truly want them to maintain the friendships they built here way beyond the series. 

Your friends make general plans as you listen in, wishing you could be there instead of home, which is where you’ll be for the next 2 months as you promised your family. Or more like, as they guiltripped you into doing. 

You haven’t been home in years and for good reason. After your parents separated and you were the lone child who didn’t harbor anger towards your mother who wanted to pursue her dreams elsewhere, you promised yourself you’d leave that place, too. 

Visits during summer had been fine. But after the most painful goodbye you ever made, you’d stopped going back altogether, reasoning that your up and coming career required all your time. You doubt that your family knew the truth, and despite their remarks of you following in the footsteps of your mother, those weren’t enough for you to open up about something so heartbreaking, knowing it hit too close to home. Their bitterness wasn’t a reason for you to keep going back either. 

“Daegu, really?” Jin asks after everyone else has left, save for Taehyung and Jimin, your personal assistant whose glassy eyes say he’s not yet over the season finale. “You haven’t been home in 6 years.”

“Four, actually,” you correct him. “I had a filming there sometime ago.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t actually go home,” he clarifies. “You went to the shoot then back to your hotel. I remember that; I kept asking Tae how you were doing.”

“I was fine,” you shrug. “How was I supposed to be? I was good, just couldn’t wait to get back here. I had a boyfriend, remember?”

“Andrew was a fling, not a boyfriend,” Jin rolls his eyes, and you confirm that the model is his least favorite of your exes. “And if I remember correctly, you broke it off days later.”

“Well, it stops being good when it stops being fun,” Taehyung says, mocking your usual statement whenever your friends ask why you broke things off with your partners. “She shut down when she came back. I guess going home does that to her.”

“You know how places just naturally comfort you? Daegu isn’t that place,” you try to explain. “I had to get it off my system for the one week I was there and Andrew acted out. I just didn’t want the drama.”

Everyone nods, knowing it’s how you usually are. You always viewed relationships as a complement to your job. Being an actor is tough work with its own complications and you definitely don’t want it from your partner. It was always easy for you to fall into that honeymoon hole with someone, but you always walked away from it just as quick once the rainbows and butterflies had subsided. Whether it’s jealousy over your leading men or not having enough time, or just wanting to be by yourself to regroup, your exes always found a reason to argue. And you were always good at walking away when you needed to.

It was like that with every person. Except one. Your friends don’t know if he’s the reason why, or if he’s the exception.

“So what made you decide to go home? And for how long?” Jin queries, feeling a little worried because of what he knows is out there for you. He’s always been a little protective like that.

“About 2 months?” You respond, to the surprise of the older man. “My dad wants me to celebrate his wedding anniversary with them. And spend time with my sisters’ kids and my grandparents and shit.”

“And spend time with my parents,” Taehyung adds, knowing it’s probably the only thing you’re excited about, given how much they adore you and vice versa. “They can’t wait to see you.”

“Same here,” you finally smile. “We’re definitely seeing them first.”

“Anyone else you’re going to see there?” Jin asks some more.

“You can say his name, you know?” You nudge your friend’s knee. “I know he’s who you mean.”

“Well then. Are you going to see Yoongi?”

“I don’t plan on seeing him but I probably will. It’s a big city but it’s a small town. Plus, I’m with Daegu’s Prince right here,” you say, pointing to your best friend who’s made a name for himself as a ballad singer. “Tae will be dragging me around so I won’t be surprised if I encounter Yoongi somehow, somewhere.”

“And what happens when you see him?” Jimin now asks, wanting to know if he’d need to drive to you in case you decide to come home early. 

“Then I see him. We’re… fine,” you state, earning you an eye roll from each man, so you clarify. “I mean, I’m perfectly fine living my dream in Seoul. And he’s a college basketball coach in Daegu, which is the closest to his dream he could get, and I heard his team’s doing really well. It’s been 6 years. He let me go. And I’ve moved on. Who knows how it’s gonna be like? But I’m civil with each one of my exes and it won’t be any different with him.”

“He’s different, though,” Jimin points out. “You actually loved him; you can’t say the same for all your exes. And you can’t argue that,” he adds, seeing your shaking head and disagreeing face. “Drunk and hungover you told me all that more than once and I trust that version of you over the sober one when it comes to your love life.”

“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,” you frown at him. “I wasn’t going to deny that but it was the naive, impulsive, hopeless romantic version of me who loved him. That’s not me anymore. I’ve grown up. I know what I want from my partner, and Yoongi is just the small town boy who’ll always think that his broken dreams will keep him from loving me the way I deserve. And maybe he’s right.”

It’s quiet for a while, as your friends take in your words since you rarely ever talk about the man unless you’re in an inebriated state or recovering from it. But it’s the first time that the possibility of seeing him looms over you, knowing that within those 2 months, you’re bound to run into him somehow. 

Now it’s too quiet, and you realize that none of you know what to say since you’re all sober. Truth be told, you don’t remember anything that Jimin’s ever told you during those times that you opened up, and Jin never really said much, knowing how hard that breakup hit you. And Taehyung, well… the man was there before, during, and after it all, yet he never really said much, always choosing to let the silence engulf both of you.

“Look, I’m touched you all seem to be worried,” you finally speak up. “But I’m going to be fine. I found a house I’m renting that’s nice and private. I’m actually excited to eat at my favorite restaurants and visit places I’ve missed. I can’t do anything about my family but at least Tae will be with me the whole time and save me from their madness if he needs to. And Yoongi, well… he’s a closed chapter in my book. There’s no reason to revisit that. Hi, goodbye - that’ll be it, just like before.”

You sigh to yourself, hoping that your friends would take your word for it, though you don’t really blame them if they don’t. They’ve seen you barely bat an eye after calling it quits with your exes but they’ve heard of how broken you were because of that breakup; seeing Yoongi again might just bring up old memories that you might not be ready for. And they won’t all be there to lift you up like they’d want to. 

“Okay then, if you say so,” Jin finally smiles. “But if something comes up… you know I can always drive there and bring you back here.”

“And add to the already existing rumors about us being a thing?” You laugh, referring to all the social media fodder about your chemistry that’s too good, it might be real. 

“So? Then we let it,” he shrugs.

“Does the Kim Seokjin not care about dating rumors?” You gasp. “You always complained about it. Don’t tell me you like me.”

Jin sits next to you and cups your face in his hands. “I… love you. The way a dear friend who dreamed with you and who gets to live that out with you does. We all love you. We’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” you say, humming once he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, just like all the times he’d done before - when you graduated university, when you didn’t get callbacks, and when you landed your first major role. “Thank you.”

You decide to head out after a long evening. Jimin lists your activities for the next day before he’s dropped off at his apartment. Taehyung lets you listen to his new single for his upcoming album, and you get emotional over his soulful sound and the fact that he gets to live out his dream with you, too.

He walks you to your front door and hugs you tightly, just like all the times he’d done before - when you cried about your family, when Yoongi broke up with you, and when you found out he was dating someone new. 

“I love you, okay?” Your best friend whispers. 

He says it in that soft, comforting voice of his. The one that always told you that things were gonna be fine, as if love solves all things, and at one point, you believed it did. 

Your hometown of Daegu looks very different from the last time you were really here. It changed a lot. And it changed pretty quickly. 

But some things about it stay the same - family-run restaurants, streets lined with little shops passed down from generations, the parks and the temples, the playground in your old neighborhood with the basketball court that you know all too well.

They make the place home, Mrs. Kim says. That doesn’t change no matter how far or how long you’ve been away. 

You want to disagree. This place was never home. It felt like bits of it during the times you used to watch ballet performances at the Opera House with your mom or when your dad used to grill makchang on Friday nights. 

But when she decided to leave and then he remarried, you had just memories of home left. Your sisters’ resentment over your happiness for your mother as she achieved her dreams took all that was remaining, and coming here reminds you more than what you lost; it reminds you of what you can never have - that space to dream, the place of safety, the love that would endure time and distance. 

You enjoy the best short ribs dish over Mr. Kim’s recordings of his saxophone performances. Mrs. Kim dotes on you like her own daughter, and Taehyung announces all the things you’ll be doing now that you’re both back home, taking your respective breaks that you deserve, and spending the money that you worked hard for. 

You eventually leave for some rest. The house you’re staying at is far from the buzz of the city. It’s private and secure, a little too spacious for one, and boasts of the views of the mountains. Jimin had found it, knowing you’d need the peace and quiet amidst all that would be taking place during your short time here. 

Taehyung will be staying over at his parents’ place, but they insist that it’s open for you to visit anytime you want. You think you need the time for yourself, though. Your job often requires you to be around people, and you’re thankful for the choice you have now to be away from them. For some time, at least.

[From: Manager Jung] Are you settled? I’ve got a script for you to go through. Sending it now 

Your agent-slash-manager’s message disrupts your moment of tranquility as you sit out at the garden, watching the sun set. You’d arrived from Seoul in time for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon at Taehyung’s parents’ house before heading to yours. 

[To: Manager Jung] Yeah, all good. But give me a week until I read the script. Don’t want to think much about work yet 

[From: Manager Jung] Fine. Just don’t take too long 

You sigh, knowing that though you promised Jin and Jimin that you won’t be thinking about work while you’re here - you need a break from it all, they told you - your manager won’t really let you. And much as you want to complain about him pushing you real hard, you’re thankful that Jung Hoseok always does. 

He was the one who saw your talent and insisted you’ve got a bright future after one casting call that you were almost late for. He was strategic in which roles to pitch you for as a rookie actor, and which ones would get you ahead of the game, no matter how challenging it was. During the times you wondered if you were meant for this industry, he always assured you that you were. There was always going to be a bigger break after the last, he believed, and he promised you he’d go searching for that role until you got the biggest break of your career. 

And every time you think he’ll cross the line of pressuring you too much, he says something sweet, brotherly, friendly. 

[From: Manager Jung] But take care of yourself there, ok? Don’t let them talk down on you. Don’t let them crush your dreams 

You’d cry if his words came with a hug.

[From: Manager Jung] And guard your heart. Don’t let him hurt you again 

You pretend he means your father; he let your sisters’ resentment of you go on after all, and his inaction made you feel unloved in your own home. 

You don’t want to think that Hoseok means someone else because it would mean that for all the times you questioned if everything you gave up to chase your dream was worth it, then he knew it was because of the man who broke your heart 6 years ago. You don’t want to think that all these years, Hoseok knew that your buzz-worthy dating life, whose aftermath he always had to manage, was just your futile attempt at getting over the first and only man you ever loved. 

Being in any sports facility unsettles you. You always claim that the buzz of sporting events just isn’t your cup of tea - you prefer the noise of a film or television set, or of a theater right before the movie starts. It wasn’t always like that, of course. You used to enjoy the screams and heckles of sports fans; you used to be one of them. 

But you found out the hard way that losing someone means you lose the parts of you that you’d adopted because of them, that you fall out of love with the things you used to love because of them.

Basketball is one of those things. It’s why Taehyung used to not invite you whenever there were Thunders games at Jamsil despite the free tickets always available for you; he knew you’d say no and he hates rejection. 

But Mr. Song is a man you can’t say no to. Not only is he the city’s mayor, he’s also a good friend of your father’s, which is how the chief official got wind of your return. 

Your trip isn’t meant to be publicized. Actors take breaks and visit their hometowns regularly without attracting the media, and oftentimes, that’s thanks to the local government, who employs their political will and own security to ensure that celebrities aren’t disturbed while they’re on vacation or just visiting family. It’s good for them, of course, but it also sometimes comes with small favors, like a private dinner with some of their close friends and some photos or autographs. You don’t really mind, especially since the same is extended to Taehyung, hence why the lunch earlier at the mayor’s residence wasn’t all that bad. It was only slightly awkward with your father because you chose to meet up with Taehyung’s family first before yours, but your dad didn’t dwell on it. 

Other than privacy, one other thing you get are free courtside Korean Basketball League tickets. The Pegasus just recently moved to Daegu from Incheon and there’d been a lot of promotion to get the city to give their full support to their new hometown team. Mr. Song thinks that photos of you and Taehyung attending the game will be the publicity that the team needs, and while your best friend genuinely agrees to the arrangement, you only do so half-heartedly. You’ll at least see your friends who are playing for the other team, but even the thought of Jungkook and Namjoon being back home and the party they’ll throw after is making you even more unsettled. 

“Hmm, number 16 was pretty cute,” you whisper to Taehyung as you head out of the locker room after some photos with the home team. “I wonder if he’ll be at the party tonight.”

“No, he won’t,” your best friend responds. 

“Why not? Because he’s from the other team? I’m sure that Jungkook won’t mind, right? I mean, yeah it’s his house but—”

“Tonight is for college friends only.”

“We didn’t even go to their university,” you point out, given that you and Taehyung studied in Seoul and had met there, instantly clicking after finding out you both hailed from the same city. “Why are we going?”

“We are honorary members,” he replies. “I went to high school with them and you…” he trails, trying to figure out how to phrase how you became an honorary member of their group of friends without bringing him up. 

“Are the ex of one of their friends,” you finish for him. “You can say it, you know?”

“I don’t know, can I?” He arches a brow.

“Yes. I don’t deny the fact that Yoongi and I dated.”

“You just deny how much it affected you.”

“You mistake my amazing ability of moving on for denial,” you groan. “But oh shit. Wait. Does this mean that he’ll be there at the party?”

Taehyung huffs as he settles in his seat and looks at your worried eyes. “For someone who doesn’t seem to be in denial, you sure look a bit anxious that he might be there tonight. Didn’t you say you can be civil with your exes?”

“Yeah, I can,” you reply defensively. “I don’t know about him. But then again, he moved on first, so I doubt seeing me would affect him much.”

Your best friend lets out a breath, not wanting to argue. He’s learned long ago that when it comes to Yoongi, you’re dead set on many things - like the narrative that he moved on first, that he was so much happier without you, that dreams were always more important for him, whether it was yours or his. Taehyung tried to help you process that whole experience, especially the aftermath, as you went on dating one man after another after you found out about Yoongi dating some local musician. 

But you always had a default answer, that you’ve always been that way - quick to fall in love and quick to fall out of it, and Yoongi was no exception. You met, fell in love, and while you technically didn’t fall out of love, the breakup left you no choice but to do just that; he was the one who insisted that you leave, after all, and you’d been the one too heartbroken that he didn’t love you enough to make you stay.

“Well then let’s just see what happens,” Taehyung shrugs. “We’ve got a game to watch, a party to go to, and friends to catch up with.”

“And a nice, peaceful home to retire to after tonight. I’ll need all the good energy before I see the rest of my family tomorrow,” you sigh.

Right, there’s that, Taehyung frowns. Your family’s too complicated that you insist you don’t want him to get sucked into the drama, hence why you don’t want him to go with you. But between that and the possibility of seeing your ex, he could only hope that during this trip, you won’t get your heart broken too early, too quickly, or too hard.

“How is it that the Pegasus have been playing here for months but it’s the first time we’re watching their game live?” Geumjae asks incredulously as he sips his beer. 

“Because it’s the first home game of the season against the Thunders when I’m home and when Jungkook and Namjoon don’t have girlfriends to give their tickets to,” Yoongi explains to his older brother. “And well, I never asked before.”

“Well, good on us that you’re here and your friends currently don’t have girlfriends,” Geumjae laughs. “Also, you could totally ask. They’re your friends; I don’t think it would be that hard for them to get extra seats for us.”

“I’m not their only friend here. I’m sure a bunch of the guys from college would ask,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“You’re not just their friend, Yoon,” his brother groans. “You played with them, you captained them, and led them to college championships.”

“Yeah, yet I’m the one hustling it out as a college coach while they’re playing pro,” the younger man huffs. 

He doesn’t mean to be bitter. He loves those guys, hustled it out with them until the late evenings just to get the proper training and workout in almost a decade ago. He couldn't be any prouder when Jungkook and Namjoon got drafted to professional teams and then reunited as teammates with the Seoul Samsung Thunders just 2 years ago. Yoongi had been the encouraging senior who messaged them right away, happy for his peers for being together again just like old times. He won’t lie and say it didn’t sting a bit to be left out from the life they all dreamed of having, with him being the only one who didn’t get to achieve it alongside them. 

“Well, if it matters at all, you’re doing amazing,” Geumjae tries to cheer his brother up. “I read online that many are calling your team to win it all this year. Imagine being the only person in your school’s history to be a champion player and coach? Not just anyone can say that.”

Yoongi hums, trying to let the thought comfort him. It doesn’t do much; coaching a college basketball team is leagues away from playing professionally. The energy is different, so is the hustle. Shooting hoops with the kids during training isn’t the same. The lights and the cheers as he sits on the bench calling plays isn’t the same either. He can at least say that with coaching, he’s able to shape and mentor the young ones, direct them to better paths, encourage them to reach their dreams, and to not settle for a life they’re not happy with or proud of. He’s got a bunch of players who got drafted last year and dedicated their first professional game to him, and that’s an indescribable feeling he’ll always hold onto. It reminds him that even if it wasn’t him, it was at least someone he cared about. 

He watches as the players do their warmups on court before the start of the game. This isn’t the first time he’s watched live, but it’s the first time with Jungkook and Namjoon as teammates, so seeing them goof around and do the handshake that they used to do warms his heart a little. Maybe it’s this bit of joy that he needs to remind him that it’s okay, that even if life turned out differently for him, at least basketball is still part of his life. There’s more he wants, of course, but this is way better than nothing. He reminds himself at one point, he didn’t think he could ever set foot on a basketball court again.

The game finally starts and though he’s usually quiet whenever he watches games, he can’t help the small small cheer he makes whenever Jungkook or Namjoon scores or makes crucial plays. He still knows their moves, can still read Jungkook’s pump-fake, and can still tell by Namjoon’s stance if he’s gonna make that rare three. Though he was a shooting guard during his glory days, Yoongi still prides himself in his playmaking skills and knowing his teammates well, something that scouts used to rave about. 

Yoongi sips his beer, no doubt enjoying the exciting match. He obviously wants the Thunders to win, but the Pegasus aren’t backing down, not letting themselves trail by more than 8 points. He’s in a bit of a trance, as he lets himself drown in the cheers of the crowd, imagining that it’s him leaving it all out on the court. 

But as he looks up on the big screen during timeout, he feels like the air is being sucked out of him. His ears don’t betray them either, as the announcer calls on your name and Taehyung’s - “celebrity sightings,” he says, while you and your best friend wave to the camera and smile like the superstars that you both are. The cheers get louder and Geumjae joins them until he realizes.

“Shit, that’s your ex-girlfriend,” he whisper-shouts. He laughs at the scene of his brother practically choking on his drink. “Wow, she still has that effect on you, huh?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Yoongi says nonchalantly, desperately forcing his heart to slow its beating. 

“Did you know she’s gonna be here?”

“I don’t keep tabs on her whereabouts, Geumjae,” he replies, suddenly sounding hard, defensive.

“Do you think she’s gonna be at the party?”

Fuck, the party, Yoongi slightly panics. Jungkook talked about the sort of reunion he’s throwing at his house after the game. Their old teammates will be there, as well as some other friends from college who are still in the city. You and Taehyung were honorary members of that group and Yoongi knows that you’re both invited, too.

“I guess,” he merely shrugs, looking like it doesn’t bother him much. 

It shouldn’t. It’s been 6 years, and while he’d been the one to break it off, you’re the one who’s dated a lot since then, something he can’t fault you for. You’d obviously catch a lot of attention - you did catch his - not just for your charm and unbelievable beauty but for your talent as well. He’s not surprised that you’re rumored to be dating Kim Seokjin, said to be this decade’s most desired leading man and who also happens to be your good friend, the one who’d helped you out a lot during your years in university. Yoongi used to be a little jealous then, something he never told you, and well, he guesses it’s meant to be with you and Seokjin now, a man he could probably never live up to. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Geumjae breaks through his thoughts.

“Yeah. Why won’t I be?” Yoongi huffs, sinking back to his seat to watch the game that suddenly isn’t so interesting anymore. 

His question is left unanswered and his brother resumes his cheers, no doubt invested in this match that’s now tied. But Yoongi drifts in and out, his eyes following the players up and down the court then mindlessly landing on you. You’re seated in a relaxed manner, the opposite to how you used to watch his games. He sees you silently cheer for the Thunders, too, and you giggle at Taehyung when you scream louder than you intended, your hand covering your mouth as you lean on your friend and he laughs along. 

He could hear the sound of your laughter from across the gymnasium, as if the way the dulcet tone of your voice used to send shivers down his spine whenever you giggled in his ears was just yesterday. He shakes off the goosebumps he feels and tries to sit comfortably on the chair.

“Are you nervous?” Geumjae asks. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Since when was I ever loud during a basketball game?” He shoots his brother an incredulous look. 

“You may not make a sound but your body does,” the older man points out. “I could feel you buzzing earlier and cheering in that Yoongi way of yours but now,” he eyes him up and down, “your legs are just bouncing. And you're biting your nails again.”

Yoongi catches himself. He forces his leg to be still and tucks his hand under it. It’s a tell he has, and he has no doubt that his brother has caught on. Still, he lies. “The game’s close. I want the Thunders to win.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes, now can we just focus on the game?” Yoongi chides, not wanting to confirm whatever his brother’s suspicions are. 

“Fine, but for the record, I know exactly why you’re nervous.”

“I don’t really care.”

Geumjae sighs as he watches his brother’s gaze go to you once more, unknowingly, perhaps, as Yoongi seems to shake himself off after every time he realizes that his eyes were locked on your direction. But he can’t blame the younger man. You entered his life and he fell, extremely hard, and letting you go was the most difficult thing he ever had to do. Yoongi doesn’t need to tell him though, but there’s enough of his younger brother’s broken pieces lying around for Geumjae to know that it was also something he regretted doing, and he wishes his brother was at least brave enough to admit all that.

The Thunders win by 5 points. It was nail-biting until the very end. It was Namjoon’s crucial offensive rebound and Jungkook’s 3-point shot that sealed the game for them, and Yoongi was present enough to witness those last few plays. He decides to enjoy this moment with his friends, knowing they’d be asking him about it later. If he’ll still go to the party. Somehow, seeing you again made him a little dizzy. It was still on the screen, but now he’s not sure he’ll know what to do when he sees you in person. 

He and his brother let the crowds go before heading out separately. Geumjae’s car is parked elsewhere, and Yoongi decides to head to the washroom and pace his walk to the parking lot. Hands on his pockets and eyes glued to the floor, he hears a gasp, and he releases one himself when he sees you, hiding behind one of the vending machines as a group of fans at the end of the hallways starts walking towards your direction, wondering aloud where you went. 

He sees the panicked look in your eyes and decides to stop the crowd before they come any closer. 

“She headed that way,” he announces, pointing to the right. “There’s an exit there. She probably left already.”

You hear the disappointed sighs, and much as you don’t want to let your fans down - you’re not one to deny them autographs - there have been too many of them this afternoon and you weren’t mentally prepared to accommodate each one of them. The footsteps disappear not long after and you let out a sigh of relief. That was close, but you didn’t expect Yoongi, of all people, to be the one to stir them away.

You turn to him, about to say your thanks, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat. You recall being a giddy mess the very first time you saw him, with nibbled lips and palpitating heart as you watched him shoot baskets and dribble the ball like no one’s business, and you’d been a goner since then. But he was a lot thinner during that time. His hair was cut short and his eyes had this sharp, confident gaze that usually intimidated people. You eventually saw how they softened only for you, though, but you’ll always remember that summer and how he had you wanting him at first glance. 

This man before you isn’t all that different. He still has the same sharp eyes, with his look penetrating right through your soul like he knows you and well, he does, which is also why he was quick to misdirect the crowd after he perhaps saw the look of worry on your face. His tiny nose is the same, so is his pale skin. But his hair is now long, pushed back in the middle as it softly reaches close to his shoulders. He’s a lot leaner; you can easily tell from what’s hiding behind his thin white shirt underneath his blue jacket. You recall him dressing mostly in monotone colors, so seeing him in something a little more striking is new. He’s gorgeous just like before, and you don’t really know why you expected that he wouldn’t render you speechless this time around.

“___,” he calls out. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, uh…” you stutter, hating yourself for suddenly being nervous. “There were just too many of them and they were getting quite close, I kind of panicked. Stupid, really. I should be used to it by now. More of them came and I just…”

“If they were invading your personal space then that’s not right,” he says, his tone so serious you mistake it for worry. “Did they touch you or anything?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that. I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“Where’s Taehyung?” He asks, as you watch him walk to the vending machine where you’re hiding, tap his card, and then get the bottled water that falls out. He opens it and hands it to you as if he’d done this so many times before, and well, he actually has.

“He met up with a couple of friends,” you explain. “The crowd got to me right after and I kinda lost him, but I told him I’ll meet him outside, somewhere near where the players come out.”

“Hmm, okay,” Yoongi hums, looking away. 

He should’ve expected you to look way more beautiful up close but he tends to underestimate his ability to be entranced by you. He’s surprised he even got any word out, but the worry crept in the moment he saw you look a little winded and he just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re a celebrity, after all, and the city’s “Princess,” as they claim. 

You look a little nervous though, and a part of him just wants to scold Taehyung for leaving you behind, seeing as neither of you looked like you had security with you earlier. But that shouldn’t be his responsibility anymore, he reminds himself. 

“Thanks for the water, by the way,” you speak up. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks again,” you smile shyly. “So, uhm, do you know where the other exit is? I’m kind of lost.”

“Oh, uh… the one close to where the players go out is there,” he cocks his head to the left, towards a hallway behind swinging doors. “I can uh, I can show you where.”

“Ah, that would be great. Did you park close there, too?”

No.

“Yeah,” he lies. “Let’s go before more people see you.”

He opens the door and walks after you. It doesn’t help that the hallway suddenly feels much smaller and closed off because now, Yoongi has to listen to your footsteps and nothing else, since neither one of you chooses to talk. 

What does he say to the woman he broke up with 6 years ago? Maybe he can say something about your recently concluded series. He thought it was really good. Is it weird to ask what your next project is? Perhaps. You probably can’t even tell him. How was it like being the leading lady this time? Fuck, he’s not a talk show host or anything like that. 

He sees the end of the hallway before his mind can come up with another stupid question, and he rushes to the door before you do, catching you by surprise. 

“Just wanted to make sure there’s no one to bother you,” he explains, as you exit the building with questioning eyes. 

“Oh, thanks,” you smile shyly again. 

He’s not used to it. He remembers the way your eyes used to gaze at him constantly, how your smile and laughter were all cheeky and flirty, how the tone of your voice was always so confident, so charming. He thinks that maybe like him, you’re just as surprised and unsure about seeing each other after so long. He doesn’t know what to make of things beyond that.

“Do you have someone to pick you up?” he asks, needing to prepare himself if, as a last resort, he’d need to drive you somewhere.

“Yeah, Tae and I were supposed to ride together but,” you pause, checking your phone for your best friend’s text message, “he rode off with his friends and said he’d meet me at Jungkook’s instead so I’m just waiting for the guys. There’s the—”

Party, Yoongi says in his head.

“___!” Jungkook’s loud voice cuts you off. He jogs up to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, unaware of the man in front of you who’s being blocked by a wall. “You ready to go? Tae said he went ahead.”

Yoongi makes his presence known with a low grunt, his eyes pacing from his friend to you. You both look a lot closer than he remembers, and Yoongi’s mind goes to that first time you all met, how Jungkook had announced during their team celebration that the “girl with the yellow scarf on her hair is so pretty” and that he’d wanted to ask you out. Of course, things turned out differently - you weren’t interested in the younger man. But that was years ago. Jungkook has had an impressive professional career and he lives in Seoul. Maybe things have changed for you.

You follow Yoongi’s eyes. Despite many people claiming that he’s difficult to read because of the default unconcerned, almost detached look he has for every situation, you think he’s actually pretty transparent. 

Or maybe that’s just you. You’ve spent enough time with him to know his sound of annoyance and the meaning of his body language. You’ve memorized that pretty face of his at one point that you can tell the slightest parting of his lips and the tiniest drop of his eyes, which could mean that he’s confused, sad, or disappointed. Maybe all.

“Oh, we’re not…” you exclaim, surprising yourself, to the amusement of Namjoon, who suddenly appears next to you. “I mean, Jungkook and I aren’t… a thing.”

You promptly remove the man’s arm from your shoulder and try to decipher Yoongi’s look now. Is it relief? Does he believe you? Does he think it’s silly that you had to clarify that, which you’re wondering why you did?

“Okay,” Yoongi says. 

Perhaps you’re wrong. You can’t tell right now what he’s feeling.

“We just… got to hanging out when I got drafted by the Thunders,” Jungkook now clarifies, which he quickly realizes is maybe making this awkward situation a lot worse. 

You’re Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend after all, and Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you when he moved to Seoul, but not once did he try to pursue you all these years. He respects his captain too much and cares for what you both had, which is why he maintained his friendship with you even after the breakup.  

“That’s nice to know,” Yoongi replies, his tone nonchalant like always.

He’s glad he can keep his cool that well, even if his heart was just about to explode at the thought of you possibly dating his friend. He doesn’t know why he cares, though, as he never really thought much about the so-called code that stated that exes were off-limits to friends. 

He’s just about to turn around when Namjoon calls out. “Min, you’re still going to the party, right?”

Yoongi looks at you, who promptly looks away. Up until 10 minutes ago, he was about 80% sure he would. He didn’t think that being in close proximity to you would make him remember all sorts of things, and that itself is enough for him to run for the hills and avoid you. He won’t claim he did his best to forget about you - he at least tried, and that still counts - but he didn’t expect he’d ever get a chance to be near you, much less talk to you and be in the same place as you. Again. 

But he looks at his friends’ eyes, both pairs unsure yet practically begging him to still go. He remembers these looks, and he swears it’s because he doesn’t want to let both of them down that he battles with the inner part of himself and decides to still go. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with somehow finding out for how long you’re staying, and why you’re here in the first place. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys there,” he replies, turning around now and heading towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot. 

You watch Yoongi walk away, unsure of why your heart is beating as fast as it is. It had been like that since you saw him after hiding from the fans, and even more so when you walked silently in the hallway to head outside. 

You knew you were gonna see him, maybe even at the party, but not in the way you did. And all your confidence at not being bothered or affected with seeing him again melts away. 

You weren’t prepared for how good he’d look, for how concerned he’d be over your safety, and for that hint of disappointment on his face at the thought of you being with Jungkook. Neither were you prepared for that incredibly tiny part of you that wants to know how he’s doing and if he’d managed to piece together the broken parts of himself and his dream that he so adamantly chose over you.

You survive the car ride by glaring at Namjoon every time he starts teasing you about panicking over Yoongi thinking that you were dating Jungkook, while the latter curses as he drives, claiming he survived one of the scariest moments of his life. 

You arrive in Jungkook’s house in half an hour, a nice place he bought for himself because he said that Daegu will always be home for him. The sliding doors to the patio give it a spacious feel, and you see that a couple of his friends had already prepped the space, complete with beer kegs and beer pong tables, the way you remember they always used to party.      

The 3 of you spot Taehyung who greets you, and the 2 men next to you proceed to narrate what happened, to your best friend’s shock and amusement. You also fill all of them in with the first part of the story about Yoongi finding you as you hid away from the crowd.

“How… symbolic,” Namjoon hums. “You meet at a basketball court in Daegu after a game while you were hiding from fans because you’re such a bigtime actress now. I mean, it’s quite ironic. The universe is out to tease you or something.”

You agree, it is. It’s times like this when you wish you didn’t believe in fate and destiny because doing so would just give you false hope that you and Yoongi may be meant for more than just those 2 years together. And you absolutely hate it because you can’t fall into that trap of thinking that you’re meant for a happy ending that includes him. That ship sailed a long time ago - 6 years and about 5 partners later.

But as Yoongi enters the house, his bowed head turning up to search the area before daintily tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, you start to think that maybe that ship decided to turn back around and sail towards you once again. He briefly meets your eyes before someone calls out to him, and you’re left to admire him from afar, cute button nose and impeccable side profile and all. 

Taehyung pulls you by the arm and whispers in your ear. “Okay, so what’s our plan?”

“What do you mean, our plan?” You ask, realizing you’ve lost Yoongi as you glance in the direction of where he was, no longer finding him there. “Plan for what?”

“Yoongi, obviously,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Do we avoid him, be civil, pretend you don’t think about him anymore, or act like the past 8 years didn’t happen and we don’t actually know him?”

“None of the above,” you groan. “What kinds of options are those?”

“Decent ones?”

“Nope. You’ve already had a lot to drink and I don’t trust you when you’re drunk.”

“Except you should. This is when I don’t hold back when it comes to you,” Taehyung answers.

“And you hold back otherwise?” You frown. 

“Just when it’s about him. It was tough for a long time. I know sometimes it still is.”

You don’t have the heart to disagree. This man has been your best friend for a decade and he knows how you are, knows which pains of yours you’re willing to talk about and which ones you’d rather hide away. Your acting skills may be good but you know that Taehyung can see behind all the smiles and the detachment and the effort to look okay, and whatever it is he’s thinking, there’s a good chance he might be right. You’ve just never been brave enough to admit them. 

The look of understanding you both share gets disrupted when cheers erupt in the middle of the living room, seeing that Seungkwan had just beaten Jungkook in beer pong. The pro player demands a rematch and the entire house cheers in agreement. Jungkook takes the next game but Seungkwan won’t back down. 

“Let’s do it in pairs,” he challenges. “I take Joon.”

“Fine,” Jungkook says, his game face on, knowing there’s one other person he knows could win this with him. “I take the Captain.”

Cheers erupt once more as people push Yoongi to the center where the rest of the guys are. He shakes his head, seemingly uninterested in partaking in tonight’s festivities but goes anyway after much coaxing from everyone. He then does his handshake with Jungkook to the younger man’s insistence, and you watch Yoongi’s soft, shy smile appear. 

And just like the very first time you saw that, you feel your heart thrum in excitement. There was always something special about it, and back then it was because he rarely did it, but he did it a lot when he was with you. It’s nice to see it during a moment like this - surrounded by his old friends while having fun with them. You’re glad he shows more of it now, and you wonder how many people fell harder for him because of it. 

You watch from the sideline as the Jungkook-Yoongi pair score 4 straight. Seungkwan complains that Namjoon isn’t making any shots, prompting the older man to claim that he’s way better at dunking than shooting tiny balls like they’re jumpers. They eventually lose after all the theatrics but it’s enough to get the guests going, as you find yourself teasing both men as well. 

You remember their house parties being this rowdy and this loud, given all the energy and testosterone that these athletes had so much of. That obviously hasn’t changed, and despite all of them having grown up, looking all mature and much more respectable, the naughtiness remains, especially once they’ve had too much to drink. 

It’s why you find yourself surrounded by a bunch of the guys, asking for a photo with you to show off to their friends and families. 

“I’m showing this to the guys at the office,” Seungkwan announces as he gets your approval over the selfie picture he took of you both. “They’re not gonna believe I went to college with an actress.”

“Uh, I didn’t go to college with you,” you laugh along with the others. “I studied in Seoul.”

“Then how the fuck do we know you?” He exclaims, no doubt drunk out of his mind at this point. You remember him having a short-term memory every time.

“He’s the Captain’s ex, dumbo!” Soon-young reminds him, another one of the younger guys who hasn’t drank as much but was never good at knowing what not to say. “Remember the summer before his final year? She was with us all the time.”

“Oh right. They were inseparable and looked so in love,” Seungkwan giggles, and at this point, the rest of the people just go with what he’s saying. 

Not you though, neither does Yoongi, and neither does Namjoon, who slaps the back of Seungkwan’s head to loud-whisper that the ex-couple in question is right there.

“Shit, did they hear me?” Seungkwan wonders out loud and looks around before sipping his beer. “I meant it though.”

He laughs drunkenly, so do many others. There’s really only a handful of you who aren’t intoxicated, but right now you wish you were. 

“Wait, they’re both here?” Seungkwan recovers, eyes now glassy. 

He gasps when his gaze turns to you and then Yoongi, and he puts his arm over your shoulder and slightly drags you to the right so he could put his arm over Yoongi, too.

“I found them!” Seungkwan squeals, pushing both of you to face him. “Shit, you still look good together.”

“Alright, dude, that’s enough,” Namjoon finally steps in, pulling the inebriated man away. “Sorry,” he turns to you. “Don’t mind anything he said.”

Too late, you want to say, but you release an awkward laugh instead. 

“They haven’t changed since college, huh,” Yoongi says, surprising you. “They still put us on the spot then leave us to deal with the aftermath,” he continues, watching as the group disperses to go drink and chat again. 

You turn towards him and sigh in relief over the small smile he has on. You swear the tension was so thick earlier that you could cut it with a knife, but Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered. He looks calm like he always does, and just like those first few times, you take your cue from him. You try to release the tension from your body and smile. 

“They should be banned from drinking when there are ex-lovers in the building,” you chuckle. “But I’m pretty sure he’ll be apologizing to you like crazy once he’s sober. Wish I could see that.”

“I can’t wait for that, too,” Yoongi hums. 

A wave of silence envelopes you both. The sounds of your friends seem like white noise now, and with the background music on and the man next to you just sipping his drink, it’s oddly comforting. 

You learned long ago that he has this amazing ability to do that - make people around them feel calm. There’s something so reassuring about him that remarks about your past don’t faze him, and now that’s rubbing off on you, as you feel the awkwardness slowly melt away.

You and Yoongi stand by the couch while the world around you continues. You’d stay in this bubble with him if it wasn’t so familiar, only because the familiarity scares you a little. You don’t want to know if anything else feels the same.

“I’m gonna look for Tae,” you say, breaking the silence. 

You only need to look to your left at the sound of someone hooting to find your best friend downing another cup of some concoction, and by the sound of his laugh, you know this is the one that will do it for him. This is his point of no return. Anything he does after is not meant for many people to see; he has an image to protect, after all.

“Alright, that’s my cue,” you say, walking towards him. 

You cup Taehyung’s face in your hands and tell him that the party’s over and you’ll take him home. He argues, but you remind him that he’s a celebrity and that he can’t have drunk pictures of him circulating online. His inebriated mind sort of gets it, and you take him in your arms and start looking around, trying to see which of the guys are the most stable one to drive.

“How are you going home?”

“Uh…” you turn to face Yoongi. “One of… them? Jungkook, Wooz, Soon-young all offered.”

“And they’ve all had a lot to drink,” he replies.

“Who here hasn’t?” You chuckle, eyes still searching the room. You don’t want to ask your safest option, which is the man in front of you. You’re not quite sure how your heart can handle that. 

“Me,” he says so casually. “I just had one bottle.” 

You know what he means, even more when he goes to Taehyung’s side to help you assist your drunk best friend. Yoongi doesn’t say anything else though; he just stands there while waiting for your reply. This is about safety, you remind yourself, and it has nothing to do with suddenly wanting to be in his presence just a little longer.

“Okay,” you reply, knowing he knows what you mean, too.

“Okay.”

All three of you say goodbye to your friends, all of whom give you smug looks, passing up on the teasing now given Yoongi’s displeased face after someone remarks that “mom and dad are taking care of their kid again.” This isn’t a new scene for them, either. Taehyung just tends to have a lot of genuine fun when he’s with his friends; it’s something you relate with after being in the industry you’re in.

You and Yoongi help Taehyung in the backseat where you sit, with your best friend’s head securely on your lap because he’s now complaining of a migraine. Your designated driver starts the car shortly after he checks on both of you. 

“Neither of you took your cars?” He asks.

“Tae did but passed up on driving tonight,” you say. “I would’ve driven, had I known he won’t be able to control himself. I’m still waiting for my requested rental car.”

Yoongi merely hums and focuses on the road while you… well, while you sort of focus on him. Your position behind the passenger seat allows you a view from the side - from how his fingers drum the steering wheel to how he nibbles his lips. His eyes are focused on the road but you can tell he’s focused on both of you, too, with the way he turns to the back whenever Taehyung makes some garbled sound or just to ask you if you’re okay. 

You watched him do this so many times before with you next to him, holding his hand and kissing his cheek at every stoplight. For someone who loves music, he never put the radio on when he drove you. He said it allowed him to focus on you, and that memory isn’t one that you really want to think of right now, especially since it’s silent in the car. You don’t know which ones you’d rather remember, though - the good ones or the bad. You suppose either would hurt regardless, and this wasn’t something that you prepared for. 

You make it to your best friend’s house as you and Yoongi assist him to the gate to Mrs. Kim’s shock. She scolds a barely-awake Taehyung and apologizes profusely to Yoongi, who says she’s happy to see him in their home once again. As Mr. Kim takes his son up to his room, Yoongi turns to you and asks if you need a ride home.

“I’m sleeping over,” you say in a panic. “Someone’s got to take care of his drunk ass.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, briefly meeting your eyes before nodding towards his car. “I’ll go ahead. It was nice seeing you again, ___.”

They’re simple words that any old friend would tell another after seeing them in years, but somehow they hit you differently. This entire evening hasn’t been a dream or some made up scenario in your head where you meet the man you loved after so long. 

He’s here. With you. Looking at you in a way you’re very unfamiliar with - with a calmness in his eyes and a hint of care and acceptance, as if he’s glad you’re here but that he’s well aware of the years between you, of the years that passed by, of the years that changed you both. 

You don’t respond fast enough because before you know it, he’s turning around, ready to head out the door.

“It was nice seeing you, too, Yoongi,” you say softly. 

But he hears it, stops walking for a while, and then opens the door and walks out. 

You wonder if he’d said something the day you left, would you have stopped and turned around? Or would you have kept walking?  

But thinking about that won’t do you any good, so you turn away as well and head upstairs.

Outside, Yoongi steps on the gas, turns to the next corner, and then stops the car. He clasps his hands together so they’d stop shaking, and he lets himself breathe for the first time tonight. He’s kept his cool long enough, but after everything - the party, the teasing, the car ride - he doesn’t think he can hold the emotions in any longer, and he doesn’t even know what they are. 

Longing? Sadness? Regret? Is it the unspeakable feeling of fear at the thought of you dating one of his friends who might actually be good for you? Is it relief at the idea that letting you go was the best thing that he could’ve ever done for you? Is it confusion over wanting so badly to take you in his arms but not wanting to feel your touch, knowing it would remind him of everything he’s tried to forget? 

Yoongi lays his head on the headrest and takes a breath. You’re so beautiful, as if some light shines on you wherever you go. It’s probably the glow you emit; he’s told you that before but you always said he was just teasing. He sees it even more now. 

But it’s also the crinkle of your eyes when you smile that sweet smile of yours that makes things feel familiar, and because of that, uneasy. It’s that honey sound of your voice; he heard it as you laughed during the party and joked around with everyone. It’s that captivating look you have, the one that says you know something but you want to know more; he felt that look when he entered the house and as he drove you earlier. 

He wonders if you saw past him, past his nonchalance and calm demeanor. You were always so good at that - knowing there was more behind his passiveness, knowing how to get a reaction from him, knowing which buttons to push so he’d open up and let you in. 

He doesn’t know if he should be afraid that you still know how to do it, or if he should revel in it because he’s missed you, more than he could ever say and more than he’d ever care to admit. 

But beyond all that, he’s sure that one of his emotions is happiness. Every time you talked about work and being able to watch yourself on screen - he swears he didn’t eavesdrop but that he just happened to be there - there was that excitement that felt like the continuation from when you used to talk about your big dreams with him. 

You got what you wanted and you worked hard to get to where you are and he knows you’re proud of yourself and that’s all he’s ever wanted. Seeing that smile - he knows. Letting you go was the best thing he’s ever done for you.

“What are you doing here?”

Taehyung’s hoarse voice forces your eyes off the ceiling onto your side where he’s currently hugging his pillow, messy hair and pouty lips on display. 

“Trying to get some rest after I saved your drunk ass last night,” you bitterly respond. “I got to you before any compromising photos or videos were taken. You’re welcome.”

“Hmm, thanks,” he groans. “But uh, why are you here? Didn’t you say you wanted proper rest in your house before seeing your family today?”

“Right, uh… you see. Yoongi drove us here, and then he asked if I wanted a ride home but I kinda panicked and said I’m sleeping over so… Here I am!” You laugh, unconvincingly. “My rental car’s on the way here. I’ll drive to my house and then go to my dad’s.”

“Ugh, you’re so dumb,” he says, sinking into his comforter. You gasp in response. “That was your chance to be alone with him but you didn’t take the offer. We both know you wanted to.”

“Tae, being drunk and not holding anything back doesn’t mean you can just assume things like that,” you respond, sitting up and frowning at him. “I didn’t want to be alone with him, that’s why I’m here!”

“Why didn’t you want to be alone with him?” He answers back.

“Uhm, why would I want to?” You ask incredulously. “Since when was getting in a car alone with an ex ever a good idea?”

“Why? You’re afraid you’d kiss him if you did?”

You scowl at your best friend. “I should’ve left you there drunk with possible penis drawings on your face.”

“Just being honest. It’s not like you’ve never done that with him before,” he shrugs. 

“I hate you.”

“I know. But you’ll love me later on. At least I’m still half asleep.”

You push him awake, the stress heightening now as the previous night plays in your head. 

“Tae! What happened to my hi, goodbye plan?!” You groan. “I was literally just supposed to say hi and then be civil, like, acknowledge his presence but not be affected by it. But then we had some small talk and he drove us home.”

“We all know it was a denial plan,” he huffs. “It was bound to fail.”

“Gee, thanks. You’re being incredibly helpful right now,” you frown again. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, sitting now. “You had small talk, he drove you here. How are those affecting you and why are you making it a big deal?”

“I’m not making it a big deal,” you point out. 

“You kinda are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are because that’s how things started before. And you’re afraid that one small misstep will cause you to fall for him all over again, fast and hard, because that’s how you are when it comes to him.”

“You’re hungover and tired so your judgment is impaired,” you say, crossing your arms. “You remember what happened after all that. I’ll be perpetually grateful that you never pushed me to talk about it unless I was drunk and couldn’t remember things but I was heartbroken, Tae. And then I was numb. It took a while before I started to feel again.”

“I know,” he says, taking you in his arms now as he holds you like a baby - a rare occurrence, as this often happens the other way around. “And I can never fault you for it because even if it was like that summer fling that only happened in the movies, I know you loved him, genuinely and intensely, and a love like that stays with you. But he’s got a good life here, ___, and you’ve got an amazing one in Seoul. You just have to remember why it didn’t work out in the first place and make sure you don’t fall into that trap again. Just… acknowledge that. For your sake. And then do what you need to do so you don’t make the same mistakes again.”

Enveloped in his warmth, you take in your best friend’s words. He may still be hungover and may also be confused but his comfort never seizes, and it’s one of the reasons why you love him dearly. 

“So yeah, good on you I guess for not taking that ride with him. Maybe staying away and keeping your distance might be good,” he adds.

Your silence somehow alarms him, so he nudges you. “It’s a good idea, right?”

“I don’t know. Suddenly I feel like staying away and keeping my distance will let him know that it still affects me. He’ll always know me like that,” you sigh, hugging him tightly for more comfort. “And there’s this part of me that wants to show him that I’m fine, you know?  That even with everything that happened between us, I walked away from it knowing what I deserve, and that’s someone who’ll fight through life with me. He didn’t and that’s on him but he had his reasons, and looking back, maybe he was right. Maybe he had to let me go, and maybe - because I loved him genuinely and intensely - I want to show him that it wasn’t all in vain. And that I’m happy. Even without him.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to him, you know?”

Maybe I want to prove it to myself, you don’t say. There’s a stubbornness in you that doesn’t go away. 

“This isn’t about him, is it?” Taehyung levels his head with you. 

For someone hungover, he still knows you pretty well. 

You just sigh and fall back in his arms. He doesn’t push you. He just hugs you again until you both fall back in bed and he can comfortably curl his body all over you because it’s Taehyung and he likes to do this. 

“Just be careful, alright?” He pleads. 

“You know I also kinda don’t have a choice,” you reply. “It’s a small town and we’re bound to see each other. Jungkook and Namjoon have a game here again in a few weeks and that means another get together.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hum. “Promise me you’ll be by my side whatever happens?”

“Always, you stubborn woman. I’m the one person who’ll never leave you even if you push me away.”

The lunch with your family is how you expect it to go - with your older sisters making some backhanded comments about your fame and how you’ve been “too busy” to even visit, and your father trying to dissolve the tension. He’s at least genuinely curious about how you’ve been, asking if you’re eating well and getting enough rest. Your stepmom raves about your drama series and shares that she cried during the finale.

“Why did he have to go back to his planet?” Garam’s 7-year old asks after your stepmom narrates what happened. 

“His time on earth was up,” you explain. “He finished his mission and he had to leave.”

“But why didn’t he stay if he was happy?” 

“Because he had a responsibility in his home,” you smile. “He wasn’t made for this world.”

“He didn’t have a choice, sweetie,” Garam adds after her daughter comments that it was sad. “That’s understandable. Some people leave because they’re no longer happy with those around them. Or because their dreams are more important than those they supposedly love. Isn’t that sadder?”

“It is. Don’t leave me, Mama,” the little one pouts.

“Oh sweetie, I never will. I don’t leave people that I love,” Garam responds, glancing at you to make a statement. 

You zone out after that, not wanting to engage with your sisters anymore. You play with their kids, though, who get excited when they see you on TV. You don’t want to treat them like you hold a grudge against them even if you do so with their mothers. Your sisters continue to do that with you - resent you when it’s your mom they’re really angry at for leaving your already unhappy family after she got her dream job in Paris. You were never angry though but you did sort of follow in her footsteps, and your sisters hated you even more because of that. 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Your father asks, the hope in his eyes hurting you. 

Things weren’t going well with your parents for a while, giving your mom more reason to leave, but you always wished that he had done more for you to feel loved in the home that started to become toxic after it fell apart, but you suppose he was just trying to heal his own broken heart after his wife left. It felt like your sisters weren’t going to forgive you when you decided to leave yourself, and he just let you walk away without making sure you knew he still loved you despite your decision. 

He’s moved on now, though, and happy with someone who prioritizes him and his needs. But too much time and distance can pull people apart - you can see them without the desire of being with them. That’s the reality with you and him now and there’s not much you can do about it. 

“No, I’ve got other plans,” you respond, glancing at your sisters who return your look with bitterness. “I’ll see you at grandpa’s tomorrow.”

You drive around for half an hour with no destination in mind. It’s nice to see how much this place has changed and discover which parts of it still feel the same. 

You pass by an antique shop - the antique shop,  a generations-old family-run store that used to be the hub of imported furniture that the townspeople once flocked to. It’s now a speciality store that still sells one-of-a-kind items but it also refurbishes old pieces. You see a poster on the window that’s promoting woodworking workshops. You won’t be surprised to find out whose idea that was.

A man briefly exits, and you stop near the front, wanting to just take it in. He’s got more gray hair now and walks a little slower but he looks just like you remembered - soft crinkled eyes, comforting smile, a look that you know all too well. You decide to enter, as you’re desperate for something - anything - that feels more like home than the one you just came from. 

“May I help you?” The man asks.

“A greeting and a hug would do,” you look up at him and smile.

“___?!” He gasps, walking outside the counter to get closer to you. “Is that really you, my dear?”

“Yes it is, Mr. Min,” you smile, returning the hug that you requested. “Just passing by my favorite antique shop in town. How are you doing?”

“Great! Business is stable and I’ve still got a lot of fight in me to continue,” he chuckles. “How about you? The big city treating you good?”

“It is,” you reply. “I think I’m doing quite okay there.”

“Ah, well it should be treating you amazingly. That’s what you deserve.”

You continue the conversation, with you asking about his latest projects and him, talking about his furniture and wood like his children, pride laced in his voice every time. He asks you about your latest series and if you’ve met his favorite actors and you indulge him. His laughter is music to your ears. You remember spending time here where he worked on his pieces while you talked about your favorite movies.

“Does my son know you’re here?” He asks after a beat of silence. 

“He does. I saw him last night. He looks well.”

“He does, doesn’t he? It took a while but he’s doing much better than before - smiling, joking around, helping me at the shop, talking about basketball again. It’s nice to see.”

The words hit you in ways you didn’t expect. Breaking up with Yoongi was tough to get over. Those last few months had been incredibly hard and so many times you thought that maybe if you’d been more patient, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. 

But you remember how during those last days with him, he’d lost the glimmer in his eyes and the softness of his smile. Not even you could bring those back. His passion for things just dwindled; he stopped wanting more, stopped wanting you, stopped thinking that things could still work out for him after what he suffered through. 

You’d kept in touch with Namjoon and Jungkook at their insistence, and they’d been the one to update you on how Yoongi was doing. Not a lot of details but just general things like the jobs he took and that he was keeping himself busy and that he was trying to get back on the court. It wasn’t with unpleasant stories, though - you learned about his new girlfriend from them, and that he didn’t play basketball for awhile, and that during the toughest days, he considered giving it up altogether. 

You knew he’d done well. You learned that from the guys, too. But hearing it from his father is different; you can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for Mr. Min to see his son start to change from what he used to be. But you know that as the good father that he is, he made sure that Yoongi knew he wasn’t alone. 

“And that’s good to hear,” you say. “Yoongi deserves all the happiness this world can give. I’m glad that he’s found his joy in basketball again it seems. And that he found it here.”

“He has, but I guess something will always be missing. He’s a lot better but he’s not the same. A parent would know, you know? The flame doesn’t shine as bright,” Mr. Min answers, the tinge of sadness in his eyes hurting you a little. 

But you just nod. His words seem to mean more but you don’t want to know what it is. 

“Dad, what did you want me to look at?”

Yoongi’s voice echoes in the shop and you can’t help but turn to him who’s just entered and looks as shocked as his father was earlier. 

You have a soft smile on, and Mr. Min knows not to intervene. 

“Oh, nothing,” he says, thinking that the new wood he acquired could wait. “Just watch over the counter for me while I check something inside, alright Son?”

He doesn’t let the younger man answer and just heads to the back, leaving you and Yoongi alone. He walks closer but keeps his distance. It’s enough for you to appreciate the softness of his face, though. His presence had always been reassuring; you see him twice and you’ve felt more comfort with him than you have in months. You don’t know how he does it, but that shouldn’t surprise you anymore. This isn’t the first time anyway. 

“Is Taehyung alright?” He breaks the silence. 

“Recovering, but more from his parents giving him shit for drinking too much,” you chuckle. “He got an earful and Mrs. Kim said she won’t let him in the house next time he gets that drunk. He’s doing chores as punishment.”

“Ah, well it’s been a while. It was nice to spend time with everyone again.”

“It was,” you smile now. 

“And you? Are you okay?” He asks, sincerity laced in his low voice.

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s the hesitant nod and the way your eyes look at anything but him, and he knows that whatever happened after last night is something you want to forget or seek comfort for. So he asks.

“So what made you come here? To the shop, I mean.”

“I was driving around. It didn’t register to me right away that I was in the area,” you respond. “And this place was always so calming for me, you know? The smell of wood, your dad’s stories…” 

You. 

“So I thought I’d come in”, you continue. “He hasn’t changed. It’s nice to see him.”

Yoongi always wondered what parts of you remained the same and which parts didn’t. 

Perhaps the playfulness tempered a bit. You seem a little more anxious than he remembers, too. There’s this sophistication about you that was always too good for this small town, and he sees that even more now. Your smile is still soft but it isn’t as bright. He won’t deny that it still makes his heart race, though. 

You have a habit of going somewhere familiar to seek comfort. You always looked for it in places, he noticed - in that dingy convenience store near your school, in your town’s secondhand bookstore even if you don’t like reading, in the Opera House where you and your mom used to go to. Yoongi learns now that that hasn’t changed at all. You’re in his dad’s store, a place you always wanted to go to after spending time with your family, and he supposes that’s where you came from.

He doesn’t know if he’s still someone you find comfort in and he doesn’t know if you even want to spend time with him after all these years, but he doesn’t have the heart to just let you walk out of here not knowing if you’re truly okay. 

He hated leaving you alone then when things weren’t good. You didn’t always want to talk but you said once that just hearing him breathing on the other end of the phone or just having his hand over yours made you feel better. He may not be the right person now but he’s still someone, and that’s always better than no one.

You eye the door, ready to leave, but his call of your name prompts you to look back at him.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” He asks.

“No, not really,” you reply. 

“Would you like to grab some coffee?”

The words are familiar. You hate that you remember everything about it.

“Just coffee?” You ask, almost teasingly.

He chuckles softly and meets your eyes, and somehow a part of you thinks that you shouldn’t do this. But you’re glad he asked in the first place.

“Yes, ___. Just coffee.”

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx​ @di0rgguk​ @thequeen-kat​ @fan-ati--c  @cravingforhotchocolate​ @adoraminie​ @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes​ @preciouschimine @gukssunshine​ @nch327​ @kookxin​ @petuliii​ @yoursthv​ @libra04​ @fancycollectormoon​ @twixxxpie​ @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g​​ @bids97​​ @minyoongiboongi​​ @main-bangtansmauyeondan​​ @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink​​ @jvngkooker

[be-missed]

Not Strong Enough (Chap 7)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

64.media.tumblr.com

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words.

A/N: thanks for waiting, enjoy.

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5 | Chap 6

______________________________________________________________

Chap 7

"I didn't know you can cook" Jenna said as they both get situated in Y/N's sofa, "Well I need to learn to cook since I can't just eat fast foods all the time" and the both of them laughed, "How did you know my diet though?" Jenna asked, "I asked your mom about your diet and uhm, I noticed at your family's dinner that you only either eat fish or vegetables, so I really planned the meal" Y/N answered and scratched the back of her head.

Jenna was so touched with what Y/N did, because she knows that Y/N will eat everything that is served in front of her since she is adventurous with food and she likes to eat different cuisine, but Y/N followed her diet and cooked foods that will fit to Jenna's taste. That might be a bare minimum for some but it really made Jenna's heart swell.

A moment of comfortable silence was shared, "What?" Y/N asked Jenna who was staring at her intently, "Nothing, I just... I adore you" Jenna said, blush creeping up and coloring her cheeks. Y/N smiled with how red is slowly eating up Jenna's cheek, "You are cute, you know that, right?" and chuckled at how Jenna covers her face.

"Stop saying things to me like that Y/N" Jenna said while trying to compose herself, "What? I can't tell you how I adore you?" Y/N said teasing Jenna, laughing at how the girl is getting red in every teasing word that came out of Y/N's mouth. "You better stop teasing me or I will go home" Jenna challenged Y/N, and that was probably the last thing that Y/N wants Jenna to do.

"Okay, I'll stop" Y/N chuckles and asked "Do you might want to play a game instead?" that question made Jenna's eyebrow to raise with curiosity "Hmm, Okay, what game? But let me just tell you, that I am not good at this" and Y/N pats Jenna's head "Aww, poor baby, don't worry I'll go easy on you" while she winks at Jenna and sets up her Xbox One.

Hours have passed and Jenna was now on her toes since this is the first time she got the lead in NBA. "Fucking hell, suck that 3 points, I knew you were cheating in the first few games" Jenna said, trying to distract Y/N. "What do you mean cheating? I told you I'm good at this and you just can't accept that" Looking at Jenna with her tongue out and scoring a point, getting close to Jenna's score.

Jenna lets out a grumble "See you are now just plainly cheating" while trying to pass the ball to a team mate that is closer to the basket, "No, I just gave you a chance earlier" Y/N chuckles. With a three-point shot coming from Y/N's team, the score was now tied and Jenna paused the game that surprised Y/N.

"Kiss me" Jenna said with a puckered lips and closed eyes, waiting for Y/N, and the other girl just looked at Jenna with questions in her eyes and asked "What do you mean? We are playing" Y/N said and pointed at the TV, Jenna opens her eyes and said, "I'm getting stressed with the game and with you, now I need your kisses" and Y/N chuckled in her mind not wanting to aggravate the other girl.

Y/N puts her controller down and crawls in the sofa trying to get close to Jenna's side. On the other side, Jenna was waiting with her open arms, and just like that, Y/N took it as an invitation and straddles Jenna drops kisses in every inch of Jenna's face avoiding her lips.

"Okay now kiss my lips, please" Jenna looked at Y/N pleadingly while the other girl chuckles and said "I should stress you out more huh?" and landed a kiss on Jenna's lips. The other girl pulls away resting her hand on Y/N's hips and massages Y/N's side.

"Stop staring Jenna" Y/N said while smiling at the other girl, "You are also staring" Jenna said as a rebuttal, "Okay, I feel like you are making me lose my focus on our game" Y/N said with a smirk, "Oh yes, that's what I'm actually doing" Jenna answered with a chuckle and added "How about in every kiss that I give you, you get to let me shoot without a guard?" Jenna suggested wiggling her eyebrows.

Y/N thinks really hard since she doesn't really loose in this game, but of course, it is Jenna, she'll do everything that she aske her. With a nod Y/N agrees and says "Okay, that's a deal" because even if she loses the game, at least she'll get a lot of kisses from Jenna.

With a sound of a buzzer, Jenna wins with a 20 points ahead of Y/N. But how can Y/N disagree and fight with Jenna when all she receives from the other girl are kisses. With a dopey smile, Y/N looks at Jenna who is doing her little dance of victory in the middle of the living room and said "Congratulations, you won the game" and Jenna looks at her and says "Thanks to you, you let me win" while Y/N shakes her head from side to side "Oh no, I didn't let you win, we had a deal and... let's just say that I like kissing you more than winning this game" Y/N said standing up from the sofa and walks towards Jenna.

With open arms, Jenna hugs Y/N and said "Okay, but for real, I like kissing you too" and Y/N asked "More than winning the game?" That made Jenna do a thinking motion, with her hands on her chin and her eyes trying to look for an answer from the ceiling "Hmm, let me think about that."

Y/N with a fake grunt said "Ouch Jenna, don't tell me you like this game than me?" and Jenna laughed at Y/N's antics and answers "You know I'm just kidding, I like kissing you and being with you more than any game that I have played" Jenna said trying to be sweet, while Y/N answered "Okay, to be fair, you really don't play much games so I don't know if I'll find it sweet or you are just teasing me" Y/N ended with a chuckle, trying to tease the other girl.

"Okay I'm trying to woo you here, bear with me" Jenna said while she slapped Y/Ns arm slightly. Silence then took over the room, Y/N started to sway the both of them, no music, just their breathing, and the rhythm of their hearts. Jenna nuzzles her face into Y/N's neck while Y/N rounds her arms into Jenna's waist that pulls them closer together.

"Stay for the night?" Y/N asked Jenna who is still hiding on her neck "I can't" Jenna answered with a sad tone, while Y/N asked again "Why? I'll drive you home before the sun rises" Y/N tries to bargain, "I can't, my stylist is picking me up early tomorrow for a fitting" Jenna said looking at Y/N.

With a sad nod, Y/N agrees with Jenna and kissed her good bye, "Stay safe okay, call me when you get home" Y/N yells as Jenna drives away from her. Knowing that it's only gonna be a thirty minute drive, she is comfortable in Jenna going home safely.

Y/N let go a sigh and nods "Okay, I understand" and gives a smile at Jenna. They let go of each other, Jenna trying to collect her things, while Y/N started Jenna's car so that when she enters it is cold inside and she is ready to go.

Standing outside Jenna's car, "Can you please stay? I'll drive you early tomorrow, earlier than your stylist" Y/N said with a pout, Jenna then cups Y/N's face "I'm sorry, but I really need to be home. How about I go here after the fitting? Sounds good?" Jenna tries to bargain.

Y/N was just watching random YouTube videos from her TV while she waits for Jenna's call. Trying to relieve some nerve, Y/N gets up and walks to the kitchen to get some water. A ring from her phone was heard from the living room and she bolted and answered it, not looking on the caller id.

"Hey, I thought something bad happened, what took you so long?" Y/N said with a glee on her voice, not until its not Jenna's voice that she heard, it was Natalie that said "Y/N come to the hospital."

Without a beat, Y/N dresses up, gets her key and drive to the hospital beating every red light that she encounters. Trying to run and look for Natalie or Jenna inside the Emergency Room is a hard time, seeing that it was full of people who are bleeding, crying, and those that can't even get up because of a bad injury.

"This is not normal for a late night" Y/N thought while walking towards the reception and asking a nurse "Is Jenna Ortega here?" but the nurse was busy to even notice her, gathering all the things that she needs to tend to the patients.

A shout of her name can be called on the other side and she saw Natalie with her whole family sitting on the bleachers, Y/N ran and with a labored breath she asked Natalie "What happened? Where is Jenna?"

______________________________________________________________

A/N: hey thanks for waiting, hope you enjoyed. Again let me remind you that this is FICTION.

Chap 8

[restlesspazzi04]

here are scraps from chapter 6 + explanations on why they were scrapped!

Scene 1

This was a deleted section from the conversation with Paige and Michael:

Michael just nods in response, letting Paige continue. “I think I’m in love with Azzi.” The verbalization shocks both of them as the words slip out of Paige’s mouth. “And I don’t think she loves me back,” Paige slurs out, hugging her knees for comfort. 

“What makes you think that?” Michael asks a little quieter this time. 

“I just don’t think she sees me like that. I can’t really explain it.” 

Michael hums lowly, continuing to listen. 

“I’m not good enough for her,” Paige pauses for a moment before continuing, “And I don’t think I ever will be.” 

“I think you’re being harsh on yourself.” Michael chimes in finally, “You should talk to Azzi about this. I think you would be surprised at what she has to say.”

“And ruin my relationship with my best friend? No way.” Paige scoffs, “Plus, I can’t give Azzi what she wants… or what she deserves. It wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her.” 

“But are you happy with what you are to her? Are you happy seeing her with other people?”

The question made Paige stop and think. Was she happy? When Azzi had told her about the girl she had hooked up with, Paige had gone on a mini-rampage, finding random girls to sleep with every chance she had. She had chalked it up to being in college and an unlimited population of girls who wanted her (which was true still), but she would be lying if she said Azzi hooking up with someone else didn’t influence her choices. It had hurt her more than she anticipated and that hurt terrified her. 

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. I can’t lose her. If I told her right now then we would have to date. And if we dated that means we would break up. And if we broke up, well- well then our friendship would be over and I don’t know if I can handle that.” 

“Why would you have to break up? You’re dooming a relationship before it even starts. What’s the point of that?” 

Paige shakes her head, “I’m not dooming anything, I’m just being realistic.”

“Or you’re projecting your commitment issues.” Michael cuts in quickly, causing Paige to have a mildly offended look on her face. 

“I do not have commitment issues!” Paige exclaims. 

-

Explanation:

I didn't want Paige's first verbalization of loving azzi to be in this chapter (aka want it to be a bigger moment)

I thought the outward mention of her commitment issues was too cliche and scrapped that

just not well written and flowed awkwardly to me idk

Scene 2

This scene jumped from multiple places such as the beginning on the basketball court and the bathroom scene at the party:

“We would get to spend three years playing together, that’s one.” Paige says, counting off her fingers, “We would get to hang out at any time, go to bars together, and just have more freedom. I mean I love Katie and Tim, and my parents are good about letting us sleep over, but let’s be honest we always have to end shit early, and that’s just two. I got like three more.”

Paige takes a step closer to Azzi, in her face now. 

“Three, we would be teammates and you know how well we worked together in Team USA. We are like Curry and Thompson. See? I even used an NBA player you knew. That’s just how well I know you.” Paige says with a shit-eating grin on her face, warranting a tiny shove from the brunette. 

“Four, I want you to meet my friends. I just know you would get along with everyone. Why would I not want the best team for you? And you would love Geno. He’s a tough coach and I know you like that.” Paige just smiles, resting both her arms on Azzi’s shoulders. 

“And five?” Azzi asks a bit quieter when Paige doesn’t respond for a moment, just staring at the younger girl with a flirty smile.

“We could be as loud as we want,” Paige says while maintaining eye contact, only breaking it once to glance down at Azzi’s lips. 

“Oh yeah? Is that why you want me to come? I didn’t realize my Mom telling us to quiet down while playing Fortnite was so annoying. I’ll ask her to back off.” Azzi says while feigning innocence, not wanting to play whatever game Paige was playing.

“Yeah, it gets really annoying when our hangouts get interrupted. I mean we’re just two girls tryna have fun, what crime are we committing by laughing too hard?” Paige says, playing along with Azzi. 

“I guess I just have to come so we can laugh into the night together,” Azzi says while leaning in for a kiss. 

Explanation:

it lowkey killed me to take this out because i liked the way i wrote it but i just didn't have a use for it

kinda forward and i wanted paige's reasons for wanting azzi to come to uconn to be less superficial? if that makes sense

her actual list will be revealed later in the fic

Scene 3

This was the original ending to the fic, i just didn't like it that much:

“Do you remember that party we went to before you committed when I asked you to narrow down to two schools?”

Azzi looks at her, confused, “What does that have to do anything?” “Just trust me. Do you remember that night?” Paige says, still unsure of where she is going herself. 

“Yes, you were being an asshole… what does that have to do with anything?” 

“I made of list of every single reason I wanted you to come to UCONN, but I never told you because I was too scared to tell you how I felt.” 

Azzi looks back curiously now, wanting to know more.

“And I thought about sending you that list every single day leading up to your commitment because it was driving me insane"  

“But I realize now, that I can’t do this anymore with you. I can’t sit and hold back every single time we talk about something serious because it’s been years of this back-and-forth and it’s driving me insane.” Paige pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’m not going to tell you what to do because that’s up to you to decide. But if you're genuinely asking me if I think you should get married to Ben, I'm going to say no."

Explanation:

I initially wrote this with the intention of this being the moment Paige tells Azzi she shouldn't get married, but it felt way to premature and i just didn't like the level of impact it would've had to the plot

I didn't like most of the wording

too much blatant flashbacking, felt unnatural

this is a slow burn and this would simply be too much progression when it hasn't even been a full 24 hours of them being resolved friends again (aka wtf was i thinking)

And that is the totality of the deleted scenes i will be sharing thank you for reading :)

also if you've made it to the end, i have a one shot coming out soon on tumblr so watch out for that !

[yujinslovr]

pookie im so obsessed with lakers kkura,, i can't stop thinking abt being the trophy gf of basket player sakura 😔😔

– 🐇

NO IM A WARRIORS FAN BUT IM OBSESSED W LAKERS KKURA TOOOO.

omg but omg her showing you off at every game, making it clear that she has such an insanely hot gf🤭🤭🤭 OMG WAIT EXIBITIONISM W KKURA???

she js wants to show you off to everyone :(( forcing you onto your knees in the locker rooms during half time…. she obviously knows that literally any one of her teammates could walk in at any moment, but in her eyes that’d be best case scenario🤭

“we literally have less than 15 minutes, can’t we js do this after the game?”

omg she’d def say sum shit like “i wont be able to focus for the rest of the game if you don’t🙁” GRRR GUILT TRIPPING TO THE MAXXXX IDCCCCC

you wouldn’t want to be the reason she looses this game, so ofc you js had to help her out…

no but omg what if like mid blowjob someone does walk in, seeing you on your knees w kkura all the way in your throat… omg she def wldnt stop, your hands on her hips trying to push her off but obvi she’s stronger, she’s literally a nba player.

omgomg and if it’s yunjin who walked in???? HOLYYYYY IM LOOSING MY MINDDD😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 no and then now yunjin also has an uncomfortable tent in her pants and she js can’t play like that :((( so obvi you do what any good person wld, you pull down her shorts and start stroking her shaft while your mouth is still working kkura.

no and then the coach comes in screaming for them to come out bcz the games abt to start and he js sees you on your knees covered in cum while yunjin and kkura are tucking themselves back into their shorts🫠🫠🫠

them both leaving you alone there covered in their cum to go back out and win, AND BEST BELIVE THEY PLAYED BETTER THAN THEY EVER HAD BEFORE‼️‼️

[tonyspank]

EPILOGUE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: fluffy

Words: 2.0k

A/N: I was like awww writing this chapter

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"There have been speculations that Y/N didn't deserve her spot in the NBA...but now with eight seconds left on the clock of the game, she led her team to a championship in her first season ever. She silenced all the critics and proved that she belonged in the league.

—Her leadership and determination were undeniable and she earned her spot as one of the best players in the game, so young and so early on. She is now one of the most inspiring figures in the sport and a role model for many young players, dreaming of making it to the big leagues. She has set a high standard for future generations, showing that dedication and hard work can make even the wildest dreams come true."

You bend down, your emotions overwhelm you. In three seconds your team has officially won the 2022-2023 NBA Championship. You raise your arms to the sky as tears of joy roll down your cheeks.

You look around to find your teammates, and they are all in the same state of pure elation. They rush over to you, hugging and celebrating. You take a moment to soak it all in, and you can't help but smile. The dream has become a reality.

You look up at the crowd, thousands of cheering fans, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. You can't help but think about how far you have come, and the journey you have taken to get here. You realize that all of your hard work has paid off.

The team manager places a hat on your head, smiling as she congratulates you. You take a deep breath giving LaMelo Ball a tight hug. You two being one of the best duos to take the court in a while. You close your eyes, feeling the moment, knowing that no matter what happens, you will always have each other's back.

You break away from the hug and look around the room, your teammates cheering and celebrating your success. You laugh, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"Y/N!" Your head turns at the sound of your name, and you're met with a few cameras pointed your way. You smile and share a look with your manager before walking over to the cameras. Lisa, an interviewer, shakes your hand and introduces herself.

You take a few moments to compose yourself, and then you start to answer her questions. "Y/N, we feel the emotion. Where is it all coming from? How do you feel after leading your team to the championship?"

You adjust your hat, letting out a breath. "I'm honored and proud. It's been a long journey, full of hard work and dedication. I'm thankful to everyone who has been a part of it. Never would I have thought I'd be the first woman to ever play in the NBA, nor even be in the finals in my first season.

—It's just so unreal and I just can't be more grateful for the opportunity I've been given. But at the same time, I know I'm here for a bigger purpose. Representing women everywhere, showing them that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. I'm ready to make history and show the world that no dream is too big."

Lisa nods at your words, moving the microphone back to her to ask another question. "Did you feel a lot of pressure on yourself being the first woman in the NBA? If so, did you use that to your advantage and how did you?"

You glance around before answering. "I didn't feel pressure because I knew I was capable. In fact, I embraced it and used it to fuel my drive to succeed. I never let the fact that I was a woman stop me from aiming for the highest achievements."

A crowd begins forming around you which includes your teammates, coaches, managers, and family members. You spot Eli in the crowd and he brings you into a tight hug, and whispers in your ear, "You did it! Congratulations!" He holds you tightly for a few seconds, and then pulls away, patting your chest. You nod at his words, smiling at your best friend.

"You almost got us in the conference finals." Eli gave you a mischievous smile and winked. "Next year, we'll get our get back on you and LaMelo." He laughs. You grin and playfully punch his shoulder. "You think you can handle us?" you asked. "Bring it on," he replied confidently.

Your eyes then meet the ones you've been looking for this entire night. Jenna blows you a kiss as she walks toward you. You dramatically drop your jaw, holding a hand over your heart.

Eli laughs at your reaction. You laugh, eyes still fixed on Jenna. She slowly moves closer, her arms outstretched. You lift her up, spinning her around in a circle. You both laugh, and Eli makes his way over to your parents. Jenna presses her lips to yours, and you swear you can feel sparks between you.

You reluctantly pull away, a giddy smile on your face. You look around, and you can tell your parents and Eli are all sharing the same joy. You have found something special in Jenna, and it feels like it is something that will never fade away. Your parents begin walking to you, holding someone out for you to take.

You smile at your son, who looks as lost as ever and taking him from your parent's grasp. He looks up at you, his eyes brown doe eyes wide. You rock him a bit, smiling at him before you glance at your parents. They smile back at you, proud of who you've become and how much you've accomplished.

Even though you having a child was a complete shocker and scared the living hell out of them, they couldn't be more proud of the parent you have become. They're happy that the two people they care about so much have found peace in each other, and that you have created a beautiful family.

They are confident that you will be able to provide and care for your child with unconditional love. They are relieved and happy that you have found each other and are creating a loving home.

Jenna smiles at you and Kian, taking in the sight of her family. You smile back, feeling a wave of relief and joy. You hug your child tightly, grateful for the opportunity to be a parent. You know that together, you will all be okay.

Jenna laughs at Kian, "He's like what's going on right now? He's so lost." You laugh with her, wiping a bit of drool off his lips. "I know right." Kian looks up at you both with a wide, toothless grin.

You and Jenna both awe at the sight, the innocence of his smile warming your hearts. Jenna leans in and gives him a kiss on the forehead. "He's so cute," she says. Eli speaks up. "I've smiled at you before Jenna and I never got a kiss on the forehead."

Jenna giggles and looks up at Eli with a twinkle in her eye. "That's because you're not as cute as Kian," she says, laughing a bit. Eli just rolls his eyes and then laughs along with the rest of them before taking Kian from you. Eli lowers his voice, whispering into Kian's ear. "If you weren't so cute, I'd fight you about it."

Kian grins and wraps his chubby arms around Eli's neck. Jenna and everyone else laughs as Eli kisses Kian's chubby cheeks. "You're the cutest, Kian," he says, laughing.

Your parents then come over and congratulate you, pulling you into tight hugs as happy tears fall down their faces. It was more than obvious that they felt like they had accomplished something extraordinary. They were so proud of you for all your hard work and dedication. They had seen you grow and mature and were relieved to see you reach your goals.

"We're so proud of you honey." You smiled, clearly overcome with emotion. You couldn't believe that your hard work had finally paid off. You thanked your parents for their unwavering support and encouragement throughout your journey.

Your dad shrugs you off, giving you a warm smile. "It's all you, kid." He pats your shoulder and you can't help but beam with pride. You knew that your parents were always there for you, and you are so grateful for their love and support.

Now back at home with Jenna, Kian, and Eli, you sit in the living room with a bowl of ice cream on your lap. You take a spoonful of the ice cream before sending a glare at Eli, "Please shut the heck up." He smiles, "Look at you! Being a good mom and not cursing in front of your son."

You shook your head and smiled. Kian just continued to crawl on the large black carpet that covered the marble flooring in your living room, oblivious to the bickering between his mom and his uncle.

Jenna walks into the living room, smiling. "Why don't you bother Olivia and not me?" Eli rolls his eyes, leaning back against the couch. "She's on tour! I miss my girlfriend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You know she's coming back soon." Eli sighs, closing his eyes. "I know. I'm just impatient." Kian looks up, clapping his hands and squealing with laughter.

"Kian!" Kian's head turns at the sound of Jenna's voice, his face lighting up. Jenna kneels down on the carpet and opens her arms to Kian. "He's so whipped man." You mumble, Eli nods in agreement, "I would be too."

You send another glare at Eli before throwing a pillow at his face. Kian lifts himself with help from the leather couch in front of him, taking his first-ever step. Eli ducks the pillow and laughs, while Kian continues to walk to his mom. You sit up in your seat, a huge smile on your face.

Jenna's face matches yours, encouraging Kian to keep walking. "C'mon, baby, come." Kian's movements are still unsteady, but he manages to make it to his mom's.

Jenna gives you a look as her eyes begin to water, and you feel your heart swell with pride. You look at Eli and he smiles, his eyes twinkling with joy. "Oh, my flip-flop," Eli mutters, shocked as he just watched his nephew take his first steps.

Jenna bursts into tears of joy and pulls Kian in for a tight hug. Kian wraps his arms around his mother, his little face filled with joy. You stand up from the couch, walk over to Jenna and Kian, and wrap your arms around the both of them, Eli joins in, jumping up and down in joy.

"He walked! He walked!" Eli says, still jumping up and down. He soon stops, smiling at Kian. "Hi, five!" Kian reaches out his hand, and Eli eagerly gives him a high five. They both laugh, and Eli pats Kai on the back. "You did great!" he says, taking him from Jenna's arms.

"I think he just stole our son," you mutter to Jenna. Kian giggles as Eli carries him around the room. Jenna smiles and takes your hand in hers. "He's in good hands," she says, and you both laugh.

She then takes your hand, leading you into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. "How does it feel being the first woman in the NBA and leading your team to a championship?"

You pause and take a deep breath, looking at Jenna before responding. "It feels amazing," you say, squeezing her hand. "I'm so proud of what I've accomplished, and I'm so lucky to have you and Kian here with me."

Jenna looks lovingly at you and says, "We're all so proud of you. You've worked hard and it's paid off." She gives your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, a warm smile on her face. You smile back at her, bringing her into a kiss.

You hold each other close and savor the moment. You feel a wave of gratitude and love for Jenna, "I love how you get me." You mumble against her head, swaying her back in forth.

She looks deep into your eyes and holds your face in her hands, "I love you too, my love." You kiss one last time and pull away, feeling an indescribable peace.

taglist - @alexkolax @raven-ss @godsfavouritelesbiann @jennasslut @niqmandu @amburntfreeman @returnnofdamac @starry-night17 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @morganismspam23 @tai-hdg @crazyoffher2

[holyblonded]

KENZA CREOXELLS

Kenza Esperança Creoxells (born August 13, 2003) is an American soccer player who plays for the Yale Bulldogs as well as the United States women's national soccer team. When she was younger she played for the Barcelona Femení youth team. She's currently plays for as a forward for the Liga F club Barcelona since she was 14 and 291 days old. She is the most recent winner of the Golden Girl Award and the Kopa Feminin Award.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘇𝗮 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀

Full Name: Kenza Esperança St. Clair i Creoxells

Date of Birth: August 13, 2003 (age 20)

Place of Birth: Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain 

Height: 5'8"

Education: The Benjamin Franklin International School (graduated)

Yale University (currently)

Postion(s):           Forward

Current Team: No.3 - Barcelona

No.3 - Yale Bulldogs

International Team: United States

Awards: Full List

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Kenza Esperança Creoxells, known in the soccer world as "Golden Girl" or "The King" alternately "King Kenza", was born August 13, 2004 to Akoni St. Clair and Nor Creoxells in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain. Her father is a retired NBA player who is known for his phenomenal rebounding skills. She two younger siblings, Khai and Kyro that don't have many current media appearances.

Creoxells has been playing soccer since she was merely two years old, but even back then she had a talent for it. Her talent was first seen by her father who encouraged her to keep playing and be "the best soccer player you can be." Creoxells’ parent divorced when she was merely 5 years old. She spends the school year with her mom in DC and her school breaks she spend it with her dad either in his usual residence in Minnesota.

When she was in Washington DC, she befriended Azzi Fudd. In Minnesota, she made many friends like Paige Bueckers and Jalen Suggs who both attended her father's basketball camps. In Barcelona, she befriended Leonkinda, a Greek aristocrat, as well as Pedri and Gavi, both fellow La Masia graduate.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

Her mother is Spanish supermodel, Nor Creoxells. She is very close to her mother and as a child, Creoxells was always spotted at the runway shows supporting her mom. Her mom speaks to her children strictly in Spanish and Catalan when they were growing up making that Creoxells first language. When Creoxells was ten, her mother got remarried to American basketball legend, Diana Taurasi.

Diana Taurasi came into Creoxells’ life when she was seven years old, and the two have been quite close. Creoxells has been pictured many times throughout her life at a basketball game and Taurasi has been photographed arguing with little league refs. The most iconic moment was at the 2012 London Olympics, when Taurasi gave her gold medal to nine year old Kenza, hard launching her relationship to Nor Creoxells. St. Clair has said, "she [Taurasi] has been an important figure in my life and to my career. She truly stepped up into a parent role like it was nothing. I owe everything to her."

NBA Legend, Akoni St. Clair is her father and at a  young age, Creoxells said he 100% encouraged her soccer career. Creoxells credits her dad with her success in soccer even though the two aren't that close. In fact, after her parents divorced, Creoxells didn't see her dad for two years due to his excessive partying. When Creoxells was 14, Akoni relinquished his parental rights for reasons unknown to the media. Since then, Kenza either has Creoxells or occasionally Taurasi on her jersey.

The five year old twin boys, Khai and Kyro, are often kept out of the spotlight, but Creoxells does seem to adore them. The twins were born through IVF that Nor carried. Anytime the two are brought up on an interview, there's a burst of excitement.

Creoxells has had numerous brief flings with fellow La Masia alum, Alejandro Balde. The two were spotted on the streets of Barcelona kissing  various times throughout their teen years. Though there is no confirmation of the relationship, the two seem to be great friends now. Giovanna Ramos is Creoxells’ recent fling as the two were pictured kissing outside of a club.  Although neither parties have confirmed nor denied the rumors.

Creoxells’ reoccurring relationship rumor is with Paige Bueckers. The two have known each other since childhood and are often seen around UConn and Yale campuses together. While both deny the rumors, witnesses say they often flirt with each other in public.

CAREER

When Creoxells was about 8 years old, she earned the opportunity to train at La Masia. After Creoxells and her father begged her mother, she was allowed to go and stayed with her mom's childhood friend, Alexia Putellas. Putellas quickly became another mother to her , watching her grow up and eventually join her on the pitch. Creoxells said, "La Masia taught me major discipline and how truly gifted I was at the sport (soccer). It also gave me the opportunity to build my skill set and knowledge in football. It also gave me the opportunity to build these relationships at Barca, I don't know what I would be doing without my team."

Creoxells has a very interesting style on playing. She has a keen eye and is able to spot spaces and gaps to squeeze herself through. Her elite ball control, speed, ambidexterity, and spatial awareness make her a dangerous player to go against. The way Creoxells even envisions a field is different from most players and seems to give her some sort of upper hand. In her entire carrer, Creoxells has never missed a penalty kick.

At 14 years old, Creoxells was offered a spot on the Barca Femení professional team. She accepted and played there ever since. Her debut game she scored a goal and a hatrick against Chelsea FC, but what made her memorable was her constant confused looks when she scored. At Barca, she earned the nickname, Bebita and Princesa, from her teammates. This nickname is not only due to her age but her naps that she took during any sort of break. Creoxells even got caught napping during halftime at a game, curled up next to Ingrid Engen and Mapi Leon. The second nickname was earned because of her judgmental glances during games and her lack of a poker face. For the Barcelona fans, they give her the nickname "Chica Dorada" aka Golden Girl. Her other nicknames like King Kenza came later on. Her newest nickname and a fan favorite is "La Artillero" meaning the gunner, poking fun at Arsenal who tried to take the prodigy many times but failed. The nickname also refers to her precision kicks into the goal.

After about two years of Creoxells playing on Barca and attending university, her grades slipped making Barca's manager Jonatan, decided to put St. Clair's spot on Barca is currently "on hold" as she furthers her education in college. Creoxells plans on graduating early so she can go back to play.

She currently plays for the USWNT but after they refused to raise her pay, Creoxells is in the process of switching teams. The USSF claim they are currently in negotiations with Creoxells’ management to dispute the situation. Not so long ago, the USSF faced a lawsuit against the women's team for equal pay. Creoxells made a statement saying, "They [USSF] are paying me less than what they said on a contract. It would take some serious groveling for me to stay on the team." She is currently eligible for the English (her mother) and Spanish (her mother) National Teams. As well as t

𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒

2x First-Team All-American

Gatorade Player of the Year (2022)

Hermann Trophy (2023)

Rookie of the Year (2021)

U.S Soccer Young Female Player of the Year Award (2022)

Golden Girl Award (2021, 2022, 2023)

2x NCAA Tournament College Cup

Primera División: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

Copa de la Reina: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League Player of the Year (2022-23)

Kopa Féminin Award (2023)

[kisumitenderly]

--------------💕 This was the pinnacle for Kisumi.

Everything he had been working for was leading to this moment. The sweat and tears seemed like fond memories now that he was heading to the Olympics to represent his home country. Prior to qualifying for the Japanese team, Kisumi had been living aboard. In the United States he was playing in the NBA. Not a starter just yet but maybe in a handful of years or less he would be.

Currently he had returned home once more before heading to France to compete.

This moment was made even more sweet knowing that he wasn’t heading there alone. Some of his childhood friends were also going to be competing on the world stage in their own sports. Swimming to be exact. Kisumi chuckled to himself on the beautiful irony that his most hopefully romantic friend was going to be competing his dreams in the most romantic city in the world. He must be losing his mind.

“Rin, are you packed yet?” Kisumi appeared around the corner of the door frame. Usually he would call or even text ahead of making an appearance but he had a feeling Rin was far too lost in his own thoughts to be very present in the moment. Besides, Kisumi was always a fan of surprises. It was easy enough to convince Gou to let him slide in. They probably spoke more often than Rin did. It had always been that way, especially when Rin went abroad.

He was never the best communicator.

"I figured I would drop by since I'm always prepared, you could use the help, hmmm?" A cheeky grin spread on Kisumi's face whether he was welcomed or not.

He was here to stay awhile.

@swimmingforthegold

[hasanthehung]

The Meeting

It was late.

My eyes strained at the computer screen after the word-count completed. 70,000 words. "Only 50,000 more to go" I sighed. I removed my glasses, stretched my now permanently arched back and raised my hands above my head, letting them fall limp by my side, before standing up for the first time in hours.

I was in my final years of a Political Science PHD at Princeton. It was tough going - you just had to take a glance at my tiny apartment, the curtains constantly drawn to limit the presence of the outside world, the stacks of books and piles of paper strewn on any available surface and the boxes of take-out tentatively placed in the kitchen sink to guess.

Writing this damned thesis was just the tip of the iceberg. As a PHD candidate I had lectures to give, as well as being an advisor to 3 undergrads who were more interested in extra-curriculars than in anything the oppressed PHD students could offer them. I couldn't blame them -Christ, I had BEEN them just a few years ago. Those long-gone days of waking up with a constant hangover, arriving late to lectures and usually sleeping through them had been the key to the student bodies morale, after all.

I checked my phone. 4:35 AM. Shit.

I had a meeting at 9 AM with a new undergrad I would be advising, but wasn't too bothered about it. Knowing how these advisory sessions usually went, this student would turn up late and only because they had to, with nothing prepared and probably concealing a hangover.

I needed to sleep. Like, now.

The phone buzzed. 8:45 AM. Shit.

I leapt out of bed, quickly showered and dressed in my usual fit; an oversized black hoodie, baggy jeans and baseball cap - The hood pulled up over the cap to hide my identity from the faculty or any other passers by that would - for the billionth time - ask with the best of intentions, "How's the PHD going?"- That dreaded question again.

I jumped on my bike and landed outside the PolSci building late. I ran up the steps, through the corridor and swung the door open to find, with true astonishment, the student actually sitting patiently at my desk, his head bent, scrolling on his phone.

"Hi, sorry I'm late"

"Oh hey, uh," He stood up and turned towards me, quickly parking his phone in his back pocket.

"No problem, uh, I'm Hasan, nice to meet you"

I was immediately worried.

Why? Because this guy was so freakin hot. He was tall enough to play for the NBA, broad enough to play for the NFA and the way he played with his short dark hair nervously as he waited for my response was adorable.

I didn't need any more distraction in my life. I had 2 years to finish this PHD, for Christs' sake.

It took a moment for me to come to my senses. I pulled my rucksack from my shoulder and approached him, offering my hand.

Those eyes.

"Intense" was the word I'd landed on. Dark and brooding.

And on closer inspection, he was much older than the usual undergrads were- He looked like he was my age- in his 30's, at least.

"Hey Hasan, I'm your advisor. I haven't seen you around, you've just arrived at Princeton?"

"Uh, yea uhm...I've got a degree in Political Science and was hoping to do a PHD here, I was told you could help me get the lay of the land?"

"Oh, of course!"

I obviously hadn't prepped for this meeting at all, as I never do- the students usually don't give a crap.

Much later on, I'd check my emails to realise this meeting was supposed to be an overview of the PolSci faculty, a de-briefing of what to expect as a candidate, and that this potential student was one of the top political commentators in the U.S.

This was all news to me. Especially the part were the man standing in front of me was famous and a major player in shaping the minds of millions politically.

PHD students are known to be "out of the loop" in general. We're too busy to keep up with the culture. But man, did it ever make sense.

This guy was made for the worlds eyes to look at him, and as he continued to speak, with his precise and deliberate choice of words, not to mention his deep beautiful voice, was made for millions to listen to.

Realising that this wasn't the usual boring check-in with an undergrad, I began;

"Well, in that case, lets get out of here. I'll take you on a tour of the campus and I know a great place for coffee that's empty around now, and to be honest, I need one. That cool?"

"Uh..totally, thanks"

After playing tour guide for less that 15 minutes, it became clear that this wasn't the usual prospective PHD student. Every undergrad that passed by took a double take, their eyes widening in disbelief and I could hear them whisper his name to eachother;

"Hasan! it's HasanAbi!"

"No, it not!"

"Dude, it freaking IS Hasan!!"

Hasan noticed this, too. He pulled a cap out of his back pocket and fished a pair of sunglasses out of his boldly coloured shirt pocket, pulling the collar up over his chiselled jaw and bending his head low. Not that it helped much - he towered above everyone in the vicinity.

"Wow, people seem to know you. Are you famous or something?" I asked.

"You could say that, I guess. In certain circles."

He shifted his feet uncomfortably and spent a little too long fixing the position of his cap over his dark locks. I knew not to press further. He obviously didn't want to get into the details just then.

"... Do you want to get out of here?"

"That would be great, thank you"

"Well there's my place, It's just up ahead, if you don't mind the mess? You'll get an honest idea of what your life will look like if you choose to take on a PHD, at least."

He smiled and lifted his head a little, relaxing. "I spend a lot of my time inside as it is, it'll feel just like home" He said.

We arrived at the run-down apartment block and as I fumbled with my keys, I could feel him standing behind me, waiting for some privacy. There was a heat... An electricity that seemed to buzz between him and I...Or was I just imagining it?

He switched position to lean his broad shoulders against the wall beside me as he waited, he seemed to be checking me out, cocking his head to the side and tipping his sunglasses down a little, watching me with a smirk on his face.

"Here, let me take your bag for you" He offered.

He moved closer to me, gently touching my arm as he took the strap of my rucksack and swung it effortlessly over his shoulder.

Was it me, or did his large warm hand linger a little too long on my body? I could feel my arm tingle as if my body knew before I did that something magical was happening.

He didn't move away. He stood behind me again, one hand holding the strap of the rucksack on his shoulder, the other hand reaching over my shoulder and landing on the wall in front of me, supporting himself. His breath touched the back of my neck, making me shiver. I imagined in that moment him enveloping me between those strong shoulders, feeling his breath all over my body.

The door opened and we entered. I was trembling. Trembling because of what had just happened, and also in anticipation of what could happen.

Now it was my turn to feel nervous. I didn't know who this guy was, but he was obviously famous, he probably owned some giant mansion somewhere in a tax haven, and now he had to sit in my little shitty studio apartment.

I mumbled something like "eh..just move those papers and take a seat, drop them anywhere."

The apartment was dark - as usual I had neglected to open the curtains. I quickly turned on the two lamps I possessed, then moved to the window and began to open them, suddenly his hand landed on top of mine and he said "I prefer it dark."

I couldn't speak, let alone turn around. His hand lingered on mine, then slowly moved downwards to my wrist. He grasped my wrist and swung me around to face him. Our eyes locked. Those intense, dark, brooding eyes. He smiled, then let my wrist go and bent his head, stepping away, embarrassed.

He began to move around my apartment, taking it in in the dim light cast by the lamps. He took off his cap and tousled his hair, his gaze landing on the many political posters I had precariously plastered on every available wall - all of my heroes were represented - Chomsky, Finkelstein, Reich, along with my favourite slogans "Tax the Rich" and "Capitalism is Voluntary".

He laughed.

"Your a Socialist?"

I didn't know how to take this. He was obviously famous, so obviously rich. If he was a political scientist, his views probably landed more to the right, I assumed. Most likely a talking head on Fox News and a Trumpian, at that.

"So what if I am?" I affronted.

All at once, his demeanor changed. He looked at me from across the room, a desire in his dark eyes that startled me. He began to peruse the many piles of books that scattered the floor of the apartment. He picked one up then sat down on the couch, thumbing through the heavily ear-marked and highlighted pages.

"Michael Albert is a hero of mine..." He was holding Parecon, my most cherished text.

I didn't think I could be more surprised by this man.

"You've read it? It's not on any degree-level reading list I know of..."

He lifted his arm and rested it on the back of the couch, tilted his head to the side, biting his lower lip. He moved his eyes from mine, to my mouth, to the curves and edges of my body, and didn't say a word.

I had never felt more vulnerable in my life.

He looked shy all of a sudden. He let my copy of Parecon fall to the seat, stood up and moved towards me.

"I...I'm a socialist too." He whispered. His voice had such an effect on me. It lulled me into a state of total desire.

He stood in front of me, his eyes filled with dark passion, but seemed unsure of himself.

"I...I'm a little..." He muddled, but never finished. His shoulders slumped, he looked away for a moment, his head lowered, defeated. Then, in a moment of hope, perhaps, looked into my eyes again, through the mass of black hair that had fallen over them.

I moved closer to him. The heat wasn't imagined.

His breath grew heavy. He pulled me into his arms, he bent his head and devoured by neck, ripping open my hoodie. I felt his hands moving down my back, edging me closer to him. I folded my arms around his neck after working my hands through his dark locks, our mouths saying everything we couldn't.

It happened right there on the floor, in between the piles of books in the dim lamp light, with Chomsky, Finkelstein and Reich watching over us.

Later, when he had left, I opened my laptop. I typed his name gingerly into the search engine. Maybe he made it all up to get an easy lay. Maybe he was another centrist cog in the machine. Who reads Parecon these days, anyway?

Maybe he had been lying.

He hadn't.