#mlb!svt

[wyngigi]

wait what is happening w tori n mingi …. pls 😥

lets all cheers to homerun completion my first plumverse story muahahahah i love it w all my heart

in love w ur writing as always i love this ending so much even if im sad to see it go 💟

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

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

wc; {part seven} 3.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers could be heard down every street in Iloa, the Lions stadium alive, living, breathing, exploding full of love and support, every voice showering down onto the field of ten or so men stretching, throwing around baseballs, or sprinting across the grass.

In the bullpen, the smack of DK’s hundred mile per hour baseball hitting the leather of Woozi’s glove echoed against the walls and carried up to the kids in their matching jerseys dangling their heads over the railings to watch them, calling down for them to throw a baseball up into the stands. Standing on the sidelines, coaches, other starting and backup pitchers, they’d grab whichever ball DK discarded and tossed it up to the boys and girls, watching their faces light up with joy.

A sweet smell lingered in the air, one mixing with that of the savoriness of the comfort foods the boys on the team indulged in after a victory, one they hoped would happen today. Pretzels, soft chewy cinnamon bites, ice cream stands around every turn, every corner of the stadium. Women and men wandered about with bright red shirts on, carrying bins of ice cold drinks, beers, and water bottles, their voices booming through and over the crowds eager to get their buzz on. Fans waiting in line at the stores, full of Lions merchandise, were calling them over, swiping their cards without checking the price, and chugging the can as best as they could before they were allowed to walk through the door. An excellent ploy, get them tipsy and they won’t care what they’re picking up off the shelves.

Bouncing in your black boots, skinny jeans on your legs and a silky custom Lions bomber jacket on top of a bodysuit, you held a water bottle in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Grooving to the music radiating the walls of the stadium, a pop beat from a music group that prided themselves on being the biggest fans of your brother, the cutest group of seven talented boys the Lions were now partners with, you pulled on the elbow linked with yours, accidentally rocking them with you. Sunglasses low on your nose, you turned and smiled. Latched to you tight, elbows locked, Ryujin licked her ice cream and raised a brow.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, letting you rock her to your heart's content as the two of you strolled through the first floor pavilion. “Is this that group DK likes?” 

“The group that DK is friends with?” Correcting her, she smiled and rolled her eyes. “We had a few of them over in the off season while I was home with him, they’re cool.”

Ryujin dodged a man barreling toward the seats carrying one of his kids in his arms while the other ran behind him. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This place is crazier than last season.” Catching the drips of ice cream down the side of your cone with your tongue, you winked to a group of girls around your age staring at you and Ryujin and gave them a wave as you passed by them.

“They need them to win,” you said.

“They need to use manners,” she countered, giving you a look.

Shaking your head, waving to some other people who actually called out your name and greeted you properly, you said, “Then we need them to win. You don’t wanna see these people when they lose.”

Ryujin, having been on guard for your sake since she arrived three days ago, gave the people a stare, not caring what they thought of her. She overanalyzed them all. Back in February, a little over a month ago, when the Mingyu story broke the internet, your name was drug through the mud. You weren’t so innocent either, though you were, you knew what you did, what had happened, but to the media you were a drunken mess homie hopper. 

The photos of Vernon safely placing you into his passenger seat couldn’t even compare to the photos of Mingyu and Daya, taken from far away, not up close like people would do to you when you were dating him. That thought alone disgusted you, that you weren’t worthy of certain boundaries like Daya apparently was, that you could have cameras shoved in your face while you were kissing your boyfriend in a public space, but there she was, on his lap, tongue in his cheek, and the photos and videos were grainy as fuck. 

He couldn’t defend himself. It took about twenty four hours for you to be able to face him, even at the training games they had played the following day you ignored him, sat in the stands with your sunglasses on, arms folded, legs crossed, only cheering and clapping when ‘Now batting, first basemen, Chwe Hansol’ was announced through the stadium. Simply to piss him off, of course. Videos of that hit the internet to no one's surprise, everyone was way too involved in the scandal that almost took down Vernon’s name as well.

The two of you spoke that night, the day after the story nearly imploded your lives, with DK and Vernon on standby, the two waiting in the hallway outside of your hotel room to Mingyu’s demise. Your precious, golden hunk of a boyfriend couldn’t say two words to come back from what he’d done. With grace, somehow, he listened to your telling of how the night went, how he’d acted in front of your brother, and what he’d said to Vernon.

His only reasoning, that wasn’t an excuse to how he ended up with Daya on top of him, was that she came onto him. Loosely believing it, that he didn’t realize what she’d been doing, you let him go with a hug and his thousands of soft apologies for everything he’d been putting you through without realizing. 

That was the Mingyu you used to know, before the money, before the fame got to his head, before he was one of the stars on the team, a huge name in baseball. The nice Mingyu, the one who’d catch onto the things your parents would say and give you a silly look with a roll of his eyes, the Mingyu who once upon time said he wanted to take care of you one day, wanted to give you a life you deserved. 

But, he was all talk. A hug, whispers of I’m sorry, it was as simple as that.

All the mentions of realization seemed to withstand the pressure of the media cracking down on him in interviews, the way people would run into him on the street and bombard him with questions of you, of Vernon, of the scandal, of what he’d done. Every single time he would own up to it. Left within him, though you broke his heart, wouldn’t forgive him, told him that you two did not work together, was the care he held for you. The love he said he had, which out of everything, was the one thing you wholeheartedly believed in.

Protecting your name, defending you, speaking about you with a softness in his eyes only when asked, he at least kept one of his promises. Giving you a life you deserved, a safe one. He gave you your space, he didn’t try to come back, he didn’t fight to hold onto anything, he respected what you had to say, what you wanted, which would’ve driven you mad if Vernon weren’t standing in the hallway, if you didn’t have history clinging to him, love for him. A boy that podcasts and drama influencers alike were calling stupid for involving himself with you, for getting between you and Mingyu, that if you two were to get together after this it’d be a shorter relationship than the one you’ve just come out of.

All the more reason for Mingyu to come out and admit to what he’d done, which in turn, destroyed Daya and Hoshi’s marriage.

Desperately clinging to whatever she possibly could, sloppily throwing stories together, making absolute dogshit up about you, about Mingyu, about your brother, she scrambled miserably to hold onto her husband and the beautiful, wonderful life he’d given her. 

You and Hoshi spent some time together in the days following the break up, bonding in a way you’d never expect. Across dinner tables after days of baseball, he’d sip his beer and tell you story after story about what a witch his soon-to-be ex-wife was. He never meant to marry her, which didn’t make him out to be partner of the year, but when they found out she was pregnant with their daughter he put a ring on her finger and owned up to the new life he was bound to live.

He wasn’t looking for an excuse to divorce her, to escape her, to get rid of her, but he wouldn’t say he wasn’t grateful that this ended up happening. As for his daughter, he wouldn’t give her up for the world, when he spoke on Daya their daughter never came up. It was all her, his now ex-wife, or in the process of becoming ex-wife. He’d always shower Tora with love, would show up for her, and give her the world whether he was with her mother or not. And that’s who Daya became to him, the mother of his daughter, nothing more.

She was the curse of last season after all, the fans had no problem discarding her after Hoshi made the one and only public post to announce his divorce.

In doing so, combined with Mingyu’s unspoken compliance, Hoshi aided in the repairing of your name, of Vernon’s name, and within weeks things started to turn around.

“I don’t like the way some of these people are looking at you,” Ryujin said, holding onto you a little tighter each time someone's eyes spent more than two seconds on you. 

Tugging her out of the way of a family staring at their phones then pointing to the signs above their heads, confused as to where they were going, you yanked her toward the row of stairs leading to the first base line. “Most are fine,” you assured her, pausing at the top of the steps. The man working the row gave you a smile and a nod. “How are you?” Returning the smile, you watched his cheeks blush.

“Fine, Miss Isla, and you?” he asked with another nod of his head.

Looking at Ryujin, then back at him, you nodded as well. “Fantastic. There’s three more behind us, they should-”

“ISLA!”

The high pitched scratchy scream struck your heart. Eyes wide, head snapping to look down at your seats in the first row, you couldn’t help the obnoxious screech that came out of you involuntarily, simply triggered by a glimpse of their beautiful faces. Ryujin slipped her elbow out of yours, accepted the ice cream cone you slapped into her hand, and let you go, discarding the sweets before leisurely following you down the stairs, not running like you were. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, skipping a few steps at a time, “Oh my god!” Heads were turned from the seats slowly filling the sections, you and your sisters shrieks gathering attention like clockwork. Even if you weren’t actively causing a scene, when the five of you were together people paid attention. 

Jumping off the last step into the row, you didn’t even have a second to look at any of them, to mess with the adorable outfits they’d thrown together, you were in their arms and their arms were around you, squeezing you, the four of you lost in whispers and Tori’s teary eyes. When Ryujin made it down the steps she wiggled herself into the middle, her hands grabbing onto three different parts of two different girls.

Aurora, Tori, Yuna, Ryujin, they were here. Once you found out they were coming to opening day you upgraded their tickets, you grouped them in with yourself and made sure they’d be down here on the field with you. It’d been months, and after the last few weeks, you needed your sisters. Partially the reason why Ryujin came days earlier after she’d gotten clearance from a few of her classes. Like DK promised, she stayed in his house with you, she hung out with your brother and actually got to know him for him and not the almighty baseball superstar he was made out to be.

She liked him as your brother more, and DK took to her in the same way. Within three days it felt like you were trapped with a big sister as well as a big brother with how they both ganged up on you, teaming together to tease you like big siblings should while whipping you into shape at the same time. The other three were set to come back to the house with you tonight, staying for the length of the three game series the Lions were opening their season with, and you couldn’t wait for them to spend time with the brother you spent so much time telling them about at Nasara.

“Tor,” you whined first as the group hug dispersed, reaching for her bronzed cheeks glowing in the March sun. Her glossy pout worsened, making you giggle, forcing your thumbs to her bottom lashes to keep her makeup in place. Tori came close to Ryujin in your heart, another trustworthy sister to share some secrets with, to open up to, she matched your try anything once energy, your party loving twin.

Grabbing your wrists, her red nails brushing your skin, she shook her head. “It is so good to see you, Isla,” she said, her voice quiet, half broken. “You have no idea what the hell we went through after you left, what we thought happened to you, it was so scary.”

A smile pricked your lips. “Ryujin throwing a sneaker at Yeji’s head?” Giggles sounded around you. “I heard all about it.” Wiping her eyes, you took her hands in yours and squeezed them, giving Aurora a glance. “I heard about everything.”

“How did you know?” Aurora asked, her observant eyes intriguing your own, the girl always on some mission to know. “You said something to me, do you remember?” Truthfully, no, you did not, and you weren’t at a point yet where you had the balls to admit it. Aurora seemed to catch on quick. “Before any of us knew anything… Caught onto anything, which, we didn’t, you knew.”

“And it cost you,” Yuna chimed in, laying a hand on your shoulder. Giving her and her chocolate curls a smile, you shrugged.

“I’ll be honest,” you whispered. “I thought it was obvious.” The laughter that broke out warmed your heart, thank god.

“Let’s not get stuck on this right now,” Ryujin pulled you out the girl's hands and moved you in front of a seat that looked straight out to first base. “We have a game to watch, we can talk about this later.”

Shuffling around the chairs, deciding who was going to sit where around you, an insane amount of questions were thrown your way, every single one involving Vernon.

“Are you guys dating?” Yuna asked from beside you on your right.

“Were you guys dating before? At Nasara?” Tori asked from your left.

Aurora poked her head forward. “Just so everyone knows, he told me about her first!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Tori elbowed her leather jacket that so obviously belonged to Wooyoung. 

Ryujin threw her hands up, her eyebrows furrowed, the crease in her forehead deep. “I knew the whole time?!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Aurora said to her, the two breaking out into giggles, throwing playful hands at each other. 

Tori rolled her eyes, her fluffy lashes fluttering as she looked between you and Yuna. “These two, I swear they’re on each other more than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Perking a brow, a smirk lighting up your lips, you leaned forward to witness them swatting at each other's hands, giggling like little kids. Yeah, you knew that one. “Ror,” you caught her attention, and Ryujin’s, “You and Wooyoung? Finally?”

She blinked, many times. Tori took her bottom lip between her teeth, her face going blank. “I mean,” she started, shrugging, gaze flickering out onto the empty field. “Something like that.” Confusion filled your face and she smiled, a breathy laugh escaping her. “We’re not putting pressure on anything,” she clarified. “So many big things have happened this year, we just want to… Be.”

You knew that one.

Letting her know you understood her with a smile, you shifted to Tori who just finished taking a deep breath, her eyes fixed forward. “What about you?” you asked her, letting the other two go back to giggling with one another. Yuna listened in to them, paying no mind to the quiet way Tori spoke back to you.

“What do you mean?” she questioned within a whisper.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “How’s Mingi? Mr Loverman? I miss seeing you guys be you,” you nudged her arm, “Your relationship is my favorite, I yearn to have what you two have.”

“Yearn?” She smirked.

“I know words, Tor,” you said, sitting up straight. Gesturing to yourself, you said, “Haven’t drank in two weeks, I’m remembering words I used to know when I was good at school, I’m tryna use them all, one word a day.”

Her eyes began to shine. “Two weeks,” she whispered. You nodded, feeling proud, keeping your anxiety locked away for the time being. “Isla, that’s great.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, accepting her hand she offered you. “It’s hard.”

“But you’re doing it,” she smiled.

“Longest streak yet,” you whispered, and she squeezed your fingers. “This doesn’t get you out of the Mingi question.”

Her face fell. “Damn it.”

“Don’t tell me you guys broke up?” you asked, and she turned toward you, flustered, her cheeks flushing of color.

“No, no, no,” she whispered as fast as humanly possible, “Not that, we didn’t break up, it’s just…”

“Soul said that!” Aurora’s cackle cut her off, Ryujin and Yuna laughing with her.

Closing her eyes, Tori took a breath before looking at you. “I don’t know how to describe it. It sounds horrible in my head, I don’t think I can say it out loud, if I try I either look like a jealous bitch or a shitty girlfriend.”

Placing your other hand on top of the one you were already holding, you smiled something soft. “It’s okay,” you said. “Thoughts are one thing, actions are another.”

Tori frowned. “I love him, you know I do.”

“Tor, we all know that.”

She glanced away, collecting her thoughts. The booming voice of the sportscaster sounded over the speakers and the now full stands erupted into cheers. “We’ll talk later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face as the Lions were called out onto the field, every person in the stadium leaping to their feet.

Adrenaline shot down your spine, your anxiety pushed aside by the excitement that buzzed within your heart. DK, the first to run out onto the field, shot a hand in the air, waving as the music blasted for their arrival, guiding them to their places on the field. Player after player, they ran out, hands in the air, greeting their fans, searching for their family in the stands, saying hello to cameras pointed their way. The field flooded with love from both players and fans.

Number seven hit the field, cleats in the grass, and your heart skipped a beat. This was it, the first game of the rest of his life. Brown curls popped out beneath his hat, curls you had your fingers in last night from the passenger seat of his car after Ryujin slammed her door shut and hurried up to your brother's house, Vernon dropping the two of you off after a shared dinner amongst friends. He took a second, pausing as the crowd went wild for him and his teammates. Tipping his chin backward, chocolate eyes wide, an absolute look of awe, he turned in a slow circle, attempting to look at every single person, until he found you.

The world went quiet around you, though everyone and your sisters still cheered with every ounce of power within them. A smile lit up his face, one he wouldn’t normally wear so publicly, too much emotion for people who didn’t know him. Watching him wear it now, taking in all the love the fans threw his way, you swore you could cry. 

He was meant to go to first base, everyone was taking their places on the field, the other team was on their way out, but once he found you he was stuck. Glued to you. Drawn to you. He couldn’t even say hi to your friends, his friends, he hurried over and grabbed onto the net separating the two of you, beckoning you closer. Stepping up to the ledge, grabbing onto his fingers that poked through the net, you smiled.

“Girlfriend,” he whispered, pressing his nose to the scratchy yarn.

Leaning into him, doing the same, your noses brushing, you whispered, “Boyfriend,” with a giggle.

“This is fucking crazy,” he said. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you said. “You made it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Remember to breathe,” you whispered. “You can do this.”

Sucking down a breath, he released it all too fast, whispering, “I love you,” before pressing his lips to yours, unafraid to let everyone in the stadium in on the secret you two have been keeping for two weeks now. A secret that you’d try to keep, that both of you wanted to keep, for yourselves, and yourselves only.

Though you knew, after this, #visla would be trending faster than anything.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[peachjagiya]

hi

sorry if this is off topic but this is about the taennie situation so I know taennie is just pr and all and maybe gurumi was from hybe all along but when gurumu leaked that rise and Jennie photo from New York where jenni was wearing a cap and then taehyung was spotted wearing the same cap at the museum with bogum how did that happen

Can you please explain

Not a shipper just confused about this hat thing

Ok. So it's an MLB NY Yankees ball-cap in the colour mustard.

MLB gear is a bit like Stussy where it's very omnipresent amongst idols to the point where I'm near certain it's PR gifted. I also just found out MLB is more of a fashion line in Korea than a representation of baseball loyalty.

Our very own Yoongi wearing MLB:

Jisoo from Blackpink:

The8 from SVT:

Jihyo from Twice:

Even Min Heejin's famous blue cap is MLB:

Here's a little compelling evidence for PR gift. S.Coups has MLB caps, including an LA Dodgers one, in at least three colours:

Tae himself has it in at least four colours:

So... Ok you could say yes but there's no compelling dating rumour about The8 and Jihyo or S.Coups and MHJ (?!), both pairs pictured with matching hats. So does it mean more that Taennie are heavily rumoured and matching?

Maybe but it doesn't negate PR stunt for me. These hats are readily available to both of them.

Besides, you could always look at Tae's other compelling dating rumour:

😇 after all, if the gurumi pictures and sneaky photographer pictures and matching items are what ta3nnies wants to go on, Tae has visibly dated Jungkook significantly more than he has Jennie. But heteronormativity prevents people accepting it.

Thanks anon.

[justsomekpopstuff]

baseball!seventeen reacting to the new see-through uniform pants

A/N: THIS IS MOSTLY SFW I PROMISE! Taking a quick break from the D&D series to bring you this because it made me laugh. Credits to my girl @au-writer who helped come up with these

current masterlist | fic recs

baseball svt part 1 | baseball svt part 2

FOR CONTEXT: Major League Baseball (the MLB) recently switched over their uniform manufacturers. The new manufacturer is, quite simply, VERY bad. Not only are the actual jerseys terrible quality, but the pants that players have to wear are pretty much completely see-through. It is a (hilarious) disaster, and therefore, these headcanons were born. For more context, read HERE.

Refuses to wear the pants: Seungcheol, Joshua Seungkwan

Seungcheol, being the leader if of the team, sees all the issues with the pants and refuses to wear them out of rage. He runs a CLASSY team. He secretly also refuses because he knows one squat into his catching position and those pants will be ripped to shreds. He's the first to take it up with the players union and argue that the team will not be playing with those ridiculous pants. Joshua, while sometimes a chaotic gremlin, knows his limits, and he is not willing to let his mom see him do his job with so much visible because of the pants. He will still absolutely tease the hell out of the members who chose to wear the pants, but no way you are catching him wearing them himself. He is also taking bets on who rips their pants first. Seungkwan also refuses to wear the pants, echoing pretty much everything Seungcheol says with extra sass, like "YES" "YOU TELL THEM". He has dignity as well as personality and he intends to keep both.

Comes up with a creative solution to wear the pants: Wonwoo, Woozi, Seokmin, Minghao, Vernon

Wonwoo outright hates the see-through pants, and the only way he will wear them is if he wears his team-issued jackets around his waist for the whole game/practice. He doesn't care if its not regulation or if he gets fined. If he has to wear the pants, he will be doing it his way - jackets on. Woozi, while pissed, accepts his fate knowing that Seungcheol will probably fight the league until its fixed. Until then, he's doubling up on pants and underwear to try and keep some dignity. Seokmin will let out a horrified scream after putting on the pants and seeing that they are very see through. He will see that some of the others are doing double-pants and other various solutions and will join in, but likely with more flare. Like, it will be glaringly obvious that he is trying to hide how see-through the pants are. He will also be the first to rip through them. Minghao sees the complete see-through-ness of the pants and knew something had to be done, so he takes his pants to a tailor to get them reinforced and make them less see-through. Everyone else is jealous because they didn't think of that first. Vernon, being the chillest human ever, just decides to wear extra pants over the see-through ones, from other baseball pants to swim trunks - whatever he can find just to cover up for the time being. He will absolutely walk out to the field during their first spring training game wearing basketball shorts over his pants.

Wears the pants: Jeonghan, Jun, Hoshi Mingyu, Chan

Jeonghan decides to wear the pants because he knows that he's not going to be seen that much anyway, and honestly he's got other things to worry about than his pants being see-through (like his next bullpen cat nap or how to beat Joshua at cards during their next travel day) Jun, an unbothered king, just rolls with it. He's like "welp, another day of the baseball, time to get dressed" and embraces the see-through. Jun doesn't realize they are see through until he is out on the field doing warm-ups and by that point he's like "eh why not". He actually enjoys how breezy they are. Hoshi could be categorized with the "creative solution" team, but honestly he's just so excited to play that he really doesn't care about how see-through the pants are. He will absolutely try doing high-kicks and back-flips as a means of testing just how see through the pants are. He will also use this opportunity to push the horangae agenda with pride. Minimal shame is seen from him. Mingyu wears the see-through pants. He doesn't realize they are see-through at first. The team tries to convince him they are not see-through and it almost works. It gets to a point where he just says "screw it" and embraces the see through. He knows he looks good, but he will be shyly blushing the entire time. Chan, despite Seungcheol's protests and teasing from various teammates, wears the pants with (mostly) confidence. He's a grown man, he can do what he wants. If they are see-through, they are see through. He's there to play baseball, that's pretty much it. Jeonghan does try to get him to cover up, but he refuses.

[lizziexmeow]

[ DK posted in @/mlb 🌟 IG ]

241101 - 13:03 KST - @/dk_is_dokyeom

> K-pop icon and Dodgers fan DK was at a #WorldSeries game to help cheer them on to the championship 🤩

[ DK Story 🌟 IG ]

241101 - 13:05 KST - @/dk_is_dokyeom

[ SVT UPDATE 🌟 TWITTER ] 241101 - 13:03 KST

[ SVT UPDATE 🌟 TWITTER ] 241101 - 16:07 KST

[sailorrhansol]

What is with this MLB hat era for SVT lately is New Era paying them like this is a new level of wearing these damn hats in MVs, shows and everything soifjdoigj

[bambisnc]

: ̗̀➛🍮 🄰🄱🅃 🄼🄴 ?! ‹𝟹 :

🍶ᵕ̈ _name_ : yin/kerry ₊🥐˚. _pronouns_ : she/her ‹𝟹 ˙ᵕ˙ 🍵_age_ : minor !! dm for exact ☕༝༚༝༚ ₊ ⊹ _zodiac_ : scorpio ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 🥛- _mbti_ : enfp -> infp -> intp -> entj -> we back to infp guys

: ̗̀➛🍮 🄾🅃🄷🄴🅁 🄵🄰🅅🅂 ?! ‹𝟹 :

○ idol groups ₊˚🖇️✩ skz enha lsrfm nwjns txt zb1 itzy nct (all units) riize svt kard atz aespa nmixx bnd tbz ive g-idle (also xg p1h kep1er stayc)

○ misc music ₊˚🖇️✩ chase atlantic the weeknd the neighbourhood sabrina carpenter olivia rodrigo etc etc

○ shows ₊˚🖇️✩ castaway diva all of us are dead friends b99 mlb

○ anime ₊˚🖇️✩ hyouka horimiya bsd blue spring ride sxf fairytail sk8 yoi + otherss

○ other fandoms ₊˚🖇️✩ a lot!! of webtoons pleas discuss em w me :( <3 rrverse robin cook but books spec ft the laurie and jack universe

[tomlinsun]

x

[ynfics]

Personal faves

These stories (or whatever I  might put on here) are my personal faves and I will tell you guys why

Dead mall series - Seventeen-teen-teen-trash

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Horror

Type: Smau

Status: Completed

Pairing: None

Summary: The boys explore an abanoned mall to rekindle their friendship and things goes sideways when people start to go missing.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: Okay so basically I love Seventeen-teen-teen-trash, and I’ve been reading their stuff since Ash started their Svt college series. I’ve been there when both Liz and Mimi got introduced and has read all of their stuff too. Mimi wanted to write something different from the others and tried her hand at writing horror and thus the dead mall series was created. I became a part of a group chat where we discussed the au and theories everytime there was an update. We experienced this series to the fullest, and it just meant a lot to me at the time, I found a community of people who liked the same things and everyone in that chat was really nice and Mimi (who was also in the chat) was also realy nice and that whole period of time just meant a lot to me. 

Pigella vs Shadowmoth - Buggachat

Fandom: MLB

Genre: Humor

Type: Comic

Status: Completed

Paring: None

Summary: Pigella meets Shadowmoth

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is amazing, just trust me! It is 1 minute of your time

Meeting you changed me - Bonbonthedragon

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Type: Written fic

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Summary: Dad!Bakugo who has been hurt before and is relucant to trust again but his son loves the owner of the cute coffeeshop on the corner.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It’s got everything. Single dad!Bakugo, coffeshop au, kinda slowburn.

Little by little - Beibeecakes

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Angst

Type: Oneshot

Status: Completed

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x his kids (in a wholesome way)

Summary: It is dad!Bakugo, but this is after wife!Reader dies on a mission and he is left alone in grief and with kids.

Why does it deserve to be a fave:  Dad!Bakugo, which I’m always a sucker for tbh, reconecting with his children through grief. I cried.

The prince and the shadows - Grufflepuff-writes-stuff

Fandom: Marvel

Genre: Fluff

Type: Oneshot

Status: Completed

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: You grew up in Vanaheim, but spend a lot of time in Asgard with the princes. You’ve grown apart but has come of age and your mother want’s you to reconect.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is childhood friends to lovers, it’s just super cute.

You are thick -  Falloutjay

Fandom: South Park

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Type: Oneshot

Status: Completed

Pairing: Kenny McCormick x Reader

Summary: Thick!Reader is dating Kenny and Cartman calls her names, Kenny is reader’s protector/confidence boost

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I love Kenny, and him sorta defending thick!Reader, just makes me feel some type of way.

Bakery “enemies” au - Buggachat

Fandom: MLB

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Type: Comic

Status: Ongoing

Pairing:  Marinette Dupain-Cheng x Adrien Agreste

Summary:  It is post Hawkmoth defeat. Ladybug and Chat Noir never learn each others identites and no one knew about Mayura. Marinette suspects Adrien so she believes they are enemies, he knows nothing and is just trying to move on.

Why does it deserve to be a fave:  It is sorta onesided enemies to lovers, since Adrien doesn’t know Marinette thinks they are enemies. It is all very nice and is in an amazing artstyle!

Scarlet Lady - Zoe-oneesama

Fandom: MLB

Genre: Humor, fluff

Type Comic

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Marinette Depain-Cheng x Adrien Agreste

Summary:  Chloe  has stolen Tikki before Marinette got to meet her, so she is now Scarlet Lady who along with Chat Noir has to save Paris from Hawkmoth.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: Chloe sucks as a superhero, Marientte (kinda) catches a break for once, Adrien has the fattest crush on Marinette, who crushes on Chat Noir. A lot of character development that the actual show hasn’t done. Super cute artstyle!

Abberation - Bakuhoes-dumbass

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Horror

Type: Written fic

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader, Katsuki Bakugo x Reader, Shouto Todoroki x Reader, Eijiro Kirishima x Reader, Denki Kaminari x Reader, fumikage Tokoyami x Reader, Hitsohi Shinso x Reader, Tamaki Amajiki x Reader, Haws x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Kai Chisaki x Reader

Summary:  Quirks are a mutation which a very small part of the world posess. Reader is the new scientist at a facility that studies dangerous criminals with quirks.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is just a very uniqe idea and It is SO well written.

Butter fingers - Jincherie

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Fluff

Type: Oneshot

Status: Completed

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Summary:  Hybrid!Namjoon as a preschool teacher.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so cute! 

Another world - Nexusspiders

Fandom: Marvel

Genre: Angst, fluff

Type: Multi part fic

Status: On going

Pairing: Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Reader

Summary: In reader’s universe her Peter is killed by Green Goblin, so she takes over and becomes Spiderwoman. Que MCU Peter’s spell gone wrong, and she is transferred to that universe, but Peter 3 looks just like her Peter.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is amazingly written! And I love the heartbreaking thing with Peter 3 not knowing her while she has all these memories with him. 

Stumbling words - Writing-mlm

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Fluff

Type: Oneshot

Status: Completed

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x Male!Reader

Summary: Denki has had a crush on Reader for 4 years and decides to try to ask them out. It takes a few tries.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I love support course!Reader and all the possibilities it entails. It is super well written and it makes me giddy seeing the pining from both sides.

Bee movie AU - Moonlitceleste

Fandom: DC x MLB

Genre: Humor, fluff

Type: Fics, art, moodboard, playlist, merch?

Status: It is a masterlist of all things bee movie au

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Summary: It is a dumb idea that  Moonlitceleste and Lady-literature started and it has blossomed into something amazing

Why does it deserve to be a fave: Honestly, why shouldnt it? It is the epitome of chaos and dumb funny stuff for characters that I love.

Yue/Zuko/Sokka - Shanastoryteller

Fandom: ATLA

Genre: Fluff? I’m not sure tbh

Type: Drabbles

Status: On going (I think)

Painring: Bethroed Zuko x Yue, Sokka is their lover

Summary: Zuko is bethroed to Yue to make an alliance between the fire nation and the Northern water tribe. Yue is in love with Sokka. Zuko does his absolute best to make Yue comfortable in the situatuon and tries to make sure that she gets the respect she deserves, from her own people and his alike. He ends up making Sokka both their lover and ambassador for the water tribe. He cares very much about Yue’s wellbeing.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I love Yue and I never see fics with her as anything other than an enemy. I love their dynamic and how hard Zuko fights to give her everything she deserves.

Husband for hire - Bakugotrashpanda

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Type: Written fic

Status: Completed

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Reader is facing the possibility of losing her farm if she is not married before the end of the year, Bakugou is a broke college student looking for a cheap place to stay. A fake marriage is the only logical solution.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I have never had any kind of interest in Stardew Valley before reading this. It is so well written and the characterization of not only characters I already knew (Bakugou, Kirishima and so on) but I also felt like I knew the Stardew Valley characters.

Note: Reading this made me buy the game

To shape a home - Mindninjax

Fandom: BNHA

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Type: Written fic

Status: Completed

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Reader inherits her grandfathers farm in her old hometown, a runin with a rude farmer makes the whole experience more memorable as she tries to make the old farm into a home.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I have never had any kind of interest in Stardew Valley before reading this. It is so well written and so detailed! Turns out I am indeed a slut for Farmer!Bakugou. Love that other My hero characters are residing in the town and I love the relationships between the different characters.

Note: Reading this made me buy the game. Sweet Mama deserves everything.

The age of consent - Officialeddiemunson

Fandom: Stranger Things

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Type: Written fic

Status: Ongoing

Paining: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Reader worries that her brothers new idol could be a bad influence on him. It doesn’t help that her and Eddie have history. 

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is Henderson!Reader, which I am a slut for. It is really well written and I love that you get to see a chapter from Eddie’s pov so soon. I love the sibling dynamic between Reader and Dustin, and the dynamic between her and Eddie. I love that you get to uncover both sides of their breakup.

A guide to D&D and dating - Munsons-maiden

Fandom: Stranger Things

Genre: Fluff, Slight angst

Type: Oneshot

Status: Finished

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wanted to surprise your boyfriend Eddie, to do so you’ve convinced Dustin to teach you Dnd. Eddie starts to worry as this makes you cancel dates often. 

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so cute! As someone who actually plays dnd it makes me happy to have a fic that (kinda) has a focus on the game. The dynamic between Dustin and reader is immaculate. Eddie being cute and worried. 

Jealousy, jealousy -  Theoreticslut

Genre: Angst, fluff

Type: Oneshot

Status: Finished

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Summary: You are a well established part of the Hellfire club but when your brother and his friends join you get pushed aside.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so well written! The sibling jealousy feels so real. Everything is *chefskiss*

The song of beren and luthien -  Iliaclwrites

Genre: Fluff

Type: Written fic

Status: Finished

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: No one knows that Eddie has a girlfriend. No one would have guessed it to be the cute assistant librarian who helps Dustin with his first campaign in Hellfire. 

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so cute! Reader is amazing and the way she helps Dustin with his campaign and the whole brownie thing from part 2. Amazing.

June baby - Luveline

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Type: Will be a written fic

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Teen mom!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds a toddler infront of his house and decides to meet his new neighbours. 

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so cute! Junie is so acurately written, like you can feel her being a toddler. Junie’s relationship with Eddie and the way he jut pops around to help in cute sneaky ways!

Man of the month - Mochie85

Genre: Angst, fluff, slight smut

Type: Series

Status: Finished

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: You are a member of the avengers who enjoys photography as a hobby. Tony robes you in to plan and take the pictures for the Avengers very own tasteful nudes calender. Problem is that while apparently some of your teammembers may have feelings for you, you only have eyes for one and you’re certain he doesn’t feel the same. 

Why does it deserve to be a fave: It is so nice and fun, not so much the whole nice guy thing Steve has going on, but it feels so in character! I love that we can feel y/n becoming more and more on edge as the fateful december shoot edges closer. I really enjoy her relationship to the different characters and seeing how they react to rejection. I love the friendship she evolves with Shaun.

First Impressions - Lost-walmartbag

Genre: Angst, fluff

Type: Series

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Eric Cartman x Reader

Summary: You meet Eric Cartman in college and start dating (a good and healthy relationship), he takes you back to meet his mom and South Park in general.

Why does it deserve to be a fave: I hate Eric Cartman with my entire being... This fic has made me see him in a completely different light.. I really like his character in this fic and I can’t wait to see him try to come to terms with and/or try to justify his actions from the show. Also this is a Liane Cartman hateclub. 

[paktechnician]

Lenovo ThinkPad T61 MLB-1 NV EXT SVT Ver2.27

Lenovo ThinkPad T61 MLB-1 NV EXT SVT Ver2.27

You can download your requested Lenovo ThinkPad T61 MLB-1 NV EXT SVT Ver2.27 file from the below link. You just need to click on the “Generate Download Link” button and then wait for just 15 seconds. After that, you need to click the newly appeared button “Download Now”. The file will be downloaded. But if you are facing an error, please report it to us via the comment section or the contact us…

[usatrendingsports]

Gary Bettman says it is ‘arduous to check’ the NHL ever returning to the Olympics

A lot for the NHL eyeing a grand return to the Olympics in 2022.

Days after a report indicated the league could be utilizing its elevated presence in China as a path to partaking within the Beijing Winter Video games, NHL commissioner Gary Bettman informed Sweden’s SVT Sport, as relayed by SB Nation, that it is “arduous to check” the NHL ever returning to future Olympics.

Months after headlining the league’s repeated stance in opposition to participant participation within the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics, Bettman didn’t rule out an NHL presence in Beijing for the 2022 Video games, per SB Nation. The league’s efforts within the 2017-18 China Video games exhibitions, actually, would counsel the NHL desires to play a giant position abroad. However the commissioner additionally stated it is tough to think about “a situation the place it is sensible” for NHL gamers to take part in any Olympics outdoors North America.

“I by no means say by no means, however I discover it arduous to check a situation the place it is sensible except, probably, the Winter Video games are again in North America the place the time-frame, and the eye, and the logistics — journey — are rather a lot totally different,” Bettman stated, per SB Nation.

These phrases are unsurprising contemplating the NHL’s insistence on retaining its 2017-18 common season schedule intact — an insistence that prompted NBC to basically black out the league’s video games through the South Korea Video games in February. If probably the most outstanding of NHL gamers’ voices are any indication, nonetheless, these phrases are additionally the newest instance of Bettman and Co. shielding their most marketable stars from a world stage.

MVP Connor McDavid was considered one of numerous big-name gamers to publicly name out the NHL for disallowing gamers to attend the 2018 Olympics and refusing to interrupt up the common season schedule. And whereas Bettman and league executives could also be justified in preaching logistics and well being issues, as they’ve incessantly achieved because the NHL’s first 2018 prohibition bulletins, they will not be successful over any extra followers amongst their gamers in the event that they maintain out of extra Winter Video games.

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from Usa Trending Sports – NFL | NCAA | NBA | MLB | NASCAR | UFC | WWE http://ift.tt/2jMsj8I

[chimivx]

home;run -> 'who's on first?'

So, the college thing didn’t really work out, did it? People talk about having a plan B, a plan C. Luckily, you have a DK, your older brother who wants nothing more than to whip his party loving little sister into shape. You’ve always loved his teammates, they’ve always loved you, surely Plan DK will go exactly as planned… Right?

• the playlist •

zero; nasara or stay?

one; the lions princess.

two; not a wag.

three; past tense.

four; locker room.

five; it was implied.

six; do better.

seven; number seven.

read it on ao3 | talk to me | my masterlist

[r551177]

Majestic マジェスティック ベースボールシャツ ニューヨーク ヤンキース メッツ カブス ホワイトソックス [MM21-MLB-0020] 【majestic tシャツ スポーツ ストリート 大きいサイズ】

価格：￥7452

店舗名：HIP HOP DOPE

[chimivx]

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

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

wc; {part two} 5.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; hi, i am posting & feeling shy. please enjoy. <3 dusting off my fingers for this one, i am still not feeling 100%, thank you everyone for your kind words & messages. peese n lurv. <3

Weeks ago your brother decided this Mingyu thing was good, but only in theory. Parading around with him, hanging out with him, going to bars with him, hooking up with him… All of it actually happening, not good.

DK would prefer you to have these rendezvous with someone who didn’t try to drink his body weight in liquor each time the first can hit his hand, but alas, you were brought home safe every time, so who was he to complain or pick and choose who you can and can’t hang out with.

After their first few seasons together it was clear the two had different outlooks on life, neither of them really in the wrong with how they chose to go about their time, but they didn’t match. They clashed. Your brother, after spending time educating himself on his fathers history and evidently learning that baseball wasn’t the only thing he played, he took a different approach to dating, to women. He was a proper gentleman, DK was, never using his status to acquire a girlfriend with status or money or a title, he searched for love.

A star studded, best pitcher in baseball shouldn’t have had his heart broken as many times as his had been, he should’ve been the one breaking hearts. The girls wanted his money, and they only liked him because he played baseball. His status, his money, his title. All the things he didn’t necessarily want, but had been blessed with. 

He was a good man, and he was always right, but you’d never admit that to his face. Especially after that night, after a weekend of staying at Mingyu’s. DK had sat you down, he spoke for many minutes, many dragging minutes, a monologue full of ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else?’ and ‘Have your friends from Nasara come out to stay with us sometime, maybe you all can spend time in the city together.’ He never said the words, “Don’t date Mingyu,” but you know he despised the idea.

Deep down you despised it too. 

The hunk of golden muscle with a voice so pretty and persuading, he wanted to be your boyfriend. Mingyu’s asked a few times before, letting it become your decision, always telling you he’d wait for you, and that you were his no matter what, that he was here for you, he wanted to take care of you, he wanted to love you. He’d keep his word, you knew he would. It was Mingyu, he kept his promises, he spoke with utmost intent, he didn’t say shit just to say it, nor was he using it to coerce you into his sheets. That you did on your own.

His curly hair, his sappy brown eyes, you’d drown it in, in him, suffocate yourself with Mingyu, all of him until the guilt wallowing in your gut was gone. With each passing day it grew smaller. After each night with Mingyu it was easier to deal with. Like last night, like this entire trip would be.

Arriving in Haos, in the warm air that breezed over your skin like a dream when you stepped out of the airport hand in hand with Mingyu sending cameras flashing away, you finally felt like you could breathe. Away from Iloa, away from the restraints the city put on you, really your brother, this trip felt like freedom. Haos has always been a place you’ve thrived since you were a little girl, traveling back and forth on a jet with your parents and DK, vacationing for months throughout the summer, laying on these beaches until your skin couldn’t take it any longer. The air was different here, it excited you.

It invited you to dance in it, to get lost in it like you did Mingyu.

And that’s just what you did.

Waking up to sunshine peeking through the heavy grey curtains of the hotel room, washing over you where you laid in the king sized bed buried in white sheets and blankets, you didn’t even want to open your eyes. Pressing your hands to your forehead first, rolling onto your back, the ache squeezing your brain threatened your stomach, but you wouldn’t allow it to go any further. Taking a slow, calculated deep breath you lay your arms beside you and stretch, your limbs barely reaching the edges of the mattress. Muscles sore, body tired, you blinked open your eyes and scolded the light with a groan.

Moving beneath the covers, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you tugged them off and took your time sitting up. The weight in your head shifted, almost sending you forward. Clamping your hands to your knees, still blinking fervently in the bright sunshine, you find clothes scattered about the floor, your bell bottom jeans inside out and slung over a dresser across the room from you.

You weren’t sure whose room you were in, but the denim jacket, Nike luggage, and custom sneakers let you know where you were. Dragging a hand through your hair, the blow dry still bouncing even though your jaw ached, you took another breath and made your way out of his bed.

These headlines were gonna be good.

You scrolled, and scrolled. Instagram, Twitter, all the accounts that reported on you, that reported on Mingyu, you scrolled, and you read. Wandering out of bed, you scrolled, sitting on the toilet, you scrolled, brushing your teeth, you scrolled. The photos were cute, Mingyu’s arm either around your back or shoulders, unless his hand was wrapped around your neck or squeezing your ass. More often than not your lips were locked, the two of you ‘unable to get enough’ as one drama influencer said on her story.

You’ve been here one night and have already achieved what you came here to do.

There was a certain rush accompanied by seeing your name in posts, in headlines, coming out of peoples mouths. Everyone had their thing, everyone in your life, they had their thing. This was yours, and people were catching on. After each blow up of news, of rumors, of new photos, your follower count grew.

But where there were fun people talking about you, doing their makeup in their ‘Get Ready With Me and Chit Chat About Moon Isla…’ videos and TikToks, there were the assholes, mostly men, who spewed their worthless thoughts. That’s what DK would say. Mingyu had started saying it too, that those kinds of people had nothing better to do with their lives.

It didn’t mean their words didn’t hurt.

“I mean, she’s sloppy, she’s drinking all the time, and he’s there to carry her around,” a man with a microphone in his face and big headphones on around his head spoke from your phone. Dressed now, having read an article that informed you that you bought the entire bar shots of tequila, you attempted to liven up your face in the mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall. “His team is in Haos to train. To practice. To begin their season to take back their trophy, and this bitch is with them, dragging Kim all along Festa Street.” Slicking clear gloss over your lips, you narrowed your eyes and glared at the man on the screen.

Fair skinned, bald, with a bush on his face and all around his jaw. He had that nagging sort of voice, one that tugged on your eardrums and stabbed them thousands and thousands of times with tiny needles filling you with rage.

“Photos came out right away when the team got there, you know,” the man said, and his partner, another bald man with a Lions hat on, hummed in agreement. “Not a smile on his face. Sunglasses on, gear on his back, his hat tugged over his forehead. Now what do you think that means?”

“He’s hungover,” the partner said. The man threw his hands out to the side and cackled.

“Thank you, he’s hungover, and he has to play today.” You scoffed and snatched your phone off the counter. “They’re lucky the new first-”

“Shut up,” you groaned, swiping away to another video. A girl with long, waist length braids in her hair, each one entwined with a fun color was smiling to the camera.

“Guys,” she finally whispered after a second of staring. A giggle corrupted her, sending her face down into her pillows. The camera shook, then she picked her head back up and widened her eyes for a few seconds. “How do I become her?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled maniacally again. “How do I- Wait, hang on.” 

The camera cut and a picture showed up behind her. Your cheeks warmed. Mingyu had you pressed to a pillar in one of the bars you were in, the name unknown to you. His hands were in the back pockets of your jeans and his forehead was pressed to yours. The way he smiled down at you, god. The picture was a little blurry, a little grainy, but damn. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his dinner. Hearts engulfed his irises.

“Guys?!” The girl shrieked and you jumped, forgetting she was here. “Kim Mingyu, save me! Look at this, do you see this, are we all okay after this…” She rambled more nonsense, and you’re certain the thousands of comments were agreeing with her. On every video of girls like this the comments were full of more girls saying the same exact thing.

You dared, and you clicked.

‘how does she not die when he looks like that’

‘LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURRRRRRN’

‘Shes so lucky waht the actual fuck guys its not fair.’

‘how are they NOT DATING’

How are they not dating? How are you not dating Mingyu? How could you look at a photo like this one, all of it screaming that he loved you, how could you see this, witness this, live this, and not date him? Not want to date him?

Locking your phone, tossing it to the counter, you returned to your makeup and put on fresh mascara, not that anyone was going to see it.

Venturing out into the room, side stepping articles of clothing, you pulled on one of Mingyu's grey Lions tee’s and wiggled back into the jeans you wore last night. Your luggage was elsewhere. DK would tell you where it ended up, he’d tell you where you were staying. You haven’t seen him since you left the airport, you were not looking forward to the lecture you’d get when you met him at the field.

Sliding thick black sunglasses onto your nose, making sure your hair framed your face, you spritzed some of Mingyu’s cologne onto your neck, dropped your things into your little purse, slid into your shoes, and left his room behind.

The team was gone, they’d been out on the field for two hours already. Nearing eleven o’clock you weren’t sure who else would be left behind here at the hotel, hopefully someone you’d catch a ride with, but to your demise as you wandered the halls and rode the elevator down to the lobby, your least favorite people were here.

The WAGs.

A piercing cry echoed through the air and the glass ceiling of the lobby.

The WAGs and their children.

To the right of the main lobby, the carpeted area where large leather couches and a fireplace lived, fabulous heads of hair sat around or stood with their babies in their arms. Tight jeans, fun Lions themed jackets, the whole thing screamed WAGs and it made you want to gag. 

Then you remembered what shirt you put on and kept your thoughts to yourself.

Already regretting approaching them, you took yourself toward the couches and attempted to smile at them. In an instant their chatter quieted, their attention turned to you, and they broke out in cheesy greetings. There were only a few faces you recognized.

Seungcheols wife, Talia, who was very pregnant, had their son Tao on her hip where she stood in front of the couches. Luscious blonde hair flowing toward her waist, her full face of makeup smiled back at you. She was one of the few you actually trusted. Gesturing toward her knee high wedged boots, you shot her a thumbs up. From what you know she was weeks from popping out kid number two, so how she was walking around in those boots, props to her.

On the couch directly in front of you rocking her crying baby sat Daya, a brunette with macchiato colored skin married to the Lions second basemen, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as the city of Iloa called him. They haven’t been married long, but their baby girl, Tora, was six months old. Hoshi was one of the reasons the team started to crumble last season. Between Daya and his new daughter, the family fought the narrative the entire off season. 

Daya sat beside Halle, a woman with curly black hair hanging at her shoulders and the smoothest dark chocolate complexion. She bounced a baby in her arms, her and her husband, Minghao, their eight month old, Sunday. Another daughter born into the Lions family, one toward the beginning of the season, the family just missing the reason for crumble rumors.

The two were best friends, Daya and Halle, just as were Hoshi and Minghao. With their chins turned up at you and their seemingly judging eyes studying what you wore and how you wore it, they smiled and shared a look.

“Isla you’re so fun,” Talia said with a shake of her head. 

Daya laughed under her breath. “She’ll be one of us soon,” she grumbled, and Halle laughed with her.

“Leave the girl be,” Jihyo spoke up as she passed by the couches, wandering behind her and Junhui’s four year old son, Jisoo. Jun belonged to the Lions long before DK had ever been traded, he was a veteran in Iloa. He and his wife, a couple of high school sweethearts, welcomed you back time and time again, treating you no differently, as if no time had ever passed. Just seeing her face was relief enough.

“Hey,” you half whispered, reaching out for her. She took your hand and squeezed it, the smile lines on her cheeks accenting her stunning smile. Talia watched your hands meet, then watched the interaction, adjusting her baby on her hip. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Jihyo tossed her dark brown hair over the shoulder of her leather jacket. “It’s so much nicer seeing you. Don’t let these girls be mean to you,” she shot Daye and Halle a glare and the two turned toward one another, “She’s a baby, she’s not having any anytime soon.” Smiling back at you, she squeezed your hand once more before returning to her motherly duties. “You came down just in time, they’re picking us up any minute now.”

“How are things with Mingyu?” Daya asked, giving you another once over. “You guys conjure quite the crowd.” You didn’t like the way her eyes felt.

Shrugging, you pursed your lips and said, “Things are great. Why?”

She and Halle spoke to one another again with their eyes, then Minghao’s wife looked up at you. “Why aren’t things official, Isla?” 

Because if things become official then you end up on the couch here with these women and their babies, maybe even with a few of your own. You become a WAG, your entire identity succumbed down into just being someone's wife, someone's mother. You’d be an extension of him, of Mingyu, it’s what he wanted you to be even if he’s never explicitly said it.

But, he has.

You’re his. You’re his whether the label is there or not.

The label.

More of their questions bounced back and forth between them. ‘Has he not asked?’ ‘You have to do something, Isla, you can’t just be his pet.’ ‘I mean, what does it look like, you traveling with him to do what, party and sleep together?’ ‘We’ve seen the photos, everyone has, you guys have something-’

“It is official,” you said with a sureness that shut them up.

The words were set in stone before you had a chance to take them back. The chatter of the wives and girlfriends in the lobby filled the air and did nothing to ease the anxiety around the next news story you just created for yourself. For Mingyu. For your brother.

Exactly what he didn’t want.

Taking a deep breath, you thought to yourself, oh well.

You’d be a different type of WAG, you’d change what it meant. You would not end up here wedged between Daya and Halle, two women unable to calm their fussy babies.

Halle smirked, shaking her curls a bit. “What do you mean it is?”

Narrowing your eyes that she couldn’t see at her, you tilted your head. “He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. How much more official can it get? You want proof? Wanna see the pictures he took of us while he was in me last night?”

Daya threw her head backward with a holler of a laugh. Halle’s own jaw fell open, a scoff falling from it. Talia, eyes analyzing still, she started to smile. 

“No, you keep those to yourself,” Halle said.

Daya chimed in, “If you have any of just Mingyu let us know, though.”

Your heart would’ve shot out your chest if you weren’t so hungover. “I would,” you sighed, then started toward the doors of the hotel, “But, he’s mine!”

First one to get to the cars, recognizing your brother's driver, you beelined for the SUV and demanded he pull away and get you to the stadium before any other women could try to get into the car with you. Barely five minutes away from the hotel and twenty from the stadium, your phone buzzed from your purse, and then it buzzed again, and again. Pulling it out you sighed at the notifications polluting your screen, but weren’t surprised in the slightest.

Someone got their check.

‘BREAKING NEWS: The Lions Princess confirms her relationship with…’

It was too long to read across the screen.

‘Moon Isla and Kim Mingyu CONFIRMED!’

‘IT’S OFFICIAL!’

No matter who it was, no matter who sold the story or leaked it, you didn’t have time to feel bad for them, nor yourself. You were well off and doing better for yourself without the need to leak info to the press for a paycheck. You have a DK, and now you have a boyfriend, who doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend yet, but is about to find out he is your boyfriend and probably already did. 

Now you had to tell him in person.

And you had to swear to yourself that you were not going to become one of the WAGs.

As easy as it would be to just hand your whole life over to somebody, to follow them around, to have them take care of you for as long as they saw fit… It wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t going to be you.

The stadium in Haos couldn’t compare to the one in Iloa. Smaller, less sparkly and flashy, positioned directly in the sun, this stadium was lucky the Lions continued to come here to train for a month and a half. The tickets they sold within February and March were probably enough to fund the rest of the year for this company. 

To the Lions it was home away from home. A field to play on, a place to stay. Players like your brother saw it that way, he and a few others like Junhui, they had an appreciation for it. As long as they were throwing a baseball, running the bases, rolling in the grass, they were happy. You had few memories of this place, one of them being finally kissing Mingyu for the first time when you were eighteen and in Haos with your family for a weekend to watch the Lions play a series here. It was something short and sweet but all the more delicious. 

It was sneaky, in a hallway away from celebrations and cameras. The two of you had spent nearly the entire weekend together, talking, re-getting to know one another like most of the time like this was spent. He only kissed you after a dinner with the team, after a few drinks downed by the both of you, his liquid courage hands dancing along your neck gently before they took your cheeks and pulled you into him.

You started at Nasara that fall, though you longed to go back to that weekend every damn day of that grueling first semester. With little to no contact between you and Mingyu, it was easy to slip away from him, and you did so without even realizing it. There came a point in time where he wasn’t even a second thought, a side thought, a thought way in the back of your brain, he was just… gone.

Coming here, spending time at the stadium with the team you hoped that feeling would come back. That first feeling. The way nerves below your skin buzzed as he touched you, as he smiled at you and tipped his chin closer, whispering to you how he hopes no one turns the corner. His soft lips, his strong hands, his chiseled body you simply melted into… Everything about it screamed perfect.

Strutting over the concrete, a coffee acquired in your hand, sun blazing on your back, coaches, security, and other WAGs standing around eyeing you or trying to say hello, you ignored them and kept your head on straight, knowing he was at the end of this pathway. The stands of seats towered over your head, casting shadows onto the pavement, leading you toward the fence you so easily walked around with no one to stop you. Your feet quieted as the grass began, shade covering the green so lush you almost felt bad you were flattening it beneath your shoes.

The boys weren’t actively playing at the moment, the most activity happening that you could see was that of your brother and the Lions catcher Jihoon, or Woozi, stretching in the outfield together in their sponsored Under Armour get ups. Everyone else was wandering the dirt, chatting it up along the dugout, or checking out their gear. Few players stood in their positions from what you could see, everyone's backs to you as you approached the third base line.

“Isla!” His voice brought an instant smile to your face. He was heard before he was seen, scanning the different figures around you, you finally found him hurrying toward you, a big, goofy smile on his cheeks. Completely different than how those men on that podcast were describing him. 

A little bit sweaty, Mingyu wore a cut off Lions tank and matching black shorts, swapping his custom sneakers for a pair of old cleats that supposedly brought him luck while they trained. It wasn’t Spring Training if he didn’t have them on, no one would catch him jinxing the season before it even started. Some of his curls clung to his forehead, his skin aglow beneath the beating Haos sun.

“Change your mind, or something?” The way he scrunched his nose made you giggle. “Heard we’re dating now?” He made it in front of you finally, resting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

Pressing your lips together in a silly smile, you shrugged your shoulders and rocked on your feet. “Maybe we are.” He couldn’t tame his happiness, you were certain his cheeks would break. “Sucks I couldn’t have told you first, who’d you hear it from?”

“Hoshi.” He cocked his head backward toward the dugout. Peeking around his large frame you found the two best friends side by side leaning over the fence with their chins resting on their arms looking straight toward you and Mingyu. Hoshi, hair bleached into oblivion, and Minghao, shaggy black hair hanging down his neck. Both boys wore backwards baseball caps. “After he told me I checked to see if you said anything to me, but you didn’t.”

A pout graced your lips. “I wanted to come here and tell you, I’m sorry.”

He moved quickly, reaching out to take you by your shoulders. “No, please, don’t apologize, holy shit, Isla. If anything I’m sorry, it sucks that we can’t say anything without someone taking it and plastering it to the internet.” His thumbs drew circles over the fabric of his own t-shirt. “This mine?” He snickered.

“Yeah,” you sang, “I was in your room, Gyu. My suitcases are MIA.”

“They’re in your room,” he said as if he knew where it was.

You scoffed. “And you didn’t think to tell me where that was so I could-”

“On the other side of the hotel in one of the towers across the property by your brother.” It was all he had to say to have you both deadpanning in seconds. “Like, a mile apart.”

Laughing within a breath you leaned into him and slid an arm around his back. “Oh, agony,” you drug out, tipping your chin backward. “A mile, how ever are we going to do it?” It was too easy to make him laugh.

“DK did it on purpose,” he said quietly, bobbing his head, taking his arms around your back. “He thinks we don’t know what he does and why he does it but, it’s so obvious.” Sipping your coffee, you looked up at him and waited for more. “Does he know you were gonna do this? Today?”

Toying with the hem of his shirt you took a breath. “No, but I can tell you he definitely already knows, news travels fast around here.” The two of you spare your brother a glance, one he was returning. You’ve never seen DK mad, but you do know when his eyes have fallen upon something he doesn’t like.

“You’ll talk him down,” Mingyu nodded, gazing back down at you. “You always do, you have the magic.” 

Blinking, you turned your chin back up to him. “You could talk to him too, yanno.”

He made a face, baring his teeth, cringing. “Ah, you know how I feel about that.”

“It could potentially turn this whole thing around if you do, Gyu,” you muttered, defeat beginning to pool within you. “You want me, you gotta talk to him about it.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for your coffee cup. “I have you. Watcha got in here?” He took a swing before you could answer him, his reaction making you laugh amongst the karma.

“Black coffee,” you droned, taking the white cup back. “And sugar, because someone made me do tequila shots all night.”

Snickering, he dropped down to press a kiss to your lips, one long and slow, as if he was putting the period on the It’s Official statement. Pulling back just slightly, Mingyu mumbled, “Why don’t you substitute that sugar for vodka so we can keep going tonight?”

“Aye, Kim!” A coach called out for him, the team heading back out onto the field.

Whirling around, pulling you into his side, Mingyu waves off the batting coach and ushers you into the dugout making sure you were along the fence with a good spot to watch him hit. Along the way he whispered nonsense to you, telling you what bars you should explore tonight, where you needed to go, what food you should try, but more importantly what drinks you could get and where.

“You’re gonna kill me, Gyu,” you whispered to him after he kissed you one last time. Laughing aloud, head thrown back with vigor, he took to home plate and his persona shifted. Gone was Gyu, out came Kim Mingyu, the Lions right fielder.

Sipping from your coffee, allowing it to ease the ache in your forehead and the unease in your gut, you stood up and wandered the empty dugout. Names were written on everything, the shirts, the bats, the gloves, the mits, it was adorable, it felt like when you’d watch your brother in little league and your father etched his name into everything he owned. Dragging your feet along the ground, dirt and pebbles scraping against the concrete beneath your shoes, you took a deep breath in through your nose and let the fresh air relax you.

Maybe this was a good thing.

The familiar sound of a baseball smacking into the glove of the catcher brought you more comfort than you ever could’ve imagined. Your brother was on the mound, Woozi behind the plate, Mingyu in the batter's box. The whooshing of the bat through the air as your boyfriend acquired another strike had the batting coach calling out a few things to him. With a small smile on your lips you wandered toward the stairs to the dugout along the first base line, stepping up them to lean against the post giving you the clearest view of the field.

Hangover aside, the day was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the boys were talking and laughing with one another, there was the crack of the ball hitting the bat filling you with excitement as someone shouted in the outfield. The ball Mingyu hit was foul, traveling just over right field, but it wasn’t hit long enough for their bench player whose name you hadn’t learned yet to catch it in right field. Your neck stretched, everyones did. Mingyu ran to first base, but Seungcheol would catch it before he made it down the line.

Except Seungcheol was behind home plate with the batting coach, arms folded over his broad chest, his knee wrapped in a brace.

Whipping your head back and forth, from Seungcheol eyeing the ball, to the team, then you, he shouted a name that made your blood run cold.

“Hansol!”

Every bone in your body went stiff, every muscle froze. Neck nearly breaking, you plastered your eyes onto the boy standing behind first base and your coffee cup almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You could’ve been sick. You wanted to be sick.

Months. It’d been months.

Months of distraction, months of trying to make him go away, months of squeezing him and pushing him down into a feeling you’d only allow yourself to feel between the hours of one and three in the morning if you were any sort of sober. Even drunk, he was there, a ghost haunting your memory of what could’ve been, what you had and what you left behind. He stood here now, five foot ten, a little scrawny, a little pale. Those brown waves, they were just how you left them, fluffy, soft, inviting. His eyes, chocolate and sweet, were on you, he was looking at you, not through you, not around you, at you.

And it hurt.

Every feeling manifested into a stomach ache, a nausea so debilitating that only he would know what to do about it, like he’s done for you so many times before. The amount of times he’s held your hair, that he’s pulled it back for you. So many nights at Nasara, when he was allowed to, he would get you into your bed and make sure you’d fall asleep on your side, telling Ryujin that if either of you needed anything she could call him. He’d try to not let you drink too much, but when he couldn’t keep up with the way you’d bounce around the house he’d appear with a cup full of water and wouldn’t leave you alone until you finished it. 

He’d bring you to Blend, he’d buy you a coffee, he’d offer you breakfast, and if you refused he’d offer his shoulder and he’d let you talk. And not once would he interrupt, he’d only look away to sip his coffee, reminding you to drink some of yours between the stories you had to tell.

You’d follow him along to his practices, one of the only ones to sit in the stands, or behind home plate when he’d bat or train with his coaches gearing him up for this very moment.

When the hell did he get called up?

When the hell did the Lions get him?

Why the fuck is this the first you’re hearing of it, seeing it?

He missed the ball. It fell a few feet behind him. His teammates shouted for him, they tried to get his attention, so many shouts of a name so foreign to you only because you knew it wasn’t his favorite. He was stuck, much like you, with a thousand things to say splayed out between the two of you.

Vernon.

He was here, in Haos, playing on the same team as your brother. 

On the same team as your boyfriend. 

Holy shit, Mingyu was your boyfriend.

Mingyu was your boyfriend, words you chose to say on the same day the boy you had fallen in too far deep with appears on his baseball team.

“Hansol!”

Finally his gaze of disbelief was ripped from you, having you loose a breath you were holding. Murmurs of his voice, nothing more than a hum hit you where you were standing, a sound so incredibly comforting it had tears welling up in your eyes. You’re sure it was pleading, and apologies, and excuses for missing the easiest play for a first baseman.

He hurried toward Seungcheol and the coach, as did the team, and you hightailed it off the field while no one's eyes were on you, hurried for the closest bathroom and hid yourself in a stall, collapsing to the floor with rushed breaths, willing your heart to calm down.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[chimivx]

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

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

wc; {part four} 5.9k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers had an awful remix of a fairly popular song blasting from the speakers invisible in the room. Four walls, dark grey walls, confined you, Mingyu, his two teammates and their wives along with fifty other people within them.

Arriving here shortly after you found your seat at the dinner table again with tears brimming your eyes, you accepted Mingyu’s hand over your knee and begged him to get you out of the hotbox and into a car, into the bar, and he did. Waltzing inside with his hand around the back of your neck and his friends behind you, the bartenders cheered at your appearance and the first round was on the house.

Shot after shot, glass after glass, you danced with the five of them first, keeping up with the terrible beat the bar thought was good enough to play. The crowd on the dance floor and all within Cheers differed from the one in the restaurant, most bar crowds did. People were calmer, chiller, they greeted you and your group like you were old friends, not internet glorified household names. Drinks were bought for you, handed to you from strangers with gleaming smiles, handed to Mingyu and Hoshi and Minghao though they wouldn’t sip them but slide them into their girls hands, your hands. 

Mingyu kept a hand around your waist, pressing you to his front while your bodies moved to the music, getting lost in the occasional kiss that tasted sticky sweet after the rounds of pink starburst shots. Whispering in your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, he talked you up, wound you up, persuaded your hips to move in a way that drew more attention than you were looking for. Not a thing bothered you, the room was wavey, people took pictures of you, with you, Daya ogled your boyfriend over her husbands shoulder, but then when they spun he shot you a wink while Mingyu’s face was buried in your neck.

That was weird.

Slinging an arm around Mingyu’s back you dug your fingers into his curls and lifted his head, a wicked grin on his glistening lips. Poking your tongue out between yours, you close the air between you and inhale all of him, every push of his lips, every lap of his tongue, every groan from his chest. Mingyu was your boyfriend, you were his girlfriend. Daya and Hoshi were married, they had a baby. You were used to people looking at you, people looking at Mingyu, but they were always strangers. Too many times today had Daya shamelessly mentioned your boyfriend or looked at him like he was her prey.

“Take me home,” you said to Mingyu after the slowest pull away from him, your lips parting with resistance. “Can we leave?”

He smirked, his forehead pressed to yours while your bodies rocked. “Little bit longer, baby. You want me already?” You nodded and he pushed out a laugh. “How bad?”

Enough to get him out of this place and away from Daya, to get you away from Hoshi. Did they even know the other was flirting with the two of you behind their backs?

“Bad,” you whispered against his lips and he laughed again. “Please, can we leave?”

His name was said behind you, either Hoshi or Minghao, you couldn’t make out who it was. Mingyu lifted his head, watched as one of his friends spoke without words, then smiled and nodded. Placing his hands to your hips he moved you off of him and gestured toward the bar.

“The girls are buyin’ shots, go with them,” he said. Stumbling backward, you lowered your brows. Mingyu pointed behind you, his smile giving you enough comfort to trust him. “I’ll be right back, go with the girls. I promise, then we’ll leave.”

“Okay,” you whispered, walking backward, watching him take Minghao by the neck of his shirt, all three of them laughing with one another as they weaved through the crowd to the darker side of the bar. Turning once they disappeared behind several heads and bodies, you pushed past people trying to say things to you and followed the glow of the lights from the bar, Halle and Daya leaning over the glass chatting away with the bartender with dark wavy hair touching his shoulders.

“Party girl!” Daya shouted over her shoulder as she glanced your way, her face lighting up but her eyes remaining the same. Dark, sharp, on watch. “C’mere, you want more of that pink shit?” Wedging yourself between the girls, both of them smelling like money, you nodded and sunk into Daya’s hold as she swung her arm around your shoulder. Acrylic coffin shaped fingernails dug into your bare shoulder. “Yeah, you like the pink shit, don’t you?” Looking up at her she had her nose inches from yours.

“Be right back,” the bartender said after Halle confirmed the order with him.

Daya and her almond shaped eyes, a color so deep yet swirling with a lighter shade that added that extra spark, gazed down at you, the woman a few inches taller than you especially in her heels. Her long, slender nose was positioned perfectly in the center of her bronzed face, striking features that complimented and contrasted perfectly with the softness of her wideset, fuller lips.

Oh shit, she was pretty.

“I do like the… the pink shit,” you muttered and she smiled, her teeth a bright white, insanely straight. “Do you like the pink shit?”

She narrowed her eyes and came closer to you. “Depends who’s asking.”

Nerves flooded your veins. “Okay,” you breathed, laughing it off, wiggling around in her hold to glance at Halle who rocked to the beat of the music. “Where’d they go?” Her and her warm eyes looked over to you, her gaze less intense than Daya’s. Halle was pretty too, it was clear why she and Minghao had been together for years. She wore the same unbothered energy her husband did. “The guys?” you asked after she questioned you with a look.

“Oh, someone they know is here,” she said quickly, waving her hand in the direction they walked off in as if to tell you to ignore it. “They were suffocating anyway, we have to be stuck here all month with them, we girls need to stick together.” The bartender came back and slid several shots full of sparkling pink in front of the three of you. “This rounds on me, ladies.”

With Daya’s arm still around you, you looked back at her. “Where’s your kids?” you asked, shifting your gaze between them both as they took one of the shots.

Daya licked her lips and smacked the glass down on the bar. “Who knows.”

“We have nannies,” Halle scoffed, shooting a glare at her friend. “They’re asleep at the hotel, in good hands.”

A smirk pricked your lips. “You have a baby and you don’t care about her?” The way Daya looked at you made you want to laugh aloud, but you kept it within you. Halle’s eyes shot open so wide she had to turn away for a few seconds.

“Yes I do,” Daya said, a little harshly. “Take your shots, princess, I know you can drink more than this.” Giving her a smile that made her hand tighten on your shoulder, you took each shot like it was nothing, three of them right in a row, faster than Halle or Daya. “There we go,” she snickered, waving the bartender down to your end. “More of whatever the fuck this was.”

Blurrier, louder, more exciting. With each round the atmosphere in the bar fueled the energy within you, it pulled you back onto the dance floor with the girls, the three of you holding hands dancing and singing along to the music you once hated but now adored. You invited other girls into your circle, dancing with them while they opened their phone cameras and snapped selfies and videos, talking to you like they knew you, because they did. Boys tried to talk to you too, and you entertained it, but never let get any further than dancing beside you. Your boy was here somewhere, with someone, doing who knows what. 

The second your brain remembered him you wanted nothing else. His hands, his lips, his body, his everything.

Whirling around in a circle, searching each corner, each group of people bobbing up and down in the lights, you found him by the hall to the bathrooms lounging in one of the booths with Hoshi and Minghao sitting on the seats in the other. Mingyu had a leg stretched over the cushion and his back pressed to the wall with his head knocked back. The three spoke close together, their heads nodding a bit, their eyes telling stories you weren’t sure you wanted to know about.

The three buttons undone on his shirt called to you. His hair pushed back from his forehead pulled you in. Wandering away from your group on the dance floor you followed the siren call that was simply his energy, his aura, his appearance. He clocked you halfway, a devilish smirk lighting up his lips as he watched you sway.

“Hey baby,” he said once your knees hit the booth cushion. Crawling over his leg and onto his lap, you straddled his waist and moved with him as he placed both feet to the floor and his back to the booth. Sliding your arms around his neck you pressed your chest to his and locked your lips together, not wasting any time and working them over his cheek, across his jaw, and down his neck. “See, she likes me now,” he said to Hoshi and Minghao, the three of them sharing a knowing laugh, one that didn’t bother you in the moment. Hands moving to your waist, Mingyu held you still over his lap, stopping you from grinding on top of him like you were beginning to. “Yeah, we’re out of here soon,” he said to his friends that left for their own wives amidst a conversation you couldn’t keep up with, too drunk on warm, smooth, golden skin to care.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, finding his lips.

“Isla,” he whispered back, big hands smoothing over your exposed thighs, mini skirt riding higher than it should be right now. “Having fun?” He caught your lips in a quick kiss.

“Yes,” you breathed within the shared air.

He half smirked, sliding his hands over the curve of your ass. “You like it here? Seems like you do.” 

“I do,” you nodded, “No one’s bothering me now.”

Mingyu curled his brow. “Us? Or, other people?”

“Other people,” you said without a second thought and kissed him. He let it go on for a minute or so, pulling away when your tongue drug along his teeth. 

“You don’t like other people talking to you?” he asked, tightening his grip on your hips that longed to move. The music, the intoxication, his body, you wanted something, you wanted him.

“Not while I’m trying to do this.” Wiggling your hips, or trying to, he laughed, then he released his hold and let you have your way with him. Grinding down on his length half hard in his pants, you sighed and caught him in a sloppy kiss. He took his hands to the back of your neck, pressing his thumbs into the sides creating some sort of pressure to make you groan. You weren’t sure how long you spent lost in him, enough to build up pressure within you.

“Let me ask you a question, baby,” he said and you whined.

“No, just kiss me.”

“No, no,” he snickered, yanking you backward, wrapping a hand around the bun in your hair. “Hang on.” Trying to lean forward, tongue lolling out from your lips, he smiled and shook his head. “Tonight at dinner,” he said, pausing, taking a second to study your face. “Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me, I’m nervous, even more now that you’re mine…”

Your heart beat steadily between your lungs. “Tell me. What happened?”

Mingyu pulled his lips between his teeth and blinked a few times. Releasing a breath through a laugh, he asked, “What’s the thing with Hansol?” Your stomach did a cartwheel, every shot in your system making itself known. “I just… I wanna make sure you’re okay, you were looking at him, he was looking at you…”

A gulp betrayed you, one Mingyu picked up on. “He was looking at me?”

Maintaining face, Mingyu analyzed yours. “Yeah, he was, he couldn’t stop.” You tried your best to withhold every emotion this made you feel. He was looking at you, too. When? When you weren’t looking at him? Which was when? You barely drank at dinner, you wouldn’t have missed it. “And then, it made me think of what happened at practice today, so…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you whispered. Attempting to lean forward, he held you back.

“So you do know him,” he said.

“I- Yeah,” you shrugged, “He went to Nasara at the same time as me.”

He was quiet, then his smile grew. “Of course he did.”

“Leave it alone,” you said, trying to kiss him again.

“No, c’mon,” he laughed, taking his other hand to your waist where it had been, holding you down. “Tell me, baby. What did my baseball player loving girlfriend do with him in college?”

Whining, wriggling in his grasp, you said, “I don’t want to talk about him.” Pausing, you played back his words and pouted. “And I am not a baseball player lover.”

“Oh, baby,” he smirked. “I beg to differ.” All of your defense fell. Dropping your hands into your lap you sat back on his thighs and slouched your shoulders. “You guys were friends?”

“Mingyu, stop,” you whispered without much fight left in you. Even a shake of your head, the pleading of your eyes wouldn’t shut him up. He stared back at you, his eyes taking in every microexpression.

“What,” he began, and his eyes narrowed, like your thoughts were plastered onto your forehead. “Did you guys sleep together or something?” Your throat tightened. Every limb on your body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Gyu- We- Just, leave it alone.”

Weak.

His face lit up with something you’ve never seen before. “Ohhoho… Okay, sure.” Wrapping his arms around your back he moved off the cushion of the booth, relishing in how you clung to him for balance before he got you on your feet. His hands held onto you with a power that both excited you and frightened you. You’ve never experienced jealous Mingyu. “We’re out of here.”

It went by in a blur, him moving you from the bar to the hotel and up into his room where the clothes you wore hit the floor in seconds. In the dark his hands were on you, touching you, squeezing you, pleasuring you, making you feel so good, too good, and he still wore all his clothes. Face buried in your chest, lips wrapping around the delicate skin leaving purple marks in their wake while his fingers worked within you, drawing you to the edge too many times and he still wore all his clothes.

You didn’t have any extra breath to give him, to ask him to take them off, you couldn’t say anything but his name, which was what he wanted. His other hand clamped to your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks so tight your lips stayed parted for him to kiss, nip at, spit into. He worked you dumb, your world entirely too blurry, too fuzzy to tell him to slow down, but you didn’t want him to. 

It was Mingyu. All him. You couldn’t think about anything else.

Just the way he wanted you.

It wasn’t until his head was between your thighs that you could finally utter something other than Mingyu. “Inside, Gyu,” you whispered, fingers clawing at his curls so tight he was groaning against you. “Please, please, need you in me.”

Letting go of your thighs he stood with a smile and took his hands to his belt buckle after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Smiling down at you, eyes heavy and full of lust, he asked, “Condom?”

Unable to move, you blinked up at him and tried to shake your head. “I don’ care.”

“Oh, my pretty girl,” he groaned, shoving his pants to the floor, kicking them away. Grabbing your ankles he pulled you closer and sunk into you, a delicious moan pouring from both of you. “Never let me hit it raw,” he groaned, taking his time with a few strokes. “Who’s fuckin’ you, baby?”

Clawing at the sheets, you writhed beneath him and choked out, “You, Mingyu, you are.” He pushed your knees backward and laid over top of you, pistoling his hips into yours.

“Say it again.”

Lips caressed your cheek, stirring you awake.

Deja vu.

The sun, the curtains, the bedding, the nakedness, the sore body, the hangover.

Except now Mingyu was crouched beside you dressed for training.

“Hi,” he whispered, his cheeks full of joy. Taking a breath, you couldn’t do anything but blink at him. “I got you a coffee already,” he said, resting his chin on the mattress. Taking a hand to your cheek he drug his thumb beneath your bottom lashes. “Come today. I want you in the stands.” A smile found his lips. “Our first season together, I wanna start it right.” He waited for you to answer but recognized he wasn’t going to get one. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you in a bit, I’ll have a car waiting for you.”

He left so fast you didn’t even hear the door close. You couldn’t put two senses together.

Another day, another hangover.

You felt like dogshit.

Taking your time to sit up, knowing this time you really felt like you could be sick, when you peeled the sheets back and caught a glimpse of your body you groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. He made a mess of you. Hickeys littered your chest, hopefully not your neck, and the insides of your thighs. You’re certain the tiny blue marks in a rounded line on your hips were from his fingers, he had you flipped every which way last night you supposed.

You barely remembered it.

But you remembered Vernon.

The way he looked at you, how he brushed you away, when you told you he loved you.

As in past tense.

It brought you a brand new physical pain you’ve never experienced, one lodged between your lungs, pulling on your heart. A hole punched there, a wound so big you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do about it. You could drink it away, have Mingyu fuck it away, but clearly it’d come right back when neither of those things were happening.

“Did you even read any of the messages I sent you at the end of last year?”

Every single one.

He was the first to message you, the first to call you, to try to get a hold of you while you cried in DK’s backseat. For days he sent little anecdotes of care, asking you if you were alright, hoping and wishing that you were safe, that you weren’t being too hard on yourself. He sent a long text the day after the dinner ITZ and ATZ shared, and he was angry. He found out you were with DK, that you left school, but he wasn’t angry with you. He was angry with Yeji, the president, for keeping your absence a weird secret from everyone, not telling anybody that you were leaving, that you withdrew from school completely.

The messages to follow were of shorter stature, and they came less frequently. Each one, between the lines, you could feel what he was feeling. Sometimes he’d call you, or try to, without it accompanying a message, hoping that maybe you’d pick up if he rang. He constantly wished you well with each text, encouraged you to do better, that he knew you would be okay, that DK would help, that you should do whatever he tells you and follow your big brother's advice.

The last one he ever sent, right around Christmas, a week before the first story of you and Mingyu erupted, he shared some words that would forever strangle you completely. Mentions of you meaning the world to him, or something, and him saying he hopes he’ll see you soon, that you’re his best friend and he has so much to tell you.

It haunts you, that message.

You should’ve answered it. That should’ve been the moment you called him.

But Mingyu had just bought you diamond earrings for Christmas. You opened them Christmas morning with both your families watching, the group of you lounging in the living room of the Kim’s mountain cabin surrounded by mile high trees, snow, and mugs of hot chocolate, the place fit to house several families at once.

You should’ve answered it.

“That’s all you got?!” you shouted, your voice echoing onto the field over Vernons head from where you sat behind home plate. Leaning against the barricade you watched him swing, just missing the ball. Dropping the bat to the dirt he flashed you a look over his shoulder, his smile teasing his lips, and started to unstrap his gloves. His coach gathered the things on the mound and began straightening up the field.

“I told you to heckle, not to be mean,” he breathed, making a face.

You pouted and he laughed. “Did I hurt your feelings, Nonie?”

“Ew,” he spat. “Don’t call me that. My little cousins call me that.” Lifting his hands over his head he stretched and groaned, leaning side to side. 

“Fine,” you sighed. His eyes shut, his brows flatlining above them. Leaving your seat you wandered through the stands and hopped into the dugout, taking yourself out onto the field to meet him where he stood. “Where’s it hurt?”

Vernon brought his arms to his side slowly, looking at you like he was trying to keep his discomfort hidden. “Everywhere,” he whispered, and you let out a laugh together. Reaching for his arms you unstrapped everything else he had on him, and he watched, quietly.

“Come on,” you said, shoving his gear into your arms. Dropping to the ground you picked up his bat and nodded your head. “Where do these go?” Massaging his own elbows he took in the sight of you carrying all of his things and took a deep breath.

“Uh,” he stammered, “Locker room. My bags are in there.”

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, and started for the dugout and the stairs that awaited you there.

“Hansol,” his coach called out, stopping you both. The man eyed you, then Vernon. “Good work today, I’ll see you here same time tomorrow.”

Vernon nodded once. “Same time tomorrow.” When he turned to you he furrowed his brows and held up a finger, stopping your thoughts that longed to come out of your mouth. “You leave him alone,” he said, passing by you.

“You need a break,” you said, following him down into the dugout and through the door into the locker room. Showers lined one wall, double stacked lockers lined the other. It was a smaller space, definitely smaller than the locker rooms at Lions Stadium in Iloa, but it was good enough for Vernon and his team.

He took to his locker and pulled it open, waving you to his side. “I don’t,” he said with a smile, taking some of his things from your arms. “I’m fine.” Gloves, gear, straps, buckles, it all went into his locker. The only thing left in your hands was his bat, a sleek black with a silver V etched into the top in a stunning font.

“You just told me everything hurts,” you said, stepping closer to him, leaning against the cool metal of the Nasara blue lockers. He copied you, thinning his lips, facing you. A few inches lived between the two of you. “You wanted me to break your hand-”

“It was a joke, Iya, I just-”

You closed the space, your middle touching his, the tips of your toes meeting. “I don’t find it very funny.” He dropped his gaze down, looking between you. “What are they working you like this for? Where’s your team? Why are you alone?”

Vernon nibbled his bottom lip and hit you with a subtle shrug before he met your eyes. “I dunno, I was… I was hoping it was, yanno, good things, but Coach has me doing the same stuff over and over. He won’t even tell me why we’re doing what we’re doing, I think I’m,” his voice trailed off as his eyebrows scrunched together, “Think I’m not doing as well as I thought I was.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, reaching for one of his hands, toying with the roughness of his fingers, his palm. He looked down at it and tried to smile. “He just told you you did great.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “To keep me coming back.” When he met your eyes, his gaze shattered your heart. “This is the part where guys start to give up. I’m a senior, well over the age a lot of guys in the MLB were when they were drafted and signed, if it doesn’t happen soon, I…”

“It will,” you whispered. Letting go of his hand you drug your fingers up his arm and gently dug your fingers into his muscle. His eyes fluttered shut with the quietest groan. The muscle was hard, full of knots, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. “Come here,” you whispered, moving him to the wide bench along the length of the lockers. “Sit down.” Placing him on the edge, you straddled the bench behind him, your thighs framing his hips. “You can keep talking to me, just let me do this.”

“Do wha- Oh my god,” he groaned the second your thumbs dug into his shoulders. A breathless laugh tumbled from your lips. “I don’t think I- Oh, god.” His head tipped backward. “Is this what they teach you in- in class?”

Popping your brows, working your fingers harder, deeper into the tissue, you said, “Kinda. On days when I can pay attention.” He groaned, lips shut, the sound emitting deep from his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, ignoring the way every groan made your heart feel, you took your hands down his knotty back and worked them there over his sleeveless shirt. “Did you know, these muscles back here, if you don’t take care of them, they could cost you your career?”

Vernon took a breath between grunts and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “That’s your job, the therapist tells me what to- fuck, tells me what to work on- H’mygod.”

Leaning forward, pressing your chest to his back, you whispered in his ear and a shiver ran down his spine, one you could feel in the tips of your fingers. “That feel good?”

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Don’t say that right now.”

You smiled. “Why not?”

“Because,” he pushed from his lips fast. “Just keep… Keep going.”

“But, does it-”

“Yes, Iya,” he hissed. “It feels good.”

You wished you were in front of him, in both places at once, you wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he looked like while he groaned and melted into your touch. Taking your hands all over his back, taking your time in places tighter than others, his exhausted self didn’t hold back, he told you what was good, what needed more, where he needed you, where he wanted you. Your heart pounded in your chest, you prayed he couldn’t feel it with how he leaned against you now, your fingers rubbing into his neck, toward his jaw. He rested his head on your shoulder, his eyes closed, his breath hitching in his chest with every sound that came out of him.

“Noisy boy,” you whispered, slowing your fingers that were starting to get achey. Keeping them on his shoulders, he blinked open his eyes and turned his head to look at you, his entire being relaxed, sleepy. Your thighs hugged his body, his waist, he fit perfectly between your legs.

“You’re good at that, I can’t help it,” he whispered. He must’ve realized how he was sitting, splayed back on you like you held onto his consciousness through your ministrations of his body, because he tried to sit up, his body moving slow, heavy. 

You kept him in place, holding him back, keeping him pressed to you. Giving you a look, his brows showing the slightest bit of pure curiosity, you took a breath and slid your hands down his chest keeping your eyes locked on his. Placing them right over his heart, you paused, and waited.

Then you felt it.

His heart beat in time with yours, racing faster than it should be for what you were just doing to him. Shifting, trying to move, Vernon hummed his disapproval of what you were feeling. The smallest smile graced your lips.

“No,” he whispered, smiling with you. “You started it, I felt yours first.”

Flickering your eyes to his parted lips, you held your breath and looked back at his hooded gaze. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please,” he whispered.

Taking a hand to his curls, leaving the other over his heart, you dipped your chin down and altered the relationship you shared with him forever. His lips, soft, a little shy, met yours and he sucked in a breath, his heart beating quicker, heavier. A single breath between parted lips was like a switch flipped, in seconds his energy came back and he was pulling you off the bench and onto his lap, helping you straddle his waist comfortably on the wood beneath him.

With your hands on his jaw you kept his head tipped upward, not wanting to waste a second without his lips on yours. Your body melted into his with his arms around your back, his fingertips pressing you closer, holding you tight, yet ever so gently. The way you responded to one another, your bodies, your breath, it was unlike anything you’ve ever shared with anyone else. In just a few heated kisses a warmth filled your being, tangled with your veins, your heart, pooling in your center telling you that this was it.

It was Vernon. This was it, everything you’d ever need.

As much as it terrified you, you'd never felt more sure about anything, god, you felt like you could cry, like so much was pent up within you, so many things you’ve teased him with, teased each other with, but deep down knew was horrifically true.

Without thinking you rolled your hips against him and felt him smile into your kiss. Hands with a mind of their own, they scrambled for the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, two blushing smiles meeting in the middle all over again once it hit the floor. Kissing you, long and slow, his hands took their time dropping the hoodie from your shoulders, the grey cotton meeting his shirt where it was dropped. Lips ghosting each other, he brushed his nose over yours, shivering as your fingers danced down his bare chest and tugged at the strap of the shorts he wore that made it so painfully obvious what he wanted.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper, his smile never seeming to leave his face.

Rolling your hips a bit, you smirked as a breath corrupted his lungs. “Finishing what you started,” you whispered, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Can I take these off?”

Vernon breathed through a laugh. “Yeah, you’ve seen it before.”

“Right,” you giggled and tugged at the elastic. “Can I taste it?”

His hips pushed up beneath you as another breath shot through him. “You, fu- Iya, hang on,” he rambled on as you giggled and worked him out of his shorts. “If you- If you do, I won’t be able to- fuck.” Straddling his waist again you wrapped a hand around the bottom of his length, smiling as you gave him a good squeeze.

Leaning into him you caught his lips in a kiss. “You grower,” you teased, and he tried to laugh with you. “Holy shit, V. Can I…”

Steadying his breath, or trying to, he narrowed his eyes. “Can you, what?” he asked, tilting his chin just to brush his lips over yours, not even to kiss you. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

Kissing him, a soft whine was muffled by his lips, his tongue slipping between your lips this time. Moving off of him, your lips the last thing to leave him, he watched you where he sat, chest rising with each breath he took. Fingers finding the zipper of your mini skirt, Vernon reached forward and shook his head, wrapping his arms around your waist, slotting you between his legs. Looking up at you, he took you out of your skirt, then pushed up the hem of your tank, pressing kisses to the skin above the thin stretch of lace waiting for him beneath the denim.

“That skirt makes me crazy by the way,” he whispered, both of you laughing. Pressing his nose to your skin, his fingers curled over the lace and pushed it down your thighs, his lips worshiping this unexplored part of your body. Big brown eyes gazed up at you and you couldn’t take anymore. With a smile you leapt on top of him, tangling your fingers in his hair, engulfing his lips with yours. Reaching between your bodies you wrapped a hand around him and parted from him to rise to your knees, but his hands latched onto your shoulders, both worry and disappointment in his eyes. “Iya, Iya, wait,” he whispered, mentally kicking himself. “Are we not gonna… Do you want me to… I don’t- I don’t have anything here, or on me.”

You admired his worry, you smiled at him, reassuring him with a kiss. “I’ve seen you make double plays,” you whispered and his eyes softened. “I trust your sense of timing.” Before he could say anything else, protest about your safety like you knew he would want to, like you’ve been doing to him for weeks, the hypocrite, you kissed him, and you sunk down on him, moaning into his mouth at the stretch and how his hands gripping onto your hips in a hurry, his fingers digging into your skin.

Neither of you moved, for several seconds, maybe minutes, you held onto one another, pressed chest to chest, sharing nothing but the laziest kisses and labored breaths. He was the first to move, flipping you over to your back, the wood cold against your skin making you gasp.

“No, come on,” you whispered, half a laugh coming out with it. “Let me take care of you.”

Vernon smiled, pressing his lips to your cheek and down your jaw. With the slowest push of his hips your jaw fell open and he caught your parted lips in a kiss. “You already did that,” he whispered, lowering himself on top of you, “My turn.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[chimivx]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About?”

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

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

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

Ryujin blinked. “Yes!”

“How!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hoped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You inspire her.

Positive influence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unread.

Maybe even unopened.

Possibly deleted.

At least you weren’t blocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah,” you said way too fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isla!”

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

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

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

“I’m not here with anybody, so…”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are your plans later?”

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

“Yes,” you whispered.

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

“Can I come with you?”

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

The thought of doing anything else nauseated you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tonight?” he asked, tone growing snarky.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would never get old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, not in the WAG way.

Never in the WAG way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Patience,” Melody said.

“Understanding,” Woozi smiled, making her smile.

“Communication,” Melody whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

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

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

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

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

“Anything?” you asked, tone short.

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

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

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

[thirteen<3]: I miss you already

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[you:] I’m here. Are you having fun?

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

[thirteen<3]: Daya keeps requesting awful songs

[you]: Where’s Hoshi?

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

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

[thirteen<3]: He doesnt like to dance

[you]: Who are you dancing with

[thirteen<3]: Daya!!

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

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

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

“Please,” you mumbled.

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

It all clicked at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One led to five fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you trying to forget?”

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

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

“There was,” you said. “There is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon smiled. “I know.”

You never looked at him faster. “What?”

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

“Why would she tell you anything!?”

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

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

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

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[chimivx]

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

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

wc; {part one} 6.6k ~ { rec'd to start here <3 } warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; Isla's story is here <3 please enjoy <3

A black box hole in the wall full of sweaty people from age eighteen to fifty seven with drinks or their hands or their arms in the air, every other face knowing yours.

In the middle of the dance floor, the flashing lights above you showering you in hues of blue and pink, you spun in circles, in and out of the hold of a random girl you met that night or a guy who was hoping to take you home. The space was tight, bodies were pressed together so that it didn’t matter who you came with that night, you’d be grinding against strangers whether you wanted to or not.

Many drinks deep, none of it seemed to matter.

The girl you ended up with held onto your hands, swinging them about, singing along to the pop song that poured from the speakers, the music just loud enough to shout over. She had to be no younger than you, twentyish, wearing a denim skirt and bodysuit, her longer, curly brown hair laying down her back. Mocha skin so sweet you longed to drag your tongue along her jaw, she was stunning, and just as drunk as you were.

Simply feeling the vibe, the world blurry, you let her run her hands down your hips as you both moved to the music, her acrylic fingernails tugging at the hem of your loose fitted dress you tossed on for the night. Flipping your hair over your shoulder, a fresh blow out from before you left the house that had you feeling sorry for the stylist because you knew you’d sweat it out within an hour of being here, and you did, you threw your arms around her broad shoulders and closed the space between your bodies.

Inches taller than you she flashed you her sparkling smile and cradled her hands around your waist, pressing her forehead to yours. Having to bend at her neck, she smiled down at you, the gentlest chuckle tumbling from her lips.

“Didn’t take Lee Isla as a spicy straight,” she said over the music, and it made you throw your head back with a laugh of disbelief.

Tugging her closer so your chest was pressed to hers, you touched noses and said, “It’s Moon Isla, and she’s bi, thank you very much,” through a smirk before dragging your tongue over her lips, slipping it between her teeth.

You didn’t get to kiss her long, but you enjoyed every second of the five minutes spent without a breath to spare. Arms stronger than your own wrapped around your waist, just over the girls, muscled and toned. Lifting you off the floor and out of her grip, your lover of a half hour bid you farewell with a smile, laughing as you were carried off of the dance floor, kicking your legs in protest. 

“Put me down!” 

The arms that held you laughed, the rock hard chest you were pressed against moved with you, the boy carrying you so effortlessly, like it cost him no energy. Through the crowd of people, eyes gazing up at you like you were some sort of icon, and unfortunately you were, their princess, you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face as disappointed as you were to be torn from the babe on the dance floor. He sat you down on a barstool, one soft and cushioned with purple velvet, the fabric caressing the skin of your thigh exposed beneath your dress.

“Mingyu,” you whined, looking up at the honey skinned, curly haired muscle mass of a man that planted one hand on the bar and the other around your back. Snickering to himself, he took the hand around your back and used it to grab your chin, tilting your head further back. “She was hot.”

He quirked a brow. “And I’m not?” Several people who passed by let their eyes linger on the boy bigger than all the boys you’ve ever known. He was bigger than Seonghwa, no, bigger than Yunho- two boys you knew once upon a time. Two boys who you haven’t heard from in months.

Letting your eyes drop, fawning over his stretch of a frame, you took your lip between your teeth and nodded. Dressed in jeans and a white loose fitted button down, one side tucked into his leather belt, he was hot. Mingyu has always been hot. A chain hung around his neck, peeking out from the three buttons he left undone of his shirt, matching the jewelry that hung on his wrists, everything surely costing him thousands of dollars, including the cologne that clouded the delicious skin of his golden chest inviting you to drag your fingers over it.

Thank you fifty million dollar salary.

A custom pair of Nike’s lived on his feet, striped with red and black with the number thirteen detailed on them, his number. The white of the shoes matched the white of his shirt, it was very Mingyu. Always put together, always a vision, almost always professional.

Except when it came to you.

Barely whispering the words, “You are,” to him, his eager smirk closed the space between you and kissed you, one hungry, yet satisfied. Taking your arms around his back, you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, a laugh tumbling from his chest into your parted lips.

People around you, people that were paying attention to the two of you that you paid no mind to, they were cheering, encouraging you, shoving their flashes from their phones into your faces, surrounding you, calling your names. Isla and Mingyu, Mingyu and Isla. The two of you, your faces were plastered to drama sites online, every other post on pop culture Instagram accounts. Your name was dropped within every interview Mingyu gave to the public, on news channels or local media, where he’d answer with a bashful smile, a shrug and a slick, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

He got the easy questions, the cute ones that made the reporters smile and laugh with remorse as Mingyu tried to move on from the subject, though he’d play it up only to gather more attention. When caught in interview crossfire you dealt with the sleazy questions, the exact ones that women were forced to answer before they began to revolt, shoving insults back in the reporters faces. Those were the kinds of questions you were thrown.

How does it feel to be dating the most famous right fielder in baseball?

Does Mingyu know you’re out right now? What would he say if he caught you here?

Is this outfit Mingyu approved? What does your brother have to say about your relationship with his teammate? Surely it can’t feel too good for him to know one of his friends is hooking up with his sister.

Damn them all.

It’s why you played this part up. Unhooking your hands from around his back you shoved them into his hair, your fingers tangling with the curls that grew longer each day. They were long enough now to poke out of the bottom of his hat when he’d play out on the field, you adored it. The black wispy twirls would brush over his eyes, his lashes, but he wouldn’t allow them to.

You wished he would.

Curls touching his lashes, curls that would touch your lashes, ones that’d brush your forehead, tickle your skin if he got too close. Curls that would frame sweet chocolate eyes swirling with caramel, eyes that’d linger on you while you skipped down a dimly lit hallway fitted with a dark red rug atop dark hardwood floors, elbow in elbow with one of your sisters while music blasted in the room next door drawing you toward it like a moth to a flame…

Parting from him with a smack, you tightened your fingers in his fluffy mess and pressed your foreheads together. Flashes still lit up around you like clockwork, people still called your name, his name, shouting incoherent things you’d be able to pick up when you watched all of these videos back tomorrow morning in a hungover daze. Closing your eyes, breathing him in, you started to smile.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asked, pushing his chin forward to press a kiss to your cheek. Opening your eyes, giving him a look, he snickered and wrapped an arm around your waist, nearly holding you on his hips as he yanked you from the stool, held you close, and weaved you through the crowd, through the crowded club, and onto the streets of Iloa, a big, broad city stretching across the most northern part of Casa.

Compact with streets and buildings alike, Iloa compared to Delo, a city you’ve spent ample time in, but it wasn’t as busy in the slightest. In Iloa people moved like they were always in a rush, like they had someplace to be at all times, no one ever slowed down. Home to major businesses, major companies that kept the majority of all towns and cities going, Iloa was the hub, the most important city to date.

It was also the home of the Iloa Lion’s. 

One of the greatest teams in Major League Baseball, the team to hit wild records and create their own. They’ve made history more than once, throughout the existence of the entire organization dating back to the early 1900’s. They were good, they were a little cocky, but this past year, at the end of the last season, their world was rocked.

Choi Seungcheol, their star studded first basemen, one homegrown in Iloa, tore his ACL at the beginning of September just weeks before the team had a chance to clinch their well deserved spot in the playoffs. Already a rocky season, players on leave to have babies, players coming off of strained muscles and sprained ligaments throughout spring training, players being placed on the injured list left and right throughout the summer… The team took a hard hit, and with Seungcheol’s major injury taking him out of the season indefinitely, they were screwed and they knew it.

Their backup first baseman couldn’t cut it. Even with their coach moving all their positions around, scrambling the outfield, Mingyu having to play center field while Soonyoung, or Hoshi as the fans would call him, had to play shortstop because Minghao, coined The8, had to play third base because Seungkwan had to play first base. Everyone played a different position every single game and they crumbled. Not entirely, you would grumble at the broadcasts and fans online glowering in the Lions downfall, but all they did was miss the Wildcard playoffs by one measly game they lost by a single point.

It sucked. Your brother made the playoffs every year since he entered the MLB, he was the Lions saving grace, every game he played. He was the personality in the locker room, he kept the team together, he was the glue, he was Casa’s sweetheart, the entire state adored him. From Ilona all the way down to the beaches of Haos, DK was a household name.

Lee Seokmin.

Dokyeom.

DK.

He was the face of hope, the sunshine, the kindhearted, humble beast of all baseball. A pitching god who changed what it meant to be a designated hitter for their hometeam. The Lions would DH him amidst his three game pitching break. Your brother could throw a hundred pitches and finish the game in a shutout. He’s had several no hitters, an insane amount of shutouts, and the most wins for any starting pitcher in the MLB. His team had his back as much as he had theirs.

Now with the season quickly approaching, the team preparing to fly to Haos for spring training, DK was ready to bring that trophy back home in October. He’d take his team there this year, his sights were set on the playoffs like he announced after the game they lost at the end of September.

“You know, you win, you lose, what matters is what you do with it. We lost, but we got hit hard this month. All we can hope is that Cheol has a fast, but necessary recovery, that he takes all the time he needs so we can have him back in the cages with us in March, but until then we all need to put in work. I hope my team knows that we tried our best, we did what we could with what we were given, but the Bull’s were better. We’ll be back next year, I know we will. I’m disappointed for sure, but I’m going to get some much needed family time started early this offseason. We’ll be back.”

That much needed family time was being spent the same as it always was.

You on top of Mingyu in the backseat of his Rolls Royce while his driver speeds you away to his penthouse a half hour away from the Lions stadium, and fifteen minutes from the club you tumbled out of. The time was spent latched to the boys front, tugging at his hair, lips devouring lips, teeth clashing, skin biting, until you were at his place and he nearly carried you inside away from the camera flashes awaiting you there, stumbled into the elevator, pressed you to the wall and slipped a hand between your legs toying with you until the door slid open.

LIfting you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, he carried you through his spacey halls with portraits of the team and himself along the walls, his decadence hanging around commemorating his success and all of his achievements. Taking you into his bedroom, a room with the darkest blue walls and furniture made of the cleanest, darkest wood, he laid you flat on your back, but not before he slipped your dress over your head with a happy hum as he found barely anything beneath it. 

The time was spent well, you’d say. Mingyu marking your skin, using you as his own, taking you to the peak of highest pleasure again, and again, and again, as many times as you’d allow him to do so. For hours on end you’d be here, or his plush couch in the living room, or the kitchen counters, or the bathtub with jets along the wall with floor length windows, or the stand in shower big enough for four people, or against the door, or his backseat where it’d start all over again.

You left Delo, not on your own accord, but by force. Much needed family time, it made you laugh at the television when you’d seen it. You haven’t seen your parents in months, and DK only showed face in times like this, when his own success faltered. So, you left the city you were falling in love in- you mean with- you were shipped up to Iloa with your brother who moved you into his place, and you immediately sought out a distraction, but this distraction found you.

You’ve known of Mingyu, Mingyu has known of you. Both of you public figures somehow in your own ways, it was hard not to. Mingyu’s been on the Lions as long as DK has, though Mingyu came up through the organization like Seungcheol, and your brother was traded to the team because his first year in the MLB on the Cyclones didn’t cut it. That manager, to this day, will still mumble his regrets over losing your brother, how he gave him up before he even gave him a chance.

The two became friends, Mingyu and your brother, two newbies starting the same year, young, bright eyed, excited. You’ll never forget that first game, you were around sixteen years old, your brother a baby himself, just eighteen and the Lions newest starting pitcher. Mingyu, sharing an age with your brother, joined him in the postgame interview, both boys questioned on what it felt like starting in, and winning their first MLB game here at home in Iloa.

Mingyu and his family joined yours in celebration that night, after the team held something celebratory of their own for one another and their two outstanding rookies. It didn’t take long at all for your families to mesh, your father, a baseball player himself, one who played for the Cyclones for the entirety of his twenties, knew how to make and keep friends. He also drew a crowd wherever he went, as did your mother, the author of a six book series that exploded ten years ago after her debut novel had been published. There were now talks of her series becoming a movie, six, seven or eight films long, with whispers of prestigious actors being cast as the characters she’s created.

His family became friends quickly, Mingyu’s parents of wealthy status as well finding it easy to fit into the life your parents were given, or, well, created, you supposed, in some way. Your parents and his, they spent weekends flying around to different countries, spending time at their homes on the beach in Haos, dining at places in Iloa and visiting the Cyclones stadium which made your brother uncomfortable. When they weren’t shopping they were on a plane. When they weren’t eating small portioned meals at extraordinary prices they were sipping wine on coasts or yachts.

When you weren’t at home with your brother now, you were here in Mingyu’s bed. When you weren’t intrigued by the dinner your parents bought everyone that very first night, you were happily distracted by Mingyu’s ankles that nudged yours beneath the marble table.

Sixteen and eighteen, two ages full of different levels and reasoning of excitement.

That night he left you with nothing more than a quick wink, having said but two words to you within all the hours spent together.

Since then there were years of getting to know one another through events at the ballpark and your attendance at games, until you turned eighteen and the messaging started through Instagram till he got around to getting your number. It all grew into mindless flirting, teasing, an unspoken thing between the two of you, a baseball player with a name on everyone's lips and a socialite who wouldn’t even call herself a socialite, but the sister of one of his closest friends who just so happened to have visibility through him and her parents.

Mingyu didn’t care though, at least, it didn’t seem like it. DK never came up in conversation, he asked you questions about yourself, he wanted to know what went on in Isla’s brain, not anyone else's. He didn’t chalk up your relationship existing because of who your family was or where you came from, he liked you for you. And even though most nights you laid wide awake with heavy breath heaving from your lips, a hand shoved between your thighs with another boy on your mind, you figured you probably liked him too, your distraction.

DK’s ceilings stretched fifteen feet high from the foyer all the way into the kitchen and dining rooms, then they opened up above the living room, the sitting room, the bar, a stifling thirty feet above one's head. Each bathroom was adequate, normal ceilings for a normal room, unless you were in any of the seven on the second floor, then they towered up to the skylights one could admire the sun or stars out of while lying in any of the jacuzzi tubs. The five on the first floor were only blessed with twelve feet of height, but each bidet was certainly a treat.

The front door, garage door, and backdoor were all made of the same heavy oak wood, stained the deepest black standing out along the stark white walls on the outside of his home. Windows of the same style, some stood tall from floor to fifteen foot ceiling while others rounded out and grew smaller, picky about how much sunlight they’d let leak into certain rooms. Floors of marble, the finest hardwood, stunning stones, each room was different, not two the same. He built this place from the ground up, ensuring there would be plenty of space for his family to fit in it.

A father who favored his former team, a mother who’d steal his spotlight the second a book of hers was mentioned, and a sister, you, Moon Isla, who stumbled through the front door, heaving it open because it was utterly too heavy, hungover as fuck from the night before. An act you followed through with now, stumbling through the doorway after pushing it open with so much force your equilibrium had been thrown off.

Bare feet hitting the cool stone set into the floor of his foyer, the heels hooked around two fingers flew from your hold and hit the floor with a clatter, the sound echoing into the empty space above your head and into the vacant halls winding every which way from left to right, forward and back. Nudging the door shut with your backside, laying your head on the wood as you walked backward, it clicked into place with another booming sound into your polished marble, sparkling clean surroundings. 

“Jagiya?” Shouted from the second floor, his voice traveling down the half winding stairs set to your left, extending up to the balcony that looked down into the foyer, a small bar and sitting room beneath the staircase. Groaning, knowing your clothes were disheveled, your hair was thrown up into a bun hanging off the side of your head and your makeup was on Mingyu’s sheets, with a short moment to close your eyes, you prepared yourself for the brotherly lesson you were about to receive. “Is that you?”

He came out of his bedroom. The thirty foot wide and thirty foot long bedroom that lived above the front door and extended over the front patio, positioned halfway over the bar to your left as well. With a bag on one shoulder, your tiny purse around your other wrist, a sweater in one hand and your phone in the other, you lifted it, let it read your face, and sighed at the time. One thirty in the afternoon. He had just come back from the Lions stadium.

Sure enough, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his own bare feet touching the cold floor, you scoped him out head to toe. Black hair sweaty and stringy hung in front of his forehead and the Under Armour took to his muscled form like saran wrap. Looking you over, he analyzed you just the same, both your cheeks flushed for different reasons. 

Blinking his bright brown eyes, he took a breath before he asked, “Were you with Mingyu at least?” 

In an instant you dropped everything in your hands, sulking your shoulders so your bag could slide off your being and hit the floor with everything else in a pile. Narrowing your eyes, tipping your chin down, DK tried to not shrivel beneath your glare.

“Yes,” you hissed, gritting your teeth. “I was with Mingyu. And my name is Isla.”

He sighed, placed his hands to his hips and glanced at the heap your belongings made on his floor. “How many times are we gonna have the same argument?”

Taking your hands to your hair, you pushed yourself off the door and started for the stairs, flashing him a cheeky smile as you passed by him. “Until you get it right. I call you DK, DK. My name is Isla, so call me Isla.” Stepping up the first stair, his words whirled you back around.

“Our parents named you Jagiya,” he said as he turned around, that brotherly mocking tone hiding somewhere behind it. “I called you Jagiya for sixteen years.”

Taking the bun out of your hair, last nights blow out tried to come to life, but after hours of being tossed around it fell limp below your shoulders. “Our parents named you Seokmin, I called you Seokmin for sixteen years.”

“I signed with the MLB, Jagi, I was told to change it.” The way he shook his head around made you want to laugh.

Thinning your lips into a line, you shrugged. “And I grew up very public, very fast.” His being relaxed, his shoulders setting backward, your words dismantling any defense he had lined up. “With a ridiculous name like Jagiya, I had to change it.” Waiting three seconds more, your brother stumped, your lips lit up with success.

“We’re leaving here in a few hours,” his voice softened. Coming toward the stairs, he rested a hand on the railing and glanced toward your things on the floor once more. “Just, please, be ready. I’m not leaving you here, and I don’t plan on arriving late. That means we have to be on time.”

“Okay,” you pushed from your lips in a whisper, exchanging something with him only your pairs of eyes would be able to understand. Within the quiet a sinking feeling took over your stomach, your brother able to manipulate every thought, every feeling that coursed through you. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the words spewing as if they were painful.

DK scrunched up his face, his cheeks crinkling by his eyes. Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t apologize… Isla. You were with Mingyu. You were… safe.”

You whispered, “And drunk,” quickly, and your brother pressed his lips together.

Shifting his body around, his neck cracking along with his wrist, he looked up at you standing a few inches taller than him on the step and asked, “But, you stuck with Mingyu, and you ended up here today. I didn’t have to come find you.”

Something you both hope he’ll never have to do again. Throughout last fall and the winter months along the end of the year, he spent a lot of time in cars, driving around the city, making phone calls, dragging Mingyu into the picture which is what pushed the two of you together this time around. After drunken nights at bars, clubs, restaurants around Iloa, you were too incoherent to stay put, to know what you were doing and who you were with. The headlines were nasty, DK wouldn’t let you online the day after a bender, which meant for a while you were MIA on all socials and that many, many text messages went unanswered.

The first one, a weekend that lives beneath your heart in a knot, which is probably in your gut, each time it popped into your mind it threatened to make you sick. Nausea would spike, nerves would invade your veins. Ripped from your best friends, the girls who saw you for you, forced to move into a bedroom down the hall from your brothers on the second floor of his home. Your sorority sisters, the ones who tried, attempted to help you, who saw your literal cries for help behind the liquor giggles and champagne hiccups, you ignored them all.

Those messages, to this day, now that five months have passed, they’ve gone unread. 

Deleted. Archived. Erased.

Names that shoved knives into your back. One name stabbing you in the center of your chest, the pain so sharp it’d make you fill up a glass. 

You weren’t sure what lies they were fed, but you knew they were manipulated into believing whatever that wretched president of ITZ made up. Yeji. A royal bitch. If you had it your way, if the sorority believed in any type of democracy and allowed you to vote, you’d have written Aurora’s name down, one of your sisters who always went out of her way to check on you, you know, when her own shit wasn’t hitting the fan courtesy of The Royal Bitch.

Aside from missing their laughter, their hugs, their support, you longed to know if anyone had figured it out yet. Yeji bought her spot and Aurora threatened her. For years Aurora’s been liked better, more respected, smarter than Yeji in an incredulous amount of ways, the only thing she was missing was the money which Yeji unfortunately had plenty of. As someone with money yourself, and someone with a strategy skilled brain, you worked it out the moment the semester started. They were going to try to ruin Aurora with mind games.

And Yeji, who must’ve been smarter than you made her out to be, supplied you with a generous number of bottles of Grey Goose. Then, she kicked you out. She called up your brother, threatened to plaster your delirious face everywhere for the world to see, and told him to pick you up.

Which is how you landed yourself here, on his step, looking down at him and his post practice self. It was hard to not think of yourself as a burden. After moments like the one you just shared, stupid bickering over nothing that really mattered, not after he’s once rushed you to a hospital because you wouldn’t wake up, it was hard to not feel like you burdened him. Your brother was the epitome of success, of happiness, of achieving a lifelong goal, something you’ve never had. Throughout it all, every crash and burn, every news article, every online post, he’s been willing to greet you with a smile, and he’s never judged you. Never.

As if he could read your mind, he smiled. “You’re making progress,” he said, then shook his head. “I know you hate talking about it, but it’s what we’re doing here. It’s why you’re with me. I want to help you, I’m not handing you over to our parents. You’re staying with me, you’re coming with me. So, please, be packed and ready by five. I’d like to be on a beach with my sister and my friends in Haos tomorrow.”

Turning from him with a small smile on your face, you hurried up the stairs and into your bedroom to do just that, pack, because god only knows what you’ve been doing within the weeks leading up to this, but if one were to guess, and they said Mingyu, they’d be right.

5;47 p.m.

[thirteen<3]; Tell me you’re in that car with him.

Legs crossed over the leather in the backseat of DK’s G-Class Benz, you flip your freshly washed, freshly styled hair over to the other side and smile out the tinted windows. He couldn’t see you, but you could see him. Towering over his team around him, a baseball cap on his head, Ray-Bans perched on his nose, he waited outside the sliding doors of the Iloa airport with a hand on his hip and his phone lifted to his face in the other.

A jean jacket wrapped around his shoulders, showcasing how wide he really was, the broadness of his shoulders simply adding to his largeness. Matching jeans that fit a bit tighter today, he was perfection. Put together, deliciously styled perfection. The cameras across the road thought so too, the flashes lit him up and gentle shouts of his name leaked through the cracks in the doors of the car that came to a stop at the curb.

[you]; find out for yourself :)

He whirled around as soon as the message was read, brown tinted sunglasses lined with gold sliding down the tip of his nose. Focused brown eyes latched onto the Benz, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he bit down on his bottom lip.

Your brother, his driver, and members of his team leapt from the car, working in a hurry, pulling bags from the trunk, bags from the second car that pulled up behind the one you two were in. The clicks of the cameras and flashes amplified by a thousand the second DK was spotted, and the shouts that were once whispers flooded the property, their volume growing tenfold. One photo of DK giving them his infamous toothy grin and their mortgages were paid off. Thankfully he didn’t play into the whole paparazzi thing, or random reporters, especially with you right behind him.

Popping your door open after sliding across the backseat to exit through the side opposite where the crowd of losers waited for you to show your face, your phone vibrated once, then twice. The notification of a news outlet showing up at the top of your screen while you watched Mingyu’s typing bubbles appear in your thread. Reports were already hitting the media.

‘Lions head off to Spring Training eager to meet their newest…’

The headline was cut off, too long to fit in the notification. It’d get lost in the plethora of stories your phone would accumulate by the time you landed anyway. Besides, it was your everyday life, you didn’t need reporters or stories or headlines to tell you what was happening.

[thirteen<3]; Get over here right now. Gonna take a bite out of you.

Smiling at his message you left the car and let one of your brother's team members close it for you after he handed you your carry-on that fit perfectly over your shoulder. Locking your phone you slid it into the back pocket of your bell bottom jeans and started for Mingyu, your mile high, sappy smiling loverboy. Your brother cut you off before you could get too far, stepping up onto the curb, face to face with you, and he wasn’t wearing a happy one.

Before you left the house, right after you had done what you were told, packed up your things into three different suitcases and met him at the front door at four thirty, he found it the best time to suddenly play Dad. For over twenty minutes he talked to you, while you weakly argued back, and explained why he needed you to try to keep a low profile while the team practiced in Haos. 

Slightly offended, the feeling of burdening him washing over your entire being once again, his very long winded, very eerily vague reasons as to why he needed you to stay on the downlow… It barely made sense. 

For your safety, for your protection, for your public sanity.

He started every reason with it, that it was for you, and all about you. It all went in one ear and out the other, because all you heard was for me.

For my public image, for my team's image, my award winning team, me and my team's incredibly successful careers, the reputation we have and what we as a team stand for.

It was clear you didn’t reflect what the Iloa Lions projected onto the field, the media, to the world, the city of Iloa. You were the scrappy little sister, the baggage attached to a clean cut brother that news outlets referred to him as not only the Lions saving grace, but yours as well.

At the end of the day you’d huff and puff and admit that yes, without DK you really don’t know where you would be, but to have it all shoved in your face on the daily, and to know that he knows it too, it stung.

“I couldn’t speak on this before, legally,” he began, his voice soft, barely audible over the reporters across the street. “But now that we’re here, I can tell you, and I want to tell you, ‘cause I don’t want to blindside you-”

“Deeks,” you cut him clean off, holding up a hand. Squinting, you tilted your head and hit with a sarcastic pout. “I’m trying to keep a low profile, can you not speak to me so forwardly in public? I’d appreciate it.”

“Jagi,” he sighed as you passed by him, a member of his team in all black behind you. “Don’t do this, I need to-”

Whipping yourself around, keeping a smile on your face because now the reporters were shouting your name, you flashed him eyes to emphasize the venom in your tone. “Isla.”

You weren’t planning to walk into Mingyu’s arms, or let him kiss you on the top of your head that just barely reached his shoulders, the idea was to obtain him on the walk by and have him follow you inside. After your exchange with your brother and the way dread grew on his expression, knowing exactly what was flowing through your mind, it all went to shit.

Hurrying over to Mingyu, both your smiles growing into something incredibly cheesy, you leapt into his outstretched arms, and without a care, pressed your glossed lips to his while he lifted you off the ground. As expected, cameras and voices went wild. His muscled arms put you back on your feet but they stayed wrapped around you, guiding you inside through the sliding doors into the heated walls of the airport that was quiet for an evening in February. While his whispers of I missed you tickled your ears, you peered over your shoulder for a glimpse of your brother, but you couldn’t find him.

“And then, he told me I shouldn’t spend too much time, like, out, I guess,” you mumbled, leaning over Mingyu where he sat in the chair at the gate beside you. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his ankles and custom Nike’s crossed. Both of your hands toyed with one of his, your fingers drastically different in size. He could hold onto both of your hands with one of his.

“That’s unfair, don’t you think?” His voice was soft, easing the tension you held within your chest. “We’re going to be spending so much time out, how can he tell you not to do the same?”

Popping your brows, a tiny laugh escaped you. “It’s so I don’t ruin the image you guys curate for yourselves while you’re here.” Mingyu sprung forward, his face screwing up in disbelief. His lips parted, but you cut him off before he could say anything, pressing a hand to his firm chest. “Gyu, wait, no, he didn’t say that.” The boy relaxed, using his other hand to grab yours, lifting it to press a kiss to your manicured fingers. “He just… implied it, I guess. It’s how he made me feel.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” he whispered, bobbing his head. “You’re about to be twenty two, I don’t see why he’s so strung up about you doing these things.” Flickering your eyes to his, tearing your gaze off his insanely chiseled form, you could read every through behind every blink. 

Doing these things.

Mingyu took care of you after every night out now. He’d buy you drinks, share them with you, then take care of you when the party was done. Never once did he complain, never once did he mention how it was ruining his image. 

But, DK never said that. Those words never came out of his mouth.

“Your life is yours, Isla,” Mingyu said, brushing his soft lips over the skin of your knuckles. “And I’ve been having so much fun sharing it with you.” Tugging you closer, closing the gap between you, Mingyu nudged your noses together and gave you a smile, your eyes fluttering shut. His lips ghosted yours, warm breath caressing your skin as he whispered, “What I asked you, nights ago, it still stands.” Something related to nerves sparked in your heart, and you attempted to pull yourself back, but he kept you firm in place. “I know it scares you, trust me. I know you, Moon Isla.”

“Mingyu, I just…” Blinking up at him, his eyes flickered to your lips and he bobbed his head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, then kissed you for a minute too long. The team began to board the plane and nausea pooled in your gut. You were to be seated beside your brother. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. You’re still mine whether or not the label is there.”

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