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kithtaehyung · 11 months ago

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broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time?

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware.

“Were they always on this team?”

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd.

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience.

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand.

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night.

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing.

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.”

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still…

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.”

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise.

“And you’re paying me double.”

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him.

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?”

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.”

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.”

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention.

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.”

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.”

You stare.

“This will be over soon.”

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet.

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!”

That was close. Way too close.

Get it together.

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs.

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy.

However.

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense.

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action.

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats.

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you.

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks,

“I need you all to calm down.”

“No can do, coach.”

“Not if they aren’t.”

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived?

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder.

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too.

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.”

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.”

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?”

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s.

And you don’t like it one bit.

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up.

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring.

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed.

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out.

“What?”

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.”

“After what he did to you?”

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…”

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.”

“Yoongi.”

“Sorry, doll.”

“Please just—”

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back.

Only for him to be just out of reach.

After halftime, it’s a whole different game.

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill.

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead.

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on.

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck!

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning.

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench.

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger.

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands.

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win.

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate.

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change.

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive.

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight.

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees.

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy.

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you.

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if…

Nah.

That’s still too big a reach.

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night.

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!”

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight.

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on.

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?”

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.”

Motherfucker.

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?”

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.”

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night.

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain.

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky.

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?”

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod.

Weird.

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.”

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.”

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.”

“You’re whipped.”

“No, you.”

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat.

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some.

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do—

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake.

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud.

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!”

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.”

“No! What the fuck—”

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart.

“Babe, we have to go now.”

“No, let me go!”

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness.

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts.

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive.

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!”

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.”

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure.

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much.

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…”

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.”

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod.

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort.

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too.

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard.

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut.

You want to believe him. You do. You do.

But hope may be a bitch.

So you don’t.

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort.

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating.

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—”

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?”

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.”

Oh.

“Your brother’s here, too.”

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.”

“Umm.. Yeah.”

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.”

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—”

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes.

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.”

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up.

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?”

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.”

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.”

“Fuck that.”

“Huh?”

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.”

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.”

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.”

And you mean that.

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.”

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else.

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen.

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid.

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?”

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.”

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.”

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room,

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?”

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out,

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?”

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not.

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out.

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted.

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious.”

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends.

So you leave to go pack without another word.

It’s raining.

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up.

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do.

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either.

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you.

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened.

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you?

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring.

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick.

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know.

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else.

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there.

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with.

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else.

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park.

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside.

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here.

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer.

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear.

Finally. “Hello.”

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell.

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame.

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—”

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go.

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.”

“No!”

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching,

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage.

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine.

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight.

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you.

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice,

“…No.”

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that.

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground.

And your breath cuts like it’s your last.

Shards.

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room.

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it.

Throw it out, all of it, all of it.

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is.

Shit, this is everywhere.

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts.

This really, really hurts.

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going.

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain.

“I got it.”

“Let me do it.”

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room.

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way.

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment.

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed.

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away.

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore.

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse.

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.”

“I still need to—”

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.”

“Do what? I’m helping you.”

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting.

But ice.

“Who said I needed it?”

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?”

“You think I’m joking?”

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?”

“I say a lot of things.”

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder.

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.”

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?”

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.”

“Not tonight what.”

“We aren’t doing this tonight.”

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.”

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.”

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?”

“I am.”

“Wow.”

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?”

“Do you even know?”

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!”

“That’s cus—”

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.”

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…”

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then.

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.”

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.”

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.”

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock,

“Who asked you?”

Dark liquid drips onto your soul.

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.”

“That’s what I said.”

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare.

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time.

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.”

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center.

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming.

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—”

“Whoa, hold u—”

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—”

“Just listen—”

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—”

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming.

“I swear to—”

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders.

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?”

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again.

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now.

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.”

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass.

“He’s still home.”

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.”

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you.

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.”

Your eyes are ice.

“Are you.”

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside.

And Yoongi cracks like lightning.

“Goddamn it.”

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk.

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain.

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life.

“Stubborn.”

“Coward.”

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth,

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.”

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.”

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.”

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions.

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation.

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself.

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length.

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that.

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what.

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?”

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat.��

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?”

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.”

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it.

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground.

“Holy fuck.”

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss.

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.”

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall.

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact.

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.”

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.”

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.”

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside.

And it’s maddening. “Please!”

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall.

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes.

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely.

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust.

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.”

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.”

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?”

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach.

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway.

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth.

“What was that?”

“I said fuck you!”

“Thought so.”

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.”

“Fuck—!”

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver.

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.”

“Asshole—”

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.”

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—”

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?”

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.”

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.”

“Make me. Bet you can’t.”

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.”

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear.

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.”

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that.

“Fuckin’ thought so.”

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure.

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down.

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension.

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.”

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!”

“What, doll.”

“Please!”

“Nah.”

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt.

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close.

Every. Single. Time.

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?”

“Please!”

“Mm. Not loud enough.”

“Yoongi, please.”

“Oh, we’re saying names now?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.”

“Do it yourself then.”

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat.

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…”

“Nah.”

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.”

“You’ll come when I say you can.”

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?”

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong.

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.”

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.”

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command,

“Then fucking come.”

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin.

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened.

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice.

“I said again.”

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone.

“Yoongi—”

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place.

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.”

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.”

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs.

“Babe.”

“I—I—”

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.”

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes…

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.”

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale.

“There you go. Keep going.”

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is.

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.”

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?”

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—”

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Babe.”

“You told me so many times—”

“Breathe, angel.”

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice.

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Just… Like this.”

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—”

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out.

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—”

“I’m here.”

“So please don’t push me away.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you don’t make promises but—”

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear.

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.”

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore.

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.”

“Hmm?”

“Shower.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on.

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside.

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?”

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.”

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap.

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off?

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.”

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—”

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those?

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.”

“Are you sure?”

“Promise.”

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release.

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too.

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever.

“You got hurt cus I said to play.”

“Nope.”

“I wore the outfit that day.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“And lost my friends at the club.”

“No.”

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have,

“How about we share it.”

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.”

“Okay.”

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.”

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.”

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain.

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.”

“Duh.”

He’s himself again.

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too.

That’s all you both need to feel peace.

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head.

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed.

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head.

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—”

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.”

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…”

Scroll, scroll.

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?”

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again.

Scroll, scroll.

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.”

Time bursts.

Your chest glows.

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion.

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?”

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door.

His eyes.

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms.

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance.

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do.

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe?

No.

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters.

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.”

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—”

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you.

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue.

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay.

He loves you.

Fuck, he loves you?

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man.

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything.

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.”

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.”

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.”

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself.

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.”

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall.

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides.

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts.

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.”

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.”

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—”

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes.

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?”

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.”

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?”

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.”

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.”

“I want what you want, doll.”

“Then it’s okay.”

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him.

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give.

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined.

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking.

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again.

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two.

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside.

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yoongi—”

“Fuck.”

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come.

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too.

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?”

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.”

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.”

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.”

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.”

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.”

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it.

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?”

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?”

Again.

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.”

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.”

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire.

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything.

“Taking me so well like this.”

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.”

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want.

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!”

“Uh uh.”

“Please—please—”

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful.

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion.

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists.

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—”

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut.

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles.

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.”

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down.

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel.

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.”

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?”

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised.

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.”

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper.

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.”

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.”

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.”

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.”

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas.

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you.

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world.

Swelling, you already feel close.

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble.

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi.

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again.

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep.

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again.

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again?

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times.

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins.

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence.

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found.

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning.

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.”

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.”

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest.

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out,

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.”

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer.

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet.

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough.

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.”

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.”

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?”

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you.

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.”

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?”

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?”

Oh. Wait. “What?”

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that.

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops.

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there.

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.”

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion,

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift.

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same.

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.”

“You did threaten to kick me out before.”

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.”

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!”

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.”

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.”

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.”

“Guess what.”

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again.

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours.

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many.

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home?

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?”

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.”

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet.

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.”

“I can!”

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.”

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin.

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony.

And it hurts. It really, really hurts.

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same.

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret.

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.”

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.”

Oh.

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking.

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?”

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.”

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself.

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.”

tbc. :)

so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#AHHH it's finally here!#bts fic #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts fanfic #ryenwrites #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #3tan12 #*latest

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modanisgf · 3 months ago

Text

SO HIGHSCHOOL , HANNI PHAM

“you know how to ball, i know aristotle!”

✎ SYNOPSIS — in which hanni falls for the captain of the basketball team, despite you two being complete opposites.

✎ PAIRING(S) — yearbook/newspaper student!hanni x athlete!reader

✎ WARNING(S) — blood mentioned, injuries, kissing, lowkey rushed i wanted to get it out for her birthday 😭

a/n— ily yearbook girlie hanni pham!! also happy birthday hanni

it was unreal to haerin how her best friend had fallen in love with y/n. hanni pham of all people was deeply in love with you, someone who barely even looked her way. hanni even showed up to all your games making the excuse that it was so she could take photos for the school newspaper, but everyone knew it was just for you.

it was one of those days right now actually, hyein and haerin sighing as they accompanied hanni to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

you and your teammates were currently strategizing, the other team calling a timeout as your team was up by forty points.

“han what even is interesting about this, every game y/n makes like five threes and carries her team to victory. nothing else ever happens.” hyein complains, making hanni roll her eyes.

“and then she gaslights herself into thinking y/n shot them all for her.” haerin says, making hanni side eye her.

“all you guys do is complain,” hanni groans, “also i do not gaslight myself?! she really does shoot them for me.” hanni says.

“you’re insane.” haerin says simply, making hanni come back to reality.

“my bad.” hanni mutters, grabbing her camera again as the timeout concluded.

the girl had an insane amount of photos already, some of your best plays coming from this game. it was concerning how much of cameo you made in each new issue of the newspaper, it was actually something you noticed recently but you brushed it off and just thought you were having a good season.

you were running down the court waiting for a pass when a bright flash blinded you, making you groan. you looked up to see three girls in the stands, scrambling and yelling at each other. two of them were yelling at the girl with a camera on her neck, the girl having her hand over her mouth in shock.

“hanni you cannot be serious right now.” hyein deadpanned, looking at her older friend.

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT?” hanni says, her hand quickly making its way to cover her mouth.

she would never recover from this, she looked down to see if you noticed just to see you staring directly at her making her heart drop.

“hyein.”

“hanni?”

“look.”

“oh my god.”

“i blinded the love of my life.” hanni says, sinking down into her seat.

“how do you manage to ruin everything.” haerin says, making hanni roll her eyes and ignore her friend.

your teammate hadn’t realized you weren’t paying attention, the girl throwing the ball to you for an easy shot. her jaw dropped when she saw you fall to the ground, the ball leaving a big red mark on your face.

the ref blew his whistle, calling a timeout in which all of your teammates ran towards you to figure out what happened.

“y/n what are you doing?!” yujin shouts, anger laced throughout her voice.

you didn’t even understand the girl as you just barely woke up from your small sleep, causing you to touch your head and feel blood.

“ah shit.” you curse, the pressure of your hand sending pain coursing through your body.

“y/n did you hear me?! what the hell are you doing?” yujin repeats, your other teammates concerned.

“yujin..” was all you could mutter before you saw black. you knew it was over, this was most definitely your last game of the season.

back up in the stands hanni couldn’t believe her eyes, all because of her stupid camera flash you were now injured.

“hanni, you actually just may have made the most insane fuck up of all time.” haerin says.

“i genuinely have no words.” hanni says, her eyes trained on you as your teammates carry you out the gym. the match even had to be finished early, with the lead your team had it didn’t even matter much.

if hanni even thought she had any chance with you before, it was most definitely gone now. she didn’t even know how she fucked up this bad.

—

the next day hanni anxiously tapped her fingers against her usual lunch table, danielle and minji confused at her unusual antics.

nobody knew what y/n was looking at while she was distracted, so it was a complete mystery to the two girls what had happened yesterday.

“hanni, are you good?” minji asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“yeah! just anxious about my spanish test.” hanni lies quickly, looking around after like she was being interrogated for a crime.

“um okay..” minji says, she knew there was no spanish test today (they had the same class..) but she chose to not question any further.

a small conversation picked up between dani and hyein, haerin sometimes chiming in with minji. hanni couldn’t even focus, she was so unbelievably worried about you.

hanni couldn’t get image of you on the ground out of her head, a lingering feeling of guilt following her everywhere. thankfully she had yet to see you, she knew she would probably break down.

hanni was also nervous that you would confront her, tell her that she ruined your life or that she was awful but she knew you wouldn’t. that was what drew her towards you. regardless of how your friends and teammates acted, you were the kindest person ever. whenever a new issue came out you would compliment her on her work, as hanni usually worked on the sports section alone. it was a simple gesture really, but coming from you it meant the world to hanni.

in conclusion the girl was smitten with you, and she wanted nothing more than to know you were okay.

—

hanni knew it was stupid. but she let herself walk into the nurses office, where you currently were getting checked on.

hanni thought it would be fine, considering they had a student nurse at the moment who she knew well. she walked in and greeted her friend, the older boy smiling at her.

“hi hanni.” huening kai greets the girl quickly, before turning back his attention to your wound.

“oh sorry kai, i didn’t know you still had someone in here.” hanni apologizes, knowing well she knew you were in there.

you stared at hanni in disbelief, you couldn’t really see her when you were on the court so her beauty amazed you. maybe it was okay that she blinded you, and also sort of caused you a major injury.

“no worries hanni! i actually need to go grab something from the main office really quickly, can you watch y/n for me?” kai says, to which hanni nods almost immediately.

“thanks! y/n keep your head down.” kai commands, noticing the way you sat up to look at hanni.

“oh yeah, sorry..” you mutter, laying back down slowly as kai left.

there was a moment of silence, before you sat up almost immediately alarming hanni.

“y/n you’re gonna—“ hanni starts, being cut off by you.

“it was you, wasn’t it.” you say eerily, further examining hanni’s face.

“huh?” hanni questions, her heart dropping to her ass. she didn’t think you would acknowledge it.

“it’s okay hanni!” you retort quickly, noticing the change in the girls demeanor.

“next time just wait until i actually make the shot.” you tease her, making hanni groan.

“it was really an accident i’m so so so so so so so sorry.” hanni mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

“it’s fine hanni, your photos are actually really good. i use them on insta all the time.” you reassure the girl, taking her hand in yours making her unbelievably nervous.

“you do?” hanni says dumbfoundedly. (she actually knew that, she loved scrolling through your instagram, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“yeah, i mean you manage a whole section of the newspaper yourself for a reason. you always manage to catch my good side, it’s actually kind of scary.” you say, making hanni smile nervously.

“i just pay close attention you know, i love basketball!” hanni lies through her teeth, she didn’t know shit about basketball she just liked watching you play.

“oh really? who’s your favorite player?” you ask.

“um… lebron james?” hanni admits quietly, looking away in embarrassment at the way you burst out into laughter at her response.

“wow, you seem very well versed on basketball ms pham.” you say, still giggling at how unsure she sounded giving her response.

“i just— oh shut up.” hanni deadpans, noticing that you were now teasing her on purpose.

silence filled the room once again, causing you to lock eyes with hanni. you finally got to see her in all her glory, your eyes slowly scanning her face until they stopped at her lips.

she looked so kissable in that moment to you, the thought of her making you smile. what hanni didn��t know is that you were actually obsessed with her too, you’re teammates hated you for it always calling her the pretty girl in the stands.

you looked back up to see hanni staring at your lips too, making you ask a question on impulse.

“can i kiss you?”

another beat of silence, making you nervous.

“please.”

you wrap your arms around hanni’s neck, crashing your lips onto hers as she held your waist. you knew kai would be back soon but you didn’t care, you had been waiting forever for this.

the two of you only pulled away for air, addicted to the feeling of your lips on each others. though every good thing comes to an end, the two of you jumping at the sound of the door opening.

kai stood there dumbfounded, “you know what, i’m not even gonna ask.”

“um, y/n you’re free to go! after you’re done with whatever..” kai says, smiling awkwardly.

he quickly closed the door making you laugh, hanni hiding in the crook of your neck.

“never again.” she mutters into your neck.

“you sure?”

“shut up."

#newjeans #newjeans x reader #newjeans hanni #hanni pham #hanni pham x reader #newjeans hanni x reader #hanni x reader #newjeans fanfic #kpop #kpop x reader

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bnpd · 7 months ago

Text

Golden Boy ! ᡣ𐭩

"so this is gojo satoru."

you first heard of gojo when you were a freshman in high school, you first saw gojo when you were a junior, you first talked to him when you were a senior, and then you disliked him. but he first loved you when he first met you.

basketball player!gojo x photography/journalist!reader DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 3K

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : ᡣ𐭩 NAVIGATION : ꩜

NOTE: basketball gojo is rotting my brain btw! so here’s another AU of them, enjoy. not a fic, more of a really really long drabble. posting this while you guys wait for long shot part 3! okay sorry too much yap! not proof read sorry chat

high school: 2007

you grew up with a fascination for cameras–photography as a whole–, and the idea of perfectly capturing the moment.

when you first started high school you would bring your camera and a journal everywhere. it was a small camera your parents bought to allow you to explore your life-long interest.

you were very much kept to yourself. if you didn’t have to talk to anyone, you didn’t choose to. you liked being alone, and there’s nothing depressing about that. you only had one friend, and her name was utahime.

you were a geek! not in a bad way, but in a way where you had a passion for books, writing, games, photography, you name it.

if anyone asked about you, no one would know how to answer. no one really knew much about you. with that in mind, you were still approachable, and kind.

if anyone engaged in conversation with you, you didn’t shy away—you politely engaged back.

now, things stayed like that for the entirety of freshman to spring semester of sophomore year because one day your graphics and design teacher, mr. mendez, caught you taking pictures of inanimate objects, offering you a position on the yearbook team.

your high school was huge, and names weren’t frequently known, especially not yours. but those rules didn’t apply to athletes. especially the golden boy—gojo satoru.

gojo satoru was a well-known name—gojo, itself, was a well-known name—his family came from money and they funded the entire school. you never actually met, or saw him, considering your schedules were completely different. but, in your junior year that changed. when your teacher asks you to go to a basketball game to cover the athlete section since the boy who was initially covering it got sick.

you’re frowning to yourself the entire day just thinking about having to stay after school to watch the game.

the time comes and you’re sitting at the back of the stands, holding onto your camera, waiting for the game to start. it’s a packed game. that doesn’t surprise you. what does surprise you, is how crazy everyone is going over a mere game of basketball before it even starts.

you almost jolt out of your seat when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn to see someone sweetly smiling at you. a boy. “I think mr. mendez is trying to get your attention,” he extends his finger, pointing, and you follow the direction of it. and, indeed, your teacher was trying to get your attention.

you sweetly mutter a quick ‘thank you’, to the boy before collecting your things, and walking towards mr. mendez.

“so, i figured you’re new to this, but when you take pictures during sports events, you’re usually pretty close to the court, standing,” he motions to the court with his hands, and you give him a confused look even though you understood exactly what he was saying, in hopes of a different alternative. unfortunately he does not give you one.

so, now you’re standing next to the court. camera, in hand, when the lights dim down just a tiny bit and cheerleaders emerge from the sides to begin their routine.

you take this as your opportunity to snap a few pictures. you capture a picture of the captain smiling, a few others of flyers mid-air, and some of the perfect routine moments.

after they finish, you find an empty seat at the very front. you think of all the things that you could’ve been doing at the moment. like reading on your porch swing, watching the sun set.

then the coach blows the whistle and finally the game is about to begin. the faster this goes, the faster you’ll be home, snuggled up in bed with your dog keeping your feet warm.

you stand to take pictures, and watch as the players emerge from the locker room, one after the other, jogging down to their designated seating area. but you don’t have a particular reaction, until you see another figure emerge, and you’re a bit struck at how handsome he is. gorgeous, even.

‘so, this is gojo satoru.’

he’s smiling, and you just know he thinks he’s hot shit with the way he jogs over to the rest of his teammates. ‘we’ll see about that’ you thought to yourself.

and see you did.

he was incredible on the court—professional level good—.

you took a great number of pictures, ones where he’s doing some kind of handshake with another star player, geto suguru, another set of pictures of other players, some of gojo by himself, but your favorite one, by far, had to be the one after he shoots the final shot, and almost as if he sensed the camera, looked your way, and smiled. a cute boyish smile. you looked at your camera in shock and disbelief.

you felt your face heat up by a billion degrees.

it was the most perfect picture you ever captured. and you don’t even think he noticed because he runs back to his teammates, as if nothing had happened.

you went home that night in a bit of a daze. a new crush had developed. a very tiny, atom sized crush, but a crush nonetheless.

the next day mr. mendez asked for the pictures you took at the basketball game, yet you found yourself not uploading the picture of gojo smiling directly at the camera to the USB drive. it felt wrong.

so you kept it to yourself.

you still didn’t see him much after that. he was like an enigma to you. everyone knew so much of him.

senior year rolls around and you’re now the head of the yearbook team. you’re applying to colleges/unis, and you’re really shooting high for this specific ivy league university because of the amazing combined photography–journalism program they offered, praying that they give you the full-ride you applied for.

you’re sitting in the graphic and design room one day, editing some final touches of the yearbook, when mr. mendez calls your name, “we have a yearbook interview for the time capsule and photoshoot for the basketball team today, and i need you to be there to direct both, is that okay?”

you nod and reply with a simple, “sure”.

in reality your heart is pounding because you know you’ll have to see gojo again, and actually talk to him.

it’s finally after school, and you’re setting up the equipment for, not only, the photos, but the interviews as well.

you hear the ruffling of the setup behind you while you try to position the camera for the interviews at the right angle, you let out a small frustrated groan “mahito stop fucking around and help me–”

“mahito?” the voice asks you and you feel yourself still because that voice is not mahitos’s. you get up from your position, and you almost die in your spot when you see gojo standing there with an unreadable look on his face.

an unreadable look that studies you.

“oh, im sorry i thought-”, he cuts you off before you can finish.

“hm,” he lets out in a rude manner and you almost reel back at how condescending he looked. (canon high school gojo i fear).

‘this can’t be the same guy that I had a crush on last year’

but it was.

the worst part is, the entire time you took the team’s photos, he wasn’t outwardly mean. but he had an energy to him that put you off. one that told you he thought he was better than you. his mannerisms screamed arrogance, and carelessness.

you kept to yourself for the majority of the photoshoot, muttering occasional instructions.

the rest of the team were really nice. they’d strike up a conversation, here and there. you, of course, responded politely and engaged in conversation, returning their enthusiasm. but the entire time you felt piercing blue eyes.

you’d catch him whispering to geto, and even though you knew they weren’t talking about you, it left you paranoid.

for the interviews, you kept it polite. until you got to gojo. you hit the record button on the camera, asked him the question, and listened to him as he talked about how great and amazing he was. you found yourself drifting off.

‘there’s no way this guy is that full of himself.’

he was.

you wrap up the interviews and go home. a bit caught off guard by his behavior. it wasn't that he was mean, but why would you willingly be in the presence of someone like this? and from that point on, you disliked gojo satoru.

college: 2013

in the end, you got accepted into the ivy league you had hoped for, got a full ride, and were accepted into the photography and journalist program. you looked completely different than how you did in college (you were grateful for this). things couldn’t get any better, but they could get worse.

you found out you actually went to the same university as gojo. you didn’t realize it until you saw his huge basketball banner in the gymnasium one day. you’re not paranoid of bumping into him here. if you didn’t bump into him in high school, you definitely won’t here.

but perhaps a party.

let’s say, one of your friends invited you, and gojo definitely notices you because he finds you somehow familiar and attractive. still, he hasn’t recognized you because you’re not angled in a manner that he can see you.

so he goes to talk to you, and let’s say you don’t take it lightly. you're not rude or anything, but you reject him, and he’s shocked.

you stare at him before walking away, leaving him standing there in bewilderment.

he watches you leave, and it takes him a while as he’s standing there but it clicks. he can’t be upset that you just rejected him in front of people, nor can he be upset that you walked away from him. he’s just honestly elated to find you here.

the only thought in his head is that you’re here and he finally has a chance again after realizing his attempt in high school was not it. he didn’t know you in high school, nor did he know you now, but he thought you were the most interesting person back then. and it looks to him that you still are.

now’s his chance, and he’d be damned if he passed it up.

so he kind of finds out where you work part-time, and goes to the campus diner around the corner (where you work). it’s a late evening, and the only customers around were the old couple who visited every friday, the frequent patrons (who were college students), were all at a party that’d been advertised all week.

it was only you, the couple, and now gojo.

you don’t look up when you hear the door bells jingle, only gently shouting a “welcome!”, while you’re too busy wiping down the milkshake bottle.

gojo is a bit nervous, but he pushed forward.

he sits on the barstool by the counter you're now wiping down, sensing a presence you look up are surprised to find gojo, “hi,” gojo starts, you narrow your eyes at him a little.

“hello,” you reply back, “what can i get for you?” you ask him before reaching under the counter to grab a menu, placing it in front of him. he doesn’t touch the menu, nor look at it, he stares into you as he says, “i’d like to start off with the sweetest milkshake you have.”

since that night at the diner he would often show up on fridays, sit on the same stool, and order the same thing. if he didn’t order the same thing, he’d ask you for any recommendations. whatever you told him to get, he’d get it and completely finish it.

gradually you began to warm up to him. it blossomed into a sweet genuine friendship. after that checkpoint, he would wait for you to finish your shift, and walk you out.

when your friendship developed into something deeper—something more—he knew he had it good. he was so smitten, anyone who saw you two could tell.

your first date happened after he came to the diner one night.

“what can i get for you?” you asked him with a cheeky smile, leaning over the counter with your elbows on the table. he takes it as his sign to also lean his elbows over the counter, mirroring your stance.

satoru’s head slightly tilts playfully, eyes briefly landing on your lips before landing on your eyes again.

a pause.

“a date.”

it took him only a single date to ask you out because he knew before the first one that you were the one.

now

“daddy was mean to mommy?” your son asked, an extremely worried and shocked look on his face.

you gently laugh before settling into a smile but satoru has a big frown on his face.

satoru puts his hand on top of your son's head, “well, daddy was an idiot, i was just trying to impress your mommy,” he explains.

“daddy is a jerk!” your daughter then speaks, and satoru’s jaw drops. you’re trying to contain your laughter as satoru stands up and grabs both of your kids off the couch, throwing them over his shoulders as they squeal. your daughter lets go of the scrapbook you made, but you catch it just before it hits the ground.

you gently place it over the coffee table as you follow your husband up the stairs to the kids rooms.

they’re both squealing when satoru puts them both in their respective beds.

you watch silently from the door as he kneels between both beds to whisper something to the kids and your heart leaps as you watch their eyes light up. just like their father. he kisses them each on the forehead as he tucks them into their beds.

“mommy! we want your kiss too,” your son says. you walk over and give them both loud forehead pecks.

you’re so incredibly happy with your little family.

satoru stands up from his kneeling position to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you.

“goodnight my little angels. sleep well, you’ll need energy tomorrow for the aquarium,” he tells them sweetly.

you turn on their night light before turning off the room light, “and don’t forget, mommy and daddy are here if you need anything,” you remind them.

“okay mommy,” you hear your babies say.

you shut the door and head to your room.

satoru is on you in seconds.

his hands move from your waist to your rear as he peppers kisses all over your face, and neck. you sigh happily into him as you wrap your arms around him.

he gives you a squeeze, and he swallows the moan that releases out of you in a passionate, and longing kiss.

“missed you so much,” he admits in between kisses. satoru had been away for two weeks for some out-of-state games, but he would call, text, and facetime you every chance he got. he’d call first thing in the morning as soon as he would wake up, while he was getting ready, during breaks at practice, before a game (always before a game), after a game (you watched every single game), on his way back to his hotel, right before bed, and even in his sleep he’d ask to stay on the phone.

you’re a bit embarrassed to admit to how many times you two had phone sex during the away games that you couldn’t go to.

before you had kids, he would take you everywhere with him, and while that is still somewhat the case. the children have school so it's a bit harder to manage to travel with him.

“me too ‘toru,” you moaned, your tone earning a tiny whine from him.

“don’t do that," he starts "you know what calling me that does to me.”

he leans in to capture your lips again, but you’re leaning away. satoru pulls you closer in an attempt to kiss you again, but you refuse again.

you settle with a quick peck on the lips.

“we need to go to bed too because we have to be up earlier.” you remind him, and he’s smiling at you, “i know what’ll put you to sleep.”

you playfully push him off, “that's what you said right before i got pregnant with our second child,” you joke.

he’s trailing after you like a puppy into the restroom as you ready yourself for bed, “maybe i want a third child,” he challenges and you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

you take in the serious look on his face, and you stand straighter at his admission.

“'toru–” you start before he cuts in, “i’m retiring,” he starts, “i want to focus on our family. basketball is great, but it’s not my life. you are. after we win finals, im retiring.”

you turn to him completely, and pull him into a strong hug. “I love you,” you gently admit. “I love you so much more, you have no idea,” he tells you, wrapping you in his arms. he engulfed you in his safety.

you share a moment of silence, before satoru ruins the moment.

“I’m telling the kids you stalked me and secretly took pictures of me,” you pinch him.

“Ow!”

BONUS ୭ ˚

your parents had convinced you to try out for the cheerleading team in high school. and you did.

it was on a sunny afternoon, every school sports team imaginable was outside in the field. even the basketball team. they were doing their laps around the track field, which circled the current patch of grass that was hosting the cheerleader tryouts.

“alright everyone, let's get ready for toe touches,” the captain announced enthusiastically. you’re a little distracted when you briefly make eye contact with a certain white-haired boy from across the field then you remember where you are and what was just said. you felt a little out of place, “i’m sorry,” you started, “what are toe tou–”

“ready? okay!” she shouted.

you stand dumbfounded in the middle. however, you soon find out what a toe touch is as the girl beside you launches her foot into your face, knocking your head back from the force and collision. the impact is unexpected and the girls gasp.

you’re too busy on the ground to realize a certain boy also created his own commotion on the track field when he collided with his best friend, sending them both to the ground because of his momentary distraction.

feel more than welcome to submit a request <3 ᥫ᭡ join my tag list :

TAGLIST : @luvwithau : @sugacor3 : @bloopsstuff : @fushitoru : @serenityfauna : @luna-v-roiya : @rjswrld : @fartm : @manyno : @altyx : @deluluforcarlos55 : @fangirlingoverfanfic : @gojostit : @jaelahh : @nvmlolo : @lavender-hvze : @um-no-ok : @jotarohat : @plutosgold

gojo and reader loser agenda

#bnpd tumblr #gojo satoru bnpd #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #basketball gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo jjk

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paige05bby · 10 days ago

Text

Fake it til you make it

☆ pairing: wnba!fuckgirl!Paige x Singer!reader

word count: 1008

Summary: Whereas a first interaction means many things to famous singer, y/n y/l/n, especially those that involve a pretty well-known basketball player

"Lie to me and tell me you don't want me as much as I want you. Lie to me and tell me you don't want to press those pretty lips of yours to mine right now. Lie to me and tell me you hate me"

y/n

"Hey! I'm y/n y/l/n,, and this is the wired Autocomplete Interview!" I chuckle at a whiteboard with my name and multiple whited-out questions. "I'm scared!" I smile at the producer as I finish the first covered question: "When did y/n y/l/n get famous?"

oh boy,

"Straight for it, huh– loaded question!" I chuckle, looking into the camera, "Umm, I would say right after I left college— I started on YouTube and dabbled into some songwriting, then I somehow ended up here!" I smile, shrugging my shoulders before throwing the crumbled paper over my shoulder. "It seems like there are enough people like little ole me."

"Who are y/n y/l/n’s songs about?"

"That's for me to know and you to wonder." I wink at the camera. " Next?"

"Why are y/n y/l/n songs so sad"

"Because being a lesbian sucks.." I chuckle, shaking my head, “You know I didn't even notice that! I don't think I've ever written a love song before!”

"Is y/n y/l/n a basketball fan?"

"I practically grew up on it! But I never technically grew to, ya know... Play it! But yes, huge fan," I chuckle,

"What is y/n y/l/n next album about?"

"Hmmm..." I bite my lip softly before smiling at the camera, "My past, past and present?" I smirk, "Take that as it is."

I rip off the next one as a gasp, chuckling softly, "What is y/n y/l/n type?"

I roll my eyes and check the nonexistent watch on my arm, "So I think it's about time I go.." I smile, making the producers and their teams laugh behind the camera as I facepalm my forehead, softly panicking.

"well... you could never go wrong with a female athlete.. Cmon, you get the muscles and the damn uniforms– be for real," I suck my teeth, awkwardness flooding through me, "but you know what they say— I don't kiss and tell," I smirk before continuing to the next question, "and that's that on that..."

Paige

I rub my groggy eyes, which are still sore from an early morning practice. I walk through the streets of early LA morning, turning into a Starbucks.

“White mocha– shaken with brown sugar.” I nod sleepily towards the barista before slipping a ten-dollar bill and mumbling, “Keep the change.”

As I slump into a seat while my thoughts get lost in Instagram, scrolling through what model posted with what skims outfit today– Now listen, I know what you're thinking – im not what you think i am.. Im just women–

Who has needs.

Don't take me for the relationship type of person.

My life is busy enough – let alone be able to remember a girl's name.

I roll my eyes as my phone buzzes– “What, Alex– today isn't the day to piss me off-”

“Paige, your fucking late dude!”

“Im down the street– grabbing a coffee, gimme a break!”

“Well, your lucky she is late t-”

“Who she?”

“Paige, cmon now, get on the right, but here– your agents are setting you up with some girl to help your social standard because god knows you blew it with that stupid model you decided to sneak into your hotel during an away game…”

I groan, throwing my head back– “That was one time!”

“One time too many PB!”

“A Venti shaken white mocha with brown sugar..”

“Dude, fine– hope off my dick– ill be there!” I sigh before getting up to walk towards the counter, reaching out for my drink, but only before a hand grabs it before my own.

y/n

“A Venti shaken white mocha with brown sugar..”

“Oop, that's mine! I'll meet you in the car, Carter!” I smile at my agent before walking up to the counter and grabbing my drink.

“Um, excuse me?” the voice chuckles, making me turn swiftly on my heels, “Thats mine–”

“Does it have your name on it?”

“Nothing needs my name when everyone knows it.”

I chuckled to myself. Of course, I knew who this hunk of a blonde was, and may I say she was even better looking in person than she was in her edits– but that doesn't forgive her attitude —she was practically all over the internet with the slogans “best WNBA record beater” or “who the favor of tonight with WNBA star Paige Bueckers. " She's practically the slogan child of what not to do in stardom.

I chuckle, tilting my head to the side, “Im sorry? Who are you exactly?”

“Don't be a stupid kid—you know who I am.” She smirked, leaned against the counter, and looked down at me, her height daunting.

I shake my head, pursing my lips. " The only thing I know about you is that we have the same coffee order. Now I should be going because I have much more important things to do than talk to athletes.” I smirk before turning on my heels to walk out—only for the blonde to follow.

“Oh, so she's a coffee thief and a liar–” She chuckles, making me stop.

“And you're officially a creep– and now coffeeless–”

“You intolerable–”

“Sorry, I didn't know this was a competition between who's more annoying! In that case, you win... “ She huffs as both our phones ding, “saved by the bell..”

“Seems like it.” She tilts her head, smirking, “Enjoy my coffee..”

“Oh, trust me, Bueckers– I will..”

—

“Y/N! You're here– im sorry. I know LA traffic can be terrible these days! I knew I should have gotten you another car!”

I laugh, shaking my head, “Alex, seriously, don't worry about it! I don't need an escort– I can take the regular road just like a normal person..”

“So my client– She’s a handful... Are you sure your management is okay with this?”

I nod, letting out a shaky breath as his hand reaches for the door, “If this works – then im sure they are more than okay..”

The door opens slowly before a familiar blue-eyed blonde looks up at me.

“Coffee Theif?”

“YOU?”

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige x reader #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconnwbb #paige #bueckers.#paige buckets #paige bueckers headcannons #lgbtq community

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girlokwhatever · 8 months ago

Note

ooou could you do paige x reader who joined kks live once (like she thought she was cute and they started talking ykwimmmm)

IKWYMMMM

✩ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆✧₊ ⊹ nice surprise,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

part two

“yo, that girl’s picture is nice,”

“PAIGE… girly pop.. which one?”

paige is pointing to your profile picture and saying your username out loud to kk, who’s hosting the live.

you don’t even have your phone, it was your roommate that joined the live. she had commented a few times and paige saw, zoning in on your picture. she thought you were pretty. to be fair, you loved your profile picture. it was you in a floor-length sundress and sunglasses, holding your younger brother’s hand.

kk takes advantage of paige’s blabber mouth, deciding to add you to the live and make her friend talk to you.

your roommate is freaking out, screaming your name and running into the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner.

“GIRL TAKE YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW-“

“what did you do-“

you look on your phone screen and see the live, the faces of your college’s women’s basketball team staring back at you. you recognize some of them easily, paige bueckers and kk are two.

your roommate, evie, is leaning over to you and whispering that “paige saw your profile picture and thinks you’re cute so they invited you to the live but it wasn’t really you it was me so i’m bringing it to you so you can get game girl-“

she’s talking so fast you hardly even register what she’s saying. you practically feel your jaw hit the floor and your eyes widen at evie, then at the live, then back to evie. she’s grinning and winking at you like she’s just won you the lottery.

“guys this is her..”

“HEYYY GIRL! my friend here, paige- PAIGE boo stop playin. anyway, my friend paige thinks you’re cute.”

“oh! hey guys!” you’re waving gently and smiling. paige practically ran off screen and you think you might do the same. you’re a little camera shy and the hundreds of people watching doesn’t help anything.

you catch the way paige is peaking her head over the side of the screen and kk pulls her back down quickly. now you’re both looking straight at each other, a silent understanding of how awkward this moment is.

“heyyy, i’m pagie,”

she’s also smiling and waving and kk is in hysterics, as is evie. as terribly awkward as this is, you think paige is very nice looking as well. her wavy hair is down past her shoulders and she’s wearing a uconn jacket with pajama pants on. you’re dressed similarly in your pj’s and a sweater. but you’re definitely embarrassed because you have on an iowa sweater you got from your dad (it’s where he went).

“so you’re an iowa fan?” kk is asking you, one eyebrow raised. you’re blushing a deep shade of red now and hiding your face by pushing your phone back towards your roommate.

what is even happening?

“no guys trust she’s uconn all the way. we watch the games all the time.” evie is answering for you, pushing the phone into your hands again. you can’t tell if you want this moment to end or not.

“that’s good cause paige doesn’t mess with iowa y’know-“

“what?! i never said that! i never said that. iowa is cool.” she’s talking to you now, probably trying to make you feel better. you think it’s sweet how panicked she is. you feel the same.

“so.. girly pops.. do you wanna date paige?”

“kk! what- what kind of question is that?!”

both you and paige are equally gobsmacked but evie is yelling out in the background that you do want to date her.

“i.. um,”

“you definitely don’t have to answer that ma, ignore her please.”

kk is dying laughing and evie is too from her seat against the counter. paige is taking the phone and walking away, yelling at kk to be quiet and stop embarrassing her. you’re laughing a bit too but cover it up for a simple smile.

paige is really cute, you think.

“hey, look, i would actually take you out on a date.. if you want?”

you’re silent for a moment, looking up at evie with shock. never did you ever imagine that paige bueckers would be asking you out on a date, especially not on a tiktok live.

“um, yeah. yes. i would like that.”

she’s got this cheesy smile on her face, turning the phone away for a second. “alright, i’ll dm you. it was nice to meet you. i wasn’t expecting this but it was a really nice surprise.”

“yeah, it was.”

later that night she’s messaging you on instagram asking for your number. she decides to facetime you, apologizing for the whole live and saying she wishes she could see you in person instead.

next thing you know, you’re giving her your dorm location and number and she’s on her way to see you. you consider yourself extremely lucky for such a nice surprise.

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭.ೃ࿐🀥☽｡⋆𓍯 ִֶָ.

I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!!

it’s a bit different but i really like it

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

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makethemhoesmad · 5 months ago

Text

shit you sippin

this took days off of my life to write but at least it’s over 1k words(for the first time ever)

@bueckersstrap was the chosen one

—

some people go to the club for fun. some people go to the club for sex. i needed to forget. get so drunk i didn’t have to think about my piece of shit ex boyfriend and the bitch i walked in on him fucking. i don’t know how many i’d had at this point, but i did know that i was grasped by the hips by an attractive blonde that i thought i knew but couldn’t figure out from where.

“you here for any reason tonight,” she shouts over the music.

“y-yeah i walked in on my boyfriend fucking some other girl,” i say. i try to keep the tremor out

of my voice, staying cool and collected, for the most part. i cock my at her, grinning. she takes my chin into her palm and tilts it up, making me look right into her eyes. my god, her eyes are driving me wild.

“you into girls, baby?”

i shudder at the nickname. collecting myself, i run a finger down her arm while stating, “never thought about it till now, but i just might be.”

“cmon,” she says, tugging my arm. “i’m taking you home with me, baby that alright with you?”

i stare in shock, nodding open-mouthed. she must’ve drank much less than i had, because she leads me out to what i can only guess to be her own car, and after opening the passenger door and helping me inside, she seems to be clear-headed enough to drive.

as she pulls out of the parking lot, i look over and realize who’s car i’m in, and why i recognized her face.

“wait! you’re paige bueckers,” i say, my words slurring together slightly.

“that’s right, baby. basketball fan?”

i almost can’t answer her, all my remaining focus zoned in on her hand that is now resting on my thigh.

“mhmm,” i mumble. she rubs her thumb in slow circles on the inside of my leg. i let my head thump back against the car seat and close my eyes, only to open them a moment later when the car stops.

paige rushes out of her door to open mine, and i nearly fall flat on the ground when i climb out of the car. she pulls me into her, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. i zone out at the action, then trip over a doorframe and realize i’m in her bedroom.

“hey, baby, listen,” she says, sitting me on the bed and rummaging in her closet for something

“you’re, like, really drunk right now, but i really don’t wanna kick you out because i like you. so how ‘bout you put this t-shirt on and we talk about it in the morning?”

i nod, then reach back to try and unzip my dress. i can’t do it. could barely zip it up sober, so there’s no chance i can undo it in my inebriated state. i look up at paige with a pout, hoping that she’ll take pity on me.

she unzips the dress, then helps me put on the t-shirt she gave me. she sheds her shorts and top, leaving her clad in only a bra and boxers.

“god, fucking athletes,” i mutter, shamelessly raking my eyes down her body.

“what was that,” she asks, smirking. i turn red and she pulls me onto the bed with her, tucking us both under the covers. i curl my body into her, hiding my face in her chest.

“ ‘s nothing,” i say, the words muffled. she strokes a hand down my back and i whine gratefully, falling asleep almost instantly.

i wake up confused, sore, and with a boiling headache. i try to roll over, but find that i’m pinned under someone that, instead of smelling of beer and cheap cologne, smells like mint and aloe. shockingly, despite my headache i have a fairly decent recollection of last night’s events. as i’m realizing this, a few things happen. first, i realize exactly who’s bed i’m in and immediately try to free myself from her grasp out of pure embarrassment. second, the strong arms grasping me pull me down closer into the person they’re attached to. finally, said person nuzzles her nose into my neck, and says,

“how are you even prettier now?”

i push my face into the mattress

“ugh, liar. my fucking head, it hurts so bad. like, so, so bad,” i complain. she tries and fails to stifle her laugh.

“hey ma, i’m not sure if you’ve heard this, but i’ve been told head fixes headaches?” i blush, then realize she isn’t kidding when she pulls the covers off of us. she nestles her face in between my thighs, lifting her chin up to yank my panties down.

“you okay, baby,” she questions, waiting for approval. i nod weakly, and she dives in, licking a stripe against my pussy.

“oh fuck,” i moan, my fingers curling around the bedsheets. she flicks her tongue at my entrance, causing my eyes to roll back. when she takes my clit into her lips, it’s all i can do to not release right then and there.

“so good, so perfect,” she breathes while laying sloppy open mouthed kisses on my cunt. i fight to stay alert, but every bone in me wants to sink into oblivion, and when her moan vibrates my core, i do just that. i climax on her tongue, with her name on my lips, and if you had asked me my own damn name in that moment, i probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you.

“how’s that head feeling, ma?” she asks. i look at her in dead shock.

“fucking gone, babe, how can i get you back? i’ve never, like, done it with girls before.”

she grins wickedly.

“oh, baby i’ve got an idea.”

paige’s idea, it turns out, resulted in us not leaving her bedroom until 2 in the afternoon. when i finally checked my phone, i discovered not one, not two, but three missed calls from my now-ex boyfriend, and about a million texts telling me how sorry he was. i show paige, and she just about growls in frustration.

“lemme call him back,” she protests. i shake my head, turning to face her and letting her capture my lips into a kiss.

“pleease,” she whines against my lips.

“fine.”

she opens my phone and pulls up the contact now only labeled with a gravestone emoji, and clicks the facetime. he answers almost immediately, to paige showing off our current position on her couch, under a blanket with me tucked into her side.

“stop textin her, bro. she’s mine now.”

he shouts profanities through the phone, but is aggressively cut off by paige kissing the top

of my head and saying, loud enough for him to hear, “it’s okay baby, now you can be with someone that can actually make you cum.”

he doesn’t like that, but i couldn’t care less.

#paige bueckers #mutuals💀#uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader

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nayaesworld · 14 days ago

Text

Rugged Whiskey

Warnings: Alcohol use, Smut, Toxic behavior and situations

—

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

A/N: Chile Terry is on thee worst demon time in here…

Friday couldn’t come fast enough for Terry. The work week was hard and he was at his wits end with an attitude to show for it. His dark brows scrunched in annoyance and a slight mug on his face as he raced home to wash away the impurities of his workplace. What he needed was a release, and a happy welcome into the weekend. He had settled on checking out a new bar about 15 minutes from his apartment, the reviews were great and the food and drinks looked yummy. Why not check it out?

Fresh out of the shower with a large towel wrapped around his waist he applied a light leave in cream to his short waves and brushed it throughout his head. Outfit laid out like his first day of school uniform, he began getting dressed. A silver wristwatch accentuating his bulky arm, he misted himself down with his Jo Malone cologne,snatched up his truck keys, and headed down to his truck.

He ate the 15 minute drive up…mostly because he drove awfully fast most days, and he spent another few minutes finding a decent parking spot. The bar was jumping and he watched as hotties of all shades of brown sashayed into Sapphire, some accompanied by a man. He read from the digital sign on the front doors that tonight was R&B night and hurriedly paid his fee at the door thanking god he had arrived on time and didn’t have to stand in line.

Terry liked the atmosphere so far. The loud music thumped through the walls and bodies gyrated to the beat of the good music. The music was good and all, but Terry needed hot liquor running through his veins. He found the bar quickly and that’s when he laid eyes on an angel. Had the heavens opened up above and dropped one…just for him?

Low rise jeans with a tight black baby tee with the establishment name on the front and low rise jeans that showed off the arch in her back right above that fat ass. As he got closer to the elegant looking bar with plentiful seating her deep mahogany skin glowed under the warm lighting and her perfect plump lips were lined a dark brown and covered in a shimmery clear gloss.

He subconsciously checked his fit and ran a hand over his smooth waves before walking up yet he was smacked in the face by her beauty and a cute little country accent. He was never prepared for her to fuck his head up like she would.

“Hi, welcome to Sapphire. I’m Khia and I’ll be your bartender. What can I getcha’ to sip on tonight?” With a warm smile and high cheekbones she welcomed him to the bar and Terry’s skin felt feverish when she laid eyes on him.

“Hello pretty… I’ll take any of your top shelf whiskey on the rocks…I’m not picky.” Except Terry was picky, yet he was gobsmacked and grinning like the Cheshire Cat in front of this brown beauty.

He watched her Eeny Meeny, Miny Moe his whiskey before grabbing him a glass to fill with ice and her whiskey of choosing. She topped it with a small black straw and placed a napkin underneath before gracefully strutting back and placing it in front of him.

Terry thanked her and complimented the gold crescent moon necklace that hung from her neck, and next he was complimenting her short square French tip nails and watched as she cracked a cute smile at him. The two fell into a comfortable conversation about a basketball game that played on one of the large TVs and Terry sucked down his whiskey becoming more entranced by little miss Khia.

The layered jet black buss down framed the angel's face, seemingly flowing as they conversed.Her upbeat and cheerful attitude had earned her a five star rating and review on the small tablet in front of him as well as a $80 tip. He didn’t care if she was like this with all her customers and just played her part for a tip. Terry wasn’t opposed to spending money on women, and he didn’t care if the tip was more than gratuity, because he’d already planned on tipping her yet again in cash before the night ended.

She was a sight for sore eyes, her slanted eyes the color of the top shelf whiskey he’d just ordered with a view of top shelf ass to go right along with it. His eyes never left her, and when the bar got busy he moved away to let her do her job.

Women eyed him on the dance floor like hawks. Watching and waiting to snatch him up before the next one did. But Terry knew better, and he was laser focused on the bartender across the room from him. He watched her dismiss the drunk men at the bar with the blow of a kiss, a wave of her hand, and a smirk on her face,simultaneously cutting off their liquor when they got a little too rowdy with her. Flirty and mouthy with cocoa skin, just how he liked em’.

He was on his second glass of whiskey and wasn’t done with the amber colored alcohol. Terry was a dog off that whiskey; it went down hot and rugged and coaxed forward his nastiest thoughts yet it was his favorite drink to consume.

And Khia was a bad bitch, what he wouldn’t give to see her oiled up in his bedroom pop-Terry hurried to turn his head with his glass to his lips when she’d caught him staring again from across the dance floor. He acted busy and stared at the time on his phone screen…12:30 am. Not noticing the bartender baddie sliding from around the bartop to head his way.

A small warm hand pressed onto his lower arm causing him to whip around quickly. “Oh..I’m sorry for scaring you. Do you mind if I join you.. I’m off the clock?” She giggled softly at his startled expression.

“Nah sweetheart not at all…I was actually gonna ask you eventually but you had your hands full back there.” His thumb pointed back at the bar and he led her to a corner table secluded from all the nosey eyes. Up close she smelled of warm peaches and vanilla, a mouth watering sweet scent that filled his nostrils.

She had walked over with her own drink in hand; a lemon drop. When they had talked earlier she’d told him they were her favorite, sweet and easy to make but packed a punch. The two sat at the table rather close to each other and conversation flowed.

“So you don’t like large groups of people or clubs for that matter, yet you work in one?” Terrys raised glass to his lips as he chuckled at her.

“Heyy it pays the bills…and it’s really good money if you know what you’re doing and how to act with different people and personalities.”

“Hmm I hear you…so what kind of personality am I?” Curious and tipsy Terry rubbed and pulled at his goatee, he was eager to hear what she thought.

He watched her ponder over her words for a bit, her pretty face all scrunched up in thought. “Well at first you looked out of place and you kinda had this brooding expression, but then when you spoke it was different. You’re very nice and handsome and you hold a conversation very well…the last two hours of my shift literally flew by.”

“You think I'm handsome?….well I think you sexy asf. Best looking woman in this whole state if you ask me…. pretty girl.” He turned his head toward her, eating up the blush that flashed against her skin.

She nibbled on her plump lined lips and for a few seconds they locked eyes with each other before she scooted closer in her chair. “Are you flirting with me Mr.Terry?…because I assure you I’ll knock your socks off first.”

“And fuck handsome I think you’re fine asf.” She continued. “One of the finest I’ve seen in here.”

Terrys lower lip was tickled by his tongue. It lapped at the whiskey around his mouth and slithered back into his mouth; though he’d rather it be exploring Khia’s body and willing mouth.

“Mmm is that right Miss Khia…you got something you wanna do about that though?” He leaned back into his chair and let his long legs spread open, if it was something she wanted from him he was gonna make her come out and say it and stand on it.

She stood from her seat and offered her hand to him. “Dance with me….this is one of my faves.” Grabbing her hand he let her pull him to the dance floor and he heard the intro to Drunk In Love pour into his ears from the loud speakers.

I’ve been drinkin’, I’ve been drinkin’…I get filthy when that liquor get into me…

She turned to him and sang word for word, because in this moment the lyrics were reality for both of them, tipsy and filled to the brim with attraction and need for each. She turned her back to him and whined her waist against him, tossing her sleek hair from her neck and letting the bass of the song control her hips.

Why can’t I keep my fingers off it? Baby I want you, na-na…

He’d pay her bills and put a house in her name for her if it meant he got to feel her like this whenever he wanted to. His hands slid across her exposed stomach and down to her hips positioning her dead on his crotch. She could let Beyoncé get her in trouble if she wanted to, he would eat her alive.

….You got me faded-faded-faded Baby I want you na-na…can’t keep your eyes off my fatty Daddy I want you na-na..

Under the pulsing strobe lights Terry and Khia grinded against one another. Turning to face Terry Khia let her body drop into a slow squat, using his thick toned thighs for support as she held one hand over her head to pop her ass.

Last thing I remember is our Beautiful bodies grindin’ up in that club… Drunk in love..

And when she slowly rose back up she let her hand graze the bulge that had formed from her little performance. “How’s that for doing something about it?” She giggled into his ear at his dazed expression.

“You know you fine ass fuck don’t you?… I like a confident bad bitch.” Terry pulled a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, palming her thick ass.

One hand pressed against the brick wall and the other on her chin Terry and Khia were lip locked outside the bar. The loud smacking noises were fueled by a deep hunger and lust. Khia’s fingers slid up under Terry’s shirt from the front and she sighed into his mouth at the hard ridges of his abs. She loved a built man and Terry had her damn near melting.

“You coming home with me lil mama?….hmm you want some dick?” Terry pressed his plump lips into her neck and sucked roughly, he was so horny he was sure his erection could break through bricks right now.

“Mm yess I want this dick…I’m so wet Terry, can we go?” Her eagerness to let him slut her out had his pants feeling two sizes too small.

“Where’s your car, I’ll walk you to it…then I want you to follow me to my apartment. Imma give you what you want.”

He watched her dainty finger point toward the sleek aegean blue metallic Honda Civic and they began walking to her car. His hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans pulling a laugh out of her.

“You just can’t keep your hands off of me…let me find out.”

Head cocked to the side he raised his bushy brows “Find out what?”

“That you feigning for this good punani…don’t be shame now Terry I’d be feigning too.”

“Oh so you doubling down…that pussy must be good good then?.., that’s cool because I got good thick dick to go right along with it…that good enough for you Miss goodpuss?”

“Show it to me…I wanna see that dick before I take it from you.” Terry smacked her ass after that. She had a nasty mouth, he had to make her eat her words before the night was over.

They finally made it to her car and she popped the locks and opened her driver side door and sat down facing Terry, watching and waiting. Making sure they didn’t have any prying eyes, Terry loosened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The gray boxer briefs were moist in the front where the head of his dick sat and it strained to get loose.

He slid them down just enough for his heavy length to slip out and leaned against the roof of her car. Khia’s warm hand sliding up and down and lightly squeezing had him throwing his head back and cursing.

“What the fuck…it’s so big and heavy. You just walk around all day with this big dick?…I’ve never seen one so big, I wanna kiss it. Can I ?” All her nasty talking had his heart rate picking up and his knuckles rapping against the hood of her car impatiently.

“You kiss this dick and imma make you suck it too…don’t play with me.” She ignored him and bent down to press her lips onto the leaking tip, juicy lips pecking over the length of his dick in a sick pattern.

“I do what I want Terry, this is my dick for the night.” Terry reached down and pulled her into a kiss. Their heads swiveled left and right as they took turns sucking each other's tongue. Khia’s hand between their heated bodies slowly gripping and pulling at his shaft.

“Fuck we gotta go…imma pull my truck up next to you and you can follow me.” He stuffed himself back into his boxers and made sure she was situated before closing her door.

He wasn’t scared to admit that he damn near ran to get in his truck, he was beyond horny and his skin felt electric. Pulling up on the side of Khia he rolled down his passenger side window and her pretty eyes looked up at him.

“Big man with a big truck…hmm not surprised that everything is big.” She bit at her lip and Terry directed her to follow him.

They made short time of their trip, and the highway was clear of traffic as they pushed their vehicles to get to Terry's apartment. Hands on each other immediately as they stepped onto the elevator leading to his apartment. Terry's hand underneath Khia’s shirt maneuvering around her bra to grab at a titty and pluck her hardened nipples.

The ding of the elevator caused them to jump and they quickly fixed themselves before strolling out towards Terrys front door. He pushed his key in and unlocked the door pushing it open. He showed her where to take her shoes off and walked towards his kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor. His finger motioned for her to come to him.

“Open your mouth…mhm put your head back.” He poured the liquor into her mouth with a hand at the back of her head. Once she swallowed he took a swig and put the cap back on.

“Take off this shirt…let me see these big titties ... .mm so big.” Terry grunted and Khia quickly removed her shirt and went to unfasten the clasp on her bra but Terry moved her hands and stepped behind her to do it himself.

His hands gripped and groped the hot flesh that sat in her cherry red bra. He unfastened the bra and sat it on his kitchen island juggling the soft globes of flesh in his large rough hands. Khia craned her neck backwards pulling him into a needy kiss while he rolled her nipples between his pointer and middle finger.

It was pure erotica. All the shit talking had to be backed up. The floor to ceiling windows in Terrys apartment had been his favorite thing about it when he toured it and now nasty thoughts filled his mind involving them. His hot mouth pressed onto her neck and sucked, he wanted her marked from head to toe.

Reaching his hands around to undo the button in her jeans, he let his hands reach down into her soaked panties. Letting his fingers play around in her drenched pussy, middle finger and ring finger sliding slowly in and out of her. Sliding his wet hand from her pants he lifted the dripping fingers to his nose. Pure euphoria. The pheromones wafted into his nose and he was ready to kick this shit up a notch.

“Undress yourself, then I want you to undress me.” He watched her closely as she shimmied out of her jeans, but made a show of pulling off her panties and that earned her a hard snack to the ass.

“Don’t tempt me right now Khia…all that shit you talked imma need you to back it up mama.” With a cute little smirk to her face she slid the panties off and tossed them into the pile with her jeans.

“Oh I can do that and more, now your turn big daddy.” Terry removed his wristwatch and placed it on the island.

Khia grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started lifting it up from his body allowing him to finish the rest of the way. She let her hands roam over the defined planes of his abdomen and sighed at the small trail of hair that started at his lower stomach and disappeared into his pants. Her hands rushed to undo the buckle of his belt and yank the pants down his long legs. When she finally got to his briefs she giggled in excitement, she had real plans for that dick tonight.

“Don't stop, pull 'em’ down and get your dick…that’s what you called it right?” And she didn’t have to be told twice. When his dick touched her tongue she got greedy, her hands hungrily twisting up and down his hot shaft before feeding it into her mouth. She sucked on his leaking tip further amping him up and feeding her ego.

“You like how I suck this dick?” Her tongue slid further down to his balls slurping and sucking away as his hands began to tangle into her hair. He let her suck him off a few more minutes before he pulled his dick from her mouth and tapped it against her lips.

“Mhm you suck a mean dick I’ll give you that..get up and go stand by the windows I’m just getting started with you.” He pointed her to the large windows.

“I wanna give them a show…let the whole city know I’m fucking on the baddest tonight.”

Terry took his place behind Khia in front the large grand windows, groping and kneading the plentiful flesh of her ass. Pussy hot and ready for the taking he let his fingers slither between her thick thighs again, strumming his thick fingers against her clit. His bold green eyes locked onto her amber colored ones through the reflection in the glass, hands moving a mile a minute inside her and Khia knew she wouldn’t last long.

The clenching and unclenching of her abdominal muscles told her so as she leaned her head back and let him take her away, hands and breast pressed against the window for the whole world to see she felt herself cumming and her body instinctively began to curl away from the pleasure.

Pulling at her hair he forced her upright “Don’t fucking play with me right now…stand up now!” He growled into her ear and popped her ass hard, making her straighten her posture before continuing the assault on her sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh Terry wait wai-“ she began to squirt and it splashed onto the window soaking it right along with the both of them.

Terry removed his hand from between her plush thighs and licked his fingers one by one like they had been dipped in the sweetest icing. Khia turned on her feet and pressed her lips to his, hurrying to suck his tongue and taste herself.

Terry lifted her up and carried her to his bedroom. Mouth full of coochie juice and a handful of fat ass.

She was fucking HIM… it was supposed to be the other way around and yet here she was squatted over him dropping all that weight on his dick head thrown back and titties jumping in his face, she was slowly creeping her hand up to his neck squeezing lightly and sending pulses from his head to his toes. She was backing up all that talk and then some.

“Fuck fuck fuck…Terry this dick..oh I can’t.” She let her bounces slow down and that was her first mistake. He had been waiting for a sign of weakness.

Terry had them flipped over in the blink of an eye, pressing her face into the cool charcoal sheets of his bed. He lined his dick up and slid it in hell bent on fucking her silly and to the brink of exhaustion.He didn’t get tired and had the stamina of a damn thoroughbred. He had her on her stomach flat against the bed, one hand securing her neck and the other on her hip. Khias slippery skin was misty with a sheen of sweat and her wig was hanging on for dear life.

“Didn’t I tell you daddy was gonna fuck you up?…hmm. But no you kept throwing that ass on me, now I gotta knock this good pussy out the frame.”

His thrust were deep and rough, and she was barely hanging on to reality at that point. Each time she’d suck in a breath to soothe herself it would get knocked right back out of her lungs on an endless cycle.

An endless cycle of cumming and squirting had drenched the bed sheets below them and the handsome man with the extra large dick that was tapping at her cervix had her with a stuck look on her face;drool slowly leaving her mouth. But she was going out like a sucker…Mr.Big Dick was winning and mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“That’s all you got?…I know a nigga right now that fucks better than this. Your strokes are weak babe.” His grip on her wig tightened and his strokes sped up, his hips connecting with her ass and a loud smacking noise. Changing positions on her ass, he pulled and positioned her body into an arch placing a bulky bicep around her neck anchoring her underneath his large form. He grunted loudly into her ear hand curling underneath her to flick her slippery clit between his fingers.

“Say that shit again I dare you…I’m fucking this pussy up and you lying about it, I feel that squeezing let it out!” Khia realized quickly this was a losing battle, and holding off her nut in hopes he’d cave first was a failure because he hadn’t cum yet and it looked like he wouldn’t for some time.

“Ahh wait…Terry uhn..daddy please!” Khia was throwing in the invisible towel, he did indeed fuck better than them niggas but she loved to talk shit.

“Now I’m daddy…mm mm stand on that shit mama…throw this ass back!”

With the last bit of strength in her system she began to rock back on him slowly. Her pussy was beyond sensitive and she was extremely dehydrated and overstimulated, all the liquids she’d consumed that day drained from her body like she’d been dealing with a vampire.

“Mhmh and when you want some dick who you gonna call?… say daddy TJ..say it or I’ll stop!”

Terry slowed his stroking to an almost complete stop waiting and listening for her to say what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay…fuck. I’ll call daddy TJ when I want dick shi-shit, now fuck me please.”

Terry sped back up face in her neck sucking and nipping at the sweaty flesh. He was close and was prepared to empty his nut right into her, she deserved it for taking his slaying. The wet queefs from her pussy were music to his ears and he found it hard to hold on as it got louder, resolve slipping and balls tightening.

“Fuckkk I’m about to nut in you… good pussy shit…GODDAMN!” Terry was being drained and he wasn't ashamed of whimpering and moaning in this woman’s ear… this woman with the vice grip for a pussy.

They laid out on the bed, muscles sore and bodies spent. Moving eventually to shower off the nights events and crashed into his bed tangled together not shortly after.

Terry awoke that Saturday to an empty bed and no text on his phone from Khia. His face scrunched up with a mug as he got up to relieve himself and start his morning routine. He explicitly remembered telling her to text him when she left his apartment and yet no damn text.

Taking it upon himself to contact her he shot her a text making sure she had made it home safe and was shocked when his message didn’t go through, and neither did the one he’d sent after that one. Was he fucking blocked? This was not a game Khia wanted to play with him, you give him pussy that good there was no ignoring or blocking him. Did she think all that shit he said last night was a joke…shit she had to and for that Terry had to be on some shit about it.

Khia had just made it in from the Walgreens up the road from her apartment, and was eager to rush and take the Plan B pill she’d just purchased. She chugged down a glass of water and popped the pill into her mouth. She was sloppy last night and though she was grown and only had herself to blame she partly blamed that extra fine 6 '3 demon with green eyes for not using a condom .No man that fine would be denied pussy when he called for it, so to even the playing fields she had blocked him.

The dick was good, hell even spectacular but it also held just a little too much power for her, she didn’t trust herself around that man or his monster penis. She didn’t make good decisions while it was inside her.

The weekend came and went and by that Wednesday Terry was an afterthought. She had even expected him to pop back up at the bar like her other past suitors, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him since last weekend. Maybe he had gotten the memo after being blocked.

But it was always something so funny about speaking too soon… it always came back to bite.

Thursday was one of Khia’s off days, she used it to stock her house with groceries, workout, and tidy around her apartment. Today was no different as she placed her produce and frozen items into their respectable compartments in her refrigerator.

She was due for a run and couldn’t wait to stretch her legs and hit the ground running. Her violet two piece workout set on, tennis shoes tied, and her black beats around her neck she headed to the nearby park she liked to run at, it was less than a block away from her complex so she’d always opted for walking there to get in the extra steps on her Apple Watch.

Eyebrows scrunched with determination she could see the park right up ahead and picked up her pace and finally stepped onto the running trail. Music blaring loud and a steady jog to keep her heart pumping she was proud of her endurance. She was in her zone and utterly and completely locked in, oblivious to the watchful eyes across the street from her.

Was she fucking serious? Terry had been losing his mind with a hot case of being pussy whipped and here she was just..jogging? He realized what he was doing days ago when he had initially followed her home to her apartment after her shift at the bar.Some called it stalking. He called it keeping tabs, how else was he supposed to find out what she was up to?

He watched her go lap after lap and snapped a few pictures for his own needs. She wanted to ignore him cool, he’d make her speak to him one way or another. His truck sat just out of her view across the street from the park, a Birds Eye view on the beauty that was insistent on staying out of his hair.

But something caught her eye and she slowed to a stop and slid her headphones from around her neck, she was looking dead at him.

Like a deer in headlights she stood frozen in his direction seemingly trying to confirm his identity. And it seemed she had confirmed correctly as she moved quickly to put space between the two of them. Fuck.

Though this did little to deter him from her he felt he’d made his presence well known, and that’s all he wanted, for her to know that getting rid of him was not some small feat. She had to know how enticing she was, and Terry would lose sleep letting her know just how she had racked his brain.

The coming days for Khia had left her in a weird headspace. Was Terry stalking her? She’d known for sure that it was his truck she had seen that day at the park and she had made out his bulky figure from the distance. How long though? Had this been going on since the morning she slipped from his bed, was she actually this unaware of her surroundings?

She stared down at her phone annoyed as another unknown number called her. Terry had resorted to text now numbers and this would be the tenth one she’d had to block this week. She would get a text from a new number each time she blocked the last one. Each number sending a picture of her out and about in public completely oblivious to being watched and followed.

There were pictures of her loading her groceries into the trunk of her car and leaving work late at night, the newest one containing her smiling down at the new set of nails that adorned her hands as she left her nail techs suite.

|Unknown: You always fuck men that good and leave?

|Unknown: I love this smile on your face after you left your nail appointment, I’ll pay for the next set Khia.

|Unknown: When can I nut in that good pussy again? Terrence junior sound good to you?

The texts were constant and nonstop,and Khia was realizing a harsh reality about herself. She hated to admit it but she liked it. The cat and mouse game was turning her on and his constant begging for her pussy made her wet at night. She was sick of the games and wanting to be slutted out again, after all she knew the real power was between her legs. One wrong doing and he would be weaned off her cooch again.

|Khia: If you can find out where I’m at in the next hour this pussy is yours again daddy 😉

|Unknown:BET😈

________________________________________________

A/N: 🫣All in favor of crazy Terry say aye…anywho I hope y'all enjoy this bc he only get worse after this!! And I’m obsessed with these two so there will be another part, love ya bye 🫶🏾

@avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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The Best Kept Secret on the Grid {6}

Summary: It's Christmas Eve which means eating out and going home for secret Santa. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, oral WC: 1.5k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Christmas Eve Your spacious penthouse seemed small when it was filled with the egos of a dozen formula one racers. Lewis, Charles and Pierre lounged on the sofa watching a basketball game on the tv. Carlos, Logan, Daniel and Lando were at the wet bar competing to make the best cocktail while Oscar judged them, and not just on the cocktails either. Fernando was using Esteban and George’s height to hang Christmas decorations around the apartment.

The rest of the drivers would have come but other commitments had kept them from joining you for the festive celebrations. You had a little present ready to be sent at midnight and you knew the video would only make them wish they could be with you even more.

Footsteps padded along the hall before your bedroom door opened and you caught Max’s eyes in the mirror as you applied a vibrant shade of lipstick. “You look beautiful.”

You rose from the vanity seat and turned slowly to show off the dress completely, blowing him a kiss when you faced him again. “Thank you, Maxy.”

He curled an arm around your waist, his hand meeting your skin where the backless dress left you bare, and he tugged you against him. “Ready for dinner? I’ve been told the appetiser is to die for.”

“That is high praise from a man who would be happy with a bag of Doritos. Will you tell me where we are going?”

He smirked as his hand drifted down over the material that covered your ass. “Just wait and see.”

The restaurant was unassuming with an unmarked door, and if it wasn’t for the seven sports cars lining the street you never would have known you had reached your destination. You never saw the kitchen, or the staff, as you followed Max and Lewis to the only door that had light spilling from it. You were beginning to doubt it was even a restaurant until you reached the room and found a large round table set with mouthwatering scents permeating the air.

“There’s a seat missing,” you pointed out as the men took their places.

“How could we forget you, darling?” Lewis chuckled as he held a hand out to you.

“We have one for you right here,” Charles said, swiping the middle of the table that rotated at his touch.

“Are you wearing anything under that pretty dress, ma chat?” Pierre asked as he toyed with his plump bottom lip.

Max’s hands ran down your thighs before dragging your dress up until it reached your hips, a collective sound of pleasure answering the question. Lando turned Max’s chair around and offered his hand to steady you as you stepped up and onto the table.

“Are the chefs aware this is a BYO first course?” you teased as you sat down and reclined back on your elbows.

“No,” Max chuckled as he took his seat and spread your legs. “But we have napkins for when you get too loud.”

Lando’s hand ran up your calf, drawing slow circles over your skin and Lewis placed your heel on his shoulder, kissing your ankle. At the opposite end of the table Pierre took your hand and tugged you flat on your back so you could reach his collar. Tugging his tie, you pulled him in for a kiss that inhaled the gasp that came when Max ran his tongue along your slit.

Hands caught the bodice of your dress and bared your breasts, deft fingers teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure from their worship and you didn’t know whose kiss, touch, lick or bite belonged to who as you writhed in ecstasy.

Your mind was already a dizzying mess when the room spun and gone was the ticklish beard that had burned your thighs when Max feasted between your legs. The new mouth that sealed around your clit was just as skilled as he sucked and licked you into a frenzy, but the cheeks that pressed to your inner thighs were smooth and gentle on the heated skin.

Your back arched as your muscles tightened and your legs tried to close before new hands spread them wide. “Fuck, George, don’t stop, please…”

Your needy whines grew louder until Nando grasped your jaw and opened your mouth to shove a napkin in. “Shhh, corazón,” he soothed as he stroked your cheek. “We’ll give you what you want, just not yet.”

The table turned and the orgasm that was within reach faded with a frustrated cry. Their taunting laughs only made your core clench as you squirmed as you impatiently waited to see who’s seat you would stop in front of next.

“Sounds like you need some help, sweetheart,” the young American drawled, his fingers running through your wet folds.

“Typical All-American hero to the rescue,” Lando joked to your left.

“Please…” you begged through the napkin as you reached for Logan’s hair. His smirk disappeared between your legs and bliss returned with more stars dancing across your vision than there were on his flag.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as the pleasure mounted and you were rewarded for your patience with a mindblowing orgasm. Still, he didn’t stop his ministrations as the waves rocked through you and hands pinned your hips down while they drove you to overstimulation.

The tower clock down the street chimed as midnight arrived and you grinned as you eyed the stack of presents under the tree. “Please, can I open just one?”

“If you open one, you have to open them all,” Max replied cryptically.

“I’m fine with that,” you hummed much to their amusement and he patted your hip with permission. You tested your steadiness as you climbed off his lap and found your legs had regained their strength. Your boys had really done a number on you in the restaurant, they were surprised you were even still awake.

Kneeling on the floor beside the tree you grabbed a very neatly wrapped box with a large silver bow in the centre. You gave it a shake and felt something move inside but there was no noise to indicate what it was. Turning it around you found no name on it and frowned. “Is this one for me?”

“They’re all for you,” Esteban said, sharing a smirk with Charles who then said, “You should be able to guess who they are from.”

“Aha, secret Santa,” you giggled before reaching for the biggest gift first. You tore the silver bow open and flipped the lid of the box before plucking the ruffled crepe paper away. “Oh, wow.”

The guys had gathered around and they chuckled at your reaction as you wrapped your hand around the shaft of the dildo. Your fingertip traced the delicate veins that your tongue knew intimately and you met the pair of dark eyes it belonged to.

“Thank you, Lewis.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“That was too easy, go for an average size, but no less important, present,” Daniel said with a grin.

Lewis laughed and reclined back comfortably. “I can’t help that my dick didn’t fit in the same box.”

You scanned the rest of the boxes and your jaw dropped in realisation. “How did you even think of this?”

“We thought you might miss us when we go away for training and testing after the holidays, or miss a part of us at least,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“I miss every part of you,” you assured them as you grabbed another box and tore into it. “But this will make the nights easier to bear until Bahrain.”

You pushed the shredded paper aside to see a fluorescent green cock, a laugh escaping as you picked it up. The head was wider than the shaft and your mouth watered at the memory of the many times you had tasted Lando.

“This is very bright,” you said to him as you stroked the phallus.

“So you don’t lose it,” he grinned proudly.

“Yours glow in the dark?” Carlos huffed as he took it from you and inspected it for himself. “I wish I thought of that.”

“You wish you read the instructions properly,” Lando teased before tipping his head to you. “Someone didn’t know you had to shave before sticking your dick in the mould.”

Max winced along with Oscar and Charles rubbed Carlos’ shoulder patronisingly until he shrugged it off and grumbled, “I still have a bald patch.”

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

His warm brown eyes lit up at the offer and his hands instantly reached for his belt. “Do you know how long I have had a hard on for?”

“The same as the rest of us,” Oscar muttered as he took the replica of his teammate's dick and marvelled at how realistic it was.

“I can think of a few things to help with that,” you said as you waved a hand over the presents. “I mean, Santa’s already come, so why shouldn’t you?”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #formula 1 x reader

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loveshotzz · 10 months ago

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love?

Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week.

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught.

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out.

Oh no.

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too.

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack.

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.”

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes.

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name.

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!”

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again.

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics.

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours.

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around.

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance.

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along.

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-”

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries.

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump.

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry.

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.”

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit.

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change.

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips.

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop.

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek.

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm.

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself.

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible.

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real.

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again.

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs.

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,”

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?”

“That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.” He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours.

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.”

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n

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defrosted69 · 7 months ago

Text

My Laker Star P.3 (Kang Haerin)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hey everyone. Here's a finale of this series. After a long sleep in this platform, I have returned briefly. I hope you all enjoy this one. And one last tip from me, I suggest you listen to the song "First Love" by Hikaru Utada throught out the story, especially at the end of this one. I promise you, you wont regret it.

(7.3k words total)

With everyone looking asleep, her light footstep led her through each room of the hostel, and she had to double-check to make sure everyone was still groggy from yesterday's schedule. She didn't have to open the third door any farther since her Unnie's heavy snoring was audible.

"Welp, at least I know she's knocked out."

She thought to herself before once again tip toeing her way to the living room. With a swift motion, she turned their TV on, sat on the couch, covered herself with her blanket and switched the program to...

The NBA channel.

"Welcome everyone to a chilly night here in downtown LA as we are in for a treat for an exciting match up between the home team, Los Angeles Lakers and hot winning team in the east, The Indiana Pacers. Tonight we'll get to see a match up of Point Guards between Y/N McDaniels and Tyrese Haliburton. "

"That's right Mike, tonight we'll get to see the NBA best passers duking it out to see who's the best passer in the NBA and lead their team tonight to victory. Will the Pacers extend their winning streak to 5 games or will they fall to the 10th seed Lakers?"

"Y/N with the ball. Bringing the ball half court. A screen from Wood and he's bursting to the lane and throws it down right at Myles Turner! Wow!"

"Oohhhh. Right at the face of Myles Turner Mike! That's all elevation. Wow! This kid is incredible man"

Haerin's eyes had never been so wide with joy as she watched you play your heart out on the court. Every shot you fired, she'd hop up and down, leaving her seat, but she'd understand she shouldn't make too much noise. Her smile never left her face while the game went on. But perhaps this was also her weakness since while she's engaged on the game, she frequently, if not always, forgets about her surroundings.

"With 12 seconds left, the lakers trail by 1 and we all know where the ball is going. Y/N is doubled team. Here we go, Austin looking, Looking, passes it to Y/N. Doubled team, crossed to the left shoot-OHHHH!! Fouled and-1, 4 point play by Y/N! How did he do that?!"

"Hehe, Your so good Y/N!"

"Oh he's cute."

Haerin flinched hearing another voice next to her. Her head has never turned so fast in her entire life and so did her member who chuckled seeing her reaction.

"U-Unnie?"

"Hmm? Why are you looking scared? Did you lose your parley?"

"My what?"

"Nothing. But why are you watching basketball? I never knew you liked that sport."

Danielle yawned slightly as she sat comfortable on their couch. She awoke inadvertently by sliding out of bed while dreaming she was leaping out of a plane. Haerin's cheering was the first thing she heard, which jolted her awake. Because Haerin seldom celebrates or cheers.

"Uhhh ummm... Uhhh.."

Haerin used her normal mental lag to make it appear as if she doesn't know, while also buying time so Danielle lost interest in the issue. Knowing that she has a short attention span, Haerin used this to her advantage, making her believe she had no knowledge.

And somehow it works.

Danielle was weary of watching Haerin say nothing and stare at her like a cat. So she did what the majority of her members do, and by that she meant herself. She pounced for Haerin, cuddling her like a gigantic teddy bear, and Haerin simply accepted her faith. In her opinion, this was the ideal circumstance for getting Danielle to stop pestering her about the channel and why she would rather watch and experience the excitement and delight of basketball alone. Even if she has members who adore her like she is their own sister, Haerin was still holding back her excitement for athletics.

As Haerin glanced at the television, she spotted you being interviewed, and her normal poker face changed into a smile as she saw the team win and you being named the game's best player. Of course, given that you are the team's top player, it is unavoidable, but your accomplishments always strike a chord with her.

Because she has followed your path as well as her own, she knows the difficulties and sacrifices you have made to become who you are. In a way, she believes that whatever you achieve in the league, she achieves as well.

She felt such a strong connection to you. It was a rare occasion in which you could relate to someone. She doesn't look up to this idol, but she can connect to their experience. You can't help but support someone no matter how different you are. Haerin was in the Kpop sector, while you were in the professional sports world. Two different worlds, yet she idolized and looked up to you because she admired your narrative and couldn't help but compare it to hers.

Many others may label her clinging, insane, or too committed to a fake link that does not exist, but Haerin thought it was genuine. The instant she saw you dribble down the court in the house Kobe constructed, she knew you were the guy she would look up to.

Despite her claims that you are her idol, as a Kpop idol, she is repeatedly asked in interviews who her idol is, but she can't speak your name without recalling a sad experience. That trauma prevents her from properly revealing who she looks up to. There were several opportunities to utter your name, but when she opened her mouth, there was only stillness and heated air.

"Hmm? Basketball? You two liked watching basketball?"

A smaller girl asked them as Hanni woke up from her deep slumber. She was ready to face whatever they had today and what she didn't expect to see first thing in the morning is their TV on and set on the NBA channel.

Of course, it's not as if they don't watch sports; it's just that they don't watch them all the time. The majority of them understood what basketball was and how it was played, but none of them were big fans of the sport in general. If Hanni classified them as fans, they'd fall within the casual group. Only heard about it and saw excerpts on Twitter or Instagram.

"Hmm? Oh no It was just there when we opened the TV. Probably Manager Oppa was watching NBA replays last night before he left."

Danielle spoke on Haerin's behalf as a cover, and she smiled slightly, grateful for Danielle's reasons. It may have been a falsehood, but Haerin appreciated her efforts to cover for her.

"Ah I see. Well I'm going back to bed. Don't tell Minji thought."

And with those words stated, Hanni returned to her room to continue her nice sleep. The group did not appear to have any planned activities for the day, therefore it was a rare occurrence when they had a day off. With their notoriety, they seldom had days off, but they used them to rest. Danielle released go of Haerin's grasp and gazed at the girl before speaking.

"Okay you gotta tell me now why you like Basketball and why are you hiding it."

Haerin's eyes expand slightly, despite her customary blank expression. She didn't expect Danielle to be that tenacious about something because she typically loses interest quickly. But this time it was the opposite: Danielle wanted to know the truth behind Haerin's passion of basketball. Her curiosity couldn't be contained, and she'd do anything to find out why.

"Because I'm simply a fan of it Unnie. There's nothing too deep to talk about it so stop whatever your thinking Unnie."

Haerin's response took Danielle by suprise litterally and figuratively for 2 reasons.

One, When Haerin said those words, Danielle noted how her brow wrinkled downwards, as if she was furious at her for asking such a question. She felt as if she had insulted her in some manner she didn't understand. All she did was ask an innocent inquiry.

Secondly, This was the first time Haerin had spoken to her in such a chilly and menacing manner. The group has been together for three years, and they recognize each other even when they close their eyes. They can readily identify who is who when given a description. Despite this, Haerin was never as frigid in her responses to any of them. Haerin's statements conveyed a hostile tone, which both scared and worried Danielle.

This was nothing the Haerin she knew about that's why she was left speechless and stunned to say anything back at her. She couldn't formulate any thoughts on how she could reply back towards her. Seeing the shocked and stunned face of Danielle, Haerin sighed a long one before standing up saying

"Sorry, I'll go somewhere for now. I'll be back before dinner Unnie."

As she rose up from her seat, she went to her room to change into a shirt and joggers, covered by a Nike jacket. She then grabbed her basketball, which was on her floor. All Danielle could do was watch Haerin depart their dorm, astonished and perplexed as to what had gotten her so defensive about the subject.

"Did I touch a sensitive topic for her? But why?"

Danielle pondered that concept as she lay flat on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling, seeking to connect the dots. And trying to find what she was seeking for.

"Well that's the end of our season. What's your plan Y/N?"

As the squad finished their final game of the season, everyone in the locker room had different reactions to how their season ended. Some believed they did well, while others felt they could have done more to strive for a postseason seed berth, but the odds were not against them because health was the clear asterisk for this squad. Many of their major players went on to miss over half of the season combined. You and Austin Reaves were the only two players on the club who never missed a game during the season, but it wasn't enough.

Add in dubious coaching throughout the season, and the entire roster wondered if their coach ever trusted them. Players who were doing admirably were suddenly forced to take DNPs due to an experimental roster that had never played together before. It felt like they were competing against each other because no one knew what sort of play style they all had. Everything was just a mix of terrible luck and dubious coaching that led to this team's season-ending ouster.

"I don't know. After the exit interview later, I'll either sleep or sleep."

"I get you man but how's you and that Korean chic?"

Austin's inquiry simply made matters worse for you, as the thought of the season ending tonight left a bad taste in your mouth. And now AR had to bring up the subject with you and Yunjin. Heck, the entire Lesserafim was something you had to consider.

Relationships are something you're not sure you're ready for. Although you are dating Yunjin, there are serious uncertainties about whether you actually loved her or were simply swept up in the moment. Obviously, everyone in Lesserafim was lovely and attractive in their own right, but there was something lacking. When you think back on your time with Yunjin, you notice something is lacking.

You don't know what it is but you wanted to know more about it.

"Still dating. I'm planning to head to Korea later on actually. Take a break or something. I need to clear my mind after all this Laker stress man."

AR could only laugh at you, knowing it was the wisest thing to do after this disastrous season. Your body needs to recuperate after working so hard for the team. It was sad that you accomplished so much to keep the Lakers afloat in the standings, but it wasn't enough. Your amazing comeback against Milwaukee, your 57 points against the Bulls, your clutch three-pointer against the Celtics, resulting in their sole loss of the season, and lastly, your 1,000 assists, making you the youngest to accomplish this achievement.

All of that effort went for naught, as the Lakers couldn't even get a whiff of the eighth spot beginning in February. Since then, the Lakers have fluctuated between the 10th and 12th seeds in the last week of the regular season. Obviously, the media was criticizing you for not being able to lead the club to victory, given that LeBron is retiring, AD's contract expires this offseason, which means he's gone, and this will now be your team.

But having 2 hall of famers on your roster, yet you can't win?

Stephen A. Smith and Skip Bayless will surely have a field day with your name tomorrow morning. But you just let the so called analytics talk whatever they want because that's what makes them relevant. All you can do is accept the criticism and be better for the next season.

As you ended your farewell interview, you informed the reporters that you attempted to accept responsibility for your mistakes this season and improve for the next. Although several individuals attempted to hint to the coaching problem, you just responded that some plays were supposed to work and others did not. Shading individuals is not something you do while you are still relatively new to the league. You are practically sealing your legacy at this time.

However, with the exit interview behind you, the disappointment lingers as you drive. Your mind was continually reminding you that you could have done better, but that is how it is. The season ended unexpectedly due to a variety of factors. Aside from the fact that the season ended earlier than intended, you may have also considered AR. Did you truly adore Yunjin? You didn't want to be disrespectful to Yunjin or anyone in Lesserafim since we were discussing sentiments. One false action and all may be ruined in an instant.

Checking your phone, the image of you and Yunjin glowed under the screen and somehow, the smile you used to have begin to disappear. Surely this was a normal feeling right? After all it's just a wallpaper.

"I need to see her"

With each stride Haerin took, the court got closer to her. Nobody in the firm, including her members, knew about this location behind their company, which was often utilized for rubbish disposal. But Haerin spotted a court with a sturdy hoop. The green patch was visible in the little gaps under the concrete floor, yet it did not upset Haerin at all.

She dribbled the ball one time before releasing a pure mid-range from 15 feet away from the basket.

Only for it to brick the basket, Haerin laughed as she missed her first shot. She waddled to catch the ball and fired it from the board for her second shot. Haerin was dressed comfortably, similar to her rehearsal attire.

As the ball swished through the net, Haerin's smile seems to get bigger and bigger at every shot she made. She was making easy shot such as Jumpers and running layup but as time goes forward, Haerin decided to intensify her shots.

As she dribbled the ball away from the basket near the 3-point line. She took one deep breath before dribbling the ball forward with her body in a propelling angle. As the ball bounces off the hard concrete ground, she crossed the ball towards her left hand and started to sprint while dribbling the ball. With the net nearing her sight, she stopped her dribble before turning her back against the net. She half shifted to the right before fully rotating to the left for a hook shot that swished through the net.

As the ball bounced off the ground she giggled as she finally done perfected one of your move. She wasn't just loving the game of basketball but she also loves the iconic moves of the NBA legends and all-star.

But despite her love of the game, she couldn't forget the painful memory that comes at the cost of enjoying basketball.

She was introduced to the sport at a young age by her uncle who's a crazy fan of basketball. She recalls the times she was invited to watch her uncle play the sport in some local gym. The joy and smile he had while playing the sport was what got her hooked. But as she picked up a ball, everyone suddenly started telling her that the sport isn't for her.

"Kid, you should play with barbie dolls and houses. This game isn't for you."

Those words from her uncle's teammate still haunts her to this day as they labeled her sport by her gender. As young as Haerin was, that was first true heartbreak for her because she felt helpless and devastated to hear those. And she would have just brushed those thoughts aside if it wad kids around her age but no, it was adults who told her to stop dreaming about playing basketball.

Her uncle of course defend Haerin to the point, everyone almost got into a scuffle only for the GYM owners to separate them apart. But despite the fight not continuing, the damage had already been done to her as all she can do was look down as her uncle walked her home.

"Say Haerin. Wanna shoot some mini hoops?"

"No need uncle, I'm not born to play that sport.."

Her uncle sighed as he regretted having Haerin watch her game. He didn't expect those dudes to call out a child like that who just wants to have fun. He ruffled her hair as Haerin pouted at that action. She had always hated it when her hair gets shuffled unexpectedly and this was no different.

"Uncle-"

"Tell me Haerin. Did you enjoy watching me play basketball?"

"Of course!"

"Do you want to play the sport?"

"But I'm not allowed to.."

Her uncle chuckled seeing her cute niece look down in shame. Life have always been a suprise to many and right now, Haerin thinking that Basketball is only played by one gender is false.

"Haerin-ah, Nobody should stop you from enjoying what you want. If it makes you happy, you should chase it and never look back."

"But Uncle-"

"Haerin-ah, Don't follow the crowd, my dear child. Instead, listen to your heart and create your own path. True happiness comes from within and when you stay true to yourself."

The smile that her uncle had that day showed her a bigger picture. Despite people wanting to pull you down, there will always be someone that will support you through and through. Haerin believed in the words of her uncle and stayed true to herself.

Basketball became her sport as she grew older, and her parents were very supportive of her. Despite her peers playing and growing up with gentle games, Haerin likes to dribble and shoot like Curry in their garden, envisioning her shots as game winners.

But as Middle school comes around, she was once again faced with adversity that had her scarred for life.

It was during their Physics Education period and their teacher wanted them to play sport games. Some groan some were smiling and Haerin had her poker face on, but internally, she was smiling ear to ear. As they all went to the school GYM. Haerin immediately picked up the basketball and what happened next was something she didn't expect to happen.

"Eh? Why are you picking up a basketball Haerin? Don't tell me your... Into that stuff."

As one of her classmate said that, everyone else followed to stare at her and at that exact moment, her heart began to act differently. Their eyes suddenly became so big and their shadows tower over her making her feel like she's surrounded by giants.

Her heart starts racing, beating erratically against her chest like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape. The air around her seems thick and suffocating, making every breath feel labored and shallow.

Her mind spirals into a vortex of irrational fears and negative thoughts, amplifying each sound and sensation until they become overwhelming.

A distant murmur transforms into a deafening roar in her ears, while the touch of fabric against her skin feels like prickly needles. Panic takes hold, gripping her tightly in its invisible claws, leaving her helpless and vulnerable.

Every attempt to regain control only fuels the anxiety further, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of fear and distress. It's as if her body is betraying her, turning against itself in this unexpected battle for sanity.

She couldn't handle it anymore as she dashed through the crowd, holding and closing ears from the murmurs that echoed through the area. Her heart beating so loud telling her to keep running and never look back. Tears falls off her cheeks as her eyes had uncontrollably started shedding her tears without her command.

But unlike before, She had nobody to run into.

Her uncle had died, leaving pleasant memories of Haerin to keep her sane in the harsh world they were living in. But her passing meant she'd lost her primary source of support and idol. Haerin was left alone to confront the world of misery and agony, and she was currently submitting to it all.

She couldn't handle everything on her own.

Haerin groaned and gazed at the ball for a few seconds before continuing to dribble away from the hoop. Since then, Haerin has kept her passion of basketball to herself, never sharing her excitement for the sport with anyone. Her parents were surprised that she wasn't sweating every day shooting hoops in the backyard, but instead watching YouTube videos in her room.

She had closed the door of enjoying the sport with others and decided that this sport is only for her to enjoy and nobody else.

It didn't matter if she would harshly push anyone who tries play basketball with her, it didn't matter if it was her own members who wanted to play with her. She would immediately decline and ignore their invitation.

dribbling the ball, Haerin shoot a long 3 pointer that sinks right into the net effortlessly. And her shot wouldn't go unnoticed.

"Nice form"

A sudden voice alerted Haerin as she flinched and froze on the spot. As the ball rolled further away from her, it stopped once it reached your foot. You kneeled down to pick up the ball and gently gave Haerin a chest pass to which she managed to barely catch. She was star struck to see you face to face with her.

"Ummm...I'm sorry to ask this but are you.. Y/N McDaniels?"

Haerin shyly asked as you laughed and nodded your head at her. Your arrival in Korea was unexpectedly faster than what you thought. The private Jet that the Lakers provided you not only drived so fast but it felt like a 10 minute ride. Technology sure is scary.

"That I am. You shooting hoops?"

"Ah yes!"

Haerin suddenly pulled her smile back immediately despite seeing you in person. But she also felt like her demeanor of playing alone changed when you arrived. It felt like she was still playing by herself and alone. She shook her head off that thought and shoot her shot, but it bricked the rim as you jumped in and grabbed the ball.

Knowing the rules, Haerin went under the basket ready for a rebound as you took the ball out and shot a wide open 3 pointer, only for it to brick as Haerin chased it down and grab it. This process continued for quite sometime with the only words exchanged between you two were "Nice one" and "My ball". Some would argue this was awkward to be in but Haerin didn't feel like it. She felt so naturally free whenever she's on the court but with someone sharing the court with her? She never thought about it until you came.

As the two of you sat down to catch your breaths, You offered Haerin an extra water bottle you had in your bag to which Haerin shyly accepted. With the two of you sitting quietly, you decided to break the ice and speak first.

"So, what's your name?"

"Vanessa Kang..or you can call me Haerin.. Sir."

You laughed at her formality with you but dismiss it since it didn't bother you one bit.

"No need to be formal Haerin. It's just us two hoopers here anyway."

"Umm...Its just your my idol and It's not easy for me to drop the honorifics."

Haerin fidgeted her fingers as she looked down. She didn't know how to act in front of her idol because, most of the time, she is the one who draws attention due to the large number of her supporters. But, right now, she's a fan and you're the idol, so the positions are reversed.

"It's fine Haerin. I'm not that old yet anyway."

"Yeah 3 years apart.."

"What?"

You blinked a couple times before staring at Haerin who's face was completely red. She just dropped an important information about you and now her identity was fully blown. Haerin gulped before turning her head to look at you with a complete red face.

"I'm guessing your a fan of mine?"

"Ummm......yes.."

Haerin soften her voice on the last part as she wasn't confident on being your fan but your sharp ears managed to hear it. You laughed full heartedly at her as she looked at you confused. Was her approach wrong that you got the wrong idea or she had something on her face?

"Sorry, Sorry I just find it cute how your being shy admitting being a fan of basketball."

"Ummm...I just don't want people to see me differently.."

Your smile slowly disappeared after hearing the words that Haerin spoke. What she said raised your curiosity as you didn't understand what she meant by it.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just... Went through a tough time of people accepting that I like basketball more unlike other sports.."

Although you haven't heard much about her tale, her voice was enough to tell you that she went through hardship while trying to play the sport that she loved.

"Haerin, Happiness doesn't come from the words of others, it comes from the voices of your heart."

Haerin widen her eyes as your words reminded her of the words spoken by her own uncle. She looked at you as you gave her a warm smile.

"Don't let others dictate your happiness, Make it your own Haerin."

She felt her uncle's nostalgia in your words. Even if the words were altered, the message remained the same. To be joyful regardless of what others say. That was what her uncle had told her about life in general, not just hoops. She aspired to be an Idol because she enjoyed dancing to music. She wanted their music to be heard and enjoyed by their listeners.

Your comments triggered a deep memory for Haerin, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Not long later, she lost control of her tears and began weeping. You worried when you saw her break down because you didn't know what to do. You chose to softly touch her back while Haerin sobs slowly. You weren't very good at emotional scenarios like this one, and you thought it would calm her down. You didn't have your handkerchief when you really needed it.

As Haerin calmed down, she wiped the remaining tears on her eyes away before looking at you with a soft stare.

"Thanks and.. Sorry for crying out of nowhere."

"It's fine. That's okay. Maybe we can shoot hoops again to clear your mind?"

Haerin laughed at your idea, but she nodded, knowing that it would undoubtedly help her clear her mind. As the two of you proceeded to play hoops, Haerin's cat curiosity took over, and she questioned why you were here in the first place.

"Y/N, can I ask why your here in Korea?"

She said after passing you the ball in a perfect bounce pass. You chuckled at her question before releasing the shot for a 13 feet jumper.

"I'm just here to confirm something is all."

"Really? What's it about?"

"My own feelings"

Haerin widened her eyes slightly before handing the ball back to you, since this surprised her. Someone in the country seemed to have taken interest in the guy she adored. She isn't sure whether she would be joyful or sad. She may be thrilled since a celebrity like you like someone from her nation is something she should be proud of. Sadly, that wasn't her.

Haerin quickly flushed scarlet as she thought about it, because it came out of nowhere and was so strange for her to think about. Her cheeks were flaming, and her heart was beating faster as she watched you dribble the ball up to the rim. She swallowed nervously, as that unexpected notion had forever altered her perception of you.

Haerin had seen you around the corporate building for weeks, but as the days passed, the grin on your face faded, which bothered her. She wanted to ask you about this, but all she could do was shoot hoops with you to alleviate your concerns. But the more she learned about your position, the more she questioned if she was even suited to be around you. Your statements showing your perplexity and irritation with Yunjin make her feel like she's nothing more than a pillar of strength for you.

She doesn't mind it, but she wished she was in Yujin's position.

Even if she is your wall of support, she hoped that a small part of herself is what you are seeking for instead. Since the prospect of you entering her life, her attitude toward you has drastically altered. She found herself doing something she didn't often do, which surprised her members. When she shoots hoops with you, she wears everything from light makeup to red lipstick and blush. Minji observed this recently, and as the group's leader, she had to ask her why their beloved cat has been acting strangely lately.

"Haerin? Can we talk?"

"Oh, sure Unnie."

As Minji enters her room, she looked around her room to see nothing out of the usual. So she took her seat on the edge of her bed.

"I was just wondering, What are you doing outside? You seem to be going outside lately. Is there somewhere your visiting?"

Minji's questions didn't have any vile intentions in them but rather a voice, of a worried and curious leader. Haerin wanted to shake her head to deny her claims but your words rang through her head. She wanted to find that happiness and she knows she can't fully enjoy that happiness alone. She needed to take a step forward away from her comfort zone and see what lies beyond.

"Yeah, I have been playing basketball again."

"Really? That's so cool!"

Haerin couldn't believe it. Someone aside from her said that the sport she's doing is something amazing. She was expecting the usual reaction from her previous encounters of this confession yet this time, it was the opposite.

"Unnie, you don't find that... Weird?"

"Of course not! Why would I find you playing basketball weird. In fact I want to see you play. Oh, Maybe we can all play basketball sometimes! I can set up a date-"

Minji couldn't continue her statement because Haerin cut her off with a warm, tight embrace. For the first time in her life, Haerin felt relieved that she no longer needed to close the door. She felt less alone than she had in a long time. For the first time in a long time, she met someone who understood her.

"Unnie.."

"What’s wrong Haerin? Do you want to invite the members too? I'm sure they would love to play with you."

"No Unnie, I'm happy. I'm just happy and thank you."

Minji couldn't understand where Haerin was coming from, but with her appreciation, she could only see it as a positive thing. As Haerin continued to hug Minji, she realized she might need some help with the preadicament she was facing.

"Unnie, Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it Haerin-ah?"

"Umm.. Is it okay.. For a girl to like a guy.. Who's like trying to like fix their relationship that don't seem to work and, she's acting as the guy's support, but he doesn't know that the girl has developed feelings for him. Or is that wrong?"

Minji pondered on this thought as this was something she wasn't familiar with. But with her expertise in watching K-Drama on the television, she has one answer for that one.

"If that's the case, I suggest the girl to stop being the guy's support because as I see it. She's becoming a rebound for the guy. Well unintentionally that is."

When Haerin heard those words, she stopped her breath for a moment as a little pain struck her heart. Being labeled a rebound is the last thing she wanted to be termed. But when she thinks back on her time with you, she was your rock, and every tale she hears about Yunjin tears her heart apart.

That wasn't happiness for her.

Perhaps it was time to listen to her Leader's advice and be the person that she has always been. A girl who loves performing in front of her fans and enjoy playing basketball.

"Yeah, Your right Unnie. Anyway I'll be at the court now."

"Okay, Alright. Be back before dinner okay? And stay safe."

Haerin chuckled hearing the words of their eldest and leader as she identically sounded like her own mother with her tone and delivery.

"I will."

With a clear understanding of what she needed to do, she made her way to the court where she had become accustomed to meeting you. With every step seeming to be loaded with the few memories you two shared, it felt bittersweet that she was willing to let go of everything in such a short period of time. During that period, she became aware of numerous things she had previously avoided.

Being able to enjoy basketball without being bothered by others, finding satisfaction in the company of others, and generally enjoying life. Despite the brief time together, she has become connected to you, which is the terrible part. She's terrified of facing you now. She is unsure how she will deal with you after this, or if it is best to simply withdraw from your life for ever.

What Hurts more is she's letting go of her idol.

The person she looks up too.

The person she admire so much.

The person she fell in love with.

And

The person that will break her heart.

Just thinking about the night hoops you played and the late-night food tour across Seoul makes her melancholy. Haerin had become a tourist during the day and a wall of support at night. Haerin was eager to be at your side, and she couldn't remember how many times she ran to the court only to be your ear and shoulder to depend on.

As this idea occurred to her, it became more difficult for her to continue her trek towards the court since her eyes were already filled with tears for you. She had never thought that loving someone could be so difficult. She never considered the possibility of love since she never took such things seriously. She couldn't understand why her Unnies were so obsessed with romantic dramas and other aspects of love.

But now she realized, what love is.

And she got the bitter part of it.

Taking a deep breath, she continued on with her walk as she spotted you sitting on the bench watching the passing cars go by. Your presence alone makes her heart flutter and make her knees go weak. As you wave and smile at her, the heat crept it's way up her cheeks as she continued her descend on the stairs towards the court. But her eyes never left you and as soon as she took one misstep, her foot slipped and was stumbling to-

"Gotcha. You alright Haerin?"

Your buffed arms managed to catch her fragile small body as she directly stared at you with admiration and with love. Her heart raced faster than it was earlier and this was a scene straight out of the romance movies. After catching herself, she immediately pushed you away standing up by herself as her action caught you by suprise

"Haerin? Is everythin-"

"Please... Let's stop seeing each other."

As hard as it is to hear someone say that to you, Haerin is the one who is most saddened. By confessing those words, she is letting go of all the memories she has with you. But, more crucially, she is willing to let you go.

"Y/N, The last few weeks has been nothing but a blast I had with you and nothing can replace those moments with anyone. You thought me what it means to be happy once again but more importantly, you helped me realize how to enjoy basketball once again."

"Haerin.."

"I became your wall of support and ear whenever you visit Yunjin and I understand that. You and Yunjin are meant for each other and probably trying to fix the relationship you two had. I don't want to be a nuisance to both of you once you two figured it out.."

As her emotions have caught up to her words, she tried to suppress the tears that was slowly falling down her cheeks as she immediately Wipes them off. With every second passing by, her heart was being torned apart.

"You know Y/N, because of you, I enjoyed things that I usually don't do. Like applying lipsticks, using the eye liner, using lip tint, applying blush on, and wearing cute clothes. Before I'm only doing those because I'm a Kpop Idol but with you, I enjoy doing them because of you. "

"Haerin.."

"I want to say goodbye, but that would be too sad and I don't want this to be the end of us meeting. So Y/N.."

A soft breeze passed you two by as her hair danced with the air showing a long haired beautiful angel crying.

"I hope to see you again."

With those last words spoken by her, her heart has completely shattered into thousand pieces. She couldn't look you in the face or else she might breakdown completely. So turning her back around, she was ready to let you go and move forward in her life.

"Preety Kang, who said this is the end?"

You smirked as Haerin stopped on her tracks. Your voice still had a huge effect on her as you took steps closer to her. Panic began to rise all over body as she didn't know what will happen next.

"You said you were a nuisance? I called you a ball of sunshine."

"Stop it..."

"You said I showed you happiness? How can you be so sure when YOU'RE my happiness."

"Please.. Stop.."

"All my life, I have watched opportunities slip by my hands. And Days I spent with you were the opportunities I didn't slip by. Because of you, I learned who I am."

"Y/N..."

"Kang Haerin. I'm not letting you go anymore. My heart beats for you and only you. If your not ready now, I'll wait and I'll keep waiting until our paths cross again. Because if Love didn't happen, I wouldn't have met you."

"......"

"Kang Haerin, The girl I love is you."

Haerin had never twirled so fast her life as she spinned back towards you and jumping into your body as you catches her. Her tears couldn't be controlled anymore as she cried her heart out not out of sadness this time. But in happiness.

"Y/N!!"

"I'm here Haerin. I'm here."

As you stroked her hair, Haerin buried her face in your chest, weeping gently as she heard your heart's lovely rhythm. She couldn't believe her modest wish had come true. For you, the decision was not simple. The way you went to korea hoping to connect with Yunjin failed. You tried your best to make your heart beat for her but despite the efforts, Haerin was the one chiming your heart.

Every time you go closer to Yunjin, your mind only sees one cat, which was unjust to Yunjin. You had to tell her the truth, but Yunjin was the first person to say farewell to you. She knew the minute you first dated her, your heart couldn't hold her. No matter how hard she tried, she could see straight through you, and when she saw you smiling genuienly, she knew someone had already stolen your heart.

And she didn't want your friendship to be broken due to one-sided passion. As terrible as it is for her, she genuinely loved you and chose your happiness above her own. She understood that love needs sacrifices, and she was prepared to make the biggest sacrifice of her own love for your love story.

You shed your own share of tears as Yunjin said her farewell to you because despite not fully loving her, a part of your heart truly did loved her genuienly and honestly. It felt heart breaking despite not truly loving her. It confuses you but with one door closes, another one opens.

As you looked at your lock screen, the picture of you and Yunjin was difficult to remove. But, knowing that you and Yunjin had failed, you pinned all of your hopes on one girl. The girl who has been with you since your arrival and is the only one who has remained in your head and heart.

Haerin, your constant companion and supporter during your time in Korea. Her temperament and beauty are too appealing not to notice her. Not only that, but she keeps you smiling and understands how to connect with you. She was everything you didn't realize you needed. You still recall the day your heart sang for her. When you were rushing away from a paparazzi at night, her warm little hands entwined around yours, and her charming grin brightened the darkness. At that same moment, you knew your heart was pounding for Kang Haerin rather than Huh Yunjin.

You were so stupid because you figured it out too late and today was suppose to be day you told her everything but it seems Haerin was the first one to beat you too it.

"Do you mean it?"

Haerin gazed up to meet your gaze, her cat-like eyes looking more lovely than ever. You nodded, stroked her hair, and returned to burying her face on your chest. Her behaviors made you laugh because they were so charming.

"I love you Y/N.."

She backed away, sneaking a quick kiss on your cheeks before whispering gently. Thinking you hadn't heard her, you bent down to kiss her forehead, making her blush even more.

"I love you too, My Laker Star Haerin. Hehe~"

You smiled wholeheartedly at her, just like Haerin did, despite her cheeks going red. Both of you were experiencing the joys of love as fate brought your hearts together.

As Yunjin looked down at the building's glass windows, she watched the guy she genuinely loved embracing a girl he deserved. Her heart ached to see you with someone else, but she knew you were the one known as "Right Person, Wrong Time." She smiled sadly as she shed one final tear staring at you.

"I hope you treat him right Haerin. Because he was once My Laker Star too."

#kpop fanfic #fluff #kpop #fanfic #newjeans #fanfiction #haerin #newjeans haerin #basketball #lakers #le sserafim #huh yunjin #jennifer huh

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sweetbans29 · 9 months ago

Text

Hey You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader

Summary: You and Caitlin have a history - from growing up together to dating in high school. You both decided that it would be best to end things before going to college and that's what you did. Little did you know that seeing each other nearly four years later would have you both admitting things should have been different.

Warnings: You are looking at some angst, some suggestive themes and some fluff, nothing too crazy ;) mentions of head injury

Word Count: 6.0k

Hey You PART 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hi and welcome! This is my first writing and would love any feedback or ideas! I hope you enjoy!

You were sitting in the backseat of your friend's car rubbing your hands on your jeans. Your friend Jamie was driving you and two other friends to the women's NCAA basketball game in Cleveland. All of you attended a university in Pittsburgh and thought it would be a fun girls' day to go watch the championship game. It was going to be iconic and deep down, you knew you wouldn't miss it for the world. You had been following the teams closely this year despite the squeeze to your heart that came with seeing her name. Looking out the window you continue to rub your hands on your pants.

Your friends all knew Iowa was home for you and that you played basketball growing up. They knew you had friends who ended up playing college ball but an injury you suffered junior year of high school caused you to shift gears when it came to college. They also knew that you and Caitlin Clark had played high school ball together - but that was all they knew on the subject. They didn't know you had grown up together and had been best friends since the first day of sixth grade or that she held your heart in high school and may or may not hold it today.

As you look out the window your mind begins to wander back to when you were young...

It was the first day of sixth grade and your family had just moved to Des Moines, IA for your dad's job. Starting at a new school at the start of junior high was not ideal but you were determined to make the best of it. As you entered homeroom - you took a seat next to another girl who wasn't completely dolled up due to it being the first day. You didn't say anything as you sat down and pulled out a notebook that was completely covered in NBA stickers. The girl next to you perked up when she looked over and saw several familiar faces, even some of her favorites.

She leans over and points to one of the players and says, "That is one of my favorites." I look up at her with a huge smile and reply, "He is great but not as great as Kobe." She nods in agreement and we continue talking about other players who made their spotlight on your Fivestar notebook.

Fast forward to freshman year of high school - you and Caitlin are at pre-season training. Both of you had a single goal in mind which was making varsity. You knew she would make it no problem, but for you, it was going to take a little more. The two of you put in the work, when you weren't at training you were either at a park practicing or at her house training. When you found out you both made varsity after all those hours of hard work you went out to get froyo to celebrate. The night ended with a sleepover at yours that included a movie marathon and many many snacks.

When you snap back to being present with your friends, you realize you are already at the arena. You take a deep breath and get out of the car with your friends to brave the lines to enter the stadium. It was amazing to see the attention women's college basketball has gotten during March Madness this year. The spotlight on all the teams in the Sweet Sixteen, then the Elite Eight to the Final Four all leading to today had brought a lot of attention to the sport and the players. Not only the spotlight on the teams but the spotlight put on Caitlin was something that never really surprised you as you knew how incredible she was and is. Seeing how much she had blown up made you proud of the player she had become but also rattled the box you had put her in that lived in the deepest part of your heart. As you are standing in line to get in, your mind takes you back again...

It was the summer before junior year and your mom and dad just surprised you with your own car. You freaked out and couldn't stop thanking them. Of course, it was their pleasure as you were almost the perfect child. Caitlin was already on her way over as you had plans to go out to get food before having a lazy day. The two of you always worked hard but on the other side of that, you both had major lazy days throughout your friendship. These lazy days consisted of movie marathons, pillow forts, naps, and all the snacks you could ever imagine. The beginning of these days stemmed from making plans one day but you were both so tired you ended up napping on the floor in Caitlin's living room, never seeing the light of day.

Caitlin pulls in and you come running out pointing at the car in the driveway. She jumps out of her car and you both freak out and jump right in. After grabbing food you headed back to yours and settled into the pillow fort you had set up before she got there. You throw on Princess Diaries and you both are knocked out within the first 20 minutes.

When you feel yourself come back to consciousness, you notice the only light in the room is coming from the TV screen. You also felt extremely hot. As you begin to move you feel a squeeze around your torso. Looking down, a smile appears on your face as you realize Caitlin is cuddled into your side and hugging you as if you were a teddy bear. Your arm is draped around her back as her head is nestled into your neck. Her breath is steady - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It was slightly comedic as she has a solid few inches on you but when she was curled up into your side she looked like a little girl. You slowly start to rub her back and you hear her groan and bury herself deeper into you and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

This wasn't the first time that you both had ended up cuddling next to each other on a lazy day. It had become more common over the last few months than it had been before. You noticed it was typically Caitlin who ended up cuddled into your side but every blue moon you ended up in her arms. Once one of you woke up, you would usually break apart almost immediately - secretly both wishing it would last longer. It all felt so natural that neither of you questioned it. Due to how dedicated you both were to your sport neither of you really had time for boys or relationships so you both just leaned into each other.

You continue to rub her back until you feel her fingers play with the backside of your shirt - this is your signal that she is no longer asleep. Neither of you made a move to untangle yourselves from the other and that was when you knew that the feelings you were pushing down for your best friend might be reciprocated and that alone was enough to hold her even tighter.

Later that night you took your new car and went to get ice cream. You both sat there for hours talking and laughing. That night held your first kiss with Caitlin. It was in the parking lot of your local grocery store, a pint of ice cream in the center console. It was nothing crazy but as you drove back home with her hand in your hand, neither of you could wipe the smile off of your face.

You are brought back to reality when your friend nudged you for the tickets as you were next to get them scanned. While you didn't have to worry about the drive, you were tasked with getting the tickets. Grabbing your phone, you open up your tickets for the guy to scan. As you all pass through security at Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, you make your way to your seats before braving the sea of spectators to grab yourself some food and a drink (there was no way you were getting through this whole event without a drink by your side).

The usher directed you to where your seats were and you were insanely grateful that you were the one to choose where you all sat. You choose the same section you always supported Caitlin in your senior year of high school...

It was the championship game junior year of high school and you were in the starting lineup. The game was going to be a tough one but you had no doubt in your mind that it wasn't yours for the taking. Everything was perfect. You were already talking to a couple schools to play in college. Caitlin and you had been dating for a few months and you were going to ask her to be your girlfriend your next lazy day which so happened to be tomorrow. Everything seemed it was going your way.

The seconds were counting down in the second quarter and the score was 38-38. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you were not going into halftime tied. You were passed the ball as the seconds ticked away. The other team had just scored, which gave your team possession with just enough time to make something happen. As you made your way down the court you scoped out the scene in front of you. The other team was doing everything in their power to avoid yours from scoring.

Your first vision played out was getting the ball to Caitlin, knowing she could make it happen but the girl defending her was doing a damn good job of keeping her just out of reach. You then scanned to my other teammate Jada who you knew was great at getting the ball where it needed to go in the nick of time. As you were about to pass it her way you took one final look at the clock and realized that time was just about out. You made the decision to take it up the middle, faking the defender that was covering you and going for a quick layup on the left side. As your last foot left the ground, before you knew it you were back against the ground with a pulsing head and pain shooting everywhere.

You don't dare move, you have no idea what just happened. There is a ringing in both of your ears and your vision is blurry and the pain - the pain has your body shutting down to protect itself. Your eyes start to close slowly as you faintly feel someone grab your arm as someone appears in your sight. It takes you a second to realize it is Caitlin - you give a small smile. Then everything goes black.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That is the first thing you hear as you start to regain consciousness. Confusion hits almost immediately as the last thing you remember is getting ready to play the championship game. You begin to wiggle your fingers and they feel sore, now that you start to feel more - everything is sore.

Before you decide to open your eyes you try to take a deep breath. Yet another thing that is painful to do. You decide you need to open your eyes to figure out where you are and what has happened. As your eyes open, it takes a few blinks to get a clear picture of what is in front of you. You are in the hospital, in a hospital bed. The sun is shining in through the window and you start to look around to see if you can find any clues as to what has happened. There are no casts or bandages that you can see but when you make a minor move in the bed it felt like you got hit by a truck.

Your mom was in the room reading a book. When you began to move, you let out a groan which caused her to look up and quickly make her way to your side. As she gets to your bedside, your dad makes his way through the doorway.

"Baby girl, oh baby girl," your mom begins as she gives you a hug which really only causes more pain to shoot around your body but you weren't going to push her away. Your dad comes and sits on your other side and takes hold of your hand.

"Hi sweetie," your dad says. You look up at him and with your eyes try and get him to explain what had happened, knowing your mom wasn't in a state to do so.

"You were taken out seconds before the halftime buzzer went off," he began. Your eyes lay intently on him. He takes a moment before continuing. "You were going for a layup to put your team ahead going into halftime and a girl from the other team misjudged your movement and body slammed you causing you to go head-first into the ground."

It then all started coming back to you, the pain that shot straight to your head and trying to not pass out. You let go of his hand and start to feel around your head. It had a wrap around it which you didn't even think about when you were making your first assessment of what had happened. Your dad continued.

"You were rushed to the hospital due to your ears bleeding and you not waking up. The doctors determined you had a skull fracture and took you to an emergency surgery. Everything went smoothly and you are recovering well," your father says with sad eyes. If there is anything you know about your dad it is that he shares your dream of going to a D1 school to play basketball in college. The way he was looking at you right now, you immediately knew that even though the surgery went well, everything you had hoped and dreamed about was all about to change.

You continued to listen to how your parents were so happy you were alive and okay and that you should make a full recovery - even though you knew deep down that it truly wouldn't be full. You had learned that it has been almost 2 days since the game. Your parents step out of the room to give you some time to rest - even though you couldn't look at a screen that just left you sitting there with life-changing news. You looked around to see if you could find your phone to text or call Caitlin when she made her way through the door.

She looks just as beat up as you feel. As she walks up to you, she avoids eye contact which you so desperately wanted. Without saying a word, she comes up to your bedside and slowly makes her way into the hospital bed with you. You lift your arm and allow her to curl up by your side. A deep breath finally escapes your body and as you exhale you can feel her body release silent sobs.

All you can do is rub her back. Lying there with her has jogged your memory that she was the last face you saw before you blacked out on the court. Knowing her, these past two days were probably a living hell. You muster up all the strength you have to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

Not many people knew about your relationship. It was really only family and your coaches. Being on the same team, you both decided it would be best to keep your relationship between the two of you. It was a challenge at times but everyone knew the two of you were best friends so there were a lot of things that you did that people wouldn't look twice at.

One thing about Caitlin was that certain things were enhanced when you two started dating. Most of the things didn't affect your day-to-day like the amount of sweatshirts she stole doubled (which didn't bother you as you would just steal hers to replace the ones she had taken, it got to the point where it started a playful argument over a sweatshirt that she swore was here but was actually originally yours). Another that affected her more than either of us really realized was how protective she had become.

You first realized this when you got fouled at practice and Caitlin got all up into her space yelling at her. You had to grab her and pull her away which then led your coach to call for everyone to do suicide sprints. You don't even want to think about the girl who fouled you in the game and caused you to be hospitalized.

"Hey you," you say as it had sort of become your way of saying 'hey babe' without the world knowing. You feel her shift in your arms as she brings her hand up to wipe away her tears.

"You scared me," is all she says before letting out a few more silent sobs. You continue to rub her back and give her shoulder a little squeeze.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," you respond with a laugh. The laugh hurts but decide to keep quite about your pain, only quiet to Caitlin, never your doctors.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled up on the hospital bed. When the sun starts to go down you tell Caitlin she should head home to get some rest. She protests, of course, but ultimately folds to your request. She comes over and gives you a quick peck which leaves you unsatisfied. You grab her hand and pull her back to give her a proper kiss. As your lips part you mumble a breathy 'I love you'. It was the first time it had been said between the two of you in a manner that wasn't referring to your friendship. The smile that spread across her face lifted your soul.

"I love you," she replies as she leans down pressing her lips against yours. "Well not I REALLY don't want to go," she says with a laugh.

"One night won't hurt anyone - also you need a shower," you say making a face to try and sell the fact that you just called your girlfriend smelly. She scoffs and waves you off.

Following getting out of the hospital, it was a hard reality to face that you weren't going to be able to play ball for a long while. The journey ahead was a long one and you couldn't be more thankful that Caitlin was right by your side.

Two of your friends were coming back with beers when you snapped back to where you were. It was just about time for the athletes to come out and begin their warm-ups. Your heart began to race as you heard the announcer call the teams out.

As both teams make their way onto the floor, your eyes scan for her. As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help yourself. It took about a whole 5 seconds to find her. Your heart stops and it feels like time slows as you see her running out and making her way to warm up. The first thing you notice is how even after four years, she starts warming up from the same spot. She is on the opposite side of the court facing where you are sitting getting ready to start her pregame ritual. You then notice, how her upper body has filled out a little more as she has matured and increased her strength training. Her hair is in a neatly pulled-back pony with a headband to catch her flyaways. She was as cool as a cucumber.

There were so many things that amazed you about Caitlin but one of the biggest ones was how calm she was before a game. Especially a game like today.

She was completely mesmerizing. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that she was living her dream. You watched her as she continued to warm up and couldn't wait to cheer her on.

The seats you had chosen were right across from Iowa's bench. every game you watched your senior year of high school was from this exact location.

As the warm-ups come to an end and they are just about to announce the starting lineup, your heartbeat begins to quicken...

Going into senior year, your relationship with Caitlin was better than ever. It was a tough journey to come to face the fact that you weren't going to play ball your senior year but you put all that extra energy into loving and supporting Caitlin. You still went to practice and your coach sort of brought you on as an assistant coach. It was great still being a part of the team.

You decided to play the role of the supportive girlfriend during games rather than sitting on the bench with the other players and coaches. It wasn't that you couldn't sit on the bench, rather it came from knowing how competitive Caitlin gets. She didn't need another person telling her how things could have been different or better, she needed someone who was going to cheer her on no matter what and get her out of her head when she got tunnel vision. She was the hardest person on herself.

Before every game when they called her name in the lineup as starting point guard and she made her way down the line of girls she got to the end and pointed to you with a smile. Then at the end of every game, you would wait down the hall of the girls' locker room and greet her when the team got out of their post-game meeting. It became your guys' things.

You weren't expecting it. It didn't even occur to you but when they announce her name and she makes her way down the court and at the end of the line she points directly in your direction and smiles. Your heart stops and she stops in her tracks, her smile dropping immediately. She does a double-take and just stares at you for a second. A small smile starts to creep onto your face and her eyes are on yours. You give her a little nod and she finally breaks away shaking her head with a smile growing on her face. She joins her team for their first huddle of the game.

Your heart feels like it is beating out of its chest. You had imagined it a thousand times since your friends mentioned wanting to go to the championship game. It was the reason you chose these seats. Even in all of the fantasizing about seeing her - you didn't imagine it to actually happen. There were thousands of people in this arena and her eyes found yours.

As the team is in their huddle, she stands up and looks back over at you. A smile now playing on her lips in full view as she can't stop glancing over to the familiar spot.

You want to go down to her and tell her to focus on her coach. Her head needs to be in this game and not turning to look up at you. Although the frequency of her looks brings butterflies to your stomach with every glance.

Once they break, the game begins and you can see Caitlin lock into the game. You cheer with all the other fans as the final game of her college career is underway.

The game is a complete nail-biter. There were times when Caitlin absolutely was killing the game, shooting her signature threes and playmaking. At other times, she let the ball slip and you knew that she would hold onto that but never let anyone see how much it truly affected her. She was really good at shaking off her mistakes in the eyes of others but you knew her too well.

As the game begins to come to an end and you can see the victory slip away from Iowa, your eyes focus on your girl. She is staying composed but you know she is feeling it. In the final minute of the game, Caitlin makes her way to the bench, hugging each one of her coaches then takes a seat with a blank stare.

Your eyes try to stay away from her but she naturally draws your attention. In the final seconds of the game, as South Carolina begins to celebrate Caitlin's eyes make their way to yours. You only hold them for a second but that was all you needed to know she was hurting.

The game ends and you see the team head into the locker rooms. Your friends decide to head to the floor to see if they can talk to any of the players (more like the player's brothers), You use this time to sneak away and try to find the Iowa locker room. You know there is no way they would let you in but you start sweet-talking the security guard. In less than 2 minutes, you were pacing in the same spot you would always wait for Caitlin after a game. As you wait for her, your nerves pick up as your mind continues to take you down memory lane...

You and Caitlin had just graduated high school and you were celebrating in your favorite fashion, with her curled up in your side. The plans the two of you had for the summer were laid out on the floor next to you. It was going to be the best summer and indeed it was until it wasn't.

It was a few days before Caitlin needed to head off for off-season training at the University of Iowa. You were hanging out at her house in her gym. You both had been avoiding the elephant in the room.

It was a conversation you both knew you needed but didn't want to have. You knew that Caitlin's only commitment was to play D1 ball which was once your dream too. You also know to do that, she couldn't have anything holding her back.

The two of you finish some conditioning which leaves you both panting and sitting on the floor.

"As much as I love you, I hate doing cardio," you say in between breaths.

"Ya well, my favorite form of cardio involves a lot less running and a lot more of you..." she says with a smile. "Caitlin!" You gasp and push her over as she bursts out laughing.

You let out a few laughs yourself but then hear her quiet down. Looking over at her, you see her whole mood shifts. She comes in and hugs your torso, burying her face in you. You scoot closer to hold her, knowing what is about to come next. It feels like hours pass before you decide to speak.

"Caitlin, you know I love you. And I want the world for you. You are and will always be my best friend," you say rubbing her back. She squeezes you even more. "We both know where your head needs to be when you head to training. You will always be my person but in this next season you need to be your teams' person."

Silence fills the space again. Your eyes begin to fill with tears and you swallow the sobs that taunt your lips. Then she finally speaks.

"You are my person," she says just above a whisper, you almost miss it.

"This doesn't mean I will stop being your person. Like I said, I will always be your person. We both knew this was coming and we have done a really good job of putting it off," you try to lighten the mood. She doesn't budge.

She lets go of you and sits up. You wipe away her tears. They just keep falling.

"I just don't like the idea of losing you," she says as she starts playing with a piece of your hair. "You aren't losing me, babe," you reply but both of you knew that wasn't true.

"This was always the plan," you start. "And I will always be cheering you on," you say with the best smile you could muster. No matter how much it would hurt you would support her until your last breath.

"So that means you will be at the championship game when I take Iowa to the NCAA championship?" her question lightening the mood.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," you say as you give her one last kiss.

You are pulled back to reality when you hear some of the players head out. Caitlin was typically the last one out of the lockers and with the way you knew she was feeling it was going to be a minute.

It is about another 15 minutes of you pacing in the hallway for the door to open again. Your head whips around to see her coming out. She looks completely defeated. She would never show this side of her to the press.

As you turn to face her, she looks up. You say the only thing that felt right.

"Hey, you."

She immediately makes her way to you. Your arms wrap around her as her head buries its way into your neck. Despite her being taller, Caitlin loved to be held as if she was the shorter one. Your heels were definitely helping.

"I really wanted that," she mumbles into you after a few moments. You rub her back like you always used to. "I know...I know."

"Your legacy is so much more than that one game and I am so beyond proud of everything you have accomplished," you begin. "And with that, I know this was one of your dreams." Caitlin stays quiet and sinks into being held by you.

The two of you finally break apart, her hand doesn't leave your arm and you can't complain. You missed her touch so much. You missed her. She keeps rubbing your arm and you feel like you will melt.

"I have to head into a press meeting, but can we catch up later? Are you staying in town?" Caitlin asks.

"I came into town with some friends, we are staying at a hotel a few blocks away. Call me when you are done with press?" You reply hopeful.

"I'll call you the second I am out," she ways with a smile. Oh how you missed that smile.

You head back to the hotel you are staying at to change into something a little more casual. Your friends checked in and told you they were going out to a bar and wanted you to meet up with them. You let them know you were catching up with an old friend and that they shouldn't wait up for you. You get ready to meet up with Caitlin - changing your shirt and shoes into something more comfortable, keeping the jeans you wore to the game. Right after you finish changing your phone begins to ring.

"Hey you," you answer as you begin to gather a few things in your purse.

"Hey babe," Caitlin responds causing your cheeks to blush and your stomach to fly. A smile is plastered on your face. "I am out of press and am going to head to my hotel, would you be up for meeting me there?"

"Of course, just shoot over the address and I will head that way," you say as your phone pings. She was already sending it as you asked.

"I will see you in a few," she says before you both hang up.

You make your way to her hotel which is surprisingly only a 10-minute walk. You follow her directions on how to get up to her room and knock on the door. The nerves begin to build up and you feel like you are back in high school. Your hands make their way to rub against your jeans, a familiar place for them today.

Caitlin opens the door with a huge smile on her face as she moves away to let you in. "I thought it would be better to meet here, a little more privacy," she says as she closes the door.

The two of you spend the next 4 hours catching up on life and how college has been. She talks about all the records she has broken and how she can finally start looking at what comes after college ball. She talks about her family and how much they miss you. You follow her by also mentioning how your parents are so proud of her and miss her as well. You continue by talking about how you are going full-time with the company you are working for post-graduation. You talk about all the traveling you have been able to do and she gets to pitch in with the travels that she has done. It was like no time as passed, I mean above all you were best friends.

As the conversation begins to die down you realize how close the two of you became. You are sitting on a couch with your legs hanging over her lap and her hands on your knee.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes and take in the moment. You feel her hand begin to make its way to your thigh.

"Seeing you in the crowd today was something else," Caitlin begins. You cut her off, "Well I made a promise once to be there if a certain someone that if they made it to the championship, I would be there."

"If???" Caitlin yells with a fake offended tone and slaps your knee. You let out a little yelp, "Okay, okay, when." Your eyes roll as she starts to draw patterns on your leg.

After another long pause, Caitlin speaks again.

"I think we made a mistake," she says not daring to look you in the eye.

If you were going to be honest, you never wanted to end things when you went to college but you weren't going to make things harder than they had to be. Long distance wouldn't have worked for the two of you. You would have managed but with her schedule and yours, it would have done more damage than good. So you didn't fight her but there were numerous times that you wish would would have fought for her on ending things.

"I think I made a mistake," she continues as she finally looks up at you. You take her hands in yours and reply, "It was the right decision at the time. We didn't know better, we were young."

You continue. "But that was then and here we are now," touching her arm and giving it a little squeeze. After seeing her and how she has filled out, you have been waiting to get your hands on her arms. "And we are both about to graduate and my plan was to come back to Iowa..."

"There is no one like you," she says as she leans closer to you. You let out a little laugh.

"No Caitlin, there is no one like you," you say as your hand comes up to cup her face. You both smile as your lips meet. It is like no time has passed, her lips are still so familiar.

After a few more kisses, you both moved to the bed. She curled up into your side and your arms made their around her. You are her home and she is yours.

"I love you," you whispered as you kissed her head.

"And I love you," she responds as you both drift to sleep, more at peace than either of you have felt over the past four years.

AN: TADA! Let me know your thoughts! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

Now go check out PART 2!

#caitlin clark #cc #caitlin clark x reader #iowa hawkeyes #caitlin clark imagine #iowa wbb

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