╰┈➤brooke, she/they, 02 baby. black, libra/taurus/gemini. 2015 army, new fanfic writer (nov 2025). min yoongi enthusiast. castiel and natalie scatorccio defender.
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╰┈➤MDNI! my work and recommendations will have mature themes, minors dni you will be blocked!
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if you are interested in donating to an organization/shelter dedicated to helping victims of domestic violence, consider checking out these websites to find one in your area:
domesticshelters.org - U.S. and canada based, “the first and largest online and mobile searchable directory of domestic violence programs and shelters in the U.S. and canada, and a leading source of helpful tools and information for people experiencing and working to end domestic violence.” you can also donate directly to domesticshelters to support their programs and services.
kering foundation - europe based program with “long-term partnerships with a targeted number of specialized organizations and women's funds across six countries.” on this page, you can filter by country (italy, france, korea, the U.K., the U.S., and mexico).
also found:
korea women’s hot-line - created in 1983 to protect and support women survivors of violence and promote gender equality in korea. over its 40+ years of operation, the organization has helped thousands of women to escape violence and rebuild their lives. korea women’s hot-line coordinates and promotes activities aimed at shifting cultural and societies attitudes about gender-based violence in the country, with a focus on domestic violence, sexual violence, and violence against women migrants.
if anybody else knows of any specific organizations or shelters, feel free to add.
i need people to understand you can be a fan of somebody and still critique them. you can love somebody so much and have that be the exact reason why you are disappointed. wanting someone to own up to their mistakes or poor decisions is not hatred
i’m glad to see the majority of armys are against the ai collab but there’s always the select few that think having one single criticism of bts means you hate them and want them to be dragged through the mud and thrown into a dumpster fire and they always seem to have the biggest platforms somehow
the ai bubble needs to pop faster i’m sick of older relatives sending me ai reels asking me if the product or information is real ITS ALL A FARCE!!!!!! END MY MISERY!!!!!!!!!!
Summary: You were fine with your life after years of building walls to protect yourself. What happens when a basketball coach you never saw coming starts breaking them down?
Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x F. Reader
Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst, Hurt-Comfort,
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Drinking, Swearing, Past Domestic Violence, Drug reference.
A/N: I did it! I focused and I finished it!
The bathroom mirror is slightly fogged from the heat of the shower, but you can still clearly see the unmistakable colors of the shirt you just pulled on. It is vibrant green with bold gold lettering across the chest. BEARCATS BASKETBALL.
You pull your hair back into a quick, messy ponytail, taking a deep breath as you stare at your reflection. The fabric feels familiar and heavy with family pride, but as you look at yourself, a nervous flutter dances in your stomach. Today is the day. The semifinals. The ultimate clash between your family and the man who currently has his car keys jingling out in the hallway.
You trace the hem of the green and gold shirt, a small, soft smile touching your lips. Last night, Yoongi had caught you staring at it in the closet, and he’d simply kissed the top of your head, whispering, "Wear it proud, Doll." He meant it, too. But that doesn't mean the pre-game trash talk hasn't been absolutely relentless all week.
When you step out into the kitchen, the atmosphere is already full of energy.
Jungkook is sitting at the island, aggressively inhaling a bowl of cereal, while Jimin is leaning against the counter, holding a mug of coffee and looking thoroughly amused. Yoongi stands near the coffee maker, completely decked out in his Ravens black and blue hoodie.
The moment you walk into the room, Yoongi’s dark eyes snap to you. His gaze travels down to the bright green and gold fabric of your shirt.
"Traitor," Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of flakes, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I can't believe we let an enemy sleep under our roof."
"Ignore him, Y/N, you look adorable," Jimin chimes in. "And more importantly, did you secure the goods?"
You open a cupboard and place a Ziploc bag of Sarah's legendary thick, gooey chocolate chip cookies right on top of the counter.
"The bribe has been secured," you announce, sliding the bag toward Yoongi. "A peace offering from the Bearcats camp. Sarah said if you lose, you have to return the container. If you win, you owe her 50 bucks."
Yoongi looks at the bag of cookies, a slow smirk finally breaking through his serious coach exterior. He steps away from the counter and closes the distance between you.
"She's playing dirty," Yoongi murmurs, as he reaches out.
His large hand doesn't grab the cookies. Instead, it comes down on your hip, pulling you gently against his side.He looks down at you, his hand smoothing over the band of your jeans just below the hem of the green and gold shirt. Up close, you can smell the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the rich aroma of the black coffee he's been nursing.
"Fifty bucks is a steep price for a peace offering," Yoongi says, his gaze shifting over to the massive bag of cookies. "She's lucky these look as good as they do."
"Ugh, gross. Can we not do the domestic romance before 9:00 AM?" Jungkook groans, dramatically shielding his eyes with one hand while using the other to shovel another massive spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "Some of us are trying to focus on the psychological warfare of the semifinals."
"Don't listen to him, Yoongi. He’s just mad because he knows if the Bearcats pull off an upset, Y/N is going to cast the game to the tv in the living room and make Kook watch the replay." Jimin just chuckles, taking a slow sip from his mug.
Yoongi lets out a low, breathless laugh against your shoulder. He doesn't let go of your hip, instead tightening his grip just enough to pull you a fraction of an inch closer.
"There aren't going to be any upsets today," Yoongi says softly, his eyes dropping back down to meet yours. The lazy smirk is gone, replaced by that intense, hyper-focused look he gets right before he steps onto the hardwood. It’s the look that makes the Ravens the most feared team in the district. "But if your people want to give us a run for our money, tell them they better bring more than just chocolate chips to the court."
He finally reaches out with his free hand, snagging a single, thick cookie from the top of the bag before tossing the rest into Jimin's waiting hands.
"Eat up," Yoongi announces. "The car leaves in twenty minutes, and I want everyone on the floor for warmups before the stands even start filling up. Let's go."
"Good luck, Coach," you tease, tilting your head up to give Yoongi a quick kiss on the jaw before he can completely switch into full-blown strategy mode.
He catches your lips for a brief, lingering second, his thumb giving your hip one last gentle squeeze.
"Drive safe, Doll. See you at the school," he says.
With a final wave to Jimin, who is already happily inspecting the cookie stash, you grab your keys and head out to the garage. The drive over to Nick and Sarah’s place gives you just enough time to shake off the nervous energy. By the time you pull into their driveway, the garage door is already open, revealing Nicky meticulously packing his gym bag while Sarah double checks everything over his shoulder.
"The traitor arrives!" Sarah calls out with a grin the second she spots your green and gold Bearcats shirt. She runs over and pulls you into a quick, excited hug. "Tell me you delivered the goods."
"Delivered and accepted," you laugh, walking into the kitchen with her. "Though Yoongi said fifty bucks was a steep price for a peace offering."
"Please, those cookies are worth double that," Sarah scoffs playfully, handing you a water bottle from the fridge. "Besides, if the Ravens think they’re walking away with an easy win today, they’ve got another thing coming."
Nick walks into the kitchen, slinging his own heavy duffel bag over his shoulder. Despite the high-stakes game ahead, he looks completely in his element, a confident smile on his face. "Don't worry, Sunshine. We’re going to make sure that boyfriend of yours, has to work for every single point today. Are we ready to head out?" He asks
"More than ready," you say, the excitement finally overriding the nerves.
The four of you pile into Nick’s SUV, the energy in the car immediately shifting into full pre-game mode as Nick tunes the radio to an upbeat playlist. As he backs out of the driveway and heads toward the school, you look out the window, your phone buzzing in your lap with a text from
Yoongi: Just pulled up to the school. Hope you're ready to lose, Bearcat.
You: Keep dreaming, Coach. See you on the court.
Nick pulls the SUV into the school’s overflowing parking lot, the atmosphere outside is already a mix of excitement and nervous energy of players and their families streaming toward the gymnasium doors. You can see the distinct divide in the crowd. It's a sea of Ravens black and blue clashing directly with the vibrant green and gold of the Bearcats.
"Alright, game faces on," Nick says, cutting the engine and glancing back at everyone through the rearview mirror.
Nick and Nicky waste no time grabbing their heavy duffel bags from the trunk, their focus instantly shifting into that locked-in, pre-game zone. Nick gives Sarah a quick, lingering kiss, while Nick throws an arm around your shoulder, giving you a playful nudge.
"Don't let the Ravens fans bully you in there, Sunshine. We'll see you guys after the final buzzer." Your brother laughs.
With a final round of high-fives, Nick and Nicky head off toward the athletic wing's side entrance, their strides long and purposeful.
"They're going to kill it today," Sarah says confidently, as she walks with you toward the main entrance.
Before you even reach the steps, a familiar, boisterous voice cuts through the chatter of the crowd.
"There’s our favorite traitor!"
You look up to see your brother, Chris, waving frantically from near the ticket booths, a wide, mischievous grin on his face. Standing next to him is Elly, smiling and already holding a tray of hot coffees, while your parents stand right beside them, completely decked out in Bearcats gear.
"Oh, thank goodness, you actually wore the shirt," your mom laughs. "I was worried Yoongi would lock you in the closet until after tip-off."
"He considered it," you joke.
"Seriously though, Y/N, what's the vibe in the Ravens camp this morning? Is Jungkook still talking trash? Did Yoongi look stressed?" Chris slides up next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours as Elly hands you one of the coffees.
"Jungkook was aggressively eating cereal, and Yoongi was entirely too confident," you reply, taking a grateful sip of the warm drink. "He told me to tell our people they better bring more than just chocolate chips to the court."
"Oh, it is on. He underestimated the power of the cookies. That's his first mistake." Sarah gasps dramatically, linking her arm through yours as the six of you finally move together into the warm school. The gym is packed to the brim, as your parents guide the group toward the bleachers, You take a deep breath.
It's time for the semifinals.
Down on the court, the boundary line might as well be a brick wall. On the near side, Nick is pacing the Bearcats baseline, clipboard tucked under his arm, shouting words of encouragement as Nicky makes three-pointer after three-pointer with effortless rhythm.
And on the far side stands Yoongi.
He’s discarded his hoodie, wearing a black Ravens shirt, his arms crossed over his chest. He radiates that quiet, dangerous calm that always takes over right before a game. His sharp gaze tracks his point guard’s footwork, shouting out quick adjustments without missing a beat. Yet, as the whistle blows for the Ravens to transition to layup drills, you see it…the subtle shift in his focus. Yoongi’s dark eyes slide across the half-court line. He stops pacing. His posture eases just a fraction as his gaze settles directly on Nicky.
You watch as Nicky releases a deep jump shot on the Bearcats side. The ball swooshes perfectly through the net. Over in the Ravens zone, Yoongi doesn't sigh or scowl like an opposing head coach normally would. Instead, an expression passes across his face…a tiny, twitch of his chin, the subtle, proud nod of a mentor who spent countless evenings and weekends at your brother's with him.
Nicky turns to head back into the layup line and catches Yoongi looking. For a brief second, the high-stakes rivalry melts away. Nicky gives a quick, sharp tap to his chest with his fist and Yoongi responds with a barely visible tilt of his head, eyes flashing with silent acknowledgement.
"Look at him," Sarah whispers softly beside you. "He looks like a proud uncle pretending he doesn't care."
"Don't let him hear you say that." You smile. "He’s got a reputation to uphold."
Right on cue, as if sensing your eyes on him from across the crowded gym, Yoongi’s head turns toward the Bearcats bleachers. Scan. Find. Target acquired. His eyes lock onto yours. Standing in the middle of a literal sea of green and gold, wearing his rival’s colors, you give him a small, teasing wave.
Yoongi’s lips twitch, the faint ghost of that lazy smirk surfacing for half a second before he points his clipboard directly at you in a mock warning, and turns to huddle his kids. The referee steps to center court, whistle ready, signaling two minutes to tip-off. The sharp blast of the referee's whistle echoes off the gymnasium walls, and the crowd goes wild as the ball is tossed high into the air for the tip-off.
From the very first second, it's clear this isn't going to be an easy game. The Bearcats strike first. Nicky takes a fast pass from his teammate, dribbles twice to create space, and sinks a clean jump shot. On your right, Sarah and your parents leap out of their seats, cheering loudly. Down on the sideline, Nick claps his hands, shouting, "That's it! Good start, Nicky!"
Yoongi’s team doesn't even blink.
The Ravens bounce right back. Their offense moves like a well-oiled machine. Before the Bearcats can get their team back together, the Ravens make a quick play, landing an open three-pointer that swishes effortlessly through the net.
Across the gym, Yoongi just gives a calm, single nod from the baseline, his arms crossed tight over his chest. For the next eight minutes, the energy in the gym is suffocating. The teams trade basket for basket. Every time Nicky hits a lay-up, the Ravens come right down and score one. Every time the Ravens intercepts a ball, Nick’s defense steps up and forces a missed shot.
The score flips back and forth.
6-6.
10-12.
15-15.
It's fast, physical, and completely exhausting just to watch.
With ten seconds left in the first quarter, Nicky drives hard toward the hoop. Two Ravens defenders descend on him, but Nicky smartly throws the ball to his open guard, who makes a basket right as the buzzer sounds.
BEARCATS: 19 RAVENS: 19
"My nerves are already shot," Chris groans. "I don't think my heart can take three more quarters of this."
"They're matching each other play for play," your dad says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Nick's offense is sharp, but Yoongi's defensive adjustments are brutal."
Down on the court, both teams head to their benches for the short break. Nick has his guys huddled tight, giving high-fives and furiously scribbling plays on his clipboard. On the opposite side, Yoongi stands in the middle of the Ravens huddle, speaking calmly, pointing to key areas on the court as his players chug water and nod.
As the referee blows the whistle to call the teams back, Yoongi steps back toward the coaching line. Before he takes his seat, his gaze flickers back up to the Bearcats bleachers, finding you in the crowd. He raises an eyebrow just a fraction, as if to say, “Told you it was going to be a battle.”
The second quarter goes by in a blur of screeching sneakers, referee whistles, and breathless gasps from the crowd. Just as your dad predicted, Yoongi makes a tactical shift on defense. The Ravens start double-teaming Nicky the second he touches the ball, forcing the Bearcats to work twice as hard for every single possession. However, Nick counters quickly, running plays to give Nicky split-second windows to pass or shoot.
Neither team gives an inch. Every single basket feels earned through sheer grit, and the gym is practically vibrating with tension. When the buzzer finally blares to signal halftime, the entire crowd lets out a collective exhale. You glance up at the illuminated scoreboard overhead.
BEARCATS: 36 RAVENS: 39
The Ravens managed to pull ahead by just three points right before the buzzer, thanks to a last-second steal and a layup. A tiny lead, but in a game this tight, three points feels like a mountain.
"Three points," Sarah sighs, sinking back into her seat and fanning her face with her game program. "My heart is pounding so fast I think I'm going to pass out. How are you holding up, Sunshine?"
"Barely surviving," you laugh, taking another sip of your coffee to steady your hands.
"Yoongi's defensive trap on Nicky in the mid-court was nasty," Chris admits, leaning over with an appreciative shake of his head. "He completely took away Nicky's baseline drive. But Nick's adjustments kept them in it. This second half is going to be an absolute war."
Down on the floor, the teams are heading toward their respective locker rooms under the bleachers. Nick walks alongside Nicky, his hand firmly on his son's shoulder as he talks through their second-half strategy. Nicky nods, looking determined rather than discouraged, wiping sweat from his forehead with his jersey.
On the other side of the court, Yoongi falls into step behind his squad. As he reaches the tunnel leading out of the gym, he stops for a brief moment and glances up toward your section one last time. Even from across the room, you can see the intense focus still lingering in his eyes. However, as his dark eyes land on you, that wall cracks just a little bit. He raises three fingers, giving you a subtle, cocky smirk that clearly says, ‘Ravens by three.’
You roll your eyes, holding up a certain single finger.
Yoongi lets out a small, quiet laugh that only you would recognize from that distance, shakes his head, and disappears down the hallway into the locker room. While the rest of your family stays seated you head down to the concession stand to grab a bottle of water. You're twisting the cap off your water bottle when a familiar hand slides onto the small of your back, guiding you back a few inches out of the flow of foot traffic off into the side hallway. You turn to find Yoongi leaning against the concrete wall, looking thoroughly exhausted yet completely in his element.
"Come here to spy on our playbook, Doll?" He asks. “Or… to flip me off again?”
"Please. I don't need to spy when I can see Nick out-coaching you from row twelve," you tease, stepping into his space and looking up at him. "Up by three? That's the best the terrifying Ravens can do?"
"We're just warming up. Tell your nephew to stop hitting those ridiculous fadeaways and maybe we'll give you guys a break." Yoongi lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, his thumb lightly caressing your hip bone through your jeans.
"Not a chance, Coach," you whisper, smiling. "He learned from the best."
He leans down, closing the small distance between you, and presses a lingering, warm kiss to your lips.
"I miss you," he murmurs against your cheek. "Can't wait to go home after this."
"Me too. Now go back in there and lose gracefully…" you start.
"Well, well. Isn't this a sweet little conflict of interest?"
The sharp, dripping-with-venom voice cuts through the quiet hallway.
Yoongi’s hand on your hip tightens subtly as he turns his head, his relaxed posture instantly vanishing. Walking toward you is Ara. She stands there with her arms crossed, her eyes flicking down to your green and gold Bearcats shirt, then to Yoongi’s hand still resting firmly against your side.
"I knew you were lenient on your players, Yoongi, but kissing the enemy's biggest fan during the semifinals?" Ara says with a fake smile plastered on her face. "Some of us parents are actually invested in the Ravens winning today. It's a bit hard to trust the coach if he's cozying up to a Bearcat right out in the hallway."
You feel a flare of heat rise in your chest. You open your mouth to respond, but Yoongi steps slightly in front of you, his shoulder blocking her view of you. His face is completely blank.
"My head is exactly where it needs to be, Ara," Yoongi says, his voice dangerously flat and calm. "And who I kiss on my break is none of your concern. If you're worried about the score, I suggest you head back to your seat for the third quarter."
Ara’s jaw tightens, her cheeks flushing red under her heavy makeup as she glares at the two of you, clearly wanting to say more. Realizing she isn't going to get a reaction out of him, she lets out a huff before turning on her heel, and strutting angrily back toward the gymnasium doors.
Yoongi lets out a slow exhale, turning back to look at you. The sharp edge in his eyes melts away instantly as he reaches out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
"Ignore her, Y/N," Yoongi says softly. "She’s just trying to pick a fight. Don't let her get in your head."
"I'm fine," you say, offering him a small smile. "She just really hates this shirt."
"Well, I kind of hate it too," Yoongi mutters, pulling you in for one last kiss. "But I love the girl inside it. Now get back to your seat before your brother thinks I kidnapped you."
He gives your hip one final, supportive squeeze before turning back toward the Ravens locker room, leaving you with a racing heart and a big smile as you make your way back to the chaotic noise of the gym.
The horn sounds for the third quarter, and both teams storm back onto the court with renewed energy. At first, the game picks up right where it left off. It's fast, loud, and competitive. Within three minutes, you notice an ugly shift.
Jake…Ara’s son. He starts playing with an edge that crosses the line from aggressive to malicious. Every time Nicky moves, Jake is right in his space, throwing unnecessary elbows, taking extra shoves after the whistle, and muttering under his breath.
Nicky tries to brush it off, keeping his head down and focusing on the play, but you can see the tension visibly mounting. Beside you, Sarah’s knuckles are turning white against her knees. "He's going way too hard on him," she mutters under her breath.
Down on the sideline, Yoongi notices it immediately.
"Jake! Cool it down! Keep your hands clean!" Yoongi's voice booms over the roar of the gym crowd.
"Hey! Play the ball, Jake! Eyes on the ball!" Jungkook steps in as well, watching closely.
Jake ignores both of them, his jaw set, fueled by whatever his mother likely fed him during the break.
On the very next play, it happens.
Nicky cuts hard through the court, gearing up for a layup. He goes up strong into the air….completely airborne, completely vulnerable.
Instead of jumping to counter the shot or going for the ball, Jake recklessly steps right into Nicky's landing zone, undercutting his legs and shoving his shoulder forward mid-air. The entire gym gasps as Nicky loses his balance, his body twisting dangerously in the air. He crashes heavily onto the hardwood.
The referee’s whistle blasts instantly.
"Hey!" Nick roars from the Bearcats bench, charging out onto the court toward the referee, his face flushed red.
Your whole family bolts up out of their seats in row twelve.
"Are you kidding me?!" Chris yells, gripping the railing.
Down on the court, before Nick can even reach the center line, Yoongi is already out on the hardwood. His face is thunderous…pissed off in a way you have only seen a couple of times. He strides straight toward Jake, grabbing the boy firmly by the front of his shoulder strap to pull him back and away from where Nicky is down.
"What was that?!" Yoongi snaps. "We don't play like that on my floor! Get to the bench! Now!"
Yoongi doesn't even wait for the referee to make a call. He immediately substitutes Jake out, pointing a furious finger toward the end of the bench. Across the gym, you can see Ara standing up in the front row, jaw dropped, looking outraged, but Yoongi doesn't give her a single glance.
Instead, Yoongi turns straight toward Nicky, dropping down on one knee right beside Nick, who is already checking on his son.
Ara is practically shaking. She’s leaning precariously over the railing, wildly gesturing toward her son, who is sulking at the end of the bench while she is aggressively barking at Jungkook.
From your angle, you can’t hear her words over the crowd, but her sharp gestures say it all. She’s demanding an explanation. She’s furious that Yoongi pulled her son off the floor.
Jungkook, however, isn't having a single second of it.
He stands his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. As Ara continues to jab a finger toward Jake, Jungkook simply shakes his head, his face is completely unimpressed. He leans in just enough to say something short and direct. Ara’s eyes widen in shock, her mouth opening to screech another retort, but Jungkook doesn't even give her the chance. Without breaking eye contact, Jungkook slowly raises his hand, extends his arm, and points one firm finger straight toward the exit doors at the back of the gym.
Get out.
The sheer authority in the gesture stuns Ara into silence. Her face turns a furious shade of crimson. Realizing she’s lost every ounce of leverage and with several nearby fans now staring at her, she snatches her designer bag off her seat, and storms out of the gym.
Beside you, Chris lets out a low whistle.
"Damn. Note to self…. never make Jungkook mad," he laughs.
"Good riddance," Sarah mutters.
Down on the floor, the heavy atmosphere lifts the second Ara disappears through the doors.
Yoongi is still down on one knee beside Nicky, his hand resting gently on the back of Nicky's neck as Nick checks the boy's shoulder. You watch as the two head coaches exchange a brief, heavy look. It's an unspoken moment of mutual respect between two men who care more about the safety of these kids than any scoreboard. Nick gives Yoongi a brief, firm nod of gratitude for stepping in so fast, and Yoongi returns it with a tight tilt of his chin.
With the help of his dad and Yoongi, Nicky pushes himself up off the hardwood. The entire gym, Bearcats and Ravens fans alike erupts into a round of applause. Nicky shakes out his arm, gives the Bearcats bench a determined nod, and steps straight to the free-throw line to shoot his play fouls.
Yoongi steps back to his sideline, his dark eyes sweeping up to the bleachers. He catches you watching him. The thunderous, protective rage that had overtaken his face moments ago is gone, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth as his eyes lock onto yours. He gives you a tiny, reassuring nod before turning back to his team.
The energy in the gym shifts instantly. The cheap shots are gone, replaced by pure, clean basketball as Nicky sinks both free throws, tying the game back up. Nicky plays like a kid possessed, running around the court and passing to his teammates. On the other side, Yoongi’s defence is flawless. By the time the horn blares for the end of the third quarter, the scoreboard glows brightly overhead.
BEARCATS: 54 RAVENS: 54
A dead tie heading into the final eight minutes.
The entire crowd is on their feet, screaming, clapping, and completely swept up in the magic of a game that neither team deserves to lose.
"Eight minutes left! Y/N, I don't care who wins at this point, this is officially the greatest game I've ever seen!" Chris is practically bouncing on his toes next to you.
"I care who wins," your mom says anxiously, as she watches Nick and Nicky down on the bench.
The referee blows the whistle for the fourth quarter, and the battle for the championship spot officially begins.
The fourth quarter isn't just basketball anymore….it’s pure, exhilarating chaos.
Every single possession feels like the last minute of a championship game. On the Bearcats' end, Nick is practically running the sideline with his players, calling out defensive switches. Nicky, playing through the dull ache in his shoulder, hits a three-pointer that sends your entire family…and half the green and gold bleachers into an absolute frenzy.
"That's my boy!" Sarah screams, jumping up and down beside you.
On the opposite bench, Yoongi remains the picture of composure. He doesn't panic. He doesn't yell. He simply steps to the edge of the line, and taps his temple. The Ravens respond instantly, running a lightning-fast transition play.
58-58.
62-62.
66-66.
With fifteen seconds left on the clock, the gym is so loud the floorboards literally vibrate under your shoes.
Nick calls a timeout. Nicky charges down the court on the restart, drawing two defenders before throwing the ball out to his teammate, who sinks a basket.
BEARCATS: 68 RAVENS: 66
The Bearcats crowd goes wild. There are 4.2 seconds remaining.
Yoongi immediately slams his hand down for a timeout. As the Ravens hustle to their bench, Yoongi doesn't waste a single second. He grabs his whiteboard, wiping off the old play with the side of his palm, his marker flying across the grid with blinding speed. He points to his point guard, then to his center, drawing a quick, intricate line right across the board. The teams line up.
4.2 seconds.
The whistle blows. The noise in the gym drops to a breathless, suffocating silence.
The Ravens execute Yoongi's play with terrifying perfection. The center sets a hard, clean play at the top of the court, completely trapping the Bearcats' best defender. The point guard cuts hard to the left, drawing Nicky's focus for a split second. It opens the court just enough for
Yoongi's shooting guard to get the ball. He catches it with perfect timing, and leaps into the air, releasing it. The ball arches through the air…..
The horn blares.
Swish.
Nothing but net. Three points.
FINAL SCORE: BEARCATS: 68 RAVENS: 69
For half a second, the gym is stunned silent….and then the Ravens' side of the bleachers explodes.
The Ravens bench clears instantly, swarming their shooter in a chaotic, screaming pile of black and blue at center court. Down on the sideline, Yoongi and Jungkook are clapping for their players, genuine smiles lighting up their entire faces before Yoongi immediately turns to quiet his celebrating players so they can shake hands with the Bearcats.
"Unbelievable," your dad breathes, shaking his head with immense respect. "That play was pure genius. Yoongi drew up a masterpiece."
"He got us," Chris laughs softly, clapping his hands. "He really got us at the buzzer."
Down on the hardwood, amidst the chaotic sea of screaming fans and floating confetti, the two teams line up at center court for the post-game handshakes. Nick walks the line first, giving every single Ravens player a firm hand-squeeze and a proud word of encouragement. Despite the heartbreaking, last-second loss, there isn't a trace of bitterness on his face. There’s just the genuine pride of a coach who knows his boys gave every single ounce of heart they had.
At the tail end of the line, Yoongi steps up to Nicky.
He reaches out, his large hand coming down to cup the back of your nephew's neck. He says something directly to him. Nicky winces through the dull pain in his shoulder, but as Yoongi speaks, the disappointment on the teenager's face completely melts away. Nicky nods vigorously, his chin setting with renewed determination, a small, proud smile breaking through his exhaustion. He gives Yoongi a quick, respectful bump of his shoulder before moving down the line.
Yoongi turns, his eyes find yours. You're standing in your bright green and gold Bearcats shirt, surrounded by your family, you don't offer him a bitter look. Instead, you raise your hands and clap proudly for him, giving him a soft, affectionate smile. Yoongi’s chest heaves as he lets out a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets. The cocky smirk from halftime is gone, replaced by a deep, quiet look of relief and adoration as he gives you a subtle nod.
"Alright, Bearcat camp," Chris says, slapping his hands on his knees as he stands up. "The battle is lost, but the war for the dinner table continues. Who's ready to go congratulate the tactical mastermind before he gets an even bigger head?"
"Lead the way," Sarah chuckles. "Though I'm still expecting my fifty bucks from him."
The family makes their way down the bleacher stairs, merging into the bustling crowd on the gym floor. By the time you reach the center court circle, Nick and Yoongi are already standing shoulder-to-shoulder, talking strategy with quiet, mutual respect, their hands clasped in a heavy, respectful handshake.
"That play was disgusting, Min," Nick says, shaking his head with a breathless laugh. "I didn't see it coming until the ball was already in the air."
"You pushed us to the absolute limit, Nick," Yoongi replies, his voice low and raspy from shouting plays all afternoon. "If Nicky had two more seconds, that game would have gone into overtime. Your defense was immaculate."
As you step into the circle, Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. Without missing a beat, he breaks away from the coaches, his long strides closing the distance between you in seconds. Before you can say a word, his arms wrap securely around your waist, lifting you an inch off the ground as he pulls you tight against his chest.
"Hey, traitor," Yoongi murmurs softly into your hair.
"Congratulations, Coach," you whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and kissing the side of his jaw. "You drew up a masterpiece."
"You okay? Ara didn't ruin your afternoon, did she?" Yoongi sets you down, his dark eyes scanning your face.
"Are you kidding?" You laugh quietly, glancing over toward the exit. "Jungkook single-handedly threw her out of the gym. It was iconic."
"Good. She deserved it." He looks down at your shirt, his fingers lightly snagging the hem of the bright green fabric. "Now... as much as I respect family loyalty, I think it's time you take this shirt off."
"Excuse me?" You tease, raising an eyebrow.
"You're in the winning camp now, Doll," Yoongi says, a slow, ridiculously handsome smirk spreading across his face as pulls his Ravens hoodie over your head. "Wear the right colors on the ride home."
Around you, the family laughs as Yoongi smooths down the fabric, completely hiding the green and gold underneath. Jungkook struts over, slinging a massive arm around both of your shoulders.
"The Bearcats fought hard, but the Ravens reign supreme. Who's buying victory pizza?" He asks.
"Yoongi is," Sarah pipes up instantly, pointing a finger at him. "He owes me fifty bucks, plus interest for emotional damage during the third quarter."
"Deal. Pizza’s on me." Yoongi just smirks, pulling you tightly against his side and pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your temple as the gym slowly begins to clear out.
The house is finally quiet.
Hours ago it had been filled with victory pizza, laughter, Sarah demanding her fifty dollars, and Jungkook reenacting the final play for anyone who would listen. Now, only the low whirring of the ceiling fan breaks the silence of the bedroom.
Fresh from the shower, Yoongi lies face-down across the bed in nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants, one arm folded beneath his head. Damp strands of blond hair curl against the back of his neck. You straddle his hips, slowly working lotion into the tight muscles between his shoulder blades. He lets out a long, tired sigh.
"You know," he mumbles into the pillow, "I really thought we were going to lose today."
"You were scared of my brother." Your hands pause for just a second before they continue.
"I was not scared." One sleepy eye cracks open.
"You were," you laugh.
"I was... appropriately concerned," he replies.
"So you were scared," you laugh again.
"...Your whole family scares me a little," he admits.
"My whole family?" You blink.
"Mhm." He hums.
"What? Is it because we're loud?" You lean down until your face slips into his line of sight, eyebrows raised.
"No." He smiles into the pillow, shaking his head. His expression softens. "It's because they matter."
That makes your hands still. He stares at the comforter for a long moment before speaking again.
"I've coached a lot of games," he says. “I've lost plenty. But today..." His voice drops almost to a whisper. "I wanted this one."
"Because it was Nick?" You ask and he nods once.
"I wanted to beat him." A tiny smile tugs at his mouth. "But I also didn't want to hurt him."
He lets out a slow breath.
"And Nicky..." He closes his eyes. "That kid's become important to me."
You resume rubbing slow circles across his back.
"When he hit the floor..." He swallows. "I wasn't thinking about the scoreboard anymore."
"I know," you say.
"I just kept thinking..." He shakes his head. "Please get up."
Silence settles between you before he finally speaks again.
"I love you," he says.
"I know." You smile and he reaches back, finding your hand.
"But it's bigger than that now. I care about them," he admits as his thumb brushes over your knuckles. "Your dad asking about my plays. Your mom piling too much food on my plate. Chris trying to convince everyone he's funnier than he is." You snort. "Sarah extorting me for fifty dollars and Nick..." His smile becomes thoughtful. "He's one of the best coaches I've ever stood across from."
He grows quiet again.
"If I ever screwed this up…," he trails off.
"What do you mean?" You frown and he finally rolls over so he can look at you.
"If I ever did something stupid enough to lose you..." he says honestly, "I don't think I'd just lose you. I'd lose them too. I don't think I realized how much they've become my family until today."
The quiet room feels suddenly smaller. The sharp, untouchable, relentless coach who just drew up a game-winning play in front of hundreds of screaming fans is completely gone. In his place is just Yoongi. You look down at him, a warm, tender laugh bubbling up in your chest, breaking through the emotional heavy air.
"Yoongi, please," you say softly, a soft smile playing on your lips as your fingers weave through his. "Nick would gladly trade me for you. Seriously…you're already a permanent member of my brothers' group chat. Half the time, they text YOU before they even reply to me."
Yoongi’s eyebrows twitch, a tiny, reluctant smile threatening to break through his serious expression, though his gaze remains intensely locked onto yours.
"I'm serious," you murmur, leaning down until your forehead gently rests against his. The cool, damp touch of his hair brushes against your skin. You squeeze his hand, making sure he hears every single word. "You're not going anywhere, and neither am I. I'm not letting you go."
Your voice drops to a soft, intimate whisper, stripped of all teasing.
"You're the only one I've ever trusted enough to open up to like this, Yoongi. The only one I've ever let completely in. My family loves you because of how much you care about them…and because they see how much you love me."
Yoongi stares up at you, the heavy, lingering anxiety in his dark eyes slowly dissolving. A slow, shuddering exhale escapes his lips, the tension finally draining completely out of his shoulders.
"Doll..." he breathes out.
Without another word, he reaches up, his large palm sliding around the back of your neck. He gently pulls you down into a slow, deep kiss. It isn't filled with the electric energy of the basketball court or the playful friction of the morning…it's heavy, quiet, and completely full of devotion. His thumb caresses the soft line of your jawline, holding you close as if solidifying the promise you just made.
"Good," Yoongi murmurs against your lips. "Because I really didn't want to have to give that fifty dollars back to Sarah."
You burst into a laugh, resting your weight fully against his chest as he wraps both arms securely around you, pulling you down into the warmth of the bed.
"Go to sleep, Coach," you whisper, pressing a final kiss to the crook of his neck. "You won the game."
"Yeah," Yoongi softly mutters, his dark eyes fluttering closed as his breathing instantly deepens, steady and rhythmic against your side. "I really did."
The air is crisp as you walk across the middle school parking lot, but inside your Raven’s hoodie, you're warm.
Behind you, the rest of your family is a chaotic procession of full-fledged team spirit. Your mom is sporting a custom blue t-shirt that Elly made on her vinyl cutter late last night. They are complete with "RAVENS SUPER-FAN" emblazoned in glittery iron-on letters. While your dad wears a black baseball cap with a badly drawn raven on the front. Nicky walks right beside you, practically jumping with excitement in a black hoodie with “Let's Go Coach Min” painted across it with white paint.
"Is Coach going to flip?" Nicky asks, as he looks over at you. "Does he know we’re coming? Did you tell him?"
"Nope," you say. "He thinks I'm at home, and he thinks the rest of you are still recovering from the heartbreak of last week. Complete surprise."
"Oh, he is going to lose his mind," Nicky laughs, jogging ahead a couple of steps to spin around and walk backward. "I can't wait to see his face."
"Can someone tell me why we're doing heavy lifting for the team that knocked us out of the tournament?" A voice groans from behind.
You turn to see Nick and Sarah hauling two massive, heavy-duty coolers filled to the brim with ice-cold Gatorade and water bottles. The plastic wheels rumble loudly over the pavement.
"Because sportsmanship builds character, Nick," Sarah says, completely unbothered as she wheels her cooler. "And because Yoongi actually paid me my fifty dollars on Monday like a real man."
"I helped pay that fifty dollars!" Nick protests, though the fond smile on his face gives him away. "And now I'm his designated water boy?"
"You're supporting your honorary brother-in-law, stop complaining," Chris huffs, trailing a few steps behind them.
Chris and Elly are both burdened with huge, clear plastic storage tubs filled with homemade baked goods.
"If Yoongi doesn't appreciate the sheer physical labor it took to carry forty-eight fudge brownies from the car to the gym," Chris pants, "I'm switching my loyalty back to the Bearcats permanently."
"You wouldn't dare," Elly chuckles, using her elbow to adjust Chris's grip on the tub. "You look too good in black and blue."
The six of you march up the concrete steps and push through the heavy double doors of the school. Walking to the gym, you peek around the double doors first. Down on the court, the Ravens are in the middle of warming up. Jungkook and Yoongi are pacing the sideline. Yoongi looks locked in, dark eyes tracking every pass, clipboard tucked under his arm.
The heavy plastic wheels of the coolers rumble loudly across the polished hardwood, the sharp clack-clack-clack echoing off the gym ceiling and cutting clean through the squeak of sneakers and the chatter of the parents in stands. Down on the floor, Yoongi doesn't even look up at first. However, the rumble of the coolers draws his attention toward the main entrance. Yoongi turns his head casually, expecting to see a late parent or maybe a custodian. Instead, his dark eyes land squarely on the chaotic, highly organized invasion currently marching across his gym floor.
First, he spots you. You're walking at the front of the pack, wrapped in his Ravens hoodie that practically swallows your hands. Then his gaze shifts to the procession behind you. There’s your dad, proudly rocking a black baseball cap with a ridiculously drawn bird, standing next to your mom, whose glittery "RAVENS SUPER-FAN" shirt catches the bright overhead gym lights. Right beside them is Nicky, bouncing on his toes with a giant grin, flanked by Chris and Elly struggling under the weight of roughly fifty pounds of baked goods.
And bringing up the rear, looking entirely resigned to their fate, are Nick and Sarah…an opposing head coach and his wife…wheeling in two massive coolers.
Yoongi literally stops dead in his tracks.
He blinks once. Twice. A slow, incredulous breath escapes his nose. He looks at you, then at your dad's hat, then at Nick lugging the Gatorade, and finally back to you. The sharp, terrifyingly serious coach persona completely shatters. A hand comes up to cover his mouth, but it does nothing to hide the deep, breathless laugh that shakes his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Yoongi calls out, as he starts walking toward your group.
"We came to support the home team!" Your mom announces, completely unbothered by everyone staring at her glitter shirt.
"I was told there would be no heavy lifting required for enemy territory," Nick grunts, finally parking the massive cooler near the Ravens bench with a heavy thud. He wipes his brow, looking up at Yoongi with a sarcastic glare. "You owe me another fifty bucks."
"You got your fifty bucks on Monday, Nick, don't push it," Sarah chimes in, setting her cooler down.
Yoongi reaches the edge of the court where your family has set up camp. He looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with a mixture of utter disbelief
"You told me you were busy today," he says.
"I lied," you say, looking up at him. "Surprise."
A soft, genuine smile breaks across Yoongi’s face. Ignoring the fact that his entire basketball team, their parents, and probably the opposing team are watching. Yoongi reaches out and pulls you in for a quick kiss.
"You're unbelievable, Doll," he whispers against your lips, his hand resting securely at your waist as he shakes his head with that fond, breathless smile.
"Remember that," you murmur back, tilting your head up to give him a sharp, mischievous look. You pull slightly out of his grip, gesturing toward the visiting team currently warming up on the opposite end of the floor. "Because I’m going to heckle the hell out of that coach today."
Yoongi’s dark eyes narrow instantly, his mouth twitching as his head coach instincts immediately try to claw their way back to the surface.
"You better not," he says, pointing his clipboard firmly at your chest. “Do not embarrass me in front of the referees."
"I make no promises, Coach," you laugh, pulling his oversized hoodie sleeves down over your hands. "Honestly? I'll probably get thrown out by halftime."
"If you get thrown out, I'm pretending I don't know you," Yoongi says, though a hopelessly smitten smirk playing on his lips completely betrays him.
"No you won't," Chris chimes in from behind. "If she gets thrown out, Yoongi's walking out right behind her to argue the call."
"Damn right he is," your dad agrees.
Yoongi just lets out a quiet, raspy laugh, shaking his head as he looks around at the absolute circus your family has brought to his quiet gym. He steps back toward the court, pointing one last warning finger at you, his eyes shining with pure warmth.
"Behave," he orders softly, before turning to his bench and raising his voice so it carries over the entire gym. "Alright, Ravens! Huddle up! We've got a championship to win!"
You step back into the bleachers with your family, wrapping your hands into the warm fabric of Yoongi's hoodie, a bright smile on your face as the whistle blows and the finals officially begin.
From the second the opening tip-off goes up, you and Nicky are locked in…and you are RELENTLESS.
"Hey Coach!" You shout, cupping your hands around your mouth the moment the opposing team’s coach steps an inch outside his designated area. "The white line isn't a suggestion! Back it up!"
Beside you, Nicky leaps onto the bench seat, cupping his hands and adding his own booming commentary.
"Yeah! Take a seat, Coach! You're pacing so much you're gonna wear out your fancy shoes!" He shouts.
Opposite-side fans stare, but you’re already onto the referee who just blew a questionable traveling call against the Ravens’ point guard.
"Oh, come on, Ref!" You yell, standing up and dramatically taking off your invisible glasses to wipe them on Yoongi's hoodie. "Are you blowing that whistle with your eyes closed?!"
"Check your phone at halftime, Ref, you missed three calls!" Nicky roars right next to you, high-fiving you as the crowd around you lets out a mix of shocked gasps and snickering laughs.
Down on the court, Yoongi turns his head toward the stands for half a second. He covers his mouth with his clipboard to hide the fact that he is struggling not to laugh out loud, though he sends a stern, pointed look in your direction before turning back to the game.
Your mom, however, is not amused.
She sits rigidly between your dad and Chris, her arms tightly crossed over her glittery shirt. Her lips are drawn into a thin line, her face flushed with utter embarrassment every time you or Nicky open your mouths.
"Y/N, sit down this instant!" She glares up at you. "And Nicky, get off that bench before you fall! You two are acting like hooligans!"
"Mom, he doesn't know what he is doing!" You protest, remaining standing. " I told Yoongi he needed new refs a long time ago."
"I don't care!" Your mom hushes, looking around anxiously at the surrounding parents. "It is completely unladylike and rude."
"Next bad call, we go double loud," Nicky whispers to you.
"Deal." You grin.
Nick and Sarah exchange a desperate look as you and Nicky prepare your next coordinated assault on the officiating crew. Before the referee can even get down to the other end of the court, Nick reaches up with both hands, grabs Nicky by the back of his hoodie, and physically yanks him back down onto the wooden bleacher with a heavy thump.
"Sit. Your. Butt. Down," Nick orders, while trying…and failing to maintain a straight face. "You are thirteen years old, you have a shoulder injury, and you are ten seconds away from getting us all escorted to the parking lot."
"Dad, he made a bad call!" Nicky whines, squirming under his father's iron grip. "You saw it! You're a basketball coach!"
"I am a guest at this game," Nick says through gritted teeth, clapping a large hand firmly over Nicky's mouth to silence any further commentary. "And right now, I am trying very hard to pretend I don't share fifty percent of your DNA."
Beside them, Sarah turns her attention straight to you. She slides over to you, taking a firm grip on the long, floppy sleeves of Yoongi's oversized hoodie and physically pulling you down.
"Okay, loudmouth, break time," Sarah laughs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. "You heard your mother. Yoongi has enough stress down there without his girlfriend starting a riot."
"I'm establishing a home-court advantage!" You protest, adjusting the hood of the sweatshirt. "Yoongi appreciates it!"
Down on the court, the referee blows his whistle to signal a baseline throw-in for the Ravens.
During the split-second pause in action, Yoongi's dark eyes flicker straight up to your row. He watches Nick pinning Nicky to the bench, Sarah holding you hostage by your sleeves, and your mom fanning herself in relief.
Yoongi lifts his clipboard up over his mouth, his shoulders visibly shaking as he lets out a quiet, breathless laugh that he desperately tries to hide from the floor refs. He catches your eye, gives you a slow, fond shake of his head, and mouth two distinct words across the gym.
“Behave, Doll.”
You roll your eyes, blowing him a subtle kiss from inside your hostage position next to Sarah, as the whistle blows and the Ravens execute another flawless transition play to extend their lead into the fourth quarter.
The glowing red numbers on the scoreboard are bleeding away second by second, and the electric hum in the gym has turned into an absolute frenzy.
RAVENS: 74 VISITORS: 63
0:42
There is no miracle comeback coming. No buzzer-beater heroics for the opposing team. The game is effectively over, and everyone in the building knows it.
Suddenly, nobody is trying to keep anyone quiet anymore.
Your mom…the exact same woman who was dying of embarrassment ten minutes ago…is up on her feet, wildly waving a blue pom-pom she somehow acquired from a Raven parent.
"That's it! Pass it around! Run that clock!" She screams at the top of her lungs.
"Hold the ball! Smart play!" Your dad roars.
Nicky has broken entirely free of Nick’s grip, standing on the top bleacher and leading a deafening chant with Chris. "BLACK AND BLUE! BLACK AND BLUE!" Chris is beating the brownie tub like a drum, while Elly records the whole chaotic mess on her phone. Next to you, Nick leans over the railing, his loud, authoritative coach's voice booming over the gym noise. "That's how you close it out! Great game, boys! Finish it!" He exclaims.
Sarah wraps her arm around your waist, jumping up and down with you as the final ten seconds tick on the clock.
0:05... 0:04... 0:03...
The final horn blares, a long, deafening sound that gets swallowed instantly by the roaring crowd.
BUZZZZZZZZT.
The Ravens bench explodes onto the court in a flurry of black and blue, jumping into a massive, chaotic huddle near the free-throw line. Confetti pops from somewhere in the stands, floating down over the hardwood.
Yoongi lets his players have their moment, stepping back with a wide, breathless smile as Jungkook charges over and practically lifts him off the ground in a giant bear hug, nearly knocking his clipboard to the floor. Yoongi laughs, slapping Jungkook’s back, before neatly dodging another chaotic pile-up of teenagers.
He shakes hands with the opposing coaches with quiet, respectful grace, but the second the formal sportsmanship is out of the way. He walks straight toward the Bearcats-turned-Ravens section. Your family cascades down the bleacher stairs like a tidal wave, spilling out onto the edge of the gym floor. Your dad is the first to reach him, slapping Yoongi on the shoulder with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
"Unbelievable game, son! Brilliant coaching!" Your dad congratulates him.
"Thanks, sir." Yoongi smiles.
"You owe me a brownie," Chris announces. "We brought luck. It's science."
Nick steps up, extending a hand. The two coaches share a heavy, meaningful handshake that turns into a brief, respectful shoulder-bump.
"Congratulations, Min. You earned every bit of that trophy," Nick says genuinely.
"Appreciate it, Nick," Yoongi nods, his eyes soft. "Couldn't have done it without your water boy services."
Nick snorts, shaking his head as Sarah pulls Yoongi into a quick hug, reminding him that she’s expecting championship pizza.
And then, the crowd parts.
You're standing right there at the edge of the court, your hands tucked into the long sleeves of his hoodie, watching him with so much pride your chest feels tight. Yoongi steps past your brothers, closing the last few inches between you. He doesn't say a word. He just reaches out, hooks his fingers into the front of the oversized hoodie you're wearing, and pulls you flush against him.
His arms wrap tightly around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he lets out a long, shuddering, exhausted breath. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady, rapid thrum of his heart against your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in the cool, damp hair at the nape of his neck, kissing the side of his jaw.
"You did it, Coach," you whisper softly against his skin. "You're a champion."
Yoongi stumbles forward half a step under the sudden weight, his arms reflexively shifting to catch Nicky by the thighs before the kid can slide down his back.
"Whoa…hey!" Yoongi grunts. "Watch the shoulder, kid!"
"My shoulder's fine!" Nicky practically yells right into Yoongi's ear, so amped up on adrenaline. He grips Yoongi’s black and blue shirt with one hand, using the other to wildly gesture toward his parents, who are standing nearby with massive, ridiculous grins on their faces. "Coach! You gotta hear this! I got news!"
"What news could possibly be more important than me trying not to collapse on this floor right now?" Yoongi tilts his head back, looking up at Nicky over his shoulder with an amused, slightly exasperated brow raised.
"Dad convinced her!" Nicky bursts out, his voice cracking. "He finally did it! They talked about it all week, and she officially said yes this morning!"
Yoongi turns his head further, his gaze snapping from Nicky over to you. His dark eyes are swimming with confusion, searching your face for an explanation. You just stand there, offering him a calm, knowingly smile and a slight nod of your head.
"Wait, back up..." Yoongi says, as he tries to process the sudden chaotic energy. He hitches Nicky a little higher on his back, wincing slightly as he adjusts his posture. "Your mom said yes to what, Nicky? Spill it."
Nicky leans in close, practically bouncing off Yoongi’s back.
"We’re moving!" He yells, unable to contain the sheer joy bursting out of him. "I get to be a Raven next year!"
"A... Raven?" Yoongi repeats slowly. "You mean...You're gonna be on MY team?"
"YES!" Nicky kicks his legs, nearly toppling them both over again. "Dad said we're looking at houses this week! You're stuck with me for real now, Coach!"
"Stuck with you?" Yoongi chuckles, looking up at Nicky. "Kid, you have no idea what you just signed up for. I’m gonna run you into the ground next season."
He looks across the space straight at you, the fond, crooked smirk on his face. Yoongi finally lets Nicky slide down off his back, though he keeps a heavy, steady hand clamped firmly on the kid's good shoulder, giving it a rough, affectionate shake.
"You hear that, Nick?" Yoongi calls out over the roar of the gym, his raspy voice carrying straight to your brother. "You're officially handing over your best player. No trade backs."
"Keep him," Nick laughs, stepping up and slinging an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "He's your headache during practice now, Min. I just get to sit in the stands with a coffee and yell at the referees."
"Oh, don't worry, he'll have plenty of company up there," Chris chimes in, slinging a long arm around your shoulders and pulling you into a headlock. "Y/N's already got a lifetime ban warning from the officiating crew today."
"I was SUPPORTING the team!" You protest, laughing as you wriggle out of Chris's grip and step right back into Yoongi's space.
Yoongi’s hand leaves Nicky's shoulder and slides straight around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.
"Best traitor I've ever had," Yoongi murmurs softly into your ear.
"You're stuck with all of us now, Coach. The whole noisy, chaotic package." You tilt your head up, wrapping your arms securely around his neck.
A low, breathless laugh vibrates deep in Yoongi's chest. He leans down, closing the tiny distance between you, and presses his lips to yours in a slow, sweet, completely unhurried kiss right there on the center court line.
"Good," Yoongi whispers against your lips, his arms tightening around you as the crowd cheers around you both. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
The twinkling string lights hanging from the rustic wooden rafters of the reception barn cast a warm glow over the crowded dance floor. The upbeat tempo of the earlier playlist has shifted into something slow that drifts through the speakers.
Across the floor, your mom is laughing while your dad spins her around, Chris and Elly are surrounded by laughing friends near the wedding cake, and Nicky is currently trying…and failing to convince his parents that he’s old enough to stay until everyone leaves.
But right now, the rest of the world feels miles away.
Yoongi’s hands rest comfortably on the curve of your waist, his long fingers pressing gently through the delicate fabric of your blush-pink bridesmaid dress. You have your arms draped loosely over his shoulders, swaying with him. He discarded his jacket hours ago, leaving him in a crisp, form-fitting white dress shirt with the top button undone, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His silk tie hangs loosely around his collar.
You look up at him through your lashes, a slow, playful smirk touching the corners of your lips as you lean in just a fraction closer. Your fingers slip from the nape of his neck down to the smooth fabric of his tie, resting against the knot.
"You know..." you murmur, your voice laced with flirtatious sweetness. You give the silk tie a slow, gentle tug, pulling him down a mere inch closer to your face. "...you look dangerously good in a suit and tie, Coach."
Yoongi’s dark eyebrows twitch upward. A slow, lazy smirk spreads across his face as he yields to the soft pull of your hand, his head tilting down until his lips are hovering just above yours.
"Oh?" He whispers softly. "Because if I recall correctly, about two weeks ago you claimed I looked best in a sweaty tracksuit."
"Context matters," you tease, your fingers idly twirling the ends of his tie, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Tracksuits are for winning championships. THIS..." You run your hands lightly up the front of his shirt, smoothing down the crisp collar. "...this is unfair to everyone else in this room. Especially when you lean down like that."
You slip your hand in his and start to lead him away from the dance floor. He glances around the room. Chris laughing with Elly, at your parents swaying together near the speakers, at Nicky shoving cake in mouth at the table while Sarah rests her head on Nick's shoulder.
His jaw tightens.
"We're at your brother's wedding," he says, his voice low and strained. "We can't just... disappear."
"Watch me." You laugh, the sound light and teasing.
You lace your fingers through his, and start pulling him through the crowd. He follows, his grip firm but reluctant, his eyes darting around like a man about to commit a crime. You weave between tables draped in white linen, past the open bar where your uncle is already three drinks deep, past the photobooth where a group of your cousins are making ridiculous faces.
The hallway leading to the storage rooms is dimly lit, the noise of the reception fading behind you. Your heels click against the hardwood floor. You try a door. Locked. Another. Locked.
Yoongi's hand tightens on yours.
"We should go back," he says, as he looks up and down the hall.
"Patience, Coach," you say, a smirk in your voice.
The third door swings open, revealing a narrow closet stacked with extra chairs, rolls of tablecloth, and a few forgotten boxes of decorations. It's cramped, dusty, and perfect.
You pull him inside, pushing the door closed behind you. The latch clicks, plunging you into near darkness, the only light a thin sliver creeping under the door. You feel along the wall and switch on the light.
"See?" You whisper. "Perfect."
Yoongi lets out a shaky breath, his hands finding your hips, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your dress.
"This is insane," he mutters, but he's already leaning down. "Your brothers are out there. Your parents. Everyone."
"And they're going to stay out there," you say, your hands sliding up his chest, fisting in the fabric of his shirt. "As long as you're quiet."
The air in the closet was thick with the scent of dust, old wood, and the faint sweetness of your perfume, now mingled with the smell of his cologne. Yoongi’s body was a line of tense heat pressed against you. You could feel the conflict in him.
“Insane,” he repeats.
“They’re toasting the happy couple,” you whisper, your lips brushing his as you speak. “They won’t miss us for five minutes.”
“Five minutes,” he echoes, a breathless laugh escaping him. “It's never five minutes with you.”
His words are swallowed by your mouth as you kiss him. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue. It's hungry and frantic. You taste the champagne on his lips. Your hands slide down from his chest, over the crisp material of his dress shirt, until you find the buckle of his belt. The metallic click is loud in the small space. Yoongi flinches, his head turning toward the door as if expecting a crowd to burst in.
“Shhh,” you sooth, working the button of his pants, then the zipper.
The sound of the zipper coming down is slow and you swear you can hear him swallow. You push the fabric aside, reaching into the opening of his boxer-briefs to wrap your hand around him. He is already fully hard. A ragged, choked sound escapes his throat, and he drops his forehead heavily onto your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he breathes, as his hips jerk into your touch.
“Turn me around,” you whisper. He makes a confused noise. “Face the door. Hands on it. Now.”
He does and you say as you start gathering the slippery material of your dress in both hands. You pull it up around your waist, bunching it there. The cool, dusty air of the closet hit your bare thighs. You hook your thumbs in the sides of your underwear and push them down, letting them fall to your ankles so you could step out of the material.
Pressing your front against the door, you look over your shoulder at him. Yoongi’s gaze drops, taking in the sight of you pressed against the door, half-dressed, exposed. A fresh wave of arousal and sheer terror washed over his features.
“Yoongi,” you say. “Now.”
It was the command that broke him out of his stupor. His hands, trembling slightly, come to your hips. He bends just so, aligning your bodies. You brace your hands flat against the door on either side of you as he guides himself to your entrance. The head of his cock nudges against you, and you both let out a shaky breath.
“Okay?” He asks.
You answer by pushing your hips back. A sharp intake of air from above you. He freezes, his whole body locking up. You can feel the violent tremor in his thighs where they pressed against the backs of yours.
“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your forehead resting against the door.
He doesn't.
With a groan that seems ripped from the core of him, he pushes forward. The stretch is delicious. It's a burning fullness that makes your knees buckle. He is deep, so deep, the angle is perfect. He buries himself so his hips are flush against your ass, and holds steady there, both of you panting.
“This is…” he started, his voice a wreck.
“Perfect,” you finished for him.
He begins to move.
It’s awkward at first…a short, experimental pull back and a hesitant thrust forward. The door creaks softly in its frame. But then he finds a rhythm. It isn't graceful. It is desperate, a motion of urgent need and limited space. Each forward slam of his hips drives you harder against the door. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin fills the small closet. Yoongi is losing his battle for silence. Deep grunts are forced from his lips with every deep thrust.
“God… shit… fuck…” he mutters.
His hands tighten on your hips. You're sure you will probably have bruises beneath the silk of your dress come tomorrow. His control was fraying, unraveling with every slide into your core.
You meet him thrust for thrust, pushing back against him, chasing the coil of pleasure tightening low in your belly. The risk, the sheer wrongness of it…your brother laughing just a wall away, your mother probably wondering where you’d gone. Every nerve ending was on fire.
“Yoongi,” you gasp. “I’m close. Right there.”
He understands. One of his hands leaves your hip, sliding around your front, fingers delving between your thighs to find your clit. His touch is rough and exactly what you need. He circles it quickly as he fucks you, his rhythm turning erratic.
It tips you over the edge.
Pleasure sends a white-hot light behind your eyes. Your body clamps around him in a series of fluttering spasms. You bite your lip, as you arch your back against him, your nails scraping down the wood of the door.
Feeling you come around him destroys the last shred of his control. A low groan rumbles through his chest. His thrusts start to really lose any sense of rhythm he has.
“Can’t… not inside…” he chokes out with frustration. “We have to… go back out…”
He suddenly pulls out of you. The sudden emptiness is a shock. He stumbles back a step, his breathing a ragged. You turn, your dress falling back down to cover you. You sink to your knees on the dusty floor, and look up at him.
“Let me,” you say.
He stares down at you, his chest heaving. For a second, he looks like he might refuse. But the sight of you on your knees breaks him. He lets out a shuddering sigh of surrender.
You don't tease. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, deep and fast. A broken moan echoes above you. His hand flies to your head, his fingers tangling in your carefully styled hair, but he doesn't force you down.
You work him with focused efficiency. This was a job that needed finishing. You use your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. You bring your hand up to start pumping the base in a tight, synchronized rhythm.
“I’m… I’m gonna…” he warns, his voice strangled.
You take him deeper, humming softly around him. The vibration sends a violent shudder through his entire frame. His hips gave a few shallow, helpless thrusts against your lips.
His release is a tremble of his stomach before a deep groan escapes from his throat.
When it’s over, he slumps sideways against a stack of folded tablecloths, barely catching himself. He slides down to sit on the floor, his back against the boxes, his pants still open, his head lolling back. He looks utterly spent, and wrecked.
You sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. For a moment, there is only the sound of his slowing breaths and the distant, cheerful music of the reception hall.
The party was reaching its peak.
Slowly, he opens his eyes. He looks at you kneeling on the dusty floor of a storage closet, your dress disheveled, and your makeup probably smudged. A soft, incredulous laugh bubbles out of him, devoid of any real humor. He reaches out a trembling hand and brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead.
“We,” he says, his voice completely shot. “Are going to hell.”
“Worth it.” You smile
He lets his head fall back against the cardboard box with a dull thud.
“We have to… we have to get presentable.” He sounds exhausted as he stands and starts to right himself. “We have to go back out there and… and smile.”
You bite back a laugh standing along with him. You reach for his tie and tug him carefully toward you. Yoongi looks down at you for another second before his expression changes.
The amusement fades.
Not completely. There’s still that lazy little smile threatening at the corners of his mouth, but something softer settles underneath it. His hand comes up to your face again. He brushes his thumb over your lower lip and you realize something.
You aren't afraid.
Not of his hands on you.
Not even of what happens when you let someone close enough to see every vulnerable piece of you. You spent so long believing that being wanted meant surrendering something.
Your safety.
Your choices.
Your voice.
Yourself.
Your ex had taught you that love was something someone could use against you. That trust was a weapon if you handed it to the wrong person. That letting someone close enough to hurt you was the most dangerous thing you could possibly do.
But Yoongi never took anything.
He waited.
He asked.
He listened.
And somewhere between all the teasing and the first time you finally told him the truth, you realized that trusting someone didn't mean handing them control. It meant choosing to give them a piece of yourself and knowing you could take it back whenever you wanted.
You look at him now, standing in a dusty storage closet with his tie crooked, his hair ruined, and his dress shirt half untucked.
You chose this.
You chose him.
And somehow, that feels more powerful than anything you've ever done.
“You okay?” Yoongi's thumb moves gently over your cheek.
The question is so simple.
So completely him.
“Yeah.” You smile.
You lean forward and kiss him before he can ask again.
Slowly.
Softly.
Nothing frantic this time.
“You know what I like about you?” you whisper when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours.
“This should be good.” His mouth twitches and you laugh softly.
“You never make me,” you say and the humor disappears from his face. “You never make me tell you something before I'm ready. You never make me stay when I need space. You never make me prove that I love you.”
His eyes soften.
“And you never have to,” he says.
You glance toward the closet door. Somewhere beyond it, your family is laughing. Your brother is probably wondering where the hell you disappeared to. Your mother is probably looking for you. Someone is undoubtedly about to come searching. You reach for the handle but Yoongi catches your hand.
“Wait,” he says.
You look back at him. He reaches down, straightens your dress as best he can by carefully fixing the twisted strap on your shoulder. The gesture is so ridiculously domestic that you start laughing.
“What?” He asks.
“You're fixing my dress after we just had sex in a closet,” you laugh.
“I'm a gentleman.” He smiles.
“You just…” You start to tease.
“Don't ruin this for me.” He smirks.
You laugh harder and he pulls you against him.
And there it is.
That feeling.
Not the frantic rush of wanting someone. Not the terrifying vulnerability of needing someone.
Something quieter.
Something steadier.
Home.
“Ready?” You wrap your arms around him.
Yoongi looks toward the door.
Then back at you.
“Are you?” He asks.
“Yeah.” You smile.
And this time, when you open the door, you don't look back. You don't need to.
Yoongi is right there.
Not holding you there.
Not leading you.
Just standing beside you. Exactly where you want him to be.
“THERE THEY ARE.”
You both freeze as Chris calls out.
“I'm killing your brother.” Yoongi closes his eyes.
