author’s note: these are each a bit longer than intended, but not quite long enough to be drabbles on their own~~ if you want an extension or longer drabble of any, let me know because i’m kind of in love with athlete!bts rn. disclaimer: all gifs are credited under each boy’s name as cr., none of the gifs used here are my own; they are cropped for uniformity and easy reading
“I’m going to side with Jungkookie next time you chew him out for being too hard on himself.”
Your voice pulls Seokjin above the waters that engulf his body. He hears you in waves of clarity, every other word drowned beneath the pool water as he completes his butterfly lap. He swims to the edge of the pool where you’re crouched down, a paper bag in one hand, a towel in the other.
He shakes his hair gently and laughs as you flinch away. He’s beautiful like this; in this pool, surrounded by the water he claims saves him, and you argue will swallow him up one day. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he doesn’t care, as long as you keep coming around to warn him.
He sweeps his wet hair back and away from his forehead. “That for me?” He points at the towel.
“No, it’s for the other guy in the pool,” you sit down, criss cross.
“I’m jealous of him then. He’s got a real pretty girl taking care of him.”
He hoists himself out of the water and stands next to you. You were never quite sure whether Jin was made and born to be a swimmer or whether being a swimmer sculpted the body he has. Something like an Adonis; well proportioned limbs beneath layers of muscle and the perfect amount of squish, lovely all the same. He always gives himself credit for that face of his—as he should, you think, it’s a pretty one—but that body.
That body that towers above you as he dries his hair and torso, wraps the towel around his waist and extends an arm.
“No way, this kimchi is mine,” you tell him, moving the brown bag behind your back.
Jin only laughs softly and shakes his head, “No, give me your hand, love. I think it would fit in mine swimmingly, don’t you agree?”
“Kind of unfair that your boyfriend’s short as a stump, but better than half the team,” a sweaty, unhappy Seungcheol sits next to you.
You only chuckle and watch as Yoongi makes another perfect swish. “He’s persistent.”
“He’s crazy,” Seungcheol counters.
“That too,” you hum, “You chose your fate when you voted him captain.”
You lean back into the bleachers and watch as Yoongi instructs the rest of the team to run play number seventeen again in preparation for their upcoming championship. Seungcheol is mid-sip of his water bottle when Yoongi calls out for him and you see his body visibly choke up.
“Choi, get off your ass, back on the court, and away from my girl.”
You snicker as you watch Seungcheol scurry back onto the court, mumbling something about how Yoongi has it out for him. His presence is soon replaced by that of your blonde haired boyfriend; he places his hands on either side of you, looks down with little beads of sweat on the side of his face, and a slight smirk on his lips.
“Hi,” he sings after a minute of silence. You can’t help but laugh, sweeping his bangs out of eyes before returning the hello.
“You should give Scoups a break, he’s’s tired,” you pout. ”Besides, I thought you wanted me to be friends with your friends.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “When I said you should make friends, I meant with Seokjin and Namjoon, not these idiots.”
“Then why’d you invite me to sit in on your practice? Jin and Namjoon are on the swim team.”
“I figured you see me all hot and sweaty, get turned on, and then we’d go home and have great sex.”
He chuckles as you hit his bicep and leans over slightly to kiss your forehead, while mumble about how greasy he is. “Alright, fine, since you care about them so much, how about I end practice early, then you and me can go grab some food?”
“What, no great sex afterwards?”
Yoongi laughs, breathy yet full. “Shutup and get your stuff ready,” he tells you before walking back to center court.
Of course he’s still jumping off the walls. Only Hoseok could manage to attempt to teach someone how to play tennis in the blazing hot sun for two hours and still have enough energy to run a marathon.
“Hobi, I have a confession to make,” you huff, holding the ridiculously bright tennis ball in your hand, “I only asked you to teach me to play tennis for the aesthetic of the whole thing and because you look good in your uniform. Now can we please go back to your dorm and take a nap?”
Your words paint a heart shaped smile on his lips. He throws his head back with laughter—and suddenly it’s hard to tell whether you’re suffering because of the heat or his beautiful jawline. Probably both.
“You think I look good in my uniform?” He sniggers.
You roll your eyes, “The whole school thinks you look good in your uniform.”
He does though. He manages to not look ridiculous in his neon yellow shirt and matching tennis shoes. His calves are incredible and hidden behind his white shorts are the strongest pair of thighs you’ve ever seen. Somehow he’s pulling off his slightly transparent visor. For some unknown reason the sweatband around his wrist is attractive too. And when he swings on the ball his biceps flex and it’s a sight for sore eyes.
“I didn’t ask about the whole school, I asked you, sunshine.”
“Yes, Hobi, I just said that, stop being greasy,” you pout, “Now can we please get out of this heat?”
He laughs at your pain and if he weren’t so angelic you’d probably have already kneed him in the balls.
It’s too hot for touching but when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders you don’t push him away. “Alright, let’s go,” he kisses the top of your head and leads you off of the courts.
“For the record, you look really good in your uniform too,” he winks, “That skirt does wonders for your legs, babe.”
You take the racket out his hand and hit him atop his head, “Yah! Jung Hoseok, I told you to stop being greasy!”
You make your way around the couch and settle down next to your boyfriend who’s watch the taping of his last swim meet for the tenth time today, at least.
“Only you could set the record for fastest backstroke and still be upset, Joonie.”
Namjoon works harder than anyone you know, whether it be at his school work or training. He’s constantly on the grind to improve himself, push himself to be a little better than he was yesterday. It’s admirable, but he’s also the most self-critical person on the planet.
“He was tailing me, (Y/N). If I had been even one stroke slower, I would have lost.”
“But you weren’tone stroke slower, Joon. You won.”
“But I could have—”
“You could shutup and pay attention to your girlfriend,” you interrupt with a smile. “I made popcorn.”
Namjoon’s eyes soften and a gentle smile graces his lips. You’re an angel in his eyes; why you choose to stick with him and his self-criticism and hectic practice schedules is beyond him. He only knows he’s grateful for it.
“You know I’m not supposed to eat that,” he sighs.
“Popcorn is healthy for you! Jin told me so.”
“Pretty sure you mean pizza, not popcorn.”
“Alright, then let’s go get pizza.”
“Baby, I can’t—”
“Can’t? That doesn’t sound like the attitude of a winner to me,” you pout, and his eyes grow at your use of his own words against him. When he doesn’t say anything, only looks down at your lap and sighs, you reach your free hand to cup his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Kim Namjoon, you just broke a regional record that hasn’t been broken in thirty years and you’re telling me you can’t let your girlfriend treat you to a slice of pizza?”
He kisses you with his soft lips and smiles back. “I love you, you know that?”
You peck his lips again and run your hands through his hair, “I know, Joon. But you should love yourself just as much.”
Yeah, he thinks. You’re an angel sent from above. His angel.
“Like, the Disney princess?” he asks, “Why’s that?”
He takes your mitten-clad hands in his and leading you onto the ice. You stumble, but he’s there to catch you. “You know, with the blonde hair and the ice and everything.”
Jimin only smiles and emits a breathy laugh. “Whatever you say, love.”
You’re about to remark on his resemblance to the ice princess again, but Jimin soon starts skating backwards, dragging you along with him by the extension of your hands.
“Wah—Jimin, you said we’d go slow!” You yell and he makes circles around the rink, giggles flying at your distress.
“Going slow is no fun!” He quips, suddenly changing directions. The speed makes his bangs fly over his forehead and cover his eyes—and he really does look like Elsa, you think—or at least you try to think when you’re not thinking about how you’re going to die if he doesn’t stop.
“Jiminie!” you screech, as he comes to a sudden halt, holding you close to his chest. His eye smile is the only thing saving him from a serious beating right now. That and the fact that if he skated away, you couldn’t catch him in your wildest dreams.
“If you’re gonna wear my jersey, you’ve gotta go faster than two inches an hour, babe. I don’t want people thinking I’m in love with a wimp.”
You roll your eyes. “Fine, then I’ll just wear Seokmin’s jersey.”
“Not a chance,” he rolls his eyes back at you.
You take in his wind brushed hair and flushed face. He scrunches his nose slightly, flashing a smile that reaches his eyes. You almost tilt your head wondering if this Park Jimin is the same boy who bodychecked a guy so hard he knocked his tooth out last Tuesday.
“Your nose is red.”
Jimin wraps his arms around your waist and shrugs, “It’s okay. The cold never bothered me anyway.”
“Gross, Tae, get off of me, you’re all sweaty and grassy!” You shove your indeed sweaty and grass-stain infected boyfriend away from you to no avail.
Taehyung only giggles into your ears and hugs you closer. “I thought you said I look hot when I’m sweaty.”
“You look hot, but you smell gross. Tae, come on, this shirt is new.”
“That shirt is mine.”
You feel the heat rise to your face and shove him again. “You can’t even be here it’s a thirty second time out!”
He finally retreats and looks at you with messy hair and a rectangular smile.
“Kim! Get back here!” His coach yells on cue. Taehyung gives him a thumbs up, and you a quick kiss to cheek before running back to his team’s side, yelling about how you jinxed it. Only your Taehyung would think it’s appropriate to run to the sidelines to hug his girlfriend mid-time out.
“You two are gross,” Yoongi comments. Jungkook agrees with him.
“They’re cute, hyung,” Namjoon beams.
The whistle is blown and Taehyung is back in action, weaving the soccer ball between his feet and past the other team. He winks at you when he scores; Yoongi is seconds from barfing up his lunch. You only shake your head and watch ahead.
Tae’s team is quick to jump on him when he scores the winning goal. They carry him off to the sidelines as the game ends and players and spectators alike begin to pack up their belongings. Tae looks at you from across the field, gloriously sweaty and grass-stained, and mouths “now?” to you.
You can only giggle and nod your head. He runs and engulfs you in a warm (and overdramatic, according to Jungkook) hug. He’s spinning you around, his giggles swirling with yours and you feel like you’re floating—all of his sweat and stains forgotten. When you stop, he doesn’t give you time to congratulate him or scold you for messing up your—his—shirt; he kisses you, happily and deeply, grime and all.
Yoongi and Jungkook pretend to vomit in the background, but he doesn’t care. “I love you,” he beams, before kissing you again.
There are pros and cons to dating a varsity athlete.
The pros include laying underneath your boyfriend as you “help” him do pushups and receiving a kiss each time he leans down; resting your head on said boyfriend’s toned chest; the feeling of his calloused hands ghosting along your sides while you cuddle on his futon; wearing his alternate jersey at games, despite it being too many sizes too big for your smaller frame; and cute picnic dates in the middle of an empty baseball field.
The cons include waking up at five in the morning to attend said picnic date.
“Come on, this is cute!” he exclaims as you take another bite into your breakfast sandwich. He hadn’t even opted for you two to sit in the bleachers—instead, setting up picnic over the pitcher’s mound.
You only stare back at him, thinking about what you wanna do more: kiss him or smack him. It is cute, you reason, so you won’t smack him. It’d be cuter if you didn’t have to wake up at five to do it, so you won’t kiss him either.
In lieu, you give him a soft smile. He sure is precious with that his two-row bunny smile he’s got.
Jungkook breaks your train of thought with a sudden squeal, “Ooh, come here, it’s starting.” He motions for you come over to his side of the small bump. You shuffle over, having given up on keeping your leggings clean, and sit next to him. He takes the blanket he’d kept in his lap and spreads it over your shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. (That’s another pro—those damn arms).
Jungkook points just over the edge of the top of the stadium where the sun can be seen poking out. The sky is a gorgeous yellow-orange hue as the ball of light makes it way high into the sky. You look up at him, smile as warm as the sunlight being cast on the two of you lean slightly to kiss his cheek.
“I guess this is cute,” you lean on his shoulder afterwards (pro number twenty-seven), and wrap your hands around his waist.
“Told you so,” he hums. You smile into his neck, because who would have thought star pitcher of the varsity baseball team, Jeon Jungkook would be into cheesy picnic dates and watching the sunrise?