#guys... how do i tag for him... guys... GUYS.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

guliexe · 2 days ago

Text

—ON THE LOW 18+

Dealer!Nicholas/Wang Yixiang x Female!Reader

warnings/tags: slow burn, dealer/stoner!nicho, i call him weno in this, soft dom!nicho, shy!reader, loverboy!nicho, drug use, shotgunning, romantic, making out, dry humping, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, mating press, crying, unprotected sex, confessing, aftercare

♡ you started buying weed for your friends and ended up falling for the dealer—turns out, he fell even harder.

w/c: 9.7k (no proofread)

You’d seen him around long before you ever spoke to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore. Not because he was loud, Weno was anything but loud, but because he had this presence. Calm, quiet, and detached, like nothing ever really touched him. He was always there but just out of reach. The kind of person who didn’t care if people were watching, but somehow still ended up being the one everyone looked at. You had a couple classes near the same buildings. He always showed up late, always dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed—big hoodie, baggy jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Never rushed. Never looked stressed. Just there. He’d walk past where you and your friends were sitting on the grass and barely glance your way. But even that one second felt heavier than it should. You didn’t know much about him, but you noticed him. You always had. Weno wasn’t exactly a mystery, everyone on campus knew what he did, they just didn’t talk about it. Not out loud, anyway. The stories passed around in whispers. That he sells, and it’s good shit too. That he never chased customers, people came to him. That if he liked you, he might give you more than you paid for. That if he really liked you, you’d know.

You didn’t know if any of that was true. But what you did know was that your friends wanted weed and were too scared to go get it themselves. So they asked you. Apparently, being the quiet one made you the designated “safe” option. It wasn’t like you and Weno were strangers, anyway. You’d talked a few times now. Nothing long, quick chats during pickups, the occasional hi at a party when you passed by each other. He’d never made you feel weird or unsafe. Just… flustered. A little warm in the chest, a little unsure what to say next. He had a way of watching you that felt deliberate, even when he said nothing at all. Your friend had shoved some cash into your hand at the last minute, babbling about how “he’s chill, he’s not scary, just please go for me, I can’t” — and you’d sighed, texting him before you could overthink it. He told you to meet him behind the dorms. 6:30. You almost didn’t go. You weren’t sure why he made you nervous, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that label. But something about him felt sharp beneath all the calm. Like he could see through you if he wanted to. When you rounded the corner that evening, he was already leaning against the side of his car, phone in hand, headphones around his neck. The sun was low, painting the edges of his face gold. You caught yourself staring before you could stop. He looked up as you approached. “Didn’t expect you,” he said, not moving. You blinked, “Why?” He shrugged, “Thought one of your loud friends would be the one to show. You’re not really the type to do this.” It wasn’t teasing exactly, but the way he said it made your face warm. You cleared your throat. “They made me come.” “Mm,” he hummed. “Figured.”

He pushed off the car, pulling a ziplock from his hoodie pocket. You reached for it automatically, but he didn’t hand it over right away. “You ever tried it?” You shook your head. “No. It’s not really… my thing.” He tilted his head slightly. Not judging, just observing. “Didn’t think it was.” he chuckled softly, then he handed it to you, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You looked down at your hand, not at the bag, but at where your skin still tingled. “You’re good,” he said quietly, “Let me know next time.” You nodded, muttered a soft thanks, already starting to turn away, but then he said your name. You froze and glanced back. He was still standing by his car, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keys around his finger. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip, like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. “You always do stuff for your friends?” His tone was casual, but the question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugged a little. “They want something, and you’re the one who shows up.” A pause. “That happen a lot?”You weren’t sure how to answer. It did happen a lot. They asked, you went. Not because you wanted to, but because it felt easier than saying no. You glanced down at the ziplock in your hand. “I guess,” you mumbled. “I don’t know.” He hummed low, like that told him everything he needed to know. You looked back up, ready to say something else—anything, maybe even defend yourself, but he beat you to it. “You’re a good girl.” The words were soft and genuine, but they landed heavy. Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t waver—steady, calm, like he hadn’t just said something that made your skin go warm all over. You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t even know what it meant coming from him. You just knew it made something flutter in your stomach. “Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked off a little too quickly, heart pounding, ears hot, his voice still echoing behind your ribs. You’re a good girl. You didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long before your friends asked again. Same excuse, same tone, a whiny “please, he already knows you” and cash pushed into your hand like you owed them something. You hesitated more this time. Not because of them, but because of him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about last time. It replayed in your head again and again. You stared at his contact in your phone for some minutes before typing out the message.

You

hey my friends wanna grab again

He replied two minutes later.

Weno

same place 7:30

When you showed up this time, he was inside his car, driver’s door open, music playing low through the speakers. He looked up as you approached and smiled, lazy and half-lidded. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey.”You tried not to sound nervous. You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. This wasn’t new. You’d done this before. But this time, it felt different. You felt different. He stepped out, shutting the car door behind him as he pulled the same ziplock from the pocket of his jeans. You took it wordlessly, but his fingers brushed yours again, on purpose this time. You could feel it in the way he didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately. “Still not trying it?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook your head. “Not yet.” He raised a brow. “Why not?” “I just… haven’t.” You tucked the bag quickly into your jacket pocket like it might deflect the attention. “You scared?” The way he asked it wasn’t mocking, just curious, like he wanted to understand you, not challenge you. You hesitated. “No,” you said finally. “Just don’t wanna.” He nodded slowly, watching you again with that unreadable expression. “Still doing things for your friends, though.” You pressed your lips together. “I guess.” “They ever do stuff for you?” You blinked. “What?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You didn’t answer. Mostly because you didn’t have one. He could probably tell, because he didn’t push. He just looked at you for a long second, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to meet your gaze as he rolled a blunt for him. “You should stop letting people use you.” The bluntness of it caught you off guard. You shifted on your feet, unsure whether to say thank you or tell him it wasn’t like that, even though maybe it was. “You don’t even like them that much, do you?” Your breath hitched. “They’re my friends.” “Mm,” he hummed. “If you say so.”

After that, it happened a few more times. The same routine: a text, a time, a quiet walk behind the dorms where he’d be waiting. Sometimes he was standing. Sometimes in the driver’s seat with the door open. Sometimes already smoking, low music humming from the speakers. And each time, it got a little easier to look him in the eye. But also harder not to look too long. Weno never talked much. He didn’t fill silence just to hear himself speak. He asked things, small things, personal in ways that didn’t feel invasive, just seen. He was trying to piece you together quietly, without making a show of it. You’d come with your friends’ money in your pocket and leave with more than you paid for. Not every time, but enough that you noticed. When you offered to give him more, he just shook his head, said “You’re good,” and he meant it, it wasn’t just about the cash anymore. You didn’t tell your friends about how often you started going. Sometimes it wasn’t even about picking up anymore. You’d hand over the cash, but he’d wave it off. “Not this time.” You started to wonder if he even gave you real amounts. If this was still a deal or just an excuse. What you did know was that somewhere along the way, something started to shift.

It was in the way your pulse picked up when his name lit up your screen. In how you started getting ready earlier than you needed to. In how you made sure your outfit and make up was cute before leaving, like that would help keep your face from giving you away when he looked at you like he always did. It was on the low. No one really knew how often you were seeing him now—certainly not your friends. To them, it was still just you doing the awkward task they were too scared for. They didn’t know that half the time you went to Weno now, it wasn’t even because of them. Sometimes they didn’t ask at all—you just found yourself texting him anyway. And he always said yes. You weren’t sure when it stopped being about weed. You weren’t sure it ever really was. Sometimes you’d sit with him for a while. In the passenger seat of his car, parked in the same quiet lot behind the dorms. He’d roll one and lean back with the window cracked, slow smoke curling out into the night while music filled the silence. He never pushed anything on you. Never asked why you stayed. But you stayed. You weren’t good at talking about yourself, and he didn’t make you. He just gave you space to exist, and maybe that was what started doing it. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling warmer every time you saw him. More sure that he saw you. And you started to open up to him. You two would hang out and talk about anything and anyone very frequently.

You were curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, jacket zipped halfway. The night was cool, and the air smelled like weed and cologne, smoke curling from the blunt between his fingers. His playlist low in the background that made it feel like time moved slower in his car. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just sat there, letting the silence hang. But it wasn’t awkward. Weno never made things awkward. You gave him a small smile, eyes drifting out the window. The streetlights cast a warm glow across the dashboard. He tapped the ash into the tray and leaned back, one arm stretched across the back of your seat like he didn’t even think about it. “I don’t get it,” you said quietly after a moment. “You do this with all your clients?” “Do what?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, playful but unreadable. “This.” You motioned vaguely between you. “Sit in the car, talk like this, not charge them.” He chuckled once, deep and soft in his chest. “No.” You blinked. “No?” He turned his head, looked right at you, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re not you.” Your stomach fluttered. You tried to play it off, but your smile gave you away. He tilted his head slightly, watching you through the soft haze in the car. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Your head snapped toward him. “What?” He smirked, exhaled a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. “Client,” he added after a beat, but the pause was on purpose. His smirk deepened like he knew what he was doing to you. Your face went warm immediately. “Shut up,” you muttered, covering your smile with your hand. “I’m serious.” His tone was calm. “You don’t talk much, you don’t ask dumb questions, you never waste my time.” “Oh,” you said quietly. But your smile stayed. “So I’m convenient.” He leaned a little closer, voice dropping low. “Nah. You’re cute.” Your heart jumped. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know what to say. So you laughed—awkward and soft, trying to bury your face in your hands like that might cool your cheeks. You left a little later than usual that night.

Three days later, when your screen lit up with a text from him, you answered in less than a minute.

Weno

u free tonight?

wanna chill for a bit?

♡

You

yeah :)

same spot?

♡

Weno

pull up at 10

no rush

You tried not to read into it too much. But you still picked out a different hoodie this time, your favorite one, did a little extra on your make up, styled your hair in way you knew framed your face best. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything. But your hands still felt warm as you walked out to meet him. His car was already there when you arrived. You climbed into the passenger seat, familiar now with the way the door stuck a little when you pulled it. Same playlist was on, and the heat was turned up just enough to make the inside feel cozy. He glanced over as you settled in, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, quiet. “Hey,” you murmured back, smiling a little.

The next hour passed easily, like it always did when you were with him. You talked about nothing and everything, classes, music, random campus drama you weren’t even involved in, movies you both halfway remembered, the last weird dream you had. He laughed more than usual tonight, low and slow, eyes squinting a little when something you said caught him off guard. His hand rested on the steering wheel as he listened, thumb tapping the leather in a lazy rhythm. He made you feel comfortable, like whatever you had to say mattered even if it didn’t. Like he was listening just because it was you talking. At some point, he lit up. You were mid-sentence when he leaned forward to spark the lighter, the soft flick of it barely cutting into the music. He offered it to you once out of habit, holding the blunt out between two fingers, and this time you didn’t shake your head immediately. You hesitated. Then, before you could overthink it, you took it. Your fingers brushed his. His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze lingered longer than before. “You sure?” he asked, voice soft, a little more serious now. You slowly nodded. “Yeah. Just—don’t laugh at me if I cough.” He smiled, “I won’t.” He leaned back into his seat. “Promise.” You inhaled, a small hit, like you’d seen him do a hundred times now. It burned, made your throat tickle, your eyes water just a little, but you didn’t cough. He watched carefully, still smiling. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened at the words, heat blooming under your skin before you could stop it. You handed it back to him quickly, trying to focus on the burn in your lungs, the soft thrum of bass in the background, anything except how warm you suddenly felt. Time got slower after that. An hour passed in a haze, soft laughter, lazy conversation, both of you sinking deeper into your seats, the windows fogging slightly. He smoked again, and passed it back and forth to you. Your body felt lighter. Music melted into the background, his voice a little rough now. You both stared out at the empty parking lot for a while, just existing. It was quiet in the way that felt close, not awkward. Every time your knee brushed his, he didn’t move. Every time you shifted, his eyes flicked toward your mouth, then back to the road like he didn’t want to get caught looking. And maybe it was the high, or the way the space between you had been shrinking since the start, but something changed. You turned to say something and caught him already looking at you, staring. His arm was still draped behind your seat, but now his fingers were brushing your shoulder, light and casual. You blinked at him. “What?” you whispered, voice lower than before. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, eyes warm, thoughtful. “C’mere.” You didn’t even think. You just leaned forward, heart thudding quietly behind your ribs as his hand slid slowly to the back of your neck. He tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed yours soft at first, testing. Then again, firmer. You leaned into it. Your heart stuttered, hands unsure of where to go. One found the edge of his hoodie. The other pressed lightly to his chest. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for a while. He wasn’t in any rush now that it was finally happening. You kissed him back slow, high and a little breathless, your skin buzzing all over. He pulled back eventually, just enough to look at you, eyes dark and steady.

“You’re high,” he said, almost teasing. “So are you,” you whispered. He smiled, gaze dropping to your lips again. “Yeah. But I still meant it.” You smiled, small and dazed, and tucked your legs under you again, curling back into your seat. The car was quiet for a few more minutes. Nothing changed. But everything had. And when you finally said you should go, he didn’t stop you. Just nodded, reached over, and opened the door for you like he always did. Before you stepped out, he caught your wrist gently. You turned back. His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Text me when you get in.” You nodded, “Okay.”

You

made it home :)

♡

Weno

good

was starting to think u got lost

♡

You

nope

just still thinking

♡

Weno

about?

♡

You

you

♡

Weno

yeah?

what part

♡

You

the obvious part

♡

Weno

i liked that part too

didn’t rlly want u to go

♡

You

u didn’t?

♡

Weno

nah

wanted to kiss u again

♡

You

i wanted to too

but i got nervous :(

♡

Weno

it’s ok bby

will i see u again soon?

♡

You

yeah

if u want to

♡

Weno

i do

♡

You

can’t wait

goodnight weno :)

♡

Weno

me neither

gn <3

You didn’t stop thinking about that night. Or his texts. Or when he said he wanted to kiss you again. The way your heart stuttered when he called you bby like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was already normal between you. It wasn’t, not really. But it was starting to be. You’d kept texting after that. Not every second of the day, but enough. Little check-ins, good mornings, music recs, late night questions that felt heavier than they sounded. He was never overly forward, not the type to blow up your phone or say things just to get a reaction, but everything he did say stuck with you. You were head over heels. Smiling at your phone and then burying your face in your pillow like an idiot every time. So when one of your friends mentioned the party coming up—some frat guy’s birthday, everyone was going, “you have to come, it’s gonna be huge”—you didn’t think much of it at first. Until she added, casually, “Pretty sure Weno’s gonna be there too, so you can’t get us some stuff as well?” That made your heart skip. You played it off, said “yeah, cool” and shrugged, but your brain had already started spiraling. What if you saw him? What if you didn’t? What if he ignored you in front of everyone? What if he didn’t? You told yourself you weren’t going for him. But you still stood in front of your closet longer than usual. You picked a dress—short, tight, something you hadn’t worn before. Simple, but it hugged you in all the right places. You did your makeup with more care than usual, spritzed perfume on your neck, your wrists, let your hair fall soft and full around your shoulders. You didn’t tell anyone why you looked a little extra tonight. But you kind of hoped he’d be there. And you really hoped he’d notice.

The house was already packed by the time you got there—music thumping through the walls, bodies crammed together in every corner, red cups in almost every hand. Lights low, flashing sometimes, music echoing through a speaker in the living room. It smelled like sweat, beer, weed, and cheap cologne. Typical. Your friends disappeared as soon as you walked in, squealing at someone they recognized near the kitchen. You stayed back for a second, just long enough to scan the crowd. Not because you were looking for anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. And then you saw Weno. Leaning against the far wall near the stairs, hoodie half-zipped over a white tank, cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking a little. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t talking loud or laughing or drinking like the rest of them. Just standing there, calm and unreadable, eyes lazily moving through the room like he’d been here a hundred times before. He was talking to someone, dapping them up quick, pulling something from his pocket and handing it off like it was nothing. No one looked twice. Just a quiet exchange, over in seconds. He didn’t try to be subtle, he didn’t have to. People came to him. You stayed near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending to be more focused on your friends than you were. But your eyes kept drifting back. He looked good. Effortlessly good. And he hadn’t seen you yet. You tried not to look over too often. Tried to focus on your friends and their chaotic conversations, the loud music, the colorful lights. You laughed at jokes that didn’t really register. Nodded along. Sipped water from your cup and told yourself it wasn’t that serious. He wasn’t even talking to you. He was doing his own thing. Still, your gaze kept drifting. Just to see if he was still there. Still. Every time you checked, he was. Some minutes passed like that—just you pretending to be more chill than you felt while your friends chattered and moved toward the crowd. You stayed behind, needing a second to breathe. You slipped into the kitchen, mostly empty now, except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint bass vibrating through the floor. You reached for the fridge handle, intent on just grabbing some cold water and hiding out for a bit, but when you turned, he was already there. Standing just inside the doorway. Watching. Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes scanned you slowly—top to bottom, unhurried. You felt it like a heatwave, settling low in your stomach. His gaze was darker than usual. Focused, sharp. You dropped your eyes immediately, trying not to fidget. Tugged lightly on the hem of your dress like it might help somehow, like maybe it covered more than it did. You felt your cheeks flush without him even having to speak. You weren’t even sure why you were so nervous. You’d seen him like this before, but something about tonight made it worse. Made you bite your lip without thinking. Made your cheeks burn just from the way he looked at you. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice calm and even. A little rough from the smoke, but still warm. You glanced up, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said, “Wasn’t really planning to, but… my friends dragged me.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you came.” Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting that. “You look good tonight.” It landed heavy in your chest. No teasing. No smirk. Just him saying it like it was a fact. Your whole body flushed. “Oh,” you said, voice small. “Um. Thanks.” He nodded once, eyes still on you, and then glanced back toward the hallway. “I’m heading up to the balcony for a bit. If you wanna get some air.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just gave you one last look—soft, lingering—and pushed off the doorframe to leave. “Come find me,” he said, and then he was gone. Leaving you standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth, wondering how the hell he always made you feel like this without even trying.

You lingered in the kitchen for a while after he left, pretending to scroll through your phone, half-listening to the party still pulsing through the walls. Your friends had fully disappeared into the crowd by now, probably dancing or taking shots or screaming over music. You told yourself you were just cooling off. Just getting a break from the noise. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at you. The way he said it—You look good tonight. Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he meant it, and he knew you’d heard him loud and clear. Eventually, you texted some excuse about needing air, said you’d be right back if anyone even cared that you left. You slipped out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs, heartbeat loud in your ears, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot nervous. The hallway was quiet, just some closed doors and the muffled hum of bass below. You found the door to the balcony slightly cracked open, soft breeze pushing in from the night. You pushed it open gently. There he was. He sat on a low, beat-up couch tucked against the wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent, arm thrown over the backrest like he owned the space. Head tilted back just slightly, hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips parted around the blunt as he took a slow drag. The ember glowed red in the dark, lighting up the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. He looked unfairly good. Like the air belonged to him. Like nothing touched him. He turned his head lazily when he heard the door, eyes finding yours through the smoke. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you, then took another slow hit, exhaling with a quiet sigh before speaking.

“Knew you’d come.” You swallowed hard, heart kicking up again like you hadn’t already spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm it down. His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was something behind it—something that made your chest tighten a little. You stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you. You sat down beside him, slow and careful, the cushion dipping under your weight. His knee brushed yours just slightly, warm through the fabric. You glanced over, then down again, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just—I’d rather be up here with you than down there in all that chaos.” That got him to finally look at you. Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to read deeper than what you were saying out loud. He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash from the blunt, leaned back again, eyes still on you. You breathed in through your nose, steadying yourself. Then softer, barely louder than the wind, you added, “I missed you.” He turned his head fully now, letting the blunt rest between his fingers. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. His eyes softened just a bit. “Yeah?” he said, voice a little quieter than before. “I missed you too.” It landed in your chest like a weight—like the kind of thing you weren’t sure you were allowed to want, but did anyway. He leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but just enough for his knee to press softly into yours. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

“You been thinking about me?” he asked, voice still calm, but something about it made your stomach twist. You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you had to look away. “…Maybe.” He smiled at that, small and crooked and unfairly attractive. “Same.” And then he took another hit like he hadn’t just wrecked you with a single word. He let the silence hang for a few seconds after that, the blunt burning slow between his fingers, and then he said it quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Come closer.” Your eyes flicked to his, heart stuttering a little. He didn’t look away, didn’t shift or make room, just waited. You hesitated for a second and then moved, scooting over until your leg was pressed fully against his. He reached out casually, like it was second nature, and slid his arm around your shoulders. A soft tug, and suddenly you were leaning into him, your head falling against his chest like it belonged there. You could feel everything. His warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. His hoodie smelled like smoke and laundry and him. He brought the blunt to his lips again, took a hit, then lowered it and turned his head slightly toward you.“Want some?” he murmured. You shook your head, just once. “Not right now.” He hummed, didn’t push. Just let his hand stay where it was on your shoulder, thumb brushing idly against your arm. You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. You both just sat there, pressed together on the old balcony couch, the party a muffled storm below you, the stars wide and scattered above. You listened to the wind. The soft scratch of fabric when he shifted. The occasional drag and exhale as he smoked. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself feel all of it.

He shifted a little, moving his hand lower on your arm, caressing the skin, his breath warm against your hair. You felt his heartbeat quicken just a bit beneath your cheek. The silence between you was thick. to be noticed. You glanced up at him, your eyes catching his in the dim light. There was something softer there now. Something unspoken, but heavy. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering near your temple. Your breath hitched. He leaned down just a little, voice low and casual, “You’re beautiful.” You swallowed, barely able to meet his gaze as your face flushed again. Then, just like that, he closed the tiny gap between you. His lips found yours slow and gentle, before deepening the kiss, like he’d been wanting to do this all night. You melted into him, your hand slowly reaching up to rest on his chest as the world around you faded. It’s not gentle anymore, it’s urgent, needy. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue slides against yours, deep and demanding. You whimper softly, the sound lost in the press of his mouth, your body melting into his. He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, voice husky, “Wanna get out of here? I’ve got my car nearby.” Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, breath catching again as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

He doesn’t rush you, just laces his fingers through yours, warm and firm, and gives your hand a gentle tug. You follow without thinking, legs shaky as you leave the balcony behind and slip back into the quiet hallway. The party feels distant now, like the world narrowed down to just him, the weight of his hand in yours, the aftertaste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. The walk to his car is quiet, but not awkward. When he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, you hesitate for half a second before slipping in beside him. The doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you both inside the low, warm hum of the vehicle. He leans back, legs stretched out, calm like always, but there’s a heat behind his eyes when he looks at you. A spark still flickering from earlier. “I’m gonna roll real quick,” he murmurs, pulling out his tray and grinder from the center console like it’s second nature. You nod, watching him work—his fingers nimble, methodical, the lighter’s flame briefly illuminating his face when he brings the blunt to his lips. The car fills with the earthy scent of smoke, and his head tilts back slightly as he exhales, half-lidded. He looks so fucking fine like this, bathed in shadows and smoke, hoodie loose around his collarbones, the faint red glow of the blunt lighting up his lips. Then he turns his head toward you again and you don’t even get the chance to fully catch your breath before he leans in again, free hand finding your cheek as he kisses you.

The smoke still lingers on his breath, and you melt into it, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours. His fingers are on your thigh, squeezing gently as he pulls you closer. The kiss turns messier, full of need, soft gasps and low groans echoing through the car. Your hand grips his hoodie low, holding on like you might fall apart if you let go. He pulls back only enough to whisper, breath ghosting over your lips, “Could do this all night.” Then his mouth is on yours again. More heat, more tongue, more breathless little noises spilling from your lips as your body starts to tremble in his hands. Without breaking the kiss, his hands move, one sliding up your thigh, the other settling on your waist. “C’mere,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low but soft. You barely register what he means until his hands are guiding you, pulling you gently, firmly, right onto his lap. One leg at a time, knees sinking into the seat on either side of him, hands braced on his shoulders, your dress hiking up as you settle onto him, straddling him, face to face. He leans back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, red from the weed, blunt still between his fingers. One of his hands slides up your side, fingers grazing your waist and ribs over the thin fabric of your dress. He takes his time with it, like he’s learning your shape. Your breath stutters as his hand travels higher, stopping just under your arm. He brings the blunt to his lips again, takes a long, slow hit, his chest rising beneath you, and then leans in close. His free hand curves around the back of your neck, guiding your face closer to his. You part your lips on instinct, and he exhales the smoke right into your mouth, warm and slow, curling over your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe it in, heart thudding, and then he kisses you. Kisses you like he’s taking the air right back from your lungs.

Your breath catches when you feel his hands slide down, beneath the hem of your dress. He pushes it up slowly, bunching the fabric around your waist until the cool air hits your thighs. You shift slightly, nervous, thighs tightening around his hips as he exposes more of you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a second, eyes flicking down to where your panties are now visible, his palms firm on the back of your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, mouth finding your neck, and everything gets messier after that. He kisses down the side of your throat, open, warm, wet, his lips dragging along the skin, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips twitch against him. You whimper quietly, trying to stay still, but he’s already pulling you closer with both hands, guiding your body into his like he knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head for him without thinking, shy sounds escaping your mouth as he works his way up to your jaw, then down again, kissing a little rougher now. “Weno…” you whisper, voice breaking around his name. “Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low against your skin. “You’re okay.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders instinctively, face burning as you shift in his lap, unintentionally grinding down just slightly. His reaction is immediate, a quiet groan right into your neck, his hands tightening on your hips. “Just like that,” he breathes.

Your hips grind down harder without thinking, breath coming out in shaky gasps as the friction starts to feel almost too good. His hands slip under the back of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movement like he needs it just as bad. You’re whimpering into the heated space between you, clinging to his hoodie, your body trembling slightly with every slow drag of your hips over his. Your panties are soaked. His pants are straining. The windows are fogging up, and the whole car smells like weed, sweat, and heat. He tilts his head, catching your mouth again in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, like he can’t stop tasting you. His hand slides up your waist, grazing under the curve of your chest over the thin fabric of your dress, and you shudder, moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulls back, just a little, resting his forehead against yours as both of you try to breathe. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest rising and falling beneath you. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You blink at him, dazed, lips swollen and barely parted, still trying to catch your breath. He looks at you for a long second, hands still on your waist, grounding you. “I don’t wanna do this in the car,” he says, voice rough. “You deserve better than that.” Your breath hitches, heat flaring even higher at how serious he sounds. “Wanna go to my place?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your side. You nod slowly, shy but needy, your fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, a little scared to let go. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Okay.” He kisses you once more, soft and sweet, before pulling back just enough to reach for the keys.

The door shut with a quiet click, sealing you into the warmth of his place. It was dark, mostly, just the glow of a streetlamp slipping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Neither of you spoke. You turned slightly, lips parting like you might say something, but he was already reaching for you. His hands found your waist in the dark, pulling you in with no hesitation, and his mouth was on yours before you could even breathe. Kissing you hungrily, deep and needy. Everything he hadn’t said tonight was pouring out of him all at once, into the way he held you, the way his lips moved over yours. His grip was firm, hands splayed over your hips, your back arching into him as you kissed him back just as desperately. He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, slow, steady steps through the short hallway, lips never leaving yours. You barely registered the corners of the space or how you ended up where you did until the back of your knees hit something soft. And then he was lowering you onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, and your breath caught as he hovered above you, eyes dark and steady on yours. Then, without a word, he zipped down his hoodie and took it off. Now just in a white tank, it clung to his frame in all the right places, the cut of his collarbone visible, shoulders broad and sharp under the light. He looked down at you for a second longer, breathing hard, gaze lingering on your face like he couldn’t believe you were really there. Then he leaned down, kissing you again, less rushed, but just as intense. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your dress, moving deliberately, memorizing the shape of you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a second, eyes flicking between yours, voice low and wrecked. “You good?” he asked, forehead brushing yours. You nodded, cheeks burning, lips swollen already. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

He didn’t wait long after your answer. His mouth moved to your neck, warm and open, lips brushing your skin before he started kissing, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue gently along the curve of your throat. You gasped, breath hitching as he sucked softly at a spot just below your jaw. Then again, a little lower. Your hips twitched beneath him when you felt his teeth graze you. “Weno—” you whispered, but it came out as more of a breath than a word. “You’re so pretty” he murmured, voice barely there, like he was talking to himself. “Always are.” His hand moved down slowly, slipping over your waist and along the outside of your thigh before sliding back up under the hem of your dress. His touch was patient, teasing, he didn’t rush. Just let his fingertips brush along the top of your thigh, higher and higher until they were tracing the edge of your panties. He pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, slowly, and let his fingers slide between your folds, touching your bare heat. You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow, lips parting in a silent moan. “Shit,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “So soaked f’me, baby.” Your cheeks burned, thighs tensing slightly around his hand. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then lower, just above your chest, tongue wet and warm as his fingers began to move—slow circles at first, barely-there pressure that made you squirm beneath him. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady like he could feel how close you already were, how much you wanted him. “You’re so sensitive,” he muttered, voice deep and low, teeth grazing your skin as he kissed up to your ear.

You whimpered his name, hips grinding into his hand without meaning to. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging slick circles against your clit as he kept his mouth on your neck. Every kiss felt more urgent, but not rushed. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something heavier. And then he leaned up, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time,” he murmured, breath warm, fingers still teasing between your thighs. “Even when I’m not supposed to. Even when I try not to.” Your heart flipped, aching at how raw it sounded coming from him. “I don’t even think you know what you do to me,” he continued, a soft kiss behind your ear. “How long I’ve wanted you like this. Letting me touch you.” The words hit harder than anything else had—deeper than the kisses, deeper than his touch. Your chest tightened, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him down until your lips met again. Your moans melted into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips rolled up into his hand. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider for him.

And then, without warning, he shifted his hand lower, deeper. Your lips parted in a quiet gasp as he slid one finger inside you, slow and careful. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, already aching from how worked up you were, how long he’d been teasing. He didn’t wait long before easing in a second finger, stretching you just a little more. His movements were smooth, curling them up inside you just right, drawing out whiny, breathless little sounds from your throat you couldn’t hold back. You buried your face in his shoulder, hands gripping his bicep, your hips rocking involuntarily into every slow thrust of his fingers. He moved deep and steady, his palm pressing into you, thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit in rhythm. He kept moving inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. You were so close, the tension winding tighter and tighter in your stomach, breath catching with every stroke. But just as your legs began to shake, just as your hips bucked up into his hand with a quiet, desperate moan—he pulled out. You whined at the loss, hips stuttering forward instinctively, chasing the friction. “Weno…” “I know,” he murmured, breathless himself, voice thick with need. “I know, baby.” He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The soft light coming through the cracked door hit his chest just right—shoulders broad, abs toned, skin flushed and warm. His chain shifted against his skin when he moved.

Then he was reaching for you again, hands gentle. “Can I?” he asked, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You nodded, cheeks hot, eyes wide and dazed. “Y-Yeah” He pulled it up slowly, lifting it over your head. His eyes dropped to your body as it was revealed to him—bare chest, soft skin, rising and falling with every shaky breath. He leaned his mouth to your nipple, giving it a soft suck while sliding your panties down your legs, dragging his hands along your thighs as he did. Then he moved lower. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, hands spreading your thighs gently, thumbs brushing along the inside. You whimpered, body already arching at the sight of him down there, the feel of his breath ghosting over your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on your soaked center. And then he leaned in. His tongue was warm, slow, one long, deliberate lick up your folds that made your back arch off the bed. Then again, this time with more pressure, more intent. His mouth locked over your clit, sucking softly before he flattened his tongue and circled it. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling as your thighs tried to close around his head. He just groaned into you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, keeping you wide open for him. The sounds—wet, messy, sinful—filled the room along with your breathy moans, soft whimpers, the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with purpose, lapping, circling, flicking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but moan, soft and desperate, your hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. And then you felt his hand again. Sliding up the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing through your slick folds before one dipped inside you, curling instantly. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. He added a second immediately, stretching you and pumping into you while his mouth never left your clit. “Weno—fuck,” you whimpered, body jolting as he curled his fingers just right. Your walls clenched around him, needy and tight. His groan vibrated through you when he felt it. His tongue pressed harder, fingers pumping deep and slow—each drag of his knuckles making your toes curl. Your moans got higher, breathier, as your body trembled under his touch. “You close, baby?” he muttered against your clit, fingers never slowing. “Wanna feel you cum on my fuckin’ fingers.” You nodded, frantic, too far gone to speak. Your back arched, thighs shaking as he held you open, ruined you with his mouth, pushed his fingers deep inside you until the heat building in your stomach finally snapped. You came hard, legs trembling, hips stuttering, a loud moan spilling from your lips as everything clenched and pulsed around him. Fingers still working you gently through it while his tongue slowed, easing the intensity but never leaving you empty. Weno pressed one last kiss to your thigh, lips lingering as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, savoring the way your body jolted at the loss. He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes heavy as they dragged up your body.

You watched, dazed, flushed, and breathless as he reached for the waistband of his cargos, unbuttoning and sliding them down. They hit the floor with a quiet thud, leaving him in just his boxers—black, stretched tight over the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. He palmed it slowly, eyes still fixed on you, thumb pressing down over the thick outline like it ached. You squirmed beneath him, breath catching again when he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding over yours, moaning into your mouth. Then he reached between you and pushed his boxers down just enough to free himself, hissing softly when his length sprang free and brushed against your thigh. “You still good?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his thumb caressing your cheek. You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah… I want you.” That was all he needed. He reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, teasing you both with the heat of it. His hand found your waist again, grounding you as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, thick and hot and stretching you just right. You gasped, nails digging into his biceps, body arching as he filled you completely.“Fuck,” he breathed out against your mouth, kissing you again as he bottomed out. “So tight. So good.” He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you. And then he started to move.

He started slow and deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls. Your body clung to him, welcoming each stroke like it had been waiting, aching, for this exact moment. His hands moved down your sides, palms warm and firm, before sliding under your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your head falling back into the pillow as he sank even deeper. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice all breath and gravel, “So fucking perfect like this.” You whimpered, lips parting with every slow rock of his hips, every soft press of his chest to yours. One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, the other traveling to cup your breast, squeezing gently, thumb circling your nipple. “Love your body,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “Every inch. All mine now, yeah?” You could only nod, breath shaky, heart pounding. He moved again—long, deep thrusts that made your thighs tremble around him, that had you clinging tighter to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself in his touch. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, kissing your neck, “Fuck—look at how you take me.” He slid his hand down to your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you up into each thrust, letting you feel just how hard he was holding back. You cried out softly, tears blurring your vision as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside you. You felt stretched, full…loved. Every part of him was on you, in you, his lips, his hands, his voice. He slowed for just a second, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lip as he whispered, “No one’s ever made me feel like this.” You blinked, another tear slipping free. He caught it with a kiss. He pushed in deep again, groaning low as your body clenched around him. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted in a sob, overwhelmed. The pleasure, the emotion—it was too much, and not enough. You gasped out his name, voice broken, tears spilling freely now. “You’re doin’ so good,” he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So good for me. You feel so fuckin’ good—can’t get enough of you, baby.” He cupped your breast again, his other hand squeezing your ass as he rocked deeper, firmer, filling you completely with every thrust. The mattress creaked beneath you, skin slapping, breathy moans and whimpers. He lift your legs higher, folding them up toward your chest as his hands slid beneath your knees, guiding you open. His body shifted with yours, hovering close, his chest pressing to yours as he settled into the new position. You were utterly vulnerable, and so full. “Fuck,” he breathed as he pushed back in—deeper, impossibly deep, the new angle hitting something inside you that made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. Your thighs trembled against his sides, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he rocked into you again, slow and hard. His face was right above yours, eyes dark, mouth parted, breath hot on your cheek. His forehead pressed to yours. You pulled him down, fingers tangling in his hair, and kissed him hard, messy, open-mouthed, desperate. You sobbed into the kiss, the pleasure blurring everything, making your whole body feel like it was about to break apart in the best way.

He moaned against your mouth, thrusts picking up just slightly, deeper and deeper, hips pressing you into the mattress. One of his hands cradled your cheek as the other gripped under your thigh, holding you open for him while his body kept driving into yours, filling you perfectly. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw between gasps. “So good for me, baby… fuck.” Your body clenched tight around him, your moans turning into cries as your nails dug into his back. “Weno— I’m close, I—please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words through the sobs that kept catching in your throat. “I got you,” he panted, hips grinding down, pace relentless now. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” It only took another stroke. One more hit just right, and you shattered. Your second orgasm came, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently around him. You clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. “Shit—baby—fuck—” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your body pulsed around him. “So good. So fucking good.” He barely lasted another few thrusts before he was pulling out quickly, stroking himself through the last moments, his body jerking forward with a final moan as he spilled across your stomach, thick and warm. He collapsed onto his forearms above you, forehead to yours again, breath ragged, lips ghosting yours.

He was still above you, body trembling slightly as he caught his breath, his lips brushing yours in soft, lingering kisses that felt more like confessions than touches. You were trying to breathe too, heart racing, chest rising and falling as your mind spun. Every nerve in your body was still alive, aching with how full he made you feel—physically, emotionally, all of it. And yet, even in the quiet after, something heavy sat in your chest. You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting at his sides, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You could feel it pressing against your tongue—those words—so big and so terrifying, but so real. Too real to keep inside. “Weno…?” you whispered, voice barely audible. He blinked down at you, soft and hazy from the afterglow. “Yeah, baby?” Your lip trembled as you looked up at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “I… I think I’m in love with you.” The second the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. You felt exposed, like you’d stripped yourself bare in a whole new way. Your eyes filled with panic—what if he didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything? “I—I’m sorry,” you added quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—fuck, I don’t know, I just feel so much and I couldn’t keep it in and—” He cut you off with a kiss. Not a soft one, not a careful one, but deep, sure. His hand cupped your face as he leaned into you, kissing you like he needed to feel every word you’d just said on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the little tear that had escaped down your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You could never ruin anything.” Your heart fluttered painfully. “I’ve been in love with you,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Since before I even knew what to call it. You don’t scare me, baby. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.” He kissed you again, tender. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was pressed to his, skin to skin, and you could barely breathe from how tight he held you. You buried your face in his neck, arms tucked between your chests, your heart pounding against his. The silence that followed was heavy with warmth—safe, soft. Eventually, he shifted just enough to reach for the blunt on his nightstand, lighting it with a quiet flick of his lighter. The glow lit up his face in soft orange as he took a long drag, exhaling with a sigh, head tilted back slightly. You curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, ear catching the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you tighter, and his hand drifted lazily into your hair, fingers combing through the strands. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. He held you like he was never letting go.

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thewritingrowlet · 1 day ago

Text

The Uncontested Attention, ft. NMIXX Sullyoon

tags: first time

length: 13k

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The roar of the crowd is a distant hum in Jihoon's ears. He's on the free-throw line, the weight of the game resting squarely on his shoulders. This is a crucial semi-final match in the national tournament, and every point counts. He takes a deep breath, focuses on the hoop, and sinks the shot, but not before the ball rattles around the rim—quite the unnerving sight for the captain; missing a free throw in the dying embers of the game might turn out disastrous.

The cheerleading squad bursts into an energetic routine on the sidelines, a blur of motion and color. He hears Yoona's clear, bright voice leading the chants, her presence a steady, familiar beacon in the exhilarating chaos. As he backtracks towards his team’s side of the court, Jihoon catches a glimpse of her, her features beaming with pure joy. Jihoon allows himself to smile back at her, acknowledging her support and momentarily clearing space in his mind.

After the game, a hard-fought victory, the locker room is a mix of exhaustion and elation. Jihoon is toweling off when Jinsol appears, seemingly out of nowhere, her eyes sparkling with what she clearly thinks is triumph. "Oppa, you were amazing! We have to celebrate tonight. My treat." She leans in too close, her perfume filling his nostrils.

Jihoon forces a polite smile, already formulating an excuse while also wondering how she’s managed to get in the locker room. “I’m sorry, Jinsol-ah, but I’m kind of exhausted,” he replies, opting to be as honest as can be, careful to not hurt her feelings. “Are you serious, oppa?” Jinsol asks, her fists planted on her hips, her expression turning sour. “You don’t have even an hour or two for me?”

Jihoon sighs, feeling pressured both by Jinsol’s demanding presence and his teammates’ gaze, trying his best to stay calm and not say anything regrettable. “Please, let me get some rest, sweetie,” he whispers, begging her to understand, using a pet name for good measure. “Oh, erm, o-okay,” Jinsol’s cheeks turn a pink hue, getting butterflies in her stomach at the endearment, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, oppa.”

Jihoon watches Jinsol retreating, a sense of relief washing over him, quickly replaced by a weary sigh. He hates being rude, especially when someone is clearly trying to be kind, but Jinsol’s brand of affection feels more like a demand; she’s constantly seeking him, looking for ways to be close. He just wants some space, especially now, with the national final looming. He glances at his teammates, some still laughing, others already heading for the showers. Jihoon wants to escape the locker room, find a moment of peace.

Looking for some fresh air, Jihoon heads out of the locker room, dragging his tired, aching legs to find somewhere to sit, and his choice lands on a bench under the lights. “Ugh.” He grunts as his butt settles on the cold steel bars of the bench. It’s not the most comfortable, but this will do for now.

As he closes his eyes to relax, a commotion is heard nearby. When Jihoon opens his eyes again, his gaze lands on Yoona, following behind her the rest of the cheerleading squad. She stops in her tracks and gives him a small nod, immediately looking away after, her cheeks starting to burn from shyness. He chuckles a little, amused by her little gesture, and that chuckle grows into a laugh when some other cheerleaders start teasing Yoona for it.

“I think you guys should leave her alone,” Jihoon says, his voice gentle with no trace of anger, trying to save Yoona from further embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I think you guys should start dating,” one of the girls manages to counter, causing Jihoon to regret intervening.

Jihoon's ears burn, a blush creeping up his neck. "Hey!" he calls out, though his voice lacks any real bite. The cheerleaders just giggle, high fiving each other as they walk away, leaving Yoona still standing there, face a deep crimson. She avoids his gaze, fiddling with the pom-poms in her hands as if they hold all the secrets of the universe. He feels a strange mixture of embarrassment and... something else. An unexpected flutter in his chest. Dating Yoona? The thought is foreign, yet not entirely unpleasant. He's never really considered her in that way, not seriously.

Jihoon rises from the bench, slowly approaching the girl who is rooted to the spot. "Don't listen to them," he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice feels a little too loud in the sudden quiet. "People say stupid things sometimes. There's no reason to be embarrassed." He clears his throat, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness from the cheerleader’s comment. “My name is Min Jihoon. Can I ask what yours is?”

Yoona finally looks up, her eyes wide, still shy but meeting his. Her nervousness is endearing. He realizes he's never truly looked at her like this before, not really taken in her bright eyes and the way her hair catches the lights of this little park. “I-it’s Yoona. Seol Yoona,” she answers, her whispered voice barely heard. “N-nice seeing you, s-senior.” A warm smile blooms on Jihoon’s face, a similar sense of warmth rising within. “Please, it’s just Jihoon-ie. If you want, you can call me ‘oppa’ instead.”

Yoona's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing even deeper at the suggestion of calling him by “oppa” or even his name. She bites her lip, a shy smile finally breaking through her embarrassment. "Okay... oppa," she manages, testing the name on her lips. The moment stretches, filled with unspoken questions and a newfound awareness. Jihoon finds himself drawn to her quiet vulnerability, a stark contrast to the demanding attention he usually receives. He feels an unexpected urge to protect that shyness, to keep this moment separate from the noise of the tournament.

“Hey, erm, you’re coming next weekend, right?” Jihoon asks, the words leaving his lips before he can think. “I mean, with the rest of the cheerleading team, of course.” Yoona nods, clutching her pom-poms to her chest. “Yes, I am. Erm, there will be a new routine for the finals.” Her voice is still soft, but there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes at the new routine. Jihoon smiles again, genuinely. He realizes he's completely forgotten about Jinsol, about the lingering stress of the game. For the first time all day, his mind feels truly clear, focused only on the girl in front of him. "Good luck with your routine, Yoona-yah. I'll be watching."

A soft blush blooms on Yoona's cheeks at his use of "Yoona-yah.” The way he says it in that calm, steady tone feels rather tender. "Thank you, oppa," she murmurs, her gaze still fixed on him, a quiet warmth emanating from her. The air between them hums, thick with unspoken possibilities. Jihoon finds himself wanting to extend the moment, to simply bask in her serene yet alluring presence. The fatigue in his legs seems to lessen, replaced by a light, hopeful energy. He realizes he's rarely felt this centered, this... simply good.

"I… I should head back to the dorms," Yoona says, finally looking away, her eyes briefly scanning the area around them. "It's getting late." A small pang of disappointment registers in Jihoon's chest. "Right," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "Get some good rest." He watches her as she turns, her steps quick and light as she moves in the other direction. “I’ll see you around, sweetie,” he mutters, his low voice making him confident that he won’t be heard.

Upon arriving at her room, Yoona slams the door behind her, the thud echoing through the quiet hallway. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she chants frantically, her chest rising and falling rapidly, still unable to shake off the shock from meeting Jihoon. “What… what just happened?” she asks herself, the furniture in her room offering no clarity.

Yoona jumps onto the mattress, landing on her belly, not concerned about changing out of her cheerleader uniform. “Aaaaah!” she whines, her pillow muffling the sound. “Seol Yoona, you are out of your mind, talking to the captain like that,” she bashes herself, rambling nonsense as her mind races with possibilities. Future encounters, ones where they might actually be open with each other.

Yoona kicks her legs in the air, a giddy laugh bubbling up from her chest, quickly stifled by her hand. "He called me 'Yoona-yah'!" she squeals silently. The tenderness in his voice, the way he looked at her—it was all so much more than she ever dared to dream. She needs to write this down, capture every detail before it fades. She scrambles off the bed, rummaging through her backpack, searching for a small journal bound in a soft, navy-blue cover. This is where her deepest hopes and most embarrassing confessions live.

She clutches it to her chest for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle, before flipping to a fresh page. Her pen hovers for a second, then dances across the paper. “June 1st,” she begins. “The day I actually talked to oppa.” Yoona doesn’t bother writing down his name, her heart already feeling very comfortable about him. “HIS SMILE!” Yoona writes in all uppercase, punctuating the lasting impression with an exclamation mark, her writing untidy because of the giddiness flowing through her.

Yoona’s pen flies across the page, recounting every detail of their brief interaction, filling the page with every little detail she's picked up. It's exhilarating and terrifying, putting these profound feelings into concrete words, etched in a physical medium, making them feel undeniably real. She can't believe it actually happened. Jihoon, the basketball captain, the one everyone looks up to, actually engaged her in a real conversation, a connection far deeper than she'd ever dared to dream.

As Yoona writes, a new determination stirs in her, her mind coming up with ways to get close to him, to get his attention, even if it’s fleeting. “I can use those,” she thinks, her gaze locked on the stack of sticky notes before her. “I can just… leave him notes…” she mumbles.

Yoona picks up a sticky note, her thumb rubbing against its smooth surface. Anonymity is the name of the game. It allows her to say what she's too shy to express face-to-face, to offer the kind of genuine support she knows he needs without making him uncomfortable. He's been distracted by Jinsol, oblivious to the deeper connection he might be craving. Yoona closes her eyes, picturing his face, the subtle lines of stress she'd noticed even through his post-game smile.

“Oppa,” she pens, letting her hand be led by her heart. “I know how hard you work for us, but please stay safe and don’t get injured. I’m rooting for you.” Yoona falls silent as she finishes writing, the radiance dissipating from her face as she feels the pull of something deeper. “Oppa…” she mutters softly. “Please win. For us and everyone who believes in you. I know you can do it.”

Yoona reads the note once more, her fingers tracing the neat, heartfelt script. It's more personal than anything she’s ever done before, imbued with a new kind of urgency. She folds it carefully, tucking it into a small, decorative envelope she keeps for special occasions.

Tomorrow, she'll find the perfect moment. She knows his routine: early morning shots at the gym. She can slip it into his bag or maybe tuck it under his water bottle while pretending to do something else. A nervous excitement flutters in her stomach, pushing away the earlier giddiness. This isn't just a crush anymore; it's a profound wish, a silent promise.

Yoona finally rises from her chair. Her earlier uniform forgotten, she slips into something more comfortable for bed, but sleep feels distant. She climbs back under the covers, but sleep feels distant. As she lies on her side, her stare remains fixed at the note she’s prepared, a fond smile playing on her lips from imagining his reaction to it. She hopes that he will feel the sincerity in the words, the true meaning of the gesture. Tomorrow, when he reads it, she will still be a cheerleader, practicing the new routine for the grand finals, but after that, Jihoon will know that someone is cheering him on from his corner.

Yoona approaches the arena carefully, her light steps betraying the heavy pounds of her heart. Pushing the glass door, her ears pick up some familiar noises: the squeaks from shoes that skid against the court, mixed with the subtle thuds from a bouncing basketball. She peeks around a corner, and there he is, pacing along the width of the court, his fingers controlling the ball with ease as if attached to strings.

Yoona watches on as Jihoon stands just beyond the three-point line, his eyes locked on the rim before him. Suddenly, with an explosive burst of energy, he sprints towards it, dribbling the ball with focused intensity. When Jihoon gets close enough, he lifts the ball, letting it bounce softly against the glass backboard—but he misses.

When he turns around, Yoona sees the frown on his face, his own mind admonishing him for his failure to perform a supposedly simple task: to score from that close of a range. Her heart clenches as she starts to grasp the kind of pressure that’s he’s carrying on his shoulders.

Jihoon sighs, running a hand through his damp hair. He retrieves the ball, bouncing it once, twice, then sends it arching towards the hoop again. This time, it swishes cleanly through the net. He nods, but the frown lingers, a testament to his own high expectations. Yoona watches, her resolve firming. This is why he needs her note. She takes a silent breath, pulling the decorative envelope from her pocket. Jihoon heads towards the water cooler, briefly setting the ball down by his gym bag on the sidelines.

This is her chance. Her heart pounds a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but her steps are light, almost soundless, on the polished court. She moves with the practiced stealth of a cheerleader during a surprise routine, gliding towards the sidelines. In a swift, practiced motion, she kneels by his bag, slipping the note inside before he even turns from the cooler. She rises just as quietly, her gaze sweeping the empty gym, and then, with a final, quick glance at Jihoon's back, she sprints away before—a voice, sharp and sudden, cuts through the echoing gym.

“Who is that?”

Yoona’s legs lock, coming to a dead stop. She is stunned by his voice, unable to take even one step away from him. “I-it’s me, oppa. S-Seol Yoona,” she mumbles, not daring to turn around to face him, her stare stuck on the floor. Jihoon drops the ball, letting it roll away, wiping off most of his sweat to make himself presentable. He stops closely behind her, towering over her petite frame. “You’re not even facing me. Is that how you speak to your senior, Seol Yoona?” he asks, his voice gaining quite the sharp edge, a contrast to last night's.

Mustering up the courage, Yoona turns around but still can’t look him in the eyes, her body trembling slightly with fear. “I’m so sorry, Yoona-yah,” he takes a few steps closer towards her, getting down on one knee to get on her eye level, “did I scare you? Was I being too mean?” She manages to shake her head, hiding her shaken heart behind it. “Please forgive me, Yoona-yah. I was just… frustrated.” He pauses, gauging her reaction to his apology. “I mean, that’s no reason to be mean, but please understand where I’m coming from.”

Yoona offers another hesitant shake of her head, still unable to meet his eyes, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Even with him kneeling, his presence feels immense, dominating the quiet space. He's so close, she can smell the lingering scent of his sweat, clean and sharp, mixed with a faint hint of his body wash. The note, now tucked away in his bag, feels like a live wire, burning a hole through the fabric. Did he see? Does he know? The questions scream inside her head, but she can't find her voice.

Jihoon watches her, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. He reaches out a hand, hesitates, then gently brushes it against hers. "Yoona-yah, really, it's okay. I didn't mean to snap. Just... rough practice." He pauses again, his gaze drifting from her downcast face towards his gym bag, then back to her. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "What are you doing here, anyway? Do you have practice too?" The question hangs in the air, innocent on the surface, yet loaded with unspoken implications.

“I just wanted to see you, oppa,” she answers, not mincing her words. “I… I wanted to see you,” she repeats, this time in a whispered, low tone. Her entire body flushes, burning hot with a potent mix of embarrassment and excitement. “You wanted to see me?” Jihoon confirms, his tone taking on a similar soft tone. “I’m honored, Yoona-yah. Thank you,” he adds.

Jihoon rises slowly, his gaze still soft, but a flicker of something new—intrigue, perhaps—dances in his eyes. Yoona keeps her eyes fixed on his chest, her cheeks still burning. The weight of his acknowledgment feels both overwhelming and deeply gratifying. She curses her own impulsive words, yet a part of her is also relieved they're finally out. She braces herself for what he might say next, a knot tightening in her stomach.

“Yoona-yah, please listen to me,” he says. Yoona lifts her chin, ready to listen intently, her glassy eyes meeting his. “Thank you for the support, seriously, but… Bae Jinsol won’t take this kindly, and I don’t want to put you in the crossfire.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes, expecting to hear a rejection from the man she admires so. “Oh, sweetie, please don’t,” he hurries before tears begin flowing down her cheeks. “I’m not shutting you out, I promise, but let me figure things out with Jinsol-ie first.”

Yoona swallows hard, the tears receding, replaced by a fresh surge of embarrassment and a quiet understanding. He's not rejecting her, but he's acknowledging the complicated mess Jinsol represents. It's almost worse, knowing he cares enough to protect her from that. "Okay," she murmurs, the word barely audible.

Jihoon reaches out, his fingers hovering over her wrist. "Are you heading back to the dorms now?" he asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if gauging her reaction. "It's still pretty dark. I could walk you back?" His offer is a lifeline, a gentle invitation to extend this charged moment, despite the unspoken barrier. Yoona nods, her lips curving into a small smile. The path forward feels clearer, yet also far more difficult than she'd ever imagined. “Yes, oppa. Please walk with me,” she says.

Jihoon's hand lightly takes her arm, and he steers her gently towards the wide glass doors of the gym. The cool air outside is a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the court, but Yoona barely notices. Her focus is entirely on the man beside her, his presence a comforting anchor. They walk in silence, the rhythm of their footsteps echoing faintly on the deserted pathways. Yoona glances at him from the corner of her eye. He looks tired, the subtle lines of strain still etched around his eyes despite the victory. The urge to help him, to truly be his support, swells within her.

“Oppa…” she calls to him, her tone gentle and careful. “Are you okay? Is there any way I can help?” Jihoon offers a small, tight smile, hiding the depths of his burdens. “I’m okay, Yoona-yah. Just a bit tired and stressed, but that’s nothing new to me.” Yoona sighs, wishing he would open to her more, let her look into his life just a bit more, but her heart insists: such a time will come eventually. “Okay,” she concedes. “But… but please know that I’m here for you, oppa.”

Jihoon nods, his gaze softening further. "I know, sweetie," he replies, the endearment slipping through his lips, his voice carrying a warmth that makes her heart flutter. "I appreciate that, really." His thumb lightly brushes against her arm where his hand rests. It's a small gesture, but to Yoona, it feels monumental, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort she offers. The early morning chill seems less biting now, replaced by the warmth emanating from his touch.

Reaching the big intersection, Jihoon stops, turning towards Yoona, his towering presence more comforting than intimidating. “Yes, oppa? Is everything okay?” she asks, unsure as to why they have stopped here and now. “Seol Yoona, I…” he sighs, the cool air making his breath visible, “I don’t know, I just want to… be with you just a bit more.”

Yoona stares at him, her mind struggling to process his words. "Be with me... just a bit more?" The question hangs in the air, fragile and precious. A slow, undeniable smile spreads across her face, mirroring the hope she sees in his eyes. Her cheeks flush, but this time it's from pure, exhilarating joy. "Okay, oppa," she breathes, a soft confirmation of agreement. "Why don’t we take a seat somewhere and, you know, be with each other just a bit more?"

Jihoon’s shoulders drop, the tension releasing from his body, as Yoona leads him towards a nearby bench, the steel bars cold from the early morning breeze. His gaze drifts to the right, taking in the sight of the female dorm buildings that are standing strong despite their age. “You know, I’ve actually never been to the girls’ dorms,” he admits. Her eyebrows furrow: there’s no way he’s never been there. “You can’t be serious,” she protests. He chuckles, not taking any offense from her counter. “I mean, I’ve never dated anyone in university, so I basically have zero reason to go there.”

Yoona's eyebrows remain furrowed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, you've just been... focusing on basketball?" she asks, a genuine curiosity woven in her tone. It's a stark contrast to her own life, where cheerleading is important, but there's still room for friends, for quiet moments, for crushes. Jihoon nods, his gaze fixed on the dorms. "Pretty much. No time for anything else, really." He gestures vaguely, as if explaining a complex play. "It's all consuming. Especially with the finals coming up."

A quiet hum settles between them. Yoona realizes that despite his popularity and his obvious talent, there's a part of him that's incredibly innocent, perhaps even a little lonely, in his relentless pursuit of the game. He's never experienced the awkwardness or the thrill of young love. This thought sparks gentle protectiveness in her. "I’m… willing to take a chance with you, oppa.”

Jihoon turns his head slowly, his gaze shifting from the distant dorms to Yoona's face. Her words hang in the cool morning air, clear and utterly unexpected. His eyes, usually so focused on the court, are wide, reflecting a mix of shock and a dawning comprehension. The easy rhythm of their walk, the comfortable silence, all of it shatters under the weight of her declaration.

“Seol Yoona…” he says her name in this tranquilizing tone. “Look at me, please.” Following his request, Yoona turns her head towards him, holding his gaze despite her burning cheeks. “Are you serious about that? About giving me a chance?” he asks, his eyes searching for signs of dishonesty but finding only the truth. “Yes, but there’s a condition,” she says. “I don’t want to see you hang out with Bae Jinsol.”

Jihoon blinks, processing her words, a subtle shift in his posture suggesting he's moved from surprise to problem-solving mode. He sighs, running a hand through his damp hair. "Bae Jinsol," he murmurs, more to himself than to Yoona. "She's... persistent." He looks back at Yoona, a hint of a wry smile touching his lips. "It won't be easy, Yoona-yah. She's not exactly subtle when she wants something." He pauses, his gaze locking with hers, a serious, determined glint in his eyes. "You're right, though. That's a fair condition."

A wave of relief washes over Yoona, making her almost dizzy. He understands. He's not dismissing her; he's simply acknowledging the difficulty. "So... you'll do it?" she asks, her voice a hopeful whisper. Jihoon nods, a firm, decisive motion. "I will," he promises, his voice low and steady. "Just... give me a little time, sweetheart. I’ll figure it out. For us."

Yoona nods, a slow, happy nod that reflects the profound relief settling in her chest. The early morning chill, which had seemed so sharp just moments ago, now feels irrelevant, replaced by the warmth that blooms from Jihoon's promise. “Thank you, oppa, and I like it when you call me sweetheart.” Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head out of amusement. “I mean, your heart is indeed sweet—ow, what’s that for?” He rubs the spot on his thigh where her fist landed, playing up his reactions. “You’re going to give me diabetes, Min Jihoon,” she quips, her voice laced with playful annoyance.

Jihoon rises from the bench, his relaxed shoulders a proof of his lessening stress. “Come, baby. Let’s get you indoors.” He opens his palm, offering it for Yoona to hold. With a big smile, she takes his hand, her fingers wrapping tightly around his. “Yes, please.”

After the gentle slope of the brick path, they reach the steps to her dorm building. Jihoon stops, still holding her wrist. "I'll see you soon, Yoona-yah," he says, his voice softer now, the teasing gone, replaced by a quiet earnestness. “By then, I hope I will have cut ties with Jinsol-ie.” His thumb brushes gently against her pulse point, adding weight to his promise. Yoona's heart thumps. "See you, oppa, and please be kind to Jinsol-ie" she replies, her voice barely a whisper, already anticipating their next encounter, a future that feels suddenly, beautifully, real.

The last day of practice before the finals is here, and according to the wind carrying the rumors, the cheerleading team will be practicing their new routine at the other basketball court, next to the court in which Jihoon’s team will be practicing.

Jihoon stretches at the edge of his team's court, his muscles already protesting the rigorous practice ahead. “Oh, God,” he grunts, bending his back too far backwards, his joints making these popping sounds. As he stretches other parts of his body, music with uplifting, fast beats begin filling the area, the cheerleading girls moving around to find their practiced spots.

“Look,” Siwoo nudges Jihoon’s elbow, “the girl wearing 26 is cute, no?” Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow; 26 is Yoona’s number. “Why, you like her or something?” he asks, covering his irritation with a question. “I mean, who doesn’t?” Siwoo shrugs, thinking it’s simply a fact that Yoona is crush material. “Don’t let me catch you drooling over 26, Siwoo-yah,” Jihoon threatens, the weight of his words not truly reaching Siwoo, who is thinking it’s a normal banter.

Jihoon glares at Siwoo's retreating back, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “No one is drooling over Yoona but me—that’s my Yoona”, he thinks, the possessive thought surprising even himself. His eyes instinctively drift to the adjacent court, finding Yoona among the blur of motion. She's at the front, leading the complex movements, her focus absolute. The new routine is indeed intricate, demanding. He watches her, completely absorbed, warmth spreading through him that makes him forget the protesting muscles and the impending rigorous practice.

The sound of Coach Kang’s whistle breaks his concentration. “Come on, let’s get this started already,” he shouts. Jihoon snaps his attention back to his own team, but the image of Yoona, graceful and vibrant, remains etched in his mind. “Captain, stop ogling those girls, will you?” Jihoon clicks his tongue and shakes his head, downplaying his interest in front of his coach.

Jihoon throws himself into the drills with renewed fervor, the basketball a familiar extension of his will. Unlike other practices, however, his focus isn't solely on the rim or facing the opposing team. Every explosive sprint, every precise pass, every powerful jump feels infused with a new, quiet purpose. He knows Yoona is just meters away, and the thought of her watching, or perhaps even glancing, adds a subtle fire to his movements. He can still hear the faint, rhythmic pulse of the cheerleading music, a comforting counterpoint to the squeak of his shoes.

He pushes himself harder, imagining her new routine, the dedication it must take, comparing her struggles with his own. He promised her he'd figure things out with Jinsol. Watching her now, so full of grace and determination, only solidifies his resolve. This upcoming final isn’t just about the championship anymore; it is about laying the groundwork for them. He glances quickly towards the adjacent court during a water break, catching a glimpse of her laughing with a teammate, and a genuine smile, unbidden, touches his lips.

As he puts down his bottle, Jihoon catches a familiar figure sitting in the empty stands: Bae Jinsol. “Oh, hell no,” he thinks, staring at her blankly. Thinking he’s excited to see her, Jinsol waves at him, grinning ear to ear, seemingly excited to have him notice her presence. Jihoon offers her a small nod, not wanting to be caught reacting too much when Yoona is just meters away from him.

Jinsol rises to her feet, waving at Jihoon with more fervor. “He must be shy around his teammates,” she thinks, clueless to the actual reason of his reservations. Jihoon gives her one last smile before turning around, redirecting his focus back on the practice. As she settles in her seat again, Jinsol’s heart soars with pride, as if she just claimed him before this crowd. On the other hand, Yoona, who has been watching Jinsol’s antics, can only wipe her glassy eyes before the tears spill out.

Yoona quickly turns her head, pretending to adjust her hair, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the gym floor. She blinks rapidly, trying to force the tears back, a bitter lump forming in her throat. “He promised,” she thinks, clinging to the memory of his quiet words on the bench, but seeing Jinsol's brazen claim, Jihoon's subtle nod, and her own hidden tears, the promise feels fragile, easily broken under the harsh light of public display. Her stomach churns with a mix of despair and a fierce, unfamiliar anger. The new routine suddenly feels meaningless, her dedication hollow. All she can do is bite her lip, trying to hold back the sob that threatens to escape.

“Don’t betray me now, my love.”

Yoona forces her head back up, her jaw clenched tight. The music for their routine swells again, the familiar upbeat tempo now feeling like a mocking echo of her own internal turmoil. She blinks once, twice, forcing back the burning wetness from her eyes, and takes her place, ready for the next sequence. Her movements are stiff at first, mechanical, lacking the usual grace. Every synchronized step, every energetic jump, feels like a performance she's putting on for herself, a desperate attempt to ignore the ache in her chest. She glances over at Jihoon's court, but he's a blur of motion, absorbed in his own practice, seemingly oblivious. “He can't betray me,” she repeats, a silent, desperate mantra, pushing through the routine with a newfound, rigid determination.

The minutes fly by, and now, both Jihoon and Yoona are finished with their practices. Jihoon sits down in the middle of the court, leaning backwards and supporting himself with his arms, his legs let straight. Across him, Yoona also sits in the middle of the court, albeit a bit hidden by one of her teammates—Jihoon can only see her face, not the rest of her body. He notices that she’s glaring at him, her burning gaze drilling a hole between his eyes. As an attempt to defuse the situation, Jihoon offers her a tentative smile, hoping that she will calm down.

Jihoon's smile falters under the unwavering intensity of Yoona's glare. It's not just frustration; it's betrayal, raw and painful. He realizes, with a cold jolt, that she must have seen Jinsol, must have misinterpreted his subtle nod. "Oh, hell no." The thought from earlier reverberates in his mind, now tinged with acute regret. He glances quickly towards Jinsol, who is still beaming from the stands, oblivious. He needs to fix this, and fast.

He pushes himself up, his muscles stiff, but his mind is racing. This isn't just about his promise anymore; it's about the trust he's already inadvertently broken. Yoona's gaze never leaves him, a silent, burning challenge. He knows he can't approach her now, not with Jinsol watching. He has to handle the immediate problem. He takes a deep breath, his decision firm, and with a determined set to his jaw, he heads straight for the stands, ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates.

“Can we talk, Jinsol-ah?” he whispers to Jinsol, urgency lying beneath his question. “Depends,” she says. “Do I or do I not have your attention?” Jihoon exhales deeply, trying to stay calm in front of the difficult girl. “Please, sweetie. Let’s… head somewhere else and talk.” She smirks, satisfied with both the pet name and his soft demand. “Aww, okay. Let’s head out for a bit, yeah?”

Jihoon nods, his jaw still tight, and gestures towards the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, a place where they can have more privacy. Jinsol's smirk widens, and she playfully grabs his arm, a move that makes him inwardly flinch. As they walk away, Jihoon risks a quick glance towards Yoona's court. Yoona is still there, her head now turned away, her posture rigid. He knows she saw—she must have. A fresh wave of urgency washes over him. This conversation with Jinsol will not be easy, but he has to make it clear, once and for all, where he stands at this crossroads of attention.

Meanwhile, back on the cheerleading court, Yoona's eyes burn with unshed tears. She sees them walk away, Jinsol clinging to his arm. It is everything she fears. The promise, about him cutting ties with Jinsol, from this morning feels like a cruel joke now, a false hope offered. She bites her lip, trying to steady her breathing. The new routine, the finals, everything feels overshadowed by this sharp, sudden pain of perceived betrayal. All she can do is hope that Jihoon is indeed "figuring things out" and not just playing into Jinsol's hands.

Jinsol pulls Jihoon towards a curve at the far end of the sports complex, the pillars providing privacy for the pair. He quickly frees his wrist from her grip, not wanting to make physical contact more than needed. “What's wrong, oppa? You look so stressed,” Jinsol wonders, noticing his perceived odd behavior.

Jihoon takes one step forward, closing the distance without being too close. “Look, Jinsol-ah. I appreciate your support for me and the team, but… it's starting to feel…” He trails off momentarily, unable to find the correct word for it. “I don't know, it's distracting, I guess.” Her eyebrows furrow, the joy melting away from her face, her heart flinching with hurt at his choice of adjective. “What is that supposed to mean, oppa?” she protests, her voice laced with irritation. “Just get to the point, please: are you going out with someone else and looking to leave me?”

Jihoon sighs, but unlike when he was with Yoona, it's not out of relief. Rather, it is a product of his tension that is growing heavy. “Sweetheart, please,” he murmurs, hoping that the pet name will reach the soft spot in her heart. “There isn't no one else right now. It's just that I need to focus on the finals, and as much as I'm honored to have your support, I can't afford to be distracted.”

Jinsol's lower lip trembles, and her eyes, which moments ago were sharp, now fill with a wounded glint. "Distracted?" she whispers, her voice quivering, as if deeply hurt. She shakes her head slowly, a tear welling up and tracing a path down her cheek. "I thought... I thought we had something special, oppa. After all this time, all my efforts... you're just going to throw it away because of a game?" She reaches out, her hand gently touching his arm, her gaze pleading. "Don't you care about—mmph…”

Before Jinsol manages to finish her pushing sentence, Jihoon interrupts her, stifling her lips with… with his. She melts into him, reactively putting her hands on his chest, but he's quick to break away. “I'm sorry, but this is for the best. Please remember me by the taste of my lips,” he says, his voice deep with a sense of finality, of closure. “I’ll go back to practice now, and please, go find something else to do. I'm begging you, Jinsol-ah.”

Jinsol falls onto the floor, covering her mouth as sobs begin to flood out, deeply struck by his rejection. The kiss did very little in terms of providing comfort, but it was certainly final. “Oppa…” she mutters between sobs. As her cries grow, Jinsol leans against the pillar, hugging her legs in a ball. “Please don't forget about me,” she pleads.

Heading back inside the gym, Jihoon rushes towards the other court, his steps thumping against the smooth surface. “Where is Seol Yoona?” he asks the crowd of cheerleaders. Surprised by his sudden appearance and demanding voice, one of them simply points at the restroom. “Great. Thank you,” Jihoon says with no tenderness in his tone.

Jihoon turns to make his way towards the restroom, unwavered by the thought of possibly having to enter the female’s section. As luck would have it, however, Yoona is walking out. Her fresh makeup gives him the idea that she likely just finished crying and re-applied it.

Yoona gasps as her gaze lands on him. “Hi there,” he says. “We need to talk.” Unable to say anything else, she simply nods, walking behind Jihoon as he leads her away from the gym.

Jihoon leads Yoona down a quiet corridor, away from the echoing sounds of the gym, stopping at a secluded alcove near a rarely used exit. He turns to face her, his gaze intense. The earlier brusqueness in his demeanor fades, replaced by a deep concern as he sees the lingering hurt in her eyes.

"Yoona-yah," he begins, his voice softening, a stark contrast to moments before. "I saw you. I saw you watching us, and I know what it must have looked like." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "But you have to believe me, it's not what you think. I wasn't... I wasn't trying to be with her. I was cutting ties. Just like I promised you this morning, and I have done exactly that." He searches her face for any sign of understanding, any flicker of the trust they built hours ago.

Yoona’s stare towards the ground, his purple shoes suddenly very attractive. “But… you were kind to her, right?” she asks, more concerned about Jinsol than herself. “What did you say to her, oppa?” Jihoon closes his eyes, the taste of Jinsol’s lips still lingering on his. “I said I couldn't afford to be distracted,” he answers.

“Distracted…” she echoes. “What about me? Am I not distracting you?” Jihoon shakes his head, firm in his stance about her presence in this trying time. “No, you're not. I mean, you never demand my attention, do you, dear?” he answers.

Yoona finally lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting his. The lingering hurt is still there, but a flicker of something else—hope, perhaps—begins to fight through it. "So… you really meant it?" she whispers, her voice fragile. "About… us?"

Jihoon reaches out, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "Every word, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low, earnest rumble. "Especially the part about you."

Yoona nods, her resolve gaining strength again, her cheek rubbing against his palm, and that's when Jihoon quickly removes his hand. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” he exclaims, only remembering that his hand is dirty after touching basketballs for so long. “Oh, no, your face is dirty, baby,” he adds, guilt rising within him for ruining her fresh makeup. She giggles, smacking his arm lightly. Not out of anger, of course; just… playful frustration. “Don't worry about it, oppa. If anything, that's proof of my belonging to you.”

Settling in the front seat of the bus as usual, Jihoon puts on his headphones, tuning in to some piano to clear his mind before the final game. This game means much, much more to him; not only is this his final season as a collegiate player, but he now has Yoona. It is her that has been steadfast by his side, offering comfort and affirmation when he needs them most, a steady beacon for him to cling to.

Leaning against the window with his eyes closed, he doesn’t catch Yoona slipping into the empty seat next to him, taking her rightful spot. “Oppa,” she pokes his shoulder, a grin spreading across her face, “I’m here too, you know.” Seeing the beautiful smile of hers warms Jihoon’s heart, prompting him to smile. “I can see that, sweetie,” he says, his hand snaking around her waist, pulling her close. It’s no secret that the cheerleading team always travels together with the basketball team, but now that they’re more than strangers, it matters more.

Yoona settles comfortably into his side, nestling her head against his shoulder. The soft piano music from his headphones is a gentle hum against her ear, creating a private bubble around them amidst the low chatter of their teammates. "Nervous, oppa?" she whispers, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his arm.

Jihoon nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. He shifts slightly, pulling her even closer. "A little," he admits, his voice low. "But in a good way. Like everything's leading up to this, and... now that you're here, it feels different." He squeezes her gently. "Are you ready for your new routine?" His question is soft, filled with genuine interest, reminding her that his attention is fully on her now, even as the biggest game of his life awaits. Yoona nods against his shoulder, drawing strength from his solid presence. “Yes, and I’m going to make sure you don’t have anyone else to watch but me,” she replies, radiating the confidence that Jihoon loves the most.

The bus starts to roll, and the cabin is filled with the soft rumble of its engine. Jihoon takes a deep breath, collecting himself for the upcoming game, his arm tightening around Yoona’s body. She follows afterwards, taking a deep breath to steel herself before the grand performance, her body melting into him more, seeking comfort that only he can provide. Jihoon takes off his headphones, placing them over Yoona’s ears to help her relax. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.” Yoona hums softly, her eyes closing as she drifts to dreamland.

The rhythmic sway of the bus and the comforting warmth of Jihoon's arm around her pull Yoona deeper into sleep. It feels like moments later when a gentle tap rouses her. "We're here, sweetheart," Jihoon's murmurs, soft as the piano music that lulled her to sleep. Yoona blinks her eyes open, feeling refreshed, and straightens up as the bus comes to a complete stop. She glances at Jihoon, whose gaze is already fixed on the massive arena looming outside the window, a blend of intense focus and quiet anticipation on his face.

“Oppa…” she calls to him softly, her gaze following his, taking in the sight of the arena. “We’re going to be okay, right?” Jihoon turns his face towards her, looking at her with a tranquilizing expression. “Yes, we are. I’m going to give this everything I have. For you, and for me.” Yoona presses a gentle peck on his cheek, her heart filled with warmth that is most welcome. "For us, oppa.”

Players and cheerleaders get off the bus in a line, immediately met with a bunch of cameras that are aimed at them, the reality of the national grand final settling in the heart of each person. “It’s called a ‘grand final’ for a reason,” Jihoon thinks, somewhat familiar with the exposure that comes with it. Yoona’s close proximity to him makes him want to hold her hand as they walk towards the arena but doing so before these cameras might do more harm than good.

Jihoon's hand aches with the unspoken desire to reach for hers, but he keeps his arms stiffly at his sides, his jaw tight. He maintains a calm, focused expression for the cameras, accustomed to this kind of scrutiny. Beside him, Yoona walks with a quiet grace, her eyes forward, her steps in perfect sync with his, as if they're still moving as one, even without physical touch. He can sense her awareness of his proximity, a silent understanding passing between them that this public restraint is necessary, for now. The flashes of light, the murmuring crowd, and the sharp questions from reporters attempting to break through the security line are a dizzying blur, but he navigates it all with a singular focus: getting them both safely inside the arena, where their private world could re-establish itself.

After settling their things in the locker room, the players and cheerleaders gather, forming a big circle in the center of it. “Guys, listen to me, please,” Jihoon starts, taking point as both the captain and the senior. “First of all, please remember to stay safe at all times, and I’m talking about you girls,” he adds, his index finger tracing a line across the row of cheerleaders. Yoona bites her bottom lip to stop herself from blushing; even if his attention isn’t focused on her, being addressed by him as a part of a crowd still gives her the butterflies.

"And to my team," Jihoon continues, his gaze sweeping over the basketball players, his voice firming. "We’re here as champions, and everyone has been gunning for us, giving us a run for our money, but we came out on top every single time. So, let's come out on top one last fucking time." He pauses, letting his words sink in, then his gaze softens slightly as he looks back at the cheerleaders. "We couldn't do this without your energy and support. So, let's go out there and show them what we're made of. All of us." A unified roar of agreement ripples through the circle, a powerful surge of collective determination. “Win on three. One, two, three, win!”

The unified roar reverberated off the locker room walls, a tangible wave of shared adrenaline. Jihoon's eyes met Yoona's across the circle, a silent acknowledgment passing between them—a flash of their private promise amidst the collective energy. Then, the huddle breaks, each person taking a spot to form two lines to head out together. With a subtle tilt of head, Jihoon gestures to Yoona to stand at the end of their respective queue.

An event coordinator signals to the cheerleaders to head out first, and as the line begins to move, Yoona gives him one last squeeze of hand, an unspoken promise that she’ll be there, pouring everything she has into supporting him, and by extension, the basketball team. Jihoon watches as she walks away from him, hypnotized by her wiggling ponytail, smiling like a fool in love. Well, he is a fool in love.

Soon, the same coordinator gives the signal for Jihoon’s team to enter the arena, but as he steps closer towards the end of the tunnel, he is stopped. “Captains enter last—you know, for the TV,” he says. Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “It wasn’t like this last year,” he quips. The coordinator chuckles with him. “We’re trying out new things each year, captain.”

The arena announcer’s voice grows louder, more excited, as he calls for the captains of each team to come out. “I guess that’s my cue.” Jihoon straightens his posture, fixing the jacket hanging on his shoulders, only hanging by a small rope connecting each end of the collar. He gets a few taps on his shoulder, confirming that it’s time for him to walk out of the dark tunnel and into the brightly lit court.

Jihoon walks out at the same time as the other team’s captain and a fellow senior, Park Taehyun, offering a nod to acknowledge his presence, the crowd bursting into energetic screams at the sight of the two. As he joins his team, Jihoon’s gaze roams the stands, indicating to those present that he acknowledges their overwhelming presence, offering smiles and nods where he can.

Jihoon's eyes finally land on the cheerleading section, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he spots Yoona. Her bright smile and energetic waves are unmistakable for him, and he feels a subtle surge of confidence that has nothing to do with the roar of the crowd. He gives her a quick, almost imperceptible nod and a private, genuine smile before turning his full attention to the center court. The referee blows the whistle, signaling the start of the coin toss, and the anticipation in the arena becomes a tangible force, ready to erupt with the game's first play.

Jihoon’s team win the tip-off thanks to the center’s quick reaction. The ball gets passed to him right away, music resembling a countdown playing over the speakers as he navigates across the court, the bouncing ball an extension of his controlled will. His calculated passes cause chaos in the defense, creating separation all over the floor. Eventually, the ball finds its way back to Jihoon, right as he’s closing in towards the hoop, and with practiced movement, he scores the first basket of the game, thus earning excited screams from both the crowd and the cheerleaders, not excluding Yoona.

The game intensifies, the scoreboard ticking steadily, yet the tension in the arena only grows. Jihoon is everywhere, a blur of blue and white, orchestrating plays, sinking shots, and denying the opposition. The other team, however, desperate to close the widening gap, pushes back with aggressive drives and tight defense.

Mid-second quarter, the opposing team's power forward, a burly player named Kim Donghwan, drives hard to the basket. Jihoon meets him as he jumps, a fierce battle for the rebound ensuing as the shot clanks off the back board. Donghwan, off-balance from the collision with Jihoon and the sudden shift in momentum, stumbles wildly out of bounds. He trips over the baseline advertising, his massive frame tumbling awkwardly. Before anyone can react, he crashes directly into the cheerleading line, specifically into Yoona.

Panicking at the sight of his girlfriend sprawling, Jihoon quickly rises to his feet, rushing towards her. Jihoon grabs Donghwan by the hips, pulling him to his feet with all his might, more concerned about Yoona than anyone else. “Get out of here,” he snarks, his hand, planted on Donghwan’s chest, pushing him backwards. “Get your fucking hand off me,” Donghwan barks back, slapping his hand away in anger. Nine times out of ten, Jihoon would crash out, but this one time, he doesn’t take the bait; Yoona needs help, and anger isn’t going to help her.

A wave of whistles immediately shrills through the arena, cutting through the sudden, stunned silence that followed the collision. Jihoon ignores them, his gaze fixed on Yoona. She's still on the floor, one hand pressed to the back of her head, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. He drops to his knees beside her, his earlier aggression vanishing, replaced by profound worry.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" he asks, his voice tight with concern, gently cradling her head. Around them, chaos erupts. Teammates from both sides rush forward, referees try to separate the players, and the crowd murmurs anxiously. Donghwan, still seething, is being pulled away by his coach. Jihoon barely registers any of it; his world has shrunk to just Yoona, lying still on the cold, hard court.

“Baby, please say something,” he says, his stomach clenching with worry. Yoona’s free hand scrambles, trying to find him, her anchor in this sea of pain. “It… hurts,” she manages. “I know, I know,” Jihoon hurries, carefully rubbing the back of her head, trying to ease the sting. Realizing he can’t stay for long, he turns to one of her teammates, asking her to call the medics. “You’ll be fine, baby.” With a heavy heart, Jihoon lets go of Yoona, returning to his duties as a basketball player, his mind replaying the scene of the tumble.

Jihoon forces his attention back to the court, the referee's whistle a sharp demand for order. His teammates gather around him, their faces etched with concern, but he waves them off, a grim determination setting his jaw. The game clock has stopped, leaving the arena in a thick, uneasy silence broken only by the distant murmur of the crowd. He glances back quickly, seeing the medical team rushing towards Yoona, a small circle of worried cheerleaders already surrounding her. He has to trust them. He has to play. The adrenaline that had surged with panic now channeled itself into a cold, hard resolve. Every dribble, every pass, every shot in this game would now be for her.

A referee heads to the scoring table, a microphone being brought to him for an announcement. “A technical foul is called for player number twenty from Juwan University. Two free throws for Yeonseo University,” he announces, making appropriate gestures as he does. Jihoon’s teammates choose him to take those free throws, but he declines; his mind is not fully in the game, still distracted by the incident involving she who holds his heart. “Just take it, man,” he says.

Minjun, their shooting guard, steps forward without a word, picking up the ball. He knows Jihoon too well, understands the unspoken weight of his captain's gaze on the medical team. Jihoon watches as Minjun calmly stands in the spot, focuses on the rim, and sinks both free throws with a satisfying swish. The scoreboard shifts, adding two precious points to their tally, but Jihoon barely registers it. His eyes are still fixed on the sideline, where Yoona is now being carefully helped onto a stretcher, a white neck brace stark against her cheerleading uniform. He watches her, his heart clenching with every slow, deliberate movement of the medics. He can't go to her, not yet, but he feels every ounce of her pain as keenly as if it were his own.

Noticing the distracted captain, Coach Kang calls for a substitution, giving someone else, who is more focused on the game, to take Jihoon’s spot on the court. As he’s signing off, Jihoon gets a smack to the back of his head; Kang is expressing his disappointment. “Focus, or you’ll regret it,” he threatens. Jihoon offers a nod, but his mind barely grasps the coach’s words; there’s simply no space in his head for the game.

The whistle signaling the end of the first half blows, the players clearing out of the court to give room for the cheerleaders to perform their routine. Jihoon joins his team, retreating to the locker room for a half-time pep talk, a towel covering his head. Passing through the tunnel with his eyes aimed at the ground, he notices a girl rushing out—those shoes look familiar too.

“Oppa!” Jihoon hears her yell and reactively lifts his head: it’s Yoona, no longer showing signs of being hurt, her energetic form returning as if she didn’t hit her head less than ten minutes ago. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine, opening his arms to welcome her. “Later, oppa,” she declines, zipping past him. “I need to perform first!” His eyes follow her as she disappears into the light. “She’s not giving up, is she?” he thinks, his resolution regaining strength at the face of Yoona’s unwavering spirit.

Jihoon walks into the locker room, his stride now imbued with a different kind of energy. Coach Kang looks at him, a questioning glance, and Jihoon offers a confident nod, the towel still draped over his head but his eyes blazing with renewed focus. The image of Yoona's fierce determination, her confident, steady attitude, burns bright in his mind. He pulls the towel off, wiping his face, and steps into the huddle, ready for whatever the second half throws at them. The championship, and everything Yoona represents, feels within their grasp now.

Jihoon concentrates, putting everything that the coaches are saying into his mind. Their instructions to “find space” and “move the ball around” tell him just enough about his roles in the second half, his basketball mind primed. “And you,” Kang points at him, “are you ready to play, or are you still mourning your girl?” Jihoon chuckles, almost insulted by the question about his readiness. “I am ready,” he answers firmly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Put me in, and I’ll do everything you want me to.”

Jihoon and company return to the court, standing in the sidelines as they wait for the cheerleaders to finish. His eyes quickly find Yoona among the crowd, performing with everything she has. Each smile and movement remind him of her promise: “I’m going to make sure you don’t have anyone else to watch but me.” Jihoon’s smile grows bigger, drawing strength from her presence, admiring her strong resolve to always give her best in everything she does. “You’re amazing, Seol Yoona,” he praises her silently.

Soon, the ref's whistle for the start of the second half pierces the arena, and Jihoon explodes from the bench, his feet already moving with a purpose that wasn’t there moments ago. He takes the inbound pass from Minjun and quickly takes the ball over to the other half, already finding the mismatch he wants; the player guarding him is bigger—and therefore slower—and he is about to put him in the wringer.

With a chain of precise dribbles and crosses, Jihoon manages to make his opponent trip on his own feet, creating a mile of separation, and he exploits it right away. With the ball settled in his hands, Jihoon rises to take a shot from beyond the three-point line. The crowd, initially amazed by the ankle-breaker, explodes into deafening cheers. With a cocky smirk, Jihoon puts a finger on his earlobe, riling up the crowd to scream louder for him.

As he returns to his team’s side of the court, Jihoon spots Yoona. She’s cheering him on, bouncing up and down on the spot, her pom-poms skipping along with her, and the sight sends his heart soaring with pride. He points right at her. “For you,” he mouths.

When the final horn pierces through the arena, Jihoon drops to his hands and knees, the depths of his exhaustion finally settling in his mind. He tunes out the sound of the erupting crowd, focusing only on the back-to-back championship and what it means for him. The captain, in his last year of competition, signs off with a parting gift that is most sweet.

As he stays on the floor, someone crashes into him, demanding his attention. “Yoona-yah…” he murmurs, pulling the crying girl into his arms. “This one is yours, baby.” Yoona hides her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing out of control in his arms. “This one is yours,” he repeats, punctuating it with a tender peck to the top of her head, smiling in pride at this achievement.

Nestling in the front seat of the bus once more, Jihoon immediately pulls Yoona closer to him, closing the little gap between them. “We did it, baby,” he whispers, his voice nearly gone from screaming too much during the celebration. “Yes—yes, we did,” she confirms, her hand finding purchase on his chest, rubbing it tenderly. “Congratulations, my love,” she adds, looking at him with glassy eyes, threatening to break down crying again.

As the bus starts rolling to take them home, Yoona rests her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his like they were hours ago. “Oppa, can we celebrate a little?” she asks, looking for a reason to be with him longer. “Yeah, we can. What are you thinking, Yoona-yah?” Yoona shifts around, positioning her lips right beside his ear. “We can… try having sex.”

Jihoon's breath hitches. The soft rumble of the bus, the distant cheers from outside, all fade into a blur. His grip on Yoona's waist tightens reflexively, his mind reeling from her whispered words. He pulls his head back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, which are now wide and earnest, reflecting the dim light of the bus cabin. A slow, warm smile spreads across his face, a mix of surprise, tenderness, and an unmistakable excitement.

"Yoona-yah," he murmurs, his voice still hoarse, but now filled with a different kind of intensity. "Are you serious?" He searches her gaze, not for doubt, but for confirmation. Her cheeks flush a delicate pink, but her eyes hold steady, a silent, confident affirmation. "Yes," she whispers, her hand pressing more firmly against his chest. "Be my first, oppa."

Jihoon's smile softens even further, becoming purely tender. He gently moves his hand from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumbs stroking softly. "Yoona-yah," he whispers again, his voice now a low, husky rumble, filled with overwhelming emotion. "You trust me with that?" A smile forms on Yoona’s face as she nods to his question, her trust in him immense. The trust that tells her, in his arms, she will be safe and loved. “Then yes,” he breathes, leaning closer to her. “I will be your first, and I’ll cherish every single moment, my heart.”

Yoona pecks him on the cheek, her heart warm with his promise to cherish the monumental moment they will share. “We’ll be happy, right, oppa?” she asks, hope lying beneath her pleading voice. “Of course, baby. We’ll be happy together.” Jihoon pecks her in return. Not on her cheek, but on her head, his nostrils filled with the subtle scent of her shampoo.

The soft hum of the bus engine became a comforting lullaby as Yoona settles deeper into Jihoon's side. With his arm securely around her, and her head resting on his shoulder, the weight of the championship, the earlier scare, and the boldness of their shared confession all seem to melt away, leaving only a profound sense of rightness. Jihoon looks out the window, watching the city lights blur past, a contented smile playing on his lips. This is more than just a victory; it is a new beginning, a quiet promise of a future he is now more than ready to embrace, hand in hand with his Yoona.

The bus arrives back at the university after what feels like a moment, as Jihoon and Yoona get lost in their own world where peace is the name of the game. “Yoona-yah…” he taps her shoulder gently, whispering her name as to not startle the exhausted girl. “Wake up, baby. We’re here.” Her eyes flutter open, looking around the bus to find it nearly empty. “W-where’s everyone?” she asks. “Well, they got off moments ago. It’s now our turn,” he says, pressing a light kiss to her forehead to kick-start her body after the slumber.

“Oppa, I can’t walk.” Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow, concern etched in the lines of his forehead. “Are you hurt?” Yoona shakes her head, a playful, teasing smile starting to form. “No, but… I do want to be carried—you know, like you’re abducting me,” she teases. He bursts out laughing, shaking his head simply out of mirth. “Yeah, let’s do that. I hope no one thinks I’m actually abducting you.”

As his laughter dies down, Jihoon gets down on one knee beside her, tapping his shoulder a few times. "Hop on, my little abductee," he jokes, flexing his shoulders playfully. Yoona giggles, getting on his shoulder, her belly pressed firm against it. Even exhausted, Jihoon feels a surge of strength at her light weight. As he stands, adjusting his grip on her back, he looks around the near-empty bus, then out the window at the quiet university grounds. "Ready for your grand abduction?" he whispers, his voice filled with tender amusement. Yoona buries her face in his neck, the soft rumble of his laughter echoing in her ears. "Lead the way—ah, oppa!”

Yoona yelps when Jihoon suddenly runs out of the bus. As if not feeling the weight of the duffel bag in his hand or the girl on his shoulder, Jihoon darts across the parking lot, really getting in the act of pretending to be abducting her. “Oppa, oppa, slow down!” she protests, whacking his back while giggling, not actually scared about any of this. “I can’t slow down. The cops are on me,” he jokes, his voice steady despite running. Yoona laughs even more at his quip, so much so that her saliva drips out of her lips.

Just as Jihoon rounds a corner past the main dormitory, a familiar voice calls out. "Min Jihoon? Is that you?" He skids to a halt, Yoona letting out another surprised yelp. It's Coach Kang, walking briskly with one of the assistant coaches, clearly just leaving a late meeting. Kang's eyes widen, first in surprise, then amusement, as he takes in the sight of his star player carrying the cheerleader captain like a fugitive. Yoona immediately buries her face deeper, trying to become one with Jihoon's back.

"Uh, Coach," Jihoon manages, trying to stifle a laugh and regain some composure. "Just... an emergency escort." Coach Kang simply shakes his head, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Right. Well, try not to get too abducted, Miss Seol—and you, my boy, try not to get a speeding ticket. Well, see you both bright and early for team photos!" He walks past, chuckling, leaving Jihoon and Yoona in a fresh wave of embarrassed laughter.

Jihoon stands still as Kang and the other coach walks away, his cheeks burning with after getting caught frolicking with Yoona. “God, that’s so embarrassing,” she sighs, her cheeks also burning, “can we… I don’t know, get to our destination soon?” He chuckles once more, getting ready to start running again. “Alright, baby. We’re almost there.”

Jihoon tightens his grip, and then, with a renewed burst of energy, he sprints the last hundred meters. He veers off the main path, cutting through a small, shrub-lined shortcut leading directly to the back entrance of his dormitory. The building lights are mostly out, indicating the late hour and the general quiet. He slows as they reach the door, fumbling for his keycard with one hand while still holding her securely with the other. "Home sweet home, my abductee," he whispers, a hint of something deeper in his tone now. Yoona lifts her head from his shoulder, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Wait, this… doesn’t feel like a regular student’s dormitory,” she blurts, offering the result of her brief observation. “No, not really,” he replies. “Student-athletes don’t live like other students.” Her jaw drops, surprised by the revelation. Yoona never knows that people like Jihoon get special treatments. “You’re joking,” she says, but he just shrugs. “College sports bring in loads of money, and we get our privileges for bringing in that money,” he adds.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Jihoon carefully lowers Yoona onto her feet, straightening her crumpled jacket and hair. "Seriously? So, you guys have, like, private rooms and, like, better food?" Yoona asks, her voice still laced with disbelief, momentarily forgetting their playful pretense. "Something like that. Think of it as a thank-you for all the blood, sweat, and tears we put in for the good name of the university."

He reaches a door with a discreet number plaque, tapping his keycard on the scanner. "Anyway, we can discuss the economics of collegiate sports later." He nudges the door open with his elbow, revealing a meticulously kept room, the interior full of shiny furniture. "For now," he whispers, his voice dropping to a tender murmur as he guides her inside. "How about we focus on that celebration you mentioned?"

Yoona steps into the plush carpeted room, her eyes widening slightly at the tasteful, minimalist decor and the sprawling view of the university grounds outside the large window. The door clicks softly shut behind them, muffling the last distant sounds of campus. The air inside is cool and still, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the arena and the bus. She turns, her gaze meeting Jihoon's, and the playful teasing from moments before completely vanishes. His eyes, warm and earnest, are fixed solely on her. Without a word, she steps forward, her hands finding his chest, and comes in for a kiss.

Their lips meet softly at first, a gentle exploration filled with the weight of the day's events and the unspoken promise of the night. It's a kiss that speaks of gratitude, relief, and a burgeoning intimacy. Jihoon's hands instinctively land on her waist, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, holding her with utmost possessiveness. Yoona's arms tighten around his back, pulling him closer, seeking the solid comfort of his presence. The world outside their private sanctuary fades away, leaving only the feel of each other's lips, the warmth of their embrace, and the quiet beating of their hearts.

“Seol Yoona, my heart, I promise to always prioritize us,” he murmurs when they finally break apart. Yoona presses her face against his chest, basking in his manly scent, taking his promise to heart. “Lead us, oppa,” she says, her voice muffled. “Not because I can’t, but because I trust you.” Her words strike deep in his heart, her expectations of him, of their future, crystal clear for him to see. “You promise to always support me, right, baby, because I need you.”

Yoona pulls away, looking up at him, her eyes gleaming with determination. “Of course, oppa,” she says. “I’m giving you my first time as… say, proof of my commitment.” Jihoon inhales sharply at the mention of her innocence, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he’s committed to this relationship as much as she is.

“I’m giving you my first time too, baby,” he replies. Yoona nods, remembering his confession about never having a girlfriend, understanding the implications of this encounter. Tonight isn’t just about her giving him the honor of being her first, but she’s also getting the honor of being his first. “You’ll be my first and last, because I don’t want no one else but you,” he adds.

Jihoon's gaze, filled with unwavering devotion, searches her eyes once more, confirming the powerful connection now binding them. He then gently takes her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Come on, my heart," he whispers, his voice thick with tenderness and anticipation. He doesn't need to ask if she's ready; her presence, her words, everything about her radiates a resolute willingness.

He leads her towards the bed, taking slow steps along with her. “Lie down, please,” he whispers. “I promise you; this bed is far superior to yours.” Yoona giggles as she lies flat on his bed, the mattress sinking slightly at her weight. “It is comfortable,” she confirms. “But… I want you to be with me, oppa, and I’m not talking about lying next to me.” Before joining her, Jihoon takes off his hoodie, revealing his toned physique that she hasn’t seen before. “Goodness me…” she mumbles, her eyes darting around his torso, taking every little detail of him. “No wonder Bae Jinsol fell so hard for you.”

Jihoon places his finger on her lips, bothered by the name she just said. “Please don’t, baby,” he warns her, his voice still soft, only mildly aggravated. “No one else matters like you do.” Yoona closes her eyes, silently scolding herself for saying another name so carelessly. “I’m sorry, my heart,” she says. “That… will never happen again.” He presses a soft, fleeting peck to her lips, as if permanently stifling them from mentioning Jinsol’s name. “You’re forgiven, my love.”

Jihoon's eyes, now clear and focused only on her, move from her lips to her eyes, then down to the simple uniform she still wears. He offers a tender smile, a silent question in his gaze. "Relax, my love," he murmurs, his fingers gently reaching for the zipper of her jacket, beginning to undo it. Yoona takes a shaky breath, a shiver running through her that has nothing to do with cold, but everything to do with anticipation and trust. She watches his hands, then meets his gaze, a silent surrender in her eyes as he slowly, deliberately, begins to strip away the layers that separate them.

“Take me, my love…”

Jihoon's hands tremble slightly as he finishes unzipping her jacket, letting it fall open. Yoona's breath hitches, her chest rising and falling with quickened anticipation. He pushes the jacket from her shoulders, then the thin fabric of her top, revealing the soft curve of her collarbones, then the delicate lace of her bra. His gaze is reverent, taking in every detail as if seeing her for the very first time. He leans in, his lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss that speaks of awe and unwavering devotion, a silent promise to honor the incredible trust she places in him.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips, "My heart, are you sure?" Yoona's eyes, wide and filled with a luminous trust, meet his. She nods, a silent, resolute affirmation. Her hands find the hem of his joggers, pulling them down with a shaky determination that matches his own. Their clothes fall to the floor in a heap around them, the last barriers between their bodies. He shifts above her, supporting his weight on his forearms, allowing her to adjust, to breathe.

Their skin meets, a rush of warmth and undeniable friction. Jihoon moves slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, seeking permission in every subtle shift of her expression. Yoona arches into him, a soft gasp escaping her lips as their bodies align, becoming one. He listens to her reactions, to her soft moans, to her pained grunts, guiding their movements with a tenderness that seeks only her pleasure and comfort. The air in the room thickens with their shared breaths, with the growing intensity of their connection.

“My love…” she murmurs, her chest rising and falling quickly, the acute pain subsiding to give way to stellar pleasure. “I’m… I’m yours.” Jihoon presses his lips against the skin of her neck, his hips still moving steadily. “And I’m yours, my heart…” he replies, his gentle voice akin to music to her ears.

The world outside the private dormitory room ceases to exist. There is only the rhythm of their bodies, the whisper of skin against skin, and the profound intimacy of two souls merging for the very first time. Jihoon moves with a deliberate, loving pace, ensuring that each sensation is shared, each moment cherished. Yoona clings to him, her fingers digging into his back, her earlier tension melting into a pure, incandescent pleasure. In this sacred space, amidst the quiet hum of the night, their unspoken promises culminate in a profound act of love, marking a new, indelible beginning for their hearts.

“I… I won’t last long like this, my love,” he murmurs, hoping she will understand his inexperience. Amongst her moans, Yoona nods, acknowledging the quick pace at which this encounter is progressing. “You don’t have to, oppa,” she replies. “Just let go and give me everything you have. Show me your love.”

Jihoon's body tenses, a low groan escaping his throat as he pours every ounce of his being into the moment. Yoona's grip on his back tightens, her fingers digging into his skin as her own pleasure surges, meeting his. The air crackles with their shared intensity, their breaths ragged gasps that mingle in the quiet room. Then, with a final, shuddering release, Jihoon collapses against her, his weight heavy but comforting. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his body still trembling, their skin slick with sweat.

“I love you, Seol Yoona,” he whispers, his voice rough from his release. “I love you more, oppa—oh, you’re so… warm…” Jihoon chuckles a little, but it’s not amusement; it’s an innocent person’s reaction to someone else’s innocence—or rather, the loss of it. “Let’s lie still and… savor this for now, baby.” Yoona nods, content in the knowledge that she’s loved and cherished, but her eyelids are getting heavy. “You can sleep a little if you want,” he says. Jihoon pecks her forehead, as if pressing a button to send her to sleep.

Yoona's breathing evens out almost immediately, her body relaxing completely against his. Jihoon shifts slightly, pulling the soft blanket up over them, cocooning them in warmth. He closes his eyes, savoring the subtle scent of her hair against his cheek, the steady rhythm of her breath against his chest. The exhaustion from the game, the emotional rollercoaster of the day—the tension, the injury scare, the victorious cheers, and their tender confessions—all melt away, replaced by a profound, peaceful contentment. This quiet intimacy, lying tangled together after such a momentous step, feels like the truest victory of all. Outside the window, the soft glow of the university lights shimmer, a silent witness to the quiet triumph within. The night is still young, but for Jihoon and Yoona, their story is just truly beginning.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #nmixx smut

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jellysmosh · 2 days ago

Text

Better to Leave it Unsaid

Summary: You were a certified yapper, always chatting with anyone and everyone around the Smoffice. Everyone except for one person. Inspired by the song Talk Too Much by COIN.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, mutual pining, extremely light angst if you squint

Word count: 6.1k

Note: This is a huge one! I didn't mean to make this so long, but I just kept going lol… I decided to post the whole thing rather than separate it and make y’all wait for a part 2, hehe. I take a lot of inspiration from music, if you couldn’t tell. Please enjoy~!

☆

You had always been talkative, a chatterbox, and a yapper. Your mother used to tell people that when you were a baby, you learned how to speak in full sentences before you learned how to stand on your own two feet. You couldn’t help it, you just loved to talk. It took you years to learn how to think before you speak.

You enjoyed talking to people, it genuinely made you happy to learn about others and share your thoughts. It was a form of connection, whether it was a late night heart-to-heart with your best friend or joking around with a stranger in line at the supermarket. If you could list ‘conversations’ as an interest on your resume, you absolutely would.

This trait worked to your advantage when you joined Smosh as a cast member.

“You’re so good at talking”, Ian joked with you after your first month, “you always seem to know what to say.”

“Practice makes perfect”, you grinned back as he laughed again.

You had quickly become a fan favourite, especially on Reddit Stories and as a guest on Smosh Mouth, being praised for the chemistry you had with the cast members and how you played off each other in discussions. You struggled a bit more on the games channel, you had very little video games experience and you found it difficult to remember board game rules when you played them for the first time. But the subscribers seemed to love making video compilations of everytime you forgot a rule or had to quietly ask for help mid-game.

Working at Smosh was so much fun, not just because you loved your work, but because there was such a diverse and interesting group of people you had long and frequent talks with. You had gotten to know everyone so well throughout the past few months, both cast and crew.

Well.

Everyone except for Spencer.

When you joined Smosh and met all the people working there, you had taken to Spencer in a different way than the others.

The crush you developed on him was quick and severe. You had no idea what to do with it. You were never good with romantic attraction, the few times you made the first move with a potential partner, it always ended disastrously. When it came to someone you really liked, you clammed up. Every time you were around Spencer, you panicked, and your heart sped up when he spoke to you. All the words that normally flowed out of your mouth got all tangled up in your head and stuck in your throat. Even when you two were doing your jobs and he was directing you on a game video, you responded to his directions with a silent, tight-lipped smile without making eye contact.

You did not handle cute guys well. And Spencer was cute. With his big green eyes, cheeky smile, and quick-witted humour, he was exactly your type to a T. It infuriated you, the person you wanted to have a connection with the most was so distant from you, and it was your own fault. You wanted to be close with him like everyone else, having lunch together, hanging out after work, you wanted it all. He definitely noticed how weird you were about him, because he drew back, hardly ever reaching out to you and only speaking to you when absolutely necessary. You couldn’t blame him.

The invisible wall between you guys that you had accidentally built seemed to get taller by the day, and you wished there was some way to knock it down.

☆

“Cut!”

That was a wrap on the most recent Board AF video and it was finally lunchtime. You and the other cast members hopped up from your seats as the room was filled with post-recording chatters.

“Good job, guys!” Spencer clapped his hands, “Amanda and Chanse, that was amazing teamwork. Shayne, super funny, as per usual.” He was wearing his green Smosh merch cap and a white T-shirt today. God, he looked so good.

You pretended not to notice he praised everyone else in the video besides you.

“And great banter, Y/N”, he added before turning to Alex to debrief.

Nevermind. You almost skipped out of the room from the high you got from him complimenting you.

You could really enjoy your lunch break after that. Sitting down between Angela and Amanda, you dug right in, conversing with the others at the table as you did everyday.

“I was watching the shoot just then, you know?” Angela nudged you, speaking between bites, “what’s up with you and Spence?”

You almost bit down on your tongue in surprise.

“What?” You laughed to cover the worried feeling that rose inside you, “what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean”, she spoke quietly, this was between you two. The rest of the table were not paying attention, holding their own conversation about the schedule for the rest of the week. “You, like, don’t look directly at him and you just silently do what he says. No reply, nothing.”

“I didn’t think I had to reply to every direction given”, you shot back, eyes on your food. You were dreading where this situation was heading.

“Okay, okay, no offence”, Angela lay a hand on your leg, eyebrows raised so high it made you laugh, “I have never seen you skip an opportunity to say something.” When she saw your jaw drop, she quickly added, “I’m saying this as a fellow yapper, okay? It takes one to know one. You seem to talk non-stop to anyone until it’s with Spencer, then you shut right up. Are you mad at him? Did he do something to piss you off?”

You sighed and put your fork down.

“No, Angela”, you both leaned back in your chairs, facing each other, “I’m not mad at him, he did nothing wrong.”

“Then?”

“I-”, you quickly glanced around you, checking nobody was paying attention to you two, “I don’t know. Like, I just can’t talk to him.”

“But why?” Angela had her hands out inquisitively, like this was a great mystery she had been thinking about for a long time. “How are you not able to talk to somebody? You start chattering when you hear someone enter the stall next to you in the bathroom. It’s disturbing. Nothing stops you.”

“I don’t know”, you were a lying liar. You knew damn well why you struggled to speak to him. “I just can’t!”

She eyed you suspiciously. She was squinting at you so hard, you resisted the urge to ask if she needed her glasses. This was one of the rare times you actually wanted a conversation to end as soon as possible.

“Right”, she finally conceded, a strange expression on her face, “totally. Yeah. You just don’t know.”

You nodded, smiling like nothing was bothering you. You could tell she wasn’t satisfied with your response but you were just glad she wasn’t pushing it anymore. She was very empathetic, so she could probably feel you were getting uncomfortable.

“Anyway”, she shook her head, poking you gently as she changed the topic, “what are you scheduled for tomorrow morning?”

☆

“And then I told him that I didn’t know where his wallet was and that I was sorry”, you explained, hands gesturing wildly.

“I mean, yeah”, Tommy responded while nodding, “you literally met him five minutes before, how were you meant to know?”

You were telling him a story about some guy you befriended at a bar a while ago when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You spun around to see Spencer standing there, holding his laptop. You didn’t even hear him approaching while you were talking, how long had he been there?

“Hello”, he waved, you silently waved back and Tommy replied with his own ‘hello’. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but I need to speak to Y/N about an upcoming video. Sorry, Tommy.”

“No problem, don’t worry about it”, Tommy replied before heading back to his desk, “see you guys later.”

You wanted to yell for him to come back so you wouldn’t be alone with Spencer, but you were left with no choice but to quietly follow Spencer to the games set. He was going to quickly go through how to play a new board game you were set to play with a few of your cast mates because your schedules didn’t line up and you couldn’t be there when he taught the others.

“Okay”, he sighed, plopping down on the large grey couch. “Please sit down”, he nodded his head at the space next to him.

You carefully sat a respectable distance away from him, close enough to properly listen to him but far enough to not get you flustered. As he began to teach you the rules and show you the different cards, you tried your hardest to focus. He made it so difficult, he just looked so gorgeous. His curls were sitting just right today, one stray strand dangling down his forehead, and he was wearing that Creed shirt he always looked good in. His glasses slowly slipped down his nose when he leaned down and you bit your tongue as he adjusted them. You were trying to remember what each card did in the game, but your thoughts kept going back to how nice his voice sounded. He didn’t speak too fast and he kept the volume low since it was just you two sitting on the set, it tickled something in your brain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” His voice calling your name drew you out of your own thoughts.

A single ‘huh?’ was your clever response.

He sighed, seemingly a little frustrated.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yes”, you responded defensively, vaguely repeating some of the main points you managed to retain from when he was talking.

“Okay”, he nodded, “you did remember a few things. Sorta.”

He picked up the deck of cards and slid them back into their box as you silently watched his fingers work.

“Any questions?”

You looked up at his face to see him looking back at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Uh… no”, you flatly replied. You could feel your face and neck gradually get warmer the longer he looked at you.

“No? Any comments? Anything at all?”

You shook your head. Hopefully, this interaction would be ending soon before something devastating happened, like him noticing how red your face was or how clammy your hands were. You looked away and your eyes darted around the set. You didn’t like being speechless, it was an uncomfortable feeling for you.

“Y/N”, he gently pressed. You froze in place, eyes glued to the small table in front of you. “Why…”, he trailed off, not finishing his question before he stood up, “uh, nevermind. We’re done here, I guess. See you around.”

And then he was gone.

You felt relief and anxiety mix together at the bottom of your stomach. You wanted to talk to him so bad but you were so in your own head about him, about your feelings for him. In another world, where you could get over your feelings for him, you could be best friends. You could be talking all day long, asking about each other's days, how your families were going, what your weekend plans were.

Instead, right now, you were the only person in the room, left sitting alone on an empty set.

☆

“What is their problem?” Spencer grumbled, partly to himself, partly to Alex and Shayne, interrupting the conversation they were having right next to Spencer’s desk. They both turned to look down at him, borderline sulking in his chair.

“Y/N?” Shayne hit the nail on the head immediately. Spencer didn’t often talk about his strained relationship with you, but the few times he did have been with these two in particular.

“Yeah”, he lifted his glasses to rub his eyes, “I just met with them to explain the new game we’re playing tomorrow.”

“Awkward?” Alex grinned.

“So awkward”, Spencer threw his hands up, “I really don’t get it! They just refuse to say anything to be besides ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘huh?’”

They could tell Spencer was getting frustrated, not quite angry, moreso confused and unsure on what to do.

“It’s been months since they started”, Shayne crossed his arms, tone neutral, “have they not had a proper conversation with you even once?”

“Never”, Spencer replied, “what about you guys?”

“All the time”, Shayne replied sheepishly.

“Yeah, all the time”, Alex nodded, almost apologetically. “I talked to them this morning about Fortnite for like half an hour. They asked me to explain it to them.”

“You’re kidding me”, Spencer whined, he just could not wrap his head around why you guys just didn’t click. “I would have killed to explain Fortnite to someone for the first time.”

The other two seemed bemused by his turmoil. Spencer feared they may not be taking this seriously. It was serious. Over the past months, he had watched you grow close with other people at Smosh, chatting and bonding so naturally it was as if you had worked there for years. Whenever he saw you, you were always in the middle of a lengthy conversation with someone; you had gained a reputation around the office as an amazing listener who would be easy to talk to for hours. Spencer thought you two could get along great, he was not the most talkative, but he loved to chat and loved to listen. However, Spencer seemed to be the one person in the company that you refused to talk to.

It didn’t help that he thought you were very attractive. It drove him insane, he felt this inexplicable draw to you and yet you avoided even making eye contact with him. Did you find out about his crush on you? Were you grossed out? Was that why you avoided speaking to him? There was no way though, he hadn’t told a single person about how attracted he was to you.

“Look, man”, Shayne gained his attention again, “if it really bothers you, you have to talk to them. They can’t read your mind, they might not even realise they’re doing it.”

That made Spencer laugh, you definitely knew you were doing it.

“Yeah, what Shayne said”, Alex chimed in, “talking to them is going to be a way better approach than sitting on your ass, ripping out your hair trying to solve it.”

“Maybe”, he groaned, turning back to his computer to continue his work, “I’ll think about it.”

Alex and Shayne shared a knowing look before leaving him alone.

☆

The next time you spoke to Spencer alone, he accosted you in the break room.

You were stirring the tea you had just made when you heard footsteps behind you slowly coming to a stop.

Before you could turn around and greet whoever it was, you heard Spencer’s apprehensive voice, “Alex mentioned you were showing an interest in Fortnite.”

You almost dropped your mug, but you managed to keep a firm grip on it as you turned around to face him. You tried to say something but faltered before closing your mouth and nodding. You already knew this was going to be another failed attempt at a conversation. You might as well have run for it then and there.

“Okay, well”, he put his hands in his pockets as he continued, “we could play together sometime? Or I could arrange for us to play on the channel in the future or something.”

You blinked a few times. He was asking to play Fortnite together. You felt so excited, you wanted to chug your tea down like a beer and give him a huge kiss but you controlled your impulses. You were curious about the game because of Spencer talking about it all the time and showing Angela how to play, so you enquired about the game from Alex a few days ago. You saw a chance to get through the invisible wall, conquer your feelings, and really get to know Spencer. You were determined to get over this stupid crush of yours for the sake of befriending him, you were tired of being the only person that didn’t get to enjoy his company.

“That sounds fun”, you managed to blurt out, both you and Spencer seemed shocked that you were actually speaking to him. “I mean, I’m not very experienced with video games, but it looks like a lot of fun”, your voice was quivering from nerves and you just prayed he didn’t notice, “I think all the cosmetics are really cool too.”

“Yes!” Spencer seemed to almost jump at the opportunity to talk to you, “they released a Sabrina Carpenter skin. You like her, don’t you?”

Your heart was going a mile a minute, were you actually managing to talk to him? And how did he know you were a fan of Sabrina Carpenter?

“Yeah, I love her!” You found yourself actually smiling, even though you were resisting the urge to find the nearest escape route like some kind of prey animal, “I didn’t know she had a collaboration with them. I actually just ordered the Short n’ Sweet Deluxe vinyl record I’ve been wanting for ages, it took me, like, an hour to decide which colour to get.”

“And which colour was that?” He asked.

“The blue one”, you quickly replied, “the white pearl one was pretty but I wanted the brighter colour. I thought it would look cuter on my record player.”

You were so excited that Spencer seemed interested in talking to you, it almost outweighed the incredible amount of nerves you were experiencing in that moment. You were trying your absolute hardest to form normal words and sentences in his presence. Having his whole attention on you as you spoke was so foreign and just as scary as it normally was, but it was also sort of thrilling. You felt like a teenager again, trying something new and rebellious that you figured you might regret later. There was a paradox of wanting to talk to him like this more to aid in your mission to get over your feelings for him, but the more he looked at you and spoke to you, the more you felt yourself falling.

You were making crazy progress on holding a conversation with him, though. You were definitely being more reserved than when you chatted with other people in the office, but this was breaking the record for longest talk you’ve ever had with him. It made your heart beat so fast you were scared you would pass out.

You had moved onto the topic of music and your record collection, the one you had been working on ever since you moved into your own apartment.

“I have about 30 now”, you had a small, proud smile on your face, “it’s growing slowly, I try not to blow all my money on them.”

“No, I get it”, he said back, grinning, “that is so cool, frankly.”

You felt your entire upper body flush with heat when he said that, your face feeling red and tingly. Part of you wanted to squeal at his compliment and the other part wanted to disappear, dig a hole into the floor and hide in it. Yapping came so naturally to you, but it was still proving difficult to speak to him. Your brain was in overdrive, trying so hard to pick the right words to say and string them into coherent sentences, stuff that was as easy as breathing when you spoke to anybody else.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer sounded worried all of a sudden. When you looked at him with a confused expression, he pointed at your mug, “your hands are shaking pretty bad right now, you might want to put that drink down.”

You hadn’t noticed, you were indeed shaking, little ripples running through your tea from the movement.

“I’m okay”, you tried to grin widely, but it felt like a grimace. You tightened your hold on your tea, willing yourself to stop trembling. You realised you had probably reached your limit on talking to Spencer for today. Any more and you may have a heart attack. “Just a bit of the shakes, I have weak arms”, you lied.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes!” Your reply was too hasty and too loud, “yes, of course! I really need to get back to work though.”

He nodded as you cautiously stepped past him and almost jogged towards the exit, careful not to spill your drink.

“Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You paused, looking at him over your shoulder. You could have sworn he looked worried, nervous even. You felt extra light on your feet knowing he wanted to talk to you again.

“Yeah”, you couldn’t help the smile that took over your face, cheeks red and hands damp with sweat, “yeah, talk to you later, Spencer.”

He smiled back in a way that made your chest hurt and you couldn’t figure out if there was actually a halo of glowing light around him or you were hallucinating. You had to turn away and keep walking or you would have burst into flames with how warm your entire body had become. The gentle way he spoke to you replayed in your head over and over and over.

How the hell were you going to get over him?

☆

Spencer couldn’t help smiling to himself as he typed. He was a little distracted from his work today.

“What’s gotten into you?” Alex asked, alarmed at his behaviour. “You’re acting weird and happy and giddy.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, it’s just… did something happen?” Alex abandoned their desk and came over to him. They could be such a gossip sometimes. “Did you finally ask Y/N what the problem was?”

“No”, Spencer stopped doing his work too, turning to look at them, “but we had, like, an actual conversation.”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up, “wow, really?”

“Yes, dude, we talked about Sabrina Carpenter in Fortnite and their record collection”, he was obviously excited, “and it wasn’t a long talk, but they spoke actual sentences to me.”

“Good for you, buddy”, Alex patted his back, trying not to laugh as Spencer turned back to his monitor with a huge smile on his face, “good for you.”

☆

It had been a week since you had that discussion with Spencer and you were still reeling from it. You both got very busy and you didn’t really find yourself alone with him after that. You were both excited and very scared about the next time you could potentially talk. You had been mentally hyping yourself up before work everyday, just in case. You were determined to push your feelings down as far as possible, so you could have a longer conversation next time.

It was a sunny Friday morning when you breezed through the door, mood high because the barista at the cafe remembered your order and gave you a dollar discount. You greeted every single person you walked past and gave Courtney a huge hug when you saw her.

“You’re in a good mood”, they laughed, “happy Friday, huh?”

“I just feel like today’s gonna be an amazing day”, you hummed, pulling away and grabbing her hand. You swung them around between you wildly as you spoke, “the weather’s gorgeous, my coffee tastes extra good this morning, you look beautiful. It’s been great so far.”

She leaned forward and laughed hard.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re filming with Spence later?”

“What?” You stopped swinging your arm, looking at her with wide eyes, “that’s not why- no, I didn’t even know, no, well, I did know but, that’s not a reason to- like, I don’t even…”

“Okay, breathe”, Courtney was wheezing with laughter now, “I was just teasing, Y/N. You’re okay.”

You fanned your face lightly, why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? Did they know about your feelings for Spencer? You swore you were working on that. Hopefully, the mention of him won’t make you feel like this soon.

“I’ve never seen you stumble over words like that before”, they started swinging your arms again, “what was that about? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him”, you explained, shaking your head, “I like him! I like him a lot!”

Another weakness of yours that came along with being a yapper was your bad habit of over-explaining. You couldn’t shut up if you tried, unfortunately.

“You… like him a lot?” Courtney raised a single eyebrow, “never heard you admit that before. That’s very interesting.”

“No!” You let go of her hand to wave yours in front of her in a panic, “no, not like that!”

“Yeah”, she replied, slowly stepping away from you and heading back in the direction she was originally going, “totally, yeah. You didn’t mean it like that.”

You rushed away to your desk, cheeks flared up and your head down to hide it. You didn’t see Courtney look back at you with a mischievous smirk.

☆

“Y/N is on one today”, Courtney gasped as everyone was trying to catch their breath. You had told an off-hand, low-brow joke that you did not expect to land, but apparently everyone at Smosh had the humour of a 12 year old boy. Your chest swelled with pride, not from making everyone at the table laugh, but for making specifically Spencer laugh so hard, he was covering his face with his hands.

You silently thanked the heavens that you got to film a Moose Master video with Spencer today without going through the emotional and physical torture of sitting directly next to him. In your opinion, he looked super hot today, he was wearing a hoodie and pushed the sleeves up instead of taking it off when the game really heated up. All you wanted was to stop looking at the cameras and just stare at his tattoos to commit them to memory. Making him laugh while he looked so good was like doing crack. Or what you imagined doing crack was like.

As the game continued, the volume in the room only increased, more rules making people screw up and yell at each other. It was getting intense.

“You said her first name!” You pointed at Noah accusingly, interrupting the tirade he was on, “you broke a rule! I got your ass!”

“Y/N”, clearly frustrated, Noah put his hand up in your face, “shut up for once!” He then continued with the argument he was having with Amanda.

The comment was played for laughs, clearly all in the lighthearted spirit of the game. You had to admit the way he worded it hurt a little bit. But at the end of the day, you knew he didn’t mean it, you had all said stuff you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t a big deal, so you got over that twang of pain pretty fast.

Seeming to notice you had become uncharacteristically silent for a moment, Spencer locked eyes with you from across the table. He silently raised his eyebrows and gave you a miniscule nod, you knew this meant ‘are you okay?’ Your cheeks flushed at him paying attention to solely you amongst the chaos and you nodded back in assurance before returning to the game.

His consideration unleashed a thousand butterflies in your stomach, it was clearly not a big deal, but he still wanted to check on you. You almost wanted to be mad at him for being so cute and sweet. He really was not going to let this ‘getting over your crush’ thing easy.

☆

After an hour, filming wrapped and everyone slowly dispersed. You lingered back a little, discussing something random with Courtney. You two walked off the set a little slower than the others, and once you were back in the main section of the office, you bid Courtney adieu as they went off to take care of something else.

“Hey Y/N”, you jumped a little in surprise, you hadn’t realised Spencer was standing by the door, just out of sight. “Can we talk for a second?”

Oh my god, here we go. You had been gearing up for your next one-on-one conversation with Spencer, you wanted this one to go off without a hitch, leaving him thinking you were charismatic and clever. The problem lay in the fact that when you were finally alone with him, and his beautiful eyes were gazing into yours and only yours, your mind went completely blank.

“Yeah”, you replied, exhaling. You didn’t even realise you had been holding your breath. You were glad nobody else was around to see you embarrass yourself.

“Did…”, Spencer scratched the back of his neck, “did what Noah said during that video upset you? I mean, I know you nodded like you were okay, but I just wanted to check on you to make sure, because that was a pretty rude thing to say”, his eyes were avoiding yours this time, “even though I know you know he didn’t really mean it. That doesn’t make it okay, though. Okay, I’m rambling right now, I’m gonna stop…”

You stared at him speechlessly. He was being so unbelievably cute right now. The care he was showing for you and your feelings endeared him to you so much it hurt.

“Spencer, you’re making this so hard”, you groaned without thinking. When you realised what you said, you wanted to run again. Flight or fight activated.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “making what hard?”

Now you’ve gone and done it. You were incredibly embarrassed, searching the floor for some sort of way out of this situation.

“No, Noah didn’t make me uncomfortable”, you said in a monotone voice.

“Y/N, what am I making hard?” He ignored you and took a step forward, you started to panic.

“That’s what she said”, you couldn’t even laugh at your joke. He didn’t laugh either, and that made you feel even worse.

“Y/N”, Spencer slowly reached for you, as if you were a skittish wild animal. You tried your hardest not to flinch when he gently put his hand on your upper arm. “What’s going on? You can tell me.”

You finally looked up at him. There was an entire galaxy in his eyes you wanted to explore. He had gotten so close to you, but you wanted him even closer.

“I know you don’t really like talking to me, but”, he swallowed, “I really want to change that. You just need to tell me what to do.”

“I do, though”, you mumbled, your face felt so hot, you could probably cook an egg on it. “I want to talk to you all the time, it’s just-”, you shut your mouth, not daring to say anything further.

“What am I making hard for you, Y/N?” He was whispering now.

There was a beat of silence. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds, but it felt like it stretched on for hours.

“Getting over you”, you whispered back meekly, hands balling into fists by your sides. “Getting over my big, fat crush on you”, you said a little louder, you were diving into the deep end, laying bare your soul for him.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, entire body almost recoiling in surprise. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought you didn’t like me. You talk to every single person in the office like they’re your best friend except for me.”

“Y-you make me nervous”, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, “I’ve never been any good at talking to cute guys I like.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red. He seemed almost as flustered as you.

“But!” You were fighting to save the situation, the last thing you wanted was to completely fuck up the work environment for both of you because of your schoolyard crush. “I promise I’m trying my best to get over my feelings for you. And then it’ll be so much easier to chat, and we can yap all day long together! I just need some time to work on it, that’s all.”

“Stop”, he murmured, tone pleading. He had stepped even closer, you could feel the heat coming off his body. Or it was just the heat your own face was generating. You were pretty sure you were visibly sweating. “Stop that.”

“What-”

“I don’t want you to”, he gently took your hand and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, a shiver ran up your spine, “I don’t want you to get over me.” His green eyes bore into yours, your heart thudded against your ribcage as you willed yourself not to break eye contact. “I haven’t been able to get over you, you know”, he spoke to you in a quiet tone you had never heard from him before, “ever since we talked in the break room, I’ve been thinking about you all the time.”

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times, completely in shock and searching for words that were not coming to you. You were so accustomed to knowing what to say in reply to pretty much anything, the constant flow of conversation buzzing at the back of your head came to a screeching halt. There was nothing but a heavy silence in your head as the man you’ve been pining for was metaphorically grabbing your heart out of your chest and claiming it as his.

“Just… thinking about you and how funny and bright you are”, he kept going, you had never heard Spencer word-vomit like this and it made your heart soar, “you talk so loud, but I love it because I can still hear you even though you won’t talk to me”, that made you laugh, your free hand coming up to cover your red face. “Your jokes always get me, and I love how you laugh with your whole body. I’m just always thinking about your smile, and your humour, and how kind you are to everyone, you’ve been driving me crazy.”

You covered his mouth with your trembling hand. You were so flustered, you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle any second. He looked at you with expectant eyes, round and imploring, like he was asking a silent question.

“You’re talking more than me for once”, you inspected every part of his face, you rarely had the opportunity to do that, you had been avoiding being close to him all this time after all. He chuckled behind your hand, the way his eyes crinkled a little in the corners when he smiled made you want to scream. You worried that he might be able to feel your racing pulse. “I never thought you would like me back.”

He slowly pushed your hand away from his mouth, “and I never thought you would like me. You acted like you hated me.”

“Okay”, you started, cutting yourself off with an embarrassed chortle, “I was panicking every time I saw you, I’m sorry!”

You joked with each other like that for the next few minutes, your heartbeat slowing slightly as you calmed down. Your chest tightened with excitement as you realised he had inched even closer, almost touching you. He looked at you with so much affection in his eyes when you laughed at something he said. You felt like you were on cloud nine.

“So”, you looked down at your fingers still interlocked, “what does this mean for us then?”

“Well”, Spencer pretended to think really hard, “if you can actually stand talking to me for more than five minutes,” he ignored you as you smacked his chest in fake offence, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

You hummed, also pretending to think really hard. He grinned at you, eyes fond. You wondered if he had been looking at you like that all this time.

“Yes, I think I’d like that”, you answered softly.

Feeling bold, you leaned in slightly, wondering if you could get away with kissing him on the cheek. He had other plans, tilting his head so his lips were almost grazing yours. He stayed still, waiting on you, always waiting on you. Both of you had your eyes half closed, transfixed on each other’s lips. Your stomach flipped as you took the leap, moving forward and pressing your mouth against his. It was absolute bliss.

Just like that, the invisible wall between you came tumbling down. It was like it was never there in the first place as Spencer’s hand squeezed yours tight.

☆

Note: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think! Also, I am happy for people to send requests, I want to try writing shorter fics, so that would be perfect! If you have sent me an ask, please be patient with me as I work through them, thanks guys. <333

♡ masterlist

#starsfics #spencer agnew #smosh #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #spencer smosh #spencer agnew fanfiction

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meo-juice · 3 days ago

Note

HAII ^^ can i request some headcanons on what it would be like to be part of the bakusquad ? i luvv how u characterize characters <33

being a part of the bakusquad headcanons ✩࿐࿔

͙͘͡ ★ author's note: thank you sm for the request anon!! i hope i can do it justice. bakusquad is bakugou, kirishima, sero, denki, and minaaaaa. requests are open!

͙͘͡ ★ cw: sfw, swearing, mentions of alcohol.

͙͘͡ ★ word count: 603

͙͘͡ ★ dividers by @cafekitsune on tumblr!

being sucked into the whirlwind of a friend group that happens to be the so-called bakusquad (much to it's namesake's dismay), each day brings a new possibility.

being greeted by mina by a knock on your door at the latest hours to paint your toenails and talk the craziest shit known to man. who's hot, who's not, drowning out the low murmur of 13 going on 30 and love island from your tv. she's always ready with hot glue and sequins to make the latest craft trends on tiktok.

kirishima waits for you by the front door every morning to walk you to class and catch up on the tea that he missed the previous night from mina. he is an honorary member of the girls. when the two of you hang out it's all about watching new anime and mocking them when needed. jojo's bizarre adventure is a joint favorite to make fun of but love at the same time.

sero likes to drag you guys out for morning hikes, with many complaints from denki. bakugou will huff but it'll quickly turn into a race for him to make it to the peak first. he always offers a cooldown afterwards with fast food to keep everyone happy. the two of you like to go on long rides with all the windows down blaring everything from taylor swift to radiohead and doing your best 2000's pop punk vocal impressions.

bakugou will greet you in passing each morning, which is a lot for him. sometimes he'll stop by your room to study because, "you're the only other one who fuckin' knows what's goin' on." he secretly just thinks it's nice to work alongside another person and corroborate ideas on paper and in the field.

denki will drag you anywhere and everywhere. sneaking out at 2am to go to the nearest walmart, laser tag and arcades where he always leaves butthurt after you show him what's up. you frequently watch old spongebob episodes and see whatever new games are on steam to try out together.

every friday night is what kirishima has proudly named family game night.

family game night includes several heated (sometimes physical) arguments over mario kart. it truly brings out the worst in people.

when the twister board gets laid out across the floor of whoever's poor soul is hosting that friday, it gets even more intense.

many of the colored circles have been blown through with crispy, blackened edges from bakugou's determined attempts to claim his victory. he never wins. he is about as flexible as a butter knife.

denki tries his hardest to get a couple six-packs back into the dorms. aizawa does in fact catch him every time. they've begun to build up in his own room, he doesn't know what tat kid is trying to drink.

despite friendships almost being broken over blue shells and a right hand on red, the night always ends with a pileup on the couch and a movie that kirishima never gets to pick- he always wants the avengers.

bakugou always heads back to his room before he actually falls asleep, far before anyone else. kirishima goes next, until you one by one drop like flies. it usually ends up with you and sero quietly trying to pick up trash and fold blankets without disturbing the sleeping crowd.

he'll always let you take whatever bed there is, opting for the floor among the tangled bodies below him because he's just too nice.

yet each night you fall asleep feeling the love from your friends. whether they're the type that admits it or not.

͙͘͡ ★ disclaimer: these characters do not belong to me! all written works are my own (meo-juice). please do not repost my work on other sites or apps than tumblr. thank you!

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ahundredtimesover · 13 hours ago

Text

Something About You (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; semi-explicit smut that's not too smutty (m&f oral, condom talk, unprotected sex) (18+)

Word count: 21.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: Wrapping up this feel-good series! I'd hoped to gush about these episodes with you guys weekly but it is what it is, and I'm just happy for the people who tuned in and have and will enjoy this. I hope this story and these characters gave you a bit of joy.

Your eyes dart to the time on your laptop screen.

2:52 PM.

Jungkook will be arriving at your apartment soon for your scheduled 3PM drive to Busan but your meeting with your manager doesn’t seem like it’ll end in the next eight minutes.

It’s Friday, and though you’re glad that she allowed you to adjust your hours today, you also wish she’d stick to the agenda and not add items to it because now, she’s briefing you about a new research proposal when you should just be talking about the one you’re currently working on.

“Yes, I’ll read more about that. So the one that’s due next week…” you say, trying to bring the conversation back to its original purpose. “I worked on the budget with the procurement team with regards to the service provider fees. Do you have any comments about it?”

She asks if they’ve been vetted and you answer that you did your due diligence and that the quotes and sample works are in the attachment you sent her. You’re discussing the other line items when Jungkook opens the door - having already memorized your lock code - and you gesture to him that you’re still on a call.

He gives a thumbs up to say it’s okay, and he gestures to the clothes he’s holding to say that he’ll just change while waiting for you to finish. You nod in response, expecting he’d head to your bathroom, only for him to strip in the middle of your living room, as you can see from your periphery.

You hold in your surprised look and curse him internally for teasing you like this.

But not wanting to miss out on the view, you move your laptop towards the right and adjust your seat so you can have a good look at him. You’re met with a muted incredulous laugh followed by a cheeky smile, as he now stands several feet from you in just his black Calvin Klein underwear.

It’s a shame you’re not close enough to admire every detail of him looking like that, but you have the rest of the weekend to do so. The thought of what the next three days will bring sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes alternate from the screen to your boyfriend, who’s now replaced his running shorts and sports jacket with black trousers, a loose-fit white tank top, and a blue cardigan. You bite your lip to hold in a smile and your manager fortunately doesn’t notice.

She finally realizes that it’s past 3PM and apologizes for holding you up, especially since you started the day much earlier than usual just so you can accommodate the four-hour trip you’ll be making.

“This is great work as always, ___,” she beams. “I’ll let you go now and I’ll see you on Tuesday. Enjoy your cousin’s wedding!”

“Thank you,” you say, bidding her goodbye.

You close your laptop, officially switching off for the weekend, then frown at Jungkook as he walks over to you.

He chuckles as he bends down to kiss your lips while you remain seated. You give in as you always do, and the groan you’re about to let out is replaced with a moan when he swipes his tongue in your mouth and gently cups your cheek.

He pulls away and boops your nose before standing straight up.

“How rude of you to dress up in front of me like that,” you scowl at him.

“And how naughty of you to watch me while you’re on a call with your manager like that,” he bites back.

“You’re so annoying,” you huff, even as you hug him and immediately fall into his arms.

“Sorry, just wanted to tease,” he admits. “I know my body drives you crazy.”

You pinch his stomach and pull away.

“Were you ever this cocky?” You chuckle.

“Nah. It’s a trait I developed just in the last two months. It’s all your fault since you react the way you do,” he smirks. “But don’t worry, we’ve got this weekend.”

“We do,” you say, biting your lip at the anticipation of what’s in store.

Of course, there’s Seokjin and Hayoung’s wedding tomorrow afternoon in Busan and the intimate yacht party right after. There’s also seeing Taehyung who flew back for a few days for the celebration. There’s the luxury hotel with all its fancy amenities that you’ll definitely take advantage of. There’s seeing both your families and meeting them as a couple this time. And then there’s staying over at Jungkook’s house on Sunday. There’s lots to look forward to and you can’t wait to get started.

“So… am I gonna see you dress up, too?” Jungkook smiles.

“Sucks for you, I’m already wearing this,” you shrug, saying you’d planned on leaving right as he arrived but your meeting extended you so now you really should get going.

He whines only a little then follows you as you walk towards your luggage.

“Do you have everything packed already? Dress, the right underwear, heels, makeup, evening bag?” He asks, making sure you didn’t forget anything or else it’ll ruin your weekend.

“Yup, I’ve got— oh shit, my bathing suits!”

You scurry to your closet and get a few pairs, knowing that Jungkook would want to swim as much as he can. And while you could watch him for hours, joining him wouldn’t be bad.

“Can’t forget those,” he hums.

Once you’ve got everything packed, you turn towards him to signal that you’re ready, and he heads out your door with you right behind him.

Going on a long drive alone with Jungkook is not a rare thing; it’s something you’ve done a few times just this past year. And so there’s this familiarity you feel - there’s talking about your day, a lot of teasing, smacking his chest, video calling with your friends, and sipping iced coffee and feeding each other the cookies you bought at a drive-thru.

But there are new things, too, like holding his hand and placing it on your thigh for him to caress. There’s shamelessly ogling him and telling him how handsome he looks in his outfit and him admitting that he wears the tank top because of how much you like it. There’s kissing him when you’re at the stoplight, and him suggesting driving to an emergency stop so he could kiss you back properly.

And then there’s talking about other couple things, like meeting your respective parents as each other’s partners this time.

You’ve met each other’s families several times before so it’s nothing new. Your parents know him as the athlete and the teacher and the one you describe as everyone’s go-to person. You’re known to his parents by your profession, too, as well as being the clumsy girl who freaks out when holding a knife and often hurts herself.

“Kook, they probably think I’m useless,” you pout.

“They also know you as the other smart friend,” he says. “They remember that you got an award during graduation. That’s not being useless, babe.”

“Yeah but I mean, you know, domestic stuff,” you say softly. “All I know to do is wash dishes. That’s the only thing I can do when I stay over on Sunday.”

Jungkook understands what you mean and immediately appeases you.

“They’re not of that traditional mindset so you don’t have to worry. My mom’s cooking isn’t the best, too,” he laughs. “My parents just taught me and my brother how to be independent and then we could look out for those who—”

“Are helpless?”

“Who need a bit more help,” he corrects you. “You’re not even that bad. You know how to feed yourself.”

“Yeah, very basic food that only requires less than five steps to make. Or anything I can cook in the air fryer,” you laugh at yourself mockingly. “I don’t know how to make things fancy or delicious like you.”

“Well, basic things help you survive so that doesn’t make you helpless. Plus, you now have a boyfriend who makes the fancy and delicious food for you,” he winks. “Makes it difficult for you to let go of me, yeah?”

“Hey, I like you either way,” you pout at him. “Though I admit that the cooking skills definitely help.”

“Good. I’ll just keep making delicious things for you, then,” he smiles.

“You are good at taking care of me,” you nod. “I don’t really know what I—”

“You listen to me,” he interjects before you say what he thinks you’re gonna say, which is that you don’t take care of him the way he does with you.

He could already sense your faraway eyes and knew that your mind would travel elsewhere again, and to places he doesn’t want it to go to. He hopes you never doubt yourself in your relationship because there’s really so much that you do for him, and he’s worried that he doesn’t tell you enough.

“You listen to my worries. You create a space for me to talk about them,” he continues. “And you give good advice. That’s taking care of someone, too, you know? Because if my mind’s a mess, how would I function?”

“That’s true,” you finally smile.

It takes you back to last Saturday and how you both spent the day at your apartment because he didn’t feel like doing much. He talked about an issue he had with a senior teacher and some other concerns about his students. You just listened to him and shared your thoughts while he laid on your lap, and he told you the next day that he felt better.

Safety, friendship, and intimacy are needs after all, and you suppose they’re what you’re able to give him.

“I told my parents that I’ve been confiding in you and that it’s been easier to do that since we got together,” he adds, wanting to make sure you don’t feel unworthy when meeting them again. “And they know you watch my students’ matches and they think that’s really sweet.”

“Well, I don’t feel that worried meeting them as your girlfriend anymore,” you giggle, appreciating what he’s doing.

He’s just always known how you are and how to calm your mind.

“You shouldn’t. They already like you,” he smiles.

“And my parents already like you, too,” you say. “I’ve told them how you give me massages and piggyback rides and how you cook for me. I mean, not like they have anyone to compare it to but… I guess that says a lot, too, doesn’t it?”

“So does that mean they’ve never met your exes?”

“Just over video call but that doesn’t really count,” you shrug. “There wasn’t really time to see them and I was a bit shy. I’m so babied in my family and they’re also a bit chaotic and I wasn’t ready for my exes to deal with all that.”

“Well, you kinda have no choice but to introduce me now because of the wedding.”

“True. I still would’ve though. But I’m also really excited,” you say as you caress his hand. “They’ll see that I got someone really good.”

“You think they’d expected Tae or Jimin as the friend you’d end up with and not me? They like the guys a lot,” he remarks, remembering your calls to your parents in the past and how they lovingly greeted your friends.

“Not really. They’re just more familiar with those two,” you explain. “When they’d call me during college and I was crying out of stress, Tae or Jimin would be with me so they knew how much the guys took care of me then.”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t there,” Jungkook says regrettably.

“Because you were stressed, too! Just like Mo-eum because you both took difficult courses,” you reason. “You know I’ll always be thankful for how our relationship happened, right? And that includes our friendship. We were there for each other whenever we could.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just… don’t want them to wish it was someone else with you since you’ve got other good guys around you.”

“Well, I’m with you. I don’t think I can have anyone better,” you smile.

You lean over for a kiss on his cheek and this appeases him.

You’ve already been on a call with your family a few times since you started dating Jungkook, which is about two months ago. It may seem too soon but you don’t recall feeling this kind of joy and desire before.

Maybe because you let yourself settle into it first for those first few weeks and when you found out he reciprocated your feelings, it was just that natural for the emotions to intensify again.

Your parents already like him. They think that being a teacher requires a kind of dedication and patience that you need in your life, and you know they’re right.

But that’s just one part of him. Outside of what he does, he’s kind and tender-hearted and enjoys what life has to offer. It hasn’t been long but you’re already experiencing more of those sides of him as well.

You’re looking forward to seeing them see you with him; you’re certain they’ll see how different it is this time, too.

You get through the four-hour ride with more laughter and stories. There’s silence in between those, too, and neither you nor Jungkook minds. Your voices are just replaced with soft touches and tender smiles and those are enough just the same.

You finally arrive in the hotel in Busan and make your way to reception to check-in. You meet Jimin and Mo-eum there who have just arrived, and you all leave your things at the concierge so you can proceed to the restaurant for the pre-wedding dinner.

You head to the table where all your friends are and excitedly greet them, hugging Taehyung tightly as you miss him terribly already.

It’s like you’ve all been spoiled this past year. Jeju wasn’t too long ago and now you're out of town again. It’s different this time because of the purpose of your trip and the fact that you’ll be experiencing luxury this weekend, a far cry from the outdoors and homey vibes of the previous months.

You get to relax and feel regal, enjoy the amenities, eat fancy food, and savor the view of the ocean from your bedroom. You almost wish you could afford to stay an extra day or so but staying at Jungkook’s family home is definitely the better choice.

While waiting for Seokjin and Hayoung, you take the time to greet the other guests who made it tonight. Your and Jungkook’s families will be arriving tomorrow before the ceremony so you take him with you when you greet your cousin’s parents. Having known your friend group for years, they tell you how happy they are that you ended up with one of them, too, just like their daughter.

You return to your seats and enjoy dinner with your friends. The food boasts of familiar flavors presented in new and delicate ways. You have fun with how you eat them and join Jungkook in raving about how delicious it is. You drink champagne and inhale the dessert that when it’s all over, you feel full and satisfied.

“So, jacuzzi in half an hour?” Jimin pitches to the group.

Taehyung had booked the hot tub for after hours, and the five of you got excited at having the space all to yourselves. The rest of your friends agree to join. Even if they won’t be dipping, they won’t pass up on drinks with a view tonight. It’s literally Seokjin’s and Hayoung’s last hurrah with all of you so they say they’ll follow later on.

As is the tradition, you book a suite to house the five of you. This time, however, it’s pretty clear who’s sleeping with who.

You and Jungkook enter the room with the queen-sized bed and you turn to him excitedly. He picks up the hint of desire in your eyes and he pulls you in, his hands on your waist now as he admires how you look in your floral dress.

“What are you thinking tonight, huh?” He smirks.

“Hmm, nothing… Just a big comfy bed, a nice shower, a stunning view… A few things we could enjoy,” you say, playing it coolly.

“Yes… if you’re awake,” he teases.

“Hey,” you smack his chest.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, kissing your cheek. “I’m just saying that I know you’re tired from today. If you fall asleep early, that’s okay. You should get rest because we have a full day tomorrow.”

“I know. I’m actually already sleepy,” you laugh. “But I want to take advantage of this fancy room with you.”

“We will,” he smiles. “Come on, let’s get changed.”

You both put on your swimsuits and head out to the common room. It’s spacious and boasts of a floor-to-ceiling glass window that lets you see the still ocean and city lights from outside. The five of you take a shot of tequila that Jimin brought with him then bring that to the jacuzzi room several floors above.

It’s not the best weather for a hot tub. It’s warm as it normally is for the middle of summer. But there’s something about being in a private area on the 20th floor of a fancy hotel with bottles of champagne and whiskey and plates of food that makes it perfect for tonight. There’s soft music playing and given the size of the tub, everyone decides to join in. Even Yoongi.

From the hot water, to the jets on your legs and back, and to Jungkook massaging your neck and shoulders, you feel totally relaxed. There’s laughter all around, even more when you all rehash memories of Seokjin and Hayoung over the years.

There’s commentary from all your ends, too, especially from the older ones who’d witnessed their relationship up close. The couple shares their favorite moments from the past six years, too, like when they first said I love you and how they made up after their first big fight.

It reminds you that there’s still a lot to learn even when you’re already in a relationship. It’s something Hayoung has talked to you about, as someone who understands what you’re experiencing. It may seem all good and easy because you think you know the other person so well already after being friends for many years but romantic relationships bring their own challenges; no couple is immune from those.

But like she said, it’s the strong friendship she has with Seokjin that allowed them to get through them. It’s a good foundation, she told you. Being able to just talk about things openly, being comfortable and honest, and trusting that they want the best for each other have become natural, and those have been their keys to making it work.

They’re good advice, as you think that you and Jungkook are still in the honeymoon stage. One day, you know the hardships will come. Maybe you’ll have to readjust to each other all over again or witness the births of new versions of yourselves, just like he’d told you before.

But deep inside, they’re challenges you welcome because you know they’ll make you better together and you truly want to make this work, a change that you took note of early on. Plus, you genuinely like Jungkook - not just as your boyfriend or your friend but as a person. You truly admire and think the world of him, so whatever you’ll face, you’d willingly go through them with him, as long as you get to keep him around.

You don’t think you’d do that just with anybody.

“You okay, babe?” He nudges your shoulder as he notices you gaze at him again.

“Yes. Just thinking about how much I like you,” you smile at him.

Jungkook smiles back, as he’s already used to you being like this just two months in. He’s usually a lot more reserved and moderated when it comes to expressing his feelings, as he tends to just feel them, whereas you’re more vocal about yours.

There have been days when he’d see you stressed or frustrated at work but you’d sit on his lap, hug him, and tell him that having him next to you already makes you feel better. There’s this vulnerability in your honesty, and it’s something he’s witnessing up close.

While you’ve told him you admire him for just doing whatever he wants, he thinks you’re just as admirable for feeling whatever you want and there’s so much strength in that. He realizes he might not tell you this enough.

“She’s so cheesy, isn’t she?” Jimin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, as the man - who’d heard your little exchange - approaches both of you.

“She is,” Jungkook hums as he pulls you between his legs and wraps his arms around you. “It’s pretty cute. Was she always like this?”

“Nah. Not in front of us, at least,” Jimin shakes his head. “I guess it makes sense because we weren’t the biggest fans of her exes.”

You laugh at the dig, which you don’t mind; Taehyung and Jimin have valid reasons.

“Hmm, I don’t think I was this cheesy,” you confirm. “I think I’m like this because Jungkook and I have had conversations before, hoping that the other person would find someone good for them to be with and look, it’s us!”

It’s quite serendipitous in its own way, you think.

The three of you giggle and Jungkook tightens his hold around you.

“I’m glad it was you,” he whispers in your ear, prompting you to lean against his chest at the feeling of floating because of his words.

“He’s so affectionate, too, huh?” Jimin smirks now.

“Oh, he is,” you giggle again, as you think back to how tightly he hugs you when you sleep and how he likes to pull you back to him when you wake up. “Has he always been like this?”

You’ve obviously seen Jungkook with his girlfriends and you don’t recall him being this touchy. You wonder if he’s like that even if he’s just with the guys.

“Not at all, not even with his girlfriend in high school or the one during the summer before college started,” Jimin laughs. “I know he’s clingy behind closed doors though. At least that’s what he says.”

“Oh, he is,” you exclaim, earning you a cheeky laugh from the man in front of you.

The man behind you groans though, but now he wraps his legs around you, too. You feel the giddiness at knowing he doesn’t want to hold back when it comes to his affection towards you.

Jimin watches his two best friends with such tenderness. He has a different relationship with both of you - he’s gentle with Jungkook whereas he gives you tough love.

But he knows sincerity when he sees it, and after seeing both of you go through your respective relationships, Jimin can tell that it’s very different this time. You’re both more in control over your feelings even if you don’t hold them back. Perhaps it’s the maturity at this stage in your lives or maybe, it’s really just about finding and choosing to be the right person for each other.

Your best friend’s eyes glimmer and you see the smile behind them. And cheeky as he may be sometimes, you’re glad he made that comment to you months ago that got you paying attention to your feelings and that ultimately got you Jungkook.

The night goes on with a few more drinks and laughter with your friends. Whenever you and Jungkook separate, there’s always a moment where your eyes meet and you share a smile. There’s that assurance even until now, reminding you of this past year and how you’d be apart and somehow you’d find him looking out for you.

You end before midnight and head to your respective rooms. You and Jungkook take turns washing up in the bathroom and staying in the common area with your friends. With a bit to drink and a long day tomorrow, you all decide to head to bed.

“Goodnight!” Jimin calls out to you. “Don’t break the lamp or something.”

You stick your tongue at him before entering your room. Jungkook pulls you by the waist. He flushes you against his chest and tucks his head in your neck.

“It’s a fair comment, though,” he hums, referring to what Jimin had said. “I mean, you did break my humidifier.”

“Yah!” You smack his arm that’s wrapped around you. “I didn’t break it. It fell.”

“Sure, babe,” he giggles. “It totally fell out of nowhere when it was sitting right in the middle of my bedside table.”

You groan in agreement, conceding now because that may have been what actually happened. It was two weeks ago and Jungkook was yapping about it the next morning while you were on a call with your friends and they pieced things together. They’ve been teasing you ever since.

“Uh, you were the one shoving your frikkin dick inside me!” You defend, turning around now to face him.

“Uh, you were the one telling me not to stop,” he counters.

“You’re annoying when you’re cocky,” you frown at him. “No kisses for you.”

“Hey! I’m just stating facts,” he laughs.

But you pull away from his hold to tease and lay on your side of the bed. The soft sheets and thick covers instantly make you feel like you’re being swallowed by clouds; you could fall asleep any minute.

“K,” you hum under your breath, your eyes fluttering close.

“Are you sleeping on me?” He gasps.

“The bed feels so good, Kook,” you moan as you stretch your limbs. “I’m gonna fall asleep soon so get your ass in bed now.”

“So impatient,” he bites back with a smile.

He removes his shirt then switches off the lamp. Your eyes follow him when he does, and you’re thankful for the sliver of light from outside that allows you to appreciate his body. You’d done that during your time at the hot tub earlier and you think you’ll keep doing that; your reaction will probably be the same every time, too.

He finally lies in bed but you’re the one who sits up now. You take your shirt off, something he’s used to you doing by now, and he returns the fond way you’re looking at him.

Even when he’s annoyingly cheeky, his body pretty much shuts you up, and he knows this. Your body does the same to him. You laugh in unison because both of you have come to know each other like that.

You bend down to kiss him, not at all able to resist. It’s soft and gentle, as the exhaustion from today continues to weigh you down. But even then, his tongue explores deeper, and you’re hypnotized by the way it does that your body moves on its own.

You’re on top of him before you know it - your legs on his sides, your one hand softly pulling his hair and the other, grazing his bare chest. And your clothed cunt, rhythmically grinding against his slowly hardening member. His fingers trace patterns on your back, leaving you moaning in his ear.

And also yawning. You think it’s out of pleasure though.

Jungkook chuckles as you pull away, hovering over him with your dazed eyes. You yawn another time, and your face tenses as you try to hold it in. He can tell there’s more you want to do but he also knows you’re very, very sleepy.

“Hey, go to sleep now,” he whispers.

“But—”

You’re interrupted by another yawn, causing him to giggle once more.

“Babe, it’s okay. I want to keep going but I’m sleepy, too,” he assures you. “We’ve had a long day and I’d rather have you awake when we swim in the morning than do anything else tonight. Yeah?”

You pout at him before nodding. You did promise him you’d swim with him in the early hours tomorrow.

He helps lay you back down and pulls the covers over you. He smiles while watching you slowly retreat into dreamland, soft hums and a small smile escaping you as his fingers continue to trace your body. He briefly cups your breast and he knows you like it. You’ve told him a few times that the drawn out pleasure helps you fall asleep and this is one way he does it without tiring you out further.

He presses soft kisses down your jaw then your neck and your body reacts again. You caress his head as he trails south, and you moan his name. He might’ve gone a bit too far so he goes back up and gives you a final kiss on the lips.

“We’ll sleep now,” he hums.

He lays on his side and pulls you close to him, your back flushed against his chest now and his leg wrapped around you. Your hand finds his and your fingers intertwine.

It’s intimate, and even with your hair all over his face, he likes this because he gets to hold you tight. It also ensures that you don’t hit anything, including his face.

He laughs at the thought. It’s something he’d gladly get used to though. And he finds that it’s easy - to adjust, to move around and alongside you, and to settle into you even more.

You wake up to soft kisses on your cheek the next morning. You moan under your breath, wanting more of those but also wishing you have more time to sleep. You knocked out once you closed your eyes last night and you feel like you didn’t move at all.

Which, of course, isn't true. When you open your eyes, you find yourself sprawled in the middle of the bed and the giver of your kisses is standing next to it, chuckling at you.

“Good morning, princess,” he greets. “Come on, let’s go swimming.”

You look at him with your sleepy eyes and hope for a bit of compassion. Perhaps five minutes more. Or 20.

And he sees right through you.

“You can sleep longer, it’s fine,” he smiles. “I can go ahead before it gets crowded. Is that okay?”

“No, I told you I’d go with you,” you mumble.

You did say you’d do this with him, especially after he let you drag him to your Pilates session last week. He decided then that he’d definitely stick to the sports he knows and that won’t get his limbs all tangled while hanging in the air. You reason that his body is just a little too fit for the machine and you may be right.

“Okay then,” he says as he changes into his swim shorts.

“Why do you have so much energy?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs around the bed now. “It’s barely 7:30.”

“I just came from a jog by the beach. The wind was really nice and cool.”

“Oh, good,” you nod, appeased that he gets to do the things he enjoys doing when he’s in his hometown.

He returns to standing next to the bed and you lift your leg for him to massage. Your legs have been a bit sore after this week’s intense Pilates workout. He starts kneading your calf and it feels so good that you could fall asleep again.

“Yah! We have to make it to breakfast at 9 before we prepare for the wedding,” he reminds you. “Come on. I’ll be wet and half naked. I know how much you like that.”

You frown at his teasing even if it’s pretty much a given at this point. But he’s started to enjoy it a little bit more after your friends exposed you to him. They shared more details of how you were during your Jeju trip, specifically about your ogling whenever he went swimming.

It flusters you even if you’re actually able to just admire his body and touch and kiss it whenever you like. Perhaps there are still remnants of disbelief over how you never bothered about it before. Years of going on beach and lake trips, watching him flex his biceps, and commenting on his abs to tease him never made you look twice nor longer than a few seconds.

Now, you can’t get enough of it.

You curl yourself in bed, urging him to convince you a bit more.

Instead of kissing you, he starts tickling your foot, causing you to squeal.

“Jeon Jungkook, you brat!” You groan as you try to kick his hand away and flail your arms while still lying in bed. “You’re gonna regret this.”

Your words don’t have bite in them, but still, he stops and pulls you towards the edge of the bed. He cups your cheeks and peppers your face with soft kisses until you’re finally smiling.

“Happy?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You giggle and nod.

“So can we go now?”

“Yes,” you playfully roll your eyes then head for the bathroom.

You change into your swimsuit then you both exit the room. Out in the common area, Jimin and Taehyung are waiting to leave, too.

“So early and already getting freaky,” your best friend smirks. “Hope you didn’t break anything.”

“He was tickling my foot!” You explain; they definitely heard you squealing.

“Ooh, he’s relentless with that,” Taehyung shakes his head as he understands your plight.

He’s been on the receiving end of that, after all.

You eye your friends who are in their active gear as well. Taehyung will do a morning workout while Jimin is dragging Mo-eum to go for a run.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask your best friend. “You know she’ll stop once she sees a plot of land to find four-leaf clovers.”

“I know, but she promised she'd match my pace,” Jimin shrugs. “She just didn’t wanna be the only one not doing anything physical today.”

“She technically won't be. I mean, I don’t think that watching your boyfriend swim counts as physical,” you hum.

“Are you sure about that?” Jimin cocks his eyebrow. “Your heart rate literally heightens just seeing him in swim shorts.”

Jungkook chuckles because he can attest to that. Sometimes you also just completely zone out.

You groan because you also agree. You turn to the man next to you with a pout.

“You’re not good for my health.”

Jungkook just laughs even harder and your friends join him. You do sound ridiculous.

But he thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the world. You already expressed concern about ogling him too much in front of his family, not wanting them to think you’re a little too much for their son, but he assured you that they’d feel proud you think so highly of their genes.

With you being shameless in front of your friends, he sees even more just how unfiltered and honest you are about your feelings towards him, and it makes him feel really good.

He pinches your cheeks, endeared by how you look at him, until Mo-eum finally exits the bedroom and you all head out then separate to do your own thing.

You and Jungkook find yourselves on the 7th floor this time to swim in the infinity pool. You stand in awe as you look at the scenery of stunning landscape against tall buildings that line the vast ocean. It’s definitely a lot more urban than Jeju but it offers a different kind of tranquility that you feel you can only get from here.

You now understand why Jungkook was insistent on swimming despite your tight schedule. It’s truly breathtaking, especially with the clear skies and cool breeze embracing you. He even passed up on sexy time last night just so you wouldn’t be too tired for an early wake up call.

He sighs in relief as he stands next to you, no doubt admiring his surroundings just as you are.

“Such perfect weather,” he hums as he removes his shirt. “I haven’t had a proper swim outdoors in so long.”

“Well, get going then,” you turn to him, eyeing him up and down while trying your best to keep your cool. “There are barely any people so you won’t be disturbed.”

“Hey, you said you’d join me,” he pouts.

“And I will, after you do your laps,” you smile, knowing that he needs to do those before doing any leisure swimming. “I’ll have a good view from the lounge chairs here. And then a closer look later on when I’m in there with you. I’ll soak up the sun first before getting in the water. It’s more refreshing that way.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Don’t bail on me, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” you smile.

“And uh, try not to drool too much.”

He’s running to the one end of the pool before you could respond. But you watch him from a distance exchange words with the lifeguard on duty then turn to your direction to give you a cheeky wink before he dives in the pool.

Your annoyance at how he’s been enjoying teasing you quickly dies down once you watch him glide in the water. He’s so graceful, as he does butterfly strokes so effortlessly, his broad shoulders and taut arms doing most of the work that you can see, but you know his thighs are working overtime, too.

Your eyes follow his every move and he’s so captivating like this, especially with the sun glistening on his honeyed skin. You don’t doubt the kind of career he would’ve had if he pursued the sport. You’re sure he would’ve excelled and made it to the national team if he wanted to - he’s just that good, and it’s something that others have said about him, too.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him if he went to a different university, and that’s a thought that terrifies you. Maybe you’d still meet him at a chance encounter if the universe willed it, but you think the way you ended up together is exactly how things should’ve happened.

He returns to where he started and half his body emerges in the water. He turns to you with a smile and a thumbs up. You return the gesture and make a show of cheering for him, earning you a chuckle.

He does a few laps of freestyle while you settle in the lounge chair. You still have a good view of him but you’re able to do so comfortably now with a little less lust and a lot more admiration.

By the time he’s doing backstrokes, you’ve moved to the stairs where you’re already in your bathing suit, ready to join him. He swims towards you and walks up the steps, your eyes now following the water that’s dripping down his torso.

“I didn’t drool,” you tell him proudly.

He playfully shakes his head and chuckles.

“Cute,” he hums.

He reaches out his hand and pulls you towards the water, and once you submerge yourself in it, you moan quietly at how refreshing it feels. You quickly swim towards the other side and lay your arms over the edge to get a better look at the view.

You sigh in relief at how beautiful it is, even more with Jungkook beside you who has a bit of sparkle in his eyes. He grew up not far from here, and he shared during the drive how his family would often head to Haeundae beach on a weekend. He’d enjoy it despite how busy it could get. This is his childhood, and you’re glad that you get to share in this moment with him.

“You know Kook, I was just thinking earlier that if you chose to do this professionally, you would’ve been such a star, skills-wise and looks-wise,” you say as you turn towards him.

“Yeah?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“Totally. And then I imagined you being part of the swim or water polo olympic team and showing up on TV with your wild abs and sweet smile and social media would explode with edits and thirst tweets about you and then you’d be invited to variety shows and be on magazines and get endorsements,” you ramble. “Imagine if you decided to pursue that now? I’d be the kind of girlfriend who’d be cheering so loudly during your matches and maybe trash talking your opponents.”

He laughs at the last sentence but he thinks you’re not wrong.

“I think you’ll be the type to have a burner account and reply to tweets criticizing me,” he hums.

“Oh, I’d do it on a burner and my personal account,” you state. “Imagine how much I could shut them up?”

“You could,” he laughs. “But they’re also either paid to do that, or are bots and aren’t real people.”

“And then I’d hire hackers to find those shits and message their parents and expose them online,” you continue, disregarding what he said. Your face distorts in anger at the thought that he’d get any hate if he really did pursue a different career path. “I mean, who in their right mind would criticize you?!”

“You’ll never know,” he shrugs. “People always find something to complain about other people they don’t know. But hey, it’s a good thing neither of us have to deal with that, right?”

“True. We live such humble and unproblematic lives away from prying eyes,” you nod. “But… have you ever thought about it? About the kind of life you would’ve lived if you decided to take swimming seriously?”

“Hmm, not really. It’s not like being part of the Olympic team was assured, anyway,” he reasons. “And it just… stopped being a dream. Once I started teaching, I was sure I wasn’t gonna regret doing it. Somehow I just knew that’s what I was meant to do, you know? Plus, it meant going to our university, meeting the friends I’d have for life, and getting together with you. I’d choose those in any lifetime.”

You smile at his words, knowing that it’s not just him being sweet or flattering you; they’re his most sincere thoughts. But you’re glad you made it to the top three things that make his current life worthwhile, knowing that he could be living a totally different one had he chosen to study somewhere else.

You think it’d still be a good one though - he’d be doing something he loves and he’d be making amazing friends since you think he just naturally attracts good people. Maybe he’d be dating someone who deserves him, too.

But this is the one he’s living now and considering how much you’re a part of it, you think it’s pretty good. It makes you think of the billion choices a person makes in their life. We never know if they’re right or wrong but we stand by them, and they make us who we are.

You wonder if you chose to join your sister in her art classes after school instead of reading your textbooks while waiting for her to finish, would you have been less studious? And would that have made you less inclined to be a researcher? Then maybe you wouldn’t be living the life you have now, and there’s a chance you wouldn’t have Jungkook in it, and—

A kiss on your lips disturbs your thoughts, and Jungkook’s soft eyes look back at you when you look at him questioningly.

“Whatever it was you were thinking, just know I’m glad I’m with you the way I am right now,” he says.

He probably already sensed your mind going elsewhere as it always does and instead of asking you where it went, he chooses to assure you about what you mean to him. And it’s exactly what you need.

You hug him in response and ease your mind back into the present with pecks on his cheek. He’s who you should be focusing on right now, so you foolishly suggest a race between you two just for fun even if you know you’re no match for him. You secretly like it when he’s a bit cocky.

Jungkook laughs but agrees to your 20-second early start. He leans his back against the edge, endeared by your movements and the fact that you’re freestyling diagonally, before he starts swimming to eventually beat you.

You feel like you’ve been at it for so long and you pause, thinking that you’re only a few meters away from the end, only to learn that you’re just past halfway, and Jungkook is already on the other side, laughing at you.

But instead of teasing even more, he urges you to keep going, cheering you on as if you’re competing at a tournament. So you do.

You keep swimming that you don’t realize you’re at the end, and you hit your head on the wall because you arrogantly chose not to wear the goggles that Jungkook advised you to use.

“Oh babe,” he chuckles as he swims towards you, and it’s now you realize that you started swimming sideways somewhere along the way.

He cradles your head in his arms before turning you to face him.

“You’re always hitting your head when you’re around me.”

You know he’s alluding to that boat incident in Jeju, something that he occasionally teases you about, especially after you gave him a lowdown of the thoughts that plagued your mind during that afternoon.

You pout at him in response to his smug face, and he scrunches his nose in endearment. Then he pulls you in a hug and kisses the top of your head that you just hit. He thinks you could’ve gone another few hundred meters, and you’re really not as out of shape the way you say you are.

The fact that you’re able to swim the entire length of this massive pool already says a lot even if you’re a bit out of breath. He knows you’re neutral about swimming - it doesn’t excite you as much but you don’t mind it.

Waking up early to join him already makes him feel good, even if he knows you prefer just watching him do his thing, but even that makes him feel hot all over. He’s not sure when he’ll get used to your reactions to him and he’s noticed you try to temper it. He hopes you never do, though, and it’s not for his ego or anything; he just likes being the cause of your intense emotions and desire.

You and Jungkook spend the next 15 minutes leisurely swimming about before lounging on the chairs to dry up. But then he orders a burger then decides to go for one last lap, with you whining that he’s gonna drip all the way to your room and you don’t have time for him to dry up all over again.

He insists that it’ll be fine, and while he does leave some droplets in the elevators all the way to your bedroom, he manages to not make much of a mess.

Your friends are back, too, and they’re all taking turns in their shared bathroom to wash up before heading for the breakfast buffet. Jungkook hints at joining you in your shower, but you put up a strong front and say no.

“Kook, the last time we took a bath together, we took up an hour,” you remind him. “It’ll take us longer together than if we did it separately.”

“Well…” he smirks at you, clearly reminiscing about that time and the different ways he took you in the shower.

You were in Gangwon for a field visit one weekend and decided to spend the night, and after telling him, Jungkook took the train to meet you so he could spend it with you. The bathrooms in your apartments aren’t spacious enough for you two, but the one in the hotel you stayed at was. You ended up requesting a late checkout the next day because you took a bath longer than you should have, just like the night before.

Much as the thought excites you - somehow he looks even hotter when he’s wet from a shower - you’ll be pressed for time. You don’t want to end up stressing the rest of the day just because you were horny.

“Tonight,” you promise him as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“And if you’re too tired and end up falling asleep again?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“I won’t!” You try to convince him. “I want to make the most out of our last night here because we are definitely not gonna be able to do as much once we’re at your parents’ house.”

“Well, we could always just book a room in a less fancy place for our last night,” he suggests.

“Kook, your parents invited us. They sounded really excited,” you remind him.

“They are,” he smiles now. “They asked me for your favorite food yesterday because they were in the market. I said you’re easily satisfied like me. They also cleaned my room and dusted all my awards because they wanted to brag about me to you.”

“Ugh, they’re so cute,” you groan, your cuteness aggression now extending to Jungkook’s parents because they truly are adorable.

He smiles and kisses your forehead. He knew that suggesting taking a bath together would push it but it was worth a try. He’s not upset one bit; just being with you in his hometown is enough to make him happy. And like you said, there’s always tonight. The last time you and your friends had a night out, you were unable to resist him and ended up confessing your feelings.

“Go take a shower,” he says now. “I’ll just mentally prepare myself to meet your family again.”

“It’s my nieces and nephews you have to be worried about,” you warn him. “Once they find out what you do for a living, they’re not gonna leave your side.”

Jungkook laughs and says he’ll prepare for that, too. Seokjin had mentioned that not long ago. The kids have grown up and are never out of energy. They recently got into sports, too, and are in that phase where they wanna try and learn everything. It’s good for their development for sure, but that just means constantly asking your family and extended family members to play tag or whatever else their creative minds could think of.

But he’s ready for that. He’s got your family to impress and an athletic image to uphold. He also just really wants to see you smile because that’s what you do when those kids are happy.

“I’ll make sure to stretch before meeting them, then.”

You giggle before entering the bathroom, knowing that Jungkook doing prep work before meeting your nieces and nephews might be a bit too much.

You savor your bath time and run today’s schedule in your head for the nth time. It’s all straightforward but you want to make sure you get to properly celebrate with your family and friends. You wipe yourself dry and call out to Jungkook to let him know that he can start in the shower while you do your skincare but you’re left with no response.

You wonder if he’d left the bedroom so you open the door, only to find him doing pushups next to your bed.

“Oh. You were serious…” you say, as your eyes take their time in watching your boyfriend push himself off the floor, with his taut arms and broad back hypnotizing you.

“It’s the last part of my workout,” he informs you, as he stands up and wiggles his eyebrows at your staring. “I do this all the time. But I did stretch earlier so I’m now physically ready.”

You burst into laughter. “Kook, they may have so much energy but they’re still just kids.”

“You forget that I work with kids. Half an hour with the year ones and I’m already spent,” he reminds you. “Plus, Seokjin told me about that one time he and Hayoung took them to a kid’s cafe and he gave up 15 minutes in. He said they kept going from one game to another and he got so tired that he fell asleep in the sandpit.”

“True. I mean, they’re gonna need a new victim since Seokjin will be busy tonight,” you hum. “You’re actually the one with the most patience.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright then. Finish your stretching then take a shower.”

“Will do now,” he says.

He hums under the gush of water while you fix up at the nearby vanity. He walks over to you soaking wet, and you groan at him for drenching the floor again.

“Just wanted to remind you what you missed out on,” he smirks, as he wipes himself dry beside you.

“I pride myself in having self-control, excuse you,” you bite back.

“Alright. Let’s see about that later,” he laughs mockingly before walking out, clearly still teasing you as he doesn’t even wrap himself with the towel.

It’s just his toned ass and delicious thighs, slowly disappearing from view.

You pout at yourself in the mirror but then again, not like there’s anything to complain about.

He returns to your side in his boxers now and starts putting on moisturizer. Wanting to always hit him back, you remark that the bathrobe is too heavy so you remove it, leaving you the one completely naked this time.

Jungkook doesn’t react for the first five seconds. But once he finishes putting lotion on his arms, he immediately stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. It’s kisses on your back and torso before you know it, and you squeal in an attempt to reprimand him, but even he knows you’re enjoying it.

“What’s the point of not taking a shower together if you’re just gonna do this anyway?” You whine.

“The point is that we’re dry.”

“That does not make any sense,” you groan, as you watch him continue to kiss you while you remain unmoving.

You eventually concede though, because anytime Jungkook expresses his desire for you like this, you can’t help but feel warmth. Which is actually quite comforting.

“Okay now I’m starving. For actual food,” he says. “Let’s go!”

Both of you finally get dressed and walk with Jimin, Taehyung, and Mo-eum to the hotel restaurant. The rest of your friends have already taken their seats, so you join them and pick your spots.

Namjoon and Hoseok apparently worked out this morning, too, and when you ask Yoongi if he’d just gotten out of bed, he nonchalantly says that he and Gyu-rim went for a coffee run earlier. He blinks rapidly right after then quickly looks away before saying that he’ll just get more of the noodle soup at the buffet table. Gyu-rim excuses herself to go to the comfort room and heads the opposite direction.

You and your friends look at them then at each other, curious as to what might’ve happened.

“Okay, it’s either they confessed during their little coffee date or one of them almost did then chickened out so now it’s awkward,” Jimin suspects.

“It’s highly likely that’s Yoongi because he only ever gets cold feet when it comes to Gyu-rim,” Hoseok fondly says.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” You say. “It’s Gyu-rim, she–”

You pause, as nine pairs of eyes look at you questioningly. You’re unsure if Gyu-rim told anyone else about her feelings for Yoongi and you don’t want to do it for her.

“She’s so chill, you know?” You say instead. “Nothing really fazes her.”

“You can say the same for Yoongi but not when it comes to Gyu-rim,” Seokjin hums. “I mean, I’d know.”

Seokjin would, and that’s either because Yoongi’s his best friend, or he knows exactly what Yoongi’s feeling because it’s probably the same as what he felt. But you don’t push and instead let Namjoon remind everyone to not meddle. It’s always more exciting that way, he reminds you all, even if it could also get frustrating.

You continue with your two plates of food as Yoongi returns followed by Gyu-rim. It’s not long after when Seokjin and Hayoung excuse themselves to start getting ready. Your older friends and Taehyung follow soon after to help them, so you’re left with Jimin, Jungkook, and Mo-eum who continue talking about the other potential relationship in your group.

You watch in entertainment as Jimin and Mo-eum bounce off their observations, and you remark that this is what they were probably doing behind your and Jungkook’s backs.

“Oh, totally. We’d even do it while you’re in the bathroom or something and then change topics when you return,” Mo-eum hums as she chews on her rice cake. “Like, remember when you were whining the weekend after Jeju because Kook got tasked to chaperone for a school trip so he couldn’t go to your apartment?”

“Oh god,” you shake your head, and you all quickly get into narrating how your respective conversations went.

It’s funny in hindsight, knowing now that Jungkook was missing you the way you were missing him. You still felt upset that time, though, and you don’t want to feel that frustration ever again.

You finally finish your meal and head to the lobby to meet your family who just arrived from your town in Gwangju. They’ll be checking in early, and you wanted to make sure they were settled first before you started preparing yourself.

It’s warm greetings when you see your parents and they excitedly hug Jimin and Mo-eum. When it’s Jungkook’s turn, your mother beams even more, and she engulfs him in her arms and sighs, as if in relief.

“Oh, Jungkook. What a lucky woman our daughter is,” she smiles. “We won’t ever have to worry about her starving or not eating delicious food.”

“Ah, well, she’s not hard to please,” Jungkook chuckles, earning him a pout from you. “But I’m… I’m just glad I get to take care of her.”

“What a sweet man,” your mother gushes, and you nudge her and warn not to scare him away. “She needs that. She’s too busy saving the world and has to be reminded to look after herself, too.”

“She does,” Jungkook smiles. “But she’s been doing well in that regard. It helps when you’ve got good people around you.”

“Of course,” your father says now. “You’re all so lucky you have each other. And that both of you ended up together. Seriously, it’s such a relief. You’ll understand it if you become a father - you’re constantly praying that your children find good and responsible partners that they’ll spend their lives with and so there’s this nervousness every time they introduce someone. We’re lucky that her siblings found them and well, you’re the first one that ___ has properly introduced as her boyfriend and we’re just relieved that it’s someone like you. We adore your parents, too, so whew, no in-law drama and–”

“As you can tell, I got the rambling genes from him,” you interject, earning you laughter from your friends, especially Jungkook who scrunches his nose in entertainment.

“Not obvious at all,” Jungkook chuckles.

But your father’s smile softens and this means a lot to you, too. Your parents were never the type to pressure you into getting married right away, only because you established early on that your career is very, very important to you. Finding a partner is something that could be delayed, or even given up if it was your choice.

But it doesn’t mean that they don’t hope that you find someone who would accept you for all that you are, including your dreams for yourself, because they do. It’s something they tell your siblings, which they tell you, so you’re glad you can appease your parents this time.

Jungkook is the type you’d proudly introduce to your family. Even if he can get a bit shy sometimes, like now, as his hand searches yours once they ask him about work and other things. You adore your parents; they could just get a little overwhelming sometimes. You suppose it runs in the blood.

You thumb his hand in assurance, and he seems to calm down a bit once he talks about his students and what he teaches them based on the year level. He also talks about the extra-curricular activities he organizes for the school. It’s something he’s proud about but he doesn’t get to always talk about it this way, so you’re glad he’s able to share this with your parents. You suppose they have more reason to want to get to know him like this and you don’t mind, not when they seem really impressed, too.

Your chat is interrupted with the front desk staff saying that their rooms are ready and your nieces and nephews entering the lobby after playing in the playground right outside. Your brothers already look tired and it’s not even lunch time.

You say your goodbyes for now as they head to their rooms and you return to yours. You and Mo-eum hog your bathroom so you both could do your makeup while Jimin and Jungkook play video games outside, even with your constant reminder for them to get ready soon.

You get dressed with Mo-eum in your bedroom then let Jungkook in so he could dress up, too. His breath visibly hitches at the sight of you, and you shyly smile in response.

But there’s nothing to be nervous about, not when you look the way you do in your sweetheart gown. He’s seen you in formal looks many times before but not like this, and not since he started liking you, which he reminds himself was barely a year ago. There are still so many things that will feel new or different this time around despite having known each other for so long.

And that includes seeing you look so stunning that he can’t help but sigh in amazement.

“How do I look?” you ask, turning around to show him the entirety of the dress, which also happens to be low-back.

He doesn’t really have the right words for it, but he takes your hand and kisses it.

“You look really good,” he says under his breath.

You settle with a nod, unable to control your smile with how visibly affected he is, especially as he pulls you closer and softly kisses your bare shoulder. That itself leaves goosebumps on your skin; you can’t wait to know how it’ll feel later on.

You turn towards the closet to hand him his clothes this time. You help him when you can, and you learn that Jungkook, too, looks breathtaking in formal wear, especially with his thin necktie and the white dress shirt that beautifully hugs his toned upper body.

He heads to the bathroom to style his hair while you attempt to put on your heels, and not only are you unsuccessful, you’re also left speechless once Jungkook appears before you. It’s the slightly parted hair, you think. You decide that this slick, confident style is the mature look; you’d take this over his leather jacket any day.

“How do I look?” He dares ask, as if your ogling doesn’t say enough.

“Do you want the G-rated answer or the X-rated one?”

He laughs in response, truly never ready for what you have to say.

“Hmm, what about you tell me the G-rated version now,” he hums as he bends down to help you buckle your heels, “and then you can show me the X-rated answer tonight?”

“I can do that,” you smirk, slightly lifting your dress to show a bit of leg as he finishes with your shoes.

He helps you stand up and you fix his necktie before smiling at him.

“You look so handsome, Kook. Seriously. I might have to pull you away from the kids if they hog you later.”

“Hey, I’m gonna need to be in their good graces, too,” he chuckles. “But I’ll just be near you, okay?”

“I was just teasing. I think,” you say. “But hey, it’s Seokjin and Hayoung’s wedding. We have to enjoy it. Don’t worry too much about my family because they already like you.”

“As if you’re not wanting to impress my parents, too,” he teases.

“Oh god yeah. Please make sure I don’t do anything stupid in front of them,” you start to panic. “I might ramble about your amazing genes and how they conceived you so perfectly.”

He laughs again.

“Well, they won’t be at the yacht party so you can let loose then. Just don’t… hit your head or anything again, yeah?”

You playfully roll your eyes before opening the door and he follows behind. You smile at Jimin in his adorable bowtie and Mo-eum in her classy strapless dress and ask for their help to make sure that you don’t embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook’s parents.

“Hmm, I don’t think they’d mind if you do,” Jimin hums as you all walk down the hallway. “I think it’ll assure them that you’re not presenting yourself to be someone perfect for their son, only to end up betraying him.”

You sigh at the thought.

“And hey. Kook really, really and I mean, really likes you. That’s the only thing that matters to them.”

The four of you separate once you arrive at the 15th floor. Jungkook and the guys head to Seokjin’s room while you and Mo-eum squeal once you enter Hayoung’s suite. She’s already made up and there are several more photos taken before she gets into her dress, which Gyu-rim and Suhyeon help her wear.

It’s not long before you go to another room on a different floor where Seokjin and Hayoung finally see each other. It’s also where their families will greet them before the ceremony starts.

There are lots of tears and so much squealing throughout the whole hour that it happens. Seokjin’s rich family members are mostly humble and have a good sense of humor whereas your entire clan is a little too energetic. It’s definitely not balanced out but you end up laughing for most of it because there’s always a joke or remark that makes it through the crowd.

But you see Seokjin always turns to Hayoung, his eyes softening as he watches his bride enjoy the moment just like he is, just like how he always tells her to. There’s so much trust and promise in the way he looks at her, and it’s the kind that’s built over time. It may seem a bit too early but you hope you and Jungkook get to that point one day.

“They’re so cute,” Jungkook whispers in your ear amidst all the chatter. “Who would have thought that the corniest guy in the world could have the softest smile?”

“Well, he’s looking at the love of his life,” you say. “That’s reserved for only her.”

Jungkook nods in agreement and looks at his friends. Behind all the jokes and the contagious laughter is a man who’s truly so in love, and Jungkook is happy he gets to witness it.

Your time eventually comes to an end and you’re all escorted to the large balcony where cocktails are being served while the bride and groom remain for more photos. You take one sip of champagne before handing it over to Mo-eum once you see Jungkook’s parents, who happen to be talking to your parents, too.

They greet you with the warmest hugs and gush at how you look. You’re left feeling a bit flustered at the compliments and respond with the G-rated version of what you think of their son’s outfit.

Both your parents have met each other many times and they talk just as any couple friends do. There’s a lot of praising each other’s kids and you thank the heavens that they get along early on. Jungkook’s parents even talk about your stay at their house tomorrow and your parents take this opportunity to invite the Jeons to your grandparents’ farm. You come up with possible dates and agree to firm up the plans in the coming weeks.

Not long after, all the guests are asked to head inside the hall for the mid-afternoon ceremony, and you separate from your parents to sit at the round table with your friends at the front.

As expected, the guests erupt in cheers and applause once the bride and groom are revealed behind the large doors. They look so perfect together, and you at least get to gush with your other cousins about how Hayoung copped herself a truly handsome guy when she proclaimed she was going to be a nun when she was a teenager.

The vows end in tears, as Seokjin surprisingly goes into serious mode and expresses his most sincere emotions that surprises even his best friends.

“This could've been left in a letter that I’d be reading to you tonight but I want everyone to know that I will love you in words, I will love you in action, and I will love you with every breath,” he says, as he wipes the corner of his eyes. “I’ll always be thankful to the chickens that chased you and had you yelling and laughing like crazy because that’s when I knew that I liked you. Your laughter changed my life, Hayoung. And I hope to never live a day without it.”

It’s a special moment you all share. It’s the first wedding in your friend group; they also happen to be the couple that you all look up to and seek comfort from. The emotions spill over to the speeches that Namjoon, Taehyung, Suhyeon, and Hayoung’s sister make.

Before you know it, the newlyweds are walking out the hall for a change and you’re all buzzing from what just happened. The reception commences soon after, and it’s delicious food after delicious food that’s served that gets you and Jungkook jumping in your seats and moaning to yourselves.

The socializing bit begins and you take the time to catch up with your other cousins. It’s midway through one conversation when you realize you haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. You look around the hall but eventually find him out the balcony, racing with your nieces and nephews. They squeal in disappointment when they lose and in excitement when they almost win, and while they take turns to go ahead, Jungkook’s the one who runs solo.

“Five-minute break,” he yells, as he heaves while walking towards you.

You hand him a glass of water and chuckle at how he obviously is quite tired but is still willing to go a few rounds with the kids.

“What have they asked you to do?”

“Well, other than running, we’ve raced by hopping and jumping on one leg,” Jungkook answers. “They wanted to crawl, too, but I used the adult card for that one and said no.”

“They spend a lot of time outdoors so they come up with a bunch of different things,” you laugh, already used to them and their different games.

“As they should,” Jungkook hums. “Which is why I’m going along with it. I mean, they’re at a wedding. It’s an event for adults. What else are they supposed to do?”

“Hmm, that’s true. But thanks for keeping them company,” you smile. “You deal with kids enough at work and now you’re doing that here, too.”

“Because it’s fun!” He beams. “Plus, So-you asked me if I’m your boyfriend because I keep kissing your cheek and she’s never seen anyone do that with you so she’s a little protective. I need her on my side.”

“She’s a little too smart for her own good. I told her once that I don’t really wanna have a boyfriend so she’s quite sus with me,” you laugh. “But she’ll come around. She loves the water so if you teach her how to swim, she’ll be impressed.”

“That’s already on tomorrow’s agenda,” Jungkook says. “One of your uncles told them I’m a swimmer and they got excited. They already told me to meet them at 9 sharp and that they’ll tell your parents if I don’t show up.”

“Bunch of brats. I love them so much,” you chuckle. “Well, there goes our Sunday morning.”

“At least it’s not too early. We can stay up tonight,” he smirks.

“Well, we won’t if you’re the one who uses all his energy and falls asleep right away,” you point out.

“Oh, you know better than challenging me like that.”

You actually do, which is why you did. He’s gonna want to prove a point and he’s sexy when he does. You’re unsure if he’s caught on that you like challenging him so he’d do what you actually want him to, but he does it anyway.

Before you could answer, Haneul is yelling that five minutes is up and that the jumping jacks race is about to start. Jungkook, truly wanting to prove himself to them, removes his suit and hands it over to you.

You watch in amusement as he makes his way across the covered path, jumping up and down with his arms swinging over his head. The kids are shrieking while he heaves, but they cheer him on. At this point, some of them, tired from all the running and screaming, are already seated on the bench next to you, giggling.

“I don’t even know why Jungkook is doing this,” you chuckle as you watch him win the race.

He’s not even letting them win as a courtesy.

“He’s in a competition with So-you,” Ha-yul says of her cousin.

“What competition?” You ask.

Your 8-year old niece merely shrugs and wraps her arms around your waist and continues to watch on. Knowing her, she probably knows what they’re competing for but you don’t prod. Jungkook will probably tell you later.

You instead ask her about her family’s recent trip to Jeju and she beams with joy once she talks about the dolphins she saw swimming in the ocean.

“They look so magical, auntie. Even from afar,” she smiles. “Did you see them when you were there?”

The question sparks a memory. A very special one.

“Yes, I did,” you gush, recalling how you wanted to hold Jungkook’s hand then because of the overwhelming beauty of nature and the exhilaration of accepting your feelings for him. “It was so pretty.”

“Did you see them with anyone?” She asks, looking up at you now.

“Yeah. I was with him,” you reply, gesturing towards the man who’s somehow ended up teaching the kids how to do a high kick.

“Are you sure you were even looking at the dolphins?”

You turn to Ha-yul with her doubtful eyes and crossed arms.

“Yes, I was, you smarty-pants,” you chuckle, pinching her adorable cheeks. “Jungkook was the one who told me about them so we went to this spot to watch the sunrise and then the dolphins showed up right after.”

“Hmm. That’s very sweet,” she replies, slowly smiling. “I like him for you, auntie. He makes you smile a lot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” You giggle, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the thought that even your niece can see it. “I like him for me, too.”

You eventually go back inside after feeling a bit hungry despite all the food you ate earlier. You yell for Jungkook to follow you, knowing he’d want to munch on something after the series of physical activities he just did. Your nieces and nephews fortunately drain their energy and run towards the hall, too, and you overhear them tell their parents that “uncle Jungkook is so cool!”

You gush at him, knowing that he achieved his goal of impressing them, though you don’t think it would’ve been difficult. He’s natural with kids and you got to see that today. It’s even more special to you because they’re your family - people you love and adore, and it means so much that they accept him.

Even your cousins seem to like him, too. One of them talks to Jungkook about teaching, another about swimming, and another about taekwondo. The conversations move to sports in general, and then video games, and then music and their favorite beer and whiskey brands. You leave them alone, not wanting to cling to Jungkook’s side the entire time.

So you hang out with your siblings while your other friends stay nearby. By this time, the number of guests has started to dwindle. The ceremony and reception are long over but there’s still lots of food and drinks being served. The sunset yacht party for close friends and family will start soon, and you’re all just waiting for the go-signal to start heading to the port.

You walk towards the bar for a glass of soda when you stop in your tracks at a sight that you didn’t think you’d see. There by the counter is Gyu-rim, giggling shyly and Yoongi, chuckling, too, while he pulls her close to him and whispers something in her ear. She laughs once more then their hands slowly move down, their fingers grazing before he places her hand firmly in his.

Your jaw drops and you blink multiple times to make sure it’s real.

It is. And you seriously want to scream in excitement.

But you scurry back to your friends instead.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” you catch your breath. “It’s happening!”

“What’s happening!” Mo-eum rushes to you with a slice of cake in her hand.

The rest of your friends slowly gather around you and you direct their sights to the bar where Yoongi and Gyu-rim are still definitely being all shy and affectionate.

“Who is it?” Jimin asks, squinting his eyes to try to see what has all of you gasping and freaking out.

“Gyu and Uncle!” You squeal at him.

“What! Wait, I’m blind!” He groans.

And just as you’re about to tell your best friend to be subtle, he’s already off near the bar to get a closer look, and his own gasps alert the pair that you’re all onto them.

But Yoongi just turns to your table and raises his glass in both confirmation and celebration.

And Gyu-rim just smiles. She’s no longer just doing it internally, that’s for sure.

They eventually walk towards your table and you can sense the restraint your friends have in bombarding them with questions. Except for Jimin.

“How! When!” He goes on. “I manifested this. I envisioned this. I prayed for this! When did you–”

“Coffee. This morning,” Yoongi answers.

“So did you two just look at each other and then have a silent understanding of your feelings?” Taehyung wonders.

“Sorta,” Gyu-rim hums. “The distance between us just kept getting shorter and then he… uh, he just held my hand and I held it tighter and then we just… I guess, kinda knew.”

“How on brand,” you remark.

“Yeah, just like your confession,” Jungkook, who suddenly appears next to you, whispers in your ear.

“At least I confessed first,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Then why were you awkward during breakfast?” Mo-eum asks the pair.

“It was fresh,” Yoongi shrugs. “And we weren’t sure how to act without you guys freaking out.”

“We were still talking about you though,” Jimin informs him.

“I’m sure you started it,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Of course I did,” Jimin winks.

“So why now?” Taehyung asks. “What pushed you to finally confess?”

“I didn’t wanna waste any more time,” Yoongi sighs.

“And I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Gyu-rim pipes in.

“And well, I was thinking about those two,” Yoongi adds, his gaze turning to you and Jungkook now. “There are lots of things going on in our lives. I could be one serendipitous encounter away from letting her get away. I don’t really think I could live with that.”

“Gosh, our impact,” you whisper to Jungkook after softly smiling at the new couple.

He just wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He’ll always be glad that things happened the way they did with both of you, and he’d go through a decade of friendship and periods of distance and confusion if it means having you like this.

You all continue to gush and talk about all that happened today until you’re told that you can now head to the port. You’re transported in coaches then you make your way to the large yacht where there’s more food and drinks, hanging lights, and a saxophonist serenading the minimal guests.

There’s less squealing this time with the kids left behind in the hotel. It’s more relaxed now, as the many lounges offer so much space to enjoy the scenery, the almost cool air, and each other’s company.

You and Jungkook constantly get separated, with your relatives pulling you over to them every five minutes. You can’t complain though, as you really don’t see them as much, but you also wish you could have more time to be with your boyfriend, perhaps hold his hand as you socialize, or gush at how he looks because he truly is so beautiful tonight.

But somehow, you find your way to each other once the sun starts to set. Between the purple and orange sky, the calm waves, and the jazz music, it’s a moment that you’ll truly treasure, especially with Jungkook’s arms around you, his chin tucked in that space by your shoulder, humming in amazement.

You don’t really need words for this moment. You just pull him closer to you and kiss the side of his face when you can, an act of extreme fondness and desire that you could offer him right now.

The dancefloor opens up and Seokjin and Hayoung are the first to slow dance. People soon follow, including you and Jungkook, whose hands just don’t want to separate from you. You feel quite overwhelmed and opt to gently lay your head on his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat and the full warmth of his arms around you. You know it’s where you’ll always want to be.

His soft kisses on your head give you a kind of assurance that’s quite emotional. It’s as if he knows how much you feel and how deep you’re thinking and he’s there, not quieting your mind but encouraging it. It’s acceptance and respect that you don’t think you’ve ever felt with anyone before.

The music turns lively not long after. The drinking continues, too, leaving some guests in a rather unfiltered and perhaps wild state, including your friends.

There’s Jimin, Mo-eum, and Taehyung dancing around like always. There’s Hoseok with his now half unbuttoned dress shirt, not too subtly grinding with his girlfriend in the corner.

Then there’s Namjoon, yelling “fuck the government” towards the ocean, and Yoongi has to remind him to tone it down because he’s part of the government, and well, he’s a future public figure so this behavior might not be a good look.

“I’m thinking of quitting my job, actually,” Namjoon admits. “I’ll just have my own podcast and name it ‘the professional yapper’ and talk about all the things that fuck us over. And crabs. I’d like to talk about crabs.”

“Who hurt you?” Gyu-rim asks.

“I… I’m drunk,” Namjoon heaves.

“We know,” several of you say in unison.

But this is when his body starts to shut down. After releasing all his pent up anger, his energy drains and he gets sleepy. He doesn’t want to sit down, knowing he’d fall asleep and it’ll be difficult for anyone to carry him off the boat, so Jungkook stays by Namjoon’s side to make sure he doesn’t fall on the floor or into the water.

It keeps your boyfriend away from you again though, as he follows the older man everywhere, even outside the bathroom. But you don’t mind. Jungkook’s taken care of your friends during times like this and you know he won’t stop just because of you.

It’s already dark once the yacht returns to the port. It’s barely 10 PM but you’re full and exhausted. You’ve had a long day and you just want to have a nice bath like you promised Jungkook and well, do a lot more.

Jimin, Mo-eum, and Taehyung don’t want their night to be over yet so they head to the hotel bar to eat and drink some more. They don’t miss the chance to tease you and Jungkook about having the suite all to yourselves though but you run with it. It’s not like your desire for each other is a secret or something you suppress when you’re with your friends.

So you and Jungkook head back to your floor and once he enters your bedroom, he immediately climbs on the foot of the bed and lies down. With his loosened tie, he undoes another button of his dress shirt and releases a deep exhale.

Even you feel his tiredness from that one breath.

You stand by the window and just watch him, his arms and legs straightened out and his eyes closed. You take the time to admire him like this. His body’s breathtaking even with clothes on, and you let the X-rated thoughts fill your mind.

He mistakes your hardened gaze for annoyance, as he apologizes for lying on the bed with his day clothes. It’s one of your biggest pet peeves, and you once had an argument because he was tired from work and wanted to cuddle but you wouldn’t let him stay next to you on your bed until he showered. It was more of a banter, really, but you did sense his frustration when he dragged himself to your bathroom then slept right after lying on your side.

He sits up now and scoots to the edge of the bed.

“It’s okay, Kook. Rest there if you want to,” you assure him. “I don’t blame you, considering you were the cool uncle and the great friend tonight.”

“Those kids are relentless,” he chuckles. “And Joon is so heavy; it was a struggle getting him off the boat.”

“Well, he has a lot of angst to release but I’m sure he’s glad you helped him.”

“Yeah, but that meant I didn’t get to be with you much today,” he pouts now.

You smile at his sullen expression, as the realization that you spent much of the wedding being with other people hits him. Sure, you had dinner and the sunset viewing and that slow dance but with everything that happened today, it still doesn’t seem enough.

So you walk towards him and slightly lift your dress so you could sit on his lap. He shifts you around so you’re snug against him and he smirks.

“So you’re not mad that I lied on the bed in day clothes?”

“You were at the foot of it so it’s fine,” you wave him off. “That could be our compromise.”

“Okay then. So… will you show me the X-rated version of your thoughts now?”

You gaze at him - at his sparkling eyes and soft lips and chiseled jaw and think this view of him will always leave you breathless. The fact that you have this beautiful man wanting your attention blows your mind and you truly wish he’ll never get sick of you.

You bite your lip and nod before kissing him deeply, not holding yourself back now since you’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon. He returns your eagerness and moans against your mouth. He grips your waist and pulls you closer to him in an effort to eliminate whatever distance is left, which is none. You’re chest to chest now but that still doesn’t feel close enough.

Soft moans fill the room and your pleasure continues to build, especially with Jungkook grazing his fingers down your semi-bare back before slowly pulling off the straps of your dress. It triggers something inside you, as you now fiddle with his necktie, desperate to get it off.

You manage to untangle it and quickly undo the buttons of his shirt. He lets you do it on your own while his hands travel to the edge of the bed, and you feel him smile in the kiss that hasn’t stopped.

You finally remove his top then move to unbuckle his belt. Briefly pulling yourself from him, you eagerly undo his trousers and start pulling it off. He watches you from his seat on the bed while you bend down, and you cock your brow at his smug face. He looks like he’s really enjoying this.

“You letting me do all the work?” You tease.

“For now.”

You know what that means. And that just gets you more worked up. So you immediately undress and watch him watch your every move until you’re back on his lap, both of you now completely naked.

Your kisses turn even more heated. His grip on your waist tightens, and your nails on his shoulders dig a little deeper. You catch your breath and let him kiss down your neck, his teeth merely grazing your flesh, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

Your hand travels south, too, until they reach his hardened dick and you’re overwhelmed with an even more intense desire for him and everything he is.

You want him so bad, you think you’ll explode.

Jungkook feels you grip his length and grunt as your tongue flicks his lips. This is usually your tell.

“Let me just get the co—”

“No,” you interject, pulling away as you look at him with now wondering eyes.

“I… uh—”

“Well, do you want it inside you, at least?” He asks, gesturing towards his member that you haven’t let go of.

“Yes, I just… I just want it naked. Is that okay?”

It takes a few seconds for it to fully register to him what exactly you mean.

“You’re asking me if I want to be inside you without a condom?” He asks incredulously.

“Well, yeah. You said you’ve always used one,” you say.

“It was a precaution for a bunch of things,” he reasons. “And well, given what happened with the last girl I dated, I’m glad I did. But you said you’ve always used one, too.”

“Same reason,” you shrug. “But I really, really like you, Kook. And you’re so hot. And I hate the taste of latex when I suck you after.”

“Those seem like valid reasons,” he chuckles. “You feel really good even when I wear one so it doesn’t matter as much.”

“Yeah but, I don’t wanna do this with doubts or hesitation,” you sigh. “And I don’t wanna gatekeep.”

“You don’t wanna gatekeep… your vagina?”

“Yes. You say it’s really good down there. You can have all of it.”

Jungkook laughs out of amusement. You truly are unfiltered and bizarre sometimes but still very endearing.

“That’s your vagina though,” he reminds you. “I’m just a visitor.”

“And you can visit my coochie without clothes on! Like you’re free. Plus, you’re the only one who’s going in there so why not?”

He laughs again at your allusions and pulls you in for a hug.

“You drive me crazy, you know? And in the best way,” he says softly.

“Thank you for that clarification,” you pull away and giggle.

“So uh, shall I visit now?”

“Gotta prep you again first,” you gesture towards his flaccid dick.

“Oh. That won’t be hard,” he smirks.

You both burst into laughter but he does clarify that he’ll indeed get hard again; he just couldn’t pass up on the pun.

Jungkook softens at the look you give him. There’s this gentleness in it like always but it’s a little different this time. It's filled with even more trust. Perhaps appreciation and gratefulness, too? You often thank him for listening to all your thoughts and he gladly would. Everyday.

He loves that this is something both of you can easily talk about, which isn’t even the first time. And that just like him, you don’t want any reservations or doubts in your relationship. There’s so much clarity that he feels for you in such a short amount of time that he’s been with you and he doesn’t even question it.

Just this intimacy with you is everything he wants - there’s pleasure and intense desire but there’s playfulness, too. There’s warmth and comfort and that’s what being with you is like.

You gaze at each other with such yearning that it immediately turns into a heated kiss. You catch your breath and his mouth travels to your nipples, expertly lapping them up, causing you to tilt your head and moan. He takes the chance to kiss down your torso, leaving you panting once he makes it to the side of your waist, an erogenous part he recently discovered that he takes advantage of.

You return to kisses and your hands explore his chest before they grip his now hardened length. You moan at the feel of it, then thumb his tip before you lift yourself up and slowly slide down.

The sensation is different and you know he feels it, too. He hums and curses under his breath, pulling you close to nibble your neck while you grind against each other.

It really does feel liberating in an odd way, Jungkook thinks, just because he feels everything. You clench around him and it has him moaning.

This is the time when he does all the work, as he shifts you around to lie on the bed and you know it, too, biting your lip in anticipation for how hard he’s gonna go.

But he wants to focus on your pleasure first, so he dives down your cunt and kisses you in all the places he knows you like. He meets your eyes and hums to himself in satisfaction, knowing how much you’re enjoying this.

Once he feels your slick on his mouth, he gets on his knees and aligns himself with you, spreading your legs so he can get a good look of that naked entrance you were talking about.

You both moan once more, and Jungkook pushes in and out, familiarizing himself with the feeling that he knows he’ll keep having. You feel even more amazing like this; he just hopes he can keep it together and make this last longer.

“You okay, babe?” He pants.

“Yeah. It’s just like Pilates.”

He laughs again, having accepted that you’ll always have something fascinating to say even when he’s balls deep inside of you.

But he quickly gets back to that hypnotic feel, especially once he flushes your legs against your chest, allowing him to thrust into you intensely at a different angle.

You’re definitely not yet flexible enough so you’re a bit overwhelmed, but you let him chase his high just as he let you do so earlier with his skillful mouth and focus on the way he feels bare inside you. He knows how to use his beautiful dick and not to be cheesy, but it feels pretty special that no one else has ever felt him like this.

His thrusts start to get erratic and you know he’s close. He pulls away, pulls out, then pumps himself repeatedly until he’s spilling his seed on your torso. The pure look of pleasure and exhaustion on his face is so sexy, you feel like coming again.

He finishes and hovers over you, supported by his propped up arms with his damp hair and sweat dangling from his forehead. He’s panting and cursing under his breath as he pecks your lips, and you just watch him, enthralled by these little actions, knowing that your body made him feel that way.

“Let me just—”

He cuts himself off and walks to the bathroom then returns with a pile of tissues that he wipes you with. He apologizes as he does and you look at him softly, appreciating the gentleness and warmth on his face. He discards the soaked tissues and plops down next to you.

For a brief moment, you just look at each other, as if words aren’t enough to express what you want to say. It’s not just about the sex or the pleasure you both get from it. It’s not just the lust that courses through your veins and the desire for more.

It’s that feeling of security, you think to yourself. It’s falling quickly from cloud 9 but knowing you’re not gonna crash because not only is he there next to you, holding your hand while you fall, he’s assuring you that it’s not gonna hurt. The fall isn’t the kind where that happens.

Not like it’s some fairytale you’re in - although it might very well be - but there’s this trust that you both know what you’re getting into, that you know what you’re doing, that you just want to do what makes the other person happy.

Because that’s what you want. With Jungkook, you’re not chasing the high or some elusive happiness because you’re living it already. It’s in your grasp and you’re filled with it.

He smiles and you smile back. You snuggle close to him and softly kiss his lips. You want to repeat over and over again how much you like and adore and want him but it doesn’t feel enough so you settle for a hug and a bite of his cheek just because.

Jungkook chuckles and settles in this position next to you with caresses on your bare shoulder. He’s thinking of all that he feels for you until he hears your soft snores and he laughs again.

You catch yourself and ask him if you fell asleep.

“Wow, you’re tired?” He teases.

“Shut up. Pilates makes me tired. What more this?”

“Fair enough,” he hums. “Let’s have a bath then. It could help you relax.”

You immediately agree and get off the bed. You clean your face then prepare the tub, splashing in some bath salts and lavender oil. He stands next to you naked, looking every bit handsome that you can’t help but kiss him again.

He still shivers at your touch and that urges you, as your hand once more wraps around his length and desire overtakes you once more. You start bending down and Jungkook knows what you want. He stops you for a bit and grabs one of the small towels from the sink and places it on the floor, right where your knees are supposed to be.

You get back to it immediately and the absence of the taste and smell of latex is so satisfying. It urges you to do more. It’s perhaps the best suck you’ve given him and the sounds he makes spurs you on. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good for you.

You let him come in your mouth this time and the long exhale he makes lets you know that you did well. It’s the same time when the tub gets filled, and you both go inside, moaning at the feel of the warm water all over your tired bodies.

It’s quiet for a while. You suppose you’re both just soaking in everything, familiarizing yourselves with the silence and the fact that you get to enjoy this fancy bathroom where you can do whatever you want.

But Jungkook is the one who cuts through the sound of the bubbling water.

“You were so pretty tonight,” he says with his deep voice.

You scrunch your nose and smile, giddy at his compliment and the sincerity in which he gives it. Even after all you’ve done in just the past hour, this is what gets you all shy and giggly.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You, well… I’ve told you both versions. But it was nice to see you being with my family, Kook. I know you’re usually shy around new people but you looked so natural with them. I really appreciate you trying.”

“I’ll admit, I was a bit nervous,” he chuckles. “You talk about your family a lot and you’re their baby. I wanted them to see that I’m good for you, you know? That I can take care of you because I’m sure that’s what they want for you.”

“That’s actually what one of my cousins said as they were leaving,” you smile. “And that my grandparents would’ve loved you.”

“Yeah?”

“She said you would’ve been a big help at the farm,” you chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jungkook smiles. “I know that they put Seokjin to work that one time. He said he’s glad he was prepared because his uncle has a farm, too, but that was tough work. And it was worth it. They were charmed by him at the end.”

“It would’ve been the same with you,” you say, reminiscing about that trip from long ago.

Seokjin and Hayoung were dating for just three months when they visited your grandparents. He’s lucky he got their approval then. Two years later, your grandfather passed; your grandmother followed a year later.

But Jungkook got to meet them years before that as your friend and that still means something. Regardless, you think they’d adore him, too, if they were still around.

He smiles and kisses you. It's an affirmation he welcomes, and it’s one he got today from your entire family, especially from his biggest critics - your nieces and nephews.

You return Jungkook’s kiss and moan once his one hand travels to your clit and the other fondles your breast. It’s the perfect place for this, and you sigh in his hold with your back flushed against his chest as you anticipate reaching your peak.

And you do, with his expert fingers fiddling away while his tongue swirls in your mouth with such intensity. You crash from your high engulfed in his arms, and you really can’t ask for anything more.

You stay like that for a while longer before heading to the shower. You fool around again that by the time you finish, you’re worn out and eager to sleep.

“You’re waking up to go swimming with me and your family, right?” Jungkook asks you after you’ve turned the lamp off.

“Uh-huh,” you yawn, turning to hug him now.

His chest is taut and smooth and he smells like baby powder that you push your face against it out of sexiness aggression.

He laughs at you and accepts the new quirks you develop when it comes to him.

“Good. Let’s slee—”

You’re snoring before he could finish his sentence as he expected.

The perfect weekend may be halfway over but he’s loved every single moment with you. Including all the times you’d fallen asleep before he could even properly wish you goodnight.

You ask for a five-minute extension when your alarm rings the next morning but Jungkook isn’t having it.

“I might lose points from your nieces and nephews if I’m not down at the pool by 9,” he groans. “They made me promise. You can’t sabotage me like this.”

He pulls the cover off of you and you groan in response. You slightly open your eyes and find him standing beside your bed already in his swim shorts, arms crossed and looking impatient.

“They won’t do anything. You’re being dramatic,” you say.

“I’m being cautious,” he argues. “Come on, babe.”

“Fine,” you frown, getting off the bed and walking to the bathroom.

He follows you there and kisses your neck to get in your good graces and it works. You’re that weak for him and he knows this so he takes advantage. Sometimes you pretend to be angry or uncaring just so he’d butter up to you but his eye rolling and smirk tell you he knows exactly what you’re doing.

You finally get in your bathing suit and head to the indoor pool where the kids cheer when they see you and Jungkook. You think they’re excited because he promised to teach them how to swim this morning.

“You weren’t that excited when I taught you,” your cousin, Hae-dal, whines.

She was a competitive swimmer once upon a time, too.

“But you’re not a teacher, Ma,” Ha-yul says. “I couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

“She’s got a point,” you tell your cousin.

Once Jungkook starts teaching them how to do the basics and guiding them with their strokes, she concedes.

You didn’t really plan on swimming today but the kids dragged Jungkook and he couldn’t bail on them. He still would’ve come though; he really wanted to try the hotel’s indoor pool and you don’t blame him. It’s huge and fancy-looking. There’s an area for kids, too, so teaching them is easy. You watch him manage six excited children who all want his attention and like you expected, he’s able to give it to each one.

“He’s such a natural,” Hoseok’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn and see that your friends and their partners are here, too, and are heading to the adult pool. You wave your greetings and signal that you’ll go to them later.

“He is,” you respond to your friend. “I never noticed it before.”

“Would you have liked him then if you did?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing,” you hum. “I wasn’t in a good headspace for years and I probably would’ve screwed us up.”

“And he probably would’ve fought to keep you.”

“You think so?” You wonder. “If I hurt him, then I don’t deserve him.”

“Only if you intended to, but we all know you wouldn’t. Not to him. And that’s because you’re a good person, ___. I hope you’ll never forget that.”

You look at Hoseok, a man you’ve known for years and someone you’d seek advice from every once in a while when things are tough because of how wise he is, so he knows your fears and your worries well.

He knows you’re afraid to disappoint people, that you don’t want to hurt the people you care about. And even as you’d told Jungkook last night that you want to continue with your relationship without doubts and fears, somehow this affirmation from Hoseok is something you also needed. And you wonder if it stems from a conversation he might’ve had.

He reads your mind, as he says that he, Jungkook, and Yoongi were chatting last night while making sure Namjoon didn’t fall over the yacht’s railing.

“Kook was just talking about not wanting to fail you. As a partner and as a friend.”

“Did you assure him that he wouldn’t?” You ask.

“I did. And I reminded him that he’s a good person, too, and hurting you isn’t something he’d just do.”

“Seems easy to say, huh?” You laugh dryly.

“People can fight and have misunderstandings and not hurt each other. That’s… kind of what a mature relationship is,” Hoseok advises. “I know you’re on the cusp of something really great - if you’re not there yet - and I thought that reminding you that you’re capable of having genuine, long-lasting and gentle and intense feelings for someone would help. Because you are, okay? Kook’s really happy that he gets to be with you.”

You smile and think that it’s indeed a good reminder. You and Jungkook have been on this honeymoon ride of laughter and playful bickering the past two months and this weekend has turned out to be a beautiful dream, too.

You feel so much for him and you don’t want to one day be overwhelmed by it that you start to doubt if you’re built for something enduring, like you want your feelings for him to be.

You told him months ago that you’re both good people who’ll find other good people meant for you and that you deserve. And both of you have. It’s quite serendipitous - all the times you comforted yourself at the thought that the person meant for you is just somewhere around, he’d been next to you all along.

“Thanks, Hoseok,” you turn to the man next to you. “I’m not surprised if Yoongi and Gyu-rim turn to you, too.”

“Oh, they already have. And it’s barely been a day,” he laughs. “And I say the same thing - they’re good people who deserve good things, too. And they’ve experienced so much that they know enough not to let go of the amazing things that come their way. But you and Kook - you’re like my babies. It makes me happy seeing both of you happy.”

“Well, I am. Very much.”

“And he is, too. But know that I’m just here, okay? We all are.”

You nod and hug him, assured even more that when things get tough, it’s your friends who'll help you and Jungkook find the way.

You finally head to the adult pool and greet your friends. By that time, Jungkook’s swimming lessons have ended, and he’s left the kids on their own to play around.

You dip in the water and stay close to Taehyung and Mo-eum while Jungkook does his laps. It turns out to be a spectacle, as your friends and family stop to watch him. He’s surprised when everyone erupts in cheers and he just laughs it off, content that he still has the skills to entertain, even if he’s certain that he’ll continue doing this for fun.

Swim time ends and you head to your rooms to wash up and prepare for an early lunch before you checkout. Your friends and family occupy several tables of the hotel restaurant and manage to not be too disruptive with how large your group is.

You fix your things and head to the reception then say goodbye to your relatives as they go back home. Your parents remind you and Jungkook about scheduling your visit to Gwangju and you promise that you will. Your nieces and nephews all take their time to hug your friends goodbye, especially Jungkook who they now say is their favorite uncle, a badge he says he’ll proudly wear.

It’s a short drive to Jimin’s father’s cafe where you and your friends go to for dessert, and he welcomes you all with your favorite cakes and pastries that have you jumping in your seat.

That’s where you separate. Seokjin and Hayoung go back to the hotel for another night before they fly to their honeymoon, Taehyung heads for the airport to return to New York, you and Jungkook drive to his parents’ house, and the rest of your friends journey back to Seoul. It’s goodbyes for now but the next lunch gathering is scheduled for when the newlyweds return and you can’t wait for that day to come.

“So, are you excited to go to my childhood home?” Jungkook asks as he turns the corner to his street.

“I’ve been to your house a few times before, Kook,” you remind him. “It’s nothing new.”

“Well, you’re going as my girlfriend this time. That’s a new experience.”

“What new experiences am I gonna have, huh?” You teasingly ask.

“Hand-holding under the table, hugs on my couch… make out session on my childhood bed,” he shrugs.

“Very tempting,” you say.

“And very doable. My parents might even gush and tell us that it’s okay to be affectionate because, uh, they’re not really used to that.”

“Hmm. Sounds good then,” you smile. “Can’t wait.”

The new experience turns out to include Jungkook’s parents telling their neighbors that their son has a girlfriend and that she’s very smart and beautiful.

Jungkook shakes his head in embarrassment, as the elderly couple were merely passing on their street and greeting them but his parents went ahead and bragged about you, which you actually think is quite cute. And a relief, because you were worried about what they thought of you. They’ve always been nice, but you want them to truly like you, and with the way they’re welcoming you into their home, you think they already do.

The new experience also includes being shown old home videos of Jungkook growing up, like his taekwondo competitions and trips to the beach. You’d seen some of his baby photo albums the few times you all went here as friends but there’s more this time, and you’re reminded of baby Jungkook’s chunky cheeks and perfectly round doe eyes.

There are photos of him being cradled by his mom and riding his dad’s shoulders and wearing costumes with his older brother. There are those from family trips and his kindergarten days. There are more of the embarrassingly adorable bowl cut hairstyle from middle school and the side bangs from high school.

That’s how you spend the afternoon - his parents and brother telling you all these stories, Jungkook covering his eyes in embarrassment and defending himself, and you, heaving from laughter.

They don’t even mind when you snort or say unfiltered things and that’s a comforting feeling. They look at you endearingly when you tell stories of Jungkook over the years and even recently, and you don’t miss the way his mom would sometimes touch your hand out of reflex and let it stay there.

She’s such a warm individual, and you feel that aura of comfort she exudes that Jungkook definitely took from her. She’s so bright and positive and you understand why she’s beloved by her students.

His father is very laid-back and slightly cheeky. He likes reminding you that it was Jungkook’s mom who confessed her feelings first because she found him very handsome, just like you did, and you see how Jungkook takes from his old man in that regard, too.

His older brother is quite introverted but has a good sense of humor, and you see why they get along so well, even if they insist it wasn’t always like that. But he seems very caring and attentive, and you’re reminded that Jungkook was raised by such good people.

You’re lucky you get to be part of this family, as what they say you are, with his mom insisting that you always were because of your decade-long friendship with her son but now, you hold a special place in it.

You continue talking with Mrs. Jeon and let her show you Jungkook’s awards cabinet while the men start preparing dinner, as it is in this household. Jungkook did tell you that this mom’s cooking isn’t the best so it was something they always did.

She asks you more about your work and takes interest in the research projects you did for child development. She asks about your college days, too, and how you and Jungkook were like back then.

You enjoy sharing about your life and your friendship with her son. You don’t know how much she knows but you talk about the past year and the trips you took and all the moments you had with him that turned out to be the serendipitous moments that brought you here.

“He really likes you, ___. Like, really, really likes you. I don’t know how else to put it,” she takes your hand and smiles. “He’s a lot more open about himself and he talks to us with this joy and calmness and we’re really happy about that. So thank you. If he does anything silly, let me know, okay?”

“I doubt he will but yes, Auntie,” you smile back. “I think this is the kind of thing that my parents will tell him, too.”

“Probably,” she chuckles. “But we’re parents, ___. At the end of the day, we just want our children to love and be loved. We want them to be happy. And that’s what he is when he’s with you.”

You bow in gratitude, as her words assure you. But love? It’s an exciting thought. You don’t know if it’s all too soon but you know where this whole thing with Jungkook is going, and it’s definitely heading there.

And just as your mind’s about to go elsewhere again, Mr. Jeon calls out that dinner is ready.

You excitedly walk to the dinner table and gasp at all they prepared. From the beef soup to the pajeon to the cold noodles and raw fish, your tummy rumbles in anticipation. And as you expected, everything is delicious.

You and Jungkook take turns in moaning and making these weird sounds you make when the food is good, and your shyness in front of his family slowly melts away. You talk more over dinner and even while you wash the dishes with his mom and then right after.

But you don’t stay up late, as you still have a long drive back to Seoul tomorrow afternoon. So you bid his parents and brother good night and take turns with Jungkook in washing up.

You’re exhausted by the time you’re in bed, your leg over his and your arms wrapped around his waist. You’re softly kissing his face as you both take in the silence and he asks you if you want to ride his bike with him and go to this famous spot to watch the sunrise.

“To relive that time,” he tells you. “I… I always find myself going back to that morning in Jeju.”

“Why?”

“It was so thrilling - riding with you for the first time, feeling what I was feeling but nervous to let you know… But it was also so grounding, I guess,” he explains. “I mean, sunrise, dolphins, scenery of a seaside town… It’s like all these pretty things, including you.”

You remember the feeling clearly. It’s not hard to forget since it felt the same to you. Perhaps that’s when you thought that you could really have the good things you dreamed for in the palm of your hands, and now you do. Seeing the sunrise again with Jungkook this time would definitely make that past sunrise and all the sunrises after that even more special.

“Okay,” you smile. “But you’re waking me up. Drag me out of bed if you need to.”

“I’ll carry you bridal style out this door if it comes to it.”

You giggle at his words but promise that you’ll wake up. You don’t want to miss it either.

“Today was nice, Kook,” you say after a beat of silence. “I think your mom finds me funny.”

“She finds you endearing,” he corrects. “She likes you. She likes you for me. And she thinks you really like me, too.”

“Hmm. I wonder how she figured that out. Is it because of the hundred times I called you handsome or praised you for a gazillion reasons or held your hand every time I had the chance?”

You playfully mock yourself even if you think you’re very transparent about how you feel. You truly think you can’t like Jungkook anymore than you already do.

“Possibly,” he laughs. “But also because your eyes sparkle when you look or talk about me. It’s kind of a big tell.”

“Imagine if you were half-naked and she caught me ogling at you.”

“Let’s be thankful then that the first time she saw us together, I was fully clothed,” he chuckles.

You nod in agreement and think the same.

It’s quiet again for a while and Jungkook meets your sleepy eyes. He kisses you and he feels your toes curl like they often do, and he smiles against your lips because like always, you’re not afraid to feel things for him, and you’re not afraid to show it.

He promises himself he’ll take after you. And then he can tell you everything he really feels.

You keep your promise and wake up when Jungkook taps your arm. He’s already dressed, and you appreciate how he always gets up first so you have more time to sleep.

You fix up and make your way out in the dark where his motorcycle is parked on the street since he’d really planned on riding around in the morning.

He reminds you of safety guidelines and tells you you’re free to hold onto him anytime, not like you need a reason anyway. He puts on your helmet and helps you up, then starts the drive to a nearby town to head to a spot he’s passed by so many times.

The ride is quiet, with only the soft breeze of the summer morning buzzing as you drive past houses and mountains. You see the coast and he tells you you’re near.

It’s still dark when you arrive but you can get a sense of what’s around you. There’s a walkway that leads to a church and behind it are massive rocks that jut out the ocean. There are some street lights the further you walk and you see the view that he’s talking about. The water is so vast and the boulders are flat and safe enough for you to sit at so you find a spot and sit between his legs, basking in the calmness of your surroundings and the warmth of the man who’s holding you.

“Do you come here often?” You ask, as light starts to dot the horizon.

“Not really. I ride past here sometimes but there are always many people in the morning,” he says. “The sun rises over this side so I thought it would be a good place to go. And well, it’s beautiful and we’ve barely seen it.”

“I already like it. You can just hear the waves crash against the rocks and it’s so refreshing.”

He hums in agreement and asks you how you slept. You talk about the short dream you had and end up talking about the other ones you remember. Jungkook laughs at your stories again and tucks his head in your neck when he does. He holds you tight and shifts around when he senses your legs cramping up.

The sky continues to lighten, as orange and red hues peek out of the ocean.

And then the sun comes and you hold your breath like always. It’s so breathtaking and it feels even more surreal being where you are. It’s another sight that you’ll ingrain in your mind knowing that this time, there’s so much more meaning to it. It’s as if you’ve really come full circle - from that hike up in Chungbuk to Jeju a few months ago to right now.

Jungkook went from someone who was just around you to someone next to you and with you, and you’re filled with so much emotion, just thinking of how you got here.

The sun’s taken its place in the sky and you hum in satisfaction. It’s another one of those daily occurrences that you get to witness and be a part of, and you have the most amazing person you know holding you.

You turn to Jungkook and find that he’s already looking at you. His eyes soften and you smile and he smiles back.

You’re so beautiful this morning, just like you are everyday. But he finds that everyday is a new kind of beautiful, and he wants to keep finding new things about you to gush about. Whether it’s a new pitch of your voice when you’re whining about something, a different reaction when he teases you, another fascinating thought you have, or anything else, really.

He wants to keep learning about and experiencing life with you. He wants to keep holding your hand and settling into this home that both of you keep discovering and enjoying. He wants to—

“Kook, are you okay?” You cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Jungkook sees your face change into one of surprise. It doesn’t worry him though. Even if you don’t feel it yet, you might as well be close to it.

“Is it too soon? Too late?” He wonders.

He at least doesn’t want to put you off.

You look at the man with the prettiest eyes and child-like smile and think that he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. To be loved by him is probably your greatest gift.

“Hmm, it’s actually perfect timing,” you say, gazing back to let him know just how much you feel, too.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking that I can’t like you more than I do now but I could. I could love you and I do, Kook. I… I really do love you.”

You’ve always been one to give in to your feelings and you feel them intensely. At this moment, it’s love that you’re filled with, and you feel it so much for the person in front of you.

He giggles and kisses you softly on the lips. You kiss him back then give him pecks on his cheek until he’s lying on his back and hugging you tightly.

It’s so freeing, as you listen to the ocean waves and the seagulls flying by and Jungkook’s racing heartbeat. It’s as if you’re able to feel all the comfort and passion you could possibly feel for someone and you want it to always be like this.

You settle back on your earlier spot and he wraps his arms around your waist again.

“So, uh. When you have the time, do you mind telling So-you that I won?” He says.

You look at him questioningly.

“I told you she cornered me after the ceremony and asked me if I was your boyfriend, right?” Jungkook starts. “So I explained we were friends and then we started dating and she asked if I plan on marrying you like her uncle Seokjin who was also just friends with her auntie Hayoung and well…”

“What!” You laugh, imagining your 10-year old niece interrogating Jungkook.

“Yeah and well, I said that we haven’t talked about getting married because we just started dating but that I love you so that should be a start,” he continues. “And so I got into this ‘who loves you more competition’ because she insisted it was her and while I understood where she was coming from, I couldn’t accept defeat and I insisted it was me. So we played all these games and your other nephews and nieces started playing along. I won everything but So-you didn’t want to declare me as winner.”

“Why not?”

“She said it’ll only count if I tell you. Because why does it matter if I love you if you don’t know that I do?”

“What a smart girl,” you laugh, thinking of how silly and incredibly adorable that whole exchange might have been.

“She is and she’s right. It matters that you know. And I wanted to tell you that night but I didn’t want you to think it was only because you let me enter coochie heaven naked.”

You laugh again.

“What about yesterday?” You wonder.

“I was going to, especially after seeing how good you were with my family but… I wanted to savor the feeling one last time,” he explains. “Just like when I liked you first and didn’t say anything, I just had these moments of feeling it all to myself and admiring you without expectations. And I get to release it all now and it feels really good.”

“You’re not too bad at expressing your feelings, you know that?” You smile at him, feeling overwhelmed and quite speechless at everything he’s saying.

“I try,” he whispers.

“I love you for it. And for everything else,” you assure him. “So maybe this beats the Jeju sunrise?”

“That was still special on its own. That version of us was trying to figure out if we could be each other’s home. This version…” he says, taking your hand for him to kiss. “This version knows we want to stay in this home for a long time.”

You let his words settle and pull his arms to hug you tighter. It’s all you need because he’s right.

You’ve settled into him, into this with him, and even into this version of yourself that embraces all types of emotions and basks herself in the love she receives and gives.

And as you spend the rest of the morning walking around town with his parents, and as you hold his hand while he drives back to Seoul, you think that he’s who you’ve been wishing for this whole time.

He’s the good that you hoped for and truly deserve, and you don’t think you could ever ask for anything more.

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