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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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The Rescue, Part 2: Nate’s POV

Remember how I told you there were two parts to The Rescue? I lied. There’s actually three or four, because Nate got chatty. Whoops. In any case, here’s the second part of the Rescue and how Nate got Danny away from Bram. Follows directly on The Rescue, Part One (may want to read that one first for context if you haven’t yet

Tagging @special-spicy-chicken, @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, and @whumpywhumper!

CW: The dog kennel makes a reappearance. Referenced/implied noncon, serious violence, blood, mention of dissociation/trauma

“I was m-mad,” Nate said flatly.

“Mad?” The detective raised an eyebrow, tapping her pencil on the yellow notepad laid out in front of her. “That’s it?”

“I was r-r-really mad.”

“Based on the drawing you made for us of what you keep referring to, it’s… clear what happened to Mr. Michaelson during the incident you say led you to plan an escape. So, I looked at the notes from the officer you initially spoke with… it says here that it wasn’t the first time.”

Nate ground his teeth together, fighting the surge of anger and picking up his mug of coffee instead, taking a slow drink, letting the scalding liquid burning the roof of his mouth distract him. All of this was helpful, he reminded himself. All of this was one step closer to getting Bram somewhere where he couldn’t hurt Danny anymore. “No,” he said, keeping the word quick and curt. “He m-made him wear it when h-h-he was angry with him. It was the th-thing he hated most. He’s… he was sc-scared of it.“

He was tired of answering questions, and Danny was all alone back in the breakroom, sitting in that stupid fucking folding chair with a blanket around his shoulders. Alone. He didn’t do well by himself. He didn’t like being alone - Bram had taken Nate on a supply run once and left Danny chained in the living room with enough food for a few days, told him they’d be gone for a weekend - and then stayed more than twice that long.

Danny had been desperate and terrified and so fucking grateful to Bram for coming back. Certain they’d left him in the living room to die, just like when Bram threw him in the cellar, in the dark. Then dragged Nate away to a small hunting shed down the road for a week, two weeks, a whole fucking month.

Returning to a Danny thirsty and starving, out of apples and water, willing to do anything - anything - if Bram promised not to leave again.

And somehow, Nate thought, Bram always seemed to know the exact day Danny ran out of food and water.

Nate’s bad hand tried to tighten into a fist and he winced at the spike of pain, the feeling of bones badly healed grinding against each other.

“I w-want to see R-… Danny,” Nate said, taking another sip of coffee, trying to calm down. Steady. You are rescued captives, not criminals, and they’ve already said Danny’s brother will be taking you back to sleep at his place. “We sh-… should talk to you t-t-together. In the same r-room.”

“I just want a few pieces of information to round out what we know,” The woman reassured him.

“Ma’am, I uh-understand that, but h-h-he’s scared. He d-d-doesn’t like being alone, it’s b-b-better if we t, talk together-”

“Listen, this is not an interrogation and we’re really not holding you. We only have you in here because the trauma expert we brought in has said it might be better for him not to overhear it, especially the bits involving…” She tapped her pen on the drawing Nate had made for her of the thing Abraham put on Danny’s face, then tapped her own cheek.

“But I h-h-have to hear m-me say it?” Nate sighed, and it felt good to sigh in a place where no one was going to mock him for how often he did it, or hit him, or cut the words STOP FUCKING SIGHING SO MUCH into his back.

Part of him ached with missing Bram’s presence, the hand that would have been on the back of his neck right now, telling him what to say without ever having to speak a word… but that part was too far gone, down a well of once you did this, it was too fucking late. “It’s n-n-not easier for me, you know.”

“Isn’t it? When we tried to speak to Mr. Michaelson, he shut down entirely.” The woman tapped her pen again, and Nate narrowed his eyes. That sound was getting really, really annoying. “I only want to learn a little bit more. You’re doing just fine, Mr. Vandrum.”

“I’m n-not worried about me.” Nate took a breath, gentled his voice. He tried even to gentle his expression, but it was hard by now to break the self-protective mask he wore, the one where bitterness and hostility fought for dominance, where he always looked bored and angry. It was a safer face than any other, and only with Danny did he find it easy to lose. “Even if it’s j-j-just a break,” He said quietly. “I want to s-s-see him. Soon.”

“Just a few more questions, Nate, and we’ll facilitate that. Once we’re done, we’ll take you back in. I’ve been told Mr. Michaelson’s brother has picked up a couple hotel rooms for you to stay in, and we can take this back up in the morning afterward. Is that acceptable?”

He thought about it, but they both knew it wasn’t really something he had a choice in. He at least was pretty used to not having choices. He wondered, idly, what had happened to Bram’s truck.

The body’s truck, not Bram’s.

(he’s not supposed to be back here for three months)

Not body. Victim.

(of course I’m going to kill him)

“Fine.” Nate sighed, again, and relished the sound and the way all the detective did was try to hide a small half-smile.

“Good. I just want to get through what you were thinking on Mr. Michaelson’s twenty-sixth birthday, when both of you have stated that the incident occurred that led to your escape, and then we’ll take a break. What made this different, if I might ask?”

Nate frowned. “Made w-w-what different?”

“You say this was done to him before, as… a form of punishment?” When Nate winced, her eyebrows furrowed in a moment of regret. “Ah, I’m sorry. I should have worded that differently. You say it happened more than once, at least. That it was not uncommon as a method of control. So what made this last time different, in your eyes? Prior to this, you had not been able to effect an escape. So why this time?”

Nate looked at her and thought of Daniel with the thing on his face, when the blue eyes were empty and gone, curled up in the back of the dog kennel in the cellar, whining in his throat like a kicked animal when Nate came close, looking at him and seeing Abraham Denner instead.

When those eyes stayed empty, stayed gone, for so long that until Nate had him in Bram’s truck (the body’s truck) he’d been perfectly and totally certain that it was too late, that Danny would never come back.

You’re a fucking fairy tale, Nate. Kissed the sleeping prince to wake him up. He had to fight back the bitter laughter, knowing that if he started laughing he might never stop. I didn’t exactly slay the dragon, though, did I? “He m-m-made me put it on h-him.”

“You had never done that before?”

He glared down into his coffee. “Not l-like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said no,” Nate snapped. “Because I f-fucking h-h-h… haaaah… I hated that thing. And sometimes he l-l-listened to me.” Sometimes he loved me enough to listen. Guilt blossomed, flowered inside of him, and he fought it back down. It was his fault Bram was sitting in a hospital room right now, handcuffed to the bed, would go to prison. His fault his fault his fault.

No. It wasn’t his fault.

If he hadn’t done that to Danny, everything would still be the same. Nate had understood, he’d learned all his lessons. He’d become exactly what Bram wanted and they’d been together for seven years, more time with Danny there than without him. After seven years of every attempt to find himself, to escape - to stand up for Danny - failing, Nate had been ready to live like that forever if he had to. Danny and his books, that was enough.

It would have to be enough.

But Bram had made the choice that nearly stole Danny from him for good, and if Danny was the only thing Bram had left him…

Danny was the only thing he wanted enough to kill for.

“But not on the day in question. On the day in question, he forced you to fasten this implement onto Mr. Michaelson’s face?”

Nate shook his head. "He wanted Red-… Danny to watch me b-be the one to d-d-do it.”

So that even I was a threat, the bad guy, someone who hurt him. That he couldn’t turn to me for help, because I was just as bad as Bram. Just like him, going to be just like him, just like them… so that he knew no one was safe, and I wanted to be safe for him.

That was all I wanted.

Bram took that away from me.

“So that was what made you start considering escape?”

“Not… n-not really. It made me th-think about it, but… what made me do something didn’t happen until September, when he b-brought him back into the cabin.”

“How long was that after going in? Two months, give or take? Okay, so what happened?”

“Two and a half. He went in on July 10th. He brought him back up right before October. If I answer, do I get to see him for a while?”

The woman went still, the slightest flare around her eyes the only thing betraying surprise. That’s right, Nate thought, I don’t always stammer. Sometimes I get pissed off instead, and the switch flips, and the words get back on the track to my mouth like they used to. She tilted her head, considered. “Yes. We’ll take a break, and you can see him, then. What happened in September?”

“He s-s-sent me down to get him,” Nate said softly. “G-Gave me the key.”

“H-Hey, Red, it’s m-m-me,” Nate had whispered, coming down the creaking wooden stairs, the cellar door thrown open to let as much light in as he could. “Where are y-y-you, Red? D-Danny?”

A low whine from the corner, behind the shelves that were empty now but would be full of pumpkins and apples in the winter, potatoes, too - all the food that they kept down here. Danny would make pumpkin pies and pumpkin pasta, black bean soup with pumpkin thrown in. Nate was fucking sick of beta carotene by spring.

He followed the sound of the whine, his heart dropping as he heard a soft metal scraping noise - rhythmic and horrifying, even when he didn’t know what it was.

He’d heard Danny trying to scream down here, when Bram went down to check on him. The whining sound like a kicked dog, ratcheted up to a horrible high pitch, followed by smacks and thumps and thuds and Bram’s laughter breaking it apart, shattering Danny’s fear and misery. Neither of them sounded human, down there, any longer.

That was when Nate had begun, piece by piece to realize that he didn’t feel quite the same when he looked Bram in the eyes as he used to.

Nate had moved around the corner of the shelf to find the large dog kennel shoved against the corner. It was nearly full-dark even with the cellar door open, this far back. Danny was curled up in the back, knees nearly to his chin, wide blue eyes staring sightlessly ahead.

Bare feet caked in dried dirt up to his ankles, streaks of old mud along his arms. The collar was cinched so tight that Danny breathed in shallow half-gasps. His red hair was dark, too dark, and Nate thought Bram must have been shoving him down into the dirt when he came down here, because Danny’s hair was clumped with mud.

Nate stared at Danny, and Danny stared back without seeing him, his whining turning to a low, frightened, inhuman whimper. He curled up even more tightly, and Nate realized what the metallic scraping was as Danny rubbed the side of the muzzle against the side of the kennel, trying to find the relieving, soothing pressure without touching the muzzle himself.

He couldn’t, after all - his hands were tied behind his back.

There was blood caked and dried on his chest, down his torso. A huge bruise he could see even in the semi-darkness on one hip.

“Oh h-h-holy fuck, no.”

Nate crouched down in front of the crate - feeling a twinge of pain in the knee Bram had damaged, once upon a time - and when he put the key into the lock to open it, Danny flinched away from him, tears leaking from his eyes, mixing with the blood on his face.

“C-C-Come on, Red, it’s t-t-time to c-come upstairs…”

Danny shook his head, whimpering again, turning his eyes away. Nate had to reach in and grab him by one arm, feeling like the lowest scum of the earth, and pull Danny whining and frightened forcibly out of the crate. Had to drag him up to his feet, which barely seemed able to hold him. Had to pull him up into sunshine he hadn’t seen in two and half months, leading him like a blind man when Danny whined and pushed his face into Nate’s shoulder at the pain of the light.

In the light, Nate could see what he’d missed in the dark.

He could see that some of what he’d thought was dirt on Danny’s arms and legs, his torso, along his spine… was blood.

And his face was still bleeding fresh, new bright red to cover over the dark dried brownish flakes on his cheeks under the grid.

And when he got him inside, Bram had looked up at them from his place sitting at the kitchen table, and smiled.

He’d taken pictures, with his phone, of the bloody wreckage where a man once had been.

And Nate had thought to himself, I’m going to kill you one day. And for the first time in seven years, he meant it.

In the present , Nate came back to himself, to the curious, patient stare of the detective. “I’m s-s-sorry, you had asked-”

“What was different about this instance?”

“Oh, um, time… He sp-spent two m-months in the… away f-f-from me, and when we g-g-got him back upstairs and c-clean-”

“How long had you gone without seeing him during the captivity prior to the event?”

“… I didn’t, n-not since Abraham took him. I s-s-saw him every single day until then, except w-w-when he took m-me on a supply run or t-two. We were… we were e-e-everything for each other.”

Still are. He’s everything, and no one’s going to take him away again.

“When he brought Mr. Michaelson back up from the cellar, you were still angry about what happened in July?”

Nate just nodded, this time, and took another drink of coffee. It was cooling rapidly in the little questioning room, and he frowned down at it. It was terrible coffee - Danny would hate it, he’d never stopped being a coffee snob even during the worst days, at the end, when he didn’t even get to drink the coffee he’d made, because…

“Bram wouldn’t take it off,” Nate said in a low voice. The anger was back, the fury that lived inside of him and flipped the switch inside his brain. The words suddenly came easily, all but fell out of his mouth, tumbled over each other in his eagerness for someone to understand what he’d done and why. “He wouldn’t take the fucking thing off of him, even after he brought him back up. Just to sh-shower, for eating. He made him… he’d worn it for…” He counted it up, the days and weeks of seeing Danny’s empty fucking eyes, and knew he’d done the right thing. “… he’d worn it for five goddamn months by the time I got him out.“

The woman sat back, watching him carefully, writing quickly on her notepad without ever taking her eyes off of his face. “Five months, Mr. Vandrum?”

"Five. Months. He didn’t get to take it off - other than to eat or for me to take care of his- his bleeding, to get his face cleaned up and bandaged-… for five months.”

“I understand,” She said, with that exaggerated but impersonal empathy that he fucking hated hearing in cop shows and definitely hated even more in real life. “Mr. Michaelson didn’t tell us it was that long.”

“He p-p-probably doesn’t r-remember. I was… I’d been m-mad before, but you kn-know, you g-g-get over being mad, in a relationship. You fight a-and you work it out, s-sometimes he hurt m-m-me until I stopped b-being angry, but…” One of the woman’s eyebrows twitched upwards, then just as quickly went back down. She said nothing. “But th-this… he knew, he knew he wouldn’t come b-back, this t-t-time, and he didn’t.”

“Come back? Can you explain-”

“D-Danny goes away in his head when it’s on h-him. He's…”

“Yes,” The detective said, thoughtfully. “The trauma expert told us he dissociates, and he does seem to struggle with understanding where he is, or when he is.”

“Wh-who he is,” Nate whispered.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner.

“Right. So you’re saying that the muzzle-” Nate flinched at the word, and the detective cleared her throat. “Apologies. You’re saying the implement is the cause of his dissociation, and he doesn’t come back until you take it off. That Mr. Denner purposefully kept it on, and kept him dissociated, for five months.”

“Y-Yes.”

“So when he chose to keep it on… this upset you further?” The woman asked, voice pitched lower and lower.

“Of c-course it did. He let me c-clean him up, and everything, but he m-m-made me p-put it back on afterwards. Over and oh-over, and… and over-” Nate’s voice broke, caught with the tears he hadn’t shed, not in a long time. The guilt might eat him alive. He’d let it go on for so long before he could pull everything off, before he could do what he had to do. This was on him, all of it. What had happened to Danny, what had been taken from him. How little was left. “He s-said it wasn’t coming off this time until he felt like he’d learned, th-that he’s not a p-person, just the f-f-fucking puppy.”

The detective swallowed. Her composure did not crack, not for a moment.

“He’s n-not. He’s not wh-what Bram always, always s-s-said he was, he’s not. He is a person!”

He’s my person.

Mine.

“I understand your frustration,” She said, carefully compassionate, still distant. Did she not like him, Nate wondered or was it just professional composure, not to crack under the weight of the story Nate was telling her? “This was the catalyst for the actions you undertook between October and December 10th?”

“Yes.”

Catalyst. Perfect word for it, wasn’t it? Nate smiled, the barest, faintest little smile. Yes, it had been the catalyst.

Daniel had come up from the cellar filthy, clinging to Nate with eyes that saw something else, that belonged to someone else. Bram had ordered Nate to get him into the shower and clean him up, and then put him back on his mat.

Every bit of dirty water down the drain, all the shaggy red hair he’d cut off when he couldn’t get the tangles to come apart no matter how long he combed at them… every new wound and scarring bit of skin and bruise he’d found… every time Danny whined at the feel of his hands, even though Nate took the thing off in the shower…

All of it was a little bit more of what tied Nate to Bram - the fear and the affection, the love and the pain, the power of his eyes - draining away.

Danny’s broken arm had healed even if more of the rest of him was hurt - Bram must have splinted it, while he was in the cellar, in the dog crate. Even with the thing off his face, Danny didn’t come back, not even for a second. He just sat there, empty, and allowed himself to be cleaned.

Once he was clean, the story of the past two months in the darkness became even more apparent. Nate could see new cuts, reddish and infected, layered over old mostly-healed ones. His body was littered with bruising, and when he took the collar off for the shower he could see that the skin was raw and blistered under there.

He fastened the collar back on, at Bram’s command, but at least he could make it looser for him, this time.

He could see the muzzle wounds dug so deeply into his face that Nate thought his jaw might never heal all the way that his nose would always look like that now dug in hard on the top. They kept leaking blood even after he bandaged them, thin blood vessels so close to the surface, so repeatedly forced into exposure with the air.

And he could see, in the empty blank blue eyes, the worst wound of all - the way Danny had retreated into his own mind to escape, and couldn’t find his way back out.

Once he was cleaned up, dried off, and dressed in a thin button-up and his cotton pajama pants, Danny sat quietly on his mat, staring at nothing, and no matter how Nate tried to get him back, he was gone.

Not even when Bram ordered him into the bed that night.

All Danny did was stare blankly at the two of them and do exactly what he was told. He fell asleep that night with his head resting on his shoulder, wavy red hair tickling at his ear, the metal grid of the muzzle pressing lightly against Nate’s neck.

Nate had held him until he fell asleep, and known he couldn’t keep going like this. The fury did not die under Bram’s eyes, this time.

He held on to that fury for as long as it took to do what he had to do to save him.

“This was in late September. We didn’t receive the call until… December 11th, it says, that you and Mr. Michaelson reported yourselves to a police station around 2 am. What happened?”

Nate swallowed.

I stopped loving Bram.

I learned how to love Danny more.

“I came up with a plan.”

“A plan, Mr. Vandrum?”

Nate looked her right in the eyes, and dared her to question what he had had to do. Dared her to say a goddamn word about his choices that night.

“Yes, m-ma’am.”

“And your plan was…”

“A m-m-murder.”

#whump #Daniel Michaelson's story #nate vandrum: a knight in soot-stained armor #defiant whumpee #broken whumpee #tw: muzzles #muzzling #restrained #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: referenced/implied noncon (brief)#tw: abuse #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #violent whumper #dehumanization #pet whump

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bymoonchild · 6 years

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Set On You (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Genre | Fluff, smut / volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader

Warnings | Light smut, detailed thigh-riding, thirsty nsfw thoughts, alcohol consumption, swearing and a whole lot of hopeless pining and soft moments because it’s soft uwu hours 24/7

Word count | 18.1k

Summary | Sports has never been your thing, so when you find yourself in a sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cologne and in front of a group of volleyball players whom you’re supposed to be managing (heck, you can’t even manage your own life), you know that you’re in Deep Shit™.

Especially when Jeon Jungkook, the golden setter of the team aka the boy who holds stars in his eyes, starts to occupy your reveries, slowly becoming both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

The repeated squeaks of sneakers and harrowing smacks from the contact of palm against ball reverberate across the court, sounding awfully similar to the erratic thumping of your heartbeats, but they do nothing to drown out the thudding in your eardrums. Cowering meekly behind the door of your school’s daunting indoor sports hall, the perspiration on your palms is getting way out of hand and your legs almost threaten to take you back to your dorm, but the palpable, icy-cold air that greets you halts you in your tracks.

Clad in their renowned black and red jerseys, you watch the volleyball players manoeuvre effortlessly all over the court, giving their all to keep the ball up in the air. They almost look identical – radiating with a peculiar charisma and indomitable grit – if not for the designated numbers on their backs.

More volts of panic pulse through your veins. You’re intimidated out of your wits, but even for a person who’s allegedly allergic to sports, you can’t deny the ferocity of their match – it’s pretty enthralling. Thinking about it, this is actually your first time catching your school’s volleyball team in action and you have to admit that their teamwork is quite something.

Sports has never been your thing, let alone volleyball. In fact, you would very much rather be cooped under your quilt in the comfort of your air-conditioned room at this very moment. How you’ve landed yourself in a humid and stinky indoor sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cloying cologne, facing a group of really tall and sweaty college boys with that signature awkward grin of yours is beyond you, and something you definitely didn’t foresee yourself doing in your second year in Seoul National University.

You should have trusted your gut feeling when you thought that agreeing to be the student manager for the school’s volleyball team to earn extracurricular points for your scholarship would be a terrible idea. Gosh, this is all on Hoseok, your English Lit seatmate and also (surprisingly) the captain of the volleyball team. Curse him and his manipulative ways of convincing people.

According to your very wise friend, 1) you desperately need to join a club ASAP because the only club you belong to is the Sunshine Club – no, it’s not a real club, it’s just a pejorative term for students who alternate between home and school, and that certainly earns you zero extracurricular points, 2) you need to get out of your comfort zone more often because this is college and in college, you fuck things up for the fun of it, and 3) a student manager could really do good for the volleyball team because the new season is starting really soon and they’re gearing up for first place this season after their demeaning loss to Hanyang University last year, oh and also, the boys have been praying everyday to have someone (new and well, fun) other than their coach on the team because the old man sure can be a little grump.

You don’t question the last point because it’s a known fact that the volleyball team is your school’s pride and joy. When they were beaten at their own game last year, the entire school went in mourning for a whole damn week. It’s pretty hilarious, the more you think about it, that the competitive sport is basically just a more intense game of “don’t let the balloon touch the floor”. But almost everyone finds the sport cool because somehow or other, the players also happen to be naturally tall and also attractive – though the latter is highly subjective and does not include your terrible friend.

Albeit not knowing the players personally and being able to match their names to their faces, you’ve seen the gang in school, perpetually flaunting their black and red jerseys that can be spotted from miles away and drawing attention to their rambunctious selves.

The number of people who admire (and worship) them don’t escape your notice too, including your smitten professors who all have a mutual soft spot for Hoseok whenever he falls behind or sleeps in class. It seems like everyone is oddly bewitched by their charms – you’ve heard stories about the appalling number of girls who’ve confessed to them and hooked up with them at parties, only because Hoseok can’t stop gloating about the increasing count. But whether they’re just plain ole rumors or facts, you’d rather not be involved in their social politics because Hoseok is your own Gossip Girl and that’s more than enough, really.

“Guys, gather up!”

Coach Kim blows his whistle and literally the entire team comes scrambling to swamp the two of you. A wave of panic washes over you, draining colour from your face as they start to look you up and down inquisitively. You’ve never felt that inferior about being vertically-challenged before, but being surrounded by a group of volleyball players who could appear to be almost a good 2 meters tall? Definitely not up your alley.

“We finally, yes, finally,” you don’t miss the enthusiasm and relief in Coach Kim’s voice, “have a student manager on the team!”

At that, everyone explodes in loud cheers, their gruff voices filling up the court and you shudder at the resonance of their voices.

“Hi,” you give a little wave to the tall towers before you, trying to make things less menacing for you. “I’m Y/N, a second-year Psychology major. Nice to meet you! I’ll be the student manager from today onwards. Hoseok dragged me here—”

“Yay, welcome Y/N!” Hoseok interrupts your intention of throwing shade at him with an overzealous whoop of excitement and his teammates divert their attention to their loud captain. “You guys be nice to her or you’ll be catching these hands.”

They all roll their eyes, before grunting out an okay. After taking turns to introduce themselves – honestly, your brain could only be loaded with so many names, you’d definitely need more time to digest and remember their faces, the players soon disperse and resume their usual rotational drills.

Turning to you with an eerily wide grin, Hoseok then leads you to the perimeter of the court and hands you a clipboard. “Okay for today, just familiarise yourself with the positions and the guys. Easy peasy, I know we’re all good-looking—”

You interrupt his narcissistic statement by faking a gag.

“Rude! As I was saying before I was rudely cut off, we’re all good-looking, but it’s easy to distinguish us. Unless you mix Seokjin-hyung and Jungkook up, which is fine because they look quite similar. Both ugly.”

“You just said—”

“The entire team is present except for Jungkookie. He’ll come later because he’s taking a test now. When you see a tall guy who looks like an overgrown, emo baby bunny, just mark Jungkook present.”

You hum mindlessly and glance over to the guys who’ve already taken their respective positions.

“Now, now, don’t gush over the guys. They’re fucking gross. They sweat a lot and stink like rotten meat after practice.”

“As if you don’t too! I’ve sat beside you in class after your practice before and I had to hold my breath the entire class.”

“Excuse you!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “I’m already pretty hygienic compared to the others… Anyways, it’s too late to back out.”

“Oh shit.”

“I’m kidding! We’re really nice, a little intimidating maybe because of our heights but that’s only because you’re short as fuck, but we don’t bite… unless you want us to. Come! Let’s go through the positions together.”

Being the volleyball neophyte you are, Hoseok walks you through the various volleyball positions. You learn that there are four main positions and only six players are allowed on the court, though the entire team is 14 members strong. There are three wing spikers in total – Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi – and they carry the defensive workload. Namjoon and Seokjin are the middle blockers, while Jimin is the libero who wears a different coloured jersey since he can conveniently switch in and out of the game (usually with Seokjin) and lastly, the setter, who is none other than Jungkook. Hoseok calls him the backbone of the team.

“Okay, this isn’t that hard. I can do this,” you think to yourself after Hoseok leaves to join his teammates, a dry attempt to spur yourself on.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t done much besides committing their names and faces to memory and learning about the different positions, but the first thirty minutes of practice have been going surprisingly well, until—

“Jungkookie!” Hoseok shrieks while looking past your shoulder towards the door.

“The overgrown, emo baby bunny?” You quote your friend, before turning your head to look at the latecomer.

And damn, you wish you could take back your words. Standing before you is a boy who’s unfamiliar to your sight, but a dazzling one in appearance. His hair is a black mop of soft tousled locks, his onyx eyes are doe-like and his lips take on a soft rosy pink tint.

Upon your words, Jungkook doubles over with a boyish chuckle. “Hyung! What did you call me?”

Ignoring the latter and swatting him away, Hoseok continues with a beam, “Yep, this is Jungkook, our golden setter. Great, now you’ve met everyone on the team!”

He then turns back to Jungkook, while offering you a pat on the back, “Jungkookie, meet Y/N, our new student manager. Treat her nicely or I’ll break your fingers.”

Jungkook takes offense at the threat (his dearest fingers…) and glowers at his captain. He then turns to you and you notice that his facial expressions soften for a moment, before his face starts to scrunch up. With a contrived smile, he extends out his hand, “Hello, nice to meet you.”

You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how he practically looms over you.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You instantly curse yourself, red threatening to dot your cheeks because Hoseok literally just said your name like 10 seconds ago.

Even from where you’re standing, it doesn’t take much for you to notice how his eyes take on a sharp, mesmerising glow. Like stars glistening in the velvet night sky, vying to out-glow one another.

And so, you panic.

“Nice to meet the overgrown, emo baby bunny,” are the words that follow your already embarrassing introduction and you grimace upon hearing yourself, wishing to swallow your stupid words back. Your mouth just lives to sabotage you whenever you’re nervous.

The awkwardness starts to saturate the air, uncomfortable in the way it clings onto the two of you, minus Hoseok who’s drinking everything in with confusion. Jungkook’s eyes rest on your embarrassed features, blinking owlishly and this is when you know that you need to leave, stat. Embarrassed, you bite your lower lip and mutter, “I have to go… help Coach. Bye!”

Spinning on your heels skittishly, you jog past hoarse hollers of nice serve and chance ball to join Coach Kim at the sidelines and you swear you’ve never speed-walked this fast in your entire life before. It literally takes every ounce of you not to freak out even when you can still feel holes being bored on your back. Not even an hour into practice and you’ve embarrassed yourself already? So much for beating your personal record.

“Well, that was painfully awkward,” the captain taunts with a smile full of mirth.

“Urgh h-hyung, stop it!”

Besides the brainwork of remembering the players’ names and positions, your agenda of tasks also includes physical labour, much to your dismay, of refilling water bottles, picking up stray balls from all corners of the court and being in charge of the dreaded grimy storeroom aka your new hiding place away from the sausage fest outside.

You don’t really get to watch today’s full six-on-six match, too busy scrambling all over the court to gather the stray balls and when you’re finally done, the boys have taken a five and are sprawled all over the floor, grumbling loudly in fatigue.

Joining Coach Kim on the bench, your eyes sweep quickly across the court and you see Jungkook lying on the ground with his eyes closed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically in tandem with his breathing, like an empty boat blobbing on gentle early-morning waves. What catches your attention is how apparent his jersey sticks to his abdomen, slightly exposing his torso and warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. You can’t unsee it, but you desperately want to. Beside him, Hoseok has his shirt rolled up to his chest, baring his well-sculpted front, but you don’t feel a thing.

As if on cue, a raven black mop of dishevelled locks rises up from the ground, swiftly meeting your eyes in the process. He freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide and shoulders rigid. But it’s not like you’re any better. You stare back at Jungkook blankly, trying your best not to panic because he just caught you staring at him like a creep and it’s only your first day.

Uh oh.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach, so you quickly pry your eyes away because you’re that good at pretending that you didn’t see shit.

From your periphery, you realise that he’s still looking straight at you and you shudder at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden.

Eventually, you decide to muster up some courage and turn back to him. You see that his eyes are still dead set on you and this throws you off kilter. Forming a thin line on his lips, he suddenly throws himself back onto the ground with a thud, causing his teammates to rise up instantly and wonder what the heck is wrong with their setter.

The way Jungkook stares at you remains etched in your mind even after practice. If this is what you’re going to face three times a week from today onwards, you’re going to need all the luck you can have and probably also some calming tea for your unsettling nerves.

You arrive at the sports hall punctually the next practice, a tad excited, albeit the nerves in your stomach. Instead of reporting straight to Coach Kim, you decide to greet the few players who are already warming up, but almost retract your footsteps when you see Jungkook part of the warm-up circle.

He’s already staring at you with that same gaze of his, but the boys don’t sense your hesitance and beckon you to join them. It’s a little too late to back away, so you saunter over with a bubbly façade, ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still relentlessly boring holes onto your face.

“Hey!” Taehyung chirps and scoots over to make space for you. “Sit here, Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

“Did you come from class?” Hoseok pipes, spinning a volleyball with his finger.

“Yeah, it ended 10 minutes ago.”

“H-Hi.”

You hear a soft murmur beside you and turn your head, only to meet Jungkook and his brown doe eyes. Seated only inches away from you, his breath fans out across your cheek and warmth scatters over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the proximity. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for few seconds, as if you two are the only ones in the court, before he blinks away and continues stretching like he didn’t just stutter.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you mutter in a slight daze of confusion, wincing when your words come off as a gasp, so you quickly turn back to somewhere safe – to the sight of Hoseok doing push-ups with the derpiest face ever. If Jungkook has heard your silly gasp, he’s sure being really nice for not laughing about it or bringing it up.

Once Coach Kim finally enters the court, you run up to him in relief because you’re dying to break away from Jungkook’s gaze, and Hoseok invites you to join their discussion about the strategies for their practice match. Foreign terms like “quicks”, “back-row attacks” and “jump float serves” are being strewn around vivaciously, but you dutifully scribble whatever you could decipher on your clipboard, though the technicalities are starting to get pretty overwhelming.

Mid-way into the discussion, a particular chuckle floats over to your direction and you can’t help but draw your gaze to the middle of the court. You see Jungkook goofing around with his teammates, spinning a volleyball deftly with his hands, and the edges of your lips curl up at the sight of him having fun. It’s strange how he’s so uptight whenever he’s around with you, all rigid limbs and awkward glances.

Practice starts promptly after the discussion and things start to change half an hour into practice, contrary to their chill warm-up session. Taking their respective positions, nobody’s cracking jokes or slacking off, all committed to ensuring that the ball stays afloat and honing their skills.

The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour is especially evident to you. From the shy and awkward boy he is around you, he’s now focused and charismatic. His gaze doesn’t break away from the ball, always on the lookout and poised to set.

The boys practice for another two hours, constantly refining their moves and providing feedback to one another. Besides listening to Coach Kim’s never-ending commentary and laments about the boys, you also move around the perimeter to observe each player and take notes on your clipboard.

You somehow find yourself standing near the net, where Jungkook is positioned in his fully immersed glory. Hoseok calling him the backbone of the team comes to mind. After researching more about the different positions, you’re aware that the setter controls the flow of the game and orchestrates the attacks, but what intrigues you more is knowing that Jungkook is one of the best setters in the zone. You wonder if he’s really that amazing as what they make him to be, so you decide to take a break from your clipboard and pay full attention to the boy in front of you.

The ball arches over the net from the opposing team and Jimin springs into action, diving on the ground without hesitation. He grunts loudly when he manages to save it, pumping it back up in the air. A rolling receive, you recognise. From behind, one of his teammates screams an exasperated “nice save”.

The ball glides over to where Jungkook’s at and he extends his arms, as if inviting it to rest in his cupped hands. You can’t help but be mesmerised by his figure that’s positioned at a breath’s gap from the net, his back arching into a parabolic shape and thigh muscles rippling as he uses just one hand to slightly push the ball over the net with great aplomb. His effortless move sends the ball diving straight onto the ground, untouched by his stunned teammates from the other side.

“A dump!” Taehyung hollers excitedly, “Holy fuck!”

“What the fuck, Kook!” Namjoon from the opposing team shouts in frustration, but seems to be equally impressed by Jungkook’s sly move. “You’re a devil.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle at their dumfounded reactions and the edges of your lips quirk up involuntarily. His sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his dark eyes sparkle with intensity. He looks almost idyllic being on the court, phenomenal even – it’s like he belongs there, like he was born to play and shine on the court.

There’s something about his contented smile that’s enamouring – there’s something warm, soft and child-like beneath it. Something very much like a young boy playing hide-and-seek, hidden deep within him and hoping to be discovered and resurrected.

His smile is a nice sight.

The match resumes and you continue to observe how the setter receives the ball and tosses it to his teammates with impeccable control and precision. The way his fingers cup the volleyball doesn’t go past your notice and you gulp when your eyes land on his veiny arms.

A warm tingling feeling courses to your own fingertips. You wonder how holding his hand would feel like and similar thoughts continue to invade your mind throughout the entire practice.

The following practices fly by in a blur.

You’re on the bench with Coach Kim, your clipboard in hand. You’ve soon found joy in analysing the skills of each player and coming up with strategies, and this is evident from your clipboard that’s now filled up with your messy handwriting. The exciting game of volleyball is really starting to grow on you, though what’s more captivating is watching the setter shine on the court.

Jungkook is a silent and calculating setter who pinpoints his tosses with an eerie tactical accuracy. He’s especially meticulous in estimating the average height of each spiker’s jumps and he knows how to change the speed and altitude of his tosses to complement each teammate, leaving no room for mistakes.

While you’re realising all these by yourself, the guys are still fighting it out on the court, engrossed in the last set of the practice match and Jungkook’s team is in the lead. It’s against his own teammates, but the setter’s competitive burn doesn’t seem to know when to stop, boundless when it comes to the things he’s passionate about. This isn’t exclusive to just him though – his teammates seem to have picked up his vigour too, all firing with extra vitality. It isn’t surprising as all of their efforts are dedicated to winning the championships this season.

Seeing how the game is never coming to an end because they’ve been at match point for the last five minutes and neither team is letting their guard down, you excuse yourself from the game to refill their water bottles. Seokjin decides to join you when he watches you leave. Jimin has stepped in for the last few minutes of the set and you thank him for his help because carrying 14 water bottles is not an easy task.

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees you returning to the court with their water bottles hugged to your chest and he wishes he could run over to help you. But when Seokjin appears behind you, sharing a laugh with you, an unfamiliar feeling pools in his stomach – something about the sight of you laughing with his teammate puts him off. He doesn’t like it, but he softens at how brightly and effortlessly your face lights up. Seokjin’s probably telling you one of his overused dad jokes.

Sharp curses and flustered yells of Jungkook’s name fly through the air, but there’s barely enough time for him to process what is going on. He registers the blur of yellow and blue spinning in a few centimeters away from his face and before he knows it, he’s crashing on the cold hard ground from the impact.

A yelp escapes from the back of his throat. He feels like his nose just did a full-on pancake save on the ground. The middle of his face is throbbing in pain and his vision starts to blur from the tears at the edges of his eyes.

“Jungkook, what the heck were you doing!” Coach Kim bellows and jogs over to check up on him, his creased forehead is evidence that he’s in disbelief that the golden setter is actually capable of being distracted during a match.

The blazing blur of blue and yellow is soon replaced with shadowy looming figures and gasps of horror.

“Gosh, your nose is as red as Angry Bird,” Taehyung pipes in and chortles with his phone in hand. “What the fuck, I need to capture this. This is blackmail material.”

“Dude! What was that about?” Hoseok kneels down, a tad amused by the situation. “You’re normally not like this, who were you looking at?”

“Guys, guys! Give him some space…”

A lulling voice emerges amidst the insults mercilessly thrown at his injured self and Jungkook relaxes a little.

Easing your way to the front, you squat beside him, wincing at the sight of the bloody gash. A single line of blood trickles down his jaw and then to his neck, causing a red seam on his jersey.

“Okay, kids! Thank god that we have a manager now. Y/N will take care of Jungkook and his bloody face, so get back to practice!”

You offer him a little smile as he stares at you wide-eyed silently.

“Jungkook? You’re okay. You’re fine, it doesn’t look that bad,” you coo reassuringly, hoping to lessen the pain that’s evident from his contorted expression.

Pressing the back of his hand to his nose to wipe away the blood, Jungkook flushes pink, as if his face isn’t red enough already. Besides the stinging pain on his face, he feels his heart beating a merciless staccato rhythm. He already has trouble breathing from the blood in his nostrils, but all air rushes out of him when you inch even closer to assess the damage and he shuts his eyes in panic.

“I’ll take you to the nurse after you’re all cleaned up.”

Jungkook grunts in response. With careful fingers, you cradle the back of his head and push away his sweaty bangs with your other hand, before gently wiping the area around his nose. Slowly reopening his eyes, he gazes at you quietly and you avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but you shiver involuntarily when the warmth of his breath graces your arm.

At this close of a distance, you can count the long eyelashes that frame Jungkook’s large orbs, the crooked bunny teeth that appear when he winces, the little mole under his lips and the faint scar on his right cheek that mars his otherwise unblemished and fair skin. His hair also feels soft as it tickles the back of your hand and you’re so tempted to thread your fingers through them. You have to physically shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“Okay… Slowly…” You slip out of Jungkook’s hold as he settles on the edge of an empty bed in the school clinic and the nurse approaches you two without a word, as though injuries like these are an everyday occurrence.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not as bad as before,” he mumbles bashfully, peeking at you through his lashes and you instantly want to melt into a puddle on the floor, especially since there’s less blood, people and space. It’s just the two of you now.

Noticing that you’re standing awkwardly by the door, he pats the space beside him and you move over, actually tired from the whole ordeal.

You two make some small talk while waiting for the nurse to return. You learn that Jungkook is in his second year too, a Computer Science major, and you tell him that you’ve never seen him in school before though the Social Sciences faculty is right beside his.

“I think I’m kind of low-key?” He states and you raise an eyebrow. He is definitely not low-key. There are probably girls gushing over him at this very instance.

“I’m always in class or at practice. Okay, I spend 30 percent of my life in class, 60 percent at practice and the last 10 percent in my room,” he explains animatedly, flinging his hands to gesture how he divides his time.

You try not to sputter into a fit of laughter, but laughter pokes its way across glassy eyes and pink cheeks when Jungkook scrunches his nose at his words.

“But I think I’ve seen you in school before? Your faculty always has fundraiser activities going on. And you performed for a talent show before, didn’t you? My friend dragged me to your faculty’s talent show. You sang an Adele song right?”

“Oh,” you squeak, a little too high to your liking, red finding its way up your cheeks. You’re nonplussed and a little touched that he remembers you from the other talented and pretty female contestants because they’re so many girls around him and you’re just… well, you’re just you.

“Oh my god, I probably sounded terrible,” you grimace, hand flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“No, you didn’t! I remembered your performance because it was that good.”

“R-Really?

He hums in response.

“Okay… thank you, I guess?” You look down at your fingers awkwardly. “That’s really nice of you.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “No – thank you. Coach would have just left me bleeding on the ground if it wasn’t for you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well. Before you know it, he has his hand up, gingerly ruffling your hair and your entire body instantly stiffens, as if zapped by electricity. Muted colours of soft pastels swirl in your head. You think that his touch on your head might actually burn more than his squashed nose.

“No problem, Jungkook.”

It’s been a month since you joined the volleyball team as their student manager and now your existence alternated between school, your dorm and the sports hall, but you’re actually enjoying every bit of it.

It’s a Tuesday, which means there’s no volleyball practice, but you’re heading to the sports hall to clean up the storeroom and do some administrative stuff for their upcoming friendlies.

“Y/N!”

Looking up at the direction of the familiar voice, your eyes land on Jungkook who’s smiling at you and you stop in your tracks. You drink in the sight of him in a white T-shirt, ripped light blue jeans and a denim jacket. It’s nothing over the top, but he looks stunning regardless and you have to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing in your stomach.

This is probably the first time seeing Jungkook in school. Ever since his bloody nose incident, the two of you have started to become less uptight with each other and are now friends, if you choose to omit the awkward stares, flustered cheeks and sweaty palms. Just friends, nothing more or less.

You wave to him, trying your best to hide your surprised expression. He has never approached you directly during practice, let alone in the hallway.

“Where are you headed to?” He breaks the distance between you and him in less than five strides.

“I’m just going to clean up the storeroom. You?”

“Clas—oh actually, I was about to practice my tosses too.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Um, no I don’t?”

“But you were just walking in the other direction, away from the sports hall.” You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head.

This stops him cold. He can’t place your expression exactly – it’s a cross between amusement and confusion and this makes him even more torn between wanting to continue lying so he can go to the sports hall with you and dropping the act and running away to save himself from further embarrassment. He chooses neither.

“Okay fine, you caught me. Can we… let’s just go to the sports hall together?”

How and why is a mystery, but you find yourself nodding your head in acquiescence.

Walking beside Jungkook is anxiety-inducing, as if you aren’t nervous enough around the said boy on a regular basis. As you pass through the hallway of blur figures, you pick up a whiff of Jungkook’s scent – it’s a comforting, clean fresh laundry scent that rests pleasantly on your nose. The soft material of his denim jacket is ticklish as it brushes against your arm, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage.

There’s always been something about Jungkook that makes you feel… alive, you realise.

It’s the little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours, be it casually and intentionally and the momentary halting of your heartbeat and the fluster that attacks you without a warning whenever he gazes at you. It’s the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he’s smiling and his mellifluous laughs – both soft and loud ones – when he’s cackling up with the guys that never fail to render you breathless.

You hate how you always magically transform into an incoherent fool every time you come in contact with him. But no matter how times he has caused your heart to stop for the briefest of moments, you don’t regret the lovely loss because you’ll gladly succumb to any pain, fuzzy feeling or ramification that Jungkook brings – just because, as strange as it sounds, you like it.

You don’t realise that you’ve held your breath the entire walk to the sports hall until you reach the storeroom and that was only possible after persuading the insistent Jungkook that you don’t need his help with clearing the cabinets.

When you’re done after spending an hour in the stuffy storeroom, you find Jungkook spiking the balls against the wall in his sports attire. You swallow hard when your eyes trail down to his accentuated butt that looks too good for his own good and his thighs that flex dangerously when he moves. Your cheeks sear with embarrassment that’s hot enough to burn away your lewd thoughts.

For someone who’s painfully shy and cannot toss a ball for pity’s sake, you cannot fathom where you get the sudden surge of courage, but your mouth decides to take matters into its own hands and blurt out something along the lines of “Hey, want me to toss the ball to you?”.

You hate how your voice rises in the end, turning into an awkward squeak, but he seems to find it adorable if his dazed look is anything to go by.

Eagerly taking you up on your offer, the two of you soon fall into a comfortable pattern – you’d toss the ball to Jungkook for him to practice his tosses and spikes and this continues till the volleyball crate is emptied out. Sometimes you don’t toss high enough and he’ll laugh at your fail attempts, but he’s always patient with you and even teaches you the proper way of tossing the way with the correct push. Heck, you didn’t even know that there was a correct way of tossing a freaking ball.

After what seems like 10 hours, you sit down to catch your breath, slightly embarrassed by your lack of stamina because Jungkook looks like he can go on for another 10, looking as impeccable as ever. When he runs a hand through his hair with that lopsided smile of his, it leaves you even more short of breath. It’s as though he’s doing this on purpose.

His fitted shirt is drenched with sweat, cruelly sticking to his abs and you gulp when your eyes trail down to his thighs. The fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin, revealing the harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his thighs. And you really need to curb your obsession for his thighs, because it’s getting way out of hand and you’ll skin yourself alive if he ever finds out about it.

“Hey, you tired?” Jungkook trudges over to sit beside the stoned you, playing with the ball in his hands.

“Oh no no, I’m okay,” you lie blatantly and begin to stand up, but he stops you.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty beat too. Want to grab some food? I’m actually really hungry.”

He looks at you with a painfully familiar glint swimming in his corneas and your breathing stutters violently at the sight.

Listen, you don’t know if you can survive being this close to him, but you decide to fuck it when Hoseok’s words echo in your mind: you need to get out of your comfort zone more often – go and fuck things up.

Deciding to heed his stupid advice, you shoot Jungkook a smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Somehow or other, you two end up eating at a convenience store near campus because ramen after practice is always a good decision.

“So, um, how’s school?” Jungkook starts off, picking up his noodles with regalement, but deadpans upon realising how lame he sounds.

“How’s school?” You repeat with a bemused tone, chuckling at his dry attempt at making small talk.

“I mean like… tell me about yourself? Like how’s school been like for you… Urgh, this is so embarrassing.”

He groans loudly and buries his head in his palms and then peeks at your face through the spaces in between his fingers. His heart swells like never before at your smile and the tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs.

A highly ranked and skilled setter he might be, but Jungkook knows no shit when it comes to his strange, burgeoning feelings for you. He wishes that feelings could be more like volleyball – systematic, clear-cut, and guaranteed a clear, satisfying view if you try hard enough. Human emotions bring along this ambiguity that he’s scared of approaching. He isn’t sure if he is capable of understanding it, but there’s always a first time for everything.

You laugh dryly, “I’m always clueless when I’m supposed to talk about myself. I guess I’m just a normal person with normal dreams and normal hobbies?”

He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, nervous as heck from the way he’s looking at you so attentively with a soft smile.

You continue, “Okay, I don’t really have a hobby and I spend a lot of time by myself in my room. I know I’m lame.”

“No, it doesn’t! If it makes you feel better, I feel normal too. With normal dreams and hobbies.”

A corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation. “Being the golden setter of SNU’s volleyball team and probably the best in this entire zone isn’t quite my definition of normal. Now I feel even more boring.”

“No! Urgh… You’re not boring. If you were, I wouldn’t be here listening to you – I swear. And I have a limited patience for boring people… like Coach. God, he is the most boring person in the world.”

“You’re just being nice to me.”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently and your heart gnaws at how disconcerted he is –he’s trying so hard to make you feel better about yourself that it’s endearing.

“Being normal is great, but there’s nothing normal about normal I feel? And you… you’re a special kind of normal. You’re nice, smart, funny, sometimes pretty awkward but still not as awkward as me, so you’re not that bad.”

You chuckle sheepishly, but your smile fades away when he shoots you a longing look before muttering under his breath, “And you make me feel normal.”

His brown eyes glimmer in the hazy streetlights, highlighting the caramel flecks in them. Your eyes dart between his soft expression and his fingers that are drumming against the table.

“Me?” You squeak, startled by Jungkook’s sudden confession. Your mouth drops agape, but it’s quickly overridden by a shy smile when you observe how the little blush on his cheeks has receded to make camp on his ears, the glint in his eyes brighter.

“Yeah. When I’m with you, I feel normal. Not a volleyball player or the golden setter. Just me, Jeon Jungkook.”

Heat sits high on your cheeks as his words linger in your ears. The world seems to hang suspended, out of space and out of time. You try to find your voice but your tongue is suddenly terribly numb, so the two of you continue to sit in silence, staring at one another and enjoying the swim of your heads.

That night, Jungkook walks you back to your dorm and you give him a hug before saying your dreadful goodbye – a lilting whisper of good night Kook.

Hugging isn’t uncommon with the team because they’re strangely big on hugs and being their manager means that you’re their personal teddy bear that they can crush after a long tiring practice. But you don’t miss how you hug Jungkook a little tighter and longer compared to the casual ones you share with the others, relishing the warmth of the sweet honey gold that pulses through his veins. To your surprise, he wraps his arms around you as well and the two of you stay in that position for awhile in the quiet of the night. The way his broad chest heaves up and down alongside his slow, steady humming heartbeat serves nothing but as a solace to you.

You feel safe in his arms.

There is truth that you think Jungkook is cute, that you couldn’t deny, alongside the emotionally-constipated but quiet and sincere ways he cares for the people around him. He’s sincere, doesn’t sugar-coat his words and can also be quite the jokester. He doesn’t flirt excessively and make you feel uncomfortable nor does he do anything particularly extravagant to get your heart racing, but your heart still runs a fucking marathon nonetheless.

That night, you only manage to fall asleep after spending hours trying to counter your own thoughts and coax the erratic slamming of your heart against your chest. He’s a child of the cosmos. You wonder if he sings lullabies and waltzes with the stars in his slumber.

You wonder if the stars look at him in defeat, envious of the way he outshines them all. The effulgence he possesses beats the brilliance of all the other stars.

In between shy glances and awkward banter sessions, Jeon Jungkook has slowly become both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

That night, Jungkook’s phone blows up with messages from his teammates and he’s this close to throwing his phone on the wall and strangling them with his bare heads, seniority and all be damned.

[minie hyung] [22:49] jungkookie is getting it [22:49] with y/n our lovely manager!!! 2 qt pies [22:49] [Image]

[best captain in the world] [22:49] damn kid [22:49] it’s only been 2 weeks [22:50] and i didn’t ask y/n to join the team so that you could hit on her??

[jungkook] [22:50] guys wtf I’m not hitting on her!!! [22:50] we’re just friends [22:50] and wtf jimin hyung where were you??? when did you take that pic?

[minie hyung] [22:51] when you 2 were busy staring at each other!! [22:51] i was just walking back home and passed by the store bcs I WAS HUNGRY [22:51] but you were too engrossed in looking at each other and being lovey dovey to notice me but what’s new

[yeontan’s dad] [22:51] y/n’s hella cute tho

[grumpa hyung] [22:52] yeah, really pretty and smart too

[jungkook] [22:52] lmaO say wAT [22:54] she’s mine, just saying [22:55] back the fuck off

[joonie hyung] [22:55] “we’re just friends” he said

[handsome hyung] [22:56] aww our kookie has a crush !! who knew that you were capable of feelings

[jungkook] [22:57] well someone has to take ONE for the team

[best captain in the world] [22:57] wrong interpretation of the phrase kid. [22:58] you just insulted y/n, i’m telling on you

[jungkook] [22:58] NO HYUNG PLEASE DON’T [22:58] I’M SORRY ☹ Y/N PLEASE ☹☹☹ [23:01] hyung????

“So… you and Jungkook, huh?”

Hoseok plumps his ass down dramatically onto the seat beside yours and you, for the nth time, regret choosing that seat on the fifth row on the first day of your English Lit class. Who the hell would have known that you’d sit beside the pesky and loud-as-fuck volleyball captain and end up being extremely good buddies?

“Me and Jungkook?” You tilt your head, though you already have an inkling of what he’s going to bring up. You just wish that he wouldn’t tease you too much about it.

“Yeah, you two have been awfully and shadily close nowadays. You know you’re all that he talks about, right?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at his last sentence. You had no idea at all.

Hoseok catches the flush that runs all the way down to your neck and simpers at your speechless self who’s currently mindlessly picking at your food and avoiding all eye contact.

“And the sexual tension between you two is real. Don’t think the team hasn’t realised. It’s our favourite thing to talk about now. Besides talking about our sexcapades, that is.”

“What the fuck? I totally did not want to know that.”

Shooting him an incredulous glare, you throw a fry at him. The thought of Jungkook engaging in hook-ups bothers the heck out of you and you want to vent all your frustration on your meddlesome friend. You wonder if Jungkook’s as nice to other girls as he is to you, and if there’s another hapless girl who’s in the same plight as you. The thought of it makes you sick.

“Okay, but you must have noticed how intensely Jungkook looks at you. Like he wants to eat you up. Or out.”

“Oh my god, can you not say that so loudly?”

“I speak nothing but the truth, girl.”

“Shu—”

“Speaking of the devil, look who we have here? Your lover boy!” Hoseok guffaws.

Fate is really pulling strings to get the two of you together.

You tilt your head upwards and amidst the bustling students, you spot half of the volleyball team in the middle of the cafeteria – they probably decided to grab lunch together before practice – and then your eyes land on Jungkook, who’s already looking at you with his doe eyes and boyish smile. He’s dressed in his signature look – his favourite oversized black hoodie that practically drowns his physique and grey sweatpants – and damn does he look dashing.

“Guys, over here!”

Hoseok hollers as loud as he can, much to your dismay, diverting all attention to your table and you squirm in your seat with a defeated sigh. As they make their way over, you focus on stuffing your food in your mouth, so you can hurry get the fuck out of here. But before you know it, a tray is settled beside yours and of course, it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

You scowl at your tray, knowing that the guys have obviously left that particular seat empty for Jungkook. From your periphery, he slides into the seat beside yours and your entire body tenses up. Despite having gone out for a meal with him before, you still don’t think you can handle the proximity.

He greets you with a hi and you nod back in response. He has no idea of how his mere presence fills your veins with electricity.

The boys soon fall into a conversation about their rivalry with the other schools and throwing a party before finals to relieve some stress and frustration – you honestly wonder what kind of frustration they’re talking about here.

Sitting with the volleyball players – even just half of the team – for lunch makes you wonder how the heck you agreed to becoming their manager and how you’re still with them because they’re so rowdy and embarrassing. You’d probably feel intimidated by them if you didn’t know them personally, but look at yourself now: you’re part of the team and also hopelessly crushing on their setter, who happens to be sitting right beside you.

“Oh right, Y/N! I have something to show you,” Hoseok coos from across you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively with a sparkle of mirth in his orbs. Interest rekindled, you urge him to spill and he fishes out for his phone from his pocket. At this, you notice Jungkook tense up instantly.

After scrolling through his phone for a few seconds, Hoseok beckons you to lean forward with a shit-eating grin and you have a hunch about what he’s up to.

“The other day, Kookie said some things in the group chat that you might want to see.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook flares up beside you, lurching forward across the width of the table and snatching the phone from Hoseok’s grip before you could even look at the screen properly. “Fuck hyung, you’re such a snake!”

Hoseok only shrugs casually. You have to battle Jungkook yourself if you want to pursue the matter.

“Jungkook, what’s on his phone? Why can’t you show me?”

“Um, i-it’s a secret!” He panics, holding the phone high up and out of your reach.

Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you try to grab it, but Jungkook’s hand is so fucking long that you can’t get the phone within your fingertips regardless of how high you reach out.

“Kook!” You lament, leaning forward to weasel your way to find out why he’s being so shady, but he doesn’t let up and holds the gadget even further away from your reach.

Caught in a frenzy, you don’t realise how your boobs are pressed against his left arm and your other hand is propped onto Jungkook’s thigh. How and when it happened is nebulous. It’s only when your fingers find themselves kneading his thigh that you realise the dire situation you’re in.

Dragging your eyes down to where your hand is at, you halt when you realise that it’s centimetres away from his crotch. Any careless movement and you’ll be brushing against Jungkook’s dick and this very thought sends a small jolt through your body.

Fuck.

The fact that he’s wearing those grey sweats of his doesn’t make things any better as they’re proudly flaunting the distinct outline of his bulge prodding at his sweatpants. Gulping down hard, your whole body freezes up blankly.

Seconds stretch into infinity. When Jungkook realises that you’ve stop persisting, he absentmindedly turns to you and is met with a dangerous view of your cleavage conveniently pressed up against him. But he soon grasps that this isn’t the sole reason why you’ve turned paralysed. When his eyes follow your gaze and find that your hand is milliseconds away from his bulge, he flings Hoseok’s phone onto the table.

“Oh my god, fuck I’m so sorry Jungkook.”

You withdraw your hand away instantly and pry your eyes away from his crotch, though you can’t stop thinking about his bulge. Flopping back into your seat, your limbs turn into goo. You’re definitely going to hell.

He looks up to meet your eyes, fumbling frantically over his words. He wants to bury himself alive.

“It’s ok—I, um, it’s fine, Y/N. It’s okay. Shit—”

He trails off awkwardly and you almost choke at the congealing tension in the air. You swear you could slice it with a knife and then use the same knife to cut Hoseok apart because your friend sure is a devil.

“Gross. Can you guys stop flirting with each other in front of us?” Jimin pipes and you dart your eyes to across the table and see that everyone has their eyes fastened upon the two of you with amused expressions. You close your eyes and wince – maybe if you close your eyes long enough, you’ll disappear into thin air.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly and stares hard at his food. He takes a little peek at his crotch and dies a little more inside upon realising that he’s popped a boner in the fucking cafeteria just from your touch. Fingers tugging down the hem of his hoodie, he hopes that you wouldn’t look down and notice it.

The next few minutes of lunch pass by agonisingly with you fuming silently in your chair, looking more like an aggravated hamster than anything with your flustered face and crease on your forehead.

Every time Hoseok reaches over to pet your head, he’s attacked by an icy glare and a hard kick to his shin from the boy sitting two seats opposite him. But he also notices how Jungkook melts at the roses flaring across your cheeks. He’s so whipped. Their golden setter is so fucking whipped and he has no clue what to do about it.

It’s D-20 to the start of the season. The team needs to kick their training into high gear if they want to be ready in time for their first official match and that means absolutely no slacking and only two hundred percent during training and friendlies.

That goes the same for you too. You’ve been busy coming up with strategies for each player and organising friendlies with neighbouring schools. It’s hard to arrange friendlies due to time constraints and it took you tons of phone calls and paperwork, but you manage to secure a session with Hongik University just before the start of the season.

You’re just returning to the sports hall after walking the Hongik team to their bus when a loud bedlam from inside catches your attention. Rushing into the sports hall, you see the SNU players huddled in a circle, tension evident in the air. Arms are being recklessly thrown about and bodies are being shoved.

Squinting your eyes, you take in the breadth of the agitated shoulders and your stomach drops when your mind registers the number 9 on the jersey.

Jungkook.

A wave of panic hits you square in the chest. From where you’re standing, you watch Taehyung grab him on the shoulders to calm him down. The setter retaliates by flinging his arm, turning to your direction in the process. He is livid, cheeks flushed red with eyebrows furrowed as he proceeds to grab another teammate by the collar.

Number 1.

Hoseok.

This sends your stomach flying into a sequence of contortions.

You’ve never seen Jungkook this furious before, normally so composed with his feelings. This very sight gets your blood rushing frenziedly, especially how he’s this close to socking Hoseok in the face – Hoseok, his captain whom he respects so much.

Ignoring the fear that catches in your throat and freezes the breath in your lungs, your legs take you across the court as fast as they can.

Jungkook freezes and drops his fists instantly when he spots you approaching. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice and under your worried gaze, he feels the world crumble at his feet. He feels like he’s the shittiest person in the entire world.

You reach out for him with unsteady fingers, but he recoils at the slightest touch of your fingertips, distress and chagrin all over his face. A series of frustrated grunts and curses escapes his lips before he stomps off the court with heavy footsteps, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates as he barrels out of the door and slams it shut.

You stare blankly at the door, bombarded with a tumult of conflicted emotions. You contemplate running after him, but you understand that Jungkook probably wants some alone time to cool down. So you choose not to, staying behind to check on Hoseok while the others fill you in about the argument.

“I kept missing Jungkook’s tosses and he got mad at himself for not tossing high enough for me, but it’s not even his fault,” Taehyung explains apprehensively. “He was in a bad mood throughout the match, so we lost. After that, Hoseok-hyung went to talk to him and Jungkook started lashing it out on him.”

His lips quiver at the thought of him causing the argument, so you put your hand on his shoulder and offer him a small smile.

“Y/N, check on him for me, please?” Hoseok walks towards you and pats your back softly. You could only nod, because knowing the setter, he’s probably beating himself up right now.

Torn ligaments, twisted joints and sore shoulders: they all heal with time, but disappointing the team is a heavy weight to carry, especially for setters.

It’s the setter’s role to bring out the best of their teammates, to know each of their strengths and weaknesses and adapt accordingly to each player’s skills. And it’s also the setter’s fault if his teammates keep missing his tosses. It’s his fault for their loss today.

Jungkook’s limbs feel so heavy that it’s as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. No one is blaming him. Not to his face, at least. But he knows that he has led them down and his self-deprecating thoughts are so loud that he can literally drown in them. He might look like a dense guy, but there’s a tenacious hurricane living in his mind.

Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth and locks his fists, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill. Maybe if he practices harder, maybe if he doesn’t fuck up that often, maybe if he disappears, the team will be better—

“Hey Kook.”

He snaps out of his trance when his ears perk up at the familiar voice. Blinking his tears away, he sees you with the same concerned gaze and feels a sharp tug at his heartstrings at the very sight of your worried expression.

You lower yourself to meet him and press a cool water bottle to his forehead. The sudden coldness makes him look up and the tugs soon multiply rapidly when you smile softly at him, moving to sit beside him.

You don’t talk for a good three minutes, letting the silence weave itself comfortably into the spaces between you two. You don’t really know what to say and you don’t want to force him to talk either.

“You’re always saving my ass.”

Jungkook shatters the unnerving silence with a sigh.

Your lips curl up at his attempt of lightening up the mood. “Maybe that’s because I’m your manager?”

All hardness of his features soon disappear and he looks like a scared bunny. Honestly, you just want to give him a tight hug until you take away all his sorrows.

“I mean, beyond being our manager… You always seem to be around whenever I mess up. You’re like my personal cheerleader,” Jungkook laughs.

His laughter is a sweet symphony to your ears, prompting a small bubble of laughter to escape your lungs too. “Out of all things, I especially don’t want to be your personal cheerleader.”

Your relationship with Jungkook has developed by leaps and bounds over the past few months. From being awkward strangers who could barely hold eye contact for more than two seconds, to a cordial manager-player relationship, and to the good friends (minus the bashful smiles, burning cheeks and occasional NSFW thoughts) who look out for each other that you are today. It’s amazing how much you two have opened up to each other.

“Y/N, do you think I’m self-centred?” He asks suddenly. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like… this. I wished I had a better control of my emotions, but sometimes it’s just really hard, you know…”

His words clog in his throat and he swallows them meekly.

Your heart gnaws at the way he views himself.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re not self-centred, Kook. In fact, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. And I know it’s hard – it’s normal to feel frustrated. Everyone’s feeling the pressure, but your feelings are valid even on bad days.”

“So… you’re not going to scold me for picking a fight with my teammates? With Hoseok-hyung?”

“You think I came here to do that?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles and looks away glumly.

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him softly, urging him to turn towards you. “I came here because I know that you feel responsible for losing today. You’re angry at yourself for Taehyung’s slip-up.”

“Y-You know? How?”

“Hmm, I notice a lot of things about you, Kook. You just don’t realise it.”

An acknowledgment between a whine and a ‘hmm’ escapes from the setter’s lips, so quizzical and innocent that he sounds like a bunny.

“It’s just… I’m the setter and I’m supposed to be the core of the team so if we don’t do well, it’s on me. It’s my fault… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

The remainder of Jungkook’s sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as he shuts his eyes, remembering the commotion he caused.

“But it’s not your fault, you know that right?”

“I—”

“Do you know how much the team looks up to you? You’re indispensable. The guys depend on your skills, your experiences and trust in them. Yes, the team could have done this and that – a lot of things could have been improved – but we shouldn’t be focusing on the could haves. This is why we practice and practice. You’ll do better next time, I’m sure.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” you turn to him, settling your hand on top of his. “You are Jeon Jungkook and all of your teammates have faith in you. Myself included.”

“You?” Stupefied, his voice comes out as a soft whisper.

“I’m your teammate too, right? Oh, and also your personal cheerleader. I mean, this title was kind of forced on me but I’ll take it if it makes you smile – just like how you’re smiling right now.”

Jungkook merely shakes his head with a soft smile and raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you. He chuckles when you jump slightly, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory and though you would have liked to stare a little longer, you have to stop yourself, so you avert your gaze. The pink flush threatening to dot your cheeks is lethal and you can’t afford Jungkook knowing your true feelings.

He then squirms closer, eliminating any space in between you two, and rests his weight on you. Before you know it, he’s lowering his head on your shoulder and your heart soars at the intimacy.

He feels warm beside you. He’s always mysteriously warm and it’s the kind of warmth that brings you nothing but comfort. You resist the urge to press closer against him and tilt your head to match his, still too stricken to move a muscle. He continues fidgeting, until his nose finds the crook of your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” Jungkook murmurs and you almost don’t catch it.

“What’s nice?”

“That you’re here.”

Golden stardust bursts within you upon his words, doing absolutely nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest, but you try to conceal the joy in your voice.

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Until I get sick of managing you idiots, but I also need extracurricular points, so I’ll still be here, whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.”

Lowering his gaze to the ground, he repeats with an earnestness that wakes up the hummingbird of your heart with a gentle pat on its head. “I like it a lot.”

You can almost imagine Jungkook serenading it with a lullaby – you know he would.

There’s no denying the sudden lightheaded feeling you get from the sweet calm of his presence. You can’t ignore how your wandering eyes are always somehow meeting his sparkly ones and how they rest on you longer than they should, rendering you breathless every single time.

While Jungkook is energetic and burning with passion, slightly insecure and childlike in his own dumb Jeon Jungkook ways like a young fire, you, on the other hand, are perceptive and calm, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer day that sways the knee-high grass in the meadows. And maybe this is why he adores you so much, for you are each other’s opposite and complement.

You used to be skeptical about the idea of love and hate all sorts of uncertainties, but that was until you found a new home in the galaxy of Jungkook’s eyes.

“Shall we head back?”

He stands up, looking as determined as ever. He offers his hand to help you up and you gladly reach for it. To your surprise, Jungkook slips his fingers into yours wordlessly and any hope of catching your breath fizzles out.

The two of you walk back to the court with comets dancing across your rosy cheeks and smiles brighter than the celestials in Jungkook’s eyes.

He’s hella whipped for you – that he will willingly admit defeat. There isn’t a definite time or date when he realised that he has his little crush on you, or when that little crush has graduated into a serious, ardent adoration for you. It’s a gradual plummeting; a peaceful and clandestine descent before his heart was willingly taken hostage by you.

You’re catastrophically beautiful, completely detrimental to the feeble defences of his heart. You never fail to soothe the storms in his mind with your lulling presence. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in him and to be very honest, he is utterly petrified, but he wants to try, if it’s with you.

The world around you is spinning.

As part of their team bonding efforts and to relieve some stress before the season, the team has decided to throw a party at Hoseok and Namjoon’s frat house, which only means: a fuck ton of alcohol and unruly volleyball players with no brain or mouth filter whatsoever.

After chugging seven shots of vodka and four shots of suspicious mixtures that were handed to you, you’re more than just out of it. Everything is fuzzy and ten folds funnier, liquid confidence smouldering within your bloodstream. The amount of alcohol in your system is enough to make heat pool in your stomach and send your thoughts into a frenzy.

You’re aware that you’re badly smashed, but for fuck’s sake, you don’t understand why you can’t stop having nasty thoughts about the boy sitting in front of you.

Opposite you, Jungkook is watching his embarrassing teammates sputter into a howling bout of laughter with an amused grin. From his half-lidded eyes, he’s a little out of it, but he still looks fucking good and this causes your chest to swell.

You’ve made eye contact with him for the fifteenth time within the past two hours. Much could be said in the language of stealth. It’s as though you two enjoy this little game of the push and pull attraction of two magnets. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes that never fails to ignite a deep fire in your bones, washing your senses away. As you imploringly pry yourself away from his intense gaze, you turn to see Hoseok flashing you his most annoying grin ever.

“Fuck off,” you mouth, knowing exactly what your idiot of a friend is about to say, but this only urges him to tease you even more and you want to sock him in the face.

Without wiping that annoying smirk off his face, he leans forward and whispers into your ear, “You two little shitheads have been eye-fucking each other the entire time.”

“Wha—”

“He probably has a boner right now. Just look at him trying to cover it up.”

Your eyes search for Jungkook. Shifting uncomfortably with a cushion planted on top of his lap, his irises suddenly dart all over the room to avoid looking anywhere near you.

You gulp down.

He has a boner?

The voice in your mind screams at you hysterically and you can almost hear the smile in her tone. He has a boner. A fucking boner! Fuck.

How your thoughts run from wanting to tape Hoseok’s mouth so that he’ll shut up for the first time in his life to imagining yourself taking care of Jungkook’s hard-on is beyond you. The mere thought of Jungkook’s hard dick strained against his jeans gets your mind whirling with images of you kneeling on your knees, kissing the head of his dick before taking him completely in your mouth and blowing him till he comes.

Between glowing cheeks and averted eyes, you abandon the righteous battle with your morals, knowing exactly what you want.

You want him. You want him to fuck you senseless until you forget your own name.

These thoughts send a bolt of heated pleasure straight to your core, causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

Frenziedly, your eyes trail back to the setter and you notice him fidgeting uneasily under your gaze. Fuck, you’re not freaking drunk enough for this. You reach out to grab the drink from Hoseok and down the deathly concoction that he probably made with the intention of getting downright wasted. Seconds after your brave and reckless act, you wince at the burn of your throat.

Hopes of washing your cacophonous, lustful thoughts away with the burning liquor go in vain because it’s just simply fucking impossible. This has morphed into a battle of brain and heart. Your heart definitely knows what it wants: for Jungkook to take you there and then, but your brain is screaming at you to stop being so concupiscent. But since when have you ever listened to your brain? Jungkook probably doesn’t even think of you that way. Poor boy’s probably going to be mortified when he finds out how ready you are to bend over for him.

Shoving Hoseok away in embarrassment because you’re ashamed that that bitch has caught you red-handed, you decide to hide in one of the rooms to clear your head because the living room is an intolerable place to catch your breath and rid your filthy thoughts when everyone is raucously downing shots and screaming at one another. You may be a wreck, but this place is a breeding place for hell and havoc. So much for team bonding.

After finding your way through the maze of sloppy and rowdy drunks, you spot a bedroom down the hall – yes that’s right, Hoseok’s room. Hopefully, that will teach him a lesson for perpetually feeding off your misery.

In your drunken state, it takes you a few fumble attempts to ease the door open and when you see one of the boys sitting on the edge of the bed, you know you’re utterly fucked.

Jungkook.

With a cup of vodka in hand, looking as irresistibly riveting as ever.

A whimper finds its way lodged in your throat and you’re unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd situation, because ending up in the same room with the boy whom you’ve been trying to avoid the entire night because you couldn’t stop thinking about sucking his dick dry is truly ridiculous.

His eyes widen when he finds you at the door and his lips can’t help but part to expose his teeth at your surprised and shit-faced expression.

“Y/N?” He slurs, voice raspy, and you grasp that he, just like you and everyone else in this apartment, is wasted as fuck, so you should definitely leave before you do something that you’ll regret. You’re about to turn on your heels and hide from him for the night and well, the rest of your life, but the alcohol pulsing through your veins screams at you to fuck it and go against your thoughts.

“Hey,” you mumble, closing the door behind you.

“You okay?” Even in your drunken state, you can still hear the worry burning at the edges of his usually composed voice. You nod as he pats the space beside him and you amble towards him.

“It was too noisy. Had to take a breather in somewhere quiet,” he mumbles, raising his cup to his lips.

“Me too.”

The two of you continue to sit in silence, drinking in the moment of weird stillness and suffering from the whirlpool in your heads. At the speed that your thoughts are racing at, it’s a feat how your mind is still functioning – how it can still coherently form lewd thoughts and images of Jungkook buried in between your thighs.

You need to tame the fire that’s flaring viciously within you before you lose control and pounce on him. For what it’s worth, you notice that he has been anxiously fidgeting with his cup, downing it for the nth time in the past five minutes. You’re pretty sure that he’s drinking nothing and is probably just as nervous as you.

Deciding that anywhere would be better than being stuck in a room with the boy whom you can’t stop lusting for, you break the silence, “Um, maybe I… should go—”

When you stand up to leave, Jungkook frantically leans forward and grabs hold of your wrist, pulling you towards him. He hasn’t meant to do it, but you somehow end up toppling over, bones liquefied by the booze.

The room starts to spin even faster, your orbs flickering back and forth. Your body is planted snug on top of his thighs, your hands and boobs pressed against his broad chest and your crotch against his bulge.

Arms firm around your waist, his body heat zaps your skin with a fiery warmth, flaring up your neck and ripening your features with an unbridled lust. For the briefest of moments, you swear you feel his dick twitch beneath you and the way he gulps down his saliva hard confirms that he bears the exact same thoughts.

“Oops, sorry,” you giggle, feeling an abrupt surge of high from the alcohol. You push against him to steady yourself, but he doesn’t let up, arms still locked around your befuddled self.

Another deafening silence descends. Even in your intoxicated state, you can still hear the thumping of your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums. You two look into each other’s eyes, unmoving. You can’t tell much from Jungkook’s eyes since they’re droopy and hazy, but he’s looking at you so intensely that it sends another zap of electricity down your spine and to your arousal. You subconsciously rub your thighs together and his lips curl up into a smirk when he realises the effect he has on you.

“Y/N,” Jungkook whispers hoarsely and he leans in till he’s dangerously close, till the delicate graze of his mouth transgresses the juncture between your jaw and ear and a familiar prickle of gooseflesh tremor moves along your neck at the sudden proximity.

“You’re so beautiful.”

A cascade of warmth starts to pour into your abdomen, the intimacy of the moment suddenly drawing upon you. You can even smell the alcohol from his breath and it’s inebriating, making you wetter than ever.

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathes into your ear and you jerk your head in bewilderment, eyes wide and ears ringing. You hesitate and wonder if he’s joking, but he shows no sign of teasing; just a look of patience and sincerity.

“Y-Yeah,” your words come out practically as a whimper and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly inches forward.

When he presses his lips against yours, a fizzle of electricity runs through your veins. His lips are everything that you’ve imagined – soft and warm. Intoxicating.

He parts them slightly, enough to capture yours nicely, and presses in a little firmer. The tip of his tongue shyly licks at your bottom lip, coaxing you in more, and you feel like melting in honey.

Greedy for more, you chase his tongue and he chuckles in satisfaction, tangling his tongue with yours. God, he can taste the vodka and sprite on you and as silly as it sounds, he thinks this is the best mix he has ever tasted.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair and tugging softly at them.

“Fuck. I want to do bad things to you,” he exhales with a little whine, hands smoothing up the expanse of your back.

Despite your drunken, flummoxed state, you manage to hear him loud and clear. A deeper surge of tabooed desire runs through your veins at the thought of Jungkook getting turned on by you. You imagine him getting off to thoughts of you, desperate for your touch. You wonder what kind of risqué fantasies he has of you and if they’re as filthy as yours.

“Like what?”

“Urgh Y/N, please don’t make me say it out loud. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to tell you that I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” You ask, voice laced with a barely restrained frustration.

“I want to strip you bare and fuck you. Right. Now.”

“How badly?” You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly. It’s almost impossible to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing low in your stomach.

“So fucking bad,” he groans, gnawing at his bottom lips anxiously. “B-But not today… I want it to be done properly.”

You sulk blatantly, tugging at his hair again.

Cupping your cheeks, he lowers his forehead to meet yours and chuckles, “It has to be somewhere perfect for you. N-Not in my captain’s dirty ass room.”

“But Kook,” you protest with a whine and press yourself against him. His entire body tenses up when your cold hands begin to roam, slipping underneath his shirt and tracing the hot flesh of his chiselled abs.

“God, you’re such a tease. Fuck you.”

The desperation in Jungkook’s voice is shameless and he’s this to close to surrendering at the hands of your intoxicated dirty self.

“Please do,” you whimper frivolously against his neck, licking at the tender exposed skin. The heat between your legs is so intense that it’s starting to ache with need.

“Y/N—”

“Fuck, I fucking love your thighs.”

It must be the alcohol talking, but fuck it. You’re going to follow your heart’s desire.

“W-What?”

He stiffens underneath when your nimble fingers graze along the inside of this thighs.

“Do you know how distracting your thighs are when you wear those volleyball shorts?”

“You were staring at my thighs?” The teasing lilt caressing the edges of his voice doesn’t escape your ears.

“Your thighs are fucking thick. It’s too tempting to look away.”

The winning moment of liquid courage takes over your brain completely and you can’t help but moan unabashedly when Jungkook’s fingers slip under your dress, grazing your skin languidly.

“I-I want to ride your thigh.”

There. You said it, embarrassment drowned in giddy anticipation and longing ages ago.

Jungkook grunts despairingly. Every single nerve-ending of his is aflame, skin tingling with ferocious desire.

You are going to the bane of his existence.

“Please?” You beg wantonly, aching to be touched.

In sly discretion, you press your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction that will make your throbbing need easier to bear and Jungkook clicks his tongue in fake annoyance, shooting you a glare when he realises what you’re doing.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re trying to kill me. I’ve had a hard-on ever since you arrived.”

You giggle, noticing how his normally-doe eyes darken with rampant lust and you rub your thighs even more.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So beautiful. Fuck my life.”

He rolls his lower half suggestively, allowing you to detail the thick profile of his length – underneath lies a furious red begging to be touched and sucked.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructs, eyes glassy with lust and desire, inducing another wave of lechery to consume your insides.

Without any hesitation, you adjust your position on his thigh to make yourself at home, torso melding against his and this fucking turns you on like no other. Eyes rolled back into your head, you start to grind on his thigh, shuddering blissfully at the hard ridges of muscles against your dripping core.

Pleased with your reaction, he flexes his thighs with a satisfied smirk and a shiver traverses your entire body, leaving you with a spasm of nerves. You wail his name out loud – knowing that the others outside probably can’t hear it and your whimpers increase in volume and pitch when his fingers linger around the elastic of your panties, before palming your ass cheeks to anchor you closer to him.

You moan at his touch, begging for more. The wetness in between your thighs has long ruined your underwear and Jungkook’s jeans.

“Fuck, your ass,” he grunts loudly from the back of his throat, finding purchase on your ass cheeks and kneading them with a vice-like and desperate grip.

“The guys were talking about how cute your ass is and I told them to shut the fuck up. Do you know how fucking hard I get when you bend over to pick up the volleyballs? I always have to spend hours jerking off after practice.”

You moan in response, light-headed from the mental image. Jacking off in the locker room is not anything new or a taboo among the guys. But Jungkook always spends a longer time than the others in the cubicle to curb the pulsating urges between his legs. The mere thought of you, innocently batting your long lashes at him and being so intimate with him, has always been enough to make him cum.

Wiped over by another intense surge of lust, you grow an ardent urge to touch him more. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to see in this world, it’s like a battle of waits between predator and prey, but you are lucidly aware of what you want.

Slipping your hand between your bodies, your fingers trail down from his toned abs to graze against the prominent outline of his clothed bulge and it grows to its full hardness almost immediately from your touch. You haven’t even seen his dick yet, but fuck, you really, really want a taste of Jungkook’s dick.

“I-I want your dick. So bad. Please, Jungkookie. Please?”

You’re so filthy that you don’t even recognise yourself. Moving your hand along his length, you stroke him through the two layers of material, but you can still feel the heat of his cock against your palm. Just as you’re about to unzip his jeans, he stops you to your disappointment.

“No, not today,” he manages to breathe out, nearly at his wit’s end. His voice is about to crack from his insatiable hunger for you, while you groan despondently in response.

Jungkook’s fingers trace along the length of your neck until they find their way into your hair and run through them as he leans down to the crook of your neck. You shiver when his breaths coast on the exposed skin of your throat before he nips gingerly on your skin, soft one moment and dirty the next, relishing how it makes you jump.

God, he can smell you at this proximity. Your favourite citrus and lavender scent. He stifles a laugh at how you can still smell so tantalisingly innocent when you’re so fucking needy for him. His dick grows even harder, turned on by the stark difference in your character and this makes it even harder for him to prevent blowing his load there and then.

He desperately wants to pin you down, strip you bare, explore your body in all of its magnificence, memorise every crevice of your body and then fuck your brains out till his name is the only thing you know. But he needs to hold himself back, not wanting it done sloppily at a party and especially not when you’re drunk, but he’s this close to joining the dark side.

White stars begin to dot the edges of his vision.

He digs his fingers into your waist to press you closer to him, thigh bouncing rhythmically so your clit brushes against a different area of his toned thigh each time. It brings a euphoric sensation to your core, the tingles spreading fast and sending you near delirious. A writhing wreck, you can only fall limp against his chest, muffling your stuttering whimpers. You wish he’d let you come apart with his fingers, but the way he’s grinding his thigh up against your clit is intoxicating enough, much more than the alcohol in your blood.

“That’s it,” he smirks, watching you grind your hips back and forth with a lustful gaze and you reach up to kiss his neck to exhibit your high.

“You like this?”

“Fucking,” you mewl wantonly, tugging at his tousled locks. The heat radiating from Jungkook’s body burns addictively and sharp intakes of air occur against your lips, leaving your throat to run dry. “Love it.”

He grins at your honesty, more spurred to make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you and your pleasure. Hovering over him, you let your mouth hang open and inhale each other in. His breath coasts on your cheeks when he pulls away for air, only to dive back into the pristine juncture of your throat, attacking the delicate skin, searching and starving. He doesn’t stop sucking and running his tongue across your skin till your neck is painted with lilac bruises, till he’s satisfied with his very own masterpiece.

“J-Jungkook, please.”

With a predatory gaze, he watches how your breasts bounce with each rock of your hips and leans south to trail his tongue down your cleavage. You hook your arm around his neck, soft whimpers leaving your mouth when the pleasure overpowers you till you can’t even find your voice. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, burying his face into your chest.

Discovering the pleasant weight of your breasts and the firm peaks of your nipples against his calloused palms, he kneads them hungrily, fuelling the growing pressure that’s culminating in the pit of your stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot.”

A combination of a hoarse moan and gasp is strangled out of Jungkook’s throat from the depths of his lungs. His spine straightens as his body locks up over the sudden onslaught of pleasure. The slick noises of your folds against his thigh are almost deafening now, filthy to the core, but not as erotic as your moans. He honestly can’t believe this is happening, after his many fantasies of being this intimate with you.

“Jungkook,” you moan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “I’m cl-close.”

“Come for me, baby.”

The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth when he runs a finger down your clothed core, further tightening that coil in your belly. You feel so vulnerable under his command, but his dominance lights up your nerves like fireworks. You fucking love it.

Jungkook’s leg starts bouncing faster and the otherworldly sensation sends you over the edge. Your nails dig deeper into his biceps to stable yourself as your legs begin to shake, stomach knotting. You choke back a sob as you jerk your hips up, moaning an incoherent string of curse words and his name all mixed in one. The sight of your lovely face hovers over his, your swollen mouth hanging apart, eyes half-lidded in a torrent of bliss and neck messily painted in purple bruises.

Jungkook holds your hips down to help you with your high, whispering sweet praises into your ear as his hands stroke your sides. He lifts his leg ever so slightly, dragging the hard muscles against your core once again until you snap your eyes shut, your entire body briefly locked up and dispersed into a series of erratic spasms.

The idyllic blinding white fades to only a shimmer at the edges of your eyes. You slump forward, burying your face into his chest. Seconds after, he follows suit, coming untouched in his pants.

Head still buried in his chest, Jungkook wraps his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug. He breathes heavily against his work of art on your neck and jerks up when reality hits him square in the face.

Your breath is still ragged in your lungs, forehead rested on his shoulder as he gently rubs comforting circles on your back. You’ve ridden off most of the intoxication, but you still can’t think straight. Not when Jungkook is nipping at the soft lobe of your ear, an attempt to coax you into relaxing.

“That was… wow.”

He breaks the silence with a sheepish smile as he pushes the messy strands of your hair away from your face, gingerly running his thumb over your rubescent cheeks. He leans his head down to meet your forehead, brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe out softly and he can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind.

“You don’t… regret it, do you? Fuck, I’m so sorry… We’re both drunk and I shouldn—”

“No! Of course not,” you shake your head, “I-I liked it.”

“You liked it?” From the lilt that caresses the edges of his voice, he’s clearly enjoying this.

“Urgh, shut the hell up!”

Even in his post-snogging and thigh-riding state, he still looks incredible. He’s just so delicate and nice to you that it’s almost unreal – it’s like being in a dream. He looks at you like you hold the stars in the night sky with utter adoration, before pecking a soft kiss on your forehead.

At this very moment, you realise that you’re irrevocably, hopelessly and unabashedly in love with him and there’s no turning back, not when the stars in his eyes are twinkling with nothing but love.

Jungkook and you aren’t exactly a thing. Not yet. Sure, you guys hang out exclusively and all like before, but neither of you has popped the question or sat down to delve into the daunting topic of Feelings.

The morning after, both of you wake up to tangled limbs, bad morning breaths, bashful smiles and memories of last night’s dalliance. He tells you to give him some time because honestly, he thinks he needs all the time he can have to ensure that he does this relationship thingy properly with you. The last thing he would want is to fuck things up with you. And you tell him that you’ll wait for him, because you know how hard things have been on him. Juggling between volleyball and school work is tough enough, so you don’t want to give him more pressure.

However, you realise that there have been several changes regarding the way he acts with and around you. Whether it’s because of that intimate night or stress from volleyball (or both), Jungkook has become so much touchier with you – he’s always wanting to hold your hand and keeping you by his side. Displaying of affection is also more common in front of his teammates, but it’s not like you have anything against it. He probably needs more attention and affection since the season is only days away.

After a series of friendlies, the season has finally begun and the boys have never been readier, all prepared to be crowned as champions. With your clipboard attached to your hand, you unwaveringly multitask between watching the semi-final match and taking down notes for the boys.

Their semi-final match is with Yonsei University. While you’re pale in the face standing at the sidelines, the boys are determined and embody a degree of calmness on the court, their nerves submerged by the jolts of adrenaline. They’ve got the upper hand with Yonsei and their win is guaranteed, but it’s impossible not to feel anxious.

The crowd cheers as Jungkook tosses the ball to Taehyung at a calculated height and precision and the latter spikes it down before their opponents even have time to blink. The incident from last month comes to mind. You’re glad that he has learnt to have more confidence and trust in himself and his teammates, though he dedicates this improvement to you and your calming presence.

"You're at set-point, so please focus. And don't do anything dumb," you tease, placing your hands on your hips and faking a scowl at him as he unblinkingly hovers over you. You remember how you used to be afraid by their builds, but you’ve grown slightly accustomed after awhile, though there’s one thing that you think you’ll never get used to: the way Jungkook looks at you with stars dancing in his eyes.

“I’m kidding, kiddo. You’ll do well like always, okay? I know you will. Now go there and kick some ass.”

He nods and downs the water bottle that you’ve handed to him before pouring the remaining over his head. His action doesn’t surprise you anymore as you already have a towel ready to wipe him dry.

But what takes you aback is when he grabs you by your shoulders and leans down to meet your eyes. You open your mouth, ready to lament about him touching you with his clammy hands, but retract upon seeing the change in Jungkook’s demeanour.

Despite the loud cheers from all four directions, Jungkook can hear his heart racing loudly in his ears. Just before the whistle pierces through the court to signal the end of time-out, he traces your jaw with his fingertips and whispers into your ear, his mellifluous voice softer than snow, “I have something that I need to tell you after the game.”

Tinges of affection waltzes with the stars in his pupils. He looks at you like you hold his entire world on the tips of your fingers, like he just needs you for everything to be okay.

Lacing your fingers together, warmth seeps from his palm into yours like a soft, comforting hum and you know exactly what he wants to tell you.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting here.”

With a sliver of hope, he jogs back to the court. It’s now his turn to serve. With that same palm that just held yours, he gallantly performs the best serve of his life, one that spirals off his palm to shoot through the hole between the other team’s back line, clinching a safe spot for SNU in the finals.

After five long sets, SNU wins Yonsei by a landslide and the team gets an evening off before they resume practice the next day. Jungkook seizes this chance to take you out for dinner, somewhere that isn’t at the convenience store.

The sky is already soaked in sparse hues of navy and black, and the silence of the night becomes even more endearing due to Jungkook’s mere presence by your side. He’s nervous, you can tell, even more than this morning, from the way he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his shoes, as though he’s about to combust.

His vision zones in on how your bottom lip is caught between your teeth – a habit of yours whenever you’re unsure, so he takes you into his arms and intertwines your fingers together. You relax involuntarily when he starts rubbing circles onto your palm.

Jungkook cranes his neck up, lips grazing the shell of your ear and you shudder at his warm breath fanning against your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your neck.

He wraps one hand around your waist and looks deeply into your orbs, as though he’s spellbound by the iridescent glint in your eyes and the roses flaring up across your cheeks under the sliver of moonlight.

And in the velvet of the summer night, he gingerly whispers, with utter adoration swelling his chest to the size of the moon. The words that you have repeatedly dreamed of him to say. The words that you’ve been wanting to tell him. The words that have been trapped hidden behind his heart for the longest time.

“I love you.”

You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks with his thumb.

“Kook,” you breathe out softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He repeats in a tone three notches deeper, paired with an earnestness that gets your heart ricocheting in your ribcage.

“I knew there was something about you when you joined us on the first day… And I confirmed it after sacrificing my own nose.”

“Sacrifice? You mean it was on purpose?” A sparkle of mirth glimmers in your eyes under the hazy yellow light.

“I normally don’t get distracted, but I couldn’t help but get upset when you came back into the court laughing with Seokjin-hyung. I was still staring at you when I got hit on the face.”

“You’re so silly, but at least your boopy nose is still cute. I love your nose.”

“And my thighs, right?”

You blush fervently at the memory of that night.

“Fuck Y/N, I just confessed to you and all you do is tell me that you love my nose,” he laughs, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your cheek.

Your lips curl up into a smile. “Kiss me?”

“I will give you the entire world if you asked me to.”

His whisper is so earnest and affectionate that it makes you feel like melting.

In a graceful sweep, he pulls you closer by the hips, finding purchase on your waist. The first touch is similar to the caress of a feather, so light that you could barely feel it. The tip of his tongue skims over the rosy flesh of your bottom lip, eliciting goosebumps that tingle along the nape of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling like you’re plummeting into a bottomless pit.

Jungkook’s lips are soft, a little chapped, as they meld to yours. He kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you before, like it’s your first time being completely vulnerable to each other, like planets condemned by gravity to collide.

Images of him moaning shamelessly beneath you as you grind on his thigh and him kneading your ass get completely fizzed out of your memory. You can only think of him kissing you, how tenderly he’s holding onto you, how sweet his lips taste onto yours and how sincere he is on stealing your breath.

You can only think of how the objection of your affection is coruscating before you as he sprinkles his personal collection of stardust onto your lips, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

You feel golden.

Like you’re lying on a bed of sunflowers, drifting alongside the movement of summer’s light towards glistening honey.

A whimper lodges itself in your throat, bubbling against Jungkook’s lips and even in the darkness behind your eyelids, you can vividly picture the crescent of his smile forming against your lips.

The tip of his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you part your lips to let him in entirely. You reach out and caress the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss, jumping slightly in surprise when his fingers splay gingerly over your waist, tugging at the hem at your shirt languidly. Your mind has long become a labyrinth of little streets that you have difficulty navigating, sent into a turmoil by how sweet his love tastes. It’s insane how much you yearn for his burning touch.

You inch away slowly and your eyes land on his, now glistening with solar debris that sends instant palpitations to your heart. He stares at you longingly, like he can’t believe that you’re really here in front of him, cocooned up against his body and adoration swells in his chest. He feels like combusting, but he also feels like hugging you and having you all to himself till the end of time.

“You know how I feel for you, right?” You mumble, looking deep into his orbs.

Jungkook notices how your bottom lip is taut between your teeth and the hint of a blush is still glowing effervescently on your cheeks. You’re beautiful. A visual spectacle, a sight to behold. You’re so beautiful that his chest constricts, lungs taking a sparse second to remember how to fucking breathe normally again.

“Remind me?” He whispers back.

You let out a giggle at how ardently Jungkook is gazing at you and how lovely he looks right now, exhilaration gleaming like a kaleidoscope of stars in his eyes.

This time, you lean in, planting your lips on the rosy flesh on his mouth and he softens. Kissing him is akin to drinking hot chocolate on a rainy winter day, snuggling under your warm quilt after a long day and dancing in the rain. It feels like weaving through time and space.

Pulling away, he lets out another one of his boyish laughs, tugging at your heartstrings for the umpteenth time that night before dusting kisses over every inch of your blushing features, exhaling words of love against your skin. You see galaxies sprawled all over in the darkness of your closed eyelids.

“I love you Jeon Jungkook,” you breathe out, gracing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much and I swear by the stars in your eyes.”

“Are you… wearing Jungkook’s jersey from last season or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” Hoseok quips, eyebrows raised.

“Oh.”

You look down at your attire – Jungkook’s old jersey and a pair of denim jeans. “Yeah, he made me wear it and now I feel like some frat boy’s hoe.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Hell knows what the kid did while wearing that jersey, probably jerked off in it like a million times. Oh and he also sweats a lot – I know it’s been washed and all, but it’s literally a sweat-drenched shirt. Unless you’re into that kink…? Like Jungkook’s sweat? Hit me up, baby.”

You throw the nearest object at him – your clipboard, clocking him square in the chest, though the boy remains unperturbed.

“Listen, I’m really happy that you’re here with us. You’ve been with us for only three months, but you’ve been of such great help to the team and we all really appreciate you being here. So yeah, thank you?”

“It’s so weird that you’re being nice to me,” you chortle. “But no worries, dude. I somehow like suffering, so I like being the team’s manager.”

“Well, you have Jungkook now – take it as a thank you gift from the team, won’t you? He’s a good human sacrifice for the satanic you,” Hoseok waggles his eyebrows greasily.

“Fuck off,” you sneer back, rolling your eyes.

“Jungkook is a great guy, really, even though he’s an overgrown, emo baby bunny,” he quotes himself and you recall what happened the first time you met Jungkook. “But I’m just really happy for the both of you.”

Time really doesn’t wait for no one.

Amidst a whirlwind of tiring training sessions, worn-out limbs and bottles of protein shakes, three months have come and gone in a blink of an eye. Your first season with the volleyball team is approaching an end.

It’s finally D-day and everyone has been waiting for this since forever – their final match with Hanyang University.

The game passes in flashes of white, alongside the voices of excitement and desperation, hand signs and bruises that stacked up quicker than their attacks. They're ferociously neck and neck with Hanyang – both teams are refusing to relent, tightening up their plays and leaving fewer and fewer loopholes in their game as they vie for match point of their fifth and final set.

Your lips are probably chapped from biting on them, bearing the brunt of anxiety, as you continue to chant please, please let them win to yourself.

A risky ball returns to your side of the court and your heart stops at the difficulty of receiving it, but Jimin slides across the court in time and manages to save it, hollering loudly, “Chance ball!”

He digs it towards where Jungkook is poised, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and everyone drops into their ready positions, all eyes on the ball and set to put an end to the intense rally.

It’s only a matter of milliseconds before the ball falls into the cupped hands of the golden setter who then pushes it back up in the air, quick and effortless, to an altitude that complements the height of Hoseok’s jump. Without even the slightest of delays, the captain is up on his feet and stretches his hand to slam the ball down ruthlessly.

His smack sends it rocketing towards the other side of the court and his opponents scramble to receive it. It brushes against their libero’s forearm, but it’s almost impossible to save it from the speed and force it’s flying at, and meets the floor with a satisfying thwack of finality. Everyone freezes all at once with hitched breathes, eyes glued to how the ball dribbles obstinately in a slow motion, before rolling away from the perimeter of the court.

The last whistle breaks the static silence to announce the finality. Everyone turns to the score chart – 28 to 26.

There and then, the gym erupts into a positive torrent of roars and it takes a few prolonged seconds before reality hits Jungkook right in the face.

SNU won the championships.

They won the season!

Consciousness comes streaming back to the players after awhile. Yoongi is the first to scream, unexpectedly, with a loud fuck yeah and this snaps everyone out of their trance. Jimin’s reaction comes next, falling to his knees to do his signature slide, both fists pumped in the air as he snarls, “We fucking won!”

The players then tackle one another into a tight group hug, all smiling triumphantly and throwing their fists up in excitement. The sound of cheering from the crowd sends a tingle up their spines and it feels so fucking good.

Coach Kim is already on his feet, running towards them with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on him and you’re about to follow suit, until you see Jungkook break away from the huddle and barrel towards you at a speed too fast for your comprehension.

Smiling at how his face is lit up like the stars in his eyes, you throw your arms wide open and he dives into your embrace, hot tears brimming at the edges of both your eyes. He engulfs you into the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone and you wrap your arms around his waist, heart swelling with pride.

He feels like the dew on a perfectly bloomed rose in your comforting arms as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, relishing the warmth of your lithe body against his.

“Kook! You did it, oh my god!” You scream in joy, but your repeated words of congratulations get muffled by his broad chest.

He leans back to take a look, a really good look of your beaming face that screams nothing but pride and love, before scooping you up in a graceful sweep and twirling you around, simply because words cannot describe how happy he feels.

A soft, feather-light peck is then pressed on your ear and a blush makes camp on your cheeks. His warmth leaves your skin after a fleeting second, the cool air of the sports hall rushing back to stroke the flaming blush on your cheeks.

Still riding the high from their win, he then leans in to kiss the beam from your lips and the open display of affection makes your heart burst in your chest. Behind you two, the entire volleyball is wolf-whistling and applauding raucously. Jungkook scrunches his nose in embarrassment at how all his teammates and Coach are gawking at the two of you, but really, he cannot find any damns to give.

Red-faced and bright-eyed, the champions of the season make their way out of the court with a steady, triumphant gait, their bodies pumped with a brew of adrenaline and slight exhaustion. Lagging at the back of the team is Jungkook and you in your own little bubble. His fingers are interlaced firmly with yours and he registers that his heart will forever and always be set on you.

In his eyes, you see stars. You see yourself. You see the two of you.

You see love.

For the nth time that day, Jungkook leans in to meet your lips and he knows very well that this is the sweetest victory he will ever taste in his life.

Note | If you’re reading this, hi there love! ♡ Thank you so much for reading my first piece on this site. If you liked it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu with feedback or talk to me here – it’ll really make my day ♡ This was beta-ed by Ali @gukseuphoria and J @glitterjjk – thank you for being my first beta readers! There’ll be more stories coming your way, check out my WIPs for more! 💫💛✨

(A special shoutout to Ayv @piedpipers for being my first friend here and for always believing in me and hyping me up 👭🌞🌸💖)

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coolpolarbear123 · 5 years

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Band Camp Day 6

If you thought our band director couldn’t make things worse, you’re wrong

August 24th, 2019

Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7

I’m tired in many senses of the word:

First some stuff I forgot from yesterday:

Two nights ago the band was super slap happy and the BD was mad about it but maybe if we weren’t outside for a million hours and had actual indoor rehearsal--

The gang and I are showing up later and later to rehearsal and I’m surprised we haven’t been actually late yet

Okay now for today:

Morning rehearsal we just did a ton of halftime. This time the BD was able to fix our mistakes because he had the music, which Highkey confirmed that last night was a waste of time

We had to relearn a lot

Why are we even doing halftime when we barely know pregame

I learned some clarinet tea: someone went to join colour guard at the beginning of the year, got cut, rejoined clarinets, and they’re slightly annoyed

We got to march to the football practice field to “teach” the footballers how to sing the fight song

Basically we marched there in a parade formation (cool, good practice) and played the fight song for them. We didn’t get to teach them at all technically

When we got there, the football coach was hyping up the team, and we couldn’t respond with hype because we were at attention and that was awkward

Then we played the fight song

Then we got to relax and react a bit

Then we played Dance Again, the band’s national anthem

I was in the back, so I couldn’t see it, but apparently there was just a whole heckin mosh pit so that’s cool I guess

I think it’s kinda fun

So then we had to march back

And fun fact: piccs are in the back

So the genius idea was for the band to just turn around and have piccs in the front

Uh bad idea bad idea

I literally said “nonononononono” and I Know some of the piccs heard it

I was on the edge because I’m a Returner (but that doesn’t mean I’m good at marching, folks)

The first line had two people in it because they were the back

So I was guiding to like my line sort of and my made up place

And it’s not my first time being the corner of a parade, but it’s definitely the worst I’ve ever done

Marching back sucked because of me but whatever we made it in one piece

BD: “We’ll do some halftime then pregame” *we only do halftime*

Lunch!

Half the piccs got together to do a Pokemon Go raid before going back to band and it was pretty fantastic

So the plan was sectionals at 1:30 (after lunch) but it got changed to “Meet in band room first”

It was to put away chairs and stands

Then sectionals

But here’s the deal

Our section leader was really sick

So she wasn’t there until then

Me, texting her: So sectionals are happening, but only come if you think you can Two seconds later, the piccs: Can you text NSL Me: Just did

Us, getting into the sectionals room

Me: Listen up, piccs. Naptime until NSL gets here

We ended up napping for like twenty minutes

NSL got there, and one of the fish piccs was like “Do we have to get up” and NSL straight up said, “No keep napping” and let us go for another fifteen minutes

I was on instagram the entire time because I hate sleeping and naps

But then I was accused of sleeping and I’m still lowkey mad about it

Even though plenty of people stood up for me asdfghjkl

Then we started sectionals

I definitely had a piece of white chalk because I was gonna draw on the chalkboard (I didn’t so I didn’t wake people up)

The chalk was at the board, but I accidentally carried it back to my seat on accident

So I started drawing on myself

(I’m not white)

And I sit in the back so eventually the piccs turned around and were like “[cpb] wtf” “I’m trying to blend in”

Which has the same vibes as when I stole Roommate’s sunglasses (she was up front but her stuff was still in the back) and then was messing around on my phone and it must have been a Look because when the piccs saw they all were like “??????”

NDL noticed almost immediately and gave me a Look

that was like the second day of band camp whoops back to today

Finished sectionals, immediately back to the field

Many pregame

Finally

There was a car parked on where we’re supposed to enter the field so that created Issues

The owner of the car is this one guy who’s,,,, in band? Not in band?? none of us understand

He’s this older dude who fills in spots, but he has a nametag like the rest of us and everything, so

I dunno but he didn’t move it so we were Messy getting on the field

Our drum major brought her dog and her name is Coco and I love her

Technically this was the end of the day (shortened day--ended at 5:30)

We did noncompliance dances, which was some song about cows

One of the returning piccs lives on a dairy farm, and she was very into the song--it was hilarious

yes a member of GB

We didn’t sing, though--not yet

So then our band pres got in front of the band for announcements, and she was like, “Today’s activity is a hike up sugarloaf mountain! We meet here to figure out rides!”

but then here’s where stuff got even messier:

During the week of band camp, we’re supposed to have an elimination block

This is where we get in a block formation and follow commands blindly. Mess up and you’re out. Last one wins

We do it as a band, then just the returners

This is supposed to leave the freshmen paranoid. “Oh no they’re gonna make the freshmen do it” sorta thing

And then you go back to rehearsing as full band without saying anything, effectively confusing the freshmen

We didn’t do this

So as band pres was giving announcements, she said, “We’re gonna march pregame a bit and do an elimination block” so uh that’s spoiled thanks

I sorta get that we have to introduce the concept of it, but we should have done that when we met up after dinner

That entire thing is supposed to be a secret to the freshmen

Especially because of how BD reacted

He was like “Tell them about the rewards!”

And that’s an even bigger secret

So then everyone started whispering “freshman of the year” so surprise: spoiled

So then we completely revealed that, and I had to raise my hand because I was FOTY, and the other two also had to raise their hands but aaaaa

The piccs cheered for me though haha it was sweet

Thankfully, with all of us so tense you could feel it in the air, crash and burn wasn’t spoiled

The fact that we do stuff before sugarloaf was though and it makes me angry

dinner

then the antics

We did a whole band elimination block

I committed suicide--I wasn’t about to do that whole thing

A senior baritone won that

Then it was time for the block that mattered: the freshmen only

Basically the piccs dropped like flies except for maybe two, but they did well

Colour guard won, which nice since they’ve never done that

I should know, I currently have the list

Breaking the streak of only trumpets and drumline getting it one section at a time

Though piccs are slightly annoyed because their DI was a picc and knows the secrets

Then time for crash and burn

What’s supposed to happen is that we set up for pregame, and then they say “returners step out” which effectively freaks out the freshmen

But this time they straight up said “freshmen set up pregame” which ruins that

Then they got to the final block and were being yelled at to stay in set

Then the SL for the percussion gave us their air horn and we went wild

Basically the goal is to get them to break attention

We did a ton of vine references and broke quite a few of our piccs

One of them though was unbreakable so kudos to her, especially since she’s been sick all week and couldn’t do most rehearsals

Picc section has been dying in more than one way

She picks up on stuff so quickly though she’s amazing

Then we went up the hiking trail, hung out at the top, did the senior speeches, got emotional, took some awesome section pictures, amazing GB album covers (that’s what we call our squad pics)

squad piccs

After the senior speeches, we do the cult stuff. Singing the alma mater and fight song. However, before this, we’re supposed to take a pledge--or the freshmen are, at least

However our band pres forgot to get a copy of the pledge, so she had to call the band pres from last year (who graduated) and it was pretty funny

We did the cult stuff first to give him time to send it over

After that NSL called us over to give us a speech and talk about how proud she is of us and dang I love her

I miss mom and dad too, though

The freshmen: Why do you call yourselves gingerbread We made gingerbread houses together,,,, it’s not that interesting of a story

We hiked down

I very quickly figured out that my dinner of Lots of Bread wasn’t quite enough

My friends fixed that real quick

We also played pokemon go this entire time

And uh yeah that’s pretty much the day. I’ve been typing this on and off for two hours so I’m gonna go sleep

But also, another thing from yesterday:

At lunch I misheard someone say something and heard the word “wet” instead. But my dumb brain also took that as slang for “rad” so guess what the picc section says now

Yeah it’s pretty wet

Did I explain that yesterday? I dunno but I wanted to make sure you guys knew because it’s a Thing along with the handshake and I’m excited

Have I talked about the alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic song? I’ll try to mention it tomorrow if not

Have I mentioned how much we talk about vines because that’s still happening it’s honestly fantastic

A new vine reference every five seconds really

Tomorrow is a short day. Expect a shorter post.

#This picc section rocks honestly #band camp #2k19 BC Adventures #marching band #band #rant #cpb speaks #CBC

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uniquecreations · 6 years

Text

“Workplace Lover” Pt. 1

I was working for this inventory company for a few months when I was promoted to inventory manager. I was assigned to certain stores and pretty much had my team together when they decided to hire a bunch of people. The downside to having new people on my team was the pace slowed down due to me training them. No matter in what company you may work for when you get promoted there are going to be haters and people just downright salty because they didn’t get the position. Either way, I was happy but my love life sucked monkey balls, I couldn’t find a man to save my life. I take part to blame in that because of the insecurities that I dealt with at the time.

I got up for work this particular morning feeling awful, I went out the night before, got in at around 2:30 am and had to get up at 6 am for work. (Wasn’t one of my best choices.) When I made it to the pick-up spot my team was looking defeated as well, so I knew this was going to be a long day. I went and got all the equipment together and loaded it into one of the vans to leave. The new people showed up shortly afterward and we were ready to hit the road. I had this one friend Ron (straight guy) that I always shot the shit with every day. He would always seem to make the day easy for me by doing stupid shit that just hyped up all of us.

We made to the job site and began working, I had about 5 out of the 8 new people that no matter what I did, they just couldn’t seem to catch on to add and subtract. In the ones that I was going to definitely keep, there was this one guy named Alton, he was brown skin, had dreads, a deep voice, and a gorgeous smile. He was the most impressive, not just because he was sexy but because he actually took direction well. Once I showed him what to do, it was only a few times he came to me for something after that.

On our lunch break, I was eating at a nearby food joint with my homie Ron when Alton and a few other people walked in. I was so engulfed in Alton’s looks and the way he walked that I was totally ignoring Ron.

“Nigga, did you hear me?” He said throwing a fry at me.

“No, my bad what did you say?” I said embarrassed.

“I said that since we off tomorrow we should go to the Daquiri Café and get fucked up.”

“I don’t know about that, I had enough to drink last night to last me the rest of the year.” I said laughing.

“Punk ass, come on man join ya boy and live a little.” He said pleading, and after a lil back and forth I finally agreed. He was right tho, he would ask me to go out with him and his girl all the time, but I always found an excuse not to go.

“Aye, can I join yall?” Alton said approaching us with his food on his tray.

“Sure,” I said looking at the food on his tray. “You sure you can eat all that before it’s time to go back?”

“Probably but if I can’t then I will just pack this shit up and take it home.” He said after sitting down, we all shared a laugh together and spent the rest of our break getting to know our new team member.

We finally got thru the day, to say I was beyond tired was an understatement. I already sent a van full of people home and the only people left was the audit team. We made sure all the counts were accounted for as well as correct any mistakes that were made. This process could take anywhere from 30 mins to 4 hours depending on the corrections that needed to be made. Ron and Alton stayed back to help with this process and that made it easier for me because they kept me laughing.

“So, Alton since you apart of our team now, and since we all have the same schedule…... I was thinking that you should join Jaye and me at the Daquiri Café tonight for some drinks and bitches.” Ron said.

“I don’t know about the bitches’ part because as you and I both know yo girl will kick both of us in the dick if she finds out.” I said laughing.

“I’m game, I wasn’t doing shit tonight anyway.” Alton said. I wasn’t too sure about this because even though Ron knew I was gay, I didn’t like to hang around new people who didn’t know about my lifestyle. That could turn out really bad or just make it awkward while working.

“Cool, they have two we can choose from but since Jaye is technically our boss I vote he choose which one we go to,” Ron said smirking.

“I can’t fucking stand you and I’m not your boss, I’m only your supervisor while we work in the stores, I can’t fire or hire nobody just write you up and make a recommendation for your termination that’s it.” I said laughing.

“Stop lying nigga, I looked at your computer earlier and I saw that you got rid of some of the people that came today.”

“Shut up, that’s private information and while in training and since I’m still the lead trainer I do get to say who stays and who goes but I had to get rid of them because they just…… I don’t know maybe someone else can help them, but I can’t anymore.”

“So, was I on that list of people? I mean just keep it real.” Alton said with a nervous look on his face and I smirked.

“No, you weren’t if that was the case you wouldn’t be here right now…… enough of all this bullshit talk I need yall to go look for these sections that haven’t come in yet.” I said hanging them the list of things I needed to be checked.

After making it home I was beyond tired, all I wanted to do was lay down in my bed and sleep until the following week. That was short lived because just when the sleep was getting good my phone started ringing. I grabbed it to see it was my boos calling.

“Hey, I need some information about the people you switched and the ones you wanna keep.” She said after I picked up the phone.

“The ones I wanna keep had absolutely no problem catching on to the work but the other five were just horrible at taking direction. I didn’t suggest that they should be fired I just wanted them to go to Bobbi or Angie team because they work in smaller stores and they can focus more on them than I could.”

“Ok, we can do that but just for future references…... don’t involve me in your crap, you have every right to assign whomever you want to any team if you feel like they would be an asset to that team. Oh, and you did an amazing job today, I got nothing but good reports from the district manager.”

“Tell me something new but I will talk to you later I have some things to take care of.”

“Ok see you on Monday.” She said hanging up the phone. I looked at the time and realized that it was almost time to go meet up with Ron and Alton down the street at the Daquiri Café. I went took a shower and pulled out some clothes, no sooner than I got dressed Ron called my phone.

“Damn can I put some draws on before you get to rushing me out the house?” I said laughing.

“Nigga you should have been had yo shit on……. I’m outside so bring yo ass and open the door.” He said hanging up, I threw on some socks and went to open the door before I had to kick his ass. “You never on time for nothing nigga, you were late for work this morning, and now you just now getting dressed.”

“If you going to be bitching all night then you can beat ya feet motherfucker.” I said walking back to my room, while walking I got hit in the back with a pillow off the couch. “You better stop before I whoop yo ass and put my shit back in the right spot too.”

I walked into my room tempted to just say fuck it and call it a night, but I made a promise and I was going to keep it. I walked out the room to find that this nigga took all my pillows off my couch and tossed them on the floor. This nigga always doing stupid shit when he come over here, like the last time he came over here he put dish soap in my fish tank which killed all my damn fish. He did buy me some more but it’s stupid shit like that that works my nerves with him. I didn’t say nothing to him, I just walked into the kitchen and filled up a pot with hot water and walked back into the living room.

“Yo you better not throw that shit on me.” He said holding up one of the pillows.

“You got 30 seconds to fix my couch you jackass.” I said still holding the pot, he quickly put all the pillows back on my couch and I started laughing.

“You never play fair tho Jaye, why would you wanna throw hot ass water on me before we go out that shit foul man.” He said laughing.

“Because you always doing stupid shit, that’s why I’ma stop you from coming over here.” I said walking to the door.

“Whatever let’s go that nigga probably already waiting on us.”

“Ok but you driving because I’m still tired.”

We made our way to the Daquiri Café in no time at all because as I said earlier it was literally down the street from my house. When we walked in I spotted Alton sitting at the bar, I thought he was sexy earlier but now that I see him in regular clothes…… this nigga is drop dead gorgeous. I had no idea how I was going to get thru this evening without staring at him the whole night. We walked up to the bar where he was sitting and sat down, Alton turned his head and looked in our direction.

“About time yall showed up, I thought yall flaked out on me.” He said laughing.

“No, but there is something you should know about our boss here……. His ass always late to everything. I got over to his house and his ass wasn’t even dressed yet.” Ron said laughing.

“Well unlike you two bastards I had more work to do when I got home and plus I was still tired from last night. Yall lucky I’m even here right now.” I said flagging down the bartender. We all placed our order and sat there just talking like we had been friends for ever.

“So how long you been doing Inventory?” Alton asked me.

“For about a year now, it wasn’t my first choice but when I was offered the job, they gave me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.” I said sipping from my cup. “Overall, it’s been good, but I don’t think I wanna make a career out of it like Doris and Linda, but it pays the bills and leave me with extra in my pocket.”

“Cool, this is new to me I’m used to working fast food or doing lil odd jobs from temp services.”

“You have great work ethics, unlike some people I know.” I said looking at Ron.

“Aye fuck you nigga I’m the best person you have on your team so miss me with the bullshit or I’ma have to beat yo ass.”

“The only thing you can beat is yo meat nigga, don’t start your bullshit.” I said and we all bust out laughing.

“How long yall been cool? It seems like yall brothers or something.” Alton asked and the way he said ‘something’ didn’t sit right with me but I wasn’t going to think on it too much.

“Before my promotion we worked a few jobs together, he has been a thorn in my side ever since.”

“Yea right nigga, but Jaye is a down right cool as dude, he will do whatever he can to help anyone just as long as they trying to do shit for themselves.”

“That’s what’s up, but let’s go get a game of pool in and get this shit crunk.”

We played pool, got some food, had more drinks than I wanted to have, and had a damn good time just shooting the shit. The night was going good until Ron got a call from his girl and what ever they talked about had him in a sour mood for a bit.

“What’s going on Ron?” I asked him.

“She pissed off at me because in her words she never gets to see me until I’m horny or whenever I make time but that’s a lie because I was with her before I came to get you and she knew that we were hanging tonight.”

“Ok well let’s cut this night short and you go fix things with your girl because I don’t have time for her kicking both our ass.”

“Man fuck that, she will be just fine, I’m not about to keep catering to her bullshit every time she gets in one her moods.” He said ordering another round of drinks.

“You not gone learn until that girl murder yo ass but its your shot.” I said picking up my pool cue.

The night went on and we cut the drinks off because Alton looked drunk as hell and Ron was getting there. I had an extra room at my house, but I wasn’t to sure about letting either one of them sleep over. Ron wasn’t going to stay any way if push came to shove, he was going to call his girl to come get him and I take his car home, but Alton I knew nothing about so that was a definite no on his part.

“If this bitch sends me one more text, I’ma go over there and throw her phone in the middle of the street.” Ron said showing me all the text messages between him and her. I scrolled up reading the messages, but I went to far up and saw some pictures they sent each other. Let’s just say I see why she so paranoid because Ron had some serious meat down there.

“Umm…... just drop me off at the house and you go be with your girl bruh.” I said reluctantly giving him his phone back.

“I’m not ready to go and if you don’t wanna leave right now I can bring you home and let this nigga go get his shit together.” Alton said catching me off guard.

“Jaye don’t like people knowing where he stays so we can just do this some other time.” Ron said drinking the last of his drink.

“Nah it’s cool bruh, you go take care of that and call me later.” I said dapping him up.

Ron left us at the Café while he went to go make sure his girl was good, no matter what I did I couldn’t shake the image of his dick out my head. It was the prettiest dick I had seen in a very long time, I know I shouldn’t have kept thinking about it, but I couldn’t help it.

“You ready to go.” Alton said bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Umm yea…... but can you drive because I don’t wanna spend the rest of my night laid up in a hospital room.” I said laughing.

“Yea I got you, I aint that messed up.” He said laughing.

We left out and made it to my house in one piece, I thought about it and there was no way I was going to let this dude drive home drunk. I told him that he could crash on the couch and leave in the morning when he woke up. I went into my room to get him an extra cover and some shorts to sleep in, when I went back into the living room this nigga had kicked off his shoes and was laying on the couch watching tv.

“I got you a cover and some shorts to sleep in, there is food and drinks in the fridge as well, just don’t touch my cokes.” I said placing the stuff on the couch.

“Or you can go get comfortable as well and pour us some more drinks, I know you got liquor in here.” He said smirking, against my better judgement I went and threw on some night clothes and walked back into the living room. He had changed into the shorts I gave him, but he didn’t have a shirt on, his body was on point and I was stuck in one spot staring at him. “What you looking at nigga?” he said laughing, I hung my down in embarrassment and walked into the kitchen. I poured us some drinks and walked in the living room.

“Umm you need a shirt to put on?” I asked after handing him his drink.

“Nah, I don’t like sleeping in shirts I feel like I’m being suffocated.” He said laughing.

We started drinking and watching tv for a while, I looked at the time and it was now 3 in the morning. I stood up and staggered a lil bit from the drinks I consumed. I shook off the feelings, looked at his body one last time and started to walk to my room before he stopped me.

“If you wanna look you don’t have sneak just look.” He said smiling. I was taken back by his comment, it caught me off guard to the point where I ran right into the wall.

“You aint all that nigga but goodnight I’m going to bed.”

“I guess weakling.” He said laughing.

“Unlike you, I didn’t get much rest last night or when I got off so excuse me if I’m tired, now go to bed before I punch you in the face.” I said laughing.

“Don’t get fucked up, but I hear ya take yo tired ass to bed.” I didn’t bother saying nothing back I just went to my room and laid across my bed.

The thoughts of Ron’s dick flashed back to my mind as well as the comment that Alton made. Maybe I was drunk and overthinking things, but it sounded like he was flirting with me. the more I thought about it the more I had to find out what he meant by that comment. I got up and walked back into the living room where he was still finishing off the last of his drink.

“What did you mean by the comment you made a few minutes ago?” I asked him standing in the door way.

“Man, what yo drunk ass talking about?” He said laughing.

“About me staring at your body.”

“Oh, I meant that I noticed you staring at me a few times but when you saw me you tried to act like you wasn’t, so I said that if you wanted to look at me then just do it.” He said still laughing.

“Whatever, I look at what I want and who I want so what’s it to you?”

“It’s nothing to me, but I thought you was going to bed?”

“I am why you wanna join me?” I said and almost slapped the hell out myself for saying that shit.

“You probably would like that wouldn’t you?” He said laughing.

“Whatever, goodnight Alton.” I said walking back to my room.

I turned on my tv and laid under the covers, I couldn’t believe that I actually said that stupid shit to this dude. He didn’t go off on me but still I never said nothing like that to a straight guy before so that alone made me feel dumb as hell. I closed my eyes and began to fall asleep, a few seconds afterwards I heard my door open. When I opened my eyes, Alton was walking towards me, he didn’t say anything, he just walked to my bed and climbed in. before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he pressed his lips to mine and all rationality went out the window. Was this really happening? What am I thinking right now? How would this affect us at work? All these things went thru my mind, but my body had another mind of it’s on.

#bxb #lgbt #unique creations #workplace lover #part 1 #short story #gay #nonfiction

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artandteaandstuff-blog · 7 years

Text

Princes and Princesses - Part 8

Summary: Sequel to Kings and Queens. | Actor AU | Emma is finally getting used to life in the spotlight, thanks to hit TV show Kings and Queens. She has many people to help her along the way; her son, her friends and her boyfriend, Killian Jones. But changes are going to have to be made on Kings and Queens, and the world she’s getting used to is about to turn upside down, leaving her questioning if she ever really understood it at all.

Read it on FF.NET

Read Kings and Queens.

Tagging some peoples right here:

@swanandapirate @kmomof4 @katie-dub@ofshipsandswans@dreadpirateemma @weplaydumbb@alys07@broadwaysprincess@storybrookeswans @teamhook@revolutional-procrastinator@snarkycaptainswan4 @galadriel26

Let me know if you want to be tagged! Or let me know if you would like to be un-tagged.

Chapter 8

Emma tries to keep it as professional as possible with Killian. After their awkward baby conversation — the only thing Emma can really call it — she’s unable to look at him properly. Not because she’s angry at him in any way, but because she’s still reeling from the embarrassment. Even after Regina’s odd little warnings, she’d never sat down and actually thought about what would happen if she ended up pregnant, or how Killian would react. Or how she would react.

But that’s something she should have factored in from the start.

Killian, out of sheer humiliation it seems, is ignoring her. Well, not exactly ignoring her. They still do their scenes. Unlike the last time they went through a rough patch, their acting is up to scratch. Granted, they weren’t even together at that point, and there was lots of yearning involved. But as for relationship-y stuff, it might as well be non-existent. Killian no longer calls her, or invites her around. He no longer tries to kiss her. He doesn’t even hold her hand.

His lack of warmth sends a spark of annoyance through her. Why can’t he just be a man about it?

Then again, she’s not exactly manning up either. She knows she’ll probably have to swallow her pride and talk to him. But if she thought that she would lose him, if she believed this little hiccup to be serious, she would have spoken to him by now. She tells herself she’s just biding her time, but she’s not even sure that’s the case.

That’s why she sits in the cafeteria, her chin resting in her hand, miserable and alone when August finds her. He’s dressed in his normal clothes; blue jeans, a simple shirt and a leather jacket. She’s itching to know what costume he’s going to wear for the show. That’s one of the things she loves about Kings and Queens — the costumes.

He spots her at the same time she spots him, and his whole face lights up. He points to the line and then to the sandwich in his hand and she gets the message. A few minutes later, the chair scrapes next to her and August falls down into his seat, dropping a sandwich, a water and a chocolate bar on the table. He pushes the chocolate bar over to her.

“For you,” he says.

She looks at him, then at the chocolate, and then back up at him again. “Okay?”

“A little birdie told me cookies and cream is your favourite.”

She raises her eyebrows. “And who might that little birdie be?”

“Elsa. I bribed her to get information about you.”

“Stalker much?”

He laughs. “Believe it or not, you are a hard woman to get to know, Emma Swan. And your friends are loyal. I had to promise her a year’s supply of doughnuts before I could get her to talk, and even then she didn’t. I had to make other promises on top of that.”

“Which were?”

“A year’s supply of coffee too.”

Emma smiles. “Sounds like Elsa.”

“She also had to make sure my intentions were honourable. According to her, she can’t give your secrets to just anyone.”

Emma felt a small flame of pride in her chest at his words. It had taken her a while to find a friend as loyal as Elsa. Except maybe Mary Margaret, but she was more like family.

Emma watches as he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, revealing his short-sleeved shirt from underneath. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, swiping his water off the table.

“So why,” she begins, sliding the chocolate bar closer towards her, “are you so desperate for my secrets?”

“Believe it or not, I want to be your friend.”

“Why?”

“Because... “ He pauses. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time with each other.” He unscrews the cap and brings the water bottle to his lips. “And I don’t have that many friends. I could do with a few more.” He swigs from the bottle.

She narrows her eyes, though she feels a flicker of kinship within her. He sounds like someone she used to know — a cold, closed-off version of herself before she found friends. Before she found Killian.

“What kind of guy doesn’t have friends?” she asks.

“The kind of guy who never stays in one place.” When she tilts her head in question, he chuckles. “Not a stalker, not a loner, but a traveller.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “Traveller, huh?” She hadn’t expected that.

“Indeed. To be honest, acting hadn’t even crossed my mind up until a few years ago. I hadn’t wanted to settle down. I didn’t want the day job. I wanted to see the world— all of it, in all its glory. The good, the bad and the beautiful.”

“Then what happened?” She doesn’t know why she’s so captivated by his words. Usually when someone starts talking, she cuts herself off. She doesn’t want to know more about them; she doesn’t want to be friends. But August, and the way he talks, softly, draws her in.

“I got tired of travelling. I dabbled in writing for a bit and don’t get me wrong, I love writing, but if I finally wanted to settle down, it didn’t pay the bills. So I went for acting.”

“You wanted to pay the bills, so you went for a job that means you’ll never have a sure income.” She laughs. “That’s a pretty big risk.”

“What can I say? I’m a risk taker.” His smile is hidden only when he takes another sip of his water. “I thought I’d try it. I’d give myself four years, and if it didn’t pay, I’d give up.”

“Wow, you got lucky quick.”

“It’s not what you know. It’s who you know.”

“You knew someone in the business?”

He nods. “I guess I’ve always been lucky.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve gotta say, I miss travelling. I haven’t been away for a few years now and I miss it. I miss the food, the culture, the women—”

She smirks. “You’re a ladies’ man? Figures.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Not unlike your boyfriend, I take it.” Upon seeing her expression, he’s quick to fix it. “I don’t mean any offence, Emma. He cares about you, anyone can see that. It was just a joke, that’s all.”

“You two would get on,” she says.

“I’ve not spoken to him much, but I plan to. Maybe I’ll buy him chocolate too.”

She throws back her head and laughs, surprised by herself. It’s just the idea of August buying chocolate for Killian.

“I mean—” he says, chuckling himself. “Gods need offerings, don’t they?”

She continues to laugh. ‘What, you think he’s some kind of God?”

“Don’t you?”

She laughs again, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, in terms of acting, the guy is amazing. I can’t believe he hasn’t won an Oscar yet.”

“I guess he has to do some films for that.”

“Maybe he’ll have some free time soon.” His eyes sparkle. “You never know.”

“You never know.”

“Speaking of acting…” His voice lowers and he looks away, almost embarrassed. He runs his hand along his jaw, against his stubble in a very Killian-like way. “I wonder when we’re gonna do some scenes.”

“You haven’t received the schedule?”

“I have but I’ve only looked at today.” He makes a ‘whoops’ face.

“We’re scheduled for a scene this week, in the studio. Have you even read the scripts?”

“Of course I have.” He laughs. “We meet in the Throne Room, yeah?”

She nods. “Edmund is going to be received by Alexander, right?”

“Right!” His eyes fly to the clock and he bites his lip, making an ‘oops’ face. “Looks like I’ve gotta go. I have make-up in ten.”

“You don’t wanna be late. Let me tell you, you don’t wanna get on Ariel’s bad side.”

“Noted.” He rises, his chair scraping against the floor again. It’s so unpleasant, Emma almost covers her ears. August offers her a grimace at the noise, before his face relaxes into that easy grin she’s becoming accustomed to. “Anyway, Emma. I’ll see you soon. I can’t wait for our scenes.”

“I’ll see you soon.” She’s still smiling as she watches him go.

Then she remembers Killian, and their non-argument, and her stomach sinks.

Killian still doesn’t speak to Emma non-professionally the rest of the week. He keeps his voice polite, his tone consistent. The tension is particularly thick in the few hours before that scene with August.

August is yet to show up, so the only other actor she knows is Killian. He sits on his throne, crown on his head, script on his lap. He must be going over his lines— his lips moving silently, his eyes flickering as they follow the words. She almost doesn’t want to disturb him, he looks so peaceful and handsome. But she needs to say something to him.

“Killian, hey,” she says as she walks up the stairs.

She has to pick up her dress as she walks. He glances up as she approaches her, his eyes blinking at being disturbed, and he smiles. It’s a tired smile, but it’s a smile, and it’s genuine. She hasn’t seen one for a while.

She sits in the second throne next to him. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad, thank you. Just learning these lines. I’m not sure I’ve memorised them all.”

“You’ll do great.”

“I hope so.”

They descend into an uncomfortable silence and Killian goes back to his script. Emma noticed that his lips aren’t moving anymore, and his eyes aren’t flickering. He’s not reading— he’s just using it as an excuse so he doesn’t have to talk to her. The thought makes her feel a little cold. Out of all the people she knows, he’s the one person who shouldn’t be avoiding her, or ignoring her.

She’s not sure she can stand it any more.

“Killian,” she begins, softly.

“Yes?”

She swallows, thinking how to phrase her words. This is… difficult for her. She’s never been the one to do the talking, or to breach the uncomfortable subjects. It’s always been the other people in her life and in terms of their friendship, it was always him.

But they’re in a relationship now and people have to work for relationships, or they lose them. The thought of losing Killian is unthinkable.

“We should… talk.”

He looks up at her. He fixes her with an empty smile. It doesn’t quite reach his blue eyes. “About what, love?”

“About the misunderstanding.” It’s the only word she can think of to describe it as. About the baby? There was no baby.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I thought you were pregnant, but you were not. It was a shock, but it doesn’t matter now.” He flips a page of his script, repeating, “Nothing to talk about.”

She frowns. Okay, so she wasn’t pregnant, but it was a big thing. It’s enough to shake up any relationship.

“So why are you avoiding me?” she asks.

He keeps his eyes on the page as he says, “I’m not avoiding you, Swan.”

“Look, I know what avoiding people looks like. This… this is avoiding.” Don’t play me for an idiot, Killian, she wants to say, but she doesn’t. She bites her tongue. It’s best to keep it civil.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” Alright, evidence. She needs evidence. She lowers her voice. “We haven’t been on a date for a while. You haven’t been round my house, and I haven’t been round yours.” It’s true. Usually they were staying round each other’s houses non-stop.

She doesn’t expect him to look up at her, directly into her eyes, and offer one of those empty smiles again. “And whose fault, may I ask, is that?”

For once, she’s shocked into silence. She hadn’t expected that answer. She’d expected him to nod solemnly, to agree in that way he always does.

“I— Well— You haven’t texted me.” As soon as the words leave her lips, she realises how schoolgirl-ish they sound, and she cringes.

“No? Maybe I should have replied to the texts you sent me then,” he says, looking back down at his scripts. “Or answered the mountains of calls I’d missed, or perhaps answered the door when you knocked. Or maybe I should have returned all the affection you showed me?”

“Killian—” She feels her voice falter.

“What’s the matter, Swan?”

“I was giving you space.” Her voice is soft.

“Were you?”

Emma isn’t sure what to say. She sits back on the throne, hands in her lap, limp. She hadn’t expected this turn of events. Every time she has reached out to him before, he’s been quick to comply, quick to apologise. Maybe he doesn’t feel as I do, says a tiny voice in her head. Maybe he doesn’t love you?

She shakes the feeling away. She doesn’t need to feel insecure right now, thank you very much.

“You guys look like the king and queen!” a voice shouts from the edge of the set. Their eyes glance down to see August walking towards them, holding out his arms, a smile on his face. “True royalty.”

Emma gives him a small smile before she turns back to Killian. She keeps her voice low, as to not be overheard. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you. All I know is that things were great, and then they weren’t. We were good, really good, and I wanna get back to that. I—’ She sighs. “I care about you, Killian.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the script. “But I’m not gonna follow you around like some whiny teenager. So either you suck it up and talk to me about your problems, or you end it. Because I’m not gonna sit around, wondering whether we’re still together.”

And on that note, she rises, lifting her skirts with her. She makes her way down the stairs and plasters the biggest smile on her face as she meets August. Though when he studies her, his face falls, just a little.

“You alright?” he asks.

She keeps the smile on her face as she says, “Fine.”

She can tell he doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t say anything else. So she tries to keep her voice light as she says, “Nice costume.”

“Thank you.”

He twirls on the step and comes to a stop in front of her, bowing. She can see why he’s an actor.

He wears a lot of leather; leather tunic, leather pants, leather boots. He also wears a floor-sweeping cloak made of velvet. Emma rubs the material through her fingers. It’s nicer than hers, and a much better quality. The costume budget must have gone up this year. Like Killian’s character, August wears a variety of silver rings and jewels. A necklace hangs around his neck, sparkling in the light.

“I’ve gotta say, I love it,” August says. “It makes me feel like a whole other person.”

Emma folds her arms. “Not too shabby.”

He laughs. “Not too shabby at all.”

She’s about to make a comment about how ridiculous his leather boots look, when she catches a tall, thin, rake-like woman walk — no, strut — onto set. She wears a ridiculous fur coat over a tight dress. But that isn’t the most ridiculous thing about her. It’s her hair, which is half black and half white. She holds a cigarette in one hand, puffing out clouds of smoke.

“Who the hell is that?” Emma murmurs.

August turns, his face immediately dropping into a frown. “I have no idea.”

“No smoking in here,” Mulan, the coordinator, tells her. She bats the smoke away with her free hand, the other clasped around a folder.

“It’s prescription, darling,” the woman says.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

The woman ignores her, but struts over to Isaac, who has taken to hiding in the corners like some sort of vampire, and opens her arms for him. “Isaac! My love!”

“Cruella.” He steps out of the shadows, that smirk on his face. They meet in the middle of set and embrace, kissing each other soundly on the lips. Emma tries not to cringe. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“You know me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I had hoped that would be the case.”

During the course of their conversation, everyone had turned to see the Isaac and the woman — Cruella — embrace in the middle of the set. Though their eyes are are mainly on Cruella, and the hideous thing on her head.

“Do you think it’s a wig?” August murmurs from between his teeth. “Should we rip it off?”

Emma has to hide her snort in her sleeve.

When it becomes apparent that everyone is watching them, Isaac turns, hand on the small of Cruella's back. That rat-like smile still hasn’t left his face. If anything, it becomes wider with every second. “If I can have your attention,” he begins, even though the room is full of silence. “I’d like you all to meet Cruella, a very good friend of mine.”

“Hello, everyone,” Cruella says with a curtsey. It’s only then that Emma realises she has a ridiculous British accent. Like movie-ridiculous.

“She’s to be our new assistant director.”

There’s an outcry from the whole room. Murmurings of whats and whys and also whos. Why hadn’t they been told they were getting another director? Surely, Belle would have mentioned it. And why drop her in the middle of a scene? Surely, she should have come in when Isaac joined the crew.

“I wasn’t aware we were getting another director?” Killian says. Emma jumps— she hadn’t realised he was right behind her.

“Settle down,” Grumpy bellows. “Though some of us— I mean, some of the crew wanted to tell you about Cruella, others thought it should be a surprise. We didn’t mean to shock or startle any of you. But I’m sure Cruella will be an asset to the team.” He sounds like he’s reading from a script. All stunted.

“Thank you, darling. Thank you,” Cruella says. “I do look forward to… getting to know all of you.” Is it Emma’s imagination, or do her eyes land on Killian? “That’s all I’ll say for now. I won’t disrupt your work any more.”

“Thank you, Cruella,” Isaac says, and begins to clap. No-one joins in.

It takes a few moments for the chatter to build up again in the room and when it finally does, Emma can guess at what everyone is talking about. More than once, she’ll see an extra or a crew member’s eyes flash to Cruella, and she can see a question in their eyes that she longs to know herself. What is this woman doing here?

But before she can really reflect on it, Grumpy is calling for positions and they’re rolling the camera.

The scene is a short one. Killian is sat on the throne for most of it, and August is stood in front, his advisors at either side of him. Emma stands near the servants at the side of the thrones, but she can feel the camera on her face. She doesn’t have much of a speaking role in this— one line or two at the end when she finally comes face-to-face with August’s character, Edmund. Up until then, all her emotions must be shown on her face.

“Action,” Grumpy yells from his chair off set.

“Thank you, your grace, for allowing me into your home,” August says, with a slow bow of the head. “I will be forever in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it,” Killian says, with a wave of his hand. “My home is yours for now.”

“Thank you.” Another bow of the head.

“And what is mine is yours for now.”

“Your Grace is too kind.”

Killian sits up straight in his chair. Emma will never get over this— she’ll never get over seeing him in full costume, sitting on his throne. It makes her heart flutter.

“The feast will begin at 8 o’clock but first, you must rest. You will be shown to your bedchamber where you can bathe and change into fresh clothes. You must be tired after your journey.”

Emma zones in and out of the conversation, but keeps her hands clasped together and keeps her eyes fixed on the men in front of her. Her feet are already starting to ache from standing so long and she shifts them, trying to be as graceful as possible.

Thankfully, they only do the take another few times. They’re good at it, natural, and they work well together. She only has to endure the ache in her feet for a small while until Grumpy is calling cut and demanding they move onto the next part of the scene.

When their break comes, Emma’s feet are killing her. Without Killian to keep her company, Emma goes to watch a movie in her trailer on her own. It fills her with cold, but she meant what she said. She will not follow him around like a little, lost, lovesick puppy. If he refuses to talk to her then so be it. She’s said her piece.

The next scene they film, a feast, is in the dining room. Killian sits at the top end of the table and on his left, August, the esteemed guest. Emma catches Elsa’s eye from her table and they smile at each other.

Emma is in the midst of pouring wine into everyone’s goblets when the camera starts rolling. She makes her way slowly up to the end of the table, filling, filling, filling, until she reaches Killian and August. She begins with Killian’s glass, but he makes no gesture towards her, nothing to suggest their relationship. Then she moves onto August.

“Have I seen you before?” August asks her.

Emma frowns in surprise. “I doubt it, my lord.”

“But your face. It looks oddly familiar.”

Emma looks away, embarrassed. She doesn’t say anything else, but just pours the wine.

“What is your name?”

“Rose, my lord.”

“A beautiful name.”

Emma raises her eyes and meets Killian’s from across the table. He frowns, but the expression is entirely Killian. She has seen the very same one in his eyes many times before. Before anyone can say anything else, Emma turns to leave and Grumpy calls for a cut.

“Amazing!” comes an unrecognisable voice and everyone turns to see that new Cruella person standing, clapping her gloved hands together. “Amazing, darlings!” The clapping is loud and echoey. “Beautiful, darlings! Amazing chemistry. I could feel the heat coming off you!”

Isaac rises also. “I am inclined to agree. Do you think we should move onto part two?”

“You ought to get writing those scripts.”

Emma and August exchange looks and shrug. Emma doesn’t know what ‘part two’ is and she’s not sure she wants to find out.

They only have to do that scene a few more times, since it’s only a short scene. She’s glad she won’t have to film the rest of the feast; big scenes like this almost always give her a headache.

So she leaves set, changes her costume, and decides to go home.

Alone.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan

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