#he accepted impulsively but it was a good choice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taexual · 11 months ago

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sleepwalking ● 19 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST & FLUFF (i mean it, watch out), SLOW BURN

words: 14.5k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 19 ► so dig two graves, ‘cause when you die, i swear i’ll be leaving by your side

When the tour bus arrived in Glasgow, you realised that you had slept perhaps a quarter of an hour in total tonight. Discomfort and Regret had become unwelcome companions that kept you up.

Last night, you had planned to talk to Jungkook, but he flipped the script and did all the talking instead. And if you had to describe your choices from then on, you’d have to accept that, essentially, you had run away without saying anything.

You realised now, through tossing and turning in your bunk the whole bus journey, that this was your recurring pattern.

When you and Jungkook first broke up, you’d barricaded yourself in your apartment and only ventured outside when it was unavoidable, like to go to work. Or when your friends forced you out of bed. They tolerated your need for silence in moderation—a few days of self-imposed isolation were okay. But two consecutive weeks was a little excessive.

In Stockholm, the impulse to run away had gripped you right after your conversation on the bridge sank abruptly in the waters below. In Oslo, you had actually run away after you’d almost kissed. You could still feel the shivers on your skin from the cold night air on the rooftop terrace. And, of course, you’d also planned to avoid him when you arrived in Manchester.

It was a pattern that was doomed to end in failure every time, yet you stubbornly refused to give it up.

You wanted to escape the feelings that frightened you, but they only ran faster. They chased after you like daunting shadows. They caught up with you. They engulfed you.

This perpetual cycle wasn’t just futile, it was also unfair—to you and to Jungkook. And to Rated Riot, too.

It had gone on for too long.

You were determined to redeem that today.

While Jungkook and the boys were doing an interview on a local radio station after the soundcheck, you chose to stay at the venue to work. Initially, you only intended to answer internal company emails and update the label executives, but unsurprisingly, that morphed into more tasks that needed your immediate attention.

Seated at your laptop in the band’s dressing room, you spent a good couple of hours finalising Rated Riot’s schedule for the rest of the week, emailing back journalists and verifying their credentials before issuing backstage passes for upcoming interviews, and humming along to a tune playing in your headphones.

It was then—during the chorus of an old Bad Omens song that was loud and messy enough to keep your mind alert and focused—that Seokjin decided to tap you on the back.

You jumped up as high as it was humanly possible and pushed your laptop away as if to protect it from intruders—which was what your mind assumed Seokjin to be, apparently. He took a step back, shocked and very entertained by your violent startle.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, attempting to suppress a smile. “You’ve been—you’ve been working here by yourself for hours. I’m taking a coffee break. Want to join me?”

With one hand pressed to your chest, you slid your headphones off and checked the time on the corner of your laptop screen. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a quaint café a few blocks from Barrowland where Rated Riot would be playing later that evening. But despite the cosy setting, you chose to grab your coffee to-go. It was a warm, sunny day outside. Seokjin thought you could use some fresh air.

“So,” he said eagerly, as soon as the café bell tinkled, announcing your exit, “what’s on your mind?”

You met his question with surprise. “What do you mean?”

He maintained an air of nonchalance, sipping his Americano and observing casually, “your pupils are massive. You look like you’re planning a revolution. Or a massacre.”

You took a sip of your drink and regretted not stirring the caramel in better. You wondered what it would be by the end of tonight: revolution or massacre.

“I was—well, it’s nothing much,” you said. “I was just thinking that things might be different when we got home.”

“How so?”

The two of you crossed the street towards a small, vibrant green space—not quite a park—with a tree-lined pathway in the middle and an old blue police box nearby, reminiscent of Doctor Who.

“Well,” you said, “I hear Brazil is really nice that time of year.”

“You’re thinking of going on holiday?” Seokjin asked, surprised. He’s known you since you joined the company, even before you started to manage Rated Riot, and he was well aware of your lack of holidays. The HR department, however, remained blissfully ignorant about it.

You shrugged. “For starters.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll see.”

The ambiguity in your response wasn’t worrying in itself, but combined with your reluctance to meet his gaze and the intense concentration on your coffee—even though you winced every time you took a sip—it was certainly alarming.

“You’re not… going to quit, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard about Reconnaissance.”

Of course, he’d heard. At this point, enough people knew about it for the news to have a ripple effect and circulate backstage.

“No,” you said, trying to dispel the tension with an airy laugh. “Of course not.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’d find a replacement first.”

Seokjin’s casual stride came to an abrupt halt. A few steps ahead, you realised he’d stopped and turned around.

“No,” he said.

His firm declaration made you stutter. “Th-that—that wasn’t a question.”

“And that’s not an option,” he argued. “You can’t quit.”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving for sure. I’m just saying that if I did leave, you wouldn’t even notice the difference,” you said. “I’m a very good teacher.”

With that, you started to walk away, leaving him little choice but to catch up.

“And I love all of you guys,” you continued while Seokjin grunted next to you. “I wouldn’t leave you with someone I didn’t personally trust to take care of you and the band.”

He shook his head, his determination unwavering. If he had known about the band members’ conviction that no one would blame you if you left Rated Riot due to the alluring offer from Reconnaissance, Seokjin might have been tempted to express his disagreement with his fists.

Of course, people would blame you—Seokjin was the people in question.

You belonged here. You were an essential part of the team.

He was convinced of this, and he was going to be annoying about it.

“Okay, I appreciate that,” he said, his tone tinged with incredulity. “Except, what the fuck are you thinking? Of course, we’d notice the difference! You’re you. We love you.”

“That means a lot—”

“But not enough?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his anger. “No, it’s—”

“Alright, look.” He stopped walking again, the paper cup of coffee in his hand more of an accessory than a beverage. “Is this about Jungkook?”

An unexpected heat surged through you and a cascade of excuses immediately raced through your mind. You scanned the pathway, reading the names of the bands imprinted into the pavement with colourful stripes—artists who’d performed at Barrowland before, you assumed—so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

But this was Seokjin. If there was anyone who knew everything that was going on in the band, it was him. You didn’t want to give him pretend reasons.

“In part,” you admitted.

“Well, if that’s the case, then it’s an even more definite no,” he asserted, his resolve unyielding.

You sighed and attempted to smile, but there was a hint of awkwardness in your expression. “I’m not taking votes, Jin. I’ll talk to Jungkook about this, and—”

“You can talk to anyone you like. All the gods you can find, even,” he interrupted. “But you’re not leaving.”

“Jin—”

“Look, when you accepted this job, the fact that you and Jungkook used to know each other didn’t matter,” he stated, tactfully omitting the word ‘relationship’—a nuance you appreciated. “What difference does it make now?”

As you bit your lip and lowered your eyes, Seokjin sensed that there was a difference, after all. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t entirely up to speed on everything that was happening on the tour, after all.

“Okay, you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m not asking you to,” he said, his words gentle, but his tone strict. “What I’m saying is that nobody cares. You can date, you can break up, you can—I don’t know. You can pretty much do anything as long as you don’t kill each other. No one cares.”

“The label cares,” you blurted, the words unpolished and agitated. “I care.”

He waved his free hand dismissively. “The label cares about profit. We’re making a profit from you both. Maybe even more when you’re together because you’re both less annoying that way.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How are we annoying?”

“Are you kidding? All mopey and sulky?” He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. “You make me sick and miserable.”

You snickered softly at the dramatic display. “Fair. Sorry. But fact is, it’s still a good opportunity.”

“Well, sure,” he conceded. “But is that really the reason you want to leave? Or is it because you think that what you’re doing with Jungkook is wrong? You think others will disapprove or think less of you. You think this is highly unprofessional, and it would make more sense to work elsewhere.”

It felt oddly incongruous to hear him articulate—so easily, without a moment’s hesitation—everything that you had been thinking.

“Well, that’s a factor, too, of course…” you said, your voice faltering.

“I think that’s the main factor.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you mumbled, “I think you think too much.”

“I think you don’t think enough,” he countered. “You can’t leave, not even for Reconnaissance. You’re part of the team, our team. We all are.”

You looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly—waiting, clearly, for you to admit defeat.

While you didn’t technically need his consent to quit, the sheer determination in his stance made you feel as though his approval was, indeed, a prerequisite for anyone choosing to leave.

“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” you said.

“As you should!” he said—nearly bellowing in his frustration. “But you should feel guilty about mistakenly thinking that you should leave. Not about being in love with him.”

His words struck a deep chord and your heart began to rattle violently in your chest. “I’m—right. Yeah. I need to talk to him about—about everything.”

His tone softened at your reaction.

“I think you should sit down for ten minutes and gather your thoughts before you do that,” he advised. “You should sit and accept that we don’t care if you go out with Jungkook. Whatever you decide, we’re all cool with it. As long as you are, too.”

Afraid that your eyes would betray your thoughts, you shifted your gaze to the silver barks of the graceful birch trees around you. “Do you know about the bet?”

Seokjin took a slow sip of his coffee to allow more time between these overlapping conversations.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that... uh, have you two worked it out?”

“We’ve—I think we have. I think the bet wasn’t even the main issue, actually, it just—it sort of highlighted all our problems,” you admitted. “We—we’ll have to work through the rest.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. The sun rolled out from behind the buildings, casting a golden glow on the trees and the empty path ahead of you. He squinted and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “Well, then I can safely tell you that everyone backstage knows about it.”

The disappointment on your face was absolute. “Oh. That—that’s lovely.”

He smiled sympathetically as the two of you continued down the faintly coloured path. Despite the sunshine, the cool breeze toyed relentlessly with the edges of your jackets.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” he said. “It’s nothing more than a silly joke backstage. We’re not judging either of you.”

You did worry about it. “What… do you mean by ‘silly joke,’ exactly?”

The two of you arrived at a large sycamore tree with leaves that glimmered in emerald hues under the sun, and Seokjin stopped, grateful for the shade.

“One of the roadies started it,” he explained. “It was just a game. A bet, actually! Funny.” He chuckled at the irony, but stopped himself when he noticed your stoic expression. “Anyway. Someone suggested that Jungkook’s friends were trying to sabotage your relationship by making this bet with him. So, we bet on Jungkook fighting his friends for you. Which—that cost me money, actually. When he showed up at the airport in Cologne with a black eye, I lost fifty euros.”

It took you a minute to process this, and you felt so uncomfortable that your fists itched with an urge to fight someone, too.

“You—so, you bet that he wouldn’t fight his friends?” you clarified, almost hopeful.

“No. I bet that he would,” he said. “But I got too big-headed and bragged about how he wouldn’t miss a single punch. So, everyone claimed that I lost and took my money. Really, I thought he knew how to fight. And he was doing it for a noble cause.” A dramatic pause ensued, and then Seokjin smirked. “I mean you, by the way.”

“No, yeah, I got that,” you said bitterly. “But you didn’t even know the actual—everyone just assumed he had a black eye because of me?”

He pulled his lips together to stifle a chuckle as he moved his cup of coffee away.

“Can you blame us?” he asked with a leisurely shrug. “He’s in love with you, and his friends are complete idiots. And then he shows up with a black eye! The dots connected themselves. Although, personally, I thought Luna or Maggie could have socked him in the eye, too. You three are very protective of each other.”

You tilted your head, your posture a warning. “I see. So, we’re a telenovela to you. Did you bet that I would knock someone out if I found out what you were up to?”

“Not yet,” he said, clearly delighted by the prospect of this happening in the future.

“Did you get your money back at least?”

“Yeah. But then I lost it again.”

The leaves of the sycamore tree rustled impatiently as you groaned. “How?”

“Another bet,” he said. “Some people—including Jimin, by the way—thought that Jungkook’s friends would never come to another Rated Riot show. In the UK specifically. We were very specific about the details in this bet.”

“Right, of course.”

He smirked, unapologetic about the amusement he derived from this. There were all sorts of games happening backstage at any given point in the tour; nearly everything became a joke here. And Seokjin hoped to show you that yes, people did know about you and Jungkook. But unless they could find ways to make it funny, they didn’t care.

He could tell that the more he talked to you about this, the more you started to recognise the absurdity of it all, too.

“Right. Well, Jimin won that round. I actually—I thought Jungkook would change his mind and bring his friends back,” Seokjin confessed. “Serves me right. I should have trusted him more.”

You raised your cup in his direction.

“Yeah,” you said. “Serves you right for making bets about this. He blacklisted Sid.”

“He—oh!” Seokjin seemed very pleased to hear this. “Well, that was worth my money, then.”

“Hmm.”

He grinned, the mischief still lingering in his eyes.

“We have another bet going on,” he said.

“Anoth—well, of course.” Your teeth dug into the coffee lid as you tried to take a sip, but reconsidered. “So, what? Who’s getting a black eye this time?”

“It’s whether you’ll get back together.”

Your irritation wavered in surprise. A rustling stirred inside you as though you had swallowed the wind and carried it within.

“Well,” you said. “Where’d you place your bets?”

“Drink your coffee,” he said. You did. It had cooled and turned unpleasantly sweet as the caramel settled. “I haven’t bet on that yet. But if you told me if you’re considering going back to him, I could win my money back.”

You made sure to swallow before looking up.

“That’s not solely up to me, though,” you said, sensing an obvious defensive undertone in your own voice. You didn’t make much effort to conceal it; he would have read right through you anyway. “A relationship typically involves two people. I can’t force him to be in it.”

Seokjin offered a patient smile.

“Please,” he said. “Everyone knows he’d burn down half of Europe for you.”

You swallowed again.

It was just you. The only one still fighting it.

“Well, in any case—” Seokjin said, distracted, suddenly, by a particularly cheeky pigeon that kept flying up to your ankles, then to your knees. “That bird is going to steal your coffee.”

You glanced down, and the shift in your position frightened the pigeon into flying a few metres away. Seokjin nodded in approval.

“Anyway,” he said. “What I meant to say is that I don’t know how much my opinion is worth, but if the only reason you’re considering quitting is because of this, then that’s nothing. You sit down, you work through your problems, you get back together, and you’re good to go. Well, good to stay. It’s up to you. No one else cares.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Everyone’s talking. They’re making bets about us. We—we’re a joke backstage. And yet you think we should get back together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Give us something else to bet on.”

Exasperation flashed across your face. “I’m thinking I’d like to sic that pigeon on you a little bit.”

“Oh, but what would you do without me?” He was grinning in a manner so endearing and genuine that you felt your lips stretch into a defeated smile as well. “You know we’re family. That is what we do. And you said it yourself – everyone’s already talking. And no one’s truly bothered by it. You might as well do what you want.”

You took a big gulp of your coffee to finish it.

Some of the humour faded from his eyes while he watched you. He looked around—to make sure the pigeon hadn’t returned and to gather his thoughts.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said. “You know how they say ‘measure twice, cut once’? Why don’t you measure three times? Four, even. Five. Or, I don’t know, as many times as it takes until you realise that there’s no need to cut anything. Everything’s great as it is.”

Your face felt warm. “That’s very profound.”

“It is.” He nodded, his exaggerated confidence faltering a little when he saw the gratitude in your eyes and suddenly found himself timid. “I’ve also got a few carpentry jokes if you’re in the mood for those.”

Laughing finally, you shook your head. “Maybe later. But thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And notice how I’m not saying ‘anytime’? Because there can’t be another time that this happens. In fact, the next time I see you, it’ll be as if we never had this conversation.”

Still smiling despite his threatening tone, you put your palm to your forehead and extended your fingers in a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He nodded, content with your response.

“Now go back to that café and bring me a scone,” he ordered, his expression bright again. “I got distracted by your misery and forgot to buy one.”

You snorted and nodded—you did owe him a scone, at the very least. Seokjin stepped deeper into the shade by the tree and waited while you jogged back towards the café. He looked up to see your lighthearted expression reflected in the window across the street and felt himself exhale in relief.

He’d done his job—you knew everyone needed you here.

You returned to the venue with enough scones for the whole staff, and as you passed them out, almost everyone on the team regarded you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. It was a nice change from their earlier concerns about your health, but you still felt uncomfortable.

There was an obvious reason you enjoyed working backstage: here, you successfully evaded the spotlight. You did your work quietly and got to spend time with your friends.

But lately, you’d been feeling everyone’s eyes on you and, naturally, your instinctive reaction was to flee. Really, this had to be inherent; you wondered if your brother shared a similar flight-or-flight-never-fight response when confronted with an uncomfortable situation.

And still, you forced yourself to wait.

Following your conversation with Seokjin, you decided on the key points that you needed to discuss with Jungkook. And they were simple: share your thoughts with him and make a decision together.

You’ve never really tried this with him before; open communication was a recent development for the two of you. But you meant what you told Seokjin: a relationship involved two people. And regardless of what -ship you and Jungkook were currently in, your decisions still influenced his, and his influenced yours.

You had hoped to speak to him after he returned from his interview, but it was almost funny how time worked against you today.

After the band returned, you went to help Jungkook with his bandages, and the company executives decided to respond to your email with a phone call. And so, you were forced to stay on the phone with the label the whole time before Rated Riot went on stage.

That was okay. You figured you would talk to Jungkook later.

But later just wouldn’t come.

After the concert, you waited for the band to finish taking pictures with their fans before you took them to another interview with several more radio hosts. And when you returned to the bus, the curtains on Jungkook’s bunk were drawn. You didn’t want to wake him in case he was asleep.

The only time you finally had direct contact with Jungkook was on the plane to London. He surprised you by approaching you from behind and casually lifting your carry-on to the overhead compartment. Then, as though he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, he turned around to return to his seat.

“Wait,” you called out. “Can I—can we talk? Yoongi said he’d switch seats with me.”

Jungkook stopped, his stomach sinking. He was the undefeated champion of misinterpreting situations—he hadn’t forgotten how your conversation had ended last night, but he still thought this was about Sid.

Because while you were beating yourself up about your avoidant tendencies, Jungkook was grappling with a different problem.

Since this morning, he had been bombarded with incessant text messages from an unknown number that ranged from vaguely bothersome (“UR SO DUMB LMSAO”) to genuinely threatening (“DNOT THINK THS IS OVER YOU FUCKVING CUNT”). All texts contained a certain distinctiveness: full capitalisation, typos, and a disturbing scent of wounded ego.

It was Sid, Jungkook was absolutely sure of it.

He seemed to be in a white powder induced frenzy, which wasn’t particularly unusual—Jungkook didn’t think he could remember the last time Sid had been completely sober—but the frequency of the texts was a little unsettling. Jungkook thought the bet was over now, even if Sid wasn’t satisfied. But clearly, Sid was craving something more.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how you would know about this or why you would bring it up now, but he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again, and he thought this had to be the reason why.

“Sure,” he said, trying to mask his apprehension. He turned on airplane mode on his phone and looked up. “What’s, uh—what’s going on?”

You gestured at his seat. He sat down with bated breath—as if his life was about to change and he needed to brace for it—and waited for you to settle beside him.

“I wanted to, uh, explain myself,” you began as the plane filled. The rhythmic sound of people shuffling across the aisle was oddly soothing. Jungkook, however, appeared perplexed. “And to thank you, actually. For being there when I—well, when all of that happened. I’m sorry I caused—”

“You’ve already thanked me,” he interjected. “And you better not tell me that you’re apologising for fainting right now.”

“I’m—well, I’m just saying, you were right,” you said, disheartened by the disbelief in his eyes. You placed your water bottle on the fold-out tray and shifted in your seat. “I should have known better. Rested more. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry I didn’t listen, and it all led to... that.”

He sighed. This wasn’t about Sid; this was about something worse.

“That’s who you are, though,” he said. He should have known this would be something you would blame yourself for once you recovered. “You always have to get everything done, or you—you can’t sleep. You need to, uh, work on that, but you don’t need to apologise for it.”

You looked down, tracing a shaky finger over the armrest between your seats.

“And,” he added before you could speak, “to be fair, a lot of things that happened on tour were actually out of your control. You had no choice but to put in extra time and effort, I guess. The stage constructions collapsed, the venue was flooded—”

“Right, but these—well, anyway,” you cut yourself off, reverting to your original train of thought. “I’m sorry you had to drop everything a-and worry about me. Well, not just you; the whole thing ended up being a big scene that disrupted everyone. But I—I wanted to say this to you, first of all.”

He observed you for a long moment. Between the truce you’ve decided on in your hotel room, the conversation he’d overheard about your meeting with Nick, and the disturbing messages from an unknown number, Jungkook was having a hard time comprehending what he’d done to warrant an apology from you right now.

Then, a troubling thought occurred to him: what if this was your way of saying goodbye?

He had let you go last night. What if you had decided to leave, and this was the prelude to the end of your time together?

“I’m—I didn’t have to do it,” he said. “I did it because I—well, I mean, you were passed out. Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward in his seat. “It kind of sounds like you’re forgetting that you’re not just the manager here. You’re also my—uh, y-you’re our friend. We all would have acted the same way if it had been anyone else. It’s an ‘all for one, and one for all’ situation with us. You know that.”

He was right; your team had grown so close that none of you would have hesitated to help each other. Your unease simply stemmed from the fact that you were the one receiving help this time.

You swallowed. You thought you owed him an explanation about everything, but you haven’t even really gotten to it yet.

“Thank you,” you said. “For what you said and—and for what you did. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He gave you a hesitant smile. “Was I really so terrible at taking care of you that it made you change your workaholic ways?”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised by the gentle teasing in his words.

“No, you di—you were great. Except for the fact that you didn’t need to do that,” you said, shooting him a look that he promptly rolled his eyes at. You added, “I say that with gratitude, of course. But, um, I felt very uncomfortable just lying there while everyone else—well, can’t let that happen again. Anyway, this isn’t—”

“I hope it won’t happen again,” he interrupted. “But it’s—well, you’ve spent your whole life taking care of... everything. Your brother, your mum, uh, e-even me. It’s second nature to you, I don’t know how else to—you can’t help but actively try to fix things. So, I-I don’t mind being the person who reminds you to take it easy sometimes. I just want you to listen.”

He’d said something very similar to you last night and you dug your teeth into your lower lip so you wouldn’t argue.

You thought you weren’t doing a very good job of fixing things—nevermind that you’ve subconsciously turned absolutely everything around you into your personal responsibility, and it was simply unrealistic to take care of it all.

“Thank you,” you chose to say. “I just, um—I don’t want you to think I’m talking to you so you’d make me feel better. You don’t need to do that. And it’s my turn to expla—”

He whipped his head to look at you so suddenly—an almost offended expression on his face—that the rest of your sentence got caught in your throat.

“Wh—why do you always think that?” he asked. “That I do something for you because I feel like I have to?”

“I don’t—I know you’re not—ah.” Leaning back in your seat, you attempted to rearrange your thoughts as if you were shuffling stubborn cards in a deck—trying to find the one you needed to win a game against yourself. “That’s not even the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said, a little worried. “What is the main thing?”

It took you a moment to find your breath.

“The conversation that we had last night—well, not just last night, actually, it’s been happening for a while. But, uh, last night specifically—it wasn’t supposed to end like that,” you said. He lowered his eyes. “That’s what I wanted to, um—to bring up. Because we’re not talking again, you know? I mean—okay. That’s not true. You are talking. But I’m not. I-I think it’s still new to me that we’re—that we’re actually talking about things. About everything. I’m sorry I haven’t said much to you in return.”

You exhaled when you finished speaking—finished stammering, really—but you didn’t feel relieved. There was a lot more you had to say.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt his thoughts drift back to Amsterdam once again, when he had entered your hotel room to apologise, and you told him you forgave him and apologised in return. He remembered the pained, laboured beating of his heart as he listened to you—thinking, all the while, that he had no right to want you all for himself.

Now, he had some additional time to think about how to respond, because the flight attendant started the safety demonstration at the front of the plane, preparing for take-off.

He fastened his seatbelt, relieved by the silence on his phone—but the quiet pause between you as the plane lifted off the runway felt very loud in his head.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, “you find the weirdest things to feel guilty about.”

You furrowed your brows while Jungkook idly twirled the onyx signet ring on his index finger.

“You’re never obligated to respond to what I tell you,” he said. “I didn’t say any of those things to you in Manchester in exchange for your immediate forgiveness, or for some similar stories, or for—anything, really. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you everything, and that’s it.”

“I-I get that,” you shifted in your seat, restricted by the seatbelt, “but I’m your manager. And I-I left you in a confusing, stressful situation by yourself when I refused to talk to you right away. That was—it was unprofessional at best, and cruel at—”

“You’re more than that to me, though,” he cut in. You gripped the armrest tighter. “You know that. And you didn’t… leave me in that situation as my manager. You left me there as my ex-girlfriend. You have that right. You were confused and stressed, too.”

Your gaze slid over his black and grey flannel and the t-shirt with a Rated Riot logo underneath. The plane cruised at the designated altitude, but you still felt pushed into your seat like you had during take-off.

“I don’t—I’m not sure those two roles can be separated any longer,” you admitted.

Oh, whispered an alarmed pang of his heart. And, oh? echoed the multitude of shivers rippling underneath his skin.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

You drew in a breath. You didn’t want to start from the beginning because you had a feeling that he might not let you get to the end, so you decided to start from the explanation—the one that you’d come here to give him, but kept getting sidetracked as he responded to you in ways you weren’t anticipating.

“People on tour,” you began, “are very invested in our, uh—situation.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “They’re invested?”

“Apparently, we’re a popular topic backstage.”

Quickly enough, he thought he figured out your implication: if he hadn’t played along with Sid, the staff on this tour might have been having very different conversations.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, that’s not—well, it’s not just your fault,” you replied. “It takes two, right?”

“Right, but I was the one who made the bet.”

“You—okay. But this isn’t about the bet—” you paused. Reconsidered. “Well, alright, the bet sort of kick-started a lot of things, but it’s not—that’s not the problem from my point of view right now.”

Oh, once more. And then, ah.

You were talking, he realised, about the things you didn’t want to talk about in your hotel room in Manchester. The things you’ve affectionately labelled as “a confusing, stressful situation.” The things you were supposed to discuss later, when the time was right. Except he had succumbed to the terminal case of nothing-matters-anymore-if-you’re-leaving-the-band and got drunk instead.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s… fine with me.”

“Alright,” you said. “So, here’s our problem: I’m your manager.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and pulled his chin back.

“If that’s our only problem,” he said, “we are very lucky people.”

A brief smile flickered on your face.

“It’s our biggest problem,” you clarified. “But we definitely are lucky.”

Encouraged by the amusement in your eyes, he grinned. “Because we have each other?”

Your smile grew and even the plane itself seemed to shake a little when his heart rate accelerated at the sight of it.

“Because we can solve this problem,” you said.

His face fell. He thought he could guess where you were going with this.

“How do you mean?” he still asked, his voice a low murmur.

You thought you could have used some of the whiskey that Jungkook had sought out last night.

With a measured breath, you said, “I leave the band, and—”

“Wait,” he cut you off. “Is that supposed to be—”

“Hear me out first—”

“No, listen—if the problem is that you’re my manager,” he said, “then you leaving Rated Riot is not the solution.”

Jungkook sounded a little like Seokjin had earlier—a stark contrast from the way he’d spoken to you last night by the bus.

“Are you suggesting that because people are talking about us backstage?” he pressed.

You turned away. “It’s not just that. I mean, they’re already talking and that’s—well, it’s not great. But we can’t stop the wheel from turning now, or however that saying goes. What we can do, however, is stop it before it gets worse. And by that I mean, you know—we need to decide what the hell we’re doing.”

That was what he wanted, he thought. But now he was confused.

You seemed to want to make a decision about your relationship together. Yet you also seemed to believe that leaving Rated Riot was the best option. He failed to see how both of these things were possible at the same time.

“So, you’ve made up your mind, then?” he asked. “About leaving?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said. “I don’t want to leave the band, but—”

“Well, that’s the thing, then,” he said sharply, unfastening his seatbelt. Turning to face you, he stumbled over his own confusion, “I’m—I don’t want to hold you back. I told you. But I thought you—I thought it would be—I thought you wanted to leave. I thought—but you want to stay. So, stay.”

Stay.

It was very simple, really, very concise. But it carried a lot more weight than his words last night when he had caught you off guard. When he had let you go.

You wanted to stay. You just didn’t think you should.

Your response wasn’t particularly verbal. “Hmm.”

“Is it me?” Jungkook asked. “Am I the only reason you’re thinking of leaving?”

He didn’t sound accusatory, even though you were prepared for it. He sounded apologetic instead—almost guilty—and you were completely unprepared for that as a million tiny needles pricked at your heart.

“You’re not the only reason,” you replied. “You’re part of it. And I don’t—look, I-I don’t want to leave. But that sounds reasonable when you look at where we are right now.”

He heard nothing of what you’d said.

“That’s not reasonable in the slightest,” he insisted.

“Jungkook—”

“You have to stay. If you—”

“But if that’s the choice that would make more sense for us,” you interjected, exasperated, “then I don’t mind leaving. If—if we weren’t working together anymore, then maybe we could try to finally figure our shit out.”

Now he heard it.

He had a vague awareness that the other passengers behind you had turned off their screens and removed their headphones, choosing to listen to your conversation instead. But he was too stunned by the look in your eyes to care.

So, that was what you were trying to say: you were prepared to leave Rated Riot to fix your relationship.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took another minute for coherent words to come to him.

“We can—we can figure our shit out while working together,” he said. “Why do you have to leave?”

“It’s—you have to understand,” you said, “that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m pretty sure neither do you, but that’s how you usually function.” Jungkook sobered up enough to offer a noncommittal shrug. You continued, “but for me—this is freaking me out. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen and what we should do, and—leaving the band sounds—it seems reasonable. It seems safe. Smart. And that’s what I’m clinging to.”

He swallowed, not trusting himself to move. “But that’s—”

“Please, it’s—this is what I wanted to say to you—what I should have said to you last night.” There was a pleading tone in your voice. He nodded, quiet while you continued. “If I stay with Rated Riot, and we try to solve our problems… there are only two ways that can go, right? We both know as much. Either we get back together, or we don’t.”

Jungkook was mesmerised by how glaringly simple this was, in principle: either you used a label on your relationship, or you didn’t.

He knew he was going to love you either way, but he couldn’t breathe, suddenly, at the thought of this other choice in this dilemma—the choice where you didn’t get back together, and he spent the rest of his life deliberately going crazy, so he could return—at least in his mind—to that day seven years ago when he first met you.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he managed to say. “That’s pretty much the choices that we’ve got.”

You reclined in your seat, lifting your gaze to the light control buttons overhead.

“If we get back together…” you began, exhaling. “Then, we might have to face a lot of problems from the label. But we might be alright in the end. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw. He attempted to formulate a response that would be logical and appropriate in this situation. But really, his head felt too small for his thoughts and his tongue too big for his mouth.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” he eventually said.

“Mhmm,” you replied distractedly. “But see, what if we don’t get back together? Or we do, but it doesn’t work out?”

That was what worried him, too—but for different reasons.

He knew that you were looking at this from a pragmatic perspective. A logical, what-would-make-more-sense perspective.

He didn’t think he’d ever looked at it this way. For him, this was simple: he loved you and wanted to be with you. He didn’t care how inconvenient and illogical it might seem to those around him, and he refused to think about what would happen if this love didn’t work out. It would have to. How could it not?

But he recognised his privileges; he knew he didn’t have as many responsibilities as you did. And, alright, fine, he thought about it—realistically, if you broke up again, he’d probably drink until he turned into a puddle of whiskey, while you’d flee across the globe to get away from it all.

And yet—was that all there was to this? Just rationality and calculated decisions?

Jungkook cleared his throat and asked the question that he believed really mattered here.

“Do you love me?”

Someone on the plane gulped audibly and held their breath. He wondered if it was him.

The colour of your eyes deepened, then blurred. “I-I—that’s—that’s not—”

“Answer me,” he whispered.

You tried, but no words came out. This moment resembled the nightmares that haunted you lately: you opened your mouth to scream, but silence stifled every sound you tried to make.

“T-that’s—” you began and stopped yourself before you could stutter any further. You took a breath. “That’s not important right now—”

“How can it not be—”

“Because I do love you,” you said quickly—the words slurred into one desperate Idoloveyou, a hopeless Idoloveyou, a how-can-you-possibly-expect-me-not-to Idoloveyou. “But I don’t think I should. I don’t think you should, either. We’re a—we’re a fucking mess.”

Visibly frozen, Jungkook found himself thinking that if this was the sixteenth century, and the two of you just happened to have this conversation in some public square, the townsfolk would have surely accused you of witchcraft.

It was uncanny, the way you cast a spell on him with just four words—all four of which he heard with perfect clarity: I do love you. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he heard the rest. He felt like he was already burning in your place.

“Right,” he thought he said. He couldn’t feel his face. “But we’ve always—”

“I’m—I have to—I do owe you,” you said. He watched you, his expression oscillating between mild confusion and outright bewilderment. “You said I don’t, but I do. I could have told you what was going on in my head like you told me. Honestly, all this time, whenever I talked to people, they all told me to speak to you. To talk it out. And I closed up in my head instead. If I don’t talk about it, I don’t have to deal with it. You know?”

He blinked, finally. “That’s—”

“I’ll explain it, though, okay?” you said. “Please?”

You gave him too much power—as if he could ever say no to you. As if he could stop listening. As if every fibre of his being didn’t ache to stay close to you.

Warm—so unbearably warm that it felt like he was in the middle of exploring the landscapes Dante depicted in Inferno—Jungkook wiped off the sweat from his palms on his dark jeans.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

“It won’t take long,” you assured. “Really, I don’t even have much to say. I’m fucking scared. That’s all there is to it.”

Jungkook seemed to be practising the lost art of swallowing his tongue. He wanted you to continue and you were biting your lip in a way that suggested that this was not all there was to it. You only wished it was.

You took a trembling breath, and your lungs followed—quivering, it seemed, as they tried to provide you with the oxygen necessary for all that you were about to say.

“I spent the first fifteen years of my life watching my parents break up and get back together again,” you began. “And do you know what I felt every single time they broke up? Actual rage.” You laughed wryly here like this reaction was absurd. “But when they got back together, I was fucking—I was hopeful. I refused to speak to them, of course—I was a teenager—but I was… Inside, just like my mum, I also hoped that this would work. That this time would be the one.”

You swallowed and lapsed into a silence so long and heavy that Jungkook worried you might never speak again.

Fifteen years, he thought. And all this time, he’d assumed that your dad left for the final time when you were twelve. That was already bad enough, of course, but Jungkook hadn’t realised that the back-and-forth between your parents that you’d mentioned back in Tilburg had taken place after that. He hadn’t realised that you and your brother had gone through three years of almost having a father—and your mum through almost having a partner.

“I knew they were a tragedy together,” you continued. Jungkook didn’t know how to raise his eyes to look at you. “It was obvious that it wouldn’t last. I always knew it, and I always said that to my mum. But deep down, I still fucking hoped that they’d get together and it would work.”

You shook your head with a cold, unforgiving smile.

“How fucking stupid,” you concluded. “All hope does is bring misery and disappointment.”

“You were a child,” he said, his brows drawn together—sad and a little scared for your younger self. “You just wanted your parents to be together. You wanted a family.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. Then again, “yeah.”

A minute passed without either of you speaking. Flight attendants crossed the aisles, offering complimentary snacks, but missing you—either by mistake or because there was no one in your seats on the plane. The two of you were somewhere else.

“I think,” you said once the commotion around you quieted, “that I wasn’t just angry at my mum for trying again and again, even though it never worked. Or for never losing hope that maybe they could be happy together. I think I was also angry at myself. Because I never truly lost hope, either.”

Jungkook hung his head, his lips tight in silent contemplation.

“So that’s what I’m afraid of,” you said. “I’m scared that this—us—will turn out to be like that. I’m scared that we’ll let wishful thinking take over, and we’ll get back together even though we shouldn’t. Even though it’s obvious that we won’t last.”

Right away, he wanted to insist that you would defy those odds. That there was nothing obvious about the two of you whatsoever. He wanted to promise all that and more, but it wasn’t right—not after you endured fifteen years of broken promises between two of the most important people in your life.

“You, um—” he started to say and coughed suddenly, caught off guard by his dry throat, “—you told me before that you admired your mum’s courage. F-for trying again.”

You handed him the overpriced airport water bottle that you had bought earlier. Jungkook nodded in gratitude.

“I did,” you confirmed. “And I do admire that about her. But I don’t have any of her courage.” You brought a shaky finger over your forehead, not quite scratching it. “I always say that I don’t believe in second chances, but the truth is, I think I do believe in them. I’m just debilitated by my fear that these second chances might not work out.”

Jungkook lowered the bottle. He’d emptied almost half of it in a single gulp, but an anxious undercurrent inside of him had absorbed it before he could feel any relief.

“Is that, um,” he tried to ask, “is that something you feel in general or—or because it’s us?”

You thought about that for half a second and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where a second chance held so much significance,” you said. “This isn’t a mistake that you can fix. It’s not a human error. It’s you and me. And it’s so—it’s final. There won’t be another chance for us, it’s now or never. And what if it’s never?”

You lowered your gaze, your fingers restless as they toyed with the sleeves of your black shirt. Every now and then, you’d lift your hand to your bare neck—you still hadn’t found any of your necklaces—as if seeking a distraction from the weight of the moment.

“Y-you are—you’re my—” you tried and couldn’t. Finally, you looked at him, and the words you couldn’t voice were right there, shimmering uncertainly in his dark eyes. “You’re my first thought in the morning and the last one at night. I don’t think my heart could take it if I started to have hope for us again, but we didn’t work out in the end.”

Jungkook felt his heart trip over several beats—

Stumble down his ribs—

Crash into his stomach—

Roll around the hollow cavities somewhere at the very bottom—

Rise suddenly, all the way back to his chest—

Expand—

And explode, it seemed. In a flash of light so vivid and intense that for a minute or two, his blood stopped running and he survived on nothing but the words you’d just said.

“And so that’s what I meant,” you finished, and he struggled to hear your next words over the loud pounding in his chest. “If I stay here and we don’t get back together—or we do, but not for long—then what? We see each other every day, we try to act like nothing’s wrong, we learn how to go back to being professional, and then four years later, you make another bet?”

Jungkook found the end of your sentence so utterly unexpected that he wasn’t sure if he had even heard you correctly. His response was half of a gasp and a fractured “I—” before you cut him off.

“I’m joking,” you said with a gentle smile—one that managed to feel both, very fitting and completely out of place in this situation. “That’s—well, that is why I think it’d be more reasonable for me to leave. That way, I think, we could figure it out without some dramatic, tragic consequences in case it, uh—in case something goes wrong.”

“R-right,” he said. A warm haze settled on his face in a delicate shade of pink. It appeared almost soft to the touch. “I… I understand. I-I don’t—I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that would take that away. All of your fear.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. There might not be anything to say at all.”

Jungkook hurriedly ran his tongue over his lips. He wasn’t thinking about you leaving right now. He was thinking about you staying and fighting through it.

He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t think he could mend these particular wounds in your heart. They ran deeper than his love could reach.

It wasn’t him that you should have talked to about this. It wasn’t him that could help you reach an agreement—or, at least, an understanding—with your own self.

“You should talk to your mum,” he said.

You looked up from the floor of the plane, surprised. “What?”

“Talk to her,” he repeated. “Just to hear what she thinks about everything. To hear her reasoning. To understand why she made the choices that she did. I think that would be good for you both.”

Your surprise deepened and gained an edge. You looked alarmed, as if the notion that a caregiver could ease your hurt rather than deepen it was new and foreign.

“I’ve—we’ve never—my mum and I have only talked about her relationship with my dad maybe once in our whole lives,” you said. “I have never even talked to her about my own relationship. You know I haven’t.”

He nodded solemnly. “I have, though.”

“What?” you asked. There was a ringing in your ears. “You have—you’ve talked to—to my mum? About—”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you everything.”

For a good minute, you watched him with an expression that held more questions than possible ways of asking them.

“I—I’m very confused right now,” you managed.

He nodded again, understanding, but still not offering any explanations.

He’d told you most of everything, really—he’d called those bits of the story “Haunting” and “Cursed.” But the rest of it had to be something you pieced together on your own.

For a long time, he had imagined this to be something that would hit you years later, perhaps when you would accidentally hear an old Rated Riot song. You’d think no, it can’t be, and you’d rush home. You’d pull out the albums, the track lists, and the lyrics.

And you’d know.

These conversations with your mum were his far side of the moon—invisible, but still present, still heavy.

These conversations were his thoughts and hopes and countless fears.

They were everything he brought to Rated Riot and everything he expressed in the recording booth, in Namjoon’s studio, and on stage.

They were his past and his present, and someone else’s future.

They were him without you, but still searching for you every morning when he woke up.

They were you, you, you.

Everything he’d ever talked to your mum about had been his songs. And all his songs had always been a tale about you—in every banal, every impossible narrative he could find within himself.

They were about seeing you and growing wings.

About kissing you and coming home.

About losing you and bleeding out.

About forever and five minutes that don’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not capable of much else. “I needed her help with something. I didn’t really tell her anything, uh, directly, so to speak. But she—she knows. She’ll tell you everything. It’s just, um—you have to talk to her, too. You have to tell her what you told me.”

Airplanes, you realised suddenly, made it very easy to force yourself to stop running away. There was nowhere to escape—you could see the clouds reflected in his eyes and you were already falling in them anyway.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a small nod and scratched his knee absentmindedly.

“I want you to stay,” he stated. “With the band. It’s—it’s selfish, but it’s the truth. I’ve always tried to encourage you to stop thinking so much a-and just do what you wanted, and this—this is what you want, despite your fear. You want to stay.”

You looked at him with a forlorn expression and he felt his hands twitch at his sides.

“But what will we do?” you asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far, right? So, give us a chance. We’re not completely hopeless. We can... talk our way through it all, step by step.”

You’ve talked your way through a lot and you have gotten this far, that was true. Even if the journey hadn’t been pleasant.

Seokjin had told you earlier today that as long as you stayed with the band, no one would care about what happened next. And, really, no matter how you looked at it, this was what it all boiled down to: it was just you.

Only you—afraid of what others will say, afraid of getting hurt and hurting him again, afraid of doing too much, and afraid of not doing enough.

“I’m—” you tried, “w-we don’t know what will happen. That’s why I’m—”

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right. We don’t know what will happen. That’s fucking terrifying. I’m scared, too.”

He did look a little scared, but he licked his lips and successfully collected himself.

The two of you were so close to meeting in the middle and taking that first step together—just a little more strain between your shaking, outstretched hands.

“And I-I know that the bet is another thing that—that might make it harder for you to believe that we can—that we can work it out,” he added, spinning his ring around his finger twice more. “But I want you to know that it—the bet was a fucked up thing to do. But it gave me a reason to talk to you about everything that I already wanted to talk to you about. I’m—even without the bet, I would have approached you, eventually. It just—I was fucking scared, so it might have taken me longer.”

It wasn’t just you.

Fear was in the epicentre of everything you were saying to each other. It was like the wind in every city you visited on this tour—inescapable, uncontrollable, persistent.

He was afraid, too—of trying and failing. Afraid of getting his heart broken and breaking yours. Afraid of never finding the forever that he desperately wanted with you.

“My point is,” Jungkook finished, “I think this is inevitable, because—well, let’s be honest,” he chuckled softly, trying to lessen the gravity of his confession, “all I’d ever wanted in my entire fucked-up life was you.”

Your breath trembled.

Something very deep inside of you wanted you to believe that inevitability was meant for the two of you, too.

“It’s been four years, though,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “What if it takes us another four to find a way to make this work?”

“It—well, I don’t really care how long it takes, to be honest,” he said. “I’m going to die yours.”

He said that and your heart stopped beating for a moment to listen.

To wait.

To make one thing very clear for you: you would never survive losing him again.

And you were scared—completely petrified—to find yourself in a situation where losing him was possible. Where it was likely.

Jungkook saw it on your face. He saw everything—the anguish, the pain, the doubt, the fear.

But he felt a little exhilarated to find the fight in your eyes, too. This fight was the reason you were talking to him about things that you’ve never talked about. It was the reason you were here.

“We’ll decide everything else when the idea of—of trying again doesn’t scare you so much anymore,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “When you hear your mum’s point of view, and you can make a, uh—an informed decision.”

He noted that there was something softer in your eyes when you looked at him again, but he could still discern the lingering edges of doubt.

“You think that’ll help me make an informed decision?” you asked, touched by his choice of words.

“I hope it will,” he replied. “But we can work it all out, either way. I just think you need to talk to her. It’s been so long.”

“Right. It has been.” You clasped your hands around your neck and tucked your chin between your palms. “It—it probably won’t be an easy conversation, though.”

“Nor will it be short, I imagine.”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

He sensed the growing distance between you as your eyes ran over the back of the seat in front of you. He knew you well enough to understand what you were doing: you were mapping out the rest of your story in your head.

He didn’t like that. Your stories rarely had happy endings.

“You don’t—don’t start planning it ahead, though,” he said hastily—before you reached the unhappily ever after in your mind. “It’ll be late when we land in London. You need to sleep. Talk to her after that. When you—when you’re not working. We can wait. We have time.”

Finally, you allowed your gazes to meet again—and to linger a little longer this time.

You took a moment to note that, despite knowing Jungkook for so long, every time you looked at him, you still needed a minute to will yourself to keep breathing. You remembered thinking, after your first few dates, if that would ever go away—logically, it should have.

But you watched him now, seven years since you’ve met, and the beating of your heart still felt backwards.

I’m going to die yours

I’m going to die—

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll call her as soon as possible.”

He nodded twice and closed his eyes for a brief respite—but hesitated, suddenly, before opening them again.

He wondered, for a suspended moment, what it would mean for you—this ‘as soon as possible.’

Then he looked at you and decided to tell you what he wanted it to mean.

“Before that happens, though—before you talk to her, I mean—I-I want to still be able to see you,” he said and did so assertively, using the phrase I want, but really meaning, I must. “I don’t want to not talk to you.”

You felt your frosty expression crumble effortlessly into a soft smile.

“We’ve agreed to a truce, right?” you said easily. Lightly.

His heart soared.

He was smiling, too, but with caution—his lips were pressed together as he bit into his lip ring to contain his smile to a level that he thought appropriate.

His shining eyes gave him away, however, and you wondered—the thought sudden and overwhelming—if there was a point in your life when you weren’t in love with him when he smiled.

“Let’s try a friendship,” he proposed.

“Oh—” Your smile abruptly turned into laughter as you remembered trying this once before. It had lasted for about two days. “You know we can’t be friends. We don’t know how.”

The gentle cadence of your laughter made him weightless.

“What are you talking about?” he teased—so high that he was certain the flight attendants were going to ask him to take it down a notch because it was dangerous to float on the ceiling in the middle of a flight. “We can be whatever the fuck we want to be.”

Your laughter grew bolder, strengthened by the relief that you’ve had this conversation, that you’ve decided on your next steps, however uncertain they were—and his smile spread.

You could see him beaming through your half-closed eyes, and there was absolutely nothing—no matter how big or small, significant or not at all—that you wouldn’t have done for him when he looked like that, and no amount of fear could have stopped you.

He'd burn down half of Europe for you, Seokjin had said.

You were worried you’d burn all of it for him.

“Honestly,” you said, “we’re such a mess that I have nothing else to say. Sure. Let’s try being friends again. Why not?”

“For the time being?” Jungkook asked. There was a tentative glint in his eyes. “Until we figure out if—until we decide what we’re going to do with us?”

It was very considerate of him to say ‘we’ here, when you knew that you were the one who needed to get it together in the end.

“For the time being,” you confirmed.

“And you’ll stay?” he asked once more. “With Rated Riot?”

Last night, he had told you he was letting you go, and you needed to hear it—not just to see how much he’s grown, but to fully understand yourself. To stop jumping from possibility to possibility. To accept that it was okay to do what you wanted sometimes.

The past few days were like flipping a coin and realising, while it was mid-air, which side you were hoping it would land on.

“I’ll stay.”

Jungkook thought that this flight was going to be the most thrilling part of his day. But a miracle happened as soon as the plane touched down in London.

His grandmother called him.

It wasn’t an accident like he had initially assumed when he saw her name on his phone. She called because she missed her favourite grandson and wanted to wish him good luck at his concert (and chastise him a little for not wearing “enough clothing” on stage).

Jungkook wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were because she’d remembered who he was, remembered what he did for a living, because she’d called, or because she’d confirmed his long-held suspicion that he was her favourite grandson.

Perhaps, and most likely, it was all of these things.

He was so excited that he stared at his phone even after the call had ended, ignoring the influx of more unintelligible, frantic messages from the same unknown number. He probably would have spent the rest of the night fixated on the screen if his battery hadn’t run out by the time everyone settled in the hotel.

At that point, there was nothing Jungkook wanted more than to tell you about the fifteen-minute phone call. However, he couldn’t call or text with his phone off—and waiting for ten minutes until he found the charger in his suitcase seemed like half of an eternity.

Unaware of the lateness of the hour, he lingered outside the hotel, thinking of a plan.

In the end, he decided he didn’t want to draw more attention to your friendship—he hiccupped on the word even in his thoughts—and approached the decorative garden at the front entrance. Ficus plants (artificial, as it turned out) rested in a bed of pebbles (real, for some reason) and Jungkook grabbed a handful of those before heading back to the south wing of the hotel.

He counted down the windows until he identified yours, then took half a dozen steps back from the wall and tossed a pebble at your window. It hit the glass with a gentle thud and dropped onto the grass four floors below.

Jungkook waited for a minute—or what felt like a minute—and tossed another one, making this one bounce against your windowsill before it slipped into your room through the crack of the open window.

He waited again and, finally, your curtains fluttered. A moment later, he saw your puzzled face as you opened the window and covered your squinting eyes with your hand, peering down into the darkness.

“Jungkook?” you called out. “What—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention!” he shouted with an elated lilt in his voice.

You picked up the pebble from the windowsill and lifted it. He couldn’t see it very well from the ground, but he could see your confused expression.

“By throwing rocks at my window?”

“Yeah!”

“How—are you—for what—”

You stopped. There wasn’t a singular question you wanted to ask, because nothing about what he was doing made any sense whatsoever.

You leaned over the windowsill to get a better look at him, but it didn’t help much. The light from your hotel room made it difficult to discern his expression in the pitch-black night. And the garden lights adorning the exterior of the hotel only highlighted his white sneakers.

“I’m sure there were a lot of steps you could have taken before you had to resort to this,” you shouted into the night. “Most people text. Or knock on the door.”

“My phone’s dead,” he explained, lifting a black block that you assumed was the dead phone. “And I didn’t want anyone to see me going into your room. Can you come down here?”

“Wh—hold on a second.” You retreated into the room to put on a robe over the t-shirt you had worn to bed. The night wind felt a little less frigid when you leaned out of the window again. “Can you just come up here? It’s nearly six in the morning, no one will see—”

“Come on, we finally have a few days off!” he shouted, implying, clearly, that you’d have time to catch up on sleep later. After days of him forcing you to rest, this was very unusual—but, really, quite welcome.

You realised that something important must have happened for him to do this. However, his buoyant voice—and this whole situation in general—also made you wonder if he was drunk.

“I meant that it’s cold outside,” you said. “Wouldn’t it be warmer to—”

“I can—it’s not that bad,” he ended up saying after quickly surmising that his offer to warm you might lead to you throwing that same pebble right at his forehead. “Please?”

You were well aware that this could go on for a while, and it probably wouldn’t be long before your Romeo-and-Juliet-esque conversation attracted the attention of the hotel staff, who would politely ask you to find a different accommodation. The manager already didn’t seem especially pleased when he found out that a rock band would be staying at his hotel.

“Alright. I’m coming down,” you said. “Put the rocks back where you found them.”

He snickered and watched you close the window, disappearing inside of your room.

By the time he returned the remaining pebbles back to the garden, the sky was already beginning to paint itself red. The clouds obscured the rising sun, but Jungkook turned his head just in time to see you walk through the hotel door, and he felt like it was the middle of the day already.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a little concerned about the size of the grin on his face.

“My grandma called me,” he said. “She’s having a good day. She remembered me.”

“Oh, my God!” you gasped. All of your irritation about leaving your warm hotel room at this hour vanished in an instant. “That’s great news! Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah!” He nodded, nearly laughing in pure, beautiful euphoria. “The whole call, she was okay. Even scolded me for breaking the glass on her favourite picture frame when I came to say goodbye to her on the last night before the tour.”

You laughed, infected with his bright mood. “Jungkook, that’s—that’s fantastic. I’m so—”

Instinctively, he pulled you to him by wrapping his arms around your waist. For just a moment, he tightened his embrace and lifted you up slightly, laughing breathlessly when you gasped in surprise.

“I know,” he murmured into your neck as he lowered you to the ground. “I still can’t believe she really called.”

He held you close to him with one hand around your waist, and another one on the back of your neck—and you were stunned for a split-second. Then finally, muscle memory roused you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting the side of your head against his.

“I’m—I’m so happy to hear that,” you whispered, feeling his breath on your shoulder and the goosebumps that rose on your skin as a result.

“I am, too.” He slowly pulled his head back to look at you, and the sight of the smile on his face was enough to pierce your heart with something that you could never remove. “You’re the first person I wanted to tell this to.”

Wordlessly, you pulled him back into a hug. You could feel the stretch of his cheeks against yours as his smile widened, and you realised you’d never want to run away from this. You’d always want to stay.

You were going to stay.

No. That wasn’t right.

You wouldn’t just stay with Rated Riot, determined to destroy every ounce of your fear for him. You’d have mopped up whole oceans for him. Captured shooting stars and stuffed them into jars. Flooded the entire world with an endless sea.

You’d have done anything to have him here like this: smiling so much that he could barely speak while his chest thud-thud-thudded against yours.

You felt so much of it—this vast love that refused to die no matter how much it was beaten—that you didn’t know what to do with it all.

A minute later, you pulled back slightly—a little dizzy from the intense whirlwinds inside your chest.

“T-thank you,” you stammered. “For telling me. I’m really—I’m so happy for you.”

His hands lingered on your waist, extending the moment to the very end.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking a reluctant step back. “She, um—she asked me to say hi to you. You know, from her.”

You were surprised that she remembered you—and brought you up!—and your smile returned, encouraged by the bashful look in his eyes when he said this.

“Give her my best the next time you talk to her,” you said.

“I will.” He nodded eagerly, then slowed down. “Although, I, uh—well—I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“That’s okay,” you replied quickly, not wanting to lose the lightness of the moment so soon. “The important thing is that she’s having a good day today. And she called you!”

You raised your voice at the end of the sentence, and it was enough to rekindle his excitement.

“She did!” he sang. “She said I was her favourite grandson, by the way. So I was right.”

“Oh—hmm.” You remembered pretending to argue with him about this in Stockholm and couldn’t help yourself. “Well, alright. I guess that makes sense. Remember that stray orange cat that she used to feed every night? Reginald?”

“Reggie,” he said, grinning. The cat was one of the first things his grandmother mentioned when she called tonight; it had stopped coming to see her, but continued to take up a large place in her heart. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Well, I mean, she loved him so much, even though he scratched her every time she got too close,” you explained. “Clearly, she always had a soft spot for troublemakers.”

“Okay, now,”—he clicked his tongue—“my grandma did actually love that cat a lot, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered and he laughed, too, and for a moment, he thought his chest might have exploded if he felt any happier than he did right now.

Then he noticed you clutching your robe closer to your body. Whatever you’d worn underneath wasn’t enough to keep you warm now that the initial excitement slowly began to fade.

“Do you, uh… want to go back inside?” he asked, gesturing at the exposed skin of your wrists. “You’re shivering.”

You looked down at your hands. “I’m okay. But maybe we could sit?”

You turned to look around. There was a bench right at the edge of the garden, next to a bronze-coloured flowerpot that was placed in the pebbles Jungkook had used to “get your attention”.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

You shivered all over again when he sat down next to you, and the bench turned out to be smaller than it had appeared. You could feel every bounce of his restless legs.

“So,” you said, “what did you two talk about?”

He brightened at your question, and suddenly, you didn’t think he was anywhere near close enough.

“Oh, so many things,” he said. “She told me she’d like to see us perform. Can we make that happen when we go back?”

“Absolutely,” you promised.

“Yeah?” His smile widened and his bouncing increased. “She’ll probably hate it. Mosh pits aren’t her thing.”

“We’ll put her in the balcony seats,” you suggested. This conversation felt so ordinary that it was hard to imagine you could be talking to him about anything else. “She’ll love every second of watching you on stage.”

“She said she saw pictures from the tour,” he added, giddy. “My cousins showed her Maggie’s Instagram profile.”

“Did she see your pirate cosplay?”

Jungkook displayed a remarkable resilience to the pirate jokes after that first concert—you and Jimin suspected that the response from the audience played a big part in his newfound immunity—and he chuckled at it now.

“She did,” he said. “She said I reminded her of Kurt Russell in Escape from New York.”

You pulled back a little to get a better look at him, even though he no longer needed to wear the eye patch. Most of the discolouration around his eye had already faded and you’d managed to cover up the scratches with a few smaller, skin-coloured adhesive pads.

“Well, shit,” you said. “Maybe I do kind of see the resemblance. You’ve got the hair.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted.

You widened your eyes. “Jungkook. You don’t know Snake Plissken?”

“No, but my grandma said all her friends had a crush on him after the film came out,” he said. “Except for my grandma, of course. She insists she only ever had eyes for my grandpa.”

You both chuckled at this with a childlike glee—the thought of a love that spanned decades felt exhilarating and very possible as the sky awakened above you.

“My mum liked Kurt Russell, too, after the film,” you said. “And she was nine at the time. She snuck into the theatre with her brother and his friends.”

Jungkook inclined his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that guy’s not so bad, then.”

“He’s a classic,” you corrected. “But your taste in films isn’t.”

“That’s actually exactly what my grandma said,” he remembered. “She told me not to come home until I watched it.”

You could hear his grandmother saying this exact thing to him and felt yourself smile again.

“I think you’d love it if you watched it,” you said. “So, it’s not much of a threat.”

“Really?” He looked at you, but only for a fraction of a moment. “Would you—I mean, it’d be cool if we could—”

You knew what he was asking. And your response—like most of everything else tonight—came as a reflex. “I’m sure we can rent it on Amazon.”

“Okay,” he said, his shoulders slumping against yours in visible relief. “That—I’d like that.”

Unwelcome, the raw breeze of the late hour caught up with you, and you felt your body shudder involuntarily once more. Determined to ignore the chill, you opened your mouth to continue the conversation, but Jungkook suddenly leaned forwards.

“Here,” he said, slipping out of his dark flannel. “Put this on. It’s not much, but—”

“No, no—” you tried, but he drew closer to drape the flannel over your shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling back. To further reduce the significance of the gesture, he added, “it’s what friends do. And I’m warm anyway.”

You clutched the collar of the flannel tighter to prevent it from sliding off. Or just to have something to do with your hands. “Well—thanks, friend.”

A powerful waft of his cologne permeated your senses, and you closed your eyes, preserving the refreshing blend of woody and citrus notes that already took up a significant amount of space in your memory.

Every time you inhaled, his scent mixed with a different moment from your life—and it all flooded your mind in an unstoppable sequence.

Meeting Jungkook—

Kissing him for the first time on that rainy night in the park—

Hugging him hello every morning before class—

Borrowing his clothes when you stayed at his dorm—

Losing your mind when you found yourself alone and his scent returned to you, uninvited.

Jungkook appeared to be sharing your memories in real time as he inhaled sharply and tapped his fingers against his shaky thighs.

“Friends,” he said, swallowing, “probably don’t kiss each other.”

His words ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach without any matches.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, uh—t-they probably don’t.”

“Hmm. Right.”

“As your friend,” you said, sitting up straighter and letting his flannel settle around your shoulders while you lowered your hands to the wooden bench underneath you, “I’m pointing out that you’re on a high because your grandma called. That’s why you’re thinking about—”

“I’m on a high because I’m with you,” he stated. “My friend.”

The fire inside you spread rapidly, wildly, uncontrollably.

The way you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers from gripping the bench so tightly, yet you refused to let go of it, should have probably been studied scientifically.

“Well, then,” you said, “let’s look at it this way: have you ever kissed friends before? Sid maybe?”

Jungkook snorted. “God forbid.”

“Minjun, then?”

“No,” he said. “Do you think I should?”

You snickered. “No. But if we’re friends, too, then we probably shouldn’t do that, either.”

He looked at you, his lips puckered in thought. Unconsciously, you had started to scrape at the dark paint of the bench.

You hadn’t meant a word of what you’d said. He suspected as much.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But we’re such a mess, though, right?”

The echo of your own words on the plane brought a smile to your face again—a reaction more rooted in easing the sudden surge of anticipation rather than genuine amusement.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We’re such a mess.”

Jungkook felt a little afraid, which was something that he always felt when the world around him blurred, and he found himself incapable of looking away from your lips.

It was dangerous, this tunnel vision. This singular focus. This impossible, magnetic pull that defied all reason, that made the whole universe tremble with a silent—

He leaned closer.

For a fleeting moment, the space between you was filled with nothing but your echoing heartbeats and silent memories.

For a fleeting moment, time itself held its breath.

You remembered Oslo and the way Jungkook had pulled away. You remembered how worried you were, how horrified—he was drunk, and he’d pulled away. He’d done the rational thing.

Funny thing, rationality.

You thought you were perfectly rational when you closed the remaining distance and your lips brushed against his—hesitant, uncertain, tender. A permission, a question, and his unequivocal death, all in one.

Jungkook inhaled—as if checking if he was alive or just pretending to be—and reached up to touch your cheek. He pulled you closer and stole the remnants of your breath with his kiss.

It was fair, he thought. You had stolen his entire soul.

The touch of your lips lasted for less than a minute—not nearly enough time for the trees around you to exhale in clandestine relief—but the softness of his mouth, the slow, intoxicating smacking of your lips against his, and the faint notes of mint on his tongue did irreparable damage to your pulse.

He stole that too, he supposed, because when he pulled away, his heart seemed to beat with enough strength to support the lives of half the population.

“Do friends discuss what it means if they kiss?” he asked, winded. His chest touched yours every time it rose in an attempt to recover.

Your laughter was breathless, too. “I’m thinking no.”

“I like what you’re thinking.”

Something very tranquil and very happy was inscribed into the contours of your features.

Soft red feathers spread across the sky above you as the city slowly stirred awake.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was supposed to.

“I have a free day tomorrow,” you said. “Well, today.”

Jungkook was a bit puzzled by the shift in conversation but went along with it nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. The girls and I made plans, but I’m, uh—I’m going to call my mum before I go. I set an alarm for it and everything,” you said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Oh.” He was shaking a little, he realised. He hoped you wouldn’t notice it and decide to give him his flannel back. “Well, that—that’s good. You should do that.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze to the grass and the pebbles below. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he decided. “For good luck.”

Your surprised smile overshadowed everything else he wanted to tell you.

“Oh,” you said. “Is that what friends do?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You didn’t know? It can’t be just one kiss, that’s bad luck.”

“Actually, I heard even numbers are bad luck.”

He gasped theatrically. “Oh, but that’s terrible! I’ll have to kiss you three times, then. To be safe.”

You smiled and shook your head. He died a little then, because everything was here, just like in his worst nightmares and his favourite daydreams: your scent, your eyes, your smile. All of you.

“You’re always such an idiot,” you said with so much affection that the wind crept away miserably, defeated by the warmth in Jungkook’s gaze when he looked at you. When he felt your hand on the side of his face—gentle and careful so as not to touch the healing bruises on his cheek.

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if he’d ever remember how to breathe again. “You said you love me, though.”

“I do,” you said, beaming, as you ran the tips of your fingers over the edges of his wolf cut. “It’s a burden I have to live with.”

He shivered from your touch and leaned in—impatient, all of a sudden. His lips met yours with a soft, rehearsed touch, and he thought he died all over again when you pulled him closer.

Your heart brought back the memories of sensations that you’ve tried to bury; it revived them and set them loose in your chest when you kissed him back and felt the smile on his lips.

Your heart threatened to quit it, to burst into flames and take you down with it when you felt his tongue slowly glide over your lower lip.

Your heart settled right against his when you parted your lips. When you felt his warm breath mingle with yours. When you held onto him with everything you were feeling, and he held onto you.

He kissed you in every way that a friend wasn’t supposed to, and groaned softly when he touched the back of your neck and felt the relentless roughness of goosebumps under his fingertips. Your body reflected everything he was feeling.

Every time your lips met—gentle and feverish—every time he pulled you closer—frantic and heated—every time you inhaled when he exhaled—sharp and eager—you were setting fire to something that once was and building something new in its place.

There seemed to be small fragments of a foreign nature inside of you both—fragments that had danced with each other long before your first kiss and would continue the lively, eternal swaying for years and years after your last.

Maybe it was dust from two neighbouring stars, drawn together by a force stronger than them, but forced to crash somewhere on earth and settle and quiver and wake up inside of you both.

Or maybe it was something less grand. Maybe it was just luck. Just coincidence.

“See,” you whispered, pulling back. “I told you we don’t know how to be friends.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips. The sparks inside him were fierce and relentless when you smiled in response. “I think friends can decide what sort of friends they want to be.”

“What sort of friends are we going to be, then?”

“This sort.”

You could see the northern lights and the tails of comets in his eyes before he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste the longing for the Milky Way and the whispers of timeless meteors on his tongue.

And it all solidified this for you: the two of you were not luck and not coincidence.

You were something much more.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “follow you”

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

Text

What the Future Holds

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond & the Greens have returned victorious, but at what cost? [before all this: X XX XXXX]

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

"Aemond, tell me true. Did you do this to Aegon on purpose?"

Aemond stared at you for a long moment. Seeming to debate lying, but you knew he would never truly lie to you. "...not entirely on purpose..."

"Oh Gods Aemond...." You felt the air sift out of your lungs. Thinking back to Aegon's burnt, mangled body in the bed. The maesters not confident in his recovery to the point that they had all but stepped aside to let the septons have him. You needed to sit down.

Aemond rushed to your side, kneeling in front of your seat, his hands on your knees. "You have to believe me. This wasn't my intention at the start."

"Aemond..." He was getting perilously close to his first lie ever towards you.

"I was being careful, like you told me." You scoff ruefully at his explanation. It sounded a lot like blaming. "But Rhaenys and Aegon were..." He paused then. Seeming to think back on that moment and he did not look happy on it. "I did what I had to. Aegon got caught in the crossfire."

"Literally?" You don't mean to be glib but Nine Hells this was a lot to process.

Aemond's expression looked worried. Fretful. He took your hands in his and held them tight. As if scared you would run away if he didn't hold them. "With Meleys and Rhaenys gone, the Blacks have lost one of their dragons and decidedly best council. Rhaenyra is not educated in war. Daemon is as brash and impulsive as my brother. They will never recover from this. Aegon was...a necessary sacrifice for the greater good."

"Aemond, this isn't like you push him off a bridge or cut his arm off in a duel. You set him on fire!"

"If he can't stand a little dragon fire, then he's no true Targaryen." He reasoned. Sitting back on his heels but still focused on you. "Don't you see? With Aegon out of the way we can end this war and be done with it. No more loss. No more bloodshed."

"No more King?"

You knew Aemond was being honest with you, but you also weren't stupid enough in love to not realize his intentions weren't all pure. "You said it yourself. We must think of the line. Of our future." He grasped your hand again, only this time one for one. Your binding hands. "Mine and yours."

You take a deep breath and look around. Trying to make sense of this, but Aemond rose up on his knees to take your face in his other hand and focus on him. "Westeros deserves a king who will lead it to glory. Who will appreciate it. Not a man, a child, who has squandered everything in his life. Who didn't even want it. And Westeros deserves a Queen who will guide them. Not a meek eyed doe like my sister. Not a zealot like my mother. You. Together we can make this kingdom better. Because we will be better. The Gods may not have chosen us first, but we are the right choice." Every word from Aemond rouses your heart. You knew of his passion, but who knew he was such a wonderful orator. "Tell me you feel the same. Tell me you believe in this."

You look upon Aemond and think on his words. "I'm not going to help you kill Aegon."

He sat back down on his heels and frowned at you. "I wouldn't ask you to."

"But I won't stand in your way." You finish.

If he dies, you will accept it. If he lives, Aemond would have to accept that too. This was the coin toss the Gods had offered all of you.

The prince thought on your answer, then nodded. It was the best you could offer and the best he could hope for. "Alright." He rose back up again, tentatively this time, and wrapped his arms around you. "You believe me, right? You do not hate me, do you?"

"Never." You might not agree with what Aemond was doing, but you could never hate him. It was done now anyway. "Promise me you will remain careful though."

"I will try." He had promised you that before, and here you were.

You held Aemond close, and he clung to you. You want to believe that this was all a mistake. An accident of zealousness born from wanting this war over and peace to come to the land. A necessary sacrifice, as Aemond had said. There was no denying he was right. The Blacks would never recover from a blow so hard, but what of the Greens?

There is a nagging feeling in your chest, however, that for the first time Aemond was lying to you. Or perhaps he was also lying to himself.

There was still much uncertainty on what the future holds for the two of you, but all you knew was that you held your future right here. With Aemond in your arms. Even if you didn't agree with his motives.

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cosyvelvetorchid · 5 months ago

Note

We get so much JealousBuck, but I'd like a little JealousTommy. I feel like Tommy would be more threatened by women flirting with Buck, maybe make him question if Buck might not go back to exclusively dating women because it's "easier" and more socially acceptable.

I'm not gonna lie to you - I made myself cry with this one. Thank you for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this. 🩶

*****

"We can't keep having this same conversation, Tommy." Buck said, exasperated. "Men and women flirt with you all the damn time and I don't freak out about it."

"That's different." Tommy argued.

"Why, because you've always known who you were and I didn't?" Buck argued back.

"No. Yes. I.." Tommy didn't know how to answer that. It was, admittedly, partly because of Bucks' lack of experience with men. He was so quick to date a man he could, conceivably, be quick to go back to dating a woman. It would be the easier choice. Certainly, the most familiar to him. But it wasn't just that - Tommy was falling for Evan, and it scared the shit out of him. There was only a tiny sliver of his heart left to open up, and when it did, there would be no going back. "You've said it yourself how impulsive you can be - how do you know that you won't meet another woman and jump into that like you did with me?"

Buck looked at him dumbfounded. How could Tommy even say that to him? Bucks argumentative voice softened.

"How could you even think that?" He asked, his big blue emotion filled eyes looking back at Tommy. A vine of guilt was slithering its tendril around Tommys stomach and squeezing tightly. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am with you and want to be with you, before you believe me."

"I do believe you." Tommy insisted. "I believe that you believe it. But you don't know how you'll feel in a month. Six months, a year from now."

"Yes I do." Buck said firmly.

"How? How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I trust me. I trust myself. I guess you need to decide if you trust me too." Buck told him. He slowly walked out of Tommy's kitchen and out the front door. Tommy slumped into a seat at the island and put his head in his hands.

***

Tommy parked the car at the station and tentatively walked inside. Chim was the first person to see him.

"Hey, Tommy. What are you doing here?"

"Is Evan here?" He asked looking around.

"Uh, no. I thought you were supposed to be going out tonight."

"Is Eddie here?"

"Upstairs. Is everything al-" Tommy didn't wait for Chim to finish his sentence and immediately made his way upstairs.

"Tommy. You here with Buck? I thought you had a date night?" Eddie asked as Tommy walked into the kitchen. Clearly, Buck hadn't told him about their fight. Good.

"Can we talk?" He gestured with his head to the sofas at the other end of the living area.

"Uh, sure. Everything okay?" He asked as they sat down.

"Evan and I had a fight." He told him.

"Okay. Uh, I feel like I need to remind you that I'm his best friend. I mean, you can talk to me, obviously, but I'm not sure how he would feel about that."

"I know you're his best friend, Eddie, which is why I've come to you. I figured if I'm the asshole here, you'd be the person who told me."

"Fair point. So what happened?" Eddie asked. Tommy explained everything about the women flirting with Buck at the bar they were at and the fight they had afterwards. Eddie was quiet for a moment as he absorbed all the information.

"Well, I think it's quite simple." He explained. "The question you need to ask yourself isn't 'will Buck go back to dating women?', it's 'do you trust him when he tells you you're the one he wants to be with?'. Because if the answer is no, from my perspective.. Buck isn't the problem. The call seems to be coming from inside the house, Bud."

Tommy thought about Eddie's words for a moment before sighing and letting his body fall back into the couch. He was right. Tommy needed to decide if he trusted Evan enough to know what he wanted.

***

He sat in his car outside Evans, building for almost an hour before finally going inside. As he approached Evans door, he still had no clue what he was going to say. He just hoped that seeing him in front of him would help him figure that out. He took out the key that Evan had given him a few weeks ago as they hit six months together and unlocked the door. Evan was leaning against the island facing the door. Tommy wondered if he'd been waiting there for the last few hours for him to walk in.

"Hey." He said quietly and closed the door behind him. "Evan i-"

"Stop." He held up his hand and took a few steps forward, stopping a few feet in front of Tommy. "I need to say something be-before I lose the courage." He took a deep breath. Tommy nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

"I know that us dating was a big leap of faith. For both of us. You've been hurt by guys who couldn't, or wouldn't, come out of the closet, and obviously, I've never dated a guy before. It was a risk. For both of us. And i know I walked into this not really knowing what I was ready for. But-but i took that risk because i wanted to. And-and there has not been a moment, not a single second, that I have regretted that decision. I will take that risk every day to be with you because.. because I love you, Tommy. And I know it sounds stupid, but, I think.. I feel like.. like a part of me loved you before I even knew you existed."

It was the single, most beautiful thing Tommy had ever heard. A giant, thick surge of emotion shot from his heart and lodged itself in his throat, catching his breath on the way. Water filled up his eyes, and he swallowed, trying to still himself.

"You are not the first guy on a list of guys I'm going to date, Tommy. You.. you're it for me. And yeah, I know, everyone will probably say that I'm just being the same old Buck, all reckless and impulsive, and it'll probably blow up in my face, but I don't care. I would risk that happening every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to spend one more moment with you."

Never, in his 40 years on earth, had anybody ever made Tommy feel the way he was feeling right now. Every fear he had about this relationship, every insecurity melted away. Evans face - his gorgeous and open and earnest face - looking at him was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He had walked into Evans's apartment, not knowing how he felt or what he wanted to say. But now he did. Now, his feelings were crystal clear. And nothing in the world was going to stop the next words from coming out of his mouth.

"Marry me."

Bucks eyes open wide in unison with his mouth.

"T-tommy.. I wasn't.. that's.. " Buck was stumbling over his words more than he ever usually did. Tommy stepped forward, taking his hands in his.

"Evan, I know this seems like I'm being.. Well, being all 'Buck'.. but.." He took a breath "..and I'm not saying we should get married anytime soon - I'd wait 10 years if it's what you wanted. It's not about when we do it, it's about just how much I fucking love you, and how it would make me so God damn happy to know that you want to be my husband." Evans eyes were beginning to fill up now. His hands were shaking in Tommy's, who held them tighter.

"I was an idiot, and I am so, so sorry, Evan. What I was thinking and feeling before was entirely because of my own fear. My own stupid insecurities. I never in a million years thought I would ever find someone like you. Someone who is so beautiful inside and out, someone who makes me feel like I'm worth something. That I'm something precious that you have and -" The tears he was trying so hard to hold on finally fell down his cheeks. "-and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life making you feel as precious as you make me feel."

"I... you're right -" Evan said after composing himself. "You are being all 'me'. Proposing after barely being together for 6 months is definitely impulsive and reckless." He said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Would it also be impulsive and reckless if I said yes?"

Tommy felt like someone had lit fireworks in the centre of his chest. Those illegal ones that are far too big and dangerous. The ones you know could blow up, taking your limbs with them, but you buy them anyway because they're so beautiful they're worth the risk.

"Really?" He held Evans face in his hands. Tears were still caressing Tommys cheeks, but he didn't care to wipe them away. He'd happily look at Evan through wet lashes forever.

"Yes." Evan replied. Tommy pulled him forward, hard, crashing their lips together. They both whimpered at the force. Tommy wrapped his arms around Evans neck and held him as tight as he could, as though if he let go, Evan would somehow disappear like smoke into thin air. Evan pushed his face into Tommy's neck and sighed with such contentment he thought he'd float away. They stayed like that, in the middle of his kitchen, for a while.

"Evan Kinard. I like the sound of that." He spoke into Tommy's neck.

"Me too."

#tommy kinard #911 abc #bucktommy #911onabc #911 #buck x tommy #911 buck #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #bucktommy prompt #bucktommy fic #911 prompt #cvo prompts

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i-am-a-fan · 8 months ago

Text

I saw a post talking about how there’s a deep mischaracterization of Mk in the fandom specifically about his monkey form and I’m here to dissect it. (WIth doodles!)

Tldr: Will Mk end up hurting his family in season 5 due to his new Monkey form? Most likely no, but it is possible that he indirectly hurts them by not understanding the limits of his power.

First things first let’s collect a list of attributes that we know Mk has from past seasons. This will serve as a spine or checklist to see if certain actions are possible. A thing to keep in mind though is the ranking of each attribute as the writers of LMK wrote there are characters as complex and sometimes abandon certain character values if their center value is threatened.

Mk’s character value list (in my opinion) is as follows:

-Family

-Strength

-Freedom

-Dependability

with family and strength being so close to each other, so sometimes strength ends up as Mk’s main concern. Of course, all of these end up mixing at times and in the first seasons we see the mixing of these values gets him in trouble

Desiring the freedom of choice over listening to Wukong (Pig Pong Panic). Wanting to be dependable but overestimating his strength (Duplication). Wanting to be strong but forgets his family in the process (shadow play). Eventually, he gets his priorities in check and has ended up sticking to this list for most of seasons 3 and 4.

Now his flaws (in no particular order):

Impulsivity

Forgetfulness

Stubbornness

Blind devotion

He’s overcome a lot of these when he was forced to learn them in season 3. His stubbornness to not tell anyone what was happening with the LBD got people hurt. His impulsivity with his actions ended up crashing the ship, and almost sold his family to a goldfish demon.

(Text: Mk's Fault, Good Intentions, Trying mentor)

So he’s had to come up with methods of working around that. Mk’s blind devotion to Wukong almost got Mei killed, and we see how he changes because of it. At the end of season 3, Mk doesn’t explicitly say that he sees Wukong in a new light but he heavily implies it with the metaphor of a bowl of noodles.

So… Will Mk go crazy and end up hurting his friends?

I highly doubt it. While I toyed with the idea, Mk is a lot smarter than the fandom usually gives him credit for. He knows Wukong is flawed, and he still trusts in him because he knows Wukong is trying. Mk has faith in Wukong’s strength and the fact that Wukong also heavily values family, even if his isolation makes it a lot harder for him to do so. Just rewatch the ending of season 3 where Wukong apologizes to Mk and watch as Mk comes to the realization that Wukong is trying so hard to make up for his past. (They also drive this point home in season 4 with how disappointed Wukong sounds at himself for not finding Mk in the scroll in the season finale.)

(Text: He's flawed and trying, Has to accept harsh reality, Dissociating Coping mechanism)

So what about Mk’s impulsivity? I doubt that’d be something that directly harms his friends. He’s worked on his impulsivity by working with others (Redson in season 3 and Mei’s planning in season 4) to help fill in the gaps in his plans. In order for his impulsivity to harm others, you’d have to break that family value first or raise that value of strength and freedom. Most likely this flaw can manifest in Mk overdoing his Monkey form ™ and sending a shockwave that accidentally hurts the people around him. Probably manifesting either in training or while having fun with Mei (think about how Mk was in the Bad Weather episode).

Okay, what if Mk is tricked into it like he was in Season 4 (back to the flaw of blind devotion)? Mk has spent every season backstabbed by someone he trusted. We see him snap at Azure after he finds out that he was going to keep Wukong in the scroll. He snaps at Macaque in season 4. It’s safe to say that he’s learned, at least partially, to not trust others so blindly. Mk is also supposed to have gotten the “skill of self-reflection” in “Revenge of the Spider Queen” but his reflecting has mostly just impacted the other flaws.

(Text: Side note, Monkey Mk doesn't have a nose)

But there is one possibility I toy with, bottled up emotions. Mk has extremely big emotions but hates showing any emotion that can be seen as negative. He loves being happy and he’s not afraid to show it, but as soon as those emotions turn to doubt, anger, or sadness he bottles them up fast. He knows he can rely on his family, but he’s stubborn and thinks that his emotions aren’t worth that hassle. Take the ending of season 3 where Mk states that “he tries not to think too hard” about his own place in the universe, which could be due to a fear of losing the value of freedom if he has a specific role to play in the universe.

(Text: Guys He's so avoidant, forced to think about his identity, 18-early 20's and Identity crisis)

It’s worsened by the fact that every. other. character. avoids. their. emotions. No other characters in this series are open about their emotions except Tang and Sandy. And from season 3 (and a bit of season 4) we know that Mk doesn’t view Tang in an extremely positive light.

Not exactly negative, but his admiration lies more on the rest of the team. Macaque points this out in season 2 stating in “Shadow Play” that Mk should talk out his insecurities, but no one else does that.

That being said Mk isn’t entirely forgetful either. Macaque was a season 1 villain with his betrayal going through season 3. Mk’s high value of family, and flaw of blind devotion, make him want to give him a chance as Macaque’s past is connected with Wukong’s. HOWEVER, Mk is also stubborn and hasn’t forgiven Macaque’s actions. That’s why he snaps, plus the fact that Macaque is terrible at direct communication. Like I said before, Mk won’t directly hurt anyone he cares about, but if his monkey form is highly connected with his emotions (as most magic tends to be) having those bottled-up insecurities might accidentally cause Mk to unleash more power than he means to.

(Text: Normal, Fed up Meter, rage (on jar))

I have no idea where season 5 is going to go, but I’m so excited about the possibilities.

(Text: Terrified of his actions hurting his family. UNSTABLE!!!)

#lmk #lego monkie kid #speck rambles #lmk analysis #lmk mk #monkie kid #lmk qi xiaotian #My analysis isn't perfect but i agree that most of the fandom paints Mk as this dumb overly trusting kid #when hes closer to a painfully optimistic adult who falls on bad coping mechanisms such as naivety and avoidance #He's smart yall. He can learn and adapt faster than most people in the show #He just has big emotions that pass off as childish moments and as a neurodivergent person I can relate too strongly ... anyways

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shizuturnspages · 20 days ago

Note

hi!! if ur requests are open can be i have a yandere Xiao and kinich or ororon (I'm so indecisive so uhh choose one u think fit most) with a darling who's not from Teyvat? just say they're from another world and doesn't know how Teyvat works! optional but if u want can u make the darling use another name so they just hide their real names like the traveler? tysm!! love ur writings!

Oh, requests for an outsider darling? Hell yes—throwing a clueless darling into Teyvat is like tossing a spark into dry brush. This is such a fascinating idea. Dw about being indecisive. I'll write for all three.

Xiao: The Haunted Protector

Xiao’s attachment starts as reluctant guardianship. You’re so painfully out of place in Teyvat—every move you make screams, “I don’t belong here,” and it tugs at something deep in him. He’s already burdened by his karmic debt, but the thought of leaving you defenseless in a world you barely understand? Unthinkable.

❥ Overwhelming Vigilance: Xiao’s always nearby, even when you don’t know it. You might think you’re safe exploring Liyue, but every Hilichurl you scare off or trap you narrowly avoid? Yeah, that’s Xiao, silently taking out threats before they reach you. And if you wander somewhere truly dangerous? He’ll materialize in front of you, golden eyes blazing with frustration. “What were you thinking? You don’t belong here—it’s not safe.”

❥ Fixation on Your Name: You’ve introduced yourself with a fake name, and Xiao knows it. He doesn’t ask outright, but he obsesses over the mystery of your true identity. Why are you hiding it? Is it shame? Fear? Whenever he’s alone, he finds himself whispering the name you’ve given him, hoping it’ll somehow unravel your secrets.

❥ Territorial Devotion: Xiao can’t stand seeing you bond with others. It’s not jealousy—it’s fear. What if they manipulate your naivety? What if they steal you away from him? He becomes cold and distant whenever you get close to someone, warning you cryptically about trusting others. “People here will lie to you,” he’ll say, his voice sharp but tinged with worry.

How He Snaps: If you ever try to leave Teyvat, Xiao won’t let you go. He’ll argue, beg, and even threaten to bind you to this world with Adeptus magic. “You don’t understand the dangers out there. You’re safer here—with me.” And when he says “with me,” it’s clear he means forever.

Kinich: The Calculating Schemer

Kinich is not the kind of yandere to burst into a room and immediately start causing a scene. He’s a master manipulator who knows how to play the long game. With Ajaw by his side, he’s even more dangerous. His cool, collected demeanor hides a mind that’s always working, always planning.

❥ Patient Manipulation: Kinich’s patience is his greatest weapon. He’ll let you get used to his presence in your life, slowly drawing you in with his charisma and calculated charm. He’s aware that your trust is the key to getting closer to you, so he’ll wait for that moment when you can’t imagine your life without him. “You’re fascinating. I want to know everything about you… all in good time.”

❥ Ajaw’s Influence: Ajaw is not a typical partner for Kinich. Where Kinich is cool-headed and manipulative, Ajaw is impulsive, fiery, and more than willing to be the muscle to back up his companion’s plans. Kinich has carefully cultivated Ajaw’s loyalty, using the power and strength of the Ajaw to keep others in line. Ajaw, for his part, is drawn to Kinich’s vision and power, willingly carrying out orders that Kinich knows will push you closer into his grasp.

❥ The Steady Hand of Control: In terms of the relationship with you, Kinich knows that the best way to control you is to make you believe you have free will. He’ll approach you with an offer, something that seems like it’s your choice to accept. “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps you should stay close to me for a while… we could work together. I can offer you things no one else can.” It’s never truly a question—he’s just making sure you think it is.

How He Snaps: If he feels like he’s losing you—whether to another person or your desire to leave Teyvat—Kinich’s sunny charm darkens. He’ll corner you, his usual smile replaced by a steely intensity. “You think you can just walk away? From me? You’re mine, [Fake Name]. You always have been.”

Ororon: The Brooding Warrior

Ororon’s attachment to you is rooted in a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. You’re so alien to him, so out of place, and yet you’ve managed to survive in Teyvat. It frustrates and fascinates him in equal measure.

❥ Overbearing Protection: Ororon doesn’t trust anyone—not you, not the people around you, and especially not himself. His way of protecting you is blunt and harsh, often scolding you for your ignorance. “How are you still alive?” he’ll growl after pulling you out of yet another dangerous situation. But his rough words betray his concern.

❥ Guard Dog Behavior: Ororon doesn’t care if you’re stronger than him. He still insists on watching your back, even if it means standing in your shadow while you fend off enemies. And if someone so much as looks at you wrong? He’s ready to fight, glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach.

❥ Fixation on Your Mystery: Your otherworldly origins and fake name are a constant source of frustration for him. He doesn’t pry—he’s not the type—but his eyes narrow whenever you dodge his questions. “You’re hiding something,” he’ll say bluntly, his voice low and gruff. “I don’t care what it is, but don’t think you can fool me.”

How He Snaps: Ororon’s breaking point comes when you try to push him away. His voice rises, uncharacteristically emotional. “You think you can survive without me? You barely understand this world. Don’t be stupid—I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” And in his mind, that’s the truth. You need him, whether you realize it or not.

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lonelyharmonies · 1 year ago

Text

all is fair in love and war

when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.

pairing: haechan x fem reader genre: fluff; college!au; (sort of) coworkers! warnings: suggestive; cursing; and i think that’s it. word count: ~19k a/n.: another repost <3 i love this one very much

"How's the job search?" your roommate asks while putting her earrings on.

Another week of failed attempts of looking for an internship, you think. Maybe you weren’t in your right mind when you decided to quit your job of 2 years at the campu’s café, but it was time for you to start looking for jobs related to your field of study. You want to become a journalist, you need real experience! Did you quit after impulsively screaming at your annoying boss because you were fed up with his rudeness? Yes, but you were unhappy and senior year is getting closer by the minute, you have no time to waste. At first, your parents and friends supported you, but after almost two months of unemployment, you were starting to question your own decision.

"Nothing yet." you mumble, playing a game on your phone.

"Have you thought about what Renjun said?" she turns her head to look at you expectantly.

"We've already discussed this," you sigh and she turns her head back to the mirror in front of her. "If it was only for the money, I could just go back to 7Dream,” you stubbornly answer.

“And you think they’ll take you back?” your roommate raises an eyebrow at you “I know it’s not the best choice, but listen to Renjun this time. At least it would be something.”

Huang Renjun, your roommate’s boyfriend, is a fairly rich art major and, in your eyes, a very sophisticated person. At least one of the most sophisticated people you know. The only one, actually. But as he comes from such an influential family, you thought he would be able to find you a job at a good newspaper or a famous magazine. You had to ask him for a job recommendation because, hell, if you’re friends with a nepo baby, take advantage of them.

Needless to say you were not expecting to be offered a part-time position at a beaten-up theme park in the city. You obviously declined, being too stubborn to go from one underpaid job that made you miserable to another.

You did accept, however, the invitation to his friend's birthday party. Free food, free alcohol and some socializing, you couldn’t say no to that. That’s how you end up in an overcrowded apartment in the downtown area of the city to celebrate the birthday of Renjun’s friend that you have never seen before.

As soon as you got there, you were introduced to the birthday boy, Lee Jeno, before being ditched by your roommate and her boyfriend. Deciding that it was too awkward to just stand in the kitchen by yourself, you are left with no choice but to choose your drink: cheap vodka with cranberry juice or cheap canned beer? Hard choice.

Your eyes were scanning the alcoholic drinks shoved in the kitchen sink when you felt someone standing right next to you. You cursed silently, too tired to deal with drunk men flirting tonight. You decided to grab a beer and get out of the kitchen as fast as possible, when the person next to you spoke.

"These ones in the sink are always hotter than the ones in the fridge no matter how much ice they put in there," you turn your head to meet the person next to you, beer in your left hand. "If I were you, I wouldn't grab the drinks from there."

"So I should just stay thirsty?" you ask ironically, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you should grab a drink from the fridge," the brown haired boy smirks and goes straight to the kitchen's fridge.

He grabbed an expensive Japanese beer from inside and placed it on the counter between the both of you. Your eyebrow is raised and the boy still has a smirk on his lips. He motions his head towards the bottle, silently telling you to take it.

"How do I know you didn't spike this drink?"

"How do you know the one you just grabbed isn't spiked?" he challenges you, tilting his head to the side.

"Isn't it a little impolite of you to just open someone's fridge? Especially to grab an expensive drink to give to a stranger?" The beer is long forgotten when you cross your arms and see the boy moving one step closer to you.

"If the stranger is cute it’s fine," he shrugs and you raise an eyebrow, clearly not falling for his attempts at flirting. "Plus, I bought these,” he points at the bottle he put on the counter “And the birthday boy is my best friend and roommate."

Oh, boy, he was bold and you didn’t even need to wonder why: if you looked that hot only in a pair of jeans and a simple Adidas shirt, you would be brazen too.

"Hm, I believe you," you puckered your lips and looked around the kitchen as if uninterested.

"I'm serious, we've known each other since we were little, I’ve seen Jeno butt naked thousands of times," he blurted out and you stifled your laugh.

"That's…" you can't really find the words to answer whatever that information meant. “I…I have no words.”

"What? We barely talked and I'm already leaving you speechless?" he got one step closer and you had resist the urge to move away. "Damn, I didn't know I was this good."

"You think you're smooth, but you were just spilling nonsense," you uncrossed your arms and moved to hold the cold bottle of beer he got for you.

"And yet you're still here listening," he moved one step closer, and this time you could even see the small moles spread across his face and neck.

"I find you really, really annoying," the smile on your face contrasted with the words leaving your lips.

"I get that a lot." He chuckled and you moved a little bit closer and felt him holding his breath.

"Yeah. We need to do something to shut your mouth for a bit, don’t we?" you were looking straight at his lips and he didn't waste much time, kissing you right after.

You find yourself in a very complicated situation the following day when the alcohol wears off of your system and it seems like you remember every little detail of that party, except the name of the boy who kissed you all night long.

You don’t really have much time to dwell on the boy’s name because you find yourself getting more desperate thanks to your financial situation, so all Renjun had to do was mention the job one more time.

“The Lee family is very influential in the entertainment business, you know? I’m sure they will transform that place in no time.” He said one night.

“I bet,” you answered uninterested, eating the soup your roommate had made you.

“It’s a way of having some income while looking for internships,” he reasoned “you can always quit when you find something better.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you sigh defeated “What number should I call?”

Fast forward to three months later: you are working in the job you’ve sworn you wouldn’t take.

That’s the story of how you became a ride operator at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation last April. It is a very big name for a park that small, though, you have to admit. The Funfair is just as nonsensical as the name, but it’s not the most unpleasant workplace. Plus, you found out it’s a very traditional theme park in the area, the neighbors say it has been around since the 70s (considering how old everything looks, you don’t doubt it). It is like the city’s Disneyland, just dirtier. And smaller. And uglier. And unsafer. But it’s just like the city’s Disneyland. I mean, there’s even a mascot: the brown bear named Sunny who seemed to be fairly popular among children.

"How do these kids seem to like Sunny so much? He’s creepy,” you think out loud chewing the jelly Jisung just gave you.

“He’s like our Mickey Mouse,” Jisung turns his head to look at the bear as well.

“But Mickey is not that creepy.”

“Have you seen him in the 50’s? Girl…”

"Who are you talking about?" Yuta, one of the managers, creeps behind you and your friend.

"Hyung, that’s not cool!” Jisung jumps as he gets startled by Yuta’s sudden presence and you can’t help smiling at how much of a scaredy-cat he is.

“Mickey Mouse” you say, stealing another Jelly from Jisung. “Who do you think is creepier, Mickey or Sunny?”

In the beginning you were still very reluctant to accept that it was a good idea to take up Renjun’s offer (and your only choice). But the thing is that you need the money and the job is so much easier than working at the café, considering the Funfair is slow basically every single day. So, you adapted to the Funfair in no time and, slowly, started to see how fun it can be to work in a place like that. You have to admit that the job in itself is usually boring, but the people here are the highlight of it all.

“Sunny’s not that creepy,” Jisung says, making you scoff.

“No, it’s just an old ass costume of an ugly bear wearing a blue overall. Why do kids like it?” You say looking at the semicircle of children cornering the bear near the merry-go-round.

“Who’s Mickey Mouse, though?” Yuta asks you and Jisung.

“Are you kidding me? The Disney rat, hyung,” Jisung looks mildly offended at Yuta’s question.

“He’s not a rat, he’s a mouse. It’s literally his name,” you say, faking interest just to steal one more jelly from Jisung’s bag of candy.

“Never heard of this Mickey guy,” Yuta says with a poker face and you snicker.

"You don't know… Mickey Mouse?" You think Jisung’s face is priceless. Oh, the ever so sweet and gullible Park Jisung.

"Where is he from?'' he asks again, leaving Jisung even more confused.

“Hm… Hollywood? I don’t know where he’s from,” Jisung fishes for his phone and you are sure he is about to google ‘where is mickey mouse from’.

“Oh, I’m from Osaka. That’s probably why we never met.” Yuta finishes talking and walks away, leaving a bewildered Jisung behind.

“I don’t know what to do with this information,” you start feeling bad for him, the boy just looks utterly confused. “He’s joking right? They do have Mickey Mouse in Japan, right?”

“Yes, Jisung he is joking,” you pat his shoulder, but he seems hesitant. “He’s messing with you because you're literally the only one that still believes in any absurdity that comes out of Yuta’s mouth.”

“It makes me kinda relieved, I'm not gonna lie,” he sighs and you just chuckle. Why are your coworkers so dramatic? “I mean, it’s Mickey Mouse. Everybody likes Mickey Mouse."

“I don’t know about that…” your eyes go back to the weird bear as he starts moving around, now having Taeyong as a bodyguard to protect him from the kids jumping at him. "Wait, I think this is the first time I see someone actually dressing up as Sunny. Is it a new thing now?”

"I don't know, it's my first time seeing it too," Jisung frowns "Should I ask Mina?" you shrug. It didn't really matter, it's just that, working in such an uneventful workplace, anything could be something.

"I think you should start running if you don't want Doyoung beating your ass up," you say leaning on the railing of the bumper cars.

Jisung turns to look at his back and sees an angry Doyoung coming for him. "Shit."

"PARK JISUNG, DON'T EVEN TRY TO RUN."

"Serves you right for purposely shutting down the merry-go-round."

"If you had to stay there, you would understand the stress I go through," he says, handing you his bag of candy and running away from Doyoung.

So much for an uneventful workplace.

After you started working at the theme park, you had less time for parties and pubs and even dates. It was hard to fit in any social interaction in your now tight schedule: your shifts were usually 4 to 10 p.m on weekdays and 6 to 12 a.m on weekends. You never had time to go out to drink with your friends, unless they agreed to go clubbing on Monday. Damn, you didn’t want to go to a club on Monday, you had morning classes.

Juggling your job, your degree and your social life was not easy, and you started realizing that you couldn’t catch up with some of your friends and, eventually, they just stopped inviting you to hang out. Inevitably, you have to start hanging out with your coworkers and that leads you to Jisung’s dorm, a round of cheap beer, spicy snacks and a game of truth or dare in the crack of dawn on a Saturday. You, Jisung, Chenle, Yeri and Mina were all sitting in a circle looking at the bottle that was about to stop.

Bottom asks, top answers.

“Truth or dare, Mina?” Chenle asks mischievously and she whines.

“I don’t want Chenle!!! Please, someone else ask me”

“He got the bottom of the bottle, though,” Jisung smiles apologetically.

“Okay, truth.”

“Is it true that in middle school you had a crush on Jis-”

“DARE!!!! I WANT DARE!” she stands up on her knees, profusely shaking her arms so Chenle would stop talking.

Funfair might not be too amusing for the customers, but the whole workplace drama is absolutely entertaining to you. Yeri’s family owns the property where the theme park is located, so she (forcefully) works there to help her cousin Taeyong run the place (though she rarely does any actual work). There is an ongoing rumor that, since last year, she was in a love triangle with Taeyong’s accountant, Suh Johnny, and a mysterious guy named Lee. No one knows exactly who the Lee guy is and what happened between them. Chenle says he’s not brave enough to ask, but he thinks “Lee” is the last name of the guy, which also makes it weird because it could be another one of Taeyong’s relatives.

Taeyong is the sweet boss in charge of all of us, including the managers Yuta and Doyoung, although there has always been a suspicion that the latter is his (boy)friend.

Chenle, Jisung and Mina are freshmen that have been friends since elementary school and decided to work together at Funfair because it was their go-to spot to skip classes ever since they were little. You’re sure they chose the park, though, because they wouldn't be allowed to work together in any other environment, they are all just a bunch of kids. Chenle is that outgoing and kind person yet a menace, especially when it comes to Mina, Jisung and their painfully obvious crush on each other.

After some hair pulling (Mina got really angry after Chenle tried to make her confess to Jisung) and the last rounds of truth or dare, everyone starts to get sleepy.

“Alright, guys, I think it’s time to go home…” you stand up, but Mina holds your arm to stop you.

“Wait, before we all go, did you guys know about the new part-timer that got hired?” Chenle perks up and Jisung lifts his body from where is laying on the ground to look at Mina.

“What guy?”

“Another part-timer? I thought Taeyong was on a budget considering how slow the business has been since… forever,” you say truthfully and Chenle’s eyes widen .

“Do you think the Funfair is some sort of money laundering scheme?”

“I don’t think Taeyong would be driving that old ass car if he had a choice,” Jisung says, and you gasp.

“That’s mean, he’s always giving you rides!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Yeri asks, coming back from the bathroom “New part-timer? Oh, you’re talking about Donghyuck.”

You frown, feeling that you know that name, and yet can’t give a face to that name. Do you know anyone named Donghyuck?

“Do you know him?!” Mina exclaims a little too excited for Jisung’s liking, who scoffs.

“Yeah, I asked Taeyong if we could hire him,” she says sheepishly and you and Chenle exchange confused looks “What about him, though?”

“I was just curious,” Mina answers. “I saw this cute boy two days ago near the breakroom and he said ‘hi, I’m the new guy Donghyuck’ and then, never again.”

“Why are you so curious? Do you wanna see him that bad?” Jisung asks, clearly bothered and the three of you roll your eyes at the sight of a blushing Mina.

“It’s not like that…” she scratches her head “It’s just that I never saw him again. Where is he even working?”

“I think Taeyong put him in the ticket booth or something,” Yeri brushes the girl’s concern off and just grabs her bag.

“No way, I was in the popcorn stall near the entrance today and I haven’t seen him at all,” Mina affirms with wide eyes.

Yeri, tired of all of you and the workplace gossip, just brushes it off by shrugging and wishing everybody a goodnight before leaving Jisung’s dorm.

"What do you guys think of Sunny?" you suddenly ask and your friends make a confused face. "Sunny, the bear, guys."

"Creepy" Chenle says without second thoughts

"Not you again with the mascot rivalry. Be proud of our Mickey," Jisung points at you, making you roll your eyes.

"It's weird looking, but it's a very fun mascot," Mina says, drinking the remaining soju in Jisung's bottle.

"Not like that, guys." You apologize, starting to feel drowsy. "I should've worded it better."

"Are you already drunk?" Chenle scoffs and Mina motions to kick his legs.

"I meant,” you say louder, glaring at Chenle. “What if the new guy is Sunny?"

"It's plausible considering Mina hasn’t seen him again. Or any of us, really."

"Bear or not, I think he's Yeri's boyfriend." Jisung says as a matter of factly.

"His name is not Lee, though." Mina points out. "Plus, I'm team Johnny."

"You're all so nosy," you make a judging face at them, but giggle right after "I like it."

The four of you there stay there in Jisung's dorm for a couple more hours, conspiring about who was the new part-timer, what he was doing there and creating what had the potential to be the new hot gossip of Sunny's Funfair.

"I can't believe you're here again," you roll your eyes when you see Jisung standing next to the control panel for the bumper cars.

"Change places with me one day, that's all I ask!" he pleads and you turn away to pay attention to the cars that had just started to move around.

"Go to work, Jisung. I don't know why Taeyong hasn't fired you yet."

"Because he knows I'm a valuable addition to the team.” He fights back, making you scoff.

"Nah, it's probably because he has noticed that the high school girls keep coming back to flirt with you." You glare at him when you see him blushing. “Stop with this act, we all know you love it because it makes Mina jealous.”

“What’s with you today, woman?” he raises his hand defensively “I’m just keeping you company.”

“You should be at the merry-go-around. Working.”

“That’s why I always go to Mina,” he complains. “She always talks to me.”

“It’s because she doesn’t like working either,” you say harshly.

It’s Sunday and the park is fairly busier than usual, you think. Not enough to make children line up on the bumper cars, but busy enough to keep running it every three minutes. Suddenly, a stereotypical carnival music starts playing, startling both you and Jisung, who never really noticed there were speakers spread throughout the park. Then, you see Sunny happily walking around greeting small children and their parents.

“What the fuck is this?” you spit out and look at Jisung who has the same dumbfounded expression as you.

“Our Mickey Mouse is here,” Jisung laughs and you keep staring at the scene in front of you.

“I swear to god if they put this song in a loop I’ll k-”

“Where’s Mickey?” a little girl wearing a Disney t-shirt smiles at the both of you. “I like Mickey Mouse!"

“If you like Mickey so much, where is he from?” Jisung asks and you roll your eyes, going back to the control panel to see how much longer until this round is up.

“Well, I don’t know…” her smile falters and Jisung holds a finger up in the air while saying.

“Well, you can only ride the bumper cars if you know where Mickey Mouse is from-”

“But… I…” you see the girl’s eyes watering and you punch Jisung’s arm

“No, you don’t,” you say, giving him the stink eye. “But you do need to be old enough to ride it by yourself. How old are you?

“I just turned eight,” she smiles confidently with both hands on her hips.

“Sorry, sweetie, if you are under 12 you need adult supervision,” she deflates so fast that you almost feel bad for her.

“Can’t he go with me?” she points at Jisung and you scoff.

“He can barely supervise himself,” you smile at her. “Plus, there is no one else to ride the bumper cars, you would be all alone.”

The little girl tries to persuade you to let her go but you can’t. You could bend the rules a little and supervise her in the car, letting Jisung in the control panel, but you didn’t trust Jisung that much. Plus it wasn’t worth it getting in trouble because of a cute little girl. Eventually, you convince her to go talk to the creepy bear, saying he was friends with Mickey Mouse, and she runs to where he is standing.

“By the way, Mickey Mouse is from Mouseton in Calisota,” Jisung says looking at his phone and you groan.

After months working in the same place, with the same people, you are bound to get into a routine. Yours consisted of arriving at the Funfair around 3:50 pm, going to the break room, filling your water bottle, putting your backpack in locker 606 and putting your lunch box with some packed dinner in the fridge.

Any minor change in this calculated routine could mean something big.

That’s why you are surprised to arrive one day and see a black insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You were used to see Mina’s green tupperware, Chenle’s half-eaten subway and Yuta’s energy drinks inside the fridge. You were not used to see an insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You brushed it off as someone changing habits and bringing healthier food to work. It could even be Taeyong packing food for him and Doyoung.

You should have taken that more seriously, though, because the second change in your routine was much bigger and much more inconvenient than the lunch bag.

The next day, the lunch bag disappeared, but now, there was a backpack in your locker. It wasn’t that the locker is specifically yours per se, but there is a silent agreement of which locker belongs to whom. There are 9 lockers in total, Jisung and Mina’s are 607 and 604, the top left one and the one right under it. Chenle takes 608 and Yeri takes the one next to yours, 605. The only available lockers, then, are the 609, top one on the right, and the 3 lockers at the bottom, that are rarely used. 606 is an unavailable locker and yet, one day you get there, slightly late, and you see it occupied by a backpack that’s not yours — and locked.

Differently from the lunch box, the locker issue does not go away. In fact, no matter how early you get there, every other day there is a black backpack locked inside the 606. You aren't tall enough to reach 609, forcing you to use one of the lockers at the bottom. Everytime you try to crouch down to get something from your bag, you curse at the person who’s using your locker.

The last change to the quiet routine you led at Funfair was Sunny, the bear. In three months working there, last week was the first time you started to actually see it walking around. Of course, during your training, Taeyong made sure to give you a very detailed explanation of the origins of Sunny and even let you see the bear costume. Seeing someone wearing it, though, was something completely different. Considering the near-bankrupt financial situation Funfair has been suffering for a while, it is normal that the park is understaffed (and not a real problem because there aren’t many customers, anyways). But, with some many improvements to be done, why did Taeyong decide to hire someone to give life to that creepy looking bear? No one besides Taeyong seemed to care about Sunny’s presence, why is it around now?

You are too focused on your own thoughts to pay attention to Mina and Jisung entering the breakroom. They seem excited about something and trying to speak at the same time.

“Shut up, Jisung, I will tell everybody!” she squeals and Jisung mumbles something along the line ‘I barely breathed’. “Where’s Chenle? I have bombastic news.”

“He texted the group chat saying he will be late,” you answer unamused.

“Girl, cheer up, I have hot gossip.” You hum, more interested in your sandwich than the gossip.

“We saw the new guy enter Yeri’s car yesterday after work.” Jisung blurts out and Mina slaps his shoulder. “What? Someone can appear in the breakroom any minute.”

“We already know she knows him. Taeyong hired him because of her, remember?” You bite your sandwich and see Jisung deflates, agreeing that it wasn’t the big deal he was thinking.

“Well, she didn’t say that his last name was Lee,” she whispers the last word, making you and Jisung snap your heads to her direction.

“You didn’t tell me-”

“Doyoung told Yuta who told me that the name of the guy is Lee Donghyuck and he works part-time here every other day. That’s why we don’t see him that much.”she says, pulling a chair for Jisung to sit on.

“Do you think he is the Lee in the love triangle?” Jisung whispers, fishing for his phone. “Oh, Chenle’s gonna love this.”

“Have you guys seen this Donghyuck in the breakroom, yet?” you ask, looking at the lockers. “Or coming to work, at least?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think he is the one using my locker?” They look at you confused. “I usually see it locked with a black backpack inside.”

“Well, he works every other day,” Mina starts “I don’t think it’s him, you’re here everyday.”

“Who would do that, though? The managers use Taeyong’s office. I’m sure it’s him. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Jisung reasons, making you glare at him.

“He stole my locker!” you fight back making them shake their heads at you.

Two whole weeks have passed and everybody but you have met the locker thief. It's not that you are obsessed with knowing who the hell this Lee Donghyuck is, especially not after Mina tells you in secret that he is very funny and very hot (and begged you not to tell Jisung that). You are curious to meet the one who is behind the creepy bear that makes children laugh and forces all of you to listen to circus music (Taeyong said it is a new tactic so people can associate the song to Sunny and they will know when he is around. You don’t care, you just hate both the bear and the song).

It is on a Friday evening that you understand why people say “curiosity killed the cat”. You are sent to help Mina in the food stalls because Jisung, being the annoying brat he is, ended up breaking the merry-go-round thanks to his habit of shutting it off to avoid the children. When one of the rides breaks down, it means sending someone to help with the food stalls, but Taeyong knew that between sending Jisung or a lamppost to work with Mina, the lamppost would be more useful. That’s why Jisung is at the bumper cars right now and you are stuck in the food stall, with your hair and clothes smelling like butter and old popcorn.

"Hey, what's broken today?" she asks, leaning her arms on the counter and bending her body forward.

"The merry-go-round," you roll your eyes. "I bet it's Jisung’s fault for shutting it down on purpose at least three times per shift to avoid the little children."

“I thought they would send you to the haunted house to give Doyoung a break, though.” She hands you wet wipes so you can help her clean the counter.

“Nah, Doyoung has too much fun scaring away the horny teenangers trying to have sex and use drugs in there.”

"Aw, at least you're here with me today!" she smiles and you give her an unamused smile. "I'll be nice, I know you hate the smell, so I’ll stay here and you can do the stocking tonight!"

Your problem is being a little naive around your friends. Sure, the popcorn smell was bad, but you didn't know that stocking the stalls would mean walking around, back and forth, carrying paper bags, corn bags, cans of soda and even organizing the pantry's shelves. You also didn’t know the stockroom is basically all the way across the park.

"Who knew we sold that much soda here." You murmur after your 5th trip to the pantry to restock soda.

"It's not that we sell a lot, it's just that this mini fridge is too small."

"Yeah, I noticed," you narrow your eyes at your friend who just laughs and talks to a new customer.

After a couple of hours, things start to get slower at the stall, so you have time to organize and store everything in their right place. You were definitely not used to this kind of job, just staying behind the scenes, not dealing with annoying adults and small children, but you seem to enjoy it. You pull out your phone and plug your earphones to listen to some music to pass time. The stockroom was a container that stayed behind the ferris wheel and the walls of the park didn’t allow people to see it.

The songs coming from your headphones distract you so much that you don't notice someone hiding behind the open door of the container. They opened from outside, so they blocked the view of who was behind it, but the lights from the ferris wheel allowed you to see a weirdly shaped shadow. You get closer and jump at the sight of the Sunny, the bear too close to your face.

"What the fuck?" you hear him say and you get so startled that you end up pushing it, almost making it fall on the ground.

"I should be the one saying that, dude," you answer, holding the stack of popcorn bags close to you. "What are you doing here?”

"Hiding," you can faintly hear the person's voice through the gigantic head of the costume.

"What?"

"I'm hiding from the kids," the bear points to your left, the direction of the park. "There is a little kid today that is just obsessed with kicking my ankle."

You laugh at that and go back inside the stockroom to put the popcorn bags in their place. The bear stays outside and you wonder if this is your chance of finally seeing the mysterious not-so-new guy that has been the hot topic for a while.

"Hey," you lean on the door's frame, calling the bear's attention to you "How long have you been working here?"

"Since the 90's, or something like the story Taeyong told me." you laugh at that, hearing the bear chuckle as well. "I started some weeks ago. Why?"

"I was just wondering, because I’m seeing Sunny around too often," you shrug. "You’re the new guy Donghyuck, right?"

"You have a lot of questions, I see," you hear the teasing tone and just roll your eyes. “Flirty, much? Can’t resist the bear’s charm?”

"I hope you can't see shit with this big ass head in this terrible lighting, and end up falling."

"HEY! I was just kidding, don't be mean," he moves a little bit closer to you.

“You are very good at being vague and changing the topic, mister Sunny, the bear.”

“What can I say, I like being mysterious,” with the silence between both of you, you can hear Taeyong cursing, which is very unusual of him. "Shit, I think I hear Taeyong."

"Are you afraid of getting fired?"

"No, I'm afraid he's gonna make me work," he answers and you can't help but laugh, calling Taeyong's attention to you and the bear.

Ever since that shift, you started getting somewhat closer to Sunny, who you are sure is the Lee Donghyuck, even though he didn’t confirm it. You still haven't got the chance to see him without the costume and your interactions are always short, but there is something so familiar about him…

It is also very fun to see Sunny interacting with the staff. Sometimes, he walks past the food stall and shakes Mina's hand, or hi-five Chenle when he passes by the spinning cups. But your favorite thing is when he stays next to the merry-go-around, right across the bumper cars, and throws flying kisses in your direction. It feels like Donghyuck is showing a little bit of his personality through Sunny and you have to admit that the guy is pretty nice to be around. And just like that, what was once a very creepy looking bear that you avoided at all costs, becomes a very creepy looking bear that you expect to see during your shifts.

Today, Donghyuck decided to walk past the bumper cars and make a “call me” sign, right after sending you hearts and dancing with little kids. You try not to pay much attention to him, but it’s cute how he never forgets to interact with everybody around him and doesn’t leave until he makes his coworkers smile at least for a few seconds.

There is a particular child giving him a hard time, though. You see the little boy, probably ten, trying to take the bear's head at all costs. It tried climbing on Donghyuck, pulled his arms and even kicked his ankle once. There was usually someone to keep him company to avoid annoying kids like those. Where is Taeyong?

"Hey," you see a girl getting out of the bumper cars all by herself. "You, pigtail." The girl seems tall and strong enough to win a fight, you think . "I'll give you five bucks if you push that boy over there."

"Make it ten and I'll pull his hair too," she opens her hands, motioning you to give her money.

Eventually, Taeyong ends up putting you in trash duty for three days after finding out that you "incited" a fight in a family friendly environment, even though you will deny it forever. You don't mind it too much, because it allows you to walk around the park and talk to everybody, and whenever Sunny is around, you can get a little bit closer while he sends you flying kisses.

You don't know why, but having that huge weird-looking bear around has definitely made working here better.

"Well, I have some news," Taeyong says, calling everyone's attention. "We will be shutting down the haunted house, the merry-go-round and the spinning cup."

You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Although you were all expecting that summer break would be a game changer for the business, only a miracle could save the Funfair. To be fair, Taeyong had managed to improve a couple of things here and there: he repainted the front of the park, fixed the broken trash cans and even hired Renjun to make a nice mural at the front (which was really nice for marketing, because teenagers love to take pictures there). There was a general feeling that the business was changing and the summer was a breath of fresh air to everybody, but the summer break wasn’t as miraculous as your hopeful and young minds thought.

"Why the spinning cups? They were fine though," Chenle pouts and Taeyong just shakes his head.

"I know you like it there, Lele, but a third of the cups aren't spinning properly and there are just so many vomits I can clean up in a day," he sighs and you feel the tense atmosphere in the air.

“We should have shut down the haunted house a long time ago, in my opinion,” Yeri says, eating a lollipop. “I don’t know how Doyoung endured horny teenangers trying to have sex in there for so long.”

“It was nice staying inside to scare them away,” he shrugged.

“I bet the merry-go-round is Jisung’s fault though,” you say, provoking Jisung, who sticks his tongue out.

“Actually, the engine is heating up so, if anything, Jisung shutting it off every now and then actually helped.” Yuta says besides Taeyong, leaning on the lockers.

“Okay, let’s stop,” he says, visibly stressed. “This is a report, it’s not open for comments, everyone.”

“But, I have ques-”

“Shut up.”

"I know you are all wondering what's going to happen, but don't worry, we got this!” Taeyong starts speaking again, expecting us to be silent. “I have reorganized everybody’s positions: Jisung will take the bumper cars. Y/N and Chenle can decide who will take the ferris wheel and the roller coaster, I just can’t have Jisung on neither because I don’t trust him with the safety procedures. No offense, Jisung."

“None taken, hyung,” he says, eating a lollipop.

“We don’t have experience in those rides, it was usually the more experienced staff who took care of it,” you raise your hand, worried.

“It’s okay, we’ll train you.”

“What about Doyoung hyung and Yuta hyung?” Chenle asks worriedly.

“Kids, don’t worry about anything else, alright?” Taeyong smiles reassuringly, ending the meeting and sending everybody home.

A week after the sudden change of positions, everything was running smoothly. Doyoung and Yuta helped you and Chenle and for the first three days, teaching you how to control the rides and slowly letting you do it by yourselves. Despite everything looking almost the same as usual, you couldn’t shake the weird feeling out of your chest. Why did Taeyong suddenly shut down part of the park? It’s not as if there is much of it left anyways. He didn't say much about Yuta and Doyoung after they stopped training us. Did they get fired? You haven’t seen Sunny in a while. Did Taeyong fire Donghyuck too? Will you be next?

The prospect of getting fired makes you realize you haven't really worried about looking for a good internship in a while. You can’t really blame yourself for getting tired of it after the countless no’s. And, honestly, you were comfortable working for Taeyong. Sure, the pay wasn’t great, but the job isn’t demanding and your boss is not pressuring you to do anything more than come to work, press a few buttons, make sure no one gets into an accident, and go home. But your parents had already started to worry about your career, thinking your job at the theme park wasn’t as temporary as they thought it would be. You think it’s time for you to start worrying about it too, so you decide that as soon as the summer break is over, you must find somewhere else to work.

Even though you know you need to find another job, a tiny little part of your heart hurts at the thought of leaving everyone behind. Would you be able to find such nice and welcoming people anywhere else? You realize your mind has wandered for too long when you see brown paws shaking in front of your face.

"A penny for your thoughts?" you hear Donghyuck’s voice and smile.

"Sunny does not use human language to communicate. Taeyong will get angry at you," you cross your arms and lean on the railing behind you.

"It's not like there's a lot of people around anyways. The only kid is you" he stands next to you, just looking at the empty park. You slap his arm and he chuckles. "It's almost closing time, I don't know why I'm still wearing this."

"You get more breaks than we do, work for once, please," you joke and hear his sweet laugh muffled by the costume.

"Try walking around with this gigantic stinky head to see if you wouldn't need a break every 30 minutes too." You smile and make your way to the control cabin when you take a look at the time.

“Time to turn off the lights and go home,” you say, pressing a few buttons on the panel.

“I didn’t know they changed your position,” you hear the boy speaking loudly so you can hear him from the cabin. "I found out the hard way.”

“And what is the hard way?” you scream back, starting to get out of the cabin and heading to the stairs.

“I can’t really see from afar with this mask on, you know…” He sighs and you frown at him. “Yeri told me today I had spent the past week sending flying kisses to Jisung and not you.”

You cackle with laughter from the sudden confession. Now it makes sense why you have spent the entire week without seeing a sign of him. You just thought Sunny was one of the things Taeyong was slowly getting rid of.

"You must be completely blind with this head on," you say, walking down the steps and being face to face with the bear. "Can you even see anything now with the lights off?"

"I can figure it out."

You extend your arm, offering it. "C'mon, I'll lead the way."

“The ferris wheel is very far from the breakroom, you know. That’s why I never come here,” he says, locking arms with you.

“Yeah, I know. On the weekend I always have to run if I don’t wanna miss the last bus.”

“Will I have to keep walking all the way down the ferris wheel to see you?”

“Yes,” you laugh wholeheartedly as he groans. You start walking, your arms linked together, and your curiosity perks up. "I have a question," you hear some humming and decide to keep going. "Why have I never seen you, Donghyuck?"

"It’s because I’m not Donghyuck, I’m Sunny, silly!” you scoff and listen to his cheeky laugh.

"You are a little frustrating, you know that? I like it better when you can't speak." you huff, but keep walking towards the exit of the park. "Should I wait for you outside the bathroom to know who you are?"

"Don't be a creep,” he teases, and you slap his arm covered by the costume.

"I just think it’s unfair how you know who I am and I only know your name because Mina loves gossiping around,” you pout and feel a pet in your head.

"You really have no idea who I am?” he scoffs, sounding disappointed and you get confused. “Yeah, didn’t think you would remember me.”

“What are you talking about?” you frown and he just shrugs it off. “Am I supposed to know you?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“Stop it!” you say, slightly frustrated.

“Okay, okay," you hear him chuckling. "I think our schedules are just incompatible.”

“I think you are just ugly and are embarrassed,” you tease and you hear him gasp.

“Holy shit, you’re mean,” he pretends to be offended as you laugh. “But, wait, have you been thinking about me and what I look like?”

You can’t see his face, but the smugness you hear in his voice is enough to annoy you (and make you blush, because… yes, you have.)

“If you don’t stop with the nonsense I’ll leave you to walk alone in the dark,” you warn him, passing by the merry-go-round, reaching the middle of the park.

“I think you are the one who doesn’t want to be alone, honey,” he teases you again, and you motion to unlink your arms but he immediately apologizes. “No, no, sorry, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

You keep walking in a comfortable silence until you decide to speak again “Do you think we’re getting fired?”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s just…” you sigh and Donghyuck starts to slow down your pace. “I mean, we know this business is not flourishing, but I can’t lie, I thought summer break would help. Now with Taeyong shutting down part of the park, summer break is almost over, I don’t know…”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much about that,” he says sincerely and you scoff.

“Yeah, sure,” you keep silent for a little while, but Donghyuck feels you still have some things to get off your chest. “If I get fired before getting an internship I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve already disappointed my parents so many times, and I’m so frustrated with myself. I.. Should I even keep trying to become a journalist? I think I should just ask Renjun to set me up with some rich dude. I don’t think he would, though, He was the one that found me this job when his parents are filthy rich and know basically every businessman in the city.”

“Renjun’s parents are not that rich, they just know a lot of people,” he adds, making you sigh again.

“I wish I knew a lot of people. Actually, I wish I knew the right people. I wouldn’t be here struggling to find an internship if I did.”

“Well, I think you shouldn’t worry too much about this.”

“Yeah, easier said than done. I have been trying to get an internship for, what, six months? I must be really bad because I didn’t even get a single interview.”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much because what is supposed to happen, will happen.” He turns his head to you and tilts it to the right. “Maybe, you won’t find the perfect job you’re looking for right now, but there will be some other opportunities that might help you achieve your goal. Have you ever watched Monsters University?”

“Oh, you are not about to give me advice based on a Pixar movie,” you chuckle and Donghyuck gets defensive.

“Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, you should, because you’re being very Mike Wazowski right now,” you laugh at his comparison, promising him you would see the movie as soon as you got home.

Even after the heartfelt conversation, you haven’t met Donghyuck as himself yet. You don’t know if your schedules really didn’t align or if he was actively avoiding you after you just spilled your worries out of nowhere. You don’t think it was a reasonable option considering he would still go out of his way to greet you at the ferris wheel, even if it meant cutting his break 5 minutes because it took him longer to get to the breakroom.

But you can’t help but feel weird when you hear Yeri and Mina casually talking about Donghyuck's opinion on the drama they are watching together. How did they even get that close? I mean, there was still the theory that he was Yeri’s boyfriend so you guess that made sense, but why wouldn’t he talk to you about the drama too? You could start watching it. Even Chenle seemed to socialize more with Donghyuck outside work than you, as he constantly mentions how they meet up sometime to go to a cybercafe to play games. Why are you the only one that has short interactions with him dressed up as the fucking creepy bear? Plus, there is the constant feeling of familiarity when you’re around him, but you can’t remember from where you might know each other. It was all driving you really, really mad.

“Why are you frowning?” Doyoung asks as you’re sitting down in Taeyong's office, waiting for him.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your face looks like a raisin.”

“Don’t call me raisin!” You raise your voice, getting angrier by the minute. “Do you know Donghyuck?”

Doyoung seems startled by your sudden change of subject. “Of course I do, he works here.”

“Have you met him outside work? Like, in normal clothes, not in a bear costume.”

“Obviously, he’s Jeno’s childhood friend,” he says matter-of-factly. Jeno? You know that name… “Why are you being so-”

“Wait, Jeno? Lee Jeno? As in Huang Renjun’s friend?”

“I don’t know any Huang Renjun, but, yeah, Lee Jeno, he’s like a brother-”

“HOLY SHIT,” you gasp and cover your mouth. “Shit, what the fuck, this is not real.”

“I know you’re off the clock, but it’s sorta rude to curse like that.”

“Doyoung, I know Donghyuck,” you ignore him, standing up and holding his arms with pleading eyes. “I know who Donghyuck is.

“Considering you have been working together for a month or so, that’s… great?” He says cautiously.

“Tell Taeyong I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I have to make a phone call,” You say, grabbing your backpack and bolting out of the room.

As soon as Doyoung mentioned Jeno, everything clicked together.

You remembered the night at the party, when you met that cute guy and you just decided to kiss all night long, chat about the most random things while you get drunk on the expensive Japanese beer he said he bought, but you find out later that it was Jeno’s. You remember talking about your favorite seasons and him telling you you might be meant to be because you love summer and his gaming nickname meant fullsun. You should have recognized him as soon as you heard him tease you for the first time. Damn, he even mentioned Renjun’s parents as if he knew them personally and you didn’t bat an eye. How could you be so stupid?

The first problem is not recognizing him. The second problem is how are you going to face him after taking so long to recognize him. Now you understand why he probably didn’t want you to see him without the costume, imagine how embarrassing it will be for you.

Donghyuck never works two days in a row, so hopefully he won’t be here today, right? Wait, was he here yesterday? You don’t remember. If you don’t remember, he probably wasn’t, so, does that mean you will have to see him today? But maybe it’s just your bad memory. You needed advice about this situation, what would you do from now? You are sprinting to the breakroom, ready to put your things away and call your roommate.

When you get there, you immediately couch down to put your things on the locker, not bothering to look if the 606 locker is available. It hasn’t been ever since Donghyuck started here anyways. As you are having trouble shoving the backpack inside the small locker, you see someone standing behind you, silently opening one of the lockers too.

“Your phone’s on the floor.”

He points out to the bright screen of your phone that has fallen from your hands and is sitting right beside you. You take a glance at the lock screen, seeing Doyoung’s threatening message, and scoff.

[doyoung manager (dangerous)]: If you canceled this meeting to gossip with the other kids, I’ll make Taeyong put you in trash duty for a whole month.

“Honestly, I’m here having a crisis and Doyoung thinks I’m gossiping,” you grumble while still trying to shove the backpack inside “What’s wrong with this locker tod-”

“Do you need help?”

You feel like someone has knocked the air out of your lungs when you see Donghyuck crouched down beside you, wearing a cheeky smile. You fall on your butt and he immediately holds your arms to help you stand back to your original position.

“Do you need help?” he repeats, his head motioning to the lockers and you simply nod. “It can be tricky to fit the whole bag inside these lockers.”

You just nod again, and stand up, letting him put it inside the tiny metal box and close it. “Password?” you look at him confused. “Are you not locking it?”

“No, we never lock it,” you shake your head and gasp. You move a little to the side to see the 606 locker taken, and look back at him angrily. “So it was you this whole time. You stole my locker!”

“I didn’t steal anything, it was there and I took it.”

“It was my perfect little locker, perfect height., perfect size,” you mourn half-jokingly.

“Why don’t you take the other ones?”

He stands up, meeting you face to face and you have to admit that it is a whole new thing to see him in good lighting without his bear costume. He is hotter than you remembered. His hair is also longer and wavy, different from when you first met. Damn you and your thing for boys with long hair.

“They're all taken and I can’t reach the one above yours,” you shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t know you had work today, Haechan.” You use the nickname he told you back at the party and that makes him smile.

“Oh, so now you remember me?” The smugness of his voice makes you shy and he notices it by the way you smile and starts to move away from him.

“Yeah, about that, I should apologize,” you say, sitting down in one of the chairs. “I should have connected the dots as soon as you told me about Renjun’s parents.”

“Oh,” the smug expression on his face dies as he lets out what seemed to be a disappointed sigh.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. “Am I being stupid again?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckles humorlessly as he leans on the lockers and puts his hands inside the pockets of the leather jacket. Be damned the leather jackets, you think. “I thought you were going to apologize for not calling.”

“What?” you let out an airy laugh.

“That night at the party, you said you would call me.”

“I don’t have your number though, how would I call you?” You remember the kissing, and his hands, and his hoarse voice whispering sweet nothings in your ears, but you definitely don’t remember having his number.

Donghyuck takes his hand out of his pocket and stretches it out in front of you, asking for your phone. You give it to him, open it on the keypad, and he gives a few taps before handing it back to you. He didn’t even need to finish typing the whole thing because it was there, on the top of the screen: “Lee Donghyuck” written in bold, with his number right beside it.

You start to think you don’t remember as much from that night as you thought you did. You grunt and he just chuckles.

“At least now I know I wasn’t rejected, you just forgot” he jokes and sits in front of you, who was hiding your face in your hands. “I just don’t know if that’s better or not.”

“I don’t know what happened, I wasn’t that drunk to forget your name and your number.”

“You forgot my name too?” he says half-offended, now understanding why you didn’t recognize him before. “Damn, were you that cock drunk?”

“Now, don’t cross a line, Lee Donghyuck,” you immediately sit up straight, sending him a glare. “We didn’t go that far.”

“Sorry, bad joke,” He lowers his head, avoiding your eyes, “We could’ve.”

“We could have what?”

“If you had called,” he says, leaning his body on the table as he doesn't break eye contact. “We could’ve gone as far as you wanted.”

“WHAT’S UP!” Chenle says loudly as he opens the door abruptly. “What are you guys talking about?”

You use that as your cue to compose yourself from Donghyuck’s very suggestive words, and point at your own ears, giving Chenle a sign that he needs to lower the volume of his earpods.

“Oh, sorry, was I screaming?” he puts his stuff in his locker and sits between you and Donghyuck, painfully unaware of the tension in the air. “What were you guys- Oh, Y/N, you finally met him!”

Donghyuck snaps his head in Chenle’s direction and you start praying he will not say anything that could embarrass you. “You were so jealous that you were the only one that hadn't met him properly yet.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say distressed, stressing your distaste for his choice of words. “It was just weird how-”

“Oh, you so were,” both boys giggled and you rolled your eyes, standing up hastily, making the chair screech. “Please, you got all pouty the day I mentioned we play together.”

“Honey, if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” Donghyuck is clearly having the time of his life with Chenle’s information.

You groan as you leave the breakroom and they keep teasing you. You definitely need better friends.

"Who would have thought that all you had to do to start dating was confessing, right?” Chenle says sarcastically while all of you are hanging out in the breakroom.

“Wait, so you weren’t dating before?” Taeyong asks the couple sitting in front of him.

“No, they were just very much in love and just as oblivious,” you say, munching on the chocolate chip cookie Taeyong baked for the staff today.

"Well, it’s not like that, I was already planning on confessing…" Jisung scratches the back of his head and Chenle scoffs.

"Yeah, since freshman year… of HIGH SCHOOL," and you see Mina blushing when Jisung giggles and kisses her cheek, giving her a silent confirmation that Chenle's statement was nothing but the truth.

"Oh my god, she still blushes at everything he does!" Yeri exclaims and Chenle gags, muttering 'disgusting'.

Apparently, the past weekend has been full of surprises. Taeyong had a “pressing family matter” to attend to, so he decided to close the park and give everybody the Saturday and Sunday off. Probably not the smartest move for a failing business but who are you to complain?

With two days off on the weekend, everybody had their own thing: Yeri went to the beach with her boyfriend (Mina is still Team Johnny, but Jisung and I think he is too tall compared to the silhouette photos Yeri showed us). Chenle went to a basketball game and adopted a dog, out of nowhere. He only shut up about the game to show us Daegal’s pictures which we very much appreciated. Jisung had invited Mina on a picnic date, but she accidentally heard him practicing his confession, which led them to, finally, become boyfriend and girlfriend.

You, well, you had a date with Donghyuck. It was a friendly date, he just asked you out to get some coffee. And have lunch. And you eventually ended up going with him to his friend’s photography exhibition. In your defense, he was very pleasant to be around and it’s always good to be in contact with the arts.

You woke up that Saturday ready to do something fun, but your roommate and her boyfriend already had plans, just like everybody else from work. At first you decided to stay at home and just enjoy your day alone, but then you remembered how long it had been the last time you had a free weekend. Like, the whole weekend. After the whole ordeal with Donghyuck, you became good friends so you thought it wouldn’t hurt if you messaged him to see if he wanted to do something, right? As friends, of course!.

[you - 10:30 a.m]: hey how’s your day off?

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: damn honey

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: not even a whole day

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: miss me already?

[you - 10:30 a.m]: oh fuck off

[you - 10:31 a.m]: i just wanted to know if you had plans

[you - 10:31 a.m]: because i don’t and i’m bored

[donghyuckie - 10:32 a.m]: i can be free

[donghyuckie - 10:32 a.m]: why?

[you - 10:33 a.m]: wanna get some coffee?

[you - 10:33 a.m]: u pay

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: 🙄

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: meet me at 7dream in 10 min

[you - 10:35 a.m]: i need 30 to get ready tho

[donghyuckie - 10:35 a.m]: be there in 10 or you pay

You did your best to look as presentable as possible in record time, only for Donghyuck to arrive at the café twenty minutes later, saying he didn’t think you would take him seriously and would just take your time getting ready. He did apologize for being late and after eating breakfast, he waited as you went back home to look more presentable during lunch.

You see, spending time with Donghyuck was very confusing for you because he always made flirty comments and dirt jokes around you, but never really tried to initiate anything. He was pretty hard to read, in your personal opinion, but it was so fun to have him around and he was always so thoughtful and nice, that you never let useless thoughts fill your mind. And what if you made out once in a party months ago? You didn’t remember his name, you never called and you only met again by chance. You could totally be friends, all the “tension” that you once had, if you ever had it, was water under the bridge!

At least that’s what you thought.

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

It was late, really late. The workers at the diner were probably cursing both of you for getting there as it was about to close, so you just decided to keep drinking your milkshake so you both could leave as fast as possible.

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

“Earth to Y/N,” Mina shakes her hand in front of your face, taking you out of your thoughts.

“OH, sorry, what’s up?”

“What did you do on the weekend?” Yeri asks, and you suddenly feel shy when everybody’s attention is on you. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“No way!” Jisung exclaims and you start to feel your face hotter by the second.

“And just know she was so distracted…” Mina smirks and your eyes widen, shaking your head.

“Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND,” Chenle sing-songs like a nine year-old and the other ones join him.

“It’s not-” you try to speak but they just sing louder, making you sigh in frustration.

“Stop, children,” Taeyong calls their attention and you sigh in relief, thinking he is going to scold them. Your peace doesn’t last long, though. “We don’t know if it’s a boyfriend or a girlfriend!”

They all look at each other before Chenle starts singing again:

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WENT ON A DATE.”

“You are all absolutely insufferable,” you say, standing up and pretending you don’t hear how they keep teasing you about your “date”.

Donghyuck opens the break room door right when you are ready to leave. You stop yourself before your bodies collide and he simply smiles. “What’s going on?”

“Noth-”

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WHEN ON A DATE.” Chenle chants again and you turn your body to face him from across the room.

“Shut up, Chenle! Nobody said it’s true.” You don’t have time to lay a guilt trip on Chenle because Donghyuck beats you to it, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted.

“It’s true, though, you went on a date with me,” Donghyuck says seriously and everybody gasps. He walks towards the lockers and smiles when he sees that you took locker 606 before him today. “We spent the whole Saturday together.”

You see Jisung flabbergasted as he lets out “Oh my god, you’re dating Yeri’s boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Mina elbows him at the same time that Yeri, Taeyong and Donghyuck scream a “What???”

“It was a friendly date, I’M NOT DATING ANYBODY!” You scream the last part, storming off the break room and pretending you don’t hear Donghyuck quietly say ‘yet”.

“So you’re telling me you have a boyfriend and his name is Mark?” Mina confirms the information, still not sounding quite sure of it yet.

“Don’t mind her, she was team Johnny.” Chenle tells Yeri, making her look more confused.

“Team who?” Taeyong just stands there, trying to understand the whole situation. “I have so many questions…”

“And you,” Jisung says, turning to Donghyuck. “Met Y/N months ago at Yeri's boyfriend party, fell in love, but she forgot about you, so you had to get this job as Sunny, the bear to make her fall for you again and remember you?” He finishes, leaving Donghyuck absolutely stunned at the boy’s lack of ability to hold a single information in his brain.

“This is not what I said at all, you literally made up 90% of this story.”

After you stormed out, you went outside some of the opening tasks for today and you were hoping someone would come to help you out soon, but twenty minutes later, only Doyoung appeared, asking where the others were. After not having any answer from you, he calls Taeyong who just says ‘wait 10 more minutes and we’ll have so much to talk about’. He decides to go to the breakroom and see for himself what on earth is going on in the park today, only to find the boss, one of the managers and all the other workers sitting around the table, gossiping.

“She does seem a little silly, I have to admit,” Yuta says nonchalantly.

“She’s worse than Mina and Jisung together, honestly,” Chenle shakes his head, “Dumb as a door.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Doyoung says in a serious tone, startling everybody.

“I told you to wait 10 minutes, Hyuck is about to finish his story,” Taeyong shakes his head, shooing Doyoung away. “Someone needs to be in charge. Go, go, I’ll tell you later.”

“YOU are the one in charge.” Doyoung scoffs, but goes anyway, someone should be helping you.

Donghyuck retells the whole story of how you met and how disappointed he was when you didn’t call. He told everyone about how he got this job because his friend’s girlfriend, who is Yeri, knew he needed a part-time job. He got to the Funfair having no idea what he was going to do, much less knowing that you worked here too. He told them how happy he got the first time he saw you helping Mina at the food stalls, and how he recognized you by your voice, because he couldn’t really see much when he was wearing the costume.

He told them all about how he tried getting your attention as Sunny when you didn’t seem to recognize him, but it backfired because you couldn’t remember him and he was starting to get sad. He told them that he actively avoided you when he wasn’t wearing his costume to avoid the embarrassment of you not knowing who he was. Then, he said how you accidentally found out who he was, how he got closer to you each day and how it all backfired when he confessed last Saturday and you rejected him.

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

"Either way, it's probably not real feelings. At least not towards me." you said, not looking in his eyes.

"You are unbelievably stubborn, blind and borderline rude," he spitted out, feeling the anger building up. How dare you have a say on what he feels about you?

"See? Why would you like someone with a nasty personality like that?" your arms moved around excitingly, as if you were proving your point. "You like the chase, not me!"

And then, Donghyuck confessed how he was ready to look you in the eyes and fight back, but the words died on his throat when he saw the huge smile on your face. He paid attention to the way your palms were open in front of you, arms stretched towards him, the way that wrinkles were all around your eyes from how much you were smiling and how excited you looked. He admitted that it dawned upon him that he likes you to the extent that he could let you keep thinking, for a moment, that he's not absolutely in falling for you if it meant that you would keep smiling like that.

Donghyuck understands that he can't always win. So, he gave you that one, letting you think you were right. He let you go back to your milkshake and your pancakes tasting of syrup and the satisfaction of being on the winning end of an argument.

He let you win that battle so he could win the war. Eventually.

“How will you win her over, then?” Mina looks at him curiously.

“I don’t have a plan,” Donghyuck sees the disapproving look on their faces and quickly adds. “Yet.” They all look at him suspiciously, and he can see Taeyong’s amused face. “Can’t you guys help me? You’re all her friends.”

"Oh, no," Chenle clicks his tongue while excessively shaking his index finger "No, no."

"We're here to judge not to meddle," Jisung says and all of them start moving around, getting ready to go to work.

"Yeah, take Jisung and Mina as an example, they got together by themselves. We never helped, only judged.” Yeri complements, making Jisung agree with a sad ‘yeah’.

"That's so messed up," Donghyuck shakes his head in disbelief. "You are all insane."

"Well, I can call her a coward if it helps you," Chenle. "It's what I did to Mina all these years."

"That's mean, Chenle,” Taeyong says disapprovingly.

"Frankly, it worked eventually," Mina replies as she stands up from the seat and stretches.

She kisses Jisung cheek and heads out, and, slowly, everybody goes to their normal, uneventful job at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation.

After the eventful Saturday when Donghyuck confessed, you never touched the “feelings” subject anymore. He is still Lee Donghyuck, your friend and coworker whom, sometimes, you go out with. Nothing more, nothing less. And on days like today, when it has been raining non stop since 10 a.m, it was amazing having an energetic friend like him.

You don’t know how he did it, really. The rain caught you all by surprise, so Donghyuck, who works outside, had to stay in the breakroom until the rain stopped, and that only happened around 9 p.m. There were no customers at all, the park was empty and even though you were supposed to stay open until midnight today, Taeyong decided to let you all go home early.

Chenle was complaining how the last hangout had been the one at Jisung’s house before Mina and him were even dating, and just like that, all of you end up in Donghyuck’s apartment drinking hot chocolate and playing card games.

It’s time for all of you to show your cards and you hear Chenle groan as Donghyuck smirks and gets all the tokens from the table.

“It’s rigged, he got a full house twice and then royal flush right after,” Chenle scoffs and Donghyuck just laughs.

“Damn, he really won three times in a row?” Mina says and you and Jisung just exchange confused looks, having no idea what had happened.

“Poker is a very confusing game,” you think out loud and Donghyuck smiles sweetly at you.

“Lucky at cards, unlucky in love,” he mumbles, shuffling the cards. “Do you wanna play again or will you keep crying?”

You look at the empty popcorn bowls and mugs beside you and look at Jisung who is just as confused as you. Tired of playing a game you can barely understand, you just shake your head. “You can keep playing, I’ll wash the dishes.”

Before you can even get all of the mugs around you, Donghyuck is standing up, holding the popcorn bowls and a few mugs. You don’t have time to tell him to keep playing because he just goes straight to the kitchen, making you follow him. When you get there, he already has the gloves and the sponge on his hand.

“I thought I said I’d do it,” you angrily put your hands on your hips, scolding him with your eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s against the house rules to have a beautiful lady washing the dishes,” he bumps his hips with yours, making you scoff as you try to hide your smile.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?” you say, leaning your back on the kitchen sink, right next to him. “You invited us over before telling him, didn’t you?”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He shrugs. “He told me he wasn't going to spend the night here today anyways.”

“Girlfriend?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning a little to his side, almost brushing your shoulders together.

“Why are you so curious? Do I have to compete with Jeno?” He asks playfully and you just push his shoulder.

“I was just asking.” You mumble, moving back to your original position. “By the way, Doyoung told me the other day that Jeno is like his brother? And Yeri gave you this job? Your relationships are so confusing.”

He laughs looking at you fondly. “What do you wanna know? Ask away.”

“Hm, how do you know Doyoung? And Yeri? And Jeno?”

“Do you want to know my family tree too?” He jokes and you show him your tongue. “Jeno, Mark and I are childhood friends, Doyoung hyung’s family is really close to Jeno’s, so we all just know each other from birthday parties and stuff. We are not that close though.”

“Oh.” You mumble nodding. “Yeri told us she got you the job though?”

“Yeah, she's been dating Mark for like a year?” He says, shrugging. “Either way, that was a coincidence, I didn’t know she knew Doyoung hyung. Actually, I thought he was working at his father’s law firm? I don’t know what happened, his family is weird.”

“Damn, I was here waiting for the tea and you don’t know anything!” You huff, faking annoyance. “You’re really bad at gossiping.” You notice he is starting to rinse the dishes in the sink, so you grab the towel that’s on the counter.

“And you’re really bad at poker.” He fights back, giving you some mugs to dry and put away. “Why did you say you liked playing cards if you’re bad at it?”

“It’s because I don’t know how to play poker,” you answer, lining up the dry mugs on the counter. “I like to play rummy, not poker.”

“You should have said so.” He gently places the two big popcorn bowls and closes the faucet. “We could have played that instead.”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to hang out with you.” You confess, hoping he understands you weren’t using the plural form of the pronoun. “I didn’t know you were that good at poker, though, I thought you only played League of Legends or whatever.”

“I’m not good, it was rigged,” He leans to whisper in your ears and you feel your pulse hammering on your neck. He chuckles at your startled expression, thinking you’re reacting to his confession, not to his proximity. “I’m joking, don’t be that shocked. Jeno and I just play a lot.”

“What about your other friend?” you ask, not really minding his proximity.

“Mark?” He scoffs when you nod. “He can’t bluff to save his life.”

“You smell nice,” you blurt out and his eyes go wide at your sudden confession. “I- I meant your house.” You use this moment as an opportunity to slide away from him. “Your house smells nice, do you use scented candles?” He chuckles, ready to tease you, but lets it slide.

In the living room, Jisung is sleeping like a rock on Mina’s lap, who is starting to doze off as well. Chenle pokes his friends' arms, saying he has to go because his mom is already worried about his whereabouts. Slowly, they all start to collect their belongings and when you and Donghyuck are back from the kitchen, they are all ready to go. The two of you are taken aback as they bid their goodbyes and thank Donghyuck for being the host for the night.

You decide to stay a little longer to help the owner of the apartment to put everything back in place, when he suddenly asks you to stay the night.

“It’s late, I’ll worry if you go back now,” he pouts. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m serious.”

“I go home late everyday, it’s fine.”

“You have 2 choices,” he raises his index and middle finger in front of you. “Either I take you home or you stay the night.”

“Why didn’t you suggest taking the others home too?” you cross your arms in front of him, clearly challenging Donghyuck. Oh, he is so ready for another battle, but this time he won’t bend.

“Because Jeno has the car.”

“Then how are you taking me home?” you tilt your head playfully.

“I’ll get an uber,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“I was already gonna do that, silly,” you fish your phone out of your pocket to open the app, but Donghycuk steals the phone from your hands. “Donghyuck!”

“I’ll get an uber,” he says, locking your phone and putting it in the front pocket of his sweatpants. “And go with you to drop you off.”

You laugh, clearly amused at his absurd suggestion. “There is no way I’ll let you do that.”

“There is no way I’ll let you get inside a stranger's cars by yourself at 1 a.m.” The firm tone of his voice was enough to let you know he was not dropping this argument like he did last time.

“And how will you get back to your apartment?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s none of your-” you get too close to him and he feels the words dying in his throat at the thought of you hugging him. Donghyuck quickly reacts, though, when he feels you putting your hands inside the left pocket of his sweatpants, making him hold your arms to keep you in place. “HEY. Bad girl.”

“Don’t say that, I’m not a dog.” You grunt, trying to break free from his hold. “Give me my phone, back Hyuck.”

Your whines don’t affect him too much, as he keeps his strong hold on you. You start to take a few steps around the living room, shaking your arms as you try to make him let go. Picturing this scene in your head, you start laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing must look.

“Good girls don’t fight with daddy!” He forces a mocking sexy voice, making you laugh even harder. “Damn, I love you laugh.”

You are still giggling when you turn to look at his face. Donghyuck is already staring at you with utmost adoration and slightly curved lips. Your heart skips a few beats when your eyes lock and he bites his lips to hold his ever growing smile.

“I really love the sound of your laugh.”

His face is closer to yours than you remember, and it’s when he loosens the hold on your arms, only to slide his hands to hold yours, that you realize you have been holding your breath.

“If you don’t want me to go with you, then, stay.” He whispers, using your interlocked hands to pull you closer to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You suggested riding the uber with me,” you smile shyly, slightly moving your head to the side, giving him the space he wanted to pull you closer and nuzzle up against your neck. “Aren’t you being overprotective?”

“Is it a crime, now?” you get goosebumps when you feel him mumbling against your neck.

“It’s toxic,” you joke, taking your hands out of his grasp and raising your arms to place them around his neck. “You smell really good,” you whisper again and feel him taking a deep breath, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Stay, please.”

Donghyuck may have not convinced you the first time he confessed because he had been too straightforward, too casual about it. He should have known better than that. Casual flirting and occasional dates weren’t enough to win you over. That’s why he lost the first battle. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to turn his AC on because even though you’re both sweating, you don’t let him get out of your arms, he knows he’s one step closer to winning the war.

The first thing you do when you open your eyes the following morning is wonder what time it is. You palm the side of the bed to look for your phone, only to feel a human arm. You open your eyes, recognizing Donghyuck’s room. He has one of his arms under your neck, the other one is lazily around your waist and his head nuzzled against your nape. You smile, dreading the moment he wakes up and starts teasing you for staying the night and sleeping on his bed holding him.

You consider calling out today, because you are almost sure that by the time you get there, everybody will be aware that you and Donghyuck cuddled all night long.

Carefully, you get out of bed and go straight to the kitchen to get a cup of water. You shouldn’t feel as comfortable at somebody else’s house as you are right now. When you were about to head back to Donghyuck’s room, Jeno entered the kitchen, with damp hair and wearing only gym shorts. The boy stops on his tracks and you two stare at each other, frozen.

“Hello?” The boy greets you with a frown and closed fists, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Hey. Hi. Good morning.” You answer avoiding eye contact, completely mortified of the encounter. “I-I just- Hyuck told me-”

“Oh, you're with Hyuck?” he acknowledges, smiling at you. “I thought somebody had broken in.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought he had let you know I was staying the night.” You apologize again, and suddenly feel self-aware of your outfit consisting of Donghyuck clothes. “I’ll go back-”

You hear a door opening and steps heading towards the kitchen, and, suddenly, Donghyuck appears. Swollen face, bed hair and shirtless… you feel like melting right there.

“It’s not even 11 yet, why did you-” He looks at Jeno with his squint eyes and then back at you, only to gasp and slap his friend’s chest. “JENO? BE DECENT, GO PUT ON A SHIRT.”

“OUCH, THAT HURTS, ASSHAT!” The boy soothes the place where he was slapped, looking angrily at his friend. “You’re shirtless too!”

“I JUST WOKE UP!” He slaps his friend again, now getting in front of him to block your view. “HONEY, DON’T LOOK!”

“AND I WAS JOGGING?” Jenos slaps Donghyuck Back and you just laugh at how childish they look. “Oh, wait, honey?” He moves to the side to look at you again, but Donghyuck stays in his way. “Dude?”

“Stop moving around, she doesn’t need to see how ripped you are.” Donghyuck bites back and you chuckle.

Jeno shoves Donghyuck to the side and waves at you. “Sorry, he’s very impolite and didn’t think about introducing us. I’m Jeno.”

“SHIRT, JENO. SHIRT.” Donghyuck shouts, as he pushes his friend towards the hallway.

You stay there in the kitchen, holding your laugh, because of course you couldn’t have a nice and calm morning with Lee Donghyuck.

“Hey. Hi. How are you?” Donghyuck comes back a few seconds later, panting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lips to hold your laugh while Donghyuck just walks towards you very, very flustered. “Why are you shirtless? I clearly remember you going to sleep fully clothed.”

“Well, if only someone wasn’t holding me so damn tight the whole night…” He grabs you by the waist, making you yelp in surprise. “When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago.” You answer as he nuzzles your neck and hums.

“What about Jeno?” He asks again, pressing you closer to him, making you involuntarily put your hands on his shoulder to keep your balance. “Did you stare at his ripped abs and toned arms for a long time or did he just get here?”

“You’re so annoying.” You cackle at his question, which only makes him hug you tighter. “Why? Are you jealous?” He tightens his hold on you even more, making you let out chuckles and whines “OUCH, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m holding you.” He answers, walking with you further down the kitchen. “I know the competition is strong, but, come on, I’m hot too, right?” He creates some space between you, just enough to look at you, pouting.

“Donghyuck,” you start and he hums, telling you to keep going. “Do you think you could set me up with Jeno?” You say mischievously, making him squint his eyes angrily at you.

He pokes his cheek with his tongue and rolls his eyes at you. Before you can see it coming, he presses you against the kitchen counter and starts tickling your sides, making you squirm and beg him to stop, but having fun nonetheless.

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. After that night in Donghyuck’s house, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies in your stomach each time he did something for you.

You really try to restrain yourself as much as possible, but there is so much a human being can resist when Lee Donghyuck comes out of nowhere and slides his hands from your nape down to your lower back and kisses your cheeks right after. Or when you’re sitting next to each other in the break room and he plays with your fingers under the table. Or when you’re eating out and he makes sure to keep your hair out of the way for you. Or when he takes Jeno’s car and picks you up late at night from your shifts, even when it’s his day off. Or when-

“Hey, pay attention,” Mina nudges you as Taeyong enters the room, followed by Doyoung, Yuta and a panting Donghyuck, who’s late.

“Sorry, I’m late, I had-”

“Just sit down, Hyuck.” You have never heard such a serious grave tone coming out of Taeyong's mouth before. “Please.”

You all look at each other worried about what is about to happen. When the words leave Taeyong’s mouth, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you all are, though. It’s still shocking, though. From the moment you started, you knew this job wouldn’t last.

“You’re closing forever?” Jisung asks cautiously, making Yuta look at him fondly.

“Yeah, buddy. My parents decided to sell it.” Taeyong smiles apologetically at the three best friends. Chenle is frozen, staring at the managers with his mouth agape. “I know how Sunny’s Funfair is special for the three of you, I’m sorry, Lele, Ji, and Min. I wish I had something else to say, but I can only apologize for this news.”

“Don’t make a speech or else Jisung’s gonna cry.” Chenle tries to joke to lighten up the mood, but his friend only reacts by giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“In the meantime, we will keep working.” Doyoung moves around the break room and hands us a sheet of paper. “Opening tasks, everybody! Let’s do our best during the time that’s left.”

You take a glance at Donghyuck who looks at you worriedly. You offer him a sad smile and shrug, which he mimics, making you smile wider.

“Hey, you two, did you hear Doyoung?” Yuta points at you and Donghyuck. “Stop flirting, go back to work!”

The gloomy vibes don’t go away for at least four days, when Taeyong appears with a cake and a box full of old pictures. The park was closed, but he asked us to stay, telling us it would be worth it and promising to give us a ride home.

We are all seated around the table, eating cake, with taeyong in the middle seat showing us old pictures of the park. There were pictures of families, of former employees, and even of Taeyong and his family. You could see from the first day at the job how much he liked being Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation. It was more than an old park that he had to manage because it’s what his parents told him to do. He actually believed that this small, beaten up amusement park could serve as a way of bringing happiness to the community and help families build cheerful memories together. But there is only so much one can do. You could see that this moment of bringing together the staff and encouraging us to share our best memories of the park is a way of giving Taeyong some comfort.

You sigh, looking sadly at your boss as he rummages through the box of pictures and feel Donghyuck’s arm resting on your shoulder, slightly bringing you closer to his side.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He whispers in your ear and you just turn your head to look at him. Oh, you owed Sunny’s Funfair so much.

“Just thinking.” You lower your head to look at the piece of cake in front of you. “Taeyong did a great job.”

“Hey, you two lovebirds, stop flirting,” Taeyong says, quickly standing up.

“When did I become the butt end of your teasing and not Jisung and Mina?” You ask no one in particular, but Chenle replies.

“Ever since you and Donghyuck started dating.”

“We are not-”

“I have THE ultimate picture here in my hands.” Taeyong interrupts you, as he holds one picture close to his chest, with the back facing us. There is something written behind it and you squint to try to read it, but he is too far from you. “This one here is our most prized possession as a team. We have to cherish this picture.”

“Show us this damn picture.” Chenle’s impatient demeanor falters when Taeyong turns the picture and we see three little children holding hands at the entrance of the park. “What the-”

“How did you get that picture?” Mina tries to take it from Taeyong, but fails.

“Is that us?” Jisung asks dumbfounded.

“There’s a note too.” Taeyong flips the picture and reads the note. “ ‘Today is the day where our Chenle is celebrating his sixth birthday. Thank you so much for the fun memories, Sunny!’ and it’s signed by Mrs. Zhong.”

After their initial shock, you start analyzing the picture, looking at the details: the birthday hat on Chenle’s chubby face, Jisung’s missing teeth and Mina’s ice lolly that was melting in her hands as they were taking the pictures. Then, you see dozens of other pictures, all sent by Chenle’s mom with a note, thanking the staff for the happy memories they created with the children. Taeyong says that his mom was one of the people who used to send messages and pictures to the administration, back when the park was a little more lively.

When you get home, almost ready to go to bed, you reflect on how that place has meant so much for some people, how it is full of memories and how it holds stories from the entire neighborhood. You think about how that was supposed to be only a job, and yet, it is the place that has brought amazing people to your life. You know Funfair’s closing is inevitable, but you finally understood what Taeyong was trying to do that night: closure. He doesn’t want to shut it down and just let everyone move on with their lives as if it didn’t matter, because, for many people, like Chenle, Jisung and Mina, it mattered.

Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation holds stories and you might not be able to save it, but you are ready to tell them.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for another job?” Donghyuck asks as he enters the parking lot. “I mean, I think it’s a nice idea, I really do. But…”

“I am looking, I just haven’t found anything yet.” You say, taking the parking ticket from his fingers and putting it inside your bag.

“I know you’re lying because you've been saying this for three weeks.” He parks the car and turns off the engine, but doesn’t open the doors. “Have you at least applied to anything?”

“Look,” you sigh and hold his face in your hands. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll figure it out.”

He sighs as he sees you unbuckling your belt and unlocking the door. “I hope you know you can’t be my trophy wife yet, I don’t have enough money to pay both of our bills.”

“To be your trophy wife, first and foremost, I need to be married to you.” You turn around to see him leaning on the car with the door open. “We’re not even dating yet.”

“Because you rejected me when I asked you out.” He closes the car’s door and reaches for your hand.

“Ask me again, then.” You say raising an eyebrow at him.

“Will the answer be different?

“I don’t know. Ask me out again.” you shrug and interrupt him when you see Donghyuck opening his mouth. “Properly.”

“Damn.” He sighs and you chuckle at him. “Why me? The world is female, you can ask too, you know?”

You enter the building, telling Donghyuck to wait while you talk to the receptionist. A few minutes later, a very stressed Renjun appears to talk to you. From afar, Donghyuck can see that the boy seemed frustrated at whatever you were arguing, glaring at you and sighing a lot. He knows Renjun was forced by his parents to drop out of art school and start business so he could work in his family company, so the least he needed right now was a very stubborn you adding to his stress.

At some point, he sees Renjun grabbing his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer and making a phone call. Donghyuck starts to think that it was better if you went to a more private place, but you seemed adamant about cornering Renjun in public. Not even two minutes later, he finishes the phone call and tells you something that makes you hug him and Donghyuck sees how his angry demeanor falters. You bid him goodbye and wave at Donghyuck so you can both go.

“What was that?” He asks as you hand him the parking ticket.

“I just needed one last favor from him.” You simply say, reaching for his hands.

“And that is…”

“You’ll see.”

It’s when you intertwine your fingers with Donghyuck and beams at him, that he knows he’s ready to confess again.

You did promise that he would see. Well, not only Donghyuck but the whole student body as well. A week after that weird interaction with Renjun, there is an article about you in the school’s official website, first page. It was also mentioned on the school’s newsletter and official social media pages. It was not only an article about you, but about Chenle, Jisung, Mina, Taeyong… All of you at the Funfair.

Donghyuck had to admit that when you told him your idea at first, he didn’t think you would go through with that. You wanted to tell the others the stories that the Funfair had seen throughout the years throughout an article and later, compile them in a book of memories, with pictures, messages, notes, stories about the place. He really didn’t think you would go through with that considering how much time and planning something like that takes, but, somehow, you did it.

It’s your last day. You spent the past month talking to people, curating pictures, writing, organizing schedules… you were tired, but it was all worth it. You wanted to let this old beaten up park tell the stories it held, even if it was gone. That’s why now, when the lights are already off and Taeyong is only waiting for you to come outside and lock the side door for one last time, you hand him a book with a small bow on top. You see, a little far from where you stand, your friends looking at each other confused, Yeri particularly impatient to go home.

“I want you to have this.” Taeyong looks at you confused. “It was a lot of work to get this done, especially because I’m not very artsy, but I think I owe you this one.”

He opens the book only to find, in a very neat handwriting, the words “Sunny’s memories” written. He looks between you and the book, slightly confused about what it is about, but when he flips the next page, he smiles. He finds a picture of him, Doyoung and Yuta taken many years ago. There were a few arrows connecting their faces to the words “boss”, “manager #1”, “manager #2”.

On the side, there was a small text about each one of them, how they ended up working there, what were their thoughts about the job and their favorite memory there. Every piece of information you gathered in these months working at the park was there, even some of the stories your boss has told you. Taeyong keeps flipping the pages, only to find more pictures of each one of you working there, your names, your thoughts, your memories, all written as if it was from Sunny’s perspective. He looks at you with watery eyes and pulls you to a hug.

“What it’s all this?” He sniffs.

“That day, when you showed us the pictures, I realized places hold stories and this one had many to tell.” You smile and he pats your head. “I know you didn’t want to close the park and let everybody move on as if it never mattered to anyone because it did. To some of us, at least. You did a great job, boss.”

“Oh, kid.” He sniffs and once again hugs you. “It’s perfect!” Taeyong said happily, taking you and his present towards the others. “Everybody, you need to see this!”

Now, after Sunny closed down, you are back to square one.

It’s a Friday night and you were invited to a party, but you managed to convince Donghyuck to stay at his apartment with you. You certainly needed a distraction after another week of failed attempts at getting a job and you know Donghyuck is much more entertaining than any party.

Your relationship status is still pretty much complicated. Even though it was already clear that you both liked each other, Donghyuck still hasn’t asked you the question, waiting for the right moment. It was really hard for him not to cross the friendship line, though, especially when, more often than not, he has make out sessions with you on his couch.

The worst for Donghyuck is how your friends have been keeping their promise of not meddling, but making sure of judging the both of you each time you deny you’re dating while Donghyuck’s hands are intertwined with yours. Tonight, with Jeno away at a party, you have his apartment all to yourselves and Donghyuck decides to make the most out of it. He needs to confess today.

“Hi.” You smile, showing him the take out bag you’re carrying when he opens the door. Your smile falters when you see him frown. “Am I too early? I can-”

“I thought I was supposed to pick you up.” He pouts, moving to the side to let you go inside. “And you shouldn’t have brought take out, I told you I could cook for us.”

“Oh my god, I barely got here and you’re complaining already?” You put the take out on the kitchen counter and go wash your hands.

“It’s just that you’re ruining my plans.” Donghyuck says while peeking inside the bag. “Is this…”

“Yeah, your favorite, kimchi-jjigae.” You turn around to look at him when you hear his groan. “What, now?”

“I had the whole thing planned, you just-”

“Well, maybe you should have told me then!” You scoff. “I just wanted to make something nice for you because I know your new job at the office is killing you, but I’m sorry I guess?”

You start to feel frustrated at his reaction. You were expecting tight hugs, warm smiles and maybe some cuddles, but all Donghyuck has done in the past few minutes is complain and blame you for ruining something you didn’t even know that existed. He senses your frustration and sadness and just quietly holds your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, not really looking at you. “It’s just that I really wanted to do something nice for you too.”

“You always do nice things for me. You’re too nice to me.” You say, turning around to grab bowls to pour the food in. “I got this one.”

Despite Donghyuck’s plan of picking you up, bringing you to his apartment, cooking your favorite food and confessing the words that he has been dying to say failed, he still needs to do it tonight. Well, after months of pining, it was now or never. If you reject him again, he needs to be ready to move on.

“How’s the job?” You ask before taking a bite of your food.

“Hell.” He answers, groaning. “I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to study business. I hate that job.”

“Do you really hate the job or do you just hate the boss?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing fully well that Donghyuck doesn’t really hate what he does, he just can’t stand the presumptuous guys in his office, treating him like garbage just because he’s an intern.

“What about you?” He frowns when he sees you pouting at your food. “I don’t like this face.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You laugh humorlessly.

“I told you, give me five years and you can be my trophy wife.” He jokes, knowing how much you hate the idea.

“Wow, five? That much?”

“I can compromise and make it three if you don’t want kids in the future.” You laugh at his words and try to kick his leg from under the table, but he traps you.

You keep moving between topics because it was just that easy to talk to him. You mentioned how you had seen Mina and Jisung at the campus the other day and Donghyuck points out how he thinks they’re going to get married before graduation. You disagree, Jisung is still a kid. Then, he mentions how he had often seen Chenle around his office, only to find out later that the company he worked at was his grandfather’s. After the Funfair closed, he started working at the family’s company, but Donghyuck says that they are in different departments. You asked about his family that you haven’t met yet, but always heard stories about, and he tells you everything about his younger brother’s record card and his middle sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t forget to mention Jeno’s friends with benefits situation, and that he only found out after finding lingerie lost in the washing machine.

After dinner, Donghyuck suggests teaching you poker for the tenth time, which makes you slightly annoyed because, at this point, you just hate the game. You are both sitting on the floor and he is leaning his back on the couch while you are seated between his legs. He says the proximity is for “pedagogical purposes”.

“No, honey,” He stops your movement by putting his arm around your body and pulling you closer to him. “Look at my cards! I’m showing you my cards!”

“I don’t know what your cards mean!” You groan as you throw your cards on the pile in front of you and lean your head on his shoulder. “I wanna play rummy.”

“It's a children's game.��

“Well, it’s the only one I know how to play!” you exclaim, easily convincing him with a kiss on his cheek.

You realize playing games is not working very well because you shouldn’t see each other's cards, but that’s a very hard feature to achieve when you don’t want to move away from each other. Eventually, you also get tired of Donghyuck constantly cheating and just suggest that you watch a movie instead.

“Should we watch Monsters University?” you ask, leaning your head on his shoulder and he nods.

“Let’s go, Mike Wazowski!”

You move to the couch, complaining about being too uncomfortable for your butt, and at the end of the movie, you are both sprawled on his couch, with a blanket over you and your legs tangled. You see his eyes closed and smile at how tired he must be, but still chose to spend the night with you. He is close enough for you to nuzzle against his neck, making him stir at the sudden contact. You don’t smell his cologne, but the faint smell of your favorite lavender soap is there, making you smile against his neck.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He asks, running his hands from your nape down your spine.

“You owe me so many pennies.” You joke and he smiles. “I’m just thinking that I’m happy.”

Things didn’t happen the way you wanted from the beginning. You still feel like your life is a mess and sometimes you really think it will be the end soon. But you don't need to think that you’re alone anymore. Not when you have your friends. Not when you have him.

“I’m happy too.” He hums and a comfortable silence rests between you, the only sound is the music from the movie credits on the TV.

You think you are about to drift off to sleep, when Donghyuck stops his hands on the middle of your back and, because you're still nuzzled around his neck, you feel his pulse quickening. You hear him gulp a feel times before he has the courage to speak.

“There’s something that would make me happier.” He cautiously changes your positions, so he can face you when whispering the question he has been dying to ask and you have been dying to hear. “Do you wanna date me?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to say ‘no’ to you?” You kiss his cheek and he closes his eyes, feeling relieved already. “It’s especially unfair when you keep me so close like this.”

When you close the gap between you, holding his face tenderly and giving him the sweetest kiss he has ever tasted, he knows he has won. He definitely has. He moves, making you lie down under him, and as he kisses your neck, he says:

“All is fair in love and war, honey.”

Donghyuck has always tried to communicate with Jeno not only because they are childhood friends and roommates but because they also need privacy. Everybody does. So when Donghyuck tells his friend that he will be away for two days because of a conference, Jeno understands that he will have the apartment all to himself.

What Donghyuck doesn’t expect is to get an email as soon as he arrives at the airport telling him that the conference was canceled and he should head back to the office. He gets so mad that nothing would make him more happy than just killing his boss. He shouldn’t though, because he had promised to make you his trophy wife in five years, so he needs to get a promotion soon. He smiles, thinking of you, and decides to pick you up today.

Even after months of dating, he was still pretty much elated to say that he could pick up his girlfriend at work. His girlfriend. As soon as he pulls up in front of the office’s building, you send him a message.

[mike wasowski - 5:35 p.m] are you here already?

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] just got here babe.

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] ready?

[mike wasowski - 5:36 p.m] can you give me 15 more minutes?

[donghyuck - 5:36 p.m] i’ll be in the parking lot.

He smiles as he sees you exiting the building wearing a scowl. Oh, he was so ready for your work gossip. Your scrunched up face doesn’t last long, because you can’t help but smile when you see him waving at you. You run to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his lips tenderly, which is his favorite part.

“Hi, girlfriend.” He steals one more kiss from you, making you smile.

“Hi, boyfriend.” You smile, pushing him away from you and opening the car’s door. “Let’s go, I need to tell you what that bitch made me do today.”

That's how you spend the whole drive to his apartment, complaining about one of the managers that keeps making redo things, only to say that you’re slacking off and never get things done. ‘I could get things done if she didn’t keep asking me to solve problems that don’t even exist’, you would always say. He let you vent your pent up anger, so he would do the same about his coworkers.

You had finally found a job at a publishing house, a small one, and it wasn’t exactly the experience as a journalist that you wanted to have, but learning about publishing and editing is surely something positive and way more useful than working at a café like you used to. When life closes a door, it opens a window.

And your boyfriend is very proud of you not only for taking his advice and applying for your current job, but also for admitting that he is very smart. Donghyuck is smart in a lot of areas, it’s just that when it comes to you, he gets a little stupid. That’s why you get to his apartment and see something both of you shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

“WHAT THE FUCK, JENO?” Donghyuck screams and you run to the kitchen, thinking something bad happened. “NO BABE, DON’T COME, CLOSE YOUR EYES!” He puts his hands on your face before you can even understand what’s going on.

“WHAT THE FUCK, DONGHYUCK? YOU TOLD ME YOU’D BE AWAY FOR TWO DAYS.” Jeno screams back, hurriedly looking for his shirt to cover himself.

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WOULD BE BALLS DEEP INSIDE SOMEONE ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER!” You fight him, trying to take his hands off your face, but Donghyuck is faster than you. “Don’t try to look, what are you trying to look at?”

“Jeno, I-” The girl sitting on the counter looks mortified.

“I’m not trying to see anything, I’m trying to set free because you’re crushing my skull.” You keep moving, trying to fight him while Jeno and the girl are putting their clothes on.

“I know you’re tryna see Jeno naked. I’m your boyfriend, the only dick you’re allowed to see is mine.” He keeps his hand pressed against your eyes making you whine even more.

“Stop being a freak! You’re just pressing my eyes too aggressively.” You reach forward, trying to find his face. “And what about you? Uh? Are you trying to see Jeno’s girlfriend naked? I’m the only one you’re allowed to see naked.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” Both of them say at the same time, looking at each other sheepishly, while you and Donghyuck keep bickering at the kitchen's door.

“IF I CAN'T SEE JENO’S DICK, YOU CAN’T SEE HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS!” You say, accidentally slapping his face as you try to cover his eyes as well.

“Are you SLAPPING me because I won’t let you see JENO’S DICK?” Donghyuck complains.

“I SLAPPED YOU BECAUSE I CAN’T SEE SHIT, YOU MOTHERFUC-”

He cuts you off by kissing your lips and pushing you to the hallway, warning the ones left behind: “JUST CLEAN EVERYTHING WHEN YOU’RE DONE!”

Donghyuck thinks that the first step before turning you into his trophy wife is buying his own place.

#nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #haechan drabbles #haechan fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader #haechan scenarios

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whitedarkmoonflower · 11 months ago

Text

Feeling you 3

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this is the last part and as I already wrote it got unexpectedly long, but I'm posting it as it is just as you voted. I really got so caugh up in this story 😅 I hope you'll enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 7,5 K

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

You woke up with a throbbing headache, having struggled to find sleep until the early hours. The walls of the old house seemed as thin as parchment. Every sound penetrated your room – the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of the fireplace, all blending into a cacophony that grated your weary senses.

But it was the faint noises from the floor above that truly disrupted your rest, igniting your imagination. You briefly wondered if Eanflaed had deliberately placed your bed right beneath the room where Sihtric and Ealfwin spent the night. The thought was quickly dismissed, but couldn't you hear his voice through the thin ceiling? The blurred sounds of the muffled moans and passionate groans seemed to reach you even as you tried to block them out, covering your ears with your hands and burying your head under the pillow. It was almost dawn when your exhausted mind finally succumbed to a restless sleep, only to be woken soon after by the bustling sounds of morning chores.

"You've certainly looked better," Eanflaed remarked as she noticed you stepping into the main room, wincing when the bright daylight hit your red and swollen eyes.

"By the saints, I'd almost forgotten how thin these walls are," you grumbled, sinking into a seat and propping your aching head up with your hands. "I've ruined everything, have I not?" You added after a pause.

"Hold on, don't lose hope so quickly. Regarding Sigefried - you haven't acted in a manner unbecoming of a modest maiden. It was he who overstepped. If you wish, I can speak with him. But the real question is, do you truly want that?" Eanflaed said, a chuckle in her voice as she placed a plate of bread and cheese before you.

Her offer didn't surprise you. This was typical of Eanflaed, always resilient. Despite the hardships life had thrown at her, including losing her husband and being left to raise three young children while running an alehouse, she never faltered. Her approach was always pragmatic and thoughtful. She had a unique ability to balance her steadfast resilience with a protective nature towards her friends and the girls at the alehouse. They were like family to her, each deserving of her unwavering support.

But as much as you wished Eanflaed could solve this problem for you, you realised it was something you needed to address yourself.

"You are right, but I need to handle this myself. I have to speak with him," you said, nibbling on a piece of bread, lost in thought.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" Eanflaed's question caught you off guard, and you looked up to meet her probing eyes.

"Of course, I want it," you asserted, a hint of frustration in your tone. "I turned away a good man for... for a fleeting dream, for... nothing."

"Listen," Eanflaed said, sitting beside you and taking your hands in hers. "Who are you trying to convince? I've known you long enough. This isn't you. I know you're hurting now, but think carefully. If you accept Sigefried's proposal, it's a lifelong commitment. Don't make this choice out of hurt. You won't be able to bear it; your heart isn't made for such compromise, and I say that as a compliment.”

You gazed at Eanflaed in astonishment, trying to comprehend her words. The usually rational and sensible Eanflaed, who had often chided you for impulsively following your heart, was now advising you to reconsider what seemed like the most reasonable decision you had ever made.

It had been foolish to reject Sigefried. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by fleeting emotions and silly dreams, ignoring the stability and future that Sigefried offered. The thought of what you had almost thrown away for someone who didn’t even acknowledge your existence left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was time to face reality, and though the prospect of apologising to Sigefried was daunting, it was an unavoidable step unless you wanted to spend your life scrubbing mugs in the alehouse. If your fate was to be a whore in the disguise of a wife, you were ready to embrace it. At least you’ll be a modest and well-fed one.

With a gentle but firm motion, you freed your hands from Eanflaed’s hold and stood up from the table. “There's nothing left to think about. I had the whole night for that. I’ve made my decision.”

—--------------------------------------------------

"Look what I've got," Ealfwin announced, descending the stairs with a satisfied smile on her lips and dropping two golden rings onto the counter. Her smile widened as she watched them roll and clink across the wooden surface. Eanflaed's eyes widened in surprise.

"It was the strangest night of my life," Ealfwin laughed.

"What happened? It was that young Dane who took you upstairs, wasn't it? What did he want?" Eanflaed asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh, don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. He was so passionate, kissing me like a desperate starving man, right here at the table. But when we got upstairs and I started to undress, he suddenly told me he wasn't in the mood," Ealfwin explained, shrugging. "I was about to leave, but then he took off two of his rings and asked me to have a drink with him and stay the night. He said he didn't want to be alone."

"And then what happened?" Eanflaed probed, her curiosity evident.

"We just drank and talked. About life, the alehouse, all sorts of things. Then he asked for another pitcher of ale and told me to go to bed. I couldn't turn down such a generous offer. Just look at these rings – they're solid gold, and look at how thick they are."

"Yes, the rings are impressive. But what was he doing all this time?" Eanflaed inquired further.

"He just sat there, drinking. And this might sound odd," Ealfwin paused, licking her lips nervously before continuing, "but if I didn't know he was a Dane and one of Uhtred's fiercest warriors, I'd think he was crying."

"Crying?" Eanflaed's tone was filled with disbelief.

"Yes, crying. It was late already when I woke up to some odd noises, and there he was, still at the table, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he were sobbing," Ealfwin's voice dropped to a hushed tone, and she glanced around cautiously, as though worried about being overheard. "It must have been something else, perhaps I was still half-asleep. He's a Dane, after all, and just yesterday I heard Uhtred praising his prowess in battle. Such men don't cry, do they?"

"No, they usually don't," Eanflaed agreed, though her response came with a hint of hesitation as she slowly shook her head, seemingly lost in thought.

"Yeah, and by the time I woke up this morning, he was already gone," Ealfwin concluded, her gaze still fixed on the two gleaming gold rings resting on the counter. "I really need a new dress; this one's seen better days."

Eanflaed picked up the rings and slipped them into a small pouch at her waist. "I'll get these exchanged for money. Last night was really a good one. We should now have enough to restock for the winter, and I'm sure we can manage a few new dresses as well."

—-----------------------------------------------

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Eanflaed chuckled, glancing towards the door as it creaked open. It was still morning, edging towards noon, and she had only just finished cleaning the main room.

"I'm here to talk to Y/N, to offer congratulations on the engagement," slurred the young man leaning heavily against the door frame. Clearly drunk, he staggered towards Eanflaed and grabbed hold of the counter for support.

"What in the world?" Eanflaed blurted out, her stern gaze and furrowed brows fixed on the intruder. Her sharp retort was cut short as she recognized the young Dane from Uhtred’s company.

"Oh, I forgot to bring flowers. Isn't it customary to bring flowers for such occasions?" he mumbled, hiccupping, his clouded mismatched eyes boldly meeting Eanflaed's.

"What are you doing here?" Eanflaed demanded, eyeing him critically from head to toe.

Sihtric felt a sobering jolt from Eanflaed’s tone. Despite his drunken state, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. What was he doing here, indeed? He wasn't even sure how he had managed to find his way here in his current condition.

Compelled by the fear of encountering you again, he had stealthily slipped away under the cover of night, heading to the inn where Uhtred had secured rooms for them. There, he had joined the few remaining guests in their drinking. The ale had bolstered his courage, fueling his burning need for answers, and his legs had unwittingly led him here.

That brief moment the previous evening, when your eyes had met his, had unsettled him deeply. The surprise and pain etched on your face as you looked at him had caused him to nearly stumble and drop the girl he was holding. Why had you looked at him that way? Weren't you supposed to be happy and content, ready to start your new life without any place for his unrequited affection?

"I'm not sure," he mumbled, his momentary boldness fading into abashment.

"After what you did yesterday, you have the nerve to come here asking for her? You... you drunken fool," Eanflaed said, her voice rising in anger as she dropped the rag she was using to clean the counter. She advanced towards Sihtric, her smaller stature no match for her palpable fury. Sihtric instinctively began to retreat until he backed into a bench and clumsily sat down, trying to avoid tumbling over it, his warrior’s poise nowhere to be seen under Eanflaed’s fiery gaze.

"I don't know what tales you spun before leaving, but she waited for you all these long months. And just yesterday, she rejected a marriage proposal because of you. Do you grasp that, you fucking fool? She rejected Sigefried and ran off just to see you parade off with Ealfwin, ignoring her as if she were a complete stranger. And now you want to talk to her?" Eanflaed hurled her words at Sihtric with the force of thrown stones, growing louder as she jabbed her finger into Sihtric's chest.

"She did what?" Sihtric's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape as he stared at the angry small woman before him. Her words had sobered him like a bucket of cold water on his head and in that moment Sihtric wished for nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "By the gods, what a fool I am," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Leave now, or I'll call the town guards, and you can sober up in the sheriff's cell," Eanflaed threatened.

"Wait, please, let me explain," Sihtric pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I don’t want your excuses. Just leave! I won’t let you disrupt her life again. She might be reconciling with Sigefried as we speak..."

"I saw them! Yesterday, before coming here. I witnessed the proposal," Sihtric interjected, his voice rising in frustration. "I love her, I came back for her but I thought I stood no chance against him. I wanted to spare her the burden of remembering me. I never imagined she might still care."

"Oh, boy," Eanflaed sighed, her anger subsiding as she slumped onto the bench beside Sihtric. "That explains Ealfwin's odd night with you."

"What should I do?" There was such a despair in Sihtric’s voice that Eanflaed unwillingly felt sympathy with the boy. “Where is she? Please, I need to see her,” he pleaded.

"She's gone to speak with Sigefried," Eanflaed replied reluctantly, watching Sihtric's shoulders slump in defeat. After a moment, she added, "I’ll tell her you were here asking for her. But that’s all I’ll do. It’s up to her whether she wants to see you or not."

"Please, tell her I'll be at the White Goose inn, upstairs, last room on the left. I'll wait for her," Sihtric said, a hint of hope flickering in his voice.

—--------------------------------------------------

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Sihtric said, taking a hesitant step back to let you into the room. A timid smile touched his lips. As you stepped inside, removing the hood of your cloak, your eyes took in the modest yet orderly room. Sihtric shut the door and faced you, his fingers nervously running through his hair while his gaze fell to his feet. "I... I..." he faltered.

"I honestly don't know why I'm here," you admitted, surprised at the calmness of your voice despite your heart pounding wildly in your chest. What were you doing here? You hadn't intended to come. When Eanflaed had conveyed to you Sihtric’s message, you knew instantly it wasn't a good idea, you knew it was only going to hurt and you had decided against it.

It's no use crying over spilled milk, you had told yourself as you headed towards the small street leading to your home. You rented a tiny attic room in an old, crooked house, owned by a landlady as aged and bent as the building itself. Evening was drawing near, and after last sleepless night, you longed for some rest before tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The word struck you like a bolt, a piercing realisation. Tomorrow was your wedding day. The cool autumn air filled your lungs, each season with its unique aroma, but autumn's – with its scents of rain, fallen leaves, and chimney smoke – was your favourite.

Faint, hazy memories of a warm fireplace in a spacious room and the comforting chatter of gathered people lingered at the edge of your consciousness, as you slowly wandered along the empty and quiet streets of the drowsy town. Your yearning for sleep had slowly vanished. Tonight, nobody awaited you at home, a fact that would change tomorrow. Everything would be different then. But for now, the night was yours – the last night of freedom, the last night you could choose to do whatever you wished. Slowly lifting your eyes, you found yourself staring in surprise at the sign of the White Goose inn, gently swaying in the breeze above.

You were unsure how you found yourself there, but there you were, almost dreamlike, extending your hand to push open the large wooden doors leading to the noisy, crowded main room. Pulling your cape further over your head, you moved unnoticed through the busy, half-drunk crowd, heading straight for the stairs.

“Last room on the left,” you murmured to yourself, repeating Eanflaed’s words. Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, resonating through you like a bizarre war drum. “What am I doing here?” you questioned yourself yet again, halting before the door. Nonetheless, your hand seemed to move on its own, lifted as if by an unseen force, and three loud knocks rang out.

You gasped in surprise as the door swung open almost instantly, cutting off the sound of your last knock. You were met by the deep, slightly startled gaze of two mismatched eyes.

Sihtric’s voice was as soft and melodic as you remembered. “At least that hasn’t changed,” you thought fleetingly, as you stepped inside, only for the sound of the door closing behind you, sharp like the snap of a trap, to jolt you back to the reality, the sheer absurdity of the situation you had just brought yourself into washing over you like a rainstorm.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” you stammered, trying to edge past Sihtric in a quick movement back toward the door.

He hadn’t expected this. After spending hours and hours pacing his small room, he had finally lost all hope of you showing up. Muffled curses and groans kept rolling over his lips as the shadows lengthened with the setting sun, his arms alternating between clasping his head and hanging listlessly at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching, fingers raking through his hair or covering his face in frustration. The knock had taken him by surprise, standing by the door, rhythmically bumping his head against the wall, his elbows propped against it, fingers interlocked behind his head.

He had yanked the door open, fueled by frustration, only to be completely caught off guard by the sight of you standing there, your hand still raised from the last knock. Fighting the impulse to pinch himself, to verify that he wasn't dreaming, Sihtric watched you hesitantly stepping into the room. His gaze fell to the floor, while his mind scrambled for something coherent to say. Throughout the long hours of waiting, he had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, imagining all the things he wanted to say, just to find his mind empty as a blank sheet of parchment.

His gaze still fixed on his feet, Sihtric almost didn't notice your sudden dash for the door. You were close to escaping, your hand nearly grasping the handle, when he realised your intent to flee and instinctively reached out, catching your arm and turning you around. You attempted to pull away, struggling to free yourself from his grip, but in the rush, Sihtric made another step toward you, and suddenly, you found yourself pressed against the door, his towering figure looming over you.

“Please, don’t go,” Sihtric’s voice was deep and hoarse, a noticeable tremor running through it. His eyes finally met yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders, immediately feeling you tense up, panic and fear evident in your wide-open eyes. It was a look he recognized all too well, one he had seen too often, but never expected to be directed at him. Yet, there you were, staring back with a deepening darkness in your eyes and quickening breath.

"I’m sorry," he quickly stepped back, letting go of you and raising his hands as if in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I…I’m getting this all wrong, aren't I? Please, just don't go yet. Give me a moment," the pleading tone in his voice washed over you, but amidst your rising anxiety, you barely absorbed his words.

Averting your gaze and driven by instinctive fear, you reached behind your back, your hand frantically searching for the life-saving door handle. Your fingers finally found it, gripping it tightly, poised to push it down and open your path to escape as you looked back up at Sihtric and froze, surprised by the lost, sorrowful expression on his face, his large, expressive eyes shining with warm tenderness. There he was, the same insecure, alarmed boy, who had so trustfully followed you, squeezing your hand in his sweaty palm, his anxiety barely concealed.

"I won't hold you back. If you want to leave, you can," he stated, stepping further back, giving you ample space, as if to emphasise the truth in his words. His gaze remained intently on you, earnest and unwavering. "You are safe with me. I'll never hurt you, you know that? Never."

Your expression softened, and the fear in you slowly ebbed away. You let your arms fall to your sides, though your chest continued to rise and fall quickly as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. Time seemed to stretch out, the two of you locked in a silent gaze, the air around you thick with unspoken words and anticipation.

"What do you want from me?" you found the courage to break the silence.

"I missed you," came Sihtric’s immediate response. "Every single day since I left, you’ve been on my mind. I couldn't escape the thought of you."

"Then why…" you began, but Sihtric quickly cut you off.

"I saw you with Sigefried," he blurted out, his voice unsteady. "I heard his proposal, and then I saw him kiss you…" His voice faltered and broke, pausing for a moment to gather himself. "I... I had brought you flowers, and there he was, offering you a home, a future. I... I didn’t know what to do... I…" He stumbled over his words, his voice trailing off, as he struggled to continue.

"You brought me flowers?" you asked, a quiver in your voice, recalling your surprise this morning when you had seen the delicate blooms crushed in the dirt outside the alehouse. A sudden moisture gathered in the corners of your eyes, and it took all your willpower to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"Is what Eanflaed said true?" Sihtric's gaze dropped to the floor, and even in the dimming light of the setting sun, you could see his cheeks redden. "She said you waited for me, that you turned him down because of me. Is that true?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Words seemed to lodge in your throat, making it difficult to speak. "Yes, I did," you finally managed, your voice emerging faintly. "But it doesn’t matter now. I accepted Sigefried’s proposal this morning. We’re getting married tomorrow after the morning sermon."

"What? Why?" Sihtric exclaimed, lifting his head, a look of pain crossing his face.

You gazed at him, a sad smile tugging at your lips, still leaning against the door. You wondered if he really expected an answer. He looked striking in the fading sunlight, the sharp contours of his face thrown into relief by the encroaching shadows, his beautiful, captivating eyes locking with yours, making it impossible to look away. A silent curse escaped your lips, your hands slowly balling into fists as you fought to regulate your increasingly shallow breathing. Your cheeks warmed under Sihtric’s intense gaze, a familiar heat spreading from your stomach through your veins, tingling every cell in your body, clouding your thoughts.

There was a part of you that knew there was nothing more to be said, it was time to leave, a distant voice in your consciousness urged you to go. Instead you straightened up, stepping away from the door, and hesitantly moved towards Sihtric. With each step, the distance between you lessened until you were standing right in front of him. Your hand trembled as you reached up, gently cradling his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing his lower lip.

"Thank you for the flowers," you whispered softly.

"But, I didn’t..." Sihtric began in a hushed tone.

"You are the first one," you gently cut him off, a tender yet sad smile on your lips, "The only one who ever thought to bring me flowers."

Closing his eyes, Sihtric leaned into your touch, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his cheek, a deep sigh escaping him. In that moment, he seemed to straddle the line between boyhood and manhood, like a young soul yearning for love and affection, yet hesitant to fully express it for fear of exposing his innate kindness as a vulnerability.

"I… I shouldn’t be here..." you stammered, your resolve wavering.

"Stay… please, stay with me," Sihtric's plea was soft, his other hand gently cupping your cheek, drawing you closer. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving you the chance to pull away if you wished.

You wanted to turn away, to step back and withdraw. It wasn't Sihtric's hold that restrained you – his touch was so featherlight and delicate that you could have easily slipped away at any moment. It was your own body that betrayed you, refusing to comply. With your eyes closed, you felt Sihtric’s lips tentatively meet yours, grazing them in an almost imperceptible touch, his breath warm and trembling against your skin.

“I can’t,” you murmured softly against his lips, but the involuntary whimper that followed told a different story. Despite your words, your hands seemed to act of their own accord, as they found their way to Sihtric’s neck, then upwards, weaving into his hair. The fervour with which you responded to his kiss, parting your lips in an eager, almost desperate need to taste him, betrayed the falsehood in your words.

Emboldened by your response, Sihtric deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. And this time he knew exactly what he was doing, his movements were assured, his lips moving over yours with purpose. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, teasing and exploring, savouring the moment.

Your senses reeled. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips pressed against yours, his tongue entwining with yours, the mingling of your breaths, ignited a fire within you that you could no longer contain or deny. You kissed him back passionately, desperately, matching the intensity of his own need.

Sihtric let out a soft moan as you gently bit his lower lip, stirring sweet memories of your first time together. His hands cradled your face, drawing you closer to his eager yet tender lips. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and quick, and you felt utterly swamped by the intoxicating depth of his kiss, wishing this moment would last forever, that his lips would never part from yours, his hands never release you.

Your fingers began to fumble with the laces of his armour, impatient and desirous they tugged at the fastenings and Sihtric helped you to free him from the layers of the thick leather that kept your heated bodies apart.

"May I?" he asked, his hands hovering over the laces of your dress. You smiled, recalling how you had once asked him the same question.

"Yes, please," you responded, your voice quivering with anticipation. You held your breath as Sihtric's rough fingers began to undo your simple dress, first brushing it off your shoulders, then tracing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. With a firm tug, the dress fell to your feet, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric that made you blush.

Sihtric's palms cupped your face again, and he pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want me?" he whispered, his voice husky and slightly hoarse, his breath unsteady.

"Yyyes, I do," you whispered back. That was the undeniable truth, the sole clear thought in your mind. You wanted him, needed him, like a budding flower needs the rain. Yes, tomorrow everything would change, everything would be different. Tomorrow you would be married, embarking on a new life, but tonight, you were here and you were his and only his.

The soft moan that escaped Sihtric as he claimed your lips again in a gentle yet urgent kiss sent a flutter through you. Sihtric continued to cover your face with soft kisses, starting from your forehead, then moving to your cheeks, and finally trailing down to your jawline. His large hands settled on your hips, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as his hips gently rocked against yours, letting you feel his fully hard cock. “Do you want all of me?” he asked again.

Throughout your life, you had encountered many men, but none had ever made you feel as desired, cherished, and loved as Sihtric did at this moment. And never had you yearned for someone as intensely as you yearned for him now. It wasn't just lust or affection for this young man clouding your thoughts; it was something deeper, a profound and new sensation unfurling within you, so intense it was almost frightening.

“Please, say it. I need to hear it,” he urged, his voice strained between heavy breaths.

“I do, I want you, all of you, every part of you,” you moaned hungrily, your by now completely soaked pussy throbbing for him as your fingers went down to the laces of his breeches, unfastening them quickly, slipping inside and wrapping around his hard length, giving it a needy stroke.

Sihtric groaned, his hands quickly gathering your undergarments, pushing them up your hips and smoothly lifting them over your head in one fluid motion. His arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders again, pulling you close to his bare chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, seeping into your skin as his mouth traced a path from your jaw down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses and gently nipping at your skin. A loud whine escaped you, your skin tingling under the heat of his touch.

Sihtric placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pressed against his broad chest, your arms encircling his neck, marvelling at his strength. He carried you easily, without any sign of strain, and gently laid you down on his bed.

You quickly scrambled up to your knees and reached for his waist, pulling down his breeches and freeing his fully hard cock. You licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke and moving your head closer to his dripping tip. Sihtric’s head snapped back as he groaned loudly at your touch, but his hand firmly took hold of your chin, stopping you.

“This time it’s my turn,” he said firmly, his eyes looking down at you dark with lust. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, gently pushing you back on the bed, moving his body over you and settling between your legs as he started placing soft kisses down your neck.

He paused at your breasts, suckling slightly at your hard nipples, before going further down, each sloppy open mouthed kiss making you writhe beneath him. Muffled whines rolled over your lips as he continued kissing his way down to your belly, until he reached your pulsing core and the first lap of his tongue over your folds made you arch your back and dig your nails into the mattress, a heavy moan escaping you.

“Oh God, it feels so good,” you whined, and Sihtric let out a satisfied groan, his hot breath tickling you and making the pleasure even more intense. His hands were on your hips, keeping you firmly in place, as he sucked hard at your clit and circled it with his tongue. You felt your climax building up quickly, each lap of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whined and whimpered, rocking your hips against him, mewling his name and begging him not to stop and the moment he pushed his tongue inside you, you felt a hot wave of pure bliss washing over you. Everything around you faded away, consumed by the inferno of ecstasy running through your veins and burning everything in its path, erasing all your doubts and possible regrets.

Sihtric let you savour your high, his tongue gently lapping over your clit, waiting until your body stopped shaking. "Was I good?" he asked, as he moved back on top of you, a slightly sheepish look on his face paired with a mischievous, boyish glint in his eyes, clearly seeking praise and affirmation.

"Holy shit, you were sinfully good," you exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as you were taken aback by the profanity of your own words. You pulled him into your embrace, your legs wrapping around his waist. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All that was important was the soft press of Sihtric’s lips against yours, the comforting weight of his body pinning you to the mattress, and the delightful sensation of his breath tickling your skin.

“I want you, I want to be inside you, to feel you around me,” Sihtric murmured in your ear, breathing heavily, his hard, leaking cock pressing against your core. “Will you have me?”

“Yes, please! I want you. Oh my God, I need you… I need to feel you again,” you moaned, shamelessly rolling your hips up against him. That was all he needed to hear, and in the next instant he was pushing inside you. His hands firmly grasped your wrists, securing your arms above your head, while he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savouring every scent like a dying man cherishing his final breath.

He pushed into you completely until the very end of his shaft, freezing for a moment. “Gods, how good you feel!” Sihtric groaned against your skin, his lips sliding over your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips impatiently, grinding against him, showing him how much you wanted him, how much you needed him and he instantly got you, starting to move, slowly in the beginning, but fastening his pace with each thrust until he was fucking you relentlessly into the mattress, wild growls rolling over his lips.

You met his thrusts with equal eagerness and passion, moving your hips against him, matching his pace. You felt impossibly light, as if soaring, your body seemingly weightless, free from all worries and sorrows. In that moment, there was no past, no future, just the present, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, even the image of the impending wedding had left you as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure surging within you, consuming all your senses.

Your eyes met Sihtric's, and you revelled in the way he gazed at you with such tender fondness, mixed with an unspoken, elusive depth, the softness in his eyes, a trait you never expected to find in a warrior, making your breath hitching in your throat.

You moaned his name, feeling your orgasm approaching, and dug your nails in his back. “Let go, my love,” Sihtric groaned, pounding into you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Let yourself fly. I want you to cum for me. I want to see you falling apart,” he murmured, reaching between your bodies and pushing his fingers at your clit, rubbing it gently.

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of exhilaration washing over you and then you were falling or maybe flying, you couldn’t tell, as your back arched against the mattress in the most intense orgasm you had ever had. Your walls clenched around Sihtric’s cock and, watching your face lighten up in pure happiness, he followed you spilling deep inside you with a loud groan.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric moaned, crashing against you, and you wrapped your arms around him with a blissful smile gracing your lips.

“Don’t move,” you purred in his ear. “I want to feel you a little bit longer.”

"As long as you want. I don’t want to let go of you, anyway," Sihtric replied with a deep sigh. "I want you to stay here with me. Will you?" The pleading tone of his voice was tinged with uncertainty.

"I will. I'll stay for the night," you whispered, cradling Sihtric’s face in your hands, gazing deeply into his captivating eyes, and sealing your promise with a tender, soft kiss. You held back a sigh that threatened to break free, grateful that the fallen darkness helped you to conceal the tears that shimmered in your eyes from Sihtric’s view.

Sihtric had so much he wanted to tell you. His wish wasn't merely for you to stay the night; he wanted you to stay with him forever. He longed to awaken each morning to your face, to the feeling of your warmth beside him. He told himself there would be time for those words tomorrow, and every day that followed. For now, you were here, with him, and his happiness was too profound for words, his contentment too deep to break the peaceful silence. Gently, he wrapped the blanket around you, just like that first time, and drew you into his embrace. Your back pressed snugly against his chest, your hair spread over the pillow, he inhaled your exhilarating scent and let the comforting fatigue seep into his bones, lulling him into a restful sleep.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric awoke to a strange sense of emptiness and a chill in the air. Instinctively, he reached out, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but his hand met only the cold, thin air. His eyes fluttered open to a room bathed in the golden hues of sun long risen above the horizon. Your scent lingered, yet you were nowhere to be seen.

Leaping out of bed, Sihtric looked around in confusion.

"Damn it, no... it can’t be. Damn it!" he muttered as he paced the room. "Why? Why is she doing this to me?" he groaned, his hands balling into fists. A wave of despair and a sense of profound failure overwhelmed him. What had he done wrong? Did last night mean nothing to you?

Glancing quickly out the window, Sihtric saw the small town coming to life in the new day's light, and his ears picked up the distant sound of church bells ringing. A painful realisation struck him, and he raked his hands through his hair, cursing softly.

"Fuck, no…" Sihtric exclaimed, scrambling to gather his clothes strewn about the room. Dressing himself hastily, he then stormed out of the room and pounded on the door down the corridor with both fists.

"What's going on? Sihtric, have you lost your mind?" Uhtred's sleepy face appeared in the doorway.

"Lord, I need your permission. I need your permission to marry," Sihtric nearly shouted, and Uhtred's annoyed expression shifted to one of complete amusement.

"You want to marry? Now? Are you drunk?"

"Yes, lord. No, lord. Now, or it will be too late," Sihtric implored, desperation in his voice. "I've been too late twice already. I can’t miss another chance."

"Wait, slow down! Explain what's happening," Uhtred said, fully opening the door and gesturing for Sihtric to come in.

"Lord…" Sihtric began to protest, but a stern look from Uhtred halted him. With a heavy sigh, Sihtric stepped inside.

—------------------------------------------------

"Should anyone here know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest intoned, and you held your breath in anxious anticipation.

Stealing a glance beneath your lashes, you looked hesitantly at Sigefried beside you. His gaze was locked on the priest, not on you, his fingers tapping against his palm with an air of impatience, as if eager for the ceremony to conclude.

A wave of nausea began to stir in your stomach. Was this the right decision? Was there even such a thing as a right decision? Your feelings for Sihtric were undeniable – profound and inexplicable, intense beyond words. Yet here you were, at the altar.

The hardest part had been slipping away from Sihtric's warm embrace. You had shifted carefully to free yourself from his hold, withdrawing your breath as it seemed you had awakened him. He had moved closer momentarily, his arm tightening around you. You waited, but his steady and rhythmic breathing soon told you he was still asleep.

Finally out of bed, the cool air bit against your naked skin. You quickly picked up your clothes, and dressed. You were already at the door, your hand reaching out for the handle, as you stopped and turned, casting one last look at Sihtric. He appeared so peaceful, content, and serene in the ethereal light of the dawn's first rays, looking so young and innocent, like a prince from a fairy tale. But as much as you wished for it, this fairy tale couldn’t have a happy ending.

You couldn’t stay. Despite the ache in your heart, it was impossible. He was from a different world, he was a stranger, a passer by in your life. The events of the past days had made that painfully evident.

Today he was here with you, but tomorrow he would leave again, bound to follow his lord wherever fate led. What would remain for you? Only waiting. An endless, uncertain wait, shrouded in doubt and suspense, without even knowing its purpose. His absence turning into eternity you would never know whether it was because his gods had called him from this world or because he had chosen to marry and settle down with someone else. And nobody would ever tell you, for you were not a part of his world.

You struggled to contain the tears welling up, but realising there was no one around to witness them, you allowed them to flow freely as you gently closed the door behind you. As much as it tore at your heart, you were grateful to fate for having your paths crossed with this sweet, passionate, and kindhearted young warrior. He had awakened emotions within you that you were certain would stay with you for the rest of your life, giving you warmth and strength to face what you must do.

"Please face each other and join hands," the priest's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, and you turned towards your soon-to-be husband, extending your trembling hands. A shy smile touched your lips, but it failed to reach your eyes, where tears shimmered.

The priest drew breath, and opened his mouth to speak as a loud voice suddenly cut through the air "I object!" echoed through the vast hall and a figure blocked the light streaming through the open doors of the church. You flinched, as if stung, immediately recognizing the voice. Panic welled up inside you as you turned, already knowing who you would see, the voice having been unmistakably familiar.

Why was he doing this? Was it an act of revenge for wounded pride? Was he about to reveal that you had spent the night with him, just to shame you? Could he really be that heartless? Questions fluttered through your mind like alarmed birds as you saw three men, three warriors, stride down the church aisle, stopping just before you.

The priest shifted nervously, his robe rustling in the sudden, uneasy silence. No one spoke. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze, acutely feeling the stares of Sigefried and the few witnesses he had brought, as if they were piercing through you.

"I object," Sihtric repeated, this time more quietly, a strange tremor in his voice.

"What matter do you wish to raise, young man?" the priest inquired, casting nervous glances at the three men, his eyes widening with apprehension upon noticing Thor's hammer around the necks of two of them.

"You can't marry him," Sihtric said, now addressing you directly. His voice was soft, almost imploring, devoid of any malice or anger. Sigefried cleared his throat, seemingly about to interject. He moved a step towards Sihtric, but the firm stares from Uhtred and Finan caused him to reconsider, and he stepped back silently.

"Why?" your question emerged as a faint whisper under your breath as you still didn’t dare to raise your eyes.

"Because I love you," Sihtric's answer struck you like a bolt from the blue.

"You love me?" you echoed, the concept feeling foreign and almost unreal. Love was a notion that had seemed absent from your life. Even recognising the feelings you had for Sihtric you had never dared to call them love. Could it truly have a place now? You lifted your eyes, meeting Sihtric’s earnest gaze.

"I love you and I know that you love me too, even if you try to hide it. Can you deny it?," Sihtric’s voice resonated with unwavering certainty, free of any doubt or hesitation, as he knelt before you, extending his arm towards you. "I may not have much to offer, but I offer you my hand, my heart, and the promise that I will love you until my last breath. Will you marry me?"

You struggled to speak, but a lump in your throat rendered you silent. The church was steeped in a suffocating silence, and you stared down at Sihtric in disbelief. His gaze was steady, his hand outstretched and waiting.

Inside, Sihtric’s heart pounded at an alarming rate. He summoned all his willpower to appear calm and composed, concealing the storm of emotions within, striving to keep his outstretched hand from trembling. As the silence stretched, doubts began to cloud his mind. Had he been mistaken all along? Had he seen only what he longed to see, even if it wasn't true? Was he merely deceived by his own foolish heart, seeking love and acceptance in a place where none existed? His eyes darkened with shades of doubt and disillusion.

“Yes, I will,” your words emerged as a faint whisper, a light breeze carrying the soft clang of your shaking voice, yet he heard them. Those three words seemed to breathe life back into Sihtric, his eyes brightening with hope and happiness.

“Yes, yes! Oh my God, Sihtric, I love you! I will! I will marry you!” You found your voice again, repeating the words, thrilled by their sound. You placed your trembling hand in Sihtric’s, seeking stability as the world seemed to spin around you. In seconds, Sihtric was on his feet, closing the gap between you, wrapping you in his embrace, showering your face with kisses.

“I knew it, I knew you loved me. I saw it in your beautiful eyes. I could feel it, ” he murmured into your ear.

“Hey, priest, snap out of it. We’ve got a wedding to conduct,” Uhtred’s distant voice seemed to come from another realm. You looked up at Sihtric questioningly, only to be met with his reassuring smile.

“I will marry you here before your God, and when we return to Cochem, I’ll marry you again before my gods. Nothing in this world or the next will ever tear us apart.”

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