#can let him get rid of the anxiety and nightmares

[gunstellations]

gentle mornings

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even. 

Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether. 

But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames. 

“I—” he mumbles. 

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try. 

But the thought doesn’t last long.

You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight. 

Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you. 

But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him. 

You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.

Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.

The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table. 

This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.

His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it. 

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live. 

You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible. 

“___.”

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”

“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in. 

Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him. 

But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit. 

Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay. 

You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that. 

Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go. 

You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.

You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.

“___.”

“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.

“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.

You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.

Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.

“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly. 

He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.

“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading. 

You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic. 

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”

You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you. 

Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”

“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.

“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”

“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”

Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him. 

Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around. 

He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you. 

He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.

Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.

But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.

“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.

“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”

“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”

“What?”

“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”

Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.

Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough. 

He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.

Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.

As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely. 

The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.

At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that. 

Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through. 

Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much. 

You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces. 

“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.

“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”

“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.

“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”

You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.

“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”

“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.” 

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”

Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.

“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”

You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.

“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”

“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”

Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you. 

As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.

You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back. 

But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”

“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.

You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”

The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart. 

You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last. 

There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.

All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful. 

“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”

“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize. 

Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice. 

“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”

“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”

“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”

“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”

“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”

“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”

It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks. 

The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for. 

You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to. 

Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.

“I���m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”

It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time. 

You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day. 

After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you. 

What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is? 

You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.

Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.

Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him. 

That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish. 

During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him. 

You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there. 

But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more. 

Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind. 

But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you. 

Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse. 

“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks. 

“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”

“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror. 

You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building. 

The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already. 

“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”

“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.

“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.

But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear. 

He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours. 

His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all. 

He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything. 

It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.

He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place. 

You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did. 

But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.

Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too. 

And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all. 

But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it. 

You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end. 

The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table. 

There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.

“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”

“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”

You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you say softly.  

“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”

“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”

“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”

Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.

“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”

You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks. 

“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”

“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”

“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”

“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration. 

But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.

“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”

“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”

“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”

“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”

You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.

“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”

Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed. 

Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe. 

He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place. 

Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.

It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing. 

But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away? 

The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.

The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.

He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.

“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”

It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again. 

Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.

And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.

He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same. 

It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.

The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.

But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.

“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away. 

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”

“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.

It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.

“I was rushing,” he explains. 

You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work. 

It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible. 

You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after. 

Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.

Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.

“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?” 

His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.

You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.

Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out. 

“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.

“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”

As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”

“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.

But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.

Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour. 

He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.

“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.

“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”

His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected. 

“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.

“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him. 

But still, you don’t.

“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.

“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.

So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad. 

“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod. 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.

“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”

“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you. 

“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”

You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing. 

“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout. 

“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”

“Neither am I.”

Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race. 

He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more. 

“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.

“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty. 

“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”

“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”

You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.

“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.

Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you. 

“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly. 

The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides. 

“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.

He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours. 

He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.

You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table. 

He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk. 

Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.

Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned. 

This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything. 

But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.

“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”

You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now. 

His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.

“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.” 

“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.

“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”

The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you. 

He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.

“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”

“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do. 

He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to. 

“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”

Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought. 

You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference. 

“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.” 

His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do. 

“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”

This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him. 

He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.

“___, please. I just want to be with you.”

It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.

Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”

With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again. 

Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle. 

He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.

You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier. 

You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.

It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened. 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you. 

And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away. 

Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him. 

Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around. 

You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye. 

You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted. 

You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life. 

Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you. 

You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy. 

He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you. 

You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.

He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.

They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you. 

You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did. 

You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered? 

Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes. 

He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay. 

He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor. 

This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.

He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go. 

Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around. 

He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too. 

His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away. 

The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it. 

At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.

Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered. 

“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.

It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today. 

Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.

They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.

With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake. 

“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?” 

“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea. 

“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”

“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”

Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.

“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”

“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”

“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean. 

He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.

“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”

You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from. 

You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.

Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder. 

You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to. 

So you give Mr. Ri permission. 

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”

Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now. 

“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”

“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.

“I did. She also told me what happened.”

“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”

Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.

“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”

“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”

“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”

“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”

“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”

The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.

But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.

“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”

It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?

“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.  

“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”

Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life. 

The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time. 

Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before. 

“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”

“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”

“She— what?” 

Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years. 

“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”

“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.” 

“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”

The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other. 

“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”

She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there. 

“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”

As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks. 

“Did… did he hurt them?”

“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree. 

“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times. 

“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”

The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran.  The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.” 

Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”

Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own. 

But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.

“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe. 

“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”

“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying. 

“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you. 

“Did she know? And did she love you back?”

“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders. 

“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.

“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”

It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.

“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.

“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”

“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”

“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”

“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father. 

“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”

At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”

“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable. 

And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?

It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?

The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way. 

He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too. 

“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”

“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”

“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”

“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride. 

The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him. 

“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.

“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”

“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”

“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”

Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.

They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.

His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years. 

The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.

It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone. 

“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks. 

“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”

“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”

“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”

The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.

“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”

“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”

“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.

“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.

“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well. 

“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”

“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”

“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”

There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on. 

“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”

Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind. 

Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.

There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.

Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.

He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.

He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life. 

You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too. 

You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now. 

But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well. 

Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you. 

It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well. 

You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most. 

Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.

“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”

“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes. 

“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.

“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.

“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?” 

There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way. 

He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.

You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for  beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him. 

He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.

You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away. 

You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place. 

Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all. 

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[princessbrunette]

after a long and traumatic week, seeing and experiencing dreadful things — puppy!reader gets into the habit of needing john b to rock her to sleep. every night.

if he doesn’t, there’s tears — and bless your heart he understands. before these few weeks, he’d managed to protect you from it all. being shot at, stumbling on skeletons and dead bodies all for the sake of finding the next clue for the treasure that seemed so far away. at the time, and for your safety he had to bring you along — but as he watches your lip curl over, clinging to his chest back at the chateau — he regrets not finding a way around it.

“well sleep is important, bubba. you need rest.” he stresses, trying to ease you into relaxing as you argue against him. “c’mon. i know you’re tired. i can tell.”

“but i know i’m going to have a nightmare again! ugh.” in a moment of stress, you softly bury yourself into his arm, sinking teeth gently into his tanned bicep.

“noooo you won’t.” he croons in that comforting deep voice of his, slotting his hand between your face and his arm so that he can stroke your cheek with his thumb until you ease up on your bite. you huff, flopping back into his arms dramatically like you’d died mid conversation and he smiles, softly manhandling you until you’re lying directly on his chest. “i’ll tell you why you’re not gonna have any nightmares, pup. it’s because i’m gonna be riiight here. all night. you’re gonna get all hot and bothered and wish that you had your own bed, seriously.” he keeps his tone lighthearted as you get comfortable, but his face falls when he hears you sniffle. “hey, i know.” he acknowledges solemnly, kissing the top of your head.

“jus’ nervous.” you slur, muffled into the fabric of his shirt and he nods in understanding. without thinking much of it, john b starts to sway your body left to right, gently rocking you to attempt to halt your tears. after a moment, you seem to quieten down. “keep doing that.” you rasp after a few minutes, barely awake.

“mhm.” he hums, trying not to disturb you as much as possible with his response, continuing to rock you in his arms. for the first time in a while, you sleep soundly — with no bad dreams.

because of the success in john b’s new technique — you started to require it every night. as soon as you feel the tiredness creep up on you, you’re crawling into his lap, making a rocking motion with your body to communicate what you want. doing this every night might become tiresome to some, but your boyfriend was filled with guilt — accidentally putting you in such dangerous scenarios lately that your body was now riddled with anxiety, needing the gentle motion in order to have a stress free sleep. whatever he could do to help you, to rid himself of the guilt — he would comply.

occasionally, you had required this treatment during a nap in the middle of the day too — straddling him on the couch with the shy request.

“get on in here.” he opens his arms to wrap around you, letting you burrow down into him. as soon as he begins to rock you side to side, your brain starts to power down, even able to partially ignore jj when he loudly strolls in, aware of your habits.

“damn, it’s rockin’ time already? a little early.” the blonde converses casually making the brunette frown and wave one arm at him.

“shh, but yes. yes it is.”

unable to control his behaviour, maybank begins to dance, moonwalking across the wooden panels of the chateau floor. “i wanna rock with you, alllll night.” he sings, making you groggily lift your head to blink an eye at him.

“are you done?” john b deadpans.

“oh hey there sleepy-pooch. my bad, go ‘head and take that nap.” jj busies himself with a beer bottle, grabbing it to settle down with on the couch, eyes latching onto the tv.

you’re fast asleep in a matter of minutes, the gentle humming of the tv mixing with the sounds of your soft snores. “damn, she’s out like that already? guess they found the cure to insomnia. hey, can i try next?” jj teases, lifting the bottle to his lips making the brunette shake his head, not even bothering to glance away from the tv.

“would you shut-up? maybe?” he mumbles in careless retaliation, just happy his sweet pup was getting the rest she deserves.

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Room Away (No More)

Part 2 of A Room Away

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!roommate!reader

Summary: Your abusive ex reaches out, and you hide it from Tim until it's almost too late.

Warnings: angst, domestic violence, abuse, assault, anxiety/panic attacks, fluff and a happy ending guaranteed!!

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

A/N: A Room Away is one of the first Tim fics I wrote and it took me a few months, but I loved writing this continuation! I hope you enjoy!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim’s thumb brushes back and forth over a nearly invisible scar on your arm as you wait for your dinner guests. Remembering that it has been days since your last nightmare and nearly a week without a migraine makes you smile, and Tim glances at you but doesn’t ask any questions. The doorbell rings and he grumbles under his breath as he leaves your side. As he opens the door to invite Angela and Wesley in, your phone vibrates beside you. Tim is giving Angela a hard time, as usual, and you take the moment when her attention isn’t on you to read the new text.

Unknown There is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.

The sentence is familiar, too familiar. You read the message again, and before you finish another comes through.

Unknown Los Angeles isn’t big enough to hide you from me.

“Are you okay?” Angela asks.

You lock your phone quickly and clear your throat before you look up at her and nod. The message repeats over and over in your head. Your phone may not know who sent the text, but you do, and knowing that your ex is in the same city as you terrifies you. Deep down, you know you should tell Tim, but you can’t.

“How’s Timothy treating you?” Angela adds.

She sits beside you, and you try to forget about the text for now. “He still won’t reduce my rent,” you complain jokingly.

Tim watches you from his spot in the kitchen. The last few weeks have been good. Your nightmares are becoming less frequent, you let Tim touch you without flinching or panicking, but the look on your face right now isn’t right.

“How are things?” Wesley asks. “Need a prenup, yet?”

“Funny, Wesley,” Tim replies without looking away from you. “I hope Angela cleans you out in the divorce.”

“He can keep the kids,” Angela adds from beside you.

“Good luck getting rid of me,” Wesley says. He lowers his voice and turns away from Angela to ask, “Seriously, Tim, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good, great even. I just don’t want to do anything that makes us go backward.”

“Abusive relationships are hard to get over, but you’re helping her with that, Tim.”

“I hope so.”

“Wasn’t a question, Sergeant.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he puts your favorite food on a plate. It isn’t often that Angela and Wesley come over, but right now, Tim wishes he was alone with you so he could check on you. You don’t seem to hide things from him on purpose, and he understands the time it takes to trust people after having your trust betrayed and being abused. He’ll never push, but the moment you pull, he’s there. Never more than a phone call or a room away.

“Here you go,” Tim murmurs as he passes you a plate.

Your shoulders tense as he nears you but drop just as quickly. The jumpiness is something that was completely gone just yesterday, and Tim furrows his brows as he watches you accept the plate and look out the window. He runs a finger over your jawline to bring your attention back to him, and you smile at him.

“You alright?” he asks.

It seems to be everyone’s question tonight, and you once again lie, “Yeah.”

Tim nods and you thank him for the food before moving to sit by Angela. With his eyes on you throughout dinner, Tim decides that something is wrong, and he needs to get to the bottom of it. You open up as the night continues, yet when Angela and Wesley leave, you fall silent as you clear the table.

“Hey,” Tim calls softly.

He wraps a kind hand around your wrist to stop you, and you flinch away from him involuntarily. Tim raises his hands, and you drop your chin toward your chest and fight the tears threatening to spill. You’re scared because of the text, but that is no reason to move away from Tim. As you struggle not to panic, Tim whispers that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.

Tim shakes his head to remind you that you never have to apologize. You step closer and pinch his shirt between your fingers before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Strong arms settle over your back, and you push your cheek over Tim’s heart.

“I’m just feeling off, or something,” you say. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Tim hums and moves a hand to brush your hair away from your face. He won’t agree not to worry about you, and it’s too late to pretend like he’s not already doing just that.

The next few days pass slowly, and as you continue to spend more time at home, Tim’s concerns grow. You’re up and moving around, so it’s not a migraine, but you haven’t worked more than eight hours in three days. Every time Tim sees you at home, he hugs you, kisses you, and silently reminds you that he’s right beside you, but you keep up your act that nothing is wrong. It’s a failing façade, though, and you’re just waiting to break.

When you wake just after 1 in the morning, you can’t stop the scream that escapes. Your ex was in your room, in Tim’s home, and when he was done with you he was going to cross the hall and do the same to Tim. Of all the nightmares you’ve had, seeing Tim moments away from being hurt was the scariest of them all. You pull your knees up to your chest and drop your head as you sob, your panicked scream making way for the fear you’ve been burying since you got the text.

Tim comes in without question or knocking, and when your door hits the wall, you lift your head and flinch to the other side of your bed. At the sight of Tim, however, you launch yourself toward him and let him pull you close. You cry against his chest as he whispers comforting promises, but the only thing that helps you is the tangible reminder that he is safe. You tell yourself over and over, clutch his shirt, and listen to his heartbeat. He’s safe, and he won’t let anything happen to either one of us.

As he holds you, Tim keeps you as close as possible. He knows that you shouldn’t ask questions now. Not that you’d give him an honest answer anyway, he thinks. Whatever you’ve been hiding is making you scared, and it breaks Tim’s heart to see you affected this way. Waking up to your scream scared him, so he can only imagine what must be going through your mind.

Unknown I saw the planetarium today. Can you see it from your new home?

Unknown Met a girl in the supermarket who looked like you. But I won’t settle for second best.

Unknown Clues, clues, clues. Am I getting closer, baby?

With each new text you receive, you have to talk yourself out of running from Tim. You don’t want to pull away from him, but you constantly worry that if you’re found, Tim will be in danger, too. A knock on your door draws your attention away from the newest message, and Tim smiles when you meet his eyes.

“Want to go to lunch? Just us?” he offers.

You should say no, but you nod before standing. Nothing bad can happen in public, and being beside Tim is the safest place to be, you think. Even as you try to convince yourself that going to lunch will be fine, you can feel the fear and anxiety building in your chest. It weighs down on you and makes it hard to breathe, so you measure each breath and focus on Tim instead of the adrenal responses flooding your body.

Tim turns into a random subdivision and slows down. You raise your brows and look at him, but he only offers a hand extended over the console. When you lay your hand over his, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls your hand closer to him. He makes another turn, and you realize that he’s not taking a shortcut to the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” you inquire quietly.

“I don’t want to push you too hard or too soon,” he says. “But something is bothering you, and I can’t help if you stop talking to me.”

“Tim, I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll pass.”

“What will pass? Pushing me away and blocking me out won’t fix whatever is happening!”

“And telling you will?” you ask. You’re getting defensive because you’re scared, and you try to pull your hand away so you can stop talking to him.

“Why did you ever let me in if it was just going to end like this? I’m with you, but why can’t you trust me enough to tell you what’s making you scream in the middle of the night and jump when I walk up behind you?”

“Because he can threaten me all he wants, but I don’t want Brent to find you too!” you snap.

“Brent?” Tim asks lowly. He pulls his hand away and sets his jaw to ask, “Brent who?”

You shrink in the passenger seat and whisper his last name. Tim’s brakes squeal as he presses the pedal to the floor and parks on the side of the road. You can tell without looking at him that he’s angry, and you slipping up and saying your ex’s name certainly didn’t help.

“Get out,” Tim orders.

“Are you serious?” you whisper brokenly.

“Out of my truck. Now.”

You slide out of the passenger seat and close the door behind you. Tears have been building in your eyes for a week, and you let them fall freely now. You’re scared and hurting, but Tim refuses to look at you as you stand on the curb.

“Tim, please don’t do this,” you plead through the rolled-down window.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when he shifts the truck back into drive, you know he’s serious about leaving you here.

“Tim, please!” you beg through your tears.

“Go home,” he says over the engine.

The truck pulls away from the curb where you stand, and you harshly wipe your tears away to clear your vision. As you dig for your phone, you know it’s time to take Angela up on her offer. She said to call if Tim was ever mean to you, and you think leaving you on the side of the road counts.

Tim turns around in a nearby cul-de-sac and parks behind a tree where you can’t see him, but he can keep an eye on you. He’s angry and needed a second to calm down, but he never intended to leave you. He sighs as he types the name of your ex into his phone. He’ll ask Angela to run it later. When Tim looks back up at you, you have your back to him, and your phone raised to your ear. Your shoulders shake as you cry, and Tim taps his knuckles against his steering wheel. He made you cry this time, and though he’s glad to have a few answers, he wishes this wasn’t how he got them.

After moving in, you confided in Tim that Angela told you to call her if he was ever mean to you. When her car pulls up and you climb into the passenger seat, Tim shakes his head fondly. You’re mad at him, but you’re still perfect in his eyes. Now that he knows you’re safe, Tim decides to stop by the station and do some digging on your ex.

“I think I’m going to text Tim,” you say.

“What? No! He abandoned you. Just eat your ice cream and wait for him to come and beg on his knees,” Angela replies. She points her spoon at you and adds, “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

“I think that’s the other way around.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Text him. But I’m still mad at him.”

Your text to Tim is short, a simple apology, just: I’m sorry. His response is nearly immediate, and you smile when his name pops up in the notification.

Tim I’m not mad at you. I know you’re with Angela. Want me to pick you up?

Tim You don’t have to come home if you’re not ready. Whatever you want.

Your response is a promise that what you want is to be with Tim. Angela rolls her eyes at your smile, but she’s happy for you and Tim. After all, it’s because of her that you found a place a live and met Tim. She begins to ask a question, but your ringing phone cuts her off.

“Tim?” you ask as you answer.

“When did the texts start?” he inquires.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess.”

“Change of plans, then. Let me talk to Angela.”

You pass the phone to Angela, and she listens for a moment before she stands and walks into her bedroom. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t want you to know about. Tim said there was a change of plans, which sounds suspiciously like he won’t be taking you home tonight. The panic from earlier returns slowly as you wonder if he’ll ever let you go home again.

“Your boyfriend wants to talk,” Angela says, cutting through your doubt as she returns your phone.

“Sorry,” Tim begins. “I looked into your ex. He flew into LAX about a week ago, so the texts weren’t just threats. He’s here. And a week is a long time when you’re trying to find someone. I want you to stay at Angela’s tonight, okay?”

“Are you- are you working tonight?” you ask softly.

“I am now. Brent’s got an arrest warrant, and the threats he sent you make him a higher priority. We’re gonna look for him. We will find him,” Tim promises.

“Be careful, Tim.”

“I will. I have to get home to you, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll call you later and check in. Let Angela know if you get more texts, please.”

“I will. Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “See you later, Tim.”

Tim’s decision to drive by his house before he starts looking for your abusive ex was both a precaution and about Kojo. The house looks exactly as it had when he left with you for lunch, and Tim puts Kojo in the front seat of his shop before driving toward Angela and Wesley’s house. If Brent goes to his house to find you, both you and Kojo will be safe and sound with Angela Lopez prepared to defend you. There aren’t many people Tim trusts, but when you called Angela, he knew you made the right choice. It’s the one he would have made, too.

Kojo pushes past Angela to meet you when she opens the door. You happily invite him into your lap and hug him tightly. He soothes your nerves without trying, and you loosen your grip on him only to look up at Tim.

“Nothing yet,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m a call away if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you reply.

He lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles as he promises, “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s your car?” Angela asks you.

“I just moved it. Public parking off Sepulveda,” Tim answers for you. “He doesn’t seem like the smartest guy in the world, but, just in case.”

“He’s not,” you agree.

Tim slowly pulls his hand away before he leaves again, and you lean closer to Kojo for his comfort. Angela disappears into her bedroom again a few minutes later and returns in a rush.

“I have to go. There’s been a homicide,” she explains. “I called Tim and he’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. Don’t answer the door for anyone; he and Wesley have keys.” She slows to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go solve a homicide.”

She rushes out the front door and locks it behind her, but you stand and double-check it anyway. Your phone is empty of notifications, and you can only wait until Tim arrives. After you settle beside Kojo again, you give him your attention. You and he freeze simultaneously when your phone chimes on the coffee table.

Unknown Walk outside or you will cost them everything.

You read it twice before you realize what he’s asking you to do. The moment you step out in the open, he can do anything and everything he wants. But you look around and see the life Tim and Angela have built for themselves and know that you can’t do anything to jeopardize that or their safety. So, you quickly shepherd Kojo into a bedroom and lock the door before slowly flipping the locks on the front door and stepping out into the Los Angeles night. The sun recently set, but there’s enough light you can see someone standing at the corner of the yard. Tim can’t be more than a few minutes away, but his thirty-minute estimation feels like an eternity.

“Los Angeles,” Brent says before laughing. “I knew you’d run somewhere you could hide but the city of angels? You, baby, were never going to fit in here.”

“What do you want?” you ask, willing your voice to be strong.

Brent smiles and you take a step back as he moves closer. You stumble against the sidewalk behind you, and Brent surges forward to wrap a cruel hand around your arm. He twists your skin with his grip, and everything about his touch is the opposite of Tim’s. For the first time since you met Brent, you fight back. Your free hand makes contact with his jaw, but he recovers quickly and shoves you to the ground.

Pulling your knees up, you try to create momentum to knock Brent off of you, but he pushes your legs down and shoves the heel of his hand between your ribs. The air is driven from your lungs, but you know you can’t stop fighting. When Brent moves his hands, so one is holding your face and the other is reaching for something in his waistband, you panic. You need Tim, but he’s a call away, and you left your phone inside.

“Domestic dispute and assault in progress at…”

Tim doesn’t hear anything past Angela’s address, and he hits the lights as he makes the final turn onto her street. Several neighbors are gathered on the opposite side of the street and watching an altercation in Angela’s front yard when he reaches the curb. A woman screams, and Tim slams the shop into park when he sees the glint of a gun being pulled. He opens the shop door and immediately ducks as a shot is fired. “L.A.P.D. Put down the weapon!” he yells from behind his open door.

He calls your name, but there’s no sound. No reply, no calls or screams from the neighbors, and Tim peeks around the door. Slowly, the gun is tossed to the side and the man, your ex, slowly clambers onto his hands and knees. When he sits back and puts his hands up, Tim has a clear view of you lying on the ground. There’s blood on your face, and you’re not moving, so Tim rushes forward. Two more police cars join Tim’s shop, but his complete focus is on you. He kneels beside you and pushes two fingers against your pulse point.

“I’m okay,” you whisper when you feel Tim’s skin on yours.

Tim sighs and drops his head before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling your torso off the ground and into a hug. You return his tight grip as he sits on the sidewalk and holds you close. Two other officers handcuff Brent and put him in the back of a cruiser, and you’re surprised but pleased with the lack of threats directed toward you.

“Sergeant Bradford, the weapon was discharged, but the bullet was fired into a tree. CSU will gather data for ballistics,” an officer tells Tim quickly.

His grip tightens on you at the mention of the gunshot, and you sigh against his shoulder. As you lean up, he gets a better look at the bruise under your jaw and the fresh blood pooling against the older, dried blood under your nose. He moves you gently so he can stand and calls for a paramedic.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you say with a painful chuckle.

“Respectfully, I want a second opinion,” he replies. “And then we’re going home.”

“Don’t forget Kojo.”

“I’ll get him.”

“Oh, you may need a key.”

Tim furrows his brows at you but doesn’t ask what you’re talking about as he lowers beside you again. His hand in yours distracts you from the pokes and prods of the paramedics, and your mind is no longer anxious and scared, but excited to go home and remind Tim how much you appreciate his protectiveness.

Tim doesn’t let you out of his sight or his hold from the moment you enter his house. He pulls you against him and sits on the couch, inviting Kojo to join you. You’re finally okay, and it makes it easier for both you and Tim to show the affection you’ve been avoiding.

“I don’t want to be a call away anymore,” Tim confesses softly. “Not a room away… I need to be right beside you.”

“Tim, I only asked for the separation because I had to have it. Thinking that he would come after me was concerning, but the closer I got to you, the more worried I was he’d hurt you, too.”

“I understand that, but it’s over now. So, it’s your choice again.”

You nod and tilt your bruised face up from Tim’s chest to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be a room away either,” you whisper.

Tim smiles and brushes a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before withdrawing his touch from your face. He kisses you gently, a series of pecks more than a real kiss, before allowing you to move closer.

As you fall asleep in Tim’s arms, you’ve never felt more at home. His touch, his presence, his protectiveness, and his care make him special, and he’s the best roommate-turned-more you could have asked for.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and you wake up faster than ever.

[flippinpancakes64]

Would you pls write about reader having a nightmare and how the Cullens would react?

The Cullens when their S/O is having a nightmare

Thank you for requesting and I hope you like this!

This post wont be up for about two days as of the time I'm writing this, but I am turning off my requests! After this one here, I'll still have 15 left to do :'(

I'm so appreciative of everyone who chose to request because it means that I'm at least doing something right lol I just need a sec to catch up

Edward:

He can hear your nightmares as they play out

But Carlisle once told him that you're not supposed to wake people up during nightmares

So he doesn't

It's killing him tho

The moment you wake up he is right there

Shushing you, drying your tears, and letting you explain

If you want to talk about it, that's fine

If not, that's fine too

If you don't want to go back to sleep, he's a little upset but he'll help you stay awake

You need sleep

But he understands

Whatever it was about, he will try his best to soothe you and reassure you that it won't actually happen

Especially if it's something about him leaving you

Like you couldn't get rid of this man even if you wanted to

Alice:

I don't think her gift would work for predicting that someone's going to have a nightmare

So the only way she would be tipped off is if she heard you

But as soon as she does she's rushing to your side

Mostly because it sounds like there's danger

But after she sees you're having a nightmare, she wakes you up

She lightly caresses your face and whispers until you finally open your eyes

And then she's there for you

Again, she'll let you talk about whatever you need or want to

And every time you bring up that you think this thing might happen, she stares off into space for a second and then says it won't

Whether she's actually looking into the future or just trying to trick you, you don't know

Jasper:

I have a feeling he wouldn't leave your side while you sleep

So the moment you start kicking around or when he senses your anxiety, he's ready

He sends soothing emotions your way, trying to get you to calm down and go back to sleep

But if that doesn't work, then he wakes you up

Again, he uses his gift to soothe you

He lets you talk out whatever you need to

He is at your disposal, just put him wherever you need him

And if you need him to stand guard at the door for the whole night to make sure that no monsters get in, he'll do it no questions asked

And once more, he will use his gift to help you go back to sleep

Rosalie:

You told her about how you have such bad nightmares at night

So instead of leaving the room to let you sleep, she decided to stick around

When she notices you start to kick and stir, she tries to soothe you back to sleep

Whispering things like how you're safe, she's there, it's not real, and stuff like that

And if that doesn't work, then she wakes you up

She lets you talk it out, but doesn't fight you if you say you don't want to go back to sleep

She'll let you hang out with her in the garage while she works on one of her cars until she notices you nodding off

Emmett:

If you don't mind the TV being on while you sleep, then he has it on and is watching something while you sleep

And if you do mind then he's still never too far away, just in the living room

Either way, he has the TV low enough to not bother you

That means he can hear when you start to shift

He grew up with little sisters though

And he knows that you're supposed to wait out nightmares

So he waits it out until you either stop or wake up on your own

He doesn't press for details if you don't want to give them

He just turns the TV to a channel you like and lets you sleep on his shoulder

Esme:

I feel like she'd enjoy reading in bed while you sleep

So she's quick to notice when something's wrong

She doesn't hesitate to wake you up

Asks what's wrong and what you were dreaming about

She's very reassuring no matter what it is

She tells her own stories after you to make you feel better and to get your mind off of it

"When I was younger, I used to have nightmares about this guy who was made of butterflies coming to town and stealing all of the butterflies! It always made me so upset."

Carlisle:

He tends to be working most of the time

But luckily his office is connected to your bedroom

So he can hear when something happens

If you have a nightmare he lets it take its course

If you go back to sleep, then he goes back to work

But if you wake up, he takes you to his office with him and lets you sit next to him or on his lap while he works

;)

Not actually in a suggestive way

I just really wanna sit in his lap

Anyways

He doesn't pressure you into talking about it if you don't want to

But he has an explanation for everything if you do

Vampire! Bella:

Wasn't it a whole plotline in the movies where Bella had really bad nightmares?

And the books too

So she understands

She wakes you up whenever she hears you

She always asks what it's about

But she doesn't linger on it either

And she won't force you to go back to bed if you don't want to

"Okay enough talk about nightmares, you wanna go get ice cream?"

[theprinceofliones]

He knows something's wrong when his son doesn't come home.

Meliodas can feel it in his bones, tingling underneath his skin as his demon blood hums with his unfiltered anxiety. He itches to move, to fight, to distract himself even though it feels like the walls are closing in.

Tristan had left for Benwick a week prior, to visit Lancelot and attempt to find a way to lift him up despite Percival's death, to attempt to bring him back into the fold.

He left with his Platoon, Isolde and Chion, and Meliodas trusted them of course. But, his son was powerful just by himself, so he was at least a little reassured in that aspect. Meliodas never thought Arthur would attack again, not now, not when he'd succeeded in ridding of the prophecy.

Isolde is limping, holding up a barely awake Chion, and all of his fears suddenly come true.

They were attacked by Arthur's knights.

Tristan tried to buy them time to get out of there.

Tristan didn't come home.

His son had been /taken from him/.

Meliodas is ruined.

_

He enters the meeting hall, opening the doors himself and feels as though he's working on autopilot, like someone has taken over his body and is doing everything for him because--how could he do anything else? How could he? When his worst nightmare has become reality.

Elizabeth, his wife, his beautiful, gorgeous other half, his strong, /true/ soulmate stands at the end of the table whilst other Lords of the realm discuss amongst themselves. They had been for days, inside of these four walls, panicked now that Percival's death was made public. Elizabeth had been attempting to placate them, to reassure them that not all was lost.

But, it was. Everything was lost. His son was gone.

Meliodas doesn't feel the tears on his cheeks, nor does he feel the stare and silence of every knight and lord now that he's entered. He simply limps his way over to his wife who's staring at him with wide, golden eyes, absolutely frozen as she watches her husband and his hunched over form, like he'll fall apart.

Something's wrong. Something's happened.

She goes cold, an unmistakable numbness taking over her, true, /pure/ fear taking ahold of everything she is.

She's never felt such terror before. Not ever.

Something's /wrong/.

Meliodas finally makes his way over to her, exhaling shakily before he reaches up to gently grab her hand and, for a moment, it looked as though he were moving to softly graze her stomach, her womb, before he twitches to grasp her palm and turn the two of them around towards the fireplace behind them, away from the eyes of the lords and knights staring at them as though they're ghosts.

Elizabeth feels her husband shake, /shake/, and she thinks she knows.

"Arthur-" Meliodas' voice is hoarse, as though he had been screaming. "He took our boy, Elizabeth. Our baby."

Her worst nightmare, now a reality.

Elizabeth is ruined.

She rips her hand from his, going completely cold, cold as corpse, and takes a step away from him, skin going paler than that of a ghost.

She moves to take another step, and nearly falls over, her foot shaking.

Elizabeth /trembles/, fear overriding her, terror and horror making a home inside of her insides, replacing her blood for dread, and her bones for panic. Her heart beats loudly in her ears, resounding throughout her skull as she moves away from him, trying and nearly failing to hold herself upright.

Her hands reach up to grasp at her stomach, where she once created life from, where she once held her son away from the whole world, where her son couldn't be taken from her.

She bows her head and shakes uncontrollably, all noise turning muffled as grief immediately takes over her, fills her senses and she /sobs/.

/No, no, no/, her mind begs. /Please, let this be a nightmare. Please/.

Her son, her boy, her baby. Gone. Gone. Gone.

/"What's happened?"/

/"Is the Queen alright?"/

/"Your Grace, are you-?"/

Her son, her boy, her baby. Taken. Taken. Taken.

What else would this world take? What else would the Gods deem her unworthy of? How much more would she suffer?

Arthur had been her friend, her ally, but he had lost his way.

She had been prepared to save him, to help guide him back on the right path because-it wasn't his fault. It wasn't him anymore, it was Chaos inside of him, controlling him, making him do things he wouldn't ever normally do.

She was prepared to forgive him.

But there was no forgiveness any longer.

Elizabeth had none left to give.

Suddenly, she lifts her head back up and stands upright, very suddenly calm as she exhales once, twice, three times, through her parted lips.

It was as if all sorrow and grief had been burnt away, burnt away by the boiling, ever so careful /rage/ consuming her, taking over all she was and all she'd ever be.

She can feel the tears drying on her cheeks as she turns around, facing her husband and the rest of the room.

Meliodas stares at her as though he's never seen her before.

The lords and knights all rear back at the sight of her.

"His head," She heaves as her skin boils alive. Her stomach is an empty vessel now, barren and cold. "Bring me Arthur Pendragon's /head/."

She wasn't a defenseless little princess, she hadn't been for a long time, but for the first time since facing off against the Demon King, does she truly feel as though her rage could transform her into something vicious.

Meliodas' eyes are shining still, filled with tears, but they're empty, nearly lifeless, and they are the same in their shared grief. But, hers burns brighter than the light of a thousand suns, and his is an empty cavern filled with nothingness.

The grief and rage of losing a child could burn down the world. Either the Kingdom of Britannia or Kingdom of Camelot could be allowed to prosper, but not both.

Arthur Pendragon would reap what he's now so viciously sown, would pay for everything he had taken from her.

After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

[aayakashii]

Part three to the story! You can read part 1 here, and part 2 here.

Warnings: SFW, gender neutral reader, angst and depiction of a panic attack. If you feel triggered by that, please avoid it and take care of yourself first!!!

Author's note: this derailed into Alan going through it so I'm not sure how I feel about it,,,, I feel like the story took a sharp turn into another direction that is detached from chapter 1. anyway, I would really appreciate your comments if you liked it!

touch starved – ch. 3

MC

Are you available to go through that mission right now?

Alan watched as a typing bubble suddenly appeared on his chat with them, mildly pleased at how fast they visualized his message.

It almost made him feel stupid after stalling to send them a message for so long. Although he would never admit it, because admitting it would be acknowledging his anxiety to talk to them.

Right now?

Hm...

Yes.

I had to go finish some errands for Jin...

He didn't have the right to feel jealous over them, much less over something innocuous like that. It was just their job. And even if it wasn't, he still has no right to feel anything for them at all.

Alan narrowed his eyes at the message, his fist clenching unconsciously around his phone. He stopped himself before could actually crush it into bits. It wouldn't be the first time, actually.

I believe missions are a priority.

Darkwick policy.

Jin has Tohma.

He'll live.

He pursed his lips, mouth forming a thin line as he tried to get rid of that green feeling forming inside his chest, while he thought about typing all the other reasons why they should ditch Jin.

He needed to get rid of it.

I know he will live, it's about MY survival though hahaha

Alan managed to suck in a deep breath. Okay. So they were hesitating just because it was their job, and not because they favored Jin.

Don't wanna lose my head, you know?

Good, good.

Don't worry

I'll keep you safe

Alan cringed at his own corny message, but it was too late. He had no clue on how to delete something after it was sent, so he sat with his embarrassment, nibbling on his own bottom lip as he looked at the "Seen" under his texts that appeared as soon as his messages were successfully sent. A typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

...

10 seconds feel more like 10 hours.

You there?

He allowed a little bit of his anxiety flow through the message, his right leg bouncing up and down, restlessly, as the heel of his shoe made a loud tap tap tap sound in his room.

Soeey

Sorry*

I got a bit distracted

But okay

I'll see you in a few minutes

I'll let Tohma know I can't see Jin rn and go straight to Vagastrom

Okay.

Alan pursed his lips again, that time to suppress the smile that threatened to creep into his face.

His right leg rested, finally.

No big deal. He knew you were coming just because missions are, indeed, a priority. He knew that.

Deep inside his chest, however, he felt a bubbling pride come to the surface of his feelings.

You chose him over Jin.

He breathed in deeply and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to calm himself down befored you arrived. He had no right to act giddy like that, not him, not ever. He had to wipe that small smile from his face.

A soft knock sounded on his door as Alan finished organizing all the paperwork for the mission. Two cans of iced coffee and a few bags of chips also rested right beside the documents – it was the best he could get with the little time he had.

“Hey, I'm here” your head peeked inside his room, and Alan had to keep himself from flinching. It wasn't characteristic of him to feel jumpy since he was constantly aware of his surroundings, but he had found this new side of himself after the mission regarding Takeru's ghost.

Ever since he saw your body being dragged down by that anomaly, his nightmares seemed to be filled with images of you almost succumbing to that monster. Reminding himself that you were safe, at least for now, was a conscious effort he had to do most days.

He wondered if you had nightmares about him being bloodied from head to toe after he lost control.

“Thanks for coming after such a short notice. You can come in.” he opened the door, ushering you inside.

“It's no problem. Did you take a look at it already?” you walked towards his coffee table, where all papers seemed to be organized and sat on his floor, eyes scanning the pile of documents.

“Mhm, I did.” Alan joined you and slid one of the cans towards your direction “I'm pretty sure they only categorized this as a mission because of the amount of documents with omitted information. It's a lot of work.��

You took a sharp breath through your teeth.

“Yeah, I can see that…”

Alan stared at the troubled expression on your face and suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over his body.

Working with him must be a chore. Now that he was thinking things through, you didn't need to go through this after all. At least, not again, not when he could handle things on his own this time, even if it was a lot of work. He could just let you leave–

“Actually, you don't really need to worry about this. You are free to go if you have other businesses.” he blurted out, without much thought, his uncertainty getting the best of him.

Alan was everything except a man who was tuned into his emotions. And sometimes, they caught him by surprise when they took over his body and acted on their own.

It was the reason why he was so afraid of his own anger. He didn't know when or if it could take control over him. 

You stared at Alan, who sat across from you on the table, and lifted an eyebrow.

“But you called me here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking apologetic.

Truthfully, he felt conflicted.

A big, loud part of his mind wanted you there, with him. He wanted the comfort of your company, the normalcy and gentleness of being with you; someone so different from the Vagastrom House's students, and from the surroundings that were familiar to him – because he hadn’t known tranquility for most of his life.

Another part of him, however, wanted to push you away because he didn’t feel like he deserved said tranquility. 

“Yeah, however–” he was interrupted by the loud sound of a can's lid being snapped open.

“Of course I'm not leaving, Alan. It's my job as an inspector and I want to help you.”

Alan's gaze towards you softened and he took a deep breath, nodding.

Of course you wouldn't up and leave, no matter how much he tried to push you away.

It was one of the things that shook him to his core while he was working with you – not once did you express feeling uncomfortable, but most importantly, you never seemed to be afraid of him, which was unprecedented for Alan.

He knew what the other students said about his past, and he was sure that you were aware of every rumor, of every story people passed on regarding his life. Yet, never once did their fear seem to rub off on you. Each time, you chose to stay beside him, trusting him instead.

He knew that pushing you away was never going to be that simple.

You worked diligently through the first few documents on your pile, laser focused on the task at hand. Your hands moved fast, peppering the paper in red ink as you circled the information that needed to change and the numbers that needed to be input.

Meanwhile, Alan was lost in his thoughts as he looked at you, his hand loosely holding a red pen against the paper, the pen's tip making a small stain on it.

His own lack of movement made you slowly lift your gaze towards him and he flinched again, putting his finger against the red puddle of ink to dry it out faster, and quickly moving the papers to pretend he was just as focused as you.

Your very presence, however, seemed to make it impossible for Alan to concentrate.

He frowned, trying to understand what was printed on that paper right in front of him, but his eyes wandered again from his papers to rest on you, so, so near him.

Looking at your hands, he still felt the faint ghost of your touch on his head. Despite digging his nails into his scalp that whole afternoon, he still couldn't remove the memory of your skin against his hair and it haunted him. He kept on banishing time and time again every greedy thought that merely implied he wanted more of that.

He scribbled random numbers down onto his paper, mind totally focused on the fact that you were right in front of him. He would definitely need to review each and every single document he pretended to correct, because, at that moment, the sound of his heartbeat thumping loud in his eardrums prevented him from concentrating.

He glanced sideways towards you as you moved to grab your coffee. Alan swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down,  as he observed the way your lips pressed against the can and one stray drop of coffee trailed down your chin, your neck and entered the confines of your uniform.

He licked his lips and gritted his teeth.

How he wished he could taste your skin – but no, no. He couldn't entertain thoughts like that, not when he felt so unworthy of your touch.

He shook his head, trying to chase his thoughts away.

His mind flashed to Dante and the purple and black bruises littering his body and a cloud of guilt immediately hid his desires under its gloomy shadow.

How could he ever think of touching you with the same hands that killed a man? The same hands that held weapons, the same hands that landed him in juvie.

Alan tried to hide all the blood under grease and car oil, but it was still there – and he would rather be damned than cause the same pain on you by cursing you with his attention.

He didn’t deserve you. Not your company, not your friendship, much less your affection.

His heartbeat kept on drumming loudly on his ears, every part of his body seemed to be pulsing in the same rhythm as his thoughts snowballed into a pit of self-hatred.

He felt heat emanate from his skin, even though his room’s air conditioner was blasting the same way it had always been. Alan tried swallowing through the sudden nausea, but his throat felt like it was closing up and his tongue felt heavy on his dry mouth.

He rested his head against his trembling hands, trying his best to breathe even though it felt like his lungs weren’t working. He felt like he was dying. Was he dying? But why? Did something curse him too? Or maybe he was just ill, he never really had any health checks done by Mortkranken anyway, maybe he had been sick already.

He felt like he was going to throw up, but he didn’t even remember where he was. Where was he? He couldn’t see. His vision seemed to have darkened and his chest hurt so, so much. He gasped, trying to force the air inside his lungs.

He wished he could have at least held your hand before he died. Oh, speaking of it, weren’t you working with him just a few moments ago?

“–lan. Alan. Can you hear me? Alan, focus on my voice if you can hear me, please.”

In between the clouds in his mind, he suddenly heard your voice, muffled and distant.

“I’m right here, Alan. Please focus on my voice, I’m right here.”

His head snapped towards you, breathing still erratic. His tunnel vision seemed to expand a little and he managed to make out your face. You were right beside him, an extremely worried expression on you.

Why did you look so worried? Oh, right, he was dying.

“I know it must be hard to focus right now, but I’m gonna keep talking so you can try to come back first.”

He managed to suck in a shaky breath through his nose, the feeling of salty water hitting the back of his throat. His trembling hands moved to touch his own face - it was wet with his own tears. When did he start crying?

This seemed to bring him back a bit more, so you kept on talking.

“Can you hear me better now? Let’s try breathing together?”

He looked at you, thoughts still hazy as his heartbeat kept on drumming loudly.

“Alan.” you called him and he tried to focus on your face.

“I’m going to touch your arm, is that okay?”

You seemed to have said something about touching him and he nodded, confused.

He suddenly felt your hands wrap around his wrists.

“Focus on my hands and on my voice. Okay?”

He nodded again, still unable to speak.

“Let’s try breathing together. I’m gonna count and you’re gonna follow me, okay?”

Your thumbs gently rubbed against his quickened pulse and he felt the fog dissipate a bit more.

“Breathe in deeply for 4 seconds. 1, 2, 3, 4.”

He followed your instructions, trying to open up his own airways.

“Hold for 7 seconds. Don’t exhale yet, okay? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.”

He moved his wrists, allowing you to hold his hands instead and you squeezed them, reassuringly.

“Now let go for 8 seconds. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.”

He felt his chest hurt a little bit less and cringed at the damp feeling of his tears wetting his face.

You guided him through his breathing for a few more minutes, until Alan felt like he could speak again.

“I thought I was dying.” he confessed, voice raspy and low. You looked at him, sympathetically.

“You were going through a really bad panic attack.” you said, and he widened his eyes in surprise “You’ve never gone through one?”

He shook his head. So he wasn’t dying. Good. But also, he felt like running away from his mind even more after he that.

“It can happen to anyone. I’ve been through some as well, especially if I’m too trapped inside my own bad thoughts. That’s why I knew that breathing technique.” you grabbed a napkin on his table and kneeled closer to him, motioning with your hands towards his face. “Can I?”

"Okay" he managed to say and hesitantly closed his eyes as he felt you dry his tear-striken face with the napkin.

It was the closest you have ever been to him. He breathed deeply, basking on the scent of lavender fabric softener that came from your clothes, and leaned against your touch unconsciously.

Your eyes softened as you observed him in such a vulnerable state. You didn’t know what was it that plagued him so much that sent him spiraling so horribly, but nothing could beat the certainty that you wished you could protect him from those demons just as much as you wanted to keep touching him.

“Alan.” you murmured and he opened his eyes, suddenly embarrassed as he realized he was resting his cheek on your hand.

He quickly leaned away from you, gaze moving everywhere but your face.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice I wa-”

“Alan” you said, once again, louder. He looked at you, silencing himself.

“Would you let me hug you?”

Alan's eyes widened and, for a moment, his thoughts seemed to halt for the first time in that afternoon. 

Your question echoed inside of his skull and all he managed to do in response was lean forward again, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

You leaned your cheek against the back of his head and made sure to keep breathing deeply and evenly so he could follow your example. His arms were hesitant, and looped awkwardly around your waist, afraid of holding you too tight.

Your hands pulled his arms closer and he froze, his already tensed up muscles feeling even tighter. You moved your hands to his back again and began rubbing circles against the fabric of his vest.

Alan tried his best not to allow himself to melt against your touch, but after a while, he failed to keep himself from indulging in the feeling of peace that you gave him. It was something he only found in you and he felt like he could happily drown in it.

Your head moved, and you leaned back in order to be able to look at his tired eyes.

“I hope you know you can count on me if you ever need to talk about something. You don’t have to deal with your thoughts alone.” you murmured, arms still keeping his locked in your embrace.

Alan avoided your gaze, looking down at the documents you two still had to write, long forgotten.

The persistent voice in his head still tried to claim he wasn’t worthy of anything you were offering him, but in your arms, your voice was much louder than any insecurity he could have.

He chose to listen to you, even if just for that moment.

He nodded, arms steadying around your waist.

“Thank you.”

Masterlist link

[charlie-the-ghost64]

Ooookay. There’s a few differences in my version of Mario from when he lived in Brooklyn and after he got settled in the Mushroom Kingdom.

I explain it more under the cut. Just didn’t want to force everyone to have to scroll past that list lol.

Pre-Mushroom Kingdom

When Mario and Luigi were just starting out in their own place, Mario was very obsessive when it came to the bills. To the point that he checked their bank account daily. He’d always be looking for a cheap trick to try and save a few extra dollars. Sometimes he used the wrong trick and ended up using more money.

Mario and Luigi tended to get into small arguments over these tricks. In Luigi’s mind, it would pay off in the end to spend a few extra bucks on something they needed rather than it breaking in a few weeks because it’s so cheap. Mario on the other hand refused to accept that they could afford good products, even if Luigi set aside money for whatever they were buying. Mario usually “won” these fights due to Luigi not being as stubborn as his brother.

Mario doesn’t like to talk about work with their family. He tries to keep conversations focused on everyone else. Mario didn’t want to admit just how much time he spends working and how much of his life it takes up. He especially avoids talking about it with Luigi.

Speaking of work, he does that far too much. It worried Luigi endlessly, to the point that he��s had nightmares of Mario not being able to drive home because he’s too exhausted. He tended to sneak back out after Luigi has fallen asleep to go work some late jobs around town. Most are in fairly dangerous parts of town, so he and Luigi keep a family tracker on their phones just in case. Due to working too much, he’ll also occasionally miss a meal. It’s a price you sometimes must pay when you won’t give yourself a break.

Mario has major anxiety. I feel it’s a given judging by what I’ve already said, but I wanted to be more specific. He primarily is worried about Luigi. His brother has really bad social anxiety, sometimes making it hard for him to speak to customers. Mario tries to stick with Luigi whenever his brother is also working.

Mario’s tells that something is wrong is: tapping his foot, constantly checking that Luigi is next to him, and crossing his arms over his chest. More subtle than Luigi’s stuttering and fidgeting.

Post Mushroom Kingdom

The first week or two of being in the Mushroom Kingdom was very chaotic and eye opening to both brothers. Both go through a lot of change, though Mario does the most of it. The most immediate change was learning that Luigi is not as helpless as he may seem.

Mario discovers just how good of a fighter he can really be, helping rid some of his anxiety when the two are apart. He knew now that Luigi is capable of protecting himself, and fairly good at it too. He also learns to trust him more with billing and tells him the truth about how poor off they’d been. The two end up having a very long talk about how they needed to be fully honest with each other about serious stuff if this was going to work. Luigi can’t help him stay rational unless he knows how bad it really is. Mario apologized for lying to him during this conversation. Luigi, of course, forgave him.

Since the two no longer have money issues (those toads pay surprisingly well for plumbing), Mario’s cut back on the cheap tricks. Sometimes Luigi will catch him, but as long as it isn’t anything big, he lets him get away with it. It didn’t hurt. The brother’s relationship has healed a lot around the month mark. Fights are a very rare thing, and even when they happen, the two are able to resolve those very quickly.

Mario tends to be quite the chatterbox when it comes to telling his family about the Mushroom Kingdom (especially Peach). Their family is always happy to listen, teasing him about how much he talks now compared to only a few weeks ago. He’ll always get embarrassed.

He’s also on a more stable work schedule. Given toads are willing to pay a lot more here, and they’re getting consistent jobs, Mario didn’t need to work overtime anymore. Due to that, he’s been getting proper sleep and no longer skips meals. He’s started a new habit with Luigi around this time where the two do a bunch of meal prep together. It’s a good way to ensure they’re both eating enough and to spend time together, something Luigi’s been wanting outside of work. Another bonus is he no longer felt exhausted all the time. It’s caused him to be more talkative.

His anxiety’s better than it used to be. He still has it of course, but he’s been considering going to therapy after Peach’s suggestion. He’ll have to give that Dr.Toad a call.

And that should be it for this post! I’ll be making a Luigi one sometime in the future. If anyone has any constructive criticism, please share! It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like this and I appreciate any and all tips I can get to be a better writer! Thank you for reading!

[1-up-chump]

Random assortment of magneto headcanons

He's fond of sweets, but nothing overtly so sweet it feels like your mouth is rotting. His favorites are anything cream or jelly filled and/or powdered. However he's slightly embarrassed to eat them because he always ends up a mess somehow, so he stuffs his face with them in secret.

As a child he always wanted a pet rabbit, as an adult he secretly still wants one if life will ever allow him some peace and time to take care of it.

Hates needles, they give him too many bad memories and he needs to have someone to hold his hand and calm him down if he absolutely needs an injection. Otherwise he'll panic out of instinct.

Prefers early spring or early autumn, likes the transition of seasons more than anything else. He likes the symbolism in it.

Often has nightmares and trouble sleeping, will have a strategy to take discreet cat naps where no one is looking to compensate the lack of sleep. It's impossible to sneak up on magneto when he's sleeping (unless he's in a deep sleep or knocked tf out)

Whether mutant or human, he cannot say no to a small child being polite while begging him for something, especially if they give him a cute little expression. Not immune to cutness. He absolutely cannot refuse them if they ask for a hug

Speaking of hugs, magneto has the warmest most protective hugs. You'll always feel secure and protected. He's really just a big teddy bear but will never admit it or see it himself personally.

Is ticklish, but good luck trying to get him. He flails and growls threats but if you find his weak spots (underarms, hips, lower back, belly, back of knee, under chin) he's as helpless as a kitten. Loses control of his abilities so anything metal around him is going to levitate and curl slightly.

Is a happy and friendly drunk, jumps at any chance to show off his theatrical nonsense. Often has giggle fits. He gets sleepy very easily while drunk. Very clingy very touchy feelie, good luck getting a drunk magneto off of you.

It's hard for him to relax due to his trauma. Whenever he does manage to let his guard down he gets struck with sudden anxiety and his walls are back up. He secretly desires Xavier to dive into his mind and make his mind shut up, force him to relax, cover up these anxieties and traumas so he can have some peace. But charles would never do it unless erik verbally asks him to, but Erik's pride would never allow it. So he suffers in silence, and rejects Xavier's other attempts to calm him.

The sight of any child near a window high up or a ledge gives him terrible anxiety. He'll do anything to get the child away from potentially falling even if its not that dangerous a height. Even if it makes him seem mean or scary. He has his reasons why.

He stims with metallic balls or cubes, it helps him focus but he's been recently told he looks like a dramatic jackass when he does it. He does not care.

There are only two beings that truly intimidate him but comand his respect, storm and thor. Because lets just say he's had a taste of both their lightning and would rather stay on their good side.

Around the holidays he makes an attempt to reach out to his children wanda and Pietro. To varying degrees of success but he tries.

Thinks spider-man is annoying as hell. Thinks venom does a better job but is unnerved and disgusted by him so he rather wants to keep his distance.

Thinks dates and other romantic outtings should always be around nighttime because it's more romantic.

Sometimes has intrusive thoughts of eating certain metals because they look aesthetically pleasing enough to eat. Not iron deficient but due to his mutation he just craves iron.

Being around too much electronics gives him a headache. And in turn he can cause them to not work because he's subconsciously trying to get rid of them with his magnetism.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Summary: Tommy navigates through processing Lizzie's news and what it might mean for his relationship with Lucy.

Word Count: 7,755

Warnings: Pregnancy, angst, jealousy, smut, and references to abortion.

Notes: I hope you all don't mind this chapter being longer than I usually make them. I couldn't really find a good place to cut it in half, and there wasn't much that I could cut out, either.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 18: Seemingly Incurable Sadness

Tommy’s hands squeezed tight around the steering wheel, fighting to ignore the way that his lungs burned for a cigarette. His stomach churned with anxiety, mind still reeling.

The awkward silence between him and Lizzie stretched on and on within the confines of the car as he drove them through the winding streets towards her lodgings. Her words from when they’d spoken in his office still rang in his head. 

“Yes, it can only be yours.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“A baby. A little you and me.”

His throat felt suddenly intensely dry. He wanted to slap himself.

Fucking hell, the one goddamn time he doesn’t pull out…

He’d been too lost in memories of Greta during that time between him, Lucy, and Lizzie down by the canal. It had not even occurred to him until later that he had failed to take necessary precautions. 

He let out a small, harsh sigh. An internal scream was sounding in his head, hoping that somehow this was all a nightmare he would wake up from at any moment. He didn’t want to have a baby with Lizzie. He didn’t want to be shackled to her for the rest of his life.

But it wasn’t like he was going to force her to get rid of it.     

He would buy her a house. He would be involved in the child’s life. He would support her financially–he certainly could afford to. But outside of that, he had no intention of committing anything deeper to her. 

The last thing that he wanted was to give her yet more hope that something was ever going to happen between them. 

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Lizzie had been expecting him to drop instantaneously to one knee with a marriage proposal the very moment that the announcement of her pregnancy left her lips. 

Pulling the car over against the curb directly in front of Lizzie’s lodgings, he killed the engine, half hoping that she would just get out and leave him alone without another word. 

He needed some time to himself, to properly collect his thoughts. 

“Would you like to come up?” Lizzie asked, voice soft. 

“No.”

Still, she made no move to get out of the car. “What will you tell Lucy?” she finally asked, and Tommy had to suppress a wince at his lover’s name, guilt roiling within him so violently that for a moment he thought it might make him sick. 

It had been the very first thought that had come to him, after the initial shock had worn off and he was left with the weight of the reality that Lizzie had just dumped at his feet: Christ, what am I going to tell Lucy?

He had fucked up. Colossally so. Sure, Lucy had been there in the canal too, but she wasn’t the one who’d gone and accidentally impregnated Lizzie while knowing better than to not be so careless. That was all him.

And now he had to go tell his sweet, wonderful girlfriend that he’d gone and knocked up someone else. 

Again.  

At least with Grace, the three of them had been in love. They’d wanted to be together. This time around was different entirely.

“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said softly, clearing his throat. Anxiety twisted in his chest at the mere thought, despite his attempts to talk himself around it. To remain optimistic. He had no intention of leaving Lucy. Things could still remain as they were, between them. 

Now, if she left him, that would be another story. He didn’t think that she would, but, well…

He wouldn’t blame her, if she did. 

“I feel sorry for her.”

His brows knit together in confusion, something in Lizzie’s tone sending alarm bells off in his head. It did not sound like a simple statement of sympathy for how this whole situation might affect her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after you split up with her, I doubt there will be much of a place for her here at all anymore–”

“No.” It came out perhaps harsher than necessary, and Lizzie’s mouth shut, her jaw tightening. But he needed to get it through to her; make it crystal clear. “Under no circumstances will I be leaving Lucy.” Lizzie opened her mouth to argue. “Ever.” He put as much firm, immovable emphasis on the word as he could without shouting. 

“I’m having your fucking baby, Tommy. Why does she get to be more important than that?”

“Lizzie, please…” he pinched at his brow, battling back a headache. Working hard to keep himself level headed. “I will take care of you. I will take care of the baby, but I’m not…I can’t promise you anything more than that. And I’m not dumping Lucy out onto the street like garbage so that you can play out some fucking fantasy–”

“You’re the one living in a fantasy!” she snapped. “You’re going to make our child a bastard! I know how this goes, Tommy. You’ll stash us away out in the countryside, right? Only to be visited on the rare occasion that you have time for us.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying–”

“No?” she sneered. “You’re going to allow it to be public knowledge that you have an illegitimate child? I’m sure that will do wonders for your reputation.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I will not allow my child to be shoved aside while you gallivant around with that little tart–”

“Oi!” This time he did shout, voice echoing throughout the interior of the car. Lizzie cringed back at the sound, shoulders drawing in, and a look of immediate regret passed across her face. Had he not been so frustrated, he may have found it fascinating: the way that she seemed to almost rouse, like she had been stuck in a trance of anger and jealousy before his bellow of fury snapped her out of it. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked down at her hands. “I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, looking out the window. “I didn’t mean that.”

Tommy wiped a hand down his face. There were about a dozen things he’d like to say to her, but he decided to refrain. At least until after he’d spoken to Lucy and knew where she stood on everything. 

“If you are going to insist on keeping the baby, I’m not going to fight you on it,” he said, slowly. “But you need to make peace with the fact that Lucy is important to me. She will always be important to me. She’s a part of my life. You have to accept that, Lizzie.” When she didn’t say anything, instead just staring down at her hands, he let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “This really shouldn’t be so big of a shock.”

Still, Lizzie did not answer, just sitting there in angry silence. Tommy shook his head. 

“I thought that you and her were getting along,” his voice was quieter, at a loss for what else he could do or say. Only able to hope that somehow, Lizzie would remember that Lucy wasn’t her enemy in all of this. Hell, up until the canal, things had been cordial, even friendly, between them.  

Lizzie did not acknowledge his words, turning away sharply and opening the car door, stepping out onto the street. When she turned to slam the door shut behind her, she shot him a look that it took him a beat to recognize as heartbreak.   

Guilt crashed down upon him again. For placing them both into this situation. For getting her hopes up again. For not being able to give her what she really wanted. 

For, in complete and total honesty, not really wanting to. 

Because he would never trade what he had with Lucy for even the remote possibility of having something with Lizzie. Not ever. And the type of love that Lizzie was seeking from him was not the kind that would have room for anyone else.   

God, what a fucking mess. 

“I know a good realtor. I’ll have him call you so you can start looking at houses,” he tried to offer. Lizzie looked away. 

“Whatever.”

He sighed, for perhaps the thousandth time that night. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” she said, still without looking at him, and slammed the car door in his face. He watched her walk to her door, waiting until she was safely inside before turning back on the engine, pulling the car away from the curb, heading towards home. 

Towards Lucy. 

Dread sprang up in his throat, tasting of bile. He did not know how he was going to face her. Already he could envision it: the way that her big brown eyes would look up at him, wide and full of hurt. A tremor traveled down his arms, all the way to his hands. With a sharp jerk, he suddenly yanked the steering wheel to pull over the car, letting the engine idle while he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. The smoke drew deeply into his lungs, helping to somewhat stifle the shakiness of his hands.

His Lucy. His poor Lucy. This was going to hurt her. She would most likely try to pretend that it didn’t, but it would.

And it was his fault. 

He loved her. He’d promised never to hurt her, and here he was, about to waltz into their home, drop this whole load of shit at her feet, and ask her to still, somehow, stay with him. He couldn’t be more selfish if he tried. 

It had never been his intention to have any more children after Grace died. He had been on the fence about it even prior to her death. In his mind, Charlie had been more than enough, and after learning that Lucy couldn’t get pregnant, the idea of him and Grace having more had felt almost…insensitive. Not that they’d even gotten the chance to ever really discuss it. Grace died before that could happen. 

The very thought of Grace was enough to have a burn of tears, both of guilt and sorrow, burning in the back of his throat. It was times like these he was thankful that he did not really believe in an afterlife. The thought of her looking down on him and seeing what he had done made him want to weep with shame. 

No, after Grace was gone, more children had not been something either he or Lucy had planned on. She could not have them, and they were more than content with Charlie, Asher, and their horses. 

As if things weren’t bad enough already, it was compounded by the reality that Lizzie was about to give him something that Lucy never could. The pain that would cause was not lost on him. Yet another kick to the stomach for his kindhearted redhead to endure. His lover who had never, in all their time together, done anything to hurt him. Certainly not to this magnitude.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, striking it as hard as he wished that he could hit himself, palm burning where it collided with the material. 

“Fuck!” he screamed.   

Face falling into one of his hands, palm rubbing at his forehead and eyes, he drew in a deep, ragged breath. Wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy pulled himself together, hands curling around the steering wheel after he put the car back into gear, beginning to once more drive through the dark streets of Small Heath, bouncing slightly along the uneven cobblestones. 

He’d drive around for a while before heading home, he decided. To collect his thoughts and figure out just how the hell he was going to tell Lucy about all of this. 

A few blocks down the road from home, he came across a flower shop. Breaking in was no trouble, and he left a few shillings on the counter for the bouquet he’d stolen, closing the store up just as he’d found it, settling the flowers on the passenger seat gingerly, making sure that they didn’t get squished. 

It felt like not even close to enough given the circumstances, but he had to do something nice for her. 

The time spent driving and thinking had only served to triple the anxiety he’d already felt in regards to telling her. 

He glanced over at the flowers, swallowing painfully. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t leave him. 

Still, the thought did little to soothe his nerves, nor did it stifle the swirling self hatred that tormented him the entire drive home. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy ran a hand over her hair, sighing and swirling the whiskey in her glass before raising it to her lips for a sip. Her eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Even the very thought of having to change from her work clothes into a nightgown for bed seemed to be too much effort.

After getting home, she’d grabbed a quick snack from the pantry, chatted with Finn for a little while, and then went upstairs to tuck Charlie in and read to him a chapter of the book she and Tommy had been reading to him every night before bed when they were able. He’d crashed about halfway through, and she’d quietly pecked his forehead before placing the bookmark between the pages, switching off the light, and departing from the room to let the little boy sleep.

Standing there in the middle of her and Tommy’s makeshift bedroom, she tapped the metal of her rings against the glass containing her drink, just staring into space. It had been a hard, long day. She hoped that Tommy would be home soon. 

Frowning, she took a look at her pocket watch, wondering just what could be taking him so long. She set it down onto the vanity with a soft clink, just as she heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside. 

Speak of the Devil.

A moment later she heard the sounds of the front door being opened, and then boots on the stairs. 

She set her glass down beside her pocket watch on the vanity, turning with a smile to the door when it opened. 

“Hey–” whatever else she might’ve been about to say died on her tongue the moment that she saw his face. He looked ashen, nearly ill; his blue eyes miserable, fixed on her with what she could only call regret and desperation. “What’s going on?” she asked, gaze dropping to the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. Tommy swallowed hard, setting the bouquet aside onto the nightstand and taking a step towards her, resting both hands on her upper arms. 

“Lucy…” his voice wobbled a little at the end of uttering her name, breaking eye contact to look down. Her brows pulled inwards in response to the look of outright shame that crossed his face. 

When he looked up at her it was to gently stroke his fingertips down her cheek, eyes fixed upon her face as if trying to memorize it. Like he expected that at any moment she would walk out the door and never return.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly. Her heart jumped into her throat, confusion only building. It wasn’t like declarations of his love for her were a particularly rare occurrence, but there was something about his tone that had a plume of dread twisting inside of her. “I’m so, so sorry, love.” 

“What…?”

He replaced his hand on her upper arm, looking down again for only a moment, collecting himself, before forcing his eyes to meet hers. The regret and misery in them nearly bowled her over. 

“Lizzie is pregnant.”

Lucy stared at him, feeling as though she’d been punched. Like that moment after the wind was knocked out of you and you felt as though you might never be able to catch your breath again.

“O-oh,” was all she managed to say, head spinning with a thousand possibilities, a thousand thoughts all at once. She did not need to ask him if the baby was his; the grave, regretful way that he had told her was answer enough to that question. 

Tommy was still holding onto her, watching her reaction beseechingly with barely concealed fear. Still looking at her like he expected at any moment for her to wrench herself from his grasp and push him away. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.  

“What–um…what about…are we…?” she could not seem to be able to put together a proper sentence, too many questions, all needing to be asked and yet dreaded to be answered, perched on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but not really succeeding. “She’s keeping it?” she managed to get out. Tommy nodded. Her head bobbed in numb acknowledgement. She’d thought as much, given the way he was behaving. 

Saw her chance and fucking took it, she caught herself thinking bitterly, and shoved the thought down with a wince. Tommy’s hands tightened a little against her arms, looking as though he wanted to pull her closer, but was unsure if she would actually be agreeable to him doing so.

A baby. Tommy was going to have another baby. With someone else. The one thing that Lucy could never give him–that fact only a twist to the knife already embedded in her flesh. She was struck harshly with a potent sense of deja vu, teleported back to the day of the Derby, after all the excitement was over and Tommy told her in the car on the way home that Grace was pregnant with his child. 

Except this time was not at all the same, was it?   

Grace had loved her. Grace had wanted her around. Had accepted and openly encouraged her relationship with Tommy, as well as her position as a second mother figure in Charlie’s life. Lucy knew she would get no such consideration from Lizzie. 

Because–let’s be perfectly frank, here–Lizzie hated her guts. The mask had come off after that day in the canal. Whatever friendliness Lizzie may have shown her before then, Lucy could not help but think that it had to be only because she knew that she needed to play nice with her in order to remain close to Tommy. It hurt; she genuinely thought that they might’ve been on their way to finally becoming friends.

You idiot, she chastised herself. They should never have started things back up with Lizzie. But maybe this was what they deserved, for so flippantly using Lizzie as a stand-in to fulfill their own grief-fueled fantasies. 

Lizzie would want her gone. Of that, she had no doubt. She wondered how long it would be before her first attempt at jettisoning her from Tommy’s life. Perhaps she had already tried after telling Tommy the news.

A horrible thought barreled into her mind with the force of a freight train, her gaze, having drifted to stare blankly around the room while she thought, snapping back to Tommy’s. Fear locked its hands firmly around her throat.

“Are you leaving me for her?” she forced herself to ask, voice quiet and trembling. Tommy’s eyes widened. 

“No! No, I’d never leave you,” he cradled the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning desperately into the strong warmth of his touch. 

“Does Lizzie know that?”

“Yes; I told her.”

After she undoubtedly asked you to throw me out onto the street without a second thought. “I’m sure she was thrilled.”

He took hold of her face with both hands, tilting it to look at him. “I made it clear that if she wants to have this baby, she’s going to have to make peace with the fact that you are a part of my life.”

She gave him a despondent look. “And do you really think that she will?”

Tommy frowned. “She’s going to have to.”

She nodded, slowly, movements jerky and numb. Guilt and confliction roiled around inside her. Of course she did not want for him to throw her away, but…it all just seemed so incredibly unfair to Lizzie.

He may have put his foot down this time. But what about the next? Or the dozen after that? What about after the baby comes? 

If Lizzie decided to force him to choose between Lucy or her and the child…

Lucy was not fool enough to think that she’d ever be the triumphant party should a choice like that be put before him. Nor would she want to be. The thought that she could ever be what came between him and his children made her feel physically ill. 

Within seemingly a matter of moments, the entire dynamic had shifted, the power structure reversing. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly small and inconsequential. Nonessential when put into the grand scheme of things. Lizzie was going to be the mother of his child, now. That automatically put her high above Lucy in the hierarchy of important women in Tommy’s life.   

They were connected forever, now. Lizzie’s place at Tommy’s side was secure. More so than Lucy’s was, even. Through the baby they would share a bond that Lucy would never be able to have with him. 

The dark pit of despair was opening wider within her mind, beckoning her to its edge, encouraging her to spiral down into its ink-black depths.  

She swayed on her feet, a violent shudder going through her, a small sound emitting from her throat. She pulled suddenly away from Tommy, staggering forwards, not even entirely sure where she thought she was going. It was only when she drew away from his body that she realized just how imperative his presence had been in holding her together.

“Luce?” Tommy asked, voice worried, and she could sense him hovering behind her, wanting to reach out, but hesitating, unsure if his touch was still welcome. 

Slowly, without even processing what she was doing, she lowered herself to the floor, sitting with her back propped up against the side of the bed, knees curled underneath her. Knuckles raising to press against her lips, she fought to contain the strangled sob that came from her throat. But more were coming, hot tears pooling in her eyes to run down her cheeks. 

“Oh, love,” Tommy said, and then he was sitting down beside her, shoulder pressing against hers, arm wrapping around her, hand cradling her head and pulling it to tuck into his shoulder. “Come here.”

Her cheek pressing into the warmth of his body seemed to break whatever lingering composure she’d been clinging to, eyes squeezing shut, entire weight slumping against him, violent sobs starting to wrack through her entire body. 

“Shh…” he wrapped his other arm around her and started to rock them both from side to side, petting her head while his lips pressed to her red hair.   

She cried hard into him for a good long while, face squished into his shirt, probably getting makeup smudges all over the material. He held her very, very tightly, nearly crushing her into him and continuing to press kisses all around the crown of her head until she settled, sobbing giving way to quiet sniffles.   

“Sorry,” she drew back, not far enough to pull free from his embrace, but just enough that she could scrub at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “I’m fine, really, I’m just feeling sorry for myself…”

“Don’t…don’t apologize. You have every right to be upset.”

When she craned her head up to look at him, she was met with an agonized look in his wide eyes. His hand was still holding her head, the feel of his strong palm resting atop her hair a comforting, protective presence. His thumb stroked over her hair. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, distraught over the pain he was causing her overtaking his face. Lucy shook her head, letting her cheek rest more solidly where he had her tucked into his chest. 

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“We both should’ve.” The choice to take Lizzie down to the canal had been a joint effort, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, lips parting, then closing, a fearful look Lucy almost never saw from him entering into his eyes. 

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand…” he sounded like he was in physical pain as he forced the words out, hardly able to meet her gaze, looking away as if already mentally preparing himself for her to reject him. 

She blinked up at him, taken aback. The look on his face broke her heart, the agony at the mere idea of her walking away from him perpetual and crippling. 

“No, that’s not…” she trailed off, shifting slightly, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel him noticeably relax against her. “You won’t. You won’t.” He squeezed her as if afraid to let her go. 

“What are we going to do?” she asked, finally, once he’d loosened his grip just enough for her to lean back and peer up at him again. Tommy sighed the sigh of the terminally exhausted.

“I told Lizzie I’d give her a weekly allowance and buy a nice house for her and the baby. I wanted to talk to you first before discussing any other details with her.”

She nodded, appreciating the gesture, and swallowed hard around the next question, voice quiet and still a little thick with tears. “Are you going to marry her?”

Tommy frowned. “I’m not planning to.”

“That could hurt your reputation…”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, and sighed again. “We’ll deal with that if we have to.” Large fingers swept some of her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. “Even if I did…that doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t still…”

Lucy looked away, down at her hands where she’d started unconsciously fiddling with her rings. “Lizzie might not be agreeable to that.”

“I’m not exactly going to leave it up to negotiation,” he tilted her face upwards, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more. “We come as a pair.”

“She doesn’t like me, Tommy.”

“She’s had her moments of unpleasantness, but I really don’t think she hates you as much as you think–”

“In her eyes, I’ll always be the primary obstacle between you and her finally being able to be together.”

“That’s not true.” He must have seen something in her face, because his gaze sharpened, shifting closer to her on the floor, jaw setting stubbornly, deadly serious. “Hey, look at me,” he commanded, gently, waiting until she did before he continued. “We’re going to be okay,” he swore. “I love you so much. I’m not going to leave you. Not now; not ever, alright?”

“She might make you…”

“She can’t make me do anything. I’m not leaving you, and if that upsets her, that’s her problem. She knows what our arrangement is; I made it as clear as I possibly could.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of any problems for you, Tommy…” Lucy mumbled weakly. It was her job–literally–to help make his life easier. If her presence started to become the root of serious issues…

“You could never be a problem for me,” he sounded wholly astonished at the mere suggestion. Holding her face as though it were the most precious thing in the entire world, he stroked her cheek rhythmically with the pad of his thumb. Those blue eyes pierced into her, urgent and sincere. “I love you, Lucy.”    

She swallowed hard, forcing back another welling of tears. With it, she squashed down the still enduring batch of insecurities roiling within her, agitated and threatening to bubble to the surface like an unattended stew. Everything still felt raw, heart aching in her chest, but the comfort that Tommy’s touch and earnest words provided helped. 

She believed that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight, and she believed that he loved her. 

It was always possible that she was being unjustly harsh in her assessment of how Lizzie would behave regarding the whole situation. They had been getting along prior to the whole threesome by the canal business, after all. Maybe things really could be okay between them.  

“I love you too,” she said, and he gave her a weak smile. 

“I…erm,” he turned, keeping one arm around her while he stretched up to grab the bouquet he’d left on the nightstand after first entering the room. “I got you these.”

She took the bouquet from him, burying her nose in sweetly smelling, freshly cut blossoms. “Where on earth did you even get a bouquet of flowers so late at night?”

“I, uh, broke into a floral shop a little ways down the road.”

“Tommy!”

“What!? I left some money on the counter and closed it up just as I found it.”

She gave him an affectionate smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He looked at the bouquet with a frown. “It was the least that I could do, given the circumstances.” 

A lump formed in her throat. It may have been a small gesture, all things considered, but the thoughtfulness of it wasn’t lost on her. 

“Thank you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the arm that was around her returning to cradling the side of her head.

He was always so sweet with her, in a way that she knew he never was with anyone else. The efforts that he made to take care of and prioritize her had always been of significance, and she was forever aware of just how lucky she was that he so genuinely, deeply loved her. 

Treacherous, her mind yanked her back to Lizzie and the baby. Between them, Charlie, the company, the war with Changretta, various family affairs, and her, it was getting awfully crowded on Tommy’s priority list.

Maybe everything would work itself out.

Or maybe not. 

First guess who on that list would be the first to go. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, and his voice was like the sudden yank of a rope, pulling her up out from under the water she’d slipped beneath, sputtering back into the open air. “Stop getting stuck in your own head.”

A tearful laugh left her lips. “Pot, meet kettle.”

He snorted a little against her hair where his lips were currently pressed. 

She sniffled, head resting more firmly against his shoulder. Tommy squeezed his arm around her, until she was tucked tightly into his warm side. “Don’t ever let me go,” she pleaded. He turned his head from where his cheek was resting against her head to kiss her hair. 

“Never. I promise.”

Angling her head up, Lucy pressed her nose to his throat, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and lingering smoke. He smelled of pine; like a campfire in the middle of the woods. Like safety. Like home. 

She ghosted her lips tentatively across his neck, feeling him respond to her touch instantaneously, fingers curling under her chin, head tilting down so that he could catch her lips with his. The kiss was slow and infinitely gentle, soft mouth moving against hers like he was trying to pour his love into her with each caress. Even after their lips broke apart, he began earnestly kissing the lingering remnants of her tears away. Gingerly setting her bouquet aside, she twisted her body to press more tightly against his, Tommy’s hands encouraging her to slide into his lap.

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him again, lips parting to his, head angling to allow the meeting of their mouths to become deeper. Warmth from his large hand where it was pressed to the middle of her back seeped in through her shirt.   

“Mm. Are you sure?” he asked, nosing at her hair, hands cradling her in close, so that she was firmly straddling his hips.

“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding, fingers diving into his hair. Tommy kissed her again, the hand on her back sliding up to cradle the back of her head, the other stroking her thigh. Rising up from where he’d been seated and taking her with him, his strong arms lifted her up onto his torso. Hooking her legs around his waist to help him, she moaned softly as he turned them, promptly depositing her on her back on the bed behind them, falling with her so that his body almost entirely covered hers. Now that she’d started kissing him, she was unable to stop. Desperation seeped sharply into her blood, each pump of her heart sending it pulsing out to permeate her entire body.  

Maybe it was out of need for comfort. Maybe it was out of a desire to claim him. She was not entirely sure. 

Each kiss served as a reminder that he still loved her. That he wanted her. That he was there with her. He would not leave her alone. They would be okay; he would make sure of it.  

Clothes slid off, tossed in a shapeless pile on the floor where they’d just been seated. She whined when Tommy broke their kiss to instead suck at her neck, steadily making his way down her body, caressing her breasts, nuzzling at her scars, kissing every inch of naked skin laid out before him. 

The groan he let out when she grabbed his hair and steered his face towards where she needed him had her thighs twitching around his head. Heels crossing against his back, she tried to draw him in even closer, whimpering with her head thrown back when he licked a long stripe from the base of her entrance all the way up to her clit, wrapping his lips around it to give the sensitive bud a sharp suck. She could feel his eyes on her, observing her reactions to ensure that she was enjoying herself as he set to work pleasuring her. 

With fingers and tongue, he brought her to the edge of coming within minutes. But while his movements were earnest in their goal to please her, he was not hurried. Each and every movement seemed to carry with it the need to telegraph his love for her. Tender motions and soft touches. Praises whispered into her skin. Eyes heartful and adoring when they bored into her. 

He did not stop until he’d made her come twice, and only then it was because she had to nudge his head away to give herself a chance to catch her breath. The way that he snuggled his face into her palm had tears pricking the corners of her eyes, thumb stroking over his lips.

His brows creased when he spotted the film of tears preparing to spill down her cheeks, hand raising hastily to her face, half pushing himself up onto his arms to hover over her. 

“I’m okay,” she shook her head, covering his hand with hers where it cupped her cheek. He searched her face for a long moment, worry giving way to sadness. She supposed that he understood just as much as she did that the ache of what was happening with Lizzie would not leave for her a long time–if ever. 

“I love you,” she heard him whisper, dropping his face to kiss her hip. He climbed halfway on top of her, then wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully sinking his weight onto her and resting his head between her breasts, just laying on her for a moment in an embrace that she could have happily remained within for years. Hands rubbing up and down his back, she kissed the top of his head, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. 

Tommy just held her for a moment that could have stretched eons or just a few simple minutes, before stirring in response to the light strokes she started to pet through his hair, lips pressing to the curve of her breast. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, pleasantly warm and heavy against her. When she adjusted her legs so they were looped around his waist, heel resting against the swell of his ass, Tommy let out a soft groan at the way her smooth skin shifted and rubbed against his cock with the movement, lifting his head to peer up at her.  

Slowly, he raised himself up onto his arms, balancing above her, and she was struck with the disparity between their two sizes. He was massive in comparison to her; Lucy’s body petite enough in its small stature and his large enough in its muscular build that he could cover her completely if he wanted. 

But the way that his body curled over hers was not threatening in the slightest. She had never felt so protected in her life. He was warm, and solid, and safe, handling her like the mere thought of hurting her was too agonizing to bear.

Palms flat to the pillow on either side of her head, he kissed her, the sensual slowness of his mouth moving against hers enough to have her practically melting in his arms.

“Please,” she begged between kisses, needing to feel him, needing the physical proof that he still loved her, that he was still hers.  

Not ceasing the press of their lips, Tommy reached down to take himself in hand, stroking a few times and swiping the head of his cock between her folds to gather up the wetness glistening there. 

He entered her slowly, hips pushing languidly forward until they were flush to hers. Lucy moaned at the stretch, legs tightening around him, hands landing on his back. He cupped the side of her face, still kissing her, breaths heavy, as he very leisurely started to rock his hips. 

A pleasured sigh left Lucy’s lips. He was so close. Buried inside her, getting as deep as he could possibly go with each thrust, chest pressed tight to hers, hands all over her. 

“Fuck, you feel good. You feel so good,” he husked between kisses. “I love you so much, Lucy.”

A lump formed in her throat at the way he said it, a sharp moan cutting her off before she could repeat the words back to him. He was still going slow, but his hand had joined the mix, fingers circling around her clit. 

His love was radiating off of him in waves, every touch, kiss, and thrust made with the intention of communicating the ferocity of his feelings for her. Truly making love rather than just fucking. It was nearly enough to bring her to tears, body shaking as it absorbed all the affection he had to give her like a sponge. Her walls tightened as the pleasure built between her legs, a moan bubbling up from within her chest. 

Strands of Tommy’s fringe, having fallen forward, tickled her face, his head turning to nuzzle at her cheek. 

“Tommy…I’m…”

“I know,” he purred, lips ghosting over her freckled skin. “Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”  

Back arching, she wailed as she fell apart around him, nails digging into his shoulders and head thrown back. Tommy growled, face burying in her neck, hand going to her thigh, pressing down gently to get her to open up a little wider for her, hips never ceasing their deep rolls as he rode her through her orgasm and almost straight into another one. She clawed at his back, angling her head so that she could bury her face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groan from within his throat as she sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. 

“Lucy…” he grunted, pace stuttering slightly. The muscles in his back were tensing, his forehead coming to rest on hers, eyes glazed with pleasure. She could feel him all around her, inside her, cock swelling with his impending release, eyes staring into hers intensely. One of his hands, the one not still occupied with her clit, took hold of hers, interlacing their fingers and pressing them into the mattress by her head.

The look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. Devotion emblazoned as brightly as the sun within them. 

I will love you forever, that was what he’d told her when they created the blood bond that left the scars that still marked the palms they had clasped together. It had been true, then. And she knew, the full realization of it crashing upon her all at once, that it was true now.

He was still hers. He was still her Tommy.

Tears welled into her eyes, overwhelmed a little by both the immense pleasure he was giving her, and the sudden, absolute surety of her realization. 

She gasped, the tip of his cock grinding against her g-spot each time he bottomed out. Tommy’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling a little in his skull, hand tightening in hers. His cock twitched inside her, and at the same moment his thumb pressed hard on her clit, and she cried out as, with a growl and the first burst of his seed emptying inside her, he pulled her right along with him over the edge.  

She started sobbing almost immediately, flinging her arms around his shoulders and hugging him so tightly, it was a wonder that he could breathe. He hugged her back, thick arms wrapping around her waist, face burying itself in her neck. His hips were flush against hers, twitching slightly with the last spasms of his release, cock still buried snugly inside of her. 

She wished that they could have stayed like that forever. 

Tears rushed down her cheeks, lips trembling as she pressed them together. The soft, thick tendrils of his hair slid through her fingers, hand smoothing down the base of his skull, feeling the velvety prickle of the shaved sides of his head, following the slope down his neck to stroke his strong back. 

Tommy turned his face to kiss her shoulder, then her neck. When his lips pressed to her cheek and he tasted the saltiness of sheded tears there, he pulled back, eyes wide with concern, immediately moving to push himself off of her and pull out.   

“N-no,” she tightened her legs around him, latching onto his shoulders with a twinge of franticness. “I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. I just,” she let out an embarrassed laugh, rolling her watery eyes at her body’s over dramatic reaction to the sensations and emotions that had just crescendoed inside her. “Am having a lot of feelings right now.”

He cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away a few of the tears. God, she must look like a mess given all the crying she’d been doing tonight.

“Bad feelings?” he asked, gaze soft but still worried, eyes fluttering when she brushed the pads of her fingers down his cheek.

“No,” her thumb traced over the spot that often dimpled when he smiled, swallowing hard, raising her head up so that their noses bumped lightly against each other. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

His throat convulsed in what she recognized as an effort to swallow down tears, emotion rushing into his eyes. 

“I love you too.” His forehead returned to its spot resting against hers. Both inhaled deeply as they kissed. When finally they parted, it was only so that Tommy could pull gingerly out of her oversensitive core, turning over to lay beside her on his side, gathering her up into his arms and tucking her into his chest. Lucy snuggled against him, closing her eyes while he stroked her hair.       

“I mean it,” he said softly, cheek pillowing against the top of her head. “All of it. We’re going to be just fine. I’m not going to let you go; not unless you really want me to. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”  

She kissed the center of his chest a few times, murmuring similar assertions into his skin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I love you too. No matter what. I can’t imagine any possible scenarios where I would ever want to leave you.”

Maybe that made her horrifically selfish, to not be willing to dutifully bow out of the equation so he and Lizzie could make a proper go of things. But she could not just let Tommy go like that. Without him, she would never be happy again, and she could not just abandon him and all the work they’d done. If something happened to him and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself. 

And, if the display of affection he’d just showered her with was of any significance, he would be heartbroken if she left. 

Besides, where would she even fucking go? Her only remaining family were her cousins and aunt in the caravans in the mountains, and she hadn’t spoken properly to any of them in years. 

He seemed incapable of ceasing gentle touches to her face, tracing the outlines of her lips and cheekbones, mapping out patterns in the constellations of freckles smattering her skin, before cradling almost the entirety of her cheek in his large palm.  

“I know…I know how hard and how…shit this all is for you. Thank you for staying with me.” The tenderness, combined with the utter relief and bountiful gratefulness in his eyes, had her heart twisting in her chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She stretched up to kiss him again, both their lips plenty swollen from the amount of times they’d snogged.

“We’re gonna be alright,” she whispered. Tommy nodded, arms tightening around her. 

“We should both probably try to get some sleep.”

Laying her head back down on his chest, she snuggled in closer to him with a sigh. “Yeah.”

Realistically, neither of them was probably going to sleep all that much, but at least they could try to get some rest. Tommy shifted to flick off the light on the bedside table, arm returning to join the other back around her. Lucy closed her eyes at the feeling of him nuzzling into her hair, squishing in as close as she could get to his chest. 

It was not until the early hours of the morning, the sun already beginning to crest over the horizon, when either of them actually managed to slip into a proper doze. But the entire night, they held onto each other, not once letting go.

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[rogue--nation]

Uncommon Simon Ghost Riley (mostly for OG than Reboot) Headcanons that I find realistic.

1. Social Anxiety and Communication Issues. Simon finds it difficult to communicate with people outside his field of work, especially women. He doesn't have much experience with them and he is afraid to be perceived as a freak. However, women are usually afraid of him, sometimes curious, but keep away, feeling this sense of uneasiness, awkwardness around him. It is simply because he doesn't know how to be a so called normal person. Nothing about him is quite normal. Military has always been a significant part of his life, of him entirely. He doesn't know what to talk about or even finds civilian life boring. Every time he is on a shore leave he feels like an outsider among the locals. He keeps to himself to save himself from a conflict or an embarrassment. But if he gets comfortable enough around someone, he can be perceived as a very interesting and intelligent person. Simon usually gets rid of this anxiety by drinking. A little bit of alcohol percentage really makes him a normal person.

2. Soldier intuition and reflexes. It helps him a lot and sometimes... It causes trouble. Intuition sure saves his life in tricky situations and also this same intuition makes him read the signs wrong and cause a misunderstanding, a fight or a conflict, especially around civilians. Let's say, he casually activates his fight or flight response. Not always, of course, but there are some instances that make his life a lot harder than it has to be.

3. Adrenaline addiction. He is very paranoid. Always ready for a fight. Maybe even looking for it, looking for trouble. Civilian life indeed is boring for him for this lack of adrenaline release, so sometimes he intentionally escalates situation to let out some steam, despite being a very calm person by nature. (IDK maybe that's why he still lives in Manchester, there's always trouble).

4. PTSD. Yes, he suffers from it. Especially after Brazil and Rojas. He's been tortured psychologically, physically. Beaten up, raped, buried alive with a corpse. And he fucking survived. It didn't make him stronger, it broke him. It killed something that doesn't let him step away now. This very mission has branded him, cursed him to go on and never lay down his weapon. There's no way back from battlefield for him. He has nightmares, but tries to cope with them. Most of the time he is to tired to have a very emotional reaction to such dreams. And he wears himself down to have a dreamless sleep.

5. He knows a bit of Spanish and Portuguese. And he understands when locals speak these languages, he can read and easily communicate, but he prefers to not show off this skill too much, this is a tactical decision. The less enemy knows about you, the less they're expecting.

6. Detachment from him face. He almost forgot how he looks like in the mirror, he barely looks in it. When he thinks about his face, he mostly thinks about his mask. It's a part of him now, like an another layer of skin. The skull pattern on it is an echo from the masquerade paint he had on his face during Los Muertos. He metaphorically died back there in Brazil, died in the hands of his torturers. He is shell of a man he used to be. He is Ghost now. Phantasma.

When he has to take it off, especially in civilian environment, he feels naked, unsafe. Like if he is stripped of something that makes him who he is. It's almost an equivalent for a regular person to put on a mask and hide their face. The mask IS Simon's face.

7. Emotional spectre and control of them. He has a hard time processing and understanding his emotions sometimes. He reads anger well. Despair, too. They're common. But others, more complex states are a mystery to him. Cause-and-effect relationships of his own mind are troubling time to time. He well knows what can trigger him. And when Simon understands what's bothering him, he can develop means to control it.

The struggle to read himself, however, does not affect his ability to read others, especially the enemies. He can predict what they're about to do, how they're going to react.

On the outside, he tries not to show much, but his voice reveals his emotions in critical moments: the screams, the stutter, the growl.

8. Need for affection. Like any other human being he needs attention, care, words of affirmation. He lacks it in his life. Yeah, he is on a good terms with his team, he is stoic and self-contained, but deep inside he is needy. Physical touch, emotional connection, romantic love.. he aches for it. But his logical side clearly understands that he is impossible to love. He is a troubled man. Wrecked. No one would ever want him in their life. A burden. Loving someone like him is a death sentence. So, there's this emptiness within him.

His perfect match would be someone "normal", mature and understanding. By saying "understanding" I don't mean just being able to accept him as he is, but someone having a similar experience in life, someone, who knows how to cope with trauma. And this significant other shouldn't be a "crutch" for Simon, because in my opinion such relationship wouldn't last long. It's not about fixing him, but about showing him that things can be different if he finds other means to cope with his demons than just restlessly fighting. He has to make a choice: to keep himself in that vicious bloody cycle or finally step up and take another challenge. I don't think he can actually change, but he definitely can make it work if someone believes in him.

Yes, he can hire a prostitute and let out some tension, but he will feel terrible afterwards. If, of course, he will actually be able to get intimate at all, by setting aside all the anxiety, fear and hate he has for himself . It's easier to take care of himself on his own.

Talking about sexuality. As I mentioned, he is not very experienced and he gets intimate rarely, so at first he doesn't last long at all. He can be a bit awkward, but he is never rough, since he has enough violence in his life and for him the act of making love is about tenderness. He would never want to harm or hurt his partner in any way. He is usually quiet in bed, but can be very audible from time to time when he simply cannot control himself.

[shirefantasies]

Hello! I'm sick and on a major Hobbit/LotR kick. I found your blog and I'm in love with your writing! If possible, could I request something like how Thorin's company (specifically Kili, but can add others) would react upon discovering reader has Trichotillomania (anxiety-induced hair plucking disorder)? I know it sounds kinda stupid, but it just popped into my head.

-🦅

Not stupid at all! Pulling at/out my hair if I’m anxious or have no fidgets is kind of something I do and tend to have characterized as a “bad habit” so I so get this! But our hair is precious as our lovely dwarves will remind us 😌 hopefully this is accurate, I included feelings I have when I’ve had anxiety/panic attacks, too, & just got carried away with some of them! If this is not a good representation, my apologies in advance love 🙏🏻

Trichotillomania- Thorin’s Company x Reader

Balin

“If ever you wish to talk, I hope you know this old dwarf’s ears still work.” Eyes widening, then narrowing as they looked up at Balin standing there the sunshine, you found yourself nodding and wringing at the ends of your sleeves. “Thank you,” you replied, “but why all of a sudden?” “I can tell you’ve been under some stress, and I can’t pretend I don’t understand. But ‘tis always better to talk about it than take it out on ourselves. Or each other, but I can’t foresee that being a problem with you,” the older dwarf winked. “No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, “I have no plans to start a fight. It may sound silly to you, what I have to say.” “Please,” Balin waved a hand, smiling lightly. You loved the way he always said ‘laddie’ or ‘lassie’. “I grew up with Dwalin and then the princes running around underfoot for how many years? Daresay I’m an expert at the inane by now.” “In that case, I’ll think of it as some free entertainment for you,” you joked back.

Dwalin

“Have you ever considered shaving it all off?” Frowning, you drop your hands and swivel to face the bald dwarf. You hadn’t exactly expected anyone to catch you having a panic attack in the woods, let alone cut through it with sarcasm. Body freezing, you wracked your brain for a response. Dwalin, it seemed, perceived that, changed his tone. “‘m not makin’ fun of you. Might feel good if y’ don’t mind looking like me. Ever you want to, just say the word and I can help.” Rough as his words were, you could sense the care behind them. Would it feel better to be rid of your compulsions completely, to have a fresh start? Whether you truly considered it or not, well aware were you how meaningful a suggestion it was by the warrior. “You say that as though looking like you is an insult,” you simply replied and gave him a nudge.

Thorin

Joint discovery. That is the word you would use to describe the night. Thorin had jolted awake suddenly, taking deep, panting breaths you could see heaving beneath his bedroll as you sat on watch duty, shock, concern, and anxiety increasing your own reactions. Coming to, the king-to-be took in the sight of you, sighed at the familiarity, thought better of it as his brows knitted. “Did you just have a nightmare?” You asked, and all but simultaneously Thorin said he saw the way your hands wrung your head. “Quite a bad habit,” you replied sheepishly, “but you really should go back to sleep.” “I think I would prefer to stay awake for a time, if that is alright,” Thorin responded, sitting up and brushing some long black hair off his shoulder. “Of course,” you told him, surprised but smiling at the way he shuffled to sit at your side. Tentatively you reached out a hand. “May I?” The king gave a silent nod, prompting you to gently rub his back, content at the new, more soothing occupation of your hand.

Oin

It all started when Oin was given bedroll duty, taking up all the members’ nighttime dwellings to carry once more. Upon yours, he could not help noticing, was a mass of hair, an unusual amount even for a race so conscious of its shedding. Approaching you, he asked if you’d not been feeling well, perhaps wanted to try an oil to care for your hair with or an herbal supplement to bring your strength back. Eyes shining at his generosity, you break down and admit your nervous habit, the way your hands go to your hair especially in the dark of night when all seems lost. From then on he appoints himself your personal hair carer, even teaches you new ways to style it that might keep it more safely out of the way. His hands work so gently over your hair, undoing the irritation and pain it had endured for so long and bringing a soft smile of contentment to your lips.

Gloin

Heavy breaths mingle with your own, prompting you to snap briefly enough from your reverie to register the dwarf running toward you with great stomping steps. Jumping a bit, you find yourself goggling at Gloin, who rests his hands on his knees and heaves a few more times before addressing you. “Now what’s brought this on? Can’t have you hurting yourself.” ‘Hurting yourself’ was never a consideration you’d made, but you supposed your hair was less precious to you than it was to the rest of your companyman. “You- you weren’t supposed to see that,” you told Gloin, folding your hands in your lap. At that, though, the auburn-haired dwarf waved a hand. “Nothing to be ashamed of. If it’s botherin’ you up there, why don’t you try one of these?” Any of the dwarves reaching into their pockets worried you a bit, but your mind races for his brief rummage until he produces a small article that looks somewhere between a cap and a bonnet. “Keep it safe up there. And if ya need something to do, why, come play a few rounds with my brother and I! That’ll keep your hands moving so fast you’ll forget you have ‘em!” “Hands or worries?” You laugh shakily. Luckily, Gloin gives a huge laugh at your awkward joke, patting you on the back. “Both if we’re lucky!”

Bifur

Far gentler about it than one might expect from him. He knows what it is like to have trauma, though, to have PTSD even if he doesn’t have that word for it. Thus he can read the signs of anxiety from a league off and tends to shuffle to your side during those moments. He knows his way of communication draws focus, attention, so as he sees you tugging at your hair he begins to sign questions. Simple questions, but ones you must then answer. “What is your name?” You tell him. “What is your name?” He signs again. Even through the spikes of overwhelming weight, the way the world closes in on you, you find yourself trying to remember how to sign your name if you know it, indicate you can’t if you don’t. Nodding, Bifur keeps this method going, cutting slowly but surely into the spiral and even telling you at the end of it that you are precious…all of you.

Bofur

“Hey, hey, whoa, what’s all this, huh?” Starting, you see Bofur appraching you, clearly having caught you ripping at your hair. Before you can respond his gloved hands fall over yours, removing them gently. “Feeling a mite stressed?” World still pressing in on you, you just nod, and Bofur’s hazel eyes soften. “Well, I don’t much are for seeing ya hurt yerself. Tell ye what: why don’t we try this instead?” Sitting up straighter, you peer up at the dwarf to see him unwinding his scarf and draping it over your shoulders. “Next time you don’t feel good, try playin’ with this instead. I like to mess with the little fringe on the end myself.” Fingers thoughtfully caressing the dangling edges, you smile as the scent of him rushes to you, grounding you that much more. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” he nods, patting your shoulder, “it’s all yours. Then again, I daresay it’s long enough for the both of us.” He winks and you grin all the way this time.

Bombur

“You get served first tonight,” Bombur tells you one evening, nodding to the carven bowl in your hand. “Me,” you ask, “why?” “Can tell you’ve been having a bad day is all,” the fiery-haired dwarf replied as he plucked the vessel from your hand, “and if you aren’t feelin’ well, well, extra to you!” Did he think you were sick? “This is just something that happens to me, though,” you told him, “it is not new." "Well," Bombur filled your bowl up high as he could, "more nourishment for that pretty hair of yours, and tell you what- next time you feel like pullin' it out, how's about asking for a hug instead?" Pausing, you accepted the warm wood he handed you. "You feel no shame at that?" "No," he replied, voice quietened, "I will only feel lucky." "As will I," you told him with a smile, knowing how Bombur gave the company's greatest and warmest hugs.

Dori

Dori, you knew, had the habit of hovering over his brothers, whether it was keeping them from their squabbles or ensuring they would not be catching cold, but you were hardly used to receiving such attention the day he sat at your side, insisting you share a cup of tea with him. Gently setting the steaming cup in your hands, the eldest Ri brother started asking you questions about how you were feeling, if the company treated you well. Sharing some stories and laughs about the others first, you finally asked him what this tea was all about. Well, in the most literal sense, Dori told you it was a calming blend with a bit of something Oin said helped hair grow and even a small dash of sugar he was able to scrounge up! Beyond that, well… “You don’t take care of yourself,” he replies, your name heavy but sweet upon his lips, “so I thought I could do it for you. I’m used to that, you know. Your hair is beautiful as your smile, so I suppose I wanted to protect both. Sorry if that’s silly.” Letting your head fall on his shoulder, you cupped your warm tea a bit tighter, tears welling in your eyes. “Not at all, Dori. Not at all.”

Nori

“Have you been itchin’?” Nori asks you one night, sending your gaze rapidly swiveling his way. “I beg your pardon?” “Couldn’t help but notice the way your hair is botherin' you," he replies with a shrug as he passes your bowl. Accepting your nightly meal, you sigh. "No, it isn't that, I... I get anxious. Don't know why I do it, but I can't help it." "No?" Nori pauses before his signature smirk returns. "But I can!" "Huh?" Dropping your spoon back into the stew incredulously, you turn your attention his way once more. "What do you mean?" "Simple. Just tell me when you get worried. If you like the feeling of something touchin' you, well I think I have that covered." Your eyebrows shoot up at that, raising a bark of laughter from the dwarf. "Whatcha getting in that pretty head of yours? Thought I might hold your hands, put an arm around ya."

Ori

“I made you this.” Ori holds out a knitted bear to you, smiling sheepishly through your zoning stare at the fire. Giving him your full attention, you break into a smile, clutching your gift close as you ask him what it is for. “Well,” the young dwarf rubs at the back of his neck, “I wasn’t trying to see, but, well, I did, so…” “What are you talking about?” Your brows furrow. “I noticed the way you pull out your hair when you get stressed and I thought it might hurt,” Ori replies, voice quiet, “so I made you something you can squeeze instead. It’s alright. He can’t feel the pain. Not like you can.” Tears well up in your eyes; misunderstanding, Ori takes a step back only for you to catch his hand, holding it tight and looking him in the eyes. “Thank you for seeing me. Truly.”

Fili

“You call that a bad habit? Why, you should see what half of this company’s gotten up to in their lifetimes! The sheer number of things they’ve snuck on this very trip,” Fili said with a smirk. A wave of nerves crashed over you, falling into a defensive cross of your arms. “Well, I’m sorry I’m too much of an anxious wreck to be exciting,” you bit out, turning away from him only to feel a hand on your shoulder. “Wait,” Fili breathed your name, “that came out wrong. All I meant is these rapscallions are the ones who have anything to be ashamed of. I’m sorry you have to deal with all that. Please let me make it up to you.” His blue eyes bore into yours, softening earnestly enough to earn him a nod from you. “Alright,” you agreed, “I understand. You were just trying to keep things light, we’ve all done it. What did you have in mind, then?” “Next time you feel nervous, think of me as your personal doll!” “I beg your pardon?” “How many years have I had this hairstyle? More than I can count! Let’s let some good come from those idle hands,” the blonde urged you with a smile, “and play around with each other’s hair instead. What say you?” Blast it- as if if you could ever resist that grin!

Kili

Frantic motions of your hands are interrupted by a softer touch, hands gently running over your scalp. “Care to talk or would you rather just sit?” Kili’s voice, a sound that rarely fails to bring a smile to your face, echoes behind you as he lowers your now-joined forms into a seated position upon an abandoned bedroll. The arm not reaching to your head, seemingly unashamed of the damage you’ve done that sometimes fuels your spirals, is wrapped firmly around your shoulders from the front to hold you against his chest. “I don’t mind either way as long as I’ve got you here.” “Then let us enjoy the silence,” you request quietly, internally fighting the part of you that struggles to accept the blessings you are given. “For as long as this lot’ll let us,” Kili snorts, but with that he presses a kiss to your forehead and continues holding you, fingers shifting to grab one of your hands as he soothes the itching patch of hair you’d been reaching for.

Bilbo

“Oh. Oh, dear, what’s the matter there?” He isn’t trying to make things worse and in fact he’ll get quite apologetic, but the hobbit has never seen such behavior so it raises legitimate, innocently blunt question. The shame, though, does not ease your spike of anxiety, leaving your hands shake with the pressure of both your trigger, your impulse, and the fight of it for fear of Bilbo’s judgment. Suddenly his hand is upon your shoulder. “It’s…a lot, isn’t it? I understand. Typically my go-to is to faint, but I can see why this lot would have you wanting to pull your hair out!” Weakly he swings his arm, clearly trying to joke you out of your state. Your brows furrow, such an unexpected reaction jarring some breaths back into your lungs. You are surprised again when Bilbo takes your hands. “You’re shaking…here, lie back a little, let’s talk, all right?” He listens, apologizes frantically for his ignorant comments, holds your hands still, running a thumb over the back of them.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @kilibaggins @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[trohpi]

@regulily-microfic • july 13: time • 824 words

cross-posted on ao3

Regulus fiddles with the Lego in his hand, staring fixedly at the half-finished Millennium Falcon on the coffee table, illuminated only by the fairy lights Lily brought with her when she moved in. His eyes droop, anxiety pressing in on the outskirts of his mind and keeping desperately needed sleep away. The ungodly early time blinks at him from the oven display, taunting Regulus from the kitchen.

He wishes he could sleep, he really does. He just can’t stop thinking. So much is happening tomorrow, so many things will change—

“Love?”

Regulus blinks. Lily is standing in the hall entrance, the throw from their bed wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is sleep-mussed, auburn curls frizzy where they frame her face. She rubs at her eye, suppressing a yawn.

“Did I wake you?” Regulus sets the Lego down with a click against the wood, his voice nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry, you should go back to bed—”

Lily shuffles over to the coffee table, plopping down on the floor next to him and nudging him with her shoulder. “No, shut up. I’m awake now.”

“Lily…”

She ignores him, blinking quickly to rid the sleep from her eyes. “So, what step are we on?”

Regulus sighs in defeat and hands her the pamphlet with the instructions, and they get to work, slowly piecing together the Millennium Falcon shoulder to shoulder like a well-oiled machine.

This isn’t new. They’ve done this many nights, have been doing this for years. It started when he was sixteen. Those first few months after Lily and her parents took him in following his transphobic mother’s disownment, he could barely sleep. More often than not, he’d wake in a cold sweat with tears in his eyes, memories and nightmares alike haunting him. It was Lily’s dad who started buying him Legos. ‘Something to keep your mind busy,’ he had said.

And Ciarán Evans is a brilliant, brilliant man, because it worked. The tedium and concentration keeps his mind occupied and hands busy, letting him build and build until finally, he can sleep. Lily helps, too. She insists on joining him on nights like this, keeping him company while she helps him work on whichever new set he’s started. He has fewer nightmares now, seven years later, but whenever he does, well. He has his Legos, and he has his Lily.

She’s quiet where she sits next to him, sticking two grey bricks together with a soft click. She hasn’t spoken a word, hasn’t even acknowledged the fact that Regulus should be in bed, tonight most especially. He’s having surgery tomorrow for Christ’s sake, she should be reprimanding him. He knows that she won’t. Lily always waits until he breaks the silence, lets him decide whether he wants to at all. Regulus loves her even more for it.

A beat. Maybe two. “I don’t know why I’m scared.”

Lily hums in acknowledgment, eyes still glued on the model before them. Regulus sighs shakily and sets down the pieces in his hands. “I’ve wanted top surgery forever, you know? I need it, really. I just…”

“Maybe that’s why you’re scared,” Lily offers. “Maybe you’re scared of the possibility that something will change in a bad way, that this magical idea you have of how everything will go won’t happen.”

He swallows, drumming his fingers on the table. “Maybe. I just feel stupid.”

“Regulus,” she says, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes are bright and determined, and his breath catches at the sight. “You’ve never done well with change, you’re not stupid.”

“I know, but—”

“Nope, no buts. Do you really think I wouldn’t tell you if you were being stupid? Because I love you, but I would.”

Regulus huffs a laugh, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I know you would. S’why I love you so much.”

“Regulus Black being sappy? The world must have ended.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, nudging his girlfriend’s shoulder with his own. She chuckles, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. Regulus sighs softly, eyes fluttering shut.

Lily presses a little kiss to the top of his head. “Think you can sleep now?”

“Mm, yeah, probably.”

“Good.” She sits up, disrupting their impromptu cuddle. “Because you need to sleep. You have surgery tomorrow at ten, and look at the time—”

“I was wondering when you would go mother hen on me,” he says with a small smile, and Lily rolls her eyes fondly.

“Worrying for your health is not mother henning.”

“Of course, dear.”

She scoffs lightly and stands, offering her hand to Regulus and pulling him to his feet. Before he can do anything else, Lily tugs him into a tight hug, a hand cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close. He buries his face in her hair, eyes fluttering shut.

Lily kisses him on the head again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, despite your mother henning.”

[batsyforyou]

Caranthir Sleep Headcanons

Pairing: Caranthir x reader

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Another one for the Blanket Series! I hope y’all enjoy! 

Cara is a grumpy baby 🥺

He hates going to bed not only because of his tendency to overwork himself but also because of what he has to do to get ready for bed. 

And will start finding ways to avoid sleep because of it. 

He is one of the few elves who designs and wears his own sleep mask 

He is too embarrassed to show it let alone tell you but he honestly cares more about your sleep than you do.

Always felt guilty when you told him that his open eyed stare sometimes bothered you when he napped.

So when y’all got married and started sharing the same bed he took precautions.

And to avoid risking your sleep quality he put his hair into one of those hair bonnets.

That paired with his sleep mask completely covers any possible elf light issues. 

And any possible creepy staring

He completely changes the way he sleeps but he’d die before he admits it. 

If you ask him if he always slept with those two items he’ll huff at you and say “Of course I have! Not everything I do revolves around you.” 

But it does.

He honestly hates the bonnet and sleep mask though. 

His PTSD and paranoia rear their ugly head and he’s in a constant state of tension until he falls asleep. Every single muscle is pulled taunt. 

Behind his mask he is staring with an open eyed stare of fear and anxiety, eyes constantly moving. And he’s straining his ears to listen for any possible intruders. 

And as a consequence he doesn’t always make the best pillow.

Most of the time he falls to sleep by fixating on your breathing and heartbeat. 

The bonnet and mask bother his ears and it will drive him nuts till morning when he can finally take them off and just scratch at his scalp and rub his ears to make them feel better. 

Of course he’ll only do those things if you’ve left the room to change. 

The bonnet and mask leave marks on his ears and parts of his face and just pull on them. 

Is not an earlier riser when your with him 

Normally if your gone for a trip he wakes up and gets up early to work 

But when you're with him he takes every moment he can with you.

Him hating the bonnet/mask and avoiding going to sleep will sometimes lead into arguments between the two of you. 

Mainly because you assume he’s working himself to death and get angry at him when he avoids sleeping both for his health and because you sometimes feel like he’s avoiding you. And that he maybe hates sharing your bed. 

Which couldn’t be further from the truth! He just doesn’t want to admit to anything. 

Eventually through many arguments and having Maedhros or Maglor come mediate for the two you helps a lot. 

And when you discover what he’s been doing for you, you feel both flattered, frustrated and loved. 

You have him get rid of the bonnet/mask and instead of him wearing the mask you sometimes wear it. 

And before bed you’ll kiss his ears 

He will die before he admits it but he absolutely melts when you do. 

He loves you very very much. 

He doesn’t move around alot and loves having you in his arms.

The only ways he won’t cuddle you is if you are the big spoon or if you lay on top of him while he sleeps on his stomach. He’ll accept you laying on his chest but something about his back itches his brain and freaks him out a little. 

He doesn’t have nightmares often but when he does he won’t look for comfort in the beginning. 

He’ll register that it was just a dream. Get up and look around, checking windows and doors to make sure everything is locked. 

And once he is sure everything is alright he goes back to bed and looks for comfort in your arms.

Cara is a 10/10 sleepy buddy.

Masterlist

[bluegekk0]

what are the bugs’ sensory issues? could be a modern day thing if you want. i want to know :3

Hmm let me think. I'll answer with Vyrm and Grimm primarily, but I'll mention the others but briefly since I would be repeating myself.

Vyrm - if the bugs of Hallownest used specific definitions, he would definitely be considered autistic, and so it also tracks that he'd deal with a lot of sensory issues. He's generally very sensitive to touch, for example I think he would feel very uncomfortable wearing specific kinds of fabrics that aren't soft and comfy. He definitely wasn't a fan of some of the robes he had to wear during his rule. He's also super sensitive to bright lights, though that is in large part due to his eyes, they do best in darker environments and aren't adapted for bright light shining into them. Similarly, he really hates loud noises, as an example, he doesn't do well during thunderstorms, and this sensitivity paired with his anxiety means that any kind of shouting (even if not angry) is very distressing to him. In general he does get overwhelmed rather quickly compared to the others in the family. He also fidgets quite a bit, I can see him doing things like bouncing his leg, drumming with his fingers or just playing around with whatever he's holding.

Grimm - so this is actually pretty recent, and I'm not sure if it would actually count as a sensory issue, but I think it's fitting still. Since he can basically hear others' heartbeat, particularly when it increases, it also means that being in large crowds would become overwhelming rather quickly. He did find a way to cope with it, it helps whenever he's drumming with his fingers or just clenching his fist so that the sensation of his claws pressing against the inside of his hand distracts him from the noise. This is something that I don't think he could get rid of, I like to think it's a result of his connection to the Nightmare Heart. Perhaps he hearts the beat at all times in his head, so it makes sense that he would be very sensitive to hearing it in others. It does have advantages, he can sense the change in someone's emotions before they even realize, not to mention, there's nothing more intimate than literally hearing your partner's heart beating. But it can get very irritating and it can affect him negatively. A less intrusive thing is that he can smell blood really easily, and if there's a lot of it around, it can overwhelm him a bit. But situations like that happen quite rarely so it's not as big of a problem for him.

Hornet - similarly to her father, she's sensitive to bright lights. She also really hates certain types of fabric, for example, she was often forced to wear silky formal dresses back when she was a kid (big reason why she dislikes The White Lady since she was the one suggesting it), and she'd feel itchy all over.

Holly - likewise, they're really sensitive to light, which is even worsened by the void in their body. Whenever someone shines a bright light at them, they flinch and feel tremors all over their body, which is very uncomfortable.

Lewk - I think he would be very sensitive to loud noises, not so much bright lights like the others (most likely because his eyes work differently than his siblings). Like Vyrm, he would hate thunderstorms, and I like the idea of them both hiding under a blanket to wait it out together, maybe both trying to distract one another from the noise.

Asta - bright lights is a given, though I think she'd take it a lot better than the others. I think she would dislike certain types of clothing, for example I can't see her wearing tight tunics; she'd definitely be the one to wear cloaks or very loose shirts instead.

Milo - unfortunately he seems to have lost at the gene lottery and so is probably the most sensitive out of all family members. He really hates bright lights, loud noises overwhelm him quickly (another one to join the thunderstorm blanket fort haha), being touched makes him flinch, and he only relaxes if it's someone from his nearest circle who does it. Generally he gets overstimulated very quickly, which in the future is going to cause him many issues making friends acclimating to places that aren't his home. The only thing he avoided is sensitivity to fabrics, I think he'd be fine with most of them unlike some members of the family.

Zote - he hates touch, he really doesn't like being hugged for example. That's the biggest one, I think. Other than that I don't imagine him having trouble with anything.

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 41]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

Warning(s): Indigo has a rather graphic nightmare and anxiety caused by the nightmare. Eluding to character injury and harm.

"Even if it means that having to hurt both of us, I would do anything as long as you are safe. You'll be okay without me, Mings. You'll be okay." You held Mingi's face in your hands, trying your best to form a smile like you were okay. Tears streamed down his cheeks and it broke you to know that you were the cause of them.

"Please, don't go... Don't go, baby. Don't leave me. You promised me that you would always stay." He choked, his hands gripping your wrists tightly.

"You'll be okay." You smiled through the tears. As you leaned forward to give him a final kiss, Mingi faded away.

When you opened your eyes again and looked around, you gasped. The house around you was torn to shred, the glass cracking under your shoes as you stood amongst the mess.

"Mings!" You screamed as you saw him laying there. Scrambling over to him, you brushed the glass away, not caring that it was cutting you.

"No, Mingi!" When you turned him around to lay on his back, you nearly shrieked in terror.

Mingi was almost unrecognisable, his face black and blue from injuries. But what scared you the most was the head wound, his hair stained bright red by his own blood. You moved him onto your lap, gently holding his cheek as you cried.

"Song Mingi! Please wake up, Mings. Please." You begged as you cried, head falling into his chest. How could this have happened? How could you allow this to happen to him?

You were supposed to protect him.

"I warned you." Someone said from behind you. You turned around but your tears blurred your vision, you couldn't make out who this person was.

"Take it out on me. Why did you have to do this to him?! He didn't deserve this!" You cried.

"Hurting you would be an easy way out. I need you to hurt and how else to do it other than hurting the one you love. Now you have to live with the guilt of being the reason he's hurt." The person cackled.

"No!" You sat up with a gasp. Your heart was racing in your chest, you felt almost breathless as you couldn't keept up. Cold sweat covered your forehead and tears lined your cheeks.

3 AM

Letting out a curse, you carefully slid out of bed and went to go get yourself a glass of ice cold water. Hopefully the sudden temperature would shock your brain and get rid of the anxiety that was creeping in your chest. You leaned against your kitchen wall, you just needed to stop thinking for a while.

"Ba...by...?" Mingi stumbled out of the bedroom. He stood there, eyes barely open. He let out a yawn as he scratched his arms, trying to adjust to the lights of the kitchen.

"Hey, Mings. I hope I didn't wake you. Go back to sleep." You said softly, straightening up.

"Are you alright?" He rubbed his eyes to properly focus on you.

"Yeah... I'm fine. Just came out for a glass of water." You shook the glass in your hand, the ice cubes clinking against the sides. Mingi shuffled over to you, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Did you have a nightmare? You cried..." He asked worriedly, tenderly stroking your cheek where your tears were earlier.

"Mmm but it's just a nightmare. I'll be fine." You placed your cold hand over his warm one.

"You should really sleep. We have a flight to catch and then you'll be working right away. You need to sleep as much as you can." You sighed. Tomorrow, you were following Eden, the boys and their team for their overseas music video shoot.

The boys were expected to start from the moment they land. Their managers would be the ones bringing their bags to the hotel and checking them in.

"I'm fine. Besides, I won't go back to sleep and leave you out here on your own." Mingi insisted with a frown.

"Mings..." You chewed your lip, feeling conflicted.

"I'm not saying it is your fault." He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand never leaving your cheek. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your cheek pressing against his chest.

"You'll be okay, baby. I won't let anything hurt you while I am around." He promised, stroking your head.

You and Mingi just stood there, quietly embracing each other at 3am, under the only light that was on in your apartment. He periodically pressed comforting kisses to the top of your head, a small reminder that he was still here and won't leave you. Mingi's body pressed against yours melted away your anxiety.

"Don't fall asleep on me, baby." He chuckled.

"I won't." You murmured. You felt Mingi move and his hands slid under your thighs, carefully carrying you up. With your legs around his waist, you clung to him like a koala.

"Careful." Mingi laid down with your back on the mattress and him hovering over you. He held your cheek, his eyes searching yours even in the dark.

"Don't worry anymore, hmm?" He spoke softly. Tears welled up in your eyes again, you didn't deserve him. Really.

"Shh..." He wiped your tears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down.

"It's okay, baby. Whatever it is, we'll get through it togther." Hearing him whisper that in your ear made you cry even harder. You softly cried into his shoulder.

Mingi turned the two of you gently so his weight wouldn't crush you. But he never you go, continuing to hold you and hush you like you were a child. One hand rested on the back of your head while the other gently massaged the exposed skin of your hip.

"I'm here, I'll always be here." He kissed your forehead. With Mingi's coaxing, you fell back asleep.

When morning came around, Mingi woke up first. He wanted to let you sleep more so he washed up and changed, even made coffee before waking you up.

"Morning, baby." He planted a kiss to your temple. The smile you replied with was forced.

"Don't trip over the luggage." He cautioned. There was a distant look in your eyes, the nightmare from last night must have really affected you.

"Ugh." You held your head.

"Here, have these first. It'll help." He put two painkillers into your hand. This time, your grateful smile was a little more genuine. You popped the pills and went to get ready for the airport. You dressed comfortably, sweat pants, a hoodie, a beanie and a mask to hide your face from the paparazzi.

"I'll see you later. If you don't feel well, tell me." He said. Mingi had to get his luggage from the dorm upstairs while you were going to meet the manager downstairs to ride with the stylists and Eden.

"I will. Don't worry about me." You tiptoed to give him a kiss. With a squeeze on the shoulder, Mingi left the house.

"Let's do this." You said to your reflection before bringing your bags to the carpark downstairs.

"You look awful. Did you not sleep?" Hongjoong frowned.

"Good morning to you too, Joong." You replied bitterly. Seonghwa nudged the captain for being insensitive while Wooyoung came to hug you, snuggling into you.

"What's with this?" You lightly tugged at the way all his hair was tucked under the beanie. He leaned back before you could pull it off.

"Surprise~" He smirked. Soon, your van came. Eden waved to the boys while you loaded your bags with the help of San and Jongho. You waved and bowed to the boys before climbing in with the few stylists. They waved back as the van drove off.

"Look guys, Indigo had a rough night. So please, just tone it down a little." Mingi sighed. Yunho cleared his throat and everyone cast glances at Hongjoong.

"What? Don't look at me like that. I didn't know! And that's how she and I banter." Hongjoong sulked, crossing his arms.

"What happened? What did you do?" Seonghwa was more worried about you than anything.

"Calm down, mama bear. I didn't do anything. She had a nightmare and I think it really freaked her out. She's been a little out of it since I woke her up." Mingi waved his hands to calm Seonghwa down.

"Poor Indigo." San pouted.

"I just want her to go and relax, not having to think too much about work." Mingi said. The other boys nodded their heads in agreement.

"Luckily they booked the whole area and lodging for the duration of our stay there. So Indigo won't be bothered and she can destress there." Yunho smiled, squeezing his best friend's shoulder. When their vans were all ready, they loaded their bags into the vans and jumped in, ready to go to the airport.

"Are you alright? You look pale." Eden asked.

"Fine. Just feeling a little tired but I'll sleep on the plane." You assured him, rubbing your eyes and pulling your hood up.

"You're there to learn but also take the time to relax and rest, okay?" He nudged you playfully. You nodded with a hum. When the van pulled up, you saw all the fans waiting.

"Are they waiting for the boys?" You asked.

"Yes, it's always like that. Don't worry, just stick with us." One of the stylists smiled to you. You bowed your head gratefully.

"The fans don't usually bother the staff. We'll still try to keep you hidden." The other stylist giggled. You figured they must know about hiding your identity.

"Let's go." You all came out of the van. Thinking your van had the Ateez members, you heard the fans preamptively scream and shutters go off. Although, you were sure some people were excited to see Eden, recognising him as Ateez's head producer.

"Who is that?"

"Is there a new person joining Edenary?" Fans were whispering about you as you walked past them.

You obviously didn't look like a stylist, you weren't dressed like them and you walked beside Eden. Some fans tried to get a glimpse of you but you made it safely to the check in counter.

"Place all check in luggage here, please." The lady smiled.

"I'll do it." One of the crew helped you. You bowed and stood to the side while the stylist team checked in.

"Umm, excuse me." Someone said. You turned around, blinking. The girl and her friend jumped as you face them, obviously weirded out by how you were entirely covered except your eyes.

"Are you part of Edenary?" She asked. You stared at her, your eyes not giving anything away.

"Do you speak English?" Her friend prompted. You didn't reply, bowing your head respectfully and following the team through to the security checks. You were worried about how you were going to remove your mask now. But then, you heard screams, the real Ateez boys were here.

"Here." You handed your boarding pass and passport to the security guard, passing through the scanner quickly now that the fans' attention was directed away from the accompanying staff.

"You good?" One of the stylists asked.

"I'm fine. Thanks." You adjusted your mask. It was relatively calm after that. While waiting to board the plane, you all got coffee.

"My name is Indigo. Part of the producing team." You introduced yourself softly. They were all friendly, all introducing themselves with kind smiles.

"Do you always wear a mask?" Sohee, another stylist, asked.

"Ah... Yes... I keep my identity hidden from public eye." You replied, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. You didn't want them to think you were a diva or conceited.

"That's smart. We should have done that from the start. Now fans know what we look like and some of them like to ask us for favours or information." One of the film crew people shook his head with a sigh of dismay. The others nodded in agreement.

"By the way, I know what you're all thinking but Indigo isn't my apprentice." Eden added with an amused smile and his arms crossed.

"She's not?"

"No, I'm not. I mean, I work with Edenary but I was brought into KQ by Eden as a freelancer. Actually I've been producing for a while now. Just underground." You explained.

"You all definitely know her songs. Her signature is 'not your indigo child'." Eden explained. You punched his shoulder to stop exposing you.

"Oh my gosh! I love your songs. You used to work with that R&B singer, Dean, right?" Soon, everyone was fawning over you. You were flustered, not used to so much attention being on you.

"It's an honour." They suddenly wanted to shake hands with you.

"No, please. I'm still learning a lot from Eden and Edenary members. I barely know anything about what it's really like in the industry above ground. That's why I'm here, to learn from all of you on this entire process." You shook your hands to. Luckily your mask was covering your cheeks.

"I've always wanted to know what your signature means." Jihyun, the makeup artist, leaned on her hands.

"It was just something silly I came up with when I was younger. Indigo children are known to possess special traits and abilities. I wanted to show that I made it myself." You coughed.

"I'm not anyone's apprentice or student, I'm not their 'indigo child' for them to take credit for." You rubbed the back of your neck.

"Wah, that's genius."

"It's really not." You mumbled. Soon, there was some loud chatter, making you look up. The Ateez boys were huddled in a group, with their managers and bodyguards.

"There are still fans on the inside?" You asked, noticing the girls that were following the group all the way to the gate.

"Some fans try to buy tickets on the be on the same flights as the boys but don't worry, the airline blocks an area for all of us and the artists. The fans aren't allowed to enter that section of the plane." Sohee assured. You nodded your head slowly.

"We should board soon." Someone said. You all gathered your bags and queued up behind Ateez for the airport staff to do a final check before you could board.

"Stay close." Jihyun tugged you in so the fans wouldn't maul you. You briefly met eyes with Mingi. His eyes were soft, full of concern.

"Omg, Mingi oppa!" The fans waved, thinking he was looking at them.

"Have a nice flight." The person handed you your ticket and passport after checking. You bowed and walked in. The guards there directed your entire group to the blocked off cabin.

"Indigo, I got us upgraded to business class." Eden informed. Your new friends pouted at your departure.

"Come on, we need to work with Hongjoong." Eden chuckled. You nodded and waved to your friends with a promise to see them later. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you went with Eden to the business class cabin where the Ateez boys were settling in. They all waved excitedly when they saw you.

"We told Eden hyung to move you up here so you can remove your mask and rest properly." Hongjoong smiled softly.

"Thanks, Joong. I really appreciate it." You removed your mask and went to the spare seat. You were in the middle aisle, with Mingi on your left across the aisle and Seonghwa directly on your right.

"Hyung, change places with me." Mingi said.

"No chance." Seonghwa scoffed, making you giggle. Mingi sulked while you reached over to pat his hand.

"I'm still next to you, Mings." You comforted. From beside Mingi, Yunho nodded in agreement and gave you a thumbs up. Mingi glared at his best friend.

"I know they will be serving the meals after but here." Seonghwa got your attention, offering gummies.

"Candy for breakfast, Hwa?" You teased.

"You want them or not?" He gave you a deadpanned look. You nodded and took a few gummies to eat. Although you didn't mention it, this was the first time you have ever left Korea and been on a plane. Your heart pounded with nerves.

"Never flown before?" Seonghwa asked softly, his hand coming to hold yours.

"That obvious?" You winced. He chuckled, reaching out to pat your head but he didn't say anything more. After the safety video played, the plane started to move.

"You should have asked for a window seat." Seonghwa whispered. He felt you subconsciously squeeze his hand.

"Would that have helped?"

"I think it makes you feel less claustraphobic and knowing where you are in the take off might help. Or else you don't really know where you are yet. In the sky? Still ascending?" He theorised.

"That makes sense." You hummed. Seonghwa continued to offer you gummies to make you feel more at ease.

Not once did Seonghwa ridicule or question you about this being your first time flying. He didn't judge. So what if you have never been in a plane before? That's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has their own reasons. And it helped that Seonghwa knew what kind of parents you grew up with.

"There we go." The seatbelt sign turned off and you let go of Seonghwa's hand with a sigh of relief. As if it were routine, the boys stood up to get their stuff from the overhead.

"Do you still have a headache?" Mingi crouched down in front of you, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I'm alright, Mings. Don't worry." You smiled.

"If you need me, at any time..." He trailed off, opting to kiss your fingertips. Seonghwa cleared his throat at Mingi's bold action. Your cheeks heated up.

"The attendants are going to come in for the first round of drinks soon, Mingi ah." Seonghwa reminded.

"Right." Mingi shot you another adoring look, stroking your head before returning to his seat. You pulled your mask up.

"This is the menu. In the meantime, would you like something to drink?" The attendant asked.

"Orange juice would be good. Thanks." You bowed your head as you received the inflight menu. She placed the orange juice down on top of a napkin. After that, she moved on the the next person. You looked over at Seonghwa.

"Not sure what to eat?" He knew you too well. You nodded, hiding behind the menu in embarrassment. Seonghwa recommended you his favourite items on the menu.

"They have this really nice cheese bread. It's served warm which makes it nice." He recommended.

Of course you couldn't go wrong with Seonghwa's food recommendations. Everything you got was surprisingly good, you enjoyed every course and dish that was served to you. .

"I bet you thought airplane food was gonna be bad." He chuckled, reaching out to wipe a crumb away from your lip. You nodded sheepishly.

"Television doesn't portray it as being the best."

"True. I guess a lot of airplane food can be quite terrible. But we We are in business class and we know what to order so that helps." He said, taking a bite of his pasta. With your meal, you ordered a glass of red wine, hoping that the little bit of alcohol will help keep you asleep for the rest of the flight.

"I'm so full. I think I can sleep now." You yawned. The flight attendant came to clear your empty trays and you got ready to sleep. You reclined the seat and put your Airpods in to sleep.

"Is she asleep?" Mingi asked as you were facing away from him. Seonghwa nodded, putting a finger to his lips.

"Mingi." Seonghwa cautioned when Mingi stood up from his seat and stood by your side.

"I'm not going to do anything, hyung. And everyone else is asleep." Mingi gestured to the cabin. He adjusted your blanket and looked at your sleeping face.

"Sleep well." He kissed your head before returning back to his seat.

~

Series Masterlist