#it gives me anxiety to have a stranger in my apartment at the same time as me

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I woke up at a reasonable time (8:45am) went to the coffee shop, got some work done on an important project, then called the psychiatrist office AND the bank. All in less than three hours. Who am I? When did a neurotypical ghost possess me? And can it stay forever?

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (06) | 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; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

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: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,��� you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat. 

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?” 

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented. 

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth. 

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him. 

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy. 

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too. 

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing. 

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more. 

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for. 

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you. 

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule. 

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner. 

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?” 

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end. 

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well. 

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name. 

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned  black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh. 

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say. 

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?” 

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why. 

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked. 

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away. 

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head? 

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain. 

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them. 

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.” 

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all. 

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this. 

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way. 

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence. 

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself. 

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake. 

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight. 

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.” 

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue. 

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.” 

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you. 

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him. 

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him. 

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role. 

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role. 

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting. 

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. 

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help. 

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship. 

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face. 

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best. 

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well. 

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason. 

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply. 

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer. 

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks. 

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope. 

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you. 

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away. 

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people. 

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat. 

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed. 

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him. 

“Not really, but I’ll manage.” 

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained. 

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief. 

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic. 

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously. 

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains. 

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do. 

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable. 

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing. 

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile. 

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer. 

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would. 

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does. 

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities. 

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence. 

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement. 

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy. 

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives. 

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial. 

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos. 

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous. 

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form. 

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film. 

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes. 

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now. 

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing. 

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs. 

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well. 

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone. 

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished. 

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks. 

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.” 

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store. 

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests. 

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan. 

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with. 

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them. 

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through. 

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future. 

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car. 

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option. 

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier. 

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him. 

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how. 

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you. 

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face. 

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside. 

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away. 

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them. 

���I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them. 

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time. 

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue. 

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks. 

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?” 

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him. 

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum. 

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around. 

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–” 

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result. 

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now. 

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work. 

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door. 

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea. 

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you. 

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his? 

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words. 

He smiles to himself. 

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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[makkir0ll]

you finally turn in your essay you breathe a sigh of relief. but that feeling is soon gone when you check the time and see that it's 11 pm.

you look at the windows nearby and see that it's pitch black, and you check your surroundings and there are very few people left. it's finals season and the library is no stranger for students to be pulling all-nighters trying to study or turn in their projects at the last minute.

you close your laptop and pack up your stuff and go to head out when you look outside the door and you see a weird man outside, smoking something that smelt absolutely disgusting. you felt a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach because this is the only way out and any of the other exits would sound the emergency alarm. you take deep breath and decide to walk out (dumbest decision ever) and you're hit with a "hey there pretty girl, what are you doing here?" from the creep and you immediately run back into the library.

you open your contacts and go to the one labeled tobio❤️ and click on it, calling him. you knew he was probably sleeping, but you didn't really want to sleep at the library.

he picks up "hello?" his voice is groggy and laced with sleep. you start to feel bad knowing you woke him up.

"tobio?" you start. "hey i'm sorry for waking you up but there's this creep outside the library and i just-"

"i'm on my way." he cuts you off. you hear some shuffling in the background. "give me like ten minutes and i'll be there". his house is a thirty minute walk from the university library. "just wait inside okay? don't worry."

"it's okay tobio you can take your time. i'll be waiting. i love you"

"i love you too." and he hangs up. you put your phone back into your pocket and you can't help the guilty feeling that begins to swirl in the pit of your stomach. you know he has a busy schedule with balancing volleyball and school and you soon begin to regret your decision. but there was no stopping him he was probably halfway to the library by now.

you're sitting on one of the armchairs with your phone in your hand, mindlessy scrolling on social media when you feel a hand on your head, you look up and see your dark hair boyfriend. he seems out of breath and his hair a mess. he's still in pajamas, you can tell because he's wearing a stained hoodie underneath his puffer.

"lets go" he says with a small smile.

you stand up and he follows next to you as you walk out the building. when you see the man coming to approach you again you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders and pull you into his chest. you can hear his heartbeat.

"oh? back again pretty girl-"

"hey man fuck off alright." kageyama scowls at him, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as he begins to walk faster. leaving the creep behind.

once you guys are a safe distance away he begins to loosen his grip on you but never moves his arm from your shoulder.

"i'm sorry if i woke you up." you start to say.

"why?"

"i don't know, i guess it's because you have such a busy schedule. and i know how much you care about your health and that stuff-"

"but i care about you more." he says bluntly, dark blue eyes staring into yours. "i mean i would much rather be tired at tommorows practice than have you be unsafe." he says with his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. yours do the same at his words.

you continue your walk back to his apartment. he says that after waking him up you owe this to him. of course you can't deny when he offers to give you his t shirt, and when you pull the covers up to your chest and feel his hand snake around your waist and pull you close to him, nose nuzzling into your neck you hear him whisper.

"don't ever worry about bothering me if something like this happens again." he presses a kiss to your neck and you turn around to cup his face and kiss his lips softly. you see the moonlight illuminate his features as you pull back, his eyes half lidded with a smile on his face.

"okay, tobio. goodnight" you say smiling. resting your head onto his chest as he pulls you closer.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal. 

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V. 

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long. 

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours. 

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom. 

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way? 

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later. 

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.” 

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep. 

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though? 

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?” 

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been? 

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more. 

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom. 

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean. 

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern. 

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain. 

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television. 

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children. 

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

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Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[g1rld1ary]

unlucky ; luke castellan x reader

➻ synopsis: when clarisse mixes up her days, her physio appointment clashes with the exam she was supposed to drive you to. lucky for you, she's got a friend who owes her a favour

➻ word count: 2570

➻ content: swearing, anxious!reader, fluff

➻ not sure how i feel about this but it is written which is more than I can say about all my other wips so...

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were going to ace your exam. There was no other option, you’d prepared for everything. Your flash cards were colour coded and worn thin from revision, your cheap printer had basically had a fit from how many practise questions you’d printed out, and your whiteboard was crammed with revision notes. There was no way you were going to do anything less than stellar, you’d planned out every last detail of the day.

“What do you mean your exam is today?” Clarisse asked you as you stood in front of her, fully dressed and bag all packed. You hadn’t planned on this.

“Clar, it’s Wednesday. My exam is on Wednesday. I need you to drive me or I won’t get there.”

“Oh, Gods. Dude, I totally mixed up the days, I can’t drive you, I’ve got that physio appointment I told you about, the one that has a five month waitlist. I’m so sorry,” Your roommate groaned and you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. The Ubers around were hopeless, cancelling at the last minute and never actually picking you up — and it wasn’t you, your rating was perfectly high, for the record.

“Fuck,” You both cursed as you tried to figure out a solution. You wanted to be angry at Clarisse, but you knew you couldn’t. It was an honest mistake on her part, and she had to go to her appointment if she wanted to have any shot of getting back into the boat next semester and retain her rowing scholarship. Mostly you were mad at yourself that you didn’t have any backup plans, especially since you always had at least two. You were about to give up and start running across the city to try and make it in time when Clarisse’s eyes lit up, snapping her fingers excitedly.

“I’ve got it: I have a friend who I know for a fact won’t be doing anything right now and owes me a favour. I can get him to drive you?” You hesitated. On the one hand, Clarisse’s friend was probably the only way you were going to get to your exam punctually, but on the other, being in a car with some stranger would drastically heighten your anxiety and throw off all of your routines. With one more moment of thought you swallowed your nerves and nodded yes. Clarisse got on her phone, hurriedly dialling her friend. You watched in uneasy anticipation as she argued with the boy, referencing a myriad of situations you knew nothing about, clearly emphasising how much he owed her. You bit back a smile at that, Clarisse would always keep tabs on who owed her.

Finally she nodded at you and you couldn’t contain your grin. As much as the thought of navigating city traffic with a strange boy made your stomach churn — and not in the good way — your anxiety was completely outweighed by your desperation to get to your exam.

Waiting for him to arrive was a whole different story. Clarisse’s appointment was earlier than yours and so you had to wait on your own, frantically going over your notes again as you sat on the stoop of your apartment building, converse grinding into the concrete anxiously. To his credit, it wasn’t long before he pulled up, pulling into the parking space in front of you far too fast for your liking.

You observed the car skeptically. You didn’t want to judge when he was doing you such a big favour, but it was an integral part of you. The car was old and a bit worn down, but not so much in a ‘the owner’s a slob’ kind of way, more that you could tell it was well loved and had had its share of adventures. You could say the same for the boy inside it. He was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t really the type to think about his appearance too much. His shirt was clearly well loved, worn slightly thin from use, and he had a thin scar running down his cheek from his eye. You tried to smile sociably as you climbed in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” You said, introducing yourself quietly as you gripped your notes tightly.

“I’m Luke,” He replied, shooting you a quick smile.

The two of you sat awkwardly for a while, conversation at an uneasy halt. Luke had asked you a few polite questions, but your growing anxiety over the exam made it hard for you to think. At least until Luke had the bright idea of bringing up your roommate.

“So, how do you know Clarisse?” He asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips.

“She’s my best friend!” You grinned, “We were assigned to be roommates in freshman year and ended up getting along surprisingly well for, well, the type of people we are. When it was time to move out of the dorms and get an apartment together, it just seemed natural that we’d continue to live together. You must be part of her other friendship group, then?” Luke was glad you’d started to come out of your shell, the chatty version of you that Clarisse had inspired made the battle against traffic much more bearable.

“Yeah, we all met through the sports program. I was kind of a package deal with Chris, so when they got together she got the blessing of hanging out with me too,” He joked, “How come we’ve never met? I know Chris tells her to bring you all the time.” Your cheeks flushed at being caught out avoiding the group.

“I’m not really good at talking to people, I feel so awkward. Plus I need to study, I don’t have the fallback of sport that Clar does. The times that she’s hosted have been actual coincidences though! I was visiting family the last time you all came to the apartment — promise I’m not actively avoiding you all.” Luke smiled at your bashful expression, tapping along light-heartedly to whatever grunge rock he had playing.

You conversed more easily for a while, you wanted to learn more about him, and Luke was a good conversationalist. He talked about his course in a way which interested you like it never had before. You didn’t think it was possible for economics to sound so fun. Whilst it took your mind off the exam for a while, Luke returning the questions about your major made your anxiety return tenfold, foot beginning to tap incessantly.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go over some of my flashcards just before we get to campus?” Luke agreed of course, piping in with questions to make you expand on what you’d learnt. It was irritating, but only because you knew it was a brilliant way to revise.

You hadn’t expected Luke to be so helpful or so amiable. Although they’d been friends for a year or two, Clarisse rarely mentioned him. Usually the focus of her tales were Chris or Silena, Luke usually featured as the poor boy making a fool of himself through one stupid act or another. Maybe you really would start going out with them if all Clarisse’s friends were so nice.

The closer you got to your exam hall, the quicker you started speaking, words tumbling out so fast Luke could hardly understand them. You were whipping yourself up into a frenzy, and the boy next to you did not know what to do. None of his friends ever got this concerned about their academics, and he had little practice in comforting anxious girls.

When he pulled up to a parking space, you were borderline hyperventilating, shaking hands making the cue cards threaten to spill everywhere. Despite all this, you forced yourself to stop for a moment, making yourself connect your eyes with Luke’s.

“Thank you,” You said, voice surprisingly steady given the moments prior. Luke was admittedly slightly taken aback, but brushed it off much too casually. You weren’t so easily deterred.

“Seriously! You picked up a neurotic girl you don’t know with literally five minutes warning. You let me talk your ear off and basically saved my grade. You’ve got to at least let me, like, get you dinner sometime.” Luke looked like he was gonna argue with your praise but thought better of it, simply shrugging and revealing a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hopped out of the car, pulling your arms around yourself tightly as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the exam ahead. When you heard your name being called you turned back curiously, to be met with Luke sticking his head out of his passenger side window — how tall was this boy?

“Good luck!” He yelled, cheeky grin on his face. You gave an exaggerated huff, smile creeping onto your face despite your unease. You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye before rushing into the hall, running to catch up with one of the girls you knew from class. Luke smiled, laughing to himself as he pulled out of the park.

The exam was awful. Like, dogshit terrible. Hot flushes of embarrassment shot up from your toes, burning tears sitting in your lash line as you made inane complaints to some of your friends from your cohort, hoping desperately they couldn’t tell how devastated you were.

It all just felt like a waste. After all that revision, sleepless nights and study groups with people you didn’t even really like, the exam was still awful, and you were one more minor inconvenience from a full-blown meltdown. You said goodbye to your friends, and there came the inconvenience: with all the anticipation of getting to the exam, you’d forgotten to figure out how you were getting home.

God you wished you had your license. Or adequate public transport. Before you could talk yourself down from a frenzy you were crying, and sat yourself down on the steps outside the exam hall for a private moment.

The honking of a car made you look up, and the sight of Luke’s old Toyota had your tears turning to ones of relief. You sprung out of your seat, wiping your tears hurriedly as you practically skipped over to his car.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed at your dramatics.

“Couldn’t let the academic weapon walk home across the city all alone could I?” You shook your head enthusiastically, smile erupting on your face as you hopped into the passenger seat.

You sat in somewhat awkward silence as Luke began the drive. Whilst you weren’t still actively crying, it was excessively obvious that you were distraught. Luke didn’t know what to do or how to comfort you, but he was never one to stop trying.

“You know what the best thing about Chris being pre-med is?” He said, and you looked up curiously at the random topic. You shrugged, using the mirror attached to the sun visor to wipe away some of your smudged mascara. “I now know for a fact that chocolate makes serotonin, and that makes you happy. So what d’you say we go get some ice cream?”

Luke took you to an adorable little ice cream parlour a few blocks from campus and bought you both cups of chocolate ice cream, calmly ignoring your protests. Sitting in a booth together it was remarkable how quickly your mood had shifted. Luke was shockingly charming, and seemingly knew exactly what to say to get you to open up, and before long you were chatting as if you’d been friends for years.

He told you dozens of stories of his and Clarisse’s friendship group, recounting all the wild nights and stupid adventures they’d had. You loved it, you’d heard most of them from your flatmate but an alternate perspective made you cackle all over again.

“How did you know when my exam finished? It was three hours long,” You said when there was a lull in conversation. Luke looked uncharacteristically bashful, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you and focusing intently on his ice cream.

“I’ve just been hanging on campus,” He confessed, “I took a lap at five past the hour to try and catch you.” You couldn’t help your grin.

“You are such a softie!” You squealed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He shook his head aggressively but you could have sworn that the Luke Castellan was blushing.

It wasn’t long before Luke was driving you home, the two of you scream singing to Kelly Clarkson (you’d taken over the aux, but Luke didn’t seem to mind that much). You felt a little betrayed that Clarisse had been friends with him for so long and yet you’d never crossed paths. You also wondered how you’d never noticed how hot the guy in all of her Instagram posts was, but that was neither here nor there.

As you pulled up in front of your apartment building you almost felt sad, but for a completely different reason than you were an hour before. All thoughts of your shit exam were gone, replaced by thoughts of Luke and the lightness in your chest he’d caused.

You sat in the car together, clearly hesitant to go. Finally, you knew you had to leave and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” He said. You stopped. “Our group is going for dinner tomorrow night, uh, you should come. If you want.” Luke was looking anywhere but at you, and you felt your beam even if he couldn’t see it (he could, but for his sanity he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t).

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” You thanked him again for the lift and the ice cream before hopping up the steps into your apartment. Neither of you could control your giddy grins for an embarrassing amount of time.

When Clarisse got home that evening she was all apologies for her mix up, but when you of all people brushed off her disorganisation she figured something was up.

“So, how was Luke? Not too scary?” She asked as you both sat on the couch, Love Island rerun playing. You tried to answer noncommittally, eyes locked on the screen.

“He was nice,” You said, immediately forcing a laugh at whatever bullshit one of the boys in the villa had said. You could feel Clarisse eyeing you suspiciously, you would never be so vague — especially not when today was such a huge deal for you. Nevertheless she hummed in agreement, sparking a plan in her head.

“Hey, so the group are going to dinner tomorrow, you should come. It’ll be me, Chris, Silena, maybe a few others. Luke’ll be there too, I think.” She feigned innocence, counting them out on her fingers.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there,” You replied, trying to play it cool despite never having once agreed to go out with her friends. Clarisse’s raised eyebrow told you all you needed to know about your acting.

[cyberwears]

A Little Pampering Never Hurts (John Price x Reader)

(not my GIF)

FWB! Captain John Price who loves to give aftercare with a reader who hasn’t had proper aftercare before. (this is coming from someone who was dating someone who had never received aftercare after getting frisky)

Age gap (reader is 20s, price is in his 30s), aftercare, mentions of sex and friends with benefits, NOT PROOF READ, written in 2nd person as best as possible, let me know if I missed anything

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ ONLY (REMINDER THAT ANY MEDIA YOU CONSUME IS BY YOUR OWN CHOICE)

Every time you had been sexually active, you had never received any sort of aftercare and pretty much was left to clean up by yourself before being shown out the door by previous partners. After a series of shitty hookups with people that had no desire to do anything other than to cum and not help otherwise, you had fallen into a routine of: Come over, hookup (most of the time don't cum), get dressed, leave.

By sheer a stroke of luck, you ran into Price at a bar on one of the few weekends he had off between deployments and went back to his apartment. After a long night of ecstasy and orgasms from both of you and Price, Price left the room. You went to stand up and get dressed, body and brain on autopilot, Price walks back in with a semi wet rag, water bottle and a small snack before stopping dead in his tracks and giving you a confused look. You stopped and looked back to him, halting all movement before slowly going back to pull your pants back on. You had just gotten your pants buttoned before he started to speak.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Price asked as he set the stuff on his bedside table. He walked over and gently pushed you back down to the bed and pulled your pants and underwear back off. He ran his hands over your legs and grip your hips a bit tight as he kissed the previously blissful, now sore love marks that adorn your thighs and hips. This little move made you squirm, a mixture of arousal and soreness washing over you.

“I was getting dressed to leave..” you had started before being cut off with a disapproving look and grunt as he went to stand again. You had gone to move but were frozen in place after Price sent you a look, grabbing the rag again and gently wiping over you body, getting any semen, sweat, and spit that was on you before handing you a water bottle before telling you to relax and that he’d be right back. Nodding, you laid back on the bed, facing the ceiling, thoughts racing in your head. 

“So, what is this? What is the deal with it?” You asked as you went to sit up.There were feelings of confusion and nervousness, not the same kind of nervousness that comes with hooking up with a stranger but a feeling of discomfort and anxiety at being comforted. Price looked at you dumbfounded before blinking and stumbling over his words to find the correct ones. 

‘What is going on? Why is he doing this?’ were the main two floating around in your brain before you started to feel a little panicked. You had taken a couple calming breaths when you heard the door open again and Price walked back in. He leaned against the door and you looked back at him before sighing.

“There isn’t anything with ‘this’. I just want to treat my partner with respect and help make you comfortable. I ran a bath if you’d like. I know I already wiped you down for the most part, but the warm water might help relax those tense muscles since I kind of twisted you up like a pretzel. Have you never had anyone offer aftercare?”  Price asked as he leaned against the door, looking over you as you had wide eyes, looking like you were ready to bolt at any second. 

You were shocked when Price mentioned drawing you a bath, your mouth spewing the words out before your brain could filter it. 

“Aftercare? What the fuck is that?” you had inquired, seeing Price’s eyes almost bulge out of his skull in disbelief. You felt yourself shrink up into yourself a little before seeing Price quickly regain his composure and look at you.

“Lovey, aftercare is the process after an event or situation partners check-in and take care of each other to make sure everything is okay.”  Price briefly explained as you relaxed and went to stand with an unidentifiable look in your eyes as you moved to follow him into the bathroom. When he opened the door you saw a bathtub filled with warm water and bubbles on the surface. You climbed in with the help of Price, sighing as you got comfortable in the water and looked to Price who was getting ready to leave the room. 

“Uhh… thank you Price-” you had started before being cut off. 

“Call me John, I think we are a bit past formal names, y’know?” he said with a laugh and leaned against the wall.

“Oh, okay. Thank you John. This is a new thing for me, I've never been through this before.” you squeaked out, slightly embarrassed as he looked down at you. 

“Would you like to do this again? Like us hooking up? Maybe we could make it a regular thing?” you stammered out, your brain racing, riding the high of being cared for and feeling actually loved

“I was worried you would never ask. I’d love to do this again, maybe spend some time actually getting to know each other too. Only if you'd like of course.” Price said as he pushed himself off the wall and went to leave the room after confirming you would like to meet again. 

As you had relaxed in the tub Price set to cleaning up the bedroom and finished cleaning himself up before making food for both of you. After you had finished bathing and you were dressed you wandered out to dining room and were invited to the table you sat down and enjoyed a meal with John, one thought crossing your mind

‘I could get used to this.’ 

[3liza]

i was looking at the pics of other dogs that are reputed to be German Shepherd + Labrador mixes like Churchgrim (although some are clearly not just lab + shep lol) and reading descriptions of their personalities and behavior, and after having grim a while i do really recommend the german shepherd/labrador retriever mix as an easy, trainable dog with (usually) a good mellowing of the worst traits of either breed. all the descriptions of the dogs that are clearly just a shep/lab are the same as grim, with the exception that others' dogs seem to need more exercise than grim does

they tend to be very intelligent, but not border collie-level obsessive, and have a little of the GSD drive, but the anxiety that often makes GSDs insane is seriously chilled out by the dopey labrador genes. grim will woof at strange noises but is otherwise completely silent, not tending to whine and yodel like GSDs do. he will immediately stand down when he finds out what alarming noises are. he is unbothered by fireworks. he's suspicious of strangers approaching the house, which i want, but has never been aggressive and is extremely friendly when in public and when introduced to people. he is gentle with children and anyone with physical disabilities, giving them space. the shedding situation is bad, but the odor and drooling are very minimal. you dont get stinky matted bib fur or runny eyes. he likes food enough to respond well to food rewards for training, but not so much that he will chew open a cooler and eat everything inside like labs tend to do. he's big, but perfectly comfortable in an apartment with a few short play sessions a day and two walks. he's not greasy like labs tend to be, but still wont soak up water if he walks in the rain, you can just have him shake before he comes in or briefly towel him and he's dry. dirt and water and detritus falls off easily, no matting, and he never gets too cold. he has excellent weather tolerance generally, although he dislikes being hot. he likes to play and run, but only for about 10 minutes, and has never objected to long distance walking, but most of the time he just wants to hang out around the house. he learns new words and commands instantly. he clearly is bonded to me above everyone else, but isnt pushy or clingy and will obey commands from other people politely. he enjoys a hug or a petting, but doesn't invade my personal space or beg for constant attention and contact. he has no separation pathology and can be crated without stress or left alone for several hours without any issue.

he's just a very easy dog. i never had any of the issues people seem to have with puppies or training or toileting or anything. aside from his lumps (lab trait) and allergies (GSD trait) he has essentially no problems.

i mention this because this type of dog gets passed over at shelters a lot, and there are a LOT of them at shelters. because theyre large and just look like generic "dogs", which is boring, and people tend to assume their size means they cant be indoor, apartment potato dogs, and overlook them for flashier, more exotic adoptees, they get euthanized a lot. the latter reason, looks, is a really stupid way to pick someone who's going to live with you in your house for 15 years. what you want, what everyone actually wants, is a dog that can hang. you want a dog you can take places who will not embarrass you, and can go without exhausting grooming upkeep without developing health problems, a dog that wont bark at people through your fence, who can be trusted to be left in a (not hot) car or a yard or an apartment alone for short periods, who can sit on the porch and greet the mailman politely, but who will just as easily kill a home invader. you want a dog who never barks unless it's important. this kind of intelligence is really rare in dogs. theyre usually just kinda in their own world, no matter how much they love you. this type of "can parse most english sentences and respond" and "understands situational context and subtext" type of intelligence is much rarer, and i think it's a common trait of this particular breed mixture.

[0rah-s]

Guilt - chapter 2

Teenage!reader x various!genshin (platonic)

Tw: reader kinda has depression, some cursing (this should not be used as a mean to diagnose yourself!)

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language

Your mind raced?

What was happening?

Were you being robbed??

Whatever in hell was happening - someone was still in your house.

The most sensible thing to do would be to hide in an unconspicuous area of you bedroom: in the wardrobe? Under the bed? Behind the curtains? URGHHH all this thinking began to fry your brain.

Unfiltered murmurs passed through your doors due to the poor noise cancellation of your room ; there were multiple voices, meaning the level of danger and doubled if not trippled!

Curiousity had the best of you but thankfully stupidity hadn't - you had a message that was ready to be sent to the police immediately in case of danger (which told "there's an intruder/multiple intruders in my house and i am home alone, i live at *your adress* please send help). You opened your door praying for the door not to creak (and thank the heavens it did not).

You tip-toed your way nearer to the living room where the noise was coming from, and peaked at what was going on.

Your jaw droped; a group of... cosplayers??

That made no sense...

Before you had the time to compose yourself and think rationaly, you saw a very tall man picking up what seems to be a small journal.. was that..? YOUR BABY ALBUM PHOTO ?!?

You yelped in embarrassment and fear which gave your position away, half the people in your living room snapped their heads toward you.

You froze.

A tall and charismatic purple lady readied her spear, "Who goes there, explain yourself! "

And guess what ? That did not help calm down your anxiety ;D

Running was useless, you sent the message you typed before leaving your room to the police number and slowly walked up to the strangers with your hands in the air (your phone still held in your right hand).

"Ei, let's deal with this matter in a moderate manner" the tall man in a smart brown suit then looked at you "surely there must be room for negotiation. what is your reason for bringing us here and what do you require from us. I am certain we can reach a common ground" a shorter man in red and a green little girl nodded in agreement.

"As a sustainer of heavenly order i simply cannot accept! I will get my answers through whatever means." Her face couldn't possibly get sterner, if not for your exhaustion you would have been shaking in fear right this instant.

The same man that had graped you album interjected, "yeah, i think we should all chill out, that looks like a kid-" he walked walked up close and scanned you, looked at you dead in the eye, spun you around and side hugged you.

Huh ?

"But i bet they could be of help!" He exclaimed with the widest grin. The others stayed silent at the suggestion, it was worth a try.

"Say kid, d'you know where we are? Thats a pretty weird but nice place! " Was that a compliment?

Mustering up all the courage you could gather, you spoke.

"T-thank you ??"

"You're in my house right now... So inthenicestwaypossible shouldn't i be asking you who you are and what you're doing here?" You said as you avoided eye contact at all costs.

A blond person came forward in front of the purple lady (was it to make you feel safer?). "That's a fair claim, how about we answer eachother's question?" You nod in agreement.

He smiles at your willingness to cooperate,. "how about we start by introductions?"

The man still hugging you goes "OH oh ok I'll go first!!" *Ahem* "apart from the little green lady and the kid, everyone knows me here but but for the sake of my die hard fans - I'll go again. The name's arataki itto, a pleasure for the both of us" you couldn't help but chuckle and alas the oni had managed to calm your nerves.

"Is it truly safe to give our personal information to a stranger? For all we know this shy acts could be a facade to make us lower our guards" an angry green man said. A happier looking green man answer "we wont know unless we try!"

And each by turn introduce themselves, and then came you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "My name is y/n and- oH SHIT!" The suddent rise in volume alarmed all people present in the room and set them back on the guards. "Oh geez i totally forgot i called the police on you! Wait a minute!!!"

You hurriedly unlocked your phone and went to the text message and improvised something (you typed: im sorry false alarm, those were my neighbours which my parents had given a spare of the keys to. I profusely apologizes!!)

You sighed in relief at the fact that they had not yet got onto you and were probably too bussy with other cases.

Still confused they all stare at you. "Is.. everything all right?" The person that introduced themselves as kazuha asks.

"Yes, i just realised that i had almost reported you to the authorities for breaking into my house haha...."

"How could you possibly have done it so fast?" The monst- ei said.

"With my phone i guess?"

"What's a pphhhone?"

God this is gonna take a while...

Tag list: @innuwu @mikoochaan @guess-i-die @thatdeadaquarius @slaylatus @astolary @shinydrakeon15 @scarlet703 @candyqueen10 @motherscrustytoenailclippings @namine123 @kokxm1 @percea @zyphyrr @amaisverydum

Im so incredibly sorry of the wait again ( ToT) the next chapter should arrive pretty fast !!!!

Ask to be tagged!

[havecourage-darling]

What You Meant To Me // Eddie Munson

Prompt: Person A is a famous celebrity who is being stalked by someone. Their team doesn’t want to make it obvious that they hired a bodyguard, so Person B goes undercover as their lover 

I saw this on @creativepromptsforwriting​ and IMMEDIATELY thought of Eddie.

exes to strangers to bodyguard to ???? || Masterlist || AO3

warnings: light smut at the end, implied sexual content || Mayfield! Adopted Female Reader, Rockstar! Eddie, canon compliant

///

“YOU’VE got to be shitting me,” Eddie said, eyes going to Robin. “Buckley-”’

“It’s out of my hands Munson,” she said, crossing her arms, “besides, this isn’t a joke. This is the fourth time these people have tried something.”

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s just a couple of fans! This is ridiculous. The guys aren’t getting some person following them around.”

“The guys didn’t come back to their home and find a girl naked in their bed-”

“-that’s a gross simplification-”

“She had a knife, Eddie,” Robin snapped, her voice shaking. Eddie glanced up at his friend and manager. She glanced around the room to the rest of his publicity team. “Can you guys give us a moment?”

Eddie watched Robin’s hand tremble just slightly as the rest of the interns, managers, and coordinators filed out the room – Mike shot him a sympathetic look before closing the door behind him.

“I am assigning you a bodyguard for around the clock watch until the end of the tour,” she started, explaining the process and how it’ll be from now on.

Groaning, Eddie let his head loll to the side and watched as Robin continued, ignoring him like the professional she was.

He had to give it to her – she wasn’t wrong per say. He was starting to get major mental instability vibes from these two. It was always the same couple – a man and a woman who sent him unnerving amounts of fan mail about how God had sent them a message that he was meant to join them in a throuple. All he had wanted to do was play guitar for a living, now he had clinically insane people breaking into his apartment and taking fucking naps in his hotel room.

There was a small part of him, a very small part, that was a little relieved. It was extremely unsettling to have people be so obsessed with any morsel of information that they could find about you. Eddie had fought hard to have a peaceful life and he didn’t relish in feeling the need to look over his shoulder every two seconds again.

A sharp thwack to his head had him stumbling out his thoughts. “Ouch! Robin!” He hissed, rubbing his ear.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Honestly, no,” Eddie admitted. “All I heard was you’re getting an undercover bodyguard and she’ll pretend to be your girlfriend so you’re not stabbed to death in some ritual. This person is going to have to be following after me every second of the day – that’s…you know how I feel about new people in our circle.”

Robin sighed, shooting him a knowing look. “I know you all value your privacy and it’s my job to help protect that. But we still have two months left on this leg of the tour. They keep fucking finding you and we have no idea how. The security the label keeps sending is baffled at how they’re doing it – we don’t need a professional, we need an expert.”

“Robin-”

“I didn’t help carry you out of that hellhole and keep you from bleeding out on Harrington’s seats for you to get stabbed on me now,” Robin said softly, her eyes betraying her anxiety. Eddie sighed. Jesus Christ, she’d pulled out the big guns. “International dates go on sale at the end of this month – you four are just going to get more popular at this rate. The rest of this leg is officially sold out; this is what happens when you’re good, Munson – you’re famous now. Everything is changing. We need to take precautions.”

The pain in his temple took another jab at him. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along and be part of a happy couple or whatever.”

Robin grinned and he sighed. “Great. I’ve already called a company and they’re sending their best employee over tomorrow. We’ll meet her at nine, sharp. Do not be late.”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie sputtered. Wasn’t the point of this meeting to get his approval?

She shot him a look as she stood and walked to the door. “I’m sorry, did you think you were in charge here? You signed a losing deal the day you agreed to let me be your manager Munson. Suck it up, Buttercup. You got yourself a bodyguard.”

///

You hated being left in the dark.

The whole nature of your job – your profession – was to know everything at every moment. You were hypervigilant; a side effect of being a pseudo monster hunter for a good chunk of your childhood.

So, when Hopper called you up for a special assignment, you found it odd that he’d refused to give you any details. There was no file, no briefing, no notes for you to have any idea on what this assignment was about. He said they needed an experienced female agent, that it was very under wraps, and they were currently in Atlanta for the next two days - which what a coincidence, there you were. You’d been closing out the paperwork on your previous assignment – the youngest daughter of a senator – when he’d called.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, but not liking the secrecy, you had asked Hopper to assign it to someone else. You had a few years of experience on Johnson but you’d trained her yourself – she wouldn’t let anyone down.

“It has to be you, Mayfield,” Hopper said, voice tinny like it always was when he called from Hawkins. “Do it for me.”

Hopper never called in favors. Never. So, you were both interested and mildly disgruntled as you rode up a fancy glass elevator into a massive building. It was clear they – whoever they were – had money and needed discretion. But that wasn’t new to you.

By the sight of the rented office, your guess was either musician or a writer.

You had barely put a foot out the elevator when a blur of dark blonde hair slammed into you. It was only the familiar sound of someone screaming your name that kept you from body slamming her into the floor next to you.

“Robin?” You asked incredulously. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in-”

“Years? Three to be exact,” she said, squeezing you once more before stepping back and shooting you a knowing look. “Once you get running, you really don’t stop do you?”

You rolled your eyes at the jab. You had a standing weekly phone call with Robin and Harrington, the three of you adamant on not losing touch despite the fact that two of you travelled so often. Wait, the reason Robin hadn’t been around to meet up was because she’d become…

Straightening, you barely controlled the scowl on your face. “I’m going to kill Hopper.”

Completely unbothered, Robin linked her arm through yours. “If we told you – you wouldn’t have come. I don’t know why you two avoid each other like the plague but it needs to be you. We need someone we can trust. Please, just hear us out?”

“Robin,” you groaned.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.”

At that, you perked up. She was right, she didn’t know – no one knew – what had happened between you two but she had always been respectful of the boundaries you’d set. No matter how stupid. So, if she was asking, it was important.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out,” you promised, rolling your eyes when she grinned like she’d already won.

Who were you kidding? You’d do anything for Robin – for any of them. It was part of the trauma bond at this point. Without giving you a chance to change your mind, Robin led you down a hall and into a massive conference room.

You squinted at the brightness, the entire room looked like it was made from glass, the view of downtown Atlanta impressive and beautiful. As your eyes adjusted, you knew that no amount of preparation or notes would’ve prepared you for the sight of Eddie Munson.

It’d been ten years and your heart still jumped up at his presence.

His dark gaze was on yours immediately and it brought you back to the last time you’d seen him. He’d been cleared of all charges and given the green light to go home. You’d walked in on him while he was adjusting to walking again, torso littered with bandages. You’d gone to tell him you were leaving and you’d never forget the look in his eyes-

“Mayfield!”

You found yourself in the middle of a group hug, one led by Gareth – someone you’d actually seen in the past few years. Jeff was at your side while Liam and Mike were squishing themselves in the best they could.

“Hey boys,” you said, not able to keep your laugh down. “It’s been a long time.”

“I saw you two months ago,” Mike said and you watched Eddie’s eyes narrow at that.

Jeff snorted. “It’s been a good handful of years for me. Last I saw of you, you were kicking someone’s ass on Hollywood Boulevard.”

“In my defense-”

“- they started it,” Jeff and Liam chorused.

You grinned, happy to be around people who you knew so well. People that knew you – before…before it all went to shit. They all herded you over to the table, sitting you down next to Robin.

Eddie, across the table nodded. “Mayfield.”

“Munson,” you said, just as detached.

“This is going to be fun,” Gareth whispered.

Eddie shot him a withering glare and you decided to be the only adult in the room and ignored them all.

“This is our plan,” Robin said, sliding you the thick file.

With a grimace, you pulled a pair of glasses from your small purse and shot Jeff a pointed look when he giggled.

“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” Robin said, her own teasing smile growing.

“I usually wear contacts but today was supposed to be my day off,” you said, pointedly, and shrugged. “I only need them at night or when I’m tired. I – well, Harrington and I had one too many concussions it seems.”

Robin and Mike nodded, sympathetic and understanding. Eddie, however, stilled.  

“So, what do you think? I put together the plan after the most recent incident.

“Who’s seen this?” You asked.

Robin glanced at the band and Mike. “Everyone in this room.”

“That’s it?”

She nodded. “I don’t know how they keep getting to them – obviously Eddie’s is the more dire but, I’m keeping my cards close.”

Distracted by the most recent bout of disturbing fan mail, you nodded. The words ‘FAKE GIRLFRIEND, UNDERCOVER’ blared at you. Grip tightening on the file, you frowned. You couldn’t be his girlfriend – it wasn’t…surely at this point it wasn’t ethical. You both hadn’t been around each other since you packed up, wrapped your little sister in metaphorical bubble wrap, and got the hell out of Hawkins. You were about to tell Robin that you couldn’t do it, that your subordinate would be more than capable – when you saw Eddie’s statement.

Officer F. Jacobs: What happened after that?

E. Munson: Nothing happened, I ran out of there and called the fucking cops. This is so violating; she was in my house man! She touched my shit. I don’t know if anything is missing or if he did anything to my stuff – this is the third time I’ve found them. I just want to be left alone.

Your chest tightened at the crime scene photos, clearly of Eddie’s apartment with the front doorknob unscrewed from its hinge. You’d clearly taken too long to respond because Robin had launched into a pitch on how they really needed your help.

“It pays really well!” She added on, her brows jumping up when you shot her a look. “Mayfield, please-”

Eddie straightened. “She clearly doesn’t want to do it, Robin, just let her-”

Fucking shit, you cursed. You might’ve left Hawkins behind but your loyalty to this group ran deep and you knew that Hopper knew that.

“I’ll do it,” you said, interrupting the growing fight between Robin and Eddie. Silence fell, everyone’s eyes swinging around to you. “I’ll need to fly back to Headquarters – whatever. I can do it I just need a few hours to get everything in order. I need a schedule of every single stop you have from here until the end of the tour.”

“That file is your copy, the only copy, and it has all the information you’ll need,” Robin said, looking delighted.

“Uh, wait-” Eddie sputtered but you all ignored him.

“The proposal here indicates that you want our office to completely overhaul your security protocol?” You asked, blinking down at the text in your hands. “Are you sure? What about the record label?”

Robin’s eyes flashed. “They’re clearly incompetent and if we’re going to be spending money, I want to spend it on people I trust.”

“They’re willing to foot the bill? For an overhaul? And my tailing him for two months?”

Nodding, Robin crossed her arms. “Corroded Coffin has had a very sudden and very quick rise to popularity. Six songs from their second album are on the top one hundred charts. It’s only going to grow from there. We’ve officially sold out the remainder of this tour and will likely sell out the international one. Anyone we have on staff now is trustworthy because they’ve grown with us. The security the label keeps sending are idiots and I don’t trust them.”

You sighed, trying to work out who was on roster back in Los Angeles. “Well, we don’t specify in full team security, I’ll tell you that. We’re a small company and we work internationally – there’s only about five I can call from California on hand now. Everyone else is on assignment. Shit, half of us are scattered around western Europe. Actually, make that four because I need to assign someone to the jobs I now can’t take. I do…know people who can lend a helping hand though. People you can trust,” you assured her.

Hares Security was not the biggest company but in the past ten years you’d been able to cultivate a loyal list of clients. Hopper started the private security firm a few years after the…earthquake. He hadn’t wanted to return to public service and being a cop was all he knew. He’d offered you a job straight out of college and had been grooming you to take over as head of the company for when he’d go into retirement.

You knew he needed someone he could trust to keep everything afloat since he’d started bouncing between Hawkins, California, and Rhode Island – where Will was a master’s student at the Rhode Island School of Design.

Jesus, this was an entire overhaul of their system. Not that they had a good one in place to start with. From the looks of it, the security team that had been assigned to them were all inexperienced and practically useless. Some had mall experience. Who the hell hired these people?

“Okay, I’ll sound the alarm and we’ll have people incoming in the next twenty-four hours. I need to talk to Hopper though and let him know what I’ve got in mind. Is this the hotel you’re all staying at?” You asked, brows rising at the fancy hotel downtown.

Robin’s head bobbed. “They’ve got some recording to do this afternoon but we’ll be there by eight for an early night. We have an morning flight to New York City.”

“Alright,” you said, standing and tucking the file under your arm. You reached out to ruffle Mike’s hair – smiling when he grumbled. “I’m going to make some calls, fly back home and gather the arsenal. I’ll see you all in New York.”

Pointedly ignoring Eddie’s stare, you pressed a quick kiss to Robin’s head and walked out the room.

The doors to the elevator had barely closed when you pulled out your StarTAC and aggressively punched in Hopper’s number.

“Hey kiddo.”

You scowled, hoping he could hear it. “This was low. Even for you.”

“I see you’ve found out the details of your new assignment.”

“How do you know I’ve even taken it? What if I’m reassigning it to Johnson?”

“Because it’s you. You never do things half-assed.”

Fucking fuck, you hated how well Hopper knew you sometimes. “This is wildly unprofessional.”

“So is my favoritism to you but you never complain about that.”

You sputtered and growled when his tinny laugh echoed through your phone. “Asshole.”

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell happened with Munson but they need your help. Help I know only you can give. If you really want out, let me know and I’ll fly down there myself.”

Jesus, this really was bad if Hopper himself was willing to sub in.

“I can do it,” you said, mildly insulted, “I’m a professional unlike some people.”

“Right,” he said, tone amused.

Rolling your eyes, you cradled the phone between your shoulder and stalked out the lobby. “This is going to be a major lift, Hop, I’m going to need all hands-on deck and outsource some general security. People we can trust and maybe some military experience for some of the larger concerts. This is…gonna be a lot.”

“Fly out whoever you need to. Buckley and the suit at the label assured me that there’s no limit. You know where to find me if you need me.”

Rubbing the headache blooming at your temples, you shut your phone and sighed. You could do this. You could protect and be Eddie’s security detail. You were a goddamn professional.

///

“I can’t believe you got Henderson to fly out for cyber security,” Robin said, watching from the lighting control stage as Gareth let Dustin mess around on the drums.

You bit back a smile when you saw Jeff wrap him up in a headlock. Immature children, all of them. “They all owe me favors until the day I kick it,” you said, turning to her, “including you.”

“Hey!”

“Besides, NASA’s headquarters is in D.C., that’s a short train ride. Dustin’s the best at this stuff, whatever he comes up with has been Suzie approved and between the two of them any holes you have in any virtual world will be covered.”

Footsteps alerted you to someone approaching. “Mayfield?” A familiar voice called out. You turned to see Johnson approaching you, clipboard in hand.

“Everything set?”

“Yes. Julian’s team should be here shortly and we’ll help them familiarize themselves with the venue,” she said, handing over the clipboard.

Glancing down at your checklist, you were pleased to see that the small team you’d assembled had already covered a lot of ground. Yang had even sent someone ahead to the Texas venue to scout out any major possible issues.

“Good job Johnson,” you said, watching as she stood up a little straighter, “you’ve got all the angles covered. I’m placing you in charge of anything I can’t get ahold of while I’m on personal security. You’ve got my number, call me if anything comes up.”

“Sure boss,” she said, jetting off towards the loading dock.

You could practically feel Robin’s grin. “Just say it,” you sighed.

“I knew you were practically the head of the company, it’s just so different to see it in action. You’re someone’s boss,” Robin said.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to her. “You’re the manager of one of the biggest bands at the moment, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Uh no, you have like – a gun,” she whispered, “you’re like a karate master or something. I still trip over their mic wires sometimes.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a black belt in Judo, not Karate and I distinctly remember all three of us in blue sailor uniforms serving ice cream at Starcourt. Once you’ve been humbled that profoundly, there’s no coming back.”

“That’s true,” Robin snorted, bumping her shoulder with yours. “So, you ready for the next two months?”

“Nope, but I’m here anyway.”

“And that’s why I love you the most,” Robin said, ducking when you reached out to whack her.

///

No amount of warning or prepping could’ve prepared you for being alone with Eddie for the first time, in a decade.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t know if you’d accept and there were no rooms left available at the hotel. I was going to try to move us to downtown but our flight is after the show – it’s only a few hours-”

Stopping her increasingly frantic stumbling, you’d grabbed her hands and assured her that you could make do for the night. She almost folded under the gratitude and swore you’d always have the requested adjoining room from now on.

“Alright, see you two tomorrow,” Gareth said, swiping his card to the room and disappearing through it.

Eddie cleared his throat and you sighed. Okay, you could be the mature one if you needed to be. Holding out your hand, Eddie blinked at you. “What?”

“Give me the card.”

His brow quirked. “I can open the door on my own.”

“I know, smartass, I need to do a sweep of the room before you go in,” you said, “did you read the file I gave you?”

Eddie crossed his arms defensively. “I- it was a big file!”

Biting back a laugh, not wanting to encourage the bad behavior, you wiggled your hand again and he sighed. Opening the room, you shoot him a death stare when he went to step behind you. Sticking his hands up, he stood by the door as you made your way through the sitting room, the bathroom, the closet, and the bedroom.

“It’s clear,” you told him, ducking to double check under the bed. Eddie walked in, eyes zeroing in on your shoulder piece as you stood back up.

“Is that a gun?” His voice squeaked towards the end.

Nodding, you made way towards the sitting room and plopped down onto the sofa. “I don’t usually carry one but your situation is a bit different.”

“Enough to warrant a gun?”

Your eyes shot to his and you crossed your arms. “I’m head of your security and these people squirmed their way in with a knife, Eddie. What about that are you not understanding?”

Eddie grumbled something inaudible.

“Is it because I’m a girl or because I’m…me?”

His eyes raised to yours and he shook his head. “Neither,” he said adamantly, “you’ve always – even back then – you…you never liked bullies.” He made his way over to his duffel bag and grabbed a handful of clothes. Hesitating by the bathroom, he turned to you and you waved a hand.

“You can take the bathroom first,” you assured him, “I’m going to confirm everything is set for our ride to JFK.”

By the time you’d confirmed everything for tomorrow, showered, and had your nightly tea, you were exhausted. Eddie popped out from the bathroom, smelling like mint, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from dropping to his now bare arms.

The scars were clearly old, healed, but they were still visible enough for you to see from your position on the floor. Guilt roared in your chest and a lump settled in your throat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, feet coming to a stop by your head.

“I’m getting ready for bed?” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow from the makeshift bed you’d made from extra pillows and some of the couch cushions.

“That’s on the floor,” he said, glancing at the bed, “you can just take-”

“Eddie.”

“-you can’t just sleep on the floor-”

“Eddie…”

“-you have a bad shoulder, I remember. Besides you can’t always guard me from the floor-”

“Eddie!” You watched his jaw snap closed and you nodded towards the bed. “Listen, after this one time we’ll have adjoining rooms – that we’ll need to keep open – but I promise not to ruin your love life or whatever. I’ve done this for years now. I know how to make myself scarce and as unintrusive as possible so my clients don’t feel like their lives are turned around.”

You watched in fascination as his skin turned a violent shade of red. “That’s – I don’t – I wouldn’t – I’m not-” he stuttered, hands flailing around.

“Right, you’re the only celibate rockstar in the industry,” you said, goading him. Eddie’s flailing increased as he tried to explain what he meant.

A pang of nostalgia shot through you as he stammered through his explanation poorly. Money, fame, music aside – it was comforting to see that even after all these years, Eddie was still Eddie.

His stammering stopped as he saw your smile and he rolled his eyes. “You little shit.”

“How dare you,” you said, fluffing up your pillow, glad that some of the ice between you two had cracked. Like it or not, you were going to be his shadow for the next two months.

“You were fucking with me,” he said, gaping. “I – Mayfield.”

“Go to sleep, we’ll be up in five hours anyway to start the interviews then we’re on a flight to Texas,” you told him, gently nudging him away with your hand. He stumbled, as if burned, and hesitatingly sat on the bed.

“Are you sure-”

“Ed’,” you said, the old nickname rolling off your tongue, “go to sleep. I’ve slept in worst places than a four-star hotel’s floor.”

His brows rose, shock flittering across his expression before settling. “Yeah?”

You nodded, turning onto your side so the door was in your sight. “Last year I was on a team for a minor royal, she had no qualms about who was present during her sexual escapades.”

Eddie laughed and your stomach fluttered. Shutting your eyes tightly, you beat the sudden rise of emotion back into submission.

You were going to kill Hopper when this was over.

///

Late night talk shows were the worst, you decided. Anxiety ricocheting as the studio’s security argued with your team behind you.

Forgetting that you were playing a part, you’d almost stepped in when the security guard shouted at Johnson. Forcing yourself to smile and walk in with the band, you reminded yourself to take a few more undercover assignments in the future – your skills were getting rusty.

“You don’t at all look like you want to murder someone,” Mike said, stepping up next to you from the wings of the stage.

“Is it that obvious?”

Mike snorted. “I don’t think you’ve taken your eyes off of him from the moment we got in.”

“They’re being stubborn. Doesn’t all talent have their own security team?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder and watching Johnson hold her own. “What’s the issue with us? Besides, I’ve counted like three massive holes in their system.”

“Calm down Terminator,” he said, bumping your shoulder. Eddie’s laughter drew your attention back to him as the audio assistant set him up with a mic and explained how the cues were going to go.

The boys were on the second stage to the left, assuring themselves that their equipment had all arrived unscathed and were tuned to perfection.

“Hey, Boss!” You turned towards your newly acquired nickname – thanks to Jeff who had refused to listen to you until you’d let him know you were the boss. You were never living it down – and saw Eddie waving you over.

“This is uh, my girlfriend,” Eddie said, introducing you to Conan O’Brien.

You stepped forward, smile settled in your features, and shook his hand. Coming to Eddie’s side, you mumbled, “you’re a natural,” as Conan settled into his chair.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“You call your girlfriend Boss?” Conan joked. “That’s either really smart or sarcastic enough to earn me a slap.”

Smiling and stepping forward, you cross your arms playfully. “He knows who’s in charge,” you winked. Eating it up, Conan guffawed.

Eddie grumbled awkwardly behind you and you smacked his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Besides, he brings me everywhere – we can’t live without each other, right pumpkin?”

“Right,” he said dryly.

Conan began talking about his own girlfriend, sitting in the green room backstage, when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Your instinct won and you turned to find a woman with blonde hair running straight to you. Without much thought, your training kicked in and before anyone could step in, you had her on her stomach with a knee to her back.

“Eddie! Eddie! I love you!” She screamed, hysterically crying despite the pressure you applied to her spine. Jesus, she had a set of lungs on her. You were impressed.

A portly man shuffled forward, his eyes wide as saucers, “Uh, Miss, I can take it from here.”

“Oh,” you remembered, eyes darting up to Eddie’s. His brown eyes were dilated, mouth gaping a little, and he was frozen. Stumbling at his reaction, you tried to dust yourself off and shot a bewildered Conan a grin. “Sorry about that!”

“That’s some form you’ve got there!” Conan exclaimed, hands going up. “Man, the Giants could sure use some defense like you.” His eyes darted down your figure and you fought the urge to roll your eyes when a warm hand came across your shoulders.

“Yeah, she’s something alright,” Eddie said, pulling you into his side. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Message clearly received, you shot up a surprised look and let yourself be ushered off stage by a PA. Robin had arrived, standing there with an impressed glint in her eyes.

“Shut up,” you muttered at her.

She held her hands up, her suit moving with her, “I didn’t say anything!”

“Are you okay?” You spun around and almost stumbled into Eddie, his hands coming out to steady you.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry – it was instinct. I didn’t mean – I shouldn’t have hit her so hard,” you said, feeling weirdly off kilter.

Eddie scratched the back of his head, a sign you knew was a habit for when he was feeling uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I just, was worried you – uh, for you,” he said, stilted.

“For fuck’s sake,” Robin said, blowing air out of her lips, “you two are so awkward it’s actually painful. You’re not strangers, you were friends at some point, just pop the goddamn elephant you two have in the room and get over it. Nothing about this, screams romance.”

With a dramatic hair flip and a roll of his eyes, Eddie ignored her, shot you another look, and walked off when you’d nodded.

Robin sighed. “Jesus, it’s like we’re in high school all over again. I can’t deal with the tension a second time around Mayfield, I can’t.” She continued to grumble but you kept your eyes on Eddie as he climbed up the sound stage and settled his guitar over his shoulder.

Robin’s words echoed in your mind - you were friends at some point.

Your history with Eddie Munson was a little more complicated than most knew. Eddie had been your friend but he’d been more than your friend. He was your almost.

The first few chords rung through the stage and everyone in the audience went wild. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek. “Hello New York City! I’m guessing by the sound of that you know what song we’re going to play. Don’t be shy now, sing along!”

Now and then I think of when we were together

Like when you said you felt so happy you could die

Like the best kind of torture, you watched Eddie’s fingers wrap around the mic, his eyes sliding closed.

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness

Like resignation to the end, always the end

You’d heard the song, because of course you had you didn’t live under a rock. Hearing it live, however, cut a little deeper than your stereo at home. At least at home you could have a drink in hand.

But you didn't have to cut me off

Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing

And I don't even need your love

But you treat me like a stranger, and that feels so rough

Robin’s eyes slid to you and they felt like two honing signals. You didn’t want to watch anything dawn on her – you hadn’t made it this far to fall apart now. Not over a song.

“I’m going to go wait in the green room, okay?” Robin nodded, her eyes following you as you left.

Now you're just somebody that I used to know

///

The flight to Texas had been long and after the day you’d had – you were dead on your feet. But, because the universe didn’t know how ever give you a break, you found yourself doing a sweep of Eddie’s hotel room before herding him inside.

Gareth’s room had needed sudden repairs and while he’d offered up to bunk with Jeff – you’d given him your adjoining room. It was only for a night, his room would be available tomorrow morning, and you knew that being close to the client was never a bad thing.

You’d shower in the morning, unable to think of more than just brushing your teeth and falling face first into your pillow. Especially considering that you had an early wake up call to go take a look at the new venue.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, watching you settle into the sofa in the makeshift sitting room. This one was actually big enough that you could use as a bed for the night – it was a step up from the floor.

Not this again. “Munson, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie scowled and you felt your pulse jump. “It’s a California king mattress Mayfield, just get up here.”

“No,” you said, stubbornly.

Sighing, Eddie flopped onto the bed and you thought that would be the end of it until – “We’ve slept in the same bed before. One much smaller than this. In a trailer park. For months. Get your ass up here.”

“Eddie-”

“I saw you twinge. I know your back probably hurts from that defensive tackle.”

Eye twitching at the memories of you curled around Eddie in his small bedroom, you sat up. “What do you know about sports?”

“It’s been ten years,” he said, deadpan.

“Tigers don’t change their stripes.”

“For fuck’s sake – just get up here,” he groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow.

The twinge in your shoulder screamed for the softness of the bed but your mind was telling you this was a bad idea. It didn’t matter that you’d shared beds before – this was still a client.

“I know how to keep my hands to myself,” he said, tone defensive.

“Oh my God,” you scowled, despite knowing that he was playing you. You got up and padded over to the other side of the – admittedly – huge bed. “Fine!”

Grinning Eddie revealed a small heating pad. “I asked the front desk to have one sent up. It helps me with my shoulder too. After a while they get sore from performing so often,” he said, handing it over a little sheepishly.

Completely bowled over and shocked, you reached for it and arranged it onto your sore shoulder. The heat immediately soothed the surface ache and you smiled at him. “Thank you,” you said.

Awkward, and a little embarrassed with your earnest tone, the two of you broke eye contact.

“I’ll shut off the lights,” Eddie mumbled, hauling himself out and returning once the room had gone dark.

Two minutes in you knew there was no way either of you were going to get any sleep with the tension as thick as it was.

Put your big girl pants on, you shouted at yourself. But your tongue felt stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Robin’s right,” Eddie said, breaking the silence first.

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, we should…talk about it?”

There was a beat of silence before Eddie exhaled. “I wrote that song a long, long time ago. I was in a different head space and of course, it became one of our hits from the debut album.”

Shutting your eyes, you realized you had finally gotten the answer to a question you didn’t know you’d even wanted an answer for.

“It’s okay,” you said, because it was.

Eddie continued, a hand shooting up in the air, illuminated by the soft moonlight. “I just needed a way to cope with your absence and-”

You reached out, touching his hand softly. “You’re a great songwriter, Eddie. I would never hold that against you.”

“Oh,” he breathed, a small sigh coming out after. “Thanks.”

It seemed that even after all these years, you still knew Eddie well enough. “Just ask me,” you said softly into the silence.

“Why?” He asked eventually.

“Why what?”

“Why was I the only one who you avoided? When you left…you said you needed to get out and I tried really hard not to feel like I was being abandoned but, after a few years everyone seemed to reconnect with you. Except for me.”

Turning onto your side to face him, you watched him turn his head towards you – eyes incredibly sad.

“I didn’t, at least not purposefully,” you admitted. “When we left, I hid away. I left my mom and Max and buried myself in school. I became a shell of a person, I-I’m not proud of things I did but I was in survival mode. I started studying to become a psychologist and that was my life for four years. As horrible as it sounds, I didn’t really reach out to everyone else. They found me - they forced me back into being a human. They searched me out and once I was back among the living it felt like it’d been too long to just pick up where we had left off. How did I start to apologize for just leaving like that?”

Eddie smiled sadly at you. “I understand, in a way. We weren’t exactly easy to find either, you in California and me traveling around with the guys. I…I asked Steve once,” he admitted, “I knew you’d given me an abbreviated story about what had happened before ’86. After he told me, I wasn’t as mad, I was just…sad. You really undersold the story in that little shack.”

“I’m not belittling what we’ve been through, what you’ve been through, but Vecna was my fourth round,” you said, breathing unsteady, “so many people died. Barb…she hurt the most. I could tell Billy’s death had cut Max deeper than she was letting on.”

Eddie’s hand came up to yours and you realized you were shaking.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. I stayed in that town after everything, after Billy, and I know it’s not an excuse but it feels like Hawkins is cursed. I saw you on the floor, in Dustin’s lap, and my world just crumbled.”

His eyes softened. “Sweetheart…”

“We took you to the hospital and I sat there for days going back and forth between your room and Max’s. I just – I couldn’t let that town take anyone else from me. I wouldn’t survive it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I let so much time go by before I woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t push my way back into your life like I should’ve.”

Shaking his head, Eddie’s hand squeezed yours. “I’m sorry for not trying harder. For not seeing how deeply you hurt and only focusing on my own.”

Despite your restraint, you felt tears burn your eyes. “We made a mess of it.”

“Yeah, but even messes can be beautiful in their own way.”

Because of course he’d say the right thing. The ice around you two cracked and more pieces fell to the waiting ocean below. Eyes slipping closed, you had a brief burst of relief in your chest.

Which was promptly stomped upon when your alarm jerked you awake a few hours later. Lifting your arm, you patted around the night table until you hit something warm.

“Ouch,” Eddie grunted, “turn it off.”

Lifting your head, confused, last night came back to you in a rush. Glancing down, you realized that the pressure around your waist was Eddie’s arm. You were tucked into his chest, your legs tangled, and head tucked under his chin. The same way you used to when you’d climb in through his window in the trailer park. Like no time had passed. Then you were suddenly aware of another insistent pressure on your waist.

“Turn it off,” Eddie grumbled again, voice muffled by your hair.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “I need you to let me go.”

Eddie’s grip tightened before it immediately disappeared and you both flung yourselves to opposite ends of the bed.

“I’m sorry – uh, oh shit,” he tumbled off the bed, popping up awkwardly. “I’m just going – I’m – I need a shower. Right. Okay.”

You watched him scurry into the ensuite and dropped your head back down to the bed, groaning. You knew you should’ve slept on the fucking floor.

So much for less awkward.

///

Robin cornered you both during rehearsals.

“What is this?” She said, smacking a magazine down. There, on a spread in the pages, were you and Eddie looking like you barely knew each other.

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

“It’s been a week since they’ve known about me,” you huffed, looking through the poor pictures of you. “How could they know? Oh look, it says we’ve been dating for two years. Apparently, sources say you met me at a coffee shop. How quaint.”

Eddie grunted, eyes darting across the pages.

“Yeah, and who the hell is going to believe that with you two looking like you’d rather be dead?” Robin exclaimed.

“That feels like an exaggerated statement, and that’s coming from me,” Eddie said, frowning.

Robin’s hands came out to snatch the magazine from under your noses. You flinched and Eddie’s hand came up to steady you. “We need to stage some shots. You’ll need to go on a date. Something under the radar, cute, ‘they’re just like us’ type of thing.”

“I am technically just like them,” you pointed out to deaf ears. Eddie’s hand squeezed your shoulder and his small smile made your chest tighten.

“Don’t you think that’s a little gross? Staging shots?” Eddie asked.

“That’s how we get ahead of this. We control the narrative. There’s something else too – this was mailed to the office,” Robin said, clearing her throat. She placed a large manila envelope down and you sorted through it.

“Oh!” You said, straightening, “it’s hate-mail!”

Eddie’s brows flew up. “And you’re happy about that?”

“It means we’re doing something right,” you hummed, looking at the crude images and chunks of hair taped to the letter. “Robin might be right. We should do this and see if we aggravate them further.”

“Are you insane?”

You frowned. “It’s how people get caught. They get sloppy and besides you’ll be safe – I’m here all the time,” you assured him. “We haven’t had any incidents so far these past two weeks.”

“That’s true!” Robin said, perking up. “I’ve seen her decapitate an interdimensional superpowered human. Two regular humans should be easy for her.”

The memory of your machete going straight through Vecna’s neck flashed through your mind and you frowned.

“I’m not afraid for me – oh my God, you two are insufferable,” Eddie muttered, walking off towards the audio guy who was waving him down.

“Jeez, what’s up his butt?” You grumbled, looking through the mail and pointedly ignoring Robin’s knowing smile.

///

He hated to admit that Robin was right. Eddie would never actually say it out loud – she’d never let him forget it. But…the photos looked good. Eddie flipped the page and the image of you with your head thrown back making him smile.

“I feel like we should be laughing, isn’t everyone in those tabloids always laughing?”

Eddie snorted. “Did you need me to tell you a joke?”

“I can fake laugh, look,” you chortled, laugh sounding horrendously fake even to his ears. Eddie couldn’t help but actually laugh at your attempt.

“That was bad,” he said between laughter.

You grinned; Jesus did your smile make his heart sing. “Made you laugh though.”

The both of you had agreed to go for ice cream in downtown Dallas. You’d tossed your arms around him, practically touching him at every opportunity, and Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to try and lie about how it made him feel.

In fact, everything about your arrival had him feeling like he’d been turned upside down. It’d been painfully awkward at first, it still was sometimes, but you were both slowly learning how to be around each other again. And Eddie wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing in the long run. Or if he was just setting himself up to be hurt again.

The last photo, one where you were reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth, made him smile. His eyes were on you and even he could see that you both looked like a couple very much in love.

“They look good,” Gareth said, leaning against the doorframe. Eddie slammed the magazine shut and straightened. “Well now, that wasn’t suspicious at all.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, rubbing a hand down his face. “It was set up; you know it was.”

“Riiight.”

“Gareth.”

He laughed. “Dude, it’s me. I’ve known you since I was a freshman in high school. You can’t lie to me. I was there when you met her. She was in my class originally remember? She’s my friend too.”

You had been – that’s how he’d met you. Gareth had failed history junior year and his teacher had assigned him you at the beginning of senior year for tutoring. As cliché as it sounded, you had taken one look at him and he was gone. You were so nice to him, to all of his friends, and repeatedly defended anyone in Hellfire against bullies.

Dustin had mentioned you before – Mike usually rode home with you – but he just hadn’t really noticed you. He couldn’t fathom how because it’d taken one offer for you to come out to the Hide Out and your friendship had all but solidified.

There was rarely a day Eddie wasn’t attached to your hip. Sometimes, it’d felt like he was your shadow, following you around like a lost puppy.

He knew he loved you on Halloween. It was a wonder that it took him so long. You’d told him that you loved him on Valentine’s Day. He still had the card you’d handed to him, flustered and shy. His heart felt like it was going to beat out his chest that day.

There were things he didn’t understand - before everything exploded during spring break – like the times you’d sneak into his trailer, tears in your eyes and panic shaking your body. He’d assumed that you just had nightmares after the fire at Starcourt since you had been in there when it burned. You hadn’t like to talk about but, he quickly found out why.  

Eddie had tried his best to be comforting, to be a safe space, and for a moment – a brief moment, he’d thought that you were his future.

Then Vecna had stolen that from him too.

In hindsight, he should’ve known better. He’d cut the rope in the trailer that night because he knew you needed time to kill him. He’d done it for you. Because he couldn’t run away when he didn’t know if you were safe or not. Even if that had been what caused you to run after, he didn’t regret it. Not even in the winter when the scars and his joints hurt the most.

But…he missed you. He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how easy it was with you – how much he wanted to breathe you in and follow you around like that lost nineteen-year-old. There were things he knew about you, whether or not they were still true, that he didn’t know what to do with.

Eddie knew that you liked to have tea before bed. He knew that you liked your coffee with an ungodly amount of sugar. That you thought waffles were superior to pancakes. Your order at the diner was etched into his memory, alongside the way you were ticklish on the soft part of your thighs. The fact that you were a good daughter but an even better sister.

He knew the noises you made when he sucked on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck. He knew that you liked to take charge, never one to be bowled over. He knew just how to twist his fingers, where to touch, to get you to scream. He knew that you liked to pull his hair, that it drove you crazy when he tied it up in a bun.

But he also knew that the sounds of your sobs echoed, the ones that haunted his dreams, while he tried to claw his way through the darkness back to you. He knew what you looked like, begging him to forgive you for not being able to stay while he was still attached to monitors at the hospital. He knew that you’d loved him, once upon a time, and that it’d hurt more than he thought possible to have it taken away.

“I’m scared,” Eddie said, thoughts jumbling together, “what if I get used to her being back?”

Gareth nodded. “That could happen.”

“I don’t – I-” Eddie sighed.

“Listen, she ran after those earthquakes and you let her go. This was something that fell apart that you both let fall. You’re adults now – you’re both grown-ups, ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought, “you gotta decide on what you want. Once you figure that out, you’ll know what to do. But…don’t jerk her around. She wasn’t doing good for a while and this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. She’s settled now and she deserves to be at peace Eddie, so do you frankly.”

Before Eddie could even think of a response, let alone soak that in, Robin popped her head in the door.

“Hey! You have the magazine! What do you think?”

Eddie stood up and shrugged. “Looks good to me.”

“Right? I’m a genius! We should do a few more once we land in Chicago, to keep up pretenses,” she said, tapping her chin. “We’ve gotten a ton of fan mail for her. A few job opportunities too, apparently people like her style.”

Of course, they did. Because everyone loved you. How could they not?

“Munson? Gareth? We’re ready for you two. We need to do a final sound check.”

Gareth shot him a look and Eddie sighed again. “Let’s do it.”

As the four of them walk towards the stage, Eddie spotted a few of your team members securing the hallways. Smiling at the woman who never went anywhere without her earpiece or clipboard, Eddie wondered how you two had met.

As if summoned, Eddie caught sight of you as you spoke to one of the outsourced security teams. Julian? He faintly remembered you mentioning a second, much larger, security firm lending a hand. You were pointing at the doors to your left and the man nodded, attention solely on you. Eddie could relate. His eyes wandered down, your jeans tightly curving around your hips-

“Eddie!”

Eddie blinked, turning towards Jeff who was staring at him worriedly. “What?” He said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“He asked if you were ready,” Gareth said from his spot behind the drums, fingers twirling a drumstick while his eyes were light with laughter.

Eddie glared at him before nodding at Jeff. “Sorry man, I’m ready. Want to start off from the last song?”

.

Pacing the length of the green room, Eddie tried his best to calm his nerves.

“You alright man?” Jeff asked, eyeing him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before a concert.”

“Uh,” Eddie said smartly, not sure how to word that he wasn’t really nervous about performing – more like he was nervous about the fact that this was the first night since you’d joined that he’d be performing that song. It was stupid, he was sure you’d heard it before and he’d gotten away with excluding it for the last few concerts but, it was popular enough that it couldn’t be ignored forever.

Gareth snorted at his indecision. “She’s never heard him sing Got Away,” Gareth said. Eddie whipped his head around and Gareth rolled his eyes. “Dude, they were there while you two pretended not to be obsessed with each other. They’re here now while you two awkwardly try to pretend like you’re not staring at the other. We’re metalheads, not blind.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Anyone can see you both have it bad for each other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie said.

“Sure,” Liam said, chuckling from his place on the couch, “and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”

Eddie stood up, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. “For my own sanity, just for this performance, can we please drop it?”

Jeff, ever the mediator, nodded but Eddie watched Gareth quirk a brow and shake his head. “The more you ignore it, the worst it’s going to be later.”

“I’m sure she’s heard it anyway,” Liam said, “at this point she’s gotta know you wrote most of that album about her anyway. Most of downtown Hawkins knows.”

“Jesus, remember the songs that fall?” Gareth snorted. “He made that girl in the audience cry.”

Eddie hated how well his bandmates knew him sometimes.

The PA from earlier knocked on the door. “We’re ready for you guys!”

Jumping at the chance, Eddie hurried out the door. He shook his arms out, hooking his guitar around his chest and nodded. It was just another concert.

The sound of fans chanting made him smile. Grabbing the mic handed to him by the audio guy, he caught sight of you on the other end of the stage. You waved, giving him a thumbs up and Eddie hated the fact that it did something to his chest. He shot you a smile before bringing the mic up to his lips.

“Hello Dallas!”

The roar of the crowd drowned out all his thoughts. The curtains dropped, the audience screamed louder, and Eddie reveled in the energy.

“We’re going to start you off with a crowd favorite, is that alright?”

Glancing back at Gareth, he nodded once before raising his drumsticks into the air.

At the first chords, the crowd went wild. Focusing on the audience, Eddie managed to keep his eyes forward, and voice steady for most of the song.

We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world

In another life, I would make you stay

So I don't have to say you were the one that got away

The one that got away

As the bridge approached, Eddie couldn’t help but give into his urge, eyes swinging around to you. He wasn’t prepared for the way you were already looking at him, eyes wide and awed. Your hands were intertwined, pressed up against your chin. At the sight of his glance, you smiled a small little sad thing that had his own heart stuttering.

All this money can't buy me a time machine, no

Can't replace you with a million rings, no

I should've told you what you meant to me, whoa

'Cause now I pay the price

Dragging his eyes back to the crowd, ignoring the pang in his chest, he let the last chorus fade and picked right back up with the next song.

///

You were mildly embarrassed at how quickly, and in such a short amount of time, you got used to being in Eddie’s presence again. You might even go so far as to say that in the rare moment you found yourself without him, you felt a little off.

It was mortifying really. You were a professional and all it took was one assignment to ruin your spotless record. Just barely four weeks into this detail and you were incredibly used to him being the first person you saw in the mornings and the last before bed.

In your incredibly weak defense, there was something intimate about being part of someone’s daily routine. It’s something you taught everyone who joined the firm. There’s bound to be a connection to the people you’re protecting. No matter how short the time, it’s only human to grow attached. It’s a major factor into why your clientele was so loyal. Most of your jobs were reoccurring or past clients. You’d created a bond with all of yours, and you’d hoped – desperately – that it wouldn’t happen here. Honestly, you should’ve known better.

“Is this necessary? We were just here,” Eddie said, yawning from the door.

You got down on your knees and lifted the bed skirt. Flashing your light, you confirmed that the room was clear. When you didn’t immediately hear Eddie’s footsteps, you turned to glance at him from over your shoulder. He shuffled in, eyes on the ground, cheeks pink.

“Fucking hell, is it only eight? Why am I so tired?” Eddie groaned, flopping onto his bed. You perched yourself at the furthest edge, massaging your bad knee and rolling your eyes.

“Because you’re nearly thirty and traveling across the country is exhausting?”

Eddie lifted his head and glared at you. “Don’t you ever mention my descent into death again.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly dramatic?”

“Once, a girl I knew from high school,” he joked when you shot him a look. “She was wrong, obviously. I’m a completely rational person. If anything, I underreact.”

“Wow,” you said, deadpan.

“What?”

“I’ve never met someone so delusional – oomph,” you grunted as a small pillow hit your shoulder.

Eddie groaned as he sat up. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled, reaching out to check the messages on the hotel phone.

“Me too,” you chimed, already thinking of places you could order from. Eddie seemed fond of the burgers from yesterday. They’d also been cleared by Michaels and Yang as a safe spot to order from for the duration of your stay.

“Robin says we’re all cleared for the night,” Eddie stood suddenly, letting the phone drop back down to the receiver. “I say we go out for dinner.”

“What?” You balked. “We have an early call time; I think our flight is at eight to Chicago.”

Eddie rounded the bed, placing his hands on his knees and bending down to your height. “Come on Mayfield, live a little.”

“It’s not safe – I’d need another person with me. Maybe Johnson is still awake? Maybe a man would look better? What if you’re recognized-” Eddie lifted a hand, his eyes going wide and pleading.

“Come on, boss, live a little. We’ll go somewhere nearby. I’ll wear a disguise! Look,” he said, pointing to the hotel’s massive windows. “The beach is right there! We haven’t, and won’t, get a chance to see it if we don’t go now.”

“We never get the chance to see anything in any city,” you said, brows raising. “It’s just a beach.”

“Mayfield.”

Feeling yourself give a little, you sighed. “What kind of disguise?”

Eddie grinned, one that you knew meant he knew that he was winning you over. “We’re in Miami, trust me – it’s easier to hide in a bigger city.” He hesitated for a moment before gathering his curls into a ponytail, wrapping it around the base, a high bun sat at the top of his head.

Something incredibly close to butterflies, but felt more like velociraptors, roared away in your stomach. Shit, you’d forgotten how good he looked with his hair up. Eddie glanced at you quickly before stuffing his hair under a baseball cap. Pushing a pair of sunglasses onto his face, he opened his arms and did a twirl.

“It’s night out, only weirdos wear sunglasses at night,” you said, laughing when he snorted.

“It’s Miami.”

You laughed. “Alright, fine, you win. I’m bringing back-up though,” you said, going to the safe and grabbing your handgun.

“Do you really need to bring that?” Eddie frowned.

“Eddie, I’m here for your protection,” you stressed, not liking it either. “There are literal deranged fanatics trying to kill you.”

He sighed but relented as you placed it in its holder and pulled a hoodie over it. “What if they just want an autograph? They could be completely rational people.”

“Someone sent me a package last week that we had to scan for explosives, Edward,” you said, opening the door.

Shrugging, he relented. “You know, sometimes you’re right.”

“Sometimes? More like all the times. Hey, no detours, okay?”

Eddie crossed his heart and held up four fingers. “Scout’s honor!”

“You were never a scout and they use their right hand to salute. It’s also three fingers not four,” you said, watching Eddie smirk as the elevator took you both down to the lobby.

Skin itching at the busy streets, you kept alert and vigilant. Eddie’s elbow bumped into yours and you frowned. “Come on, loosen up a little, we’re fine,” Eddie said, tugging his hat on lower.

“For now,” you muttered, sticking your hands into your pockets.

“You’re just a ray of sunshine,” Eddie said, leading you towards the pizzeria at the corner. “Has anyone told you that?”

Raising a brow, you watched him hold the door open for a couple and ushered you in. “You know what I do for a living, right?”

“One cheese pie to go please,” Eddie said, placing a few bills on the counter.

“To go?” You said. “Thought you wanted to live a little?”

Eddie smiled at your imitation of him. “We are, we’re gonna eat on the boardwalk.”

“Eddie,” you groaned. At least a restaurant had less variables you needed to watch over.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, thanking the cashier as he handed over the pizza box, “we’re going.”

The beach was visible from the pizzeria. You could smell the saltwater – hear the ocean crashing into the shore. “Eddie-”

“Oh, come on,” he said, grabbing your hand and tugging you forward. Your skin tingled and at the sight of a few people eyeing Eddie curiously, you intertwined your fingers together. He blinked down at your hands, shooting you a surprised look. Darting your eyes to the attention you were getting; Eddie nodded and pulled your joined hands closer as he pulled you under his arm.

This close to him, your sides bumping as you walked, you got hit face first with his scent. It hadn’t changed much since you’d last been this close to him. Woodsy, a bit minty, and something uniquely Eddie.

Smoke, you realized, he didn’t smell like cigarettes anymore. Now that you realized, you hadn’t seen him smoke at all.

“Did you quit smoking?” You asked.

Eddie smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said, “yeah, a long time ago now. When we still lived in Hawkins.”

“Really,” you said, raising your brows. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said, sitting down cross-legged on the wooden bench facing the water. Despite the crowded streets, it seemed that the beach was mostly empty. A couple to the far left were walking away from you, two little specks in the distance. “Since you asked a question, do I get to ask one back?”

You picked up your slice and nodded. “Twenty questions?” You asked around a mouthful.

Eddie nodded, swallowing his own bite. “Do you still talk to everyone from home?”

“I didn’t have many friends outside the party,” you said, surprised that that was his first question. “Not after Will disappeared. I – I don’t regularly keep up with most of our friends either. Robin, Steve and I have a weekly phone call where I mostly listen to them bicker-” Eddie laughed and nodded.

“That sounds like them.”

You shrugged. “Aside from El, Max, and Lucas – I don’t speak to anyone else that often. Hopper, obviously, but Will is off doing his own things. Being adults,” you said, shooting him a look, “Will’s stuff is beautiful. I managed to catch his last gallery and he sent me my favorite piece in the mail. It hangs in my living room and I love it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, looking out to the ocean. “He’s really good.”

“Dustin is busy being a literal genius and Mike, well, is-”

“-usually around me?” He finished for you.

Smiling sheepishly, you nodded. “Gareth is the only one I called semi-regularly. He sends me postcards from wherever you guys are, you know?”

“I didn’t, the little shit,” he said, frowning. “I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one.”

“The only one what?”

“The only one left out,” he said with a self-deprecating smile that just about broke your heart. Before you the shards could surface, Eddie stood and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. “Want to take a walk?”

Lump in your throat growing, you nodded.

“It’s your turn,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. With a quick glance around, you slipped your flats off and let your toes dig into the sand. Feeling a little more calibrated, you let your gaze fall to the push and pull of the ocean.

“When did you know things were changing for the better with the band?” You asked, betraying the tiny piece of you that craved answers and the small details of the time you’d missed.

Eddie smiled. “The first time someone recognized me on the street. We’d been doing a lot of opening acts for moderately known bands on tour. We generated enough interest that we started working on a debut album. I was writing a ton and our label decided to give us a very tentative shot. We were out for some food and this guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin.” Eddie mimed his head exploding and you grin.

“I would’ve paid to have seen your face,” you said, bumping your elbow with his, “you guys deserve it.”

“Thanks,” he said, ducking his head like he wasn’t an international rockstar at this point. “How did you get into security? Last I remember, you wanted to be a teacher but you studied psychology?”

You shrugged, memories bubbling to the surface. “I think Hopper just found me at the right time. I was so…angry all the time. I’d shifted from sad to just pissed off – even Max steered clear of me for a while. I needed an outlet, so my roommate pushed me to tag along to her self-defense class. It was Krav Maga and I learned how to take someone down that day. It felt exhilarating.”

Eddie snickered. “Only you’d get excited about violence sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” you said, flustered, “the point is, I’d started picking up a few things and the instructor asked if I’d ever considered Judo. I said no, I didn’t really have the time, but I went to a class once a week for a year. I think, I was just fed up with feeling helpless. I’d watched so many of our friends fight for their lives, I wanted to feel like…well, like I had some sort of control I guess.”

“That makes sense, given the circumstances,” Eddie said, looking pensive. “Wanting control in a situation where you felt like you had none.”

“Exactly!” You said, smacking his shoulder excitedly. Eddie shot you a grin and you stumbled. “Well, Hopper found me right as I was graduating. He’d just started his company and needed help. I went from a class a week to four a week and a boatload of training. I helped scout some people and it went off from there.”

Eddie smiled at you, the moonlight casting a shimmer to his skin. “Who would’ve thought, Mayfield, a professional ass-kicker,” you shoved him and he laughed, the sound shooting down your spine. “It suits you though, you look happy.”

“I am,” you said, shrugging, “at least with my career. I’ve been in some tight situations but the people I’ve saved or protected, they’re all great people. It’s thrilling really.”

“I can imagine.”

A question bounced around your mind, reminiscent of an old conversation with Steve, and you pushed yourself to ask. “Who was your first after…after I left?”

Eddie stumbled and you instinctively reached out to steady him. “Jeez, Mayfield, you really choose the hard hitters.”

Mortified, you straightened. “Sorry, you don’t have to-”

“No, no, it’s fine. We…we were friends for longer than we were anything else. Even after everything, after all the years, you can always ask me anything. Time and complicated feelings don’t change the fact that we were friends. We are friends.”

“Yeah?” You asked, both embarrassed at the earnest tone in your voice and pleased.

And for the first time since you’d seen each other, without any cameras present, Eddie pulled you into his arms. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and exhaled. “Yeah. We might be the weirdest, most complicated friends to exist, but what we went through was too strong to be destroyed by something as finnicky as time.”

Embarrassed by the sudden pressure behind your eyes, you squeezed Eddie tightly. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” You wondered if the words would ever be enough.

“I’m sorry too.” After a minute, you both stepped back and continued walking forward. “And to answer your question – her name was Emily. She was, predictably, your complete opposite. It took a while but she was good for me.”

“What happened?” You asked.

Eddie shrugged, a flicker of regret flashing through his expression. “A whole mix of things. Our schedule was starting to pick up and in the early days we had to go where the shows were. You know how that goes, so much time away – she couldn’t always come with, and I don’t know. We just fell apart. Can I tell you a secret though?”

“Always.”

“I was going to propose the week we broke up,” Eddie laughed and you stared at him incredulously. “No, really. It’s crazy how a week can change your entire life. Well, I learned that years ago but, it’s old news by now.”

“That sucks,” you sighed, surprised by the complete lack of jealousy you felt. It really did suck; you’d gone through enough break ups to know they always hurt.

“What about you?”

You bit back a smile. “What about me?”

Eddie groaned and waved a hand in the air. “Come on, don’t make me drag it out of you.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, glancing back out to the water, “I…didn’t really have one serious relationship. Robin says she thinks I run from commitment but it’s deeper than that. I have a whole chunk of myself that’s permanently changed because of what I’ve been through. How do you cultivate something without sharing that?”

“You should, you know, share it,” Eddie said.

“I know but, no one felt right,” you sighed. “Steve’s favorite is this financial guy I dated for three months. He actually proposed to me.”

Eddie sputtered; expression shocked. “After three months? Did he even know you?”

“Hey!”

“Mayfield, we met the first week of our senior year and it took us almost the entire year to confess that we liked each other,” Eddie said, laughing when you balked.

“Yeah, and I was the one who confessed first! You don’t get any credit for that!”

Hands out, placating, he agreed. “You’re right, you’re right – sorry, continue.”

Stopping at a nearby boulder, Eddie plopped down and you followed suit. “It’s your turn,” you said softly, not wanting to break the easy mood you both had created.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t ever ask you this,” Eddie said, mouth twisting, “but it’s been eating at me. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

The familiar inky grip of guilt tightened in your chest and you struggled to breathe through it. “Because Wayne was in Hawkins. He had a really good job there and everyone else stayed behind. The kids still finished out school, Robin went to college nearby, you needed that. Look, it took me years of therapy to realize this but, you needed to heal through your support system. They were there, in Hawkins. I needed to heal by finally creating distance. If you would’ve asked me to stay, I would’ve,” the admission was torn from your mouth before you could stop it.

Eddie’s surprise eclipsed his face. At his silence, you swallowed around the lump in your throat.

“I would’ve ended up resenting you for it. My sister almost died. She still has a limp, you know? She tries to hide it but I know her bones ache and there are scars that time won’t ever heal. We all have ghosts but I couldn’t keep living in the same house as mine. I knew you deserved more than a broken girl who would’ve turned into a broken woman.”

“I think I knew that on some level, it was just always easier to be the wounded one,” Eddie admitted.

“I don’t blame you for however you needed to cope,” you said, reaching out for his hand, “we do what we need to, to survive. Eventually though, life needs to be more than just surviving and you’re doing that.”

Eddie’s fingers trailed across your palm, tickling your skin and you sighed. “You do have the makings of a good shrink you know.”

“I know,” you said, laughing when he shot you a look. “Tell me a secret.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Will you tell me a secret?”

He huffed a soft laugh and nodded. “I kept the card you gave me that Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his words almost drowned out by the waves, “it’s in my apartment in New York but, it’s in a box next to my diploma and other important stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.” Pulling one of his hands from yours, he pulled one of his necklaces out from under his collar and your eyes zeroed in on the red guitar pick.

“I can’t believe you still have that,” you said, fingers reaching out to touch the warm plastic. Eddie’s inhale was sharp and you immediately brought your hand back.

“I wear it on the days I feel like I need an extra bit of courage,” he admitted.

You smiled, a little confused. “What?”

“Don’t you know?” Eddie asked, tilting his head back, eyes knowing. “You’re the bravest person I know, Mayfield.” The wind blew his bangs around his temples, the hair whipping from beneath the cap. “I wear it when I feel like I need to borrow some of that bravery.”

The intimacy of the admission made you shiver. Your skin brimming to the edge with the words, Eddie’s eyes betraying his accidental vulnerability.

Not one to be outdone, you tried to even the playing field. “I kept one of your Hellfire t-shirts. I wear it when I need comfort. It’s soft as shit and reminds me of happier times. My neighbor even knows I wear it when I feel like crap. It just…helps after one of those days where just about everything goes wrong, you know?”

“Yeah, boss, I know,” he said, gazes catching. Something you couldn’t decipher shifted in his eyes and you felt those damn velociraptors flutter awake. “We’re a mess,” he said, repeating your words from that second night.

“We’re definitely something,” you said, smiling when he snorted. You both watched the water for a few minutes, the line between ocean and sky blurred.

“We…we could’ve had something right? It wasn’t just me? I think about it sometimes, get lost in my own head about whether I’ve imagined our connection. If the depth of us was just one-sided or if we ever really had anything at all.”

Your chest hurt at the sound of his voice wavering, but you kept your eyes on the missing horizon as you answered. “Yeah. We could’ve. We’re an almost and those hurt more than tangible things sometimes. Because you know that if it had the right environment, it would’ve bloomed into the best flower out of the bunch. And you…you, Eddie Munson, are the best, most painful kind of almost.”

“That’s a new one,” Eddie said, eyes burning into you. “I went to see you once. At the California office.”

“What?” You said, shocked.

“You weren’t there. You were on some assignment in New York, ironically. Hopper said it was for some pianist?”

Ah, George Shearing.

“I saw Max though – she’d just started college and swore she could teach me to surf in weekend,” he laughed, stuck in the memory, “I told her not to tell you. I took it as a sign – we could only try so many times, you know?”

You hadn’t known that he’d tried to see you – that if you’d only just delayed that trip for a week you would have.

“Are those songs about me? I don’t want to be that girl who assumes but, I’d always wondered,” you admitted, not able to bring yourself to look at him.

In your peripheral, you watched Eddie smile with a relieved sort of expression. “All my good songs are about you, Mayfield. How could they not be? You’re seared into my memory, into who I am now.” He stood after that, dusting his pants off, and offered his hand. “If we’re an almost, then you’re my favorite almost.”

Taking the offered hand, you let him haul you back to your feet. “You’re my favorite almost, too.”

Eddie grinned, the unhindered, wild grin that you remembered. “It seems we’ve made a habit of having all our serious conversations by a beach,” he said.

Where the hell was he? You frowned, checking the time. Digging your toes further into the sand, you sighed and watched the lake ripple as a duck landed onto the surface. A flash of bright lights had you scrambling to your feet.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Eddie said, tripping out his van. “I – had a shift at the shop run late, someone brought their shitty mustang in and then I was trying to find any store that was open, but of course none were, I mean - whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

Confused at the speed of his words, you watched him walk over to you. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sorry. I got your, uh, gift,” Eddie said, words stumbling over each other. You heart leapt into your throat and your eyes immediately dropped to your feet.

“And?”

A soft finger at your chin tilted your face back up to his. His eyes were molten in the moonlight, wide and curious. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Eddie smiled half-heartedly, recognizing your teasing. “Are you going to make me say it?”

Nodding, you bit the inside of your cheek and tried to drudge up every bit of your courage.

“Do you…do you really love me?” Eddie’s voice cracked and your stomach fluttered dangerously at it.

“Yeah, I think I have for a while now,” you admitted. “I know we haven’t been friends for as long as you and the guys have – honestly, I don’t know how we never noticed each other before senior year. I-I don’t know when it changed, only that it did.”

Eddie’s thumb traced your bottom lip and his gaze deepened. Squaring your shoulders, you inhaled. “I love you, Eddie.”

His answering smile crashed into you like waves onto the shore. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Elated, you brought your hands up to his wrists. “Really?” You breathed.

His eyes darted between yours, eyelashes kissing his cheeks. “Yes,” he whispered right before pressing your lips to his.

Shaking your head, clearing the memory from the front of your mind, you dusted sand off your clothes. “Come on, we both need to wash off this sand and we still have that early call time,” you said, nudging him forward.

“This sand?” He asked.

You turned to look at him at the same moment he kicked some up at your legs. You gaped. “Did you just-” you sputtered as he kicked up more sand towards you. Without waiting for your response, he cackled and darted up towards the boardwalk.

“Come back here you shithead!” You screamed, laughing as you chased him back up the beach.

///

“You, Robin, and Dustin could really rule the world, you know,” Eddie said from the sofa in his hotel room, where he was gazing at you lazily.

Rain pelted the thick glass to your left, the curtains pulled open so that you could both watch in fascination as the sudden tropical storm wreaked havoc against the river in downtown Chicago.

Smiling, you glanced around at his dark hotel room – the glow sticks and lanterns from your emergency kit casting a warm low light against the walls. You’d all barely returned from another rehearsal and security walkthrough when the lights had suddenly cut out. It’d taken you ten seconds to slam the adjoining door open and run towards Eddie, who had been face planted into his bed and half asleep.

Immediately calling Robin, you both figured out that the power was out to whole hotel. Julian’s team had reached out to assure you that the floors had been cleared, your and Dustin’s protocol followed down to the smallest instruction, and confirmed that it was a city-wide issue. The ETA for the power being back on was two hours. The hotel generator was only managing to keep common areas on, and the elevators, and anyone was welcome downstairs for some light and free food.

“Don’t you forget it,” you said, pointing to him, the phone still cradled between your shoulder and your ear.

The receptionist tinny voice echoed in your ear. “Ms. Mayfield? Yes, apologies for the wait. Your food delivery is in the lobby. Would you like us to receive it and bill the room?”

“No, thank you,” you answered, “I’ll be right down. Tell him I’ll just be a minute!”

“Of course.”

Grabbing your wallet, you pointed at the door. “Lock it behind me and do not open-”

“-the door for anyone that isn’t you, I know,” he said, propping his chin onto his hand. “I’m going to hop in for a quick shower anyway. Just take my key.”

Ignoring him, a thought suddenly came to mind. “I should probably call and check on the venue, see if there’s any damage,” you mused to yourself, reaching out for paper to write that down.

“Or,” Eddie called out, “you let the storm blow over, relax for a minute, and check on them in the morning.”

Grumbling at his laughter, you made your way downstairs.

The deliveryman gaped at you, soaked to the bone, as you handed him a generous tip. “Are you sure?” He sputtered, looking barely out of high school.

“Be safe, okay?” You said, turning to share a smile with the receptionist sitting close by. She placed the pack of cards on the table, next to monopoly, and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No problem Ms. Mayfield. If you need anything else, please let us know.”

You waited a fair bit for the only working elevator, the attendant apologizing every few minutes. Waving away his apology, you offered him a spring roll from the massive takeout bag. Surprised, he shook his head, but smiled at your offer. Taking a bite out of your own, you smiled at a few kids running out and towards the sitting room behind you.

“Ow, hot, hot,” you grimaced as you accidentally shifted the bag in your arms too far. Dropping the rest of your spring roll into the bag, you wiped your hands on your pants and pulled out the key card.

Throwing the door open with your foot, you took another bite of your spring roll before placing the bag down on the low coffee table. “Food’s here!” You shouted, eyes catching on the video you’d both wanted to watch after dinner. Shit. “We’re going to have to return the movie and hope they’ve got a Family Video or something by the hotel. I really wanted to watch this one-” choking around your mouthful, you blinked as Eddie emerged from the bathroom.

The white towel hung low around his hips and you became intoxicated with the rivulets of water that sped down his chest from his hair. Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, it wasn’t the surprising clear definition of his muscles, or the hair – Jesus Christ on a stick the hair – that caught your attention. It was the scars that were littered across his chest.

The pale, jagged, lines most notable on his ribs and across his hip. And as if against your will, your eyes started to well up. You’d seen Eddie shirtless a few times before…before and seeing him after just reminded you of how close he’d been to death. You’d held the skin together on the one around his ribs, your jacket pressed against his wounds.

“Eddie, open your eyes – keep your eyes on me! Eddie! Sweetheart, please, please, don’t leave me too, you can’t! Nance, the blood – the blood-”

“Mayfield?” Eddie’s confused eyes swam into your blurred vision, crossing the room to stand by you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, you reached out a hand and trailed a finger across a small scar by his collarbone. Shivering, Eddie froze in place. “Oh,” he said, glancing down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was half-naked. “Yeah, you haven’t – you didn’t see them before. Aren’t they something?”

“You’re beautiful Eddie, with and without them,” you said adamantly, surprised by your own tone. It didn’t matter in the end, because you couldn’t live in a world where Eddie didn’t know that he deserved the world.

His warm, ringless, hand hesitated before cradling your cheek. “Why are you crying?” He asked, this thumb catching the tear that had managed to escape.

“I don’t know,” you said, tentatively placing your palm on his side. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a moment before settling back on you. “I was so mad at you. When I saw you lying in Dustin’s lap, I was so mad and so scared…”

“I’m okay,” he said, ducking to catch your gaze. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m like a cockroach. Some ol’ demon isn’t going to get me.”

You half-smiled at him and his ridiculous brow wiggle.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kept this one together,” Eddie said, voicing your thoughts, pointing at where your hand rested. “I never said thanks for that, you know.”

Shaking your head, you found yourself ducking down. The only explanation you had was the fact that a ghost must have possessed you because, before you knew it, you had pressed your lips to the large scar.

As you straightened, Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, his shoulders trembling. You darted your eyes up to his, about to apologize for your temporary insanity, when your mouth dried.

His eyes were heated, a look that shot directly to your chest and traveled down to your belly. Toes curling in your sneakers, you swallowed thickly. Your tongue darted out in a desperate attempt to wet your lips but as his eyes followed the motion, your mind went fuzzy.

Both of you swayed forward and you realized he was close enough that you could see the faint lines around his eyes. You gazed at him, categorizing the subtle differences ten years made and nearly smiled when you saw the two familiar small freckles at his neck.  

“These were always my favorite,” you whispered, a confession meant to be kept to yourself. Suddenly, a memory of you worrying them between your teeth flashed through your mind and you brought your eyes back up to his. You watched, fascinated, as his Adam’s apple bobbed once.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice an absolute wreck, as his hand fell to his side, “you’re killing me.”

Cupping his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek, you jumped when his hand came up to your wrist. He kept your hand there, his eyes darkening, and you felt your breathing turn shallow. Jesus, you wanted to rake your hands through the hair in his chest so badly you were practically salivating.

The silence of the room was suffocating, you wanted to crawl out your skin. His eyes branded you as they darted across your face, as if memorizing you, and you bit the inside of your lip.

Both of you swayed again, inching closer.

Then, suddenly enough to startle you, the lights in the room flickered on. The electricity in the building seemed to hum in unison for a moment, before settling.

What the fuck were you doing?

You blinked, realizing just how close you’d gotten, and you jumped back. Wrapping your arms around yourself like armor, you kept your eyes on the floor and shook your head. “I-I’m so sorry. I, uh, the food’s on the table. I’m not – I’m going to go back to my room.” Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and started for the adjoining door.

Quick footsteps and a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stopped you. Closing your eyes for a moment, you begged yourself to stay professional before turning to Eddie.

“The food,” he said, after a beat of silence, “you didn’t eat.”

Shit. “Right, uh, I’ll just grab my-”

“And the power is back on, so we can watch that movie you wanted,” he said, hand dropping from yours. You watched him rub his neck and you realized he was actually nervous. Eddie Munson was awkwardly nervous.

Stunned, you blinked at him.

“We both have a late start tomorrow, for the first time this entire tour,” he said taking a few steps back towards the bathroom. “Besides, you owe me.”

Indignation flashed through you. “What?” You sputtered, awkwardness falling away. “How the hell do I owe you? I’m the one who kept that crazy fan off you this morning.” You crossed your arms.

Eddie beamed, shaking off his own uncertainty, and shrugged. “You just do. Get the movie on, Mayfield. I’ll be…right back,” he said, grabbing a change of clothes and you absolutely did not watch his shoulder blades shift in fascination as he walked away.

Grabbing the food out the bag, you settled on the couch, crossing your legs. What the fuck was that? You asked yourself, barely resisting the urge to rub a hand down your face. For fuck’s sake, you kissed his chest. Had you actually lost your mind?

It didn’t look like he’d minded, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Shut up, you told it.

But the damage was done, your mind was reeling, and you realized it hadn’t looked like he minded. In fact, it looked like he’d been leaning down-

“You better not have eaten all the spring rolls,” Eddie said, grabbing the remote and flipping the lights off. He flopped down onto the cushion next to yours and you quirked your brow. “What? No one watches movies with the lights on, Mayfield.”

Shooting him a look he ignored, you smiled when he placed another spring roll into your container. The opening credits started and you laughed as Eddie ran commentary, as always.

After quickly eating most the food, you both sunk into the cushions comfortably. Halfway through the film, you felt his hand come up to yours. He nudged you and you blinked up at him, confused. He nudged you again and you let him intertwine your fingers. Eddie’s answering smile warmed you.

Without overthinking, you let your head come down to Eddie’s shoulder.

The character on screen pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head as she ran out the door. You weren’t sure when you’d forgotten how easy it was to just…exist with Eddie. The way he radiated sunshine and how its rays warmed you from the inside out. You didn’t know how you’d existed without it for so long. It was easy to forget when you didn’t have it within your grasp, but now that you did – you didn’t think wanted to let it go.

///

“Hey!” Robin said as you opened the door to your hotel. She was dressed in an incredibly tailored suit and you let out a low whistle. She waved a hand, giving you a knowing grin. “I look good, right?”

“So humble too,” you teased, letting her in. “You’re early.”

She shrugged, draping herself across your unmade bed. “I got ready quicker than I needed to. Thought I’d come down and bother my favorite person in the hotel.”

“I’m telling Eddie you said that,” you joked.

Robin’s brows wiggled. “Talking about Eddie…”

You groaned, clasping the necklace you’d bought in Chicago around your neck. “Robin, please.”

“I can’t help but notice that you two have been getting along recently.”

“We’re friends.”

“Right, and friends always check out the other’s rack when they think no one is looking?” Robin asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

Hands stumbling, you dropped one of your converse onto the floor. “Jesus Christ Buckley, why don’t you just scream it?”

“Scream what?” A second voice asked. You jumped, shrieking when you saw Gareth leaning against the doorframe of the connecting door.

“Gareth!” You said, chucking a brush at him. “What have we said?”

He sighed. “It’s not smart to scare you because you could karate chop my head off my shoulders,” he said, pouting like a ten-year-old.

“Don’t worry Gareth, we were just talking about how close her and Eddie seemed to have gotten this past week,” Robin said, glint in her eyes. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you’d eventually miss Robin if you killed her.

“I have a bet going with the rest of the guys,” Gareth whispered loudly, “Jeff’s winning.”

“Excuse me?” You sputtered.

Gareth shrugged. “I thought the two of you were braver than you are.”

“I-I-” Words failed, really they did. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Considering earlier today at breakfast you came in from working out and Gareth had to practically reattach Eddie’s jaw back to his face after seeing you in a sports bra.”

“Plenty of people wear sports bras to work out!” You said defensively.

Snorting, Robin nodded. “I know, you’re just the only one he’s got eyes for.”

You felt yourself grow flustered, not able to really handle anymore. You’d known that things had shifted after that night. You’d spent the last four days going over it in your mind. You were both playing with fire and you wanted to be sure that – if anything shifted – you wanted this. You’d already left a town of people behind; you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer, to any type of resolution to all of this. But it seemed to help that Eddie sounded just as confused.

What didn’t help was that you could practically feel his eyes on you, like a physical touch, and you couldn’t exactly keep your own eyes to yourself. Something had changed, or changed back, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Gareth and Mike had already separately brought it up and you were mortified. Robin, as always, took great pleasure in fucking with you.

Saving you, the hotel phone rang and you dove for it. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Ms. Mayfield,” the receptionist greeted. “I’m calling to inform you that your party has started to arrive.”

“Thank you, we’ll be right down,” you said, hanging up the phone. “Everyone’s starting to arrive.”

You’d landed in Indianapolis early morning and had spent all day prepping as usual. Robin, like the mastermind she was, had managed to reserve a private room in the popular restaurant downstairs. She’d all but blackmailed the party into flying out for the concert tomorrow.  

“Eddie,” you called out, “everyone’s downstairs!”

“Coming!” He answered, his head popping through the doorframe a minute later. His eyes found yours first, as always. “You look great.”

Opening your mouth – Robin beat you to it. “Thanks Munson,” she said, swinging an arm around his shoulders. You watched as a blush crawled up from his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your bag and opened the door. “Come on, Dustin and Lucas will eat through the entire restaurant if we don’t hurry up.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” Gareth said.

Without much maneuvering, you had him a headlock the entire ride down. Robin and Eddie laughed as you walked out into the lobby with him still in your grasp.

“I’m going to pass out,” he complained, his hands reaching out to tickle your sides.

Jumping away, you growled. “That’s cheating!”

Dramatically gasping for air, he ran a hand through his hair and glared.

“Watch yourself, that’s my sister you’re scowling at,” a voice called out behind you both. Whipping your head around, you found the familiar red hair and freckled face. Not wasting a second, you ran towards her.

Slamming into each other, you wrapped your arms tightly around her small frame. The smell of her shampoo surrounded you and you felt yourself ease. “Hey Mad Max,” you whispered, leaning back to get a good look at her.

It’d only been four months since you’d seen her last, but you always felt like a piece of you slotted into place when you did.

“Hey boss,” she teased, laughing when you peppered her cheek with kisses. She squealed, the sound making you grin and you ruffled her hair. “Where’s- oomph.”

A blur of blue slammed into your side and you kept a hand on Max’s shoulder for balance. El’s wide smile beamed up at you and you grinned. “Ellie,” you said, laughing when your silly nickname caused her smile to widen. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas,” you said, wrapping your arms around her small waist and lifting her up off the ground. She laughed, the sound filling you with warmth. If anyone deserved complete unrestrained happiness, it was Eleven.

“I missed you,” she said, squeezing you once before letting you go.

“I missed you too.”

Another voice joined. “Why don’t I ever get greeted like that? It’s always move Sinclair, you’re blocking my sister,” Lucas mimicked.

Rolling your eyes, you smacked the back of his head before bringing him in for hug. “How’re the Lakers?”

“Good, got an earful from my coach about keeping to my diet,” he said, scrunching his nose.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite employee,” Hopper’s voice boomed in the lobby.

You whipped your head around and narrowed your eyes. “If it isn’t my severely unprofessional boss,” you said, cracking and letting him bring you into a hug.

He leaned away, eyes darting across your face. “You seem different.”

“Yeah, I’m probably going prematurely grey from the stress these idiots give me,” you said.

Hopper shook his head. “You look happy, like you’ve lost some of those weights off your legs.”

“Don’t start,” you said, holding a hand up. “You’ll all be the death of me before the night is over.”

Robin clapped her hands twice, Steve Harrington already at her side – as per usual. He shot you a wide grin when you caught his eye. “This is all wonderful and everything but we got reservations I had to trade a kidney for. So, move it or lose it nerds!”

You all sat down, doors separating you from the rest of the restaurant firmly closed, and you thanked Julian’s guys stationed at the front.

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, you watched everyone you cared about bicker, catch up, and hug each other. Nancy sat to your left; her arm linked through yours as she told Will about her most recent news story.

The food had only just arrived when you realized there was a steak on a plate on Eddie’s right. “Hey, who’s that-”

“Sorry I’m late everyone, the traffic on the highway was a bitch.”

Spine straightening, you stood and watched Wayne walk through the doors. His eyes found yours and you almost broke in two at the way they softened for you. Turning to glance at Eddie, you watched him shoot you a small knowing smile.

For most of your last year in Hawkins, Wayne Munson had been the only responsible parental figure you, Eddie, or Max had. You’d lost the number of times he’d cook you two breakfast or given you a ride to work when Eddie wasn’t home. Affection hadn’t come easy to him but he’d never turned you away when you reached for a hug. His scruff would tickle as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before leaving for work most nights.

Wayne Munson was the man who’d displayed the Christmas card you’d given him when the one you’d tried to send to your dad was sent back with a bright red RETURN TO SENDER. The mug you’d gotten him was displayed right in the middle of that old trailer.

“Well, look at you, all grown up,” Wayne said, hands going to his hips. “You lost my number or something? Just because my kid probably done and messed things up didn’t mean you couldn’t have called me once or twice among the years. I’ve saved your postcards though, every single one.”

Tears building in your eyes, you flung yourself into his arms and it took everything in you not to immediately break out into tears. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t mean to stay away for so long.”

“That’s alright,” he said, thumping you twice on the back. “You’re here now and from what I hear, you been running a tight ship.”

Feeling merciful, the guys nodded, complaining instantly about your overboard security measures. Walking back down to your seat, you swiped a finger below your eyes and smiled when Wayne pressed a kiss to Max’s temple. “Hey Red.”

“Hi Wayne,” she said, beaming up at him. “Haven’t seen you since the summer. The new television holding up okay?”

“Course, you’re the one who helped me fix it,” he said, ruffling her hair. Wayne made his way down the table towards Eddie, settling down next to him.

Eddie’s eyes found yours again, concern swimming in them. You smiled, letting him know you were okay, just a little overwhelmed.

Halfway through dinner, you felt Hopper’s arm settle on the top of your chair behind you. “You can thank me with some scotch for the assignment,” he said, the glint in his eyes teasing.

“Right, and what am I thanking you for?”

Hopper rolled his eyes. “That, Mayfield, is the look of a man in love,” he said and you couldn’t help but glance towards Eddie, who was – in fact – looking at you. He smiled and you whipped your gaze back to Hopper. “You can’t be that blind,” he huffed. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll catch up eventually.”

“We did,” Joyce said, her soft voice coming from Hopper’s right. She smiled at you, her hand reaching for yours. “Don’t let him bully you.”

“Although,” Nancy said, joining the quiet conversation. “I really would’ve sworn that you two would’ve ended up together.”

“They would’ve, they still probably will,” Lucas, across from you said, voice a touch too loud for your liking. “You all see the way they stare at each other, right? It’s been two hours and I’m sick of it.”

“This is a job,” you insisted, “I’m suppose to make sure he’s – they’re all okay.”

“Not now,” Nancy insisted, “back then. When we were all still in high school.”

Your heart stopped and you felt your arms go numb. The two of you hadn’t told anyone – it’d only barely just happened when shit hit the fan. Then you turned and ran out of town before the leaves could settle.

“Shit, yeah,” Robin huffed, “do you remember the looks? God the yearning we had to put up with.”

Mike snorted. “It was, and still is, annoying. The campaigns always ended early when she sat in on them, like Eddie couldn’t wait to get rid of us.” Your pulse echoed in your ears and you darted a nervous look to the opposite end of the table. Eddie was in a deep conversation with the band, Dustin laughing at something Jeff had said.

“Remember Valentine’s Day? They got worse after that,” Lucas said. “Eddie practically ditched us every week.”

“And the nicknames?” Nancy added. “I thought it was sweet.”

Not able to handle more, you stood abruptly and you cleared your throat. “I’m going to go…to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said, scurrying off before you could meet anyone’s eyes.

The hurried footsteps behind you let you know that you weren’t alone. Hands reaching for the sink, you tightened your grip on the edges. Looking up into the mirror, you saw Robin, Nancy, and Max’s worried faces.

“Was it too far? I’m sorry,” Nancy said immediately, her hands coming out to yours.

Robin, however, tilted her head. “No, that’s not it. What’s wrong?” Goddamn her.

Max answered for you. “They did date,” she said, coming up to your other side.

Your eyes shot up to her knowing ones and you balked. “What?” Robin sputtered, looking completely shocked. “I spent almost everyday with you. When the fuck did you two date?”

“How did you know?” You asked Max.

She shrugged, her hair falling to her back. “We lived across from his trailer, I could literally see you sneak out his window when Wayne would get home in the morning sometimes. Besides, it’s like they all said, anyone with eyes could see you two were gone for each other,” she said. “I know something changed in February. You two were different. I always felt guilty, after we moved, I felt like I…like I’d robbed you something.”

You’d moved to her side before you could even think. “You didn’t. Even if we had gotten together earlier, I wouldn’t have stayed in Hawkins. I couldn’t. I still can’t.”

Max smiled weakly, but you saw her nod before burrowing into your arms. “I’m sorry, we need to rewind a second,” Robin said, her voice a little too loud.

“I locked the door,” Nancy reassured you.

“What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God! I made you guys go on so many fucking dates just to fuck with you guys. Jesus Christ. I thought this was stupid yearning, a maybe we-kissed-once-while-drunk-or-high thing. Not that you guys actually dated!” Robin said, rubbing a hand down her face. “Holy shit.”

“They definitely did more than kiss,” Max said, laughing when you shot her a glare. “What? The trailer walls were thin and you were loud. Well, he was loud. Actually, you both were.”

“I’ll smother you,” you threatened, fighting the urge to run in mortification.

The three of them grinned, even Nancy, and you sighed. “This has been a bit much for me tonight. I – I need a moment.”

“Right,” Nancy said, ever the mediator. She gripped Robin’s arm and herded her out the door. “We’ll see you all tomorrow and the day after. I’ll tell everyone you have a stomachache and went upstairs.”

“Thank you,” you said, squeezing her hand.

“But- wait- I have more questions!”

“Which can wait for tomorrow,” Nancy whispered back. “Come on Buckley, we still have dessert to go through and I’ve got to grill you about Laura.”

“What! Who told!?” You managed to smile when Robin’s voice squeaked.

Splashing some water on your face, you hurried up to your room and almost jumped out your skin when a knock echoed a few minutes later.

Checking the peephole, you let your forehead drop against the door. Of course.

“Yes?” You said, opening it a few deep breaths later.

His concern evident, he took a few steps in and shut the door behind him. “Are you okay? Robin said you were throwing up?” His hands flew to your arms.

You reminded yourself to give her a good punch to the shoulder. “I’m fine,” you told him, opening your door to his room and giving it a sweep to have something to do.

“Wait, hold on a second,” he said, moving to follow after you and stopping once you sent him a glare.

Taking more than the necessary second to check through his hotel room, your thoughts bounced around wildly in your head.

What was he doing here? Did you really want to go down this rabbit hole again? Could the two of you even be friends again? How’d you feel if you saw him dating someone else? Did he want to even do this? What if you were getting ahead of yourself?

“I can hear you overthinking from out here,” he called out.

Shit.

You walked out, eyes landing on him in the doorframe immediately. The second you met his eyes, you felt something in the air shift.

“You’re not sick,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to disrupt anything.

Shaking your head, you wrung your hands together – suddenly nervous. You’d unarmed mercenaries before, other highly trained security personnel, shit – you’d decapitated a monster that had almost killed your sister. You’d stared down Russian soldiers in the face and spat at them.

But this, Eddie standing in the doorway, made you hesitate.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked, taking a step towards you.

You broke the eye contact, looking down at your fumbling hands. “About what?”

“You know what,” he said, taking another few steps into the room. He sighed when you didn’t look up at him. “Sweetheart, if you don’t – if I’ve read this wrong-”

Not able to let him think that he was alone in this, not again, you rushed to explain. “You haven’t. Read this wrong. At least I don’t think,” you threw your hands up, “I don’t know exactly what there is to read, Eddie. I’m…it’s been so long and what if we mess this up again?”

His entire expression transformed. “Mayfield.”

“What?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

Eddie smiled, brow rising, and you suddenly felt the urge to smack him. “Do you want to date me?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. Eddie’s teasing expression softened into understanding.

“Me too. We can be scared together,” he said, outstretching his hand. You hesitated for a moment before intertwining your fingers together. “We can make up the rules as we go. It doesn’t need to be serious, or heavy, it can be whatever we want. We can relearn who we are now, see how these versions of us fit together.”

“I want that,” you said, the words some of the scariest you’ve said in a while.

Eddie beamed at you, his face practically splitting in two. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, because how could you not? Ever since you’d seen him lying there on the floor, your world had been spinning out of control. You had tried to steer it for a while but now you realized, it had just been spinning back to him. “I do.”

Both of you stood like idiots, smiling at the other, until Eddie’s eyes darted down to your lips.

The air crackled immediately in response; a soft current rippled through you. Unable to stop yourself, your own eyes dropped to his lips. You briefly wondered if he still made that noise when you bit down on his neck.

As if reading your mind, his hands trailed down to your hips, pulling you in. For a moment, a small moment, you let yourself be led – but clarity quickly slammed into you and you dodged his kiss.

Hurt, he turned around to look at you. “What – was that too fast?”

“No,” you said, breathing like you’d run a marathon. “I- we can’t.”

“Because?”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re a client! If we – if anything – it’d be unprofessional. I’m your employee. I’m literally being paid to be with you right now.”

“I mean technically you’re the label’s employee- ouch!” Eddie huffed, glaring at the pillow you’d tossed at him.

“No. There are no technicalities here. Not if it comes down to your safety,” you grumbled. “Shit, maybe I should reassign someone.”

Eddie straightened. “You can’t!”

“But-”

“The world already thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at the word, “it wouldn’t make sense to reassign you. You can’t reassign this.”

You sighed when you realized he was right. Shit, were you compromised? Turning to argue, you watched something flash across his expression before he managed to school it back to neural. But this was you and him. You knew him too well. No one like to feel rejected, even if it was for a good reason.

Wanting to soothe any ache you’d inflicted, even if necessary or accidental, you walked up to him again. Placing a hand to his chest, you assured him. “If I wasn’t working, if I wasn’t on assignment. I would. I- you…you have a scar right here,” you said, tapping the edge of his collar.

“They’re everywhere, Mayfield,” he said with a ghost of a smile.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself have this one moment. Your index finger reached out to trace the scar. His skin prickled at the touch, hair standing on end. “It’s shaped like half a heart,” you said, tracing it over and over again. “I want to know what it tastes like. What it feels like under my tongue. I want to know if you still make the same noise when you’re desperate and needy. I want to know so badly it’s been driving me insane trying to deny that truth for the last two months.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened and you felt a small thrill trail down your spine at being able to have done so. “That’s not fair,” he said, voice hoarse.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” you said, not hiding behind your usual wall.

Eddie groaned at your look. “Fuck me,” he sighed, head thumping against the wall.

“I already told you,” you said, smiling cheekily, “I can’t.”

His eyes darkened further and your restraint was seconds from snapping. You waved a hand in the air and put more distance between the two of you. “Okay, okay, walk it off Munson.”

“Stop teasing me then,” he said, baring his teeth.

Alright, fair.

“There’s only a week left of this assignment. Seattle and then LA.”

Eddie nodded. “Then we’re free.”

“Yeah,” you said, both thrill and nervous, “then we’re free.”

///

“No!” A shout from the open doorway pulled you from your uneasy slumber. Sleep clung to your eyes, making everything a little fuzzy, but you let instinct take over. Grabbing the nearest weapon, you all but ran into Eddie’s room.

From a quick glance, you didn’t see anything out of place. Eddie laid on his side on the right, facing the door. You glanced into the bathroom and the open shower. When you glanced back at him, eyes and head clearer, you realized he was asleep. His face scrunched, expression a little anguished. You sat at the edge of the bed, hand coming up to his arm. “Eddie,” you said quietly, shaking him softly. “Eddie, it’s a dream. You’re dreaming.”

His eyes flew open, breath coming in scared pants, and he grabbed your arms tightly. “Are you – is everyone okay?” He stammered.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you assured him, “it was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.”

Except you knew that things were never just a nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice rough. “Did I wake you? Was I screaming?”

You shook your head, waving away his apologies. Running a hand down his head, you took his hand with the other. “We all get them. Are they – do they happen often?”

“Not as much as before,” he admitted, “they always come back when I’m finally feeling okay. Then they strike. It’s like they hide in the shadows for the right time.”

You smoothed the hair away from his face and traced a nonsensical shape into his palm. “I get it,” you told him, because you really, really did. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Eddie hesitated and you frowned.

“What is it?”

“Can you – can you stay?” He asked a little shyly. “I won’t try anything, I swear.”

“A perfect gentleman?” You teased, knowing already that you wouldn’t be able to say no to him. He crossed his heart and you nodded. “If your hands wander, I’m smacking you in the morning.”

“That’s fine,” he said, pulling the blankets up to your chin. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said, yawning.

///

 You woke up slowly, burrowing your face into your pillow, you tried to fight off the day for a few more minutes.

Moving to shift onto your back after a few minutes, you found yourself unable to. You cracked open one eye and realized you weren’t in your bed. Head perking up, last night came back to you in a rush and you looked down to see an arm keeping you securely tucked. Eddie’s chest was practically molded into your back, his nose buried in your neck and breath tickling your skin.

Glancing at the time, you groaned. Shit, you needed to be up and downstairs in a few minutes. “Eddie,” you tapped his wrist softly, “I gotta get up.”

Groaning in response, Eddie pulled you tighter to him, his cheek coming to rest on your head. You, however, blinked at the new sudden pressure you felt against your hip. Trying your best to shift away, you ended up rubbing against him.

A sharp inhale hit your skin and you shut your eyes. Experimentally, you pressed back again, the curve of your hip hitting at the right angle. Eddie’s gritty voice hit your ear. “If you keep doing that, this will get interesting really quickly.”

Eddie’s grip on your waist loosened and you instinctively turned to face him. You both groaned this time, when it was now trapped between you. Eddie rocked forward, almost unconsciously, and you clenched your thighs.

“Eddie,” you said, eyes catching his. You watched, fascinated, as his pupils dilated. Unable to help yourself, you rocked your hips forward again. This time, Eddie panted, his breath hitting your cheeks and you realized your grip on his arm was painful.

“Mayfield,” he hissed, grip on your hip tightening.

Shaking your head, you rolled off the side of the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.

“Mayfield?” He called out, coming over to glance at you over the edge. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you said, trying to calm the embers in your – well, entire body. “We both need cold showers, breakfast, and to get going to the venue. Shit, I might need a drink at this rate.”

Eddie groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. “You and me both.”

You really couldn’t help but laugh.

///

Being back in California settled your nerves from the past week like a wave returning to the ocean. There was something about your home, the city you were born in, that calmed you.

Glancing around the packed club, the one the record label had rented out to celebrate the last concert of the national tour, you took note of all the exits again.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Robin said, dropping herself into the seat next to yours. Her elbow hit you in the side and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry, this place is fucking packed. The next person that accidentally bumps me is getting smacked.”

Suddenly, the booth you were in was surrounded. Everyone had returned with their drinks in hand, Eddie taking your other side and the guys sitting around the table. “Man, everyone from the tour is here! This is great!” Jeff said, excitedly sipping his pina colada. You smiled from behind your hand, his drink of choice hadn’t changed from high school and you couldn’t help  but find it endearing.

Robin straightened. “Wait, this is it,” she said, glancing at you and Eddie. “You’re leaving us after tonight.”

“Well, technically I get a week off and then I think I’ve got a politician’s daughter who needs me for the next month.”

“What?” Eddie said, turning to glance at you. “I thought you were taking a few weeks off. I’ll be in town until we leave for London.”

Oh. You thought he’d be going back to New York after your week off. Robin, clearly picking up on both your tones, stood up. “We need a round of shots. Hey! Can I get a round of shots?”

The entire group groaned and she shot you each a look. A waitress brought them over on a tray and she waved over the few of Julian’s team that had opted to come. The guys and girls smiled and picked up a few shots when Robin urged.

“I want to toast to the woman who swooped in and saved our ass these last two months. Mayfield,” she raised her shot glass, “you’re irreplaceable, the best of the best, and we’re sad to see you go but goddamn, do we love to watch you walk away.”

You sputtered, laugh loud enough to rival the bass coming from the speakers.

“To our new guys,” she said, turning to Julian’s crew, “we’re so glad you’re staying with us. Welcome to Hell. You’ll love it here.” With a salacious wink, she threw back two shots.

The entire group cheered, lifting their glasses and drinking to an end and new beginning.

“God damn,” you hissed, the tequila stinging on it’s way down. Burying your face into Eddie’s shoulder, his hand came up to the back of your head and you felt his laughter beneath your cheek.

“Want something to wash it down with?” He asked, offering up his beer. You scrunched your nose and pointed to the bar.

“Save my seat? I’m going to go get something else. I think I burned my tastebuds off, what the hell was that?” You hissed, kissing his cheek and walking off towards the bar.

The blonde at the end of the counter spotted you and shot you a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?”

Ordering a drink, you added an appetizer as an afterthought. “Actually, can I have two?” She nodded, placing the orders for you and asking what table you were sitting at. Waving away her offer, you pulled yourself onto a barstool. “I can wait, no worries!”

A Corroded Coffin song came on and you grinned as the entire room erupted into cheers. You bopped your head at your seat, singing softly along to the words. A hand came up to your back and you smiled. “I’m just waiting on the-” your voice trailed off when you realized it wasn’t Eddie. “Oh. Uh, hi?”

“Hello,” the guy said, eyes dropping to your chest. You scrunched your nose and pulled back. “Did we meet at that party in Beverly Hills?”

Shaking his hand off your body, you straightened. “No, we did not. Please don’t touch me.”

Instead of insulted, his eyes sparkled – as if rising to a challenge you hadn’t announced. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before – you’re gorgeous.”

“Right,” you said, turning to hop off the stool. You were not going to hurt the stranger because it would kill the mood, you reminded yourself, unclenching your fists. As you took another deep breath, your eyes flew open when a firm grip pulled you into his chest. Shrieking, you went stumbling into his arms. “What the fuck?”

“I like girls who have a little heat,” he said, fingers practically bruising your wrist. “I saw it the moment you sat down. Besides, who wears an outfit like that and doesn’t want to get noticed?”

Trying to keep your temper in check, an image of you flipping him over your shoulder and slamming him into the ground flashed through your mind. Anger somewhat mollified, you were about to rip your arm from his and maybe break his index finger in the process, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Stumbling into another chest, you glanced around to see Eddie’s fierce expression.

“I suggest you get your hands off my girlfriend before I break yours,” he said, tone leaving no room for arguments. Annoyance flashed across the guy’s expression before recognition dawned on him.

“Shit man, I didn’t know that was your girl, honest,” he said, taking a few steps back. His face paled as he stumbled away from the bar and towards the booths on the right. Not releasing his hold on you, Eddie stalked over to Johnson, who was two seconds from climbing onto table to dance.

“Who is that?” He asked her. Her glazed look disappeared at the sound of his tone.

“Plus one from a suit at the label. Want him out?” She said, all traces of inebriation vanishing at will. A bit of pride shot through you at that.

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “I know it’s your night off but he was feeling Mayfield up-”

Johnson’s brows flew up. “And his limbs aren’t broken?”

“I was trying not to make a scene,” you hissed, glaring at Eddie, and smiling at the few concerned looks you were getting.

Eddie’s eyes turned to you for the first time since the bar. Surprised at what you saw, you blinked. “Some things are worth making a scene for,” he turned to Johnson who smiled knowingly.

“I can take care of it,” she assured you both, “with pleasure.”

You turned to Eddie and he spoke before you could. “People are looking, darling, smile.”

“Do not tell me to smile,” you snarked. “I had that handled.”

Not dignifying you with a response, he pulled you into one of the semi-private booths. You growled at him. “Don’t manhandle me like that, I had it covered. It’s literally my job.”

Eddie ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry, I know you could’ve handled it but-” he hesitated, brows furrowing, “sometimes other people can take care of you, you know?”

You leaned back. “What?”

“Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean someone else can’t help. I know you could probably kick my ass-”

“-not probably, I definitely can-”

“-but I’ve still got your back. Even if you don’t need it.”

He was jealous, you realized, finally recognizing the emotion brewing in his eyes.

Oh.

“I…okay,” you said, taking his fingers and intertwining them with yours across the table.

Eddie frowned. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

Suspicious, he leaned forward. “I just – I didn’t like how he had his hands on you. I wanted to punch his stupid face.”

It was very in character that the sentiment made your heart skip a beat.

“Who goes around just grabbing people like that? The way he pulled you- and his stupid suit-” he exhaled harshly. “I’m sorry if I pulled you too hard. I know we haven’t defined anything between us yet-”

“Hey,” you interrupted his nervous rambling. “I can get jealous too you know.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, remembering that stupidly pretty bartender at the Hide Out. The way she’d place her hand on his arm, tracing his tattoos. Blinking away the memory, you raised your eyes up to Eddie’s and felt that first crackle of electricity. “I’ve got to share you with everyone you know,” you teased, “you’re Eddie Munson, famous rockstar now.”

Instead of laughing, Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the tension deepen. The current snapped louder, practically visible. “Yeah, but you wanted me when I was that kid planning campaigns and standing on lunch tables. Nothing, not even sold-out stadiums and big fancy international tours can change that. You were the first.”

“Eddie,” you breathed, fingers digging into his skin, and you suddenly got the urge to kiss him.

He smiled, a soft, excited little thing. “I don’t know if you’ve realized but,” he licked his lip and you followed the motion. “I regret to inform you that your employment for Corroded Coffin has come to an end.”

“Technically it’s to the end of the night,” you joked, laughing when he shot you a half-hearted glare, “but, yes, I do know.”

“So, what do you say we get out of here?” He said, wiggling his brows like the dork he really was. Your heart sung, wanting to reach out and bury itself beneath his skin.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m pretty sure this party isn’t even halfway through.”

Eddie groaned, head lolling to the side. “You’re killing me Mayfield, you’re actually killing me.”

“I’m not,” you huffed, “I’d be a little ruthless if I mentioned that I’m wearing something a bit lacy underneath this all.”

Popping his head up to glare at you, you watched with unrestrained laughter as his eyes lowered – dazed. “That’s not fair,” he grumbled. “Fuck the party, let’s just go. I’ve been waiting years for this.”

“It’s only been two months,” you reminded him, “and we can’t – you have a speech to make with the guys. Robin will kill you if you miss it.”

Eddie’s desperate gaze softened into something tangible. Something real you could almost grasp in your hands. It reached out and stole your breath, leaving you gasping. “No, sweetheart, I’ve been waiting on you for years. I just didn’t realize until last month,” he stood, resting his weight on his forearms to lean into your space, “and I’ve never been one not to go for what I want. And right now, that’s you.”

With a dip of his head, he licked a strip up your neck and nipped at your jaw before hovering just far away enough from your lips. Your heart dropped into your stomach and the velociraptors in your stomach awoke with a vengeance.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you heard yourself say, sounding incredibly breathless.

With one last heated look, he slid out the booth and sauntered through the gauzy curtains. You blinked, watching him walk back towards your friends. That little punk. You groaned, heat swirling through your belly, and you clenched your thighs together.

An hour, tops, and you were dragging that man – rockstar or not – back to your room.

Straightening your shoulders, you stood and made your way over to bar for your drink. The bartender let you know she sent the forgotten appetizers to your table and you nodded, dazed. Making your way to Robin, sipping on your cocktail, you sat next to her.

She grinned at you.

“What?” You groaned around the straw.

“That looked like a heated conversation.”

You shrugged, crossing your legs. “It might’ve been.”

“It had to have been considering the speech the guys are making is suppose to be in an hour.”

Humming, you looked at her a little confused. To be fair, you were still drowning in a cloud of Eddie’s cologne and the memory of his gaze. She pointed to the makeshift stage at the edge of the dance floor where the DJ stood. Gareth was thanking everyone on the tour for their help.

“He came over to let me know they were gonna bump up the speech and ‘do not fucking knock on our door until tomorrow afternoon even if the hotel is burning down’ or else he was plucking eyes out.”

Eddie’s voice came through the mic next and you immediately started choking on your drink, you coughed and thumped your chest, trying to dislodge the ice cube you’d just accidentally inhaled.

“I know,” Robin said, amusedly watching you choke to death. “From now until the afternoon? That’s ambitious. Just try not to break the bed, this is an expensive hotel.”

Glaring at her as you cleared your throat, she cackled. “I better be your best man.”

“Robin!” You gasped, needing a reprieve.

“What?” She huffed. “As if you two would ever end up with anyone else? Please. But seriously, Max gets maid of honor but I’m the best man. Best maid? Whatever. I’ll get to rub it in Steve’s face for years.”

The sarcastic quip on your tongue died as a hand circled your wrist and hauled you to your feet. Glass hitting the table, you stood and whirled to see Eddie’s wild eyes. “Come on.”

“Did you basically announce that we’re together to the whole group?” You hissed, following his lead – you were indignant, not stupid – and turned to glare at Robin as she wolf whistled. “Jeff isn’t even done speaking!”

Eddie, ignoring your words, kept weaving through the crowd. You reached the elevators and you opened your mouth but Eddie shot you a look. “For once, in your life, don’t argue with me,” he said, nipping at your ear and successfully shutting you up.

You were used to being the one that took the lead, Eddie had always encouraged you to do so. So when the elevator shut behind him and his lips crashed into yours for the first time in almost ten years, your legs immediately turned into jelly. Your arms went to his neck, securing him to you as his teeth bit down into your bottom lip. Groaning into his mouth, you ran your fingers through his hair and tugged sharply.

Eddie’s moan echoed in the elevator, reverberating in your bones. His eyes flashed and you shivered, thrilled at the sight. His hand came to your neck and your shoulders hit the back panel. Panting, you stared up at him defiantly and you watched him smile at your – do doubt – swollen lips. His thumb caressed the underside of your jaw and you tried to keep yourself from letting him know how much you enjoyed it.

The glint in his eyes let you know you’d failed but you didn’t mind, especially not when the elevators opened and he all but ran you to the end of the corridor. Not able to keep your hands to yourself, you pushed him against the door and finally, fucking finally, lapped at the scar on his collarbone. His head thumped at the door and you let your hand trail down to palm him through his black jeans. Eddie buckled, pupils blown wide, hands scrambling for the upper hand but you kept him pressed against the door.

Mouth traveling up to the meaty part of his neck, you worried the sensitive skin there and pressed harder. Eddie’s choked whine hit your ear and he panted. “Sweetheart, this is going to be over really soon if you don’t stop teasing me.”

“Oh yeah?” You said, eyeing the red skin at his neck with satisfaction. Eddie’s chest rose quickly, a dazed smile on his face. “Fuck,” you huffed, pushing your disheveled hair from your face.

“What?” He asked, fingers pulling the key card from his pocket.  

“You’re sort of beautiful, Munson,” you said, not stepping through the door as he opened it. Surprised at your comment, he glanced back at you and you smiled. “It’s almost unfair.”

Heat doubling in his expression, Eddie pulled you through the doorway and caged you in on the wall. “You can’t say shit like that to me when you look like that,” he groaned, his lips coming down to your neck this time. You gasped when his hand slipped underneath your top, deft fingers pulling down your bra and palming your chest. “Fuck, I want you so bad.” You whimpered when he brought a knee up between your legs and hissed at the sudden pressure.

Jesus Christ, you needed to take his clothes off, now. You both needed to be in bed, on the floor, against this fucking wall – whatever. But it needed to be soon. Your edges were frayed after this past week of building tension.

Nails digging into his back, you rocked your hips desperately seeking any type of friction. “Eddie,” you mumbled, mind completely gone and eyes opening. You took a moment to adjust the candlelight and then blinked. Candlelight? Wait, what?

The haze in your mind cleared for a moment and your sixth sense popped it’s head up.

“Wait, hold on,” you said, nudging him back – his scent was intoxicating and you needed a breath of clean air. As your brain rebooted, you took a few steps towards the massive sitting room and immediately the hairs on your arm stood on end.

Something was wrong. Really wrong. Fuck. You hadn’t swept the room before you stepped in. “Get out – Eddie, run-”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, confused, and the idiot took a step towards you instead. Acting on pure instinct, you whirled around and didn’t have enough time to bring your hands up. A punch to your face and the subsequent crunch let you know that your nose was broken. Blood instantly gushed down to your mouth. You heard Eddie scream your name, panicked.

Dazed and sprawled on the floor, you watched Eddie launch himself at the man and they went tumbling into the wall. The woman, who had been laid out on the bed, stalked up to you. Her platform heels clacked against the floors and it took you a moment to stop seeing double. Heaving for air, you felt her sharp heel come up to your face. Your head snapped back, sight going hazy again.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t come for you, stupid bitch?” She hissed. “He’s too good for you. I don’t know what he saw in you but we’re finally here. You can’t keep us apart anymore.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, blood dribbling down your chin.

“We suspected you were security, you know,” she said, twirling the knife in her hand, “considering the previous guards were easy to bribe to let us into the hotels and venues. Your guys though, I have to give them credit, clocked us in a second. But we’re devoted. He’s ours.”

You glanced back at where the woman’s companion had Eddie in a headlock, clearly trying to keep from hurting him. Eddie’s eyes caught yours and you tried to will him into collaborating.

“He’s the love of our lives,” she said, looking back at Eddie and blowing him a kiss. “We were all married in our past life.”

With a well-practiced move, you swung you leg out and collided with her. She screamed, tumbling to the ground and you pounced. Your foot came down to her hand with the knife and you leaned your entire weight onto it.

The crunching sound beneath your own heels, and her panicked pained screams, let you know you’d returned the favor and broken her wrist. “Fuck you,” you spat, rearing your hand back and bringing it down onto her temple twice before she went limp.

A fist came down to your hair and dragged you up. The man’s tight grip drew your arm back furiously. With a deep breath, you opened your mouth and unleashed a guttural scream. Throwing your head back, you heard the man shout. He released his grip on you and you turned to face him. He threw his arm out towards you but you side stepped him, using his own momentum, you leaned backwards and hooked your foot around his. In a move your Sensei would be proud of, you twisted and landed hard atop of him. Unfortunately, the man managed to fold your arm in the process and you knew by the exploding pain that if something was dislocated – you’d be lucky.

Already looking for something to grab, you barely managed to sideswipe the lamp Eddie brought down onto the man’s jaw. Going limp, you panted, and swung off of him.

Eddie’s panicked eyes darted over to you. Cradling your bad arm, you pointed to your room. “Go get my duffel bag. The blue one. I have zip ties in there, tie these two to the radiator on the wall.”

“But – Mayfield, the blood – did she – fuck-” he stammered and you looked down to realize he was right. It looked like someone had been stabbed and for a brief moment of panic, you reached out towards Eddie with your right hand. “It’s not me – I’m fucking fine – it’s you!”

You brought your hand up to your face and winced when you felt the cut on your cheekbone and temple. “That bitch caught me when she kicked me,” you said, “head wounds bleed a lot. I’m fine. Eddie, focus – go get the zip ties.”

His breathing was a little shallow, and his skin too pale, but he nodded. Running into your room, you used his absence to heave yourself up. Groaning as the room spun, you limped over towards the phone.

Before you could get there, you watched the door slam open. Martin and Johnson stood in the doorframe, eyes widening as they took you in. “Boss, shit, are you alright?” Johnson said, at your side in an instant.

“Where’s Munson?” Martin asked, already ducking into your room, where Eddie was holding the zip ties in his hands.

“I found them!” He shouted, letting Martin take them from him. At the sight of other people, Eddie darted back over to you.

“Sweep the building, make sure everything is secure,” you told Johnson, the broken nose and hit to your temple starting to make you dizzy.

Martin tied their arms behind their backs and marched over to the phone. “I’ll call you an ambulance boss,” he said, a speck of blood on his cheek and the knife in his hand.

Johnson wrapped your good arm around her neck and guided you out to your room. “How did you know?” You asked, inhaling sharply when you jostled your arm.

“Neighbors called in a complaint about screaming downstairs. Robin sent us up as a joke but we heard your scream from the elevator banks,” she said, face twisting. “I don’t know how they got passed security.”

“I do,” Martin said, holding up a large duffel and some maintenance uniforms. “Medics and police are on their way boss.”

“I want to charge them with everything fucking possible,” Eddie snarled, his hand on your leg. “Jesus Christ, look at the blood.”

Johnson nodded. “Head wounds bleed a lot; it doesn’t look too bad. What’s another few more stitches?” She joked, clinical eyes taking in your nose. “Looks clean but definitely broken.”

“You don’t say,” you snipped, watching through heavy eyes as Johnson smiled.

“She’ll be alright,” she said and you knew it was more for Eddie’s benefit than your own. “She’s got enough in her to still be a sarcastic punk.”

You huffed weakly. “I’m still your boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnson straightened, “hey now, stay awake.”

“Mayfield?” Eddie said, his hand coming out to shake you. Johnson’s fingers smacked your cheek a little but it was futile. Exhaustion and adrenaline swept through you, knocking you down and encompassing you in the dark.

///

You awoke in the ambulance a few minutes later. It seemed that not eating, drinking shitty tequila, and taking a few hits to the head wasn’t a good mix. The EMT had greeted you with a wide smile.

Robin, however, had looked like she was ready to vibrate into a different dimension when she was finally allowed into your room. She stepped in, her suit wrinkled and her expression tight. You were still a little loopy from the pain meds but a nurse had helped you raise the bed so you were at least sitting for the debrief you knew you’d have to give.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she hissed, her fingers coming out to your good wrist.

“It looks worse than it is,” you said, knowing that your face must be bruised to shit. The swelling had already started to set in and you knew that the nose was going to look bad for at least two weeks.

“The nurse said you’d broken something but I thought it was your fucking arm – not everything else!” She said, hand hovering in the air like she was scared to touch you.

You bridged the gap for her and curled your fingers around hers. “Rob, I’m okay. I’ve had worse.”

That didn’t seem to be the right thing to say because she paled. Taking the opportunity, you squeezed her hand and tried to blink back your tears. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice thin, “I am so sorry. I was distracted and didn’t check before we went in. Eddie could’ve been hurt and I-” This time your voice did crack and you tried to swallow around it. The guilt had been eating you alive for the entire time you’d sat in this bed.

How could you have not gone in and cleared the room? You’d been doing it for two months, every day, and you’d forgotten. Everyone made mistakes but mistakes in your field got people killed.

“Sorry?” Robin sputtered incredulously. “Mayfield, you saved his life. You saved both your lives! You’re a fucking hero.”

You shook your head, wincing when it brought a sharp throb of pain.

“Is that why the nurse said I was the only visitor cleared? Eddie’s been driving himself crazy in the waiting room – he’s a wreck out there,” she said, squeezing your hand tightly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“This is my job!” You exclaimed.

Robin’s eyes softened. “The assignment was up yesterday, boss. Besides, they’ve been arrested and slapped with so many charges I’ll be surprised if they’re not in there for a good chunk of years.”

“But I shouldn’t have let my guard down. We were distracted- I let him distract me-”

She smiled sadly at you. “Don’t do this, I know what you’re doing – how you’re working yourself up. Don’t do this to him.”

“Robin, I- I can’t,” you said pathetically, feeling like you were going to throw up.

“Listen to me. You two have always been inevitable. That’s – part of the reason I was insistent on hiring you. I knew that you both were each other’s person. Admittedly, I thought you were both just being stubborn, I didn’t know you’d actually dated. You both just needed the right circumstances and two good nudges. Obviously, you were someone I trusted but…you had to have known. Everyone who looked at you two knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was never pretend. It took three nurses to keep him in the waiting room, Mayfield. He’s – he was losing his mind when they wouldn’t let him ride in the ambulance. Shit, when I saw all the blood, I had a panic attack. It looked like – like when Eddie-” her breath went shallow and she winced at the rattle in her chest. “Fucking PTSD.”

“Fucking PTSD,” you agreed, empathizing completely.

“This wasn’t your fault, is what I’m trying to say. The fact that you two finally came to your senses and got lost in the moment was what we all wanted! For years. Please, don’t hide away from him again.”

The guilt piled on you in epic proportions but you were anything if not stubborn.

You’d almost gotten Eddie killed – except this time it was your fault. You were the one who’d forgotten to double check. You were the one who was suppose to know better. You weren’t dumb kids in over their heads.

Robin sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and patting your hand. “I’ll let them know you’re staying over for observations and you can’t have any visitors until the morning, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, ashamed and relieved all at once.

That night, with your kind nurse checking you once an hour for any signs of a concussion, you watched the stars through your window.

You’d tried and lost, again. You knew that you shouldn’t have taken this job – panic threatened to overwhelm you. It felt like you’d been dropping into the ocean in the middle of a storm. Waves crashed into you, pulling you under.

Like a coward, you’d already asked Max to come get you upon your discharge. You’d heard the hesitation in her voice but she agreed to pick you up from the back. You needed to make it a clean break. Eddie would go off to do better things because he deserved better than you and the baggage you came with.

Chest aching and tears burning, you realize that you had almost made it this time. You’d had what you wanted within reach, fingertips grazing it, until it was snatched away from you again.

You’d learned something though. The second time around hurt more than the first. But at this point, running was second nature.

///

In hindsight, you should’ve known that your patchwork, flimsy at best, plan wouldn’t work. Hiding out for a week in Lucas’ spare bedroom helped you keep up the illusion that you weren’t being the biggest coward in all of existence. Max, like the best little sister in the world, hadn’t brought up the topic and let you mope around as you got used to maneuvering around with a cast on your arm – again.

The phone rang and you instinctively flinched. You heard Max answer and sighed when she called out your name from the kitchen.

“It’s Hopper,” she said, coming to the doorframe. “I promise.”

Grumbling, you picked the phone up from the receiver. “Do you ever pick up the phone?” Hopper asked. “Jesus. I had to hear from Robin that you’re not dead in a hospital somewhere?”

“Sorry,” you grunted, feeling like a kid getting scolded by their parents.

“Listen, I need a favor,” he said.

You groaned. “Hopper, I broke my arm,” you whined.

“And then disappeared off the face of the planet for a week. Joyce was ready to call Murray.”

Sighing, you frowned. “I’m on leave for at least a month – I can work with the cast but my nose needs to heal.”

“Calm down tiger, I just need you to go into the office and meet with some of the suits from the label. They want to hear what happened from your end. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

“Can’t I do it over the phone?”

“Would I be calling you if you could?”

And that’s how you found yourself on your way to headquarters on a Saturday morning.

Jessica, the office admin, greeted you with a warm smile when you arrived. “That looks painful,” she said, whistling.

“You should see the other guy,” you joked weakly.

Her brows rose. “They’re still alive?” She smiled when you laughed. “Come on, they’re already here.”

“Shit,” you glanced at your watch. “I thought I was early.”

“Don’t worry, they haven’t been here long,” she reassured you. She grabbed your bag and opened the door to the largest conference room.

You took a step into the room and froze. Eddie stood, arms crossed, leaning against the large wooden table. Glancing back at the door, Jessica smiled knowingly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

The silence was painful and you sighed. “Eddie-”

“Please don’t be mad at me, I’m so sorry for doing this. You deserve the best and that isn’t me,” he said, eyeing your cast with a guarded expression.

“What?” You said, headache blooming at your temples. You were going to kill Hopper. No, you were going to quit and then kill him.

Eddie nodded to the folded letter next to him on the table. The one you’d asked a nurse to give to him before you’d slipped out the back. He was quoting what you’d written.

“You had some audacity, you know?”

Sighing, you settled into the nearest chair and waved a hand in the air. “What did you want me to do?”

“To fight, for fuck’s sake, fight for us!” He exclaimed. “I know you love me; I know you do. You don’t have to say it, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“It’s in my blood! What do you want me to do? From the first time I fought with the kids, to that last battle. I run, it’s what I do. I don’t – I don’t know how to stop,” you said, voice anguished.

“That’s fine, but let me run with you. I don’t want to catch you, I don’t want to change you into something you’re not – but let me be by your side,” Eddie said, throwing his hand out. “Did you really think you could hand me a letter and think I’d just let it go?”

You didn’t answer because, yeah, that’s what you had thought.

“I let you go once because I thought it was what you wanted – I’m not making the same mistake again,” he said, reverent. “I realized now that you’re scared but, I’m scared too.”

“I almost got you killed,” you said, like a broken record. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry – for everything.”

Eddie sighed. “Mayfield.”

Something snapped within you. “No, Eddie, no – I can’t do this. I can’t – I don’t know why. Maybe that’s all we’re destined to be. An almost. A beautiful, wonderful almost.”

“We were never an almost,” he said, coming up to you, “this is just our story. And this isn’t the end of it - you weren’t the one that got away, you’re the one period. We might’ve worked before but we might’ve not. But those kids in Hawkins? They weren’t an almost. We weren’t almost something. We were something. But this us? Right now? We’re right where we need to be. We were meant for this. This is our story.”

Weak excuses falling at your feet, you gazed up at Eddie’s eyes and stripped yourself bare. “I do love you, I do,” you admitted painfully, “I didn’t think that we’d fit together the same way we did before but we did and I didn’t know what to do with it. Then, the beach happened, the storm – I’m scared. I’m broken, that time in Hawkins broke me and I don’t know how to stay. I don’t know how to plant roots.”

“I do though and I can do it for the both of us until you learn,” Eddie said, eyes looking at your cast sadly. “Do you want this?”

Tears welled in your eyes and you considered lying again. But you couldn’t – not a third time. Against every blaring alarm in you, you nodded. “Yes. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. But – I’m different Eddie, I’m…”

“If you say broken,” he scowled, “you’re not fucking broken.”

“I’m different. I’m haunted. It’s been ten years and it still won’t go away. It gets easier but it’s always there. The assignments I’ve gone on – the shit I’ve seen. I- I can’t cope sometimes. The shadows always come when the sun goes away,” you admitted, saying the words for the first time in years.

“Share them with me. I can help you chase the shadows away. That’s what we do, right? Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”*

At your shock, Eddie smiled softly, kneeling so that he was looking up at you.

“When are you going to learn?” He mused, eyes dancing between yours. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I don’t deserve better because you’re the best of us, Mayfield. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I refuse to let you think otherwise. Because I know you’re brave. I’ve seen it. I can see it now. Let yourself be loved.”

Heart cracking open, you felt tears roll down your cheeks. Your good hand came up to his cheek and you leaned your forehead against his. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your shoulders and batted at the shadows. How stupid of you to think you could outrun him, the same man who stared a tornado of demobats and stood to fight.

“Okay,” you said, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared you’ll bump my nose.”

Eddie’s answering grin was blinding.

///

“I could take a look at the security plans if you want,” you said lightly, inching towards the files on the table and leaning forward.

Yang shut the file closed and shot you a look. “You’re here as a guest of the band’s, Mayfield. Not as security.” She smiled when you pouted.

“Oh come on, you know I’m good,” you whined.

She shook her head. “What you are, is a control freak,” she teased. “Your boyfriend was looking for you a few minutes ago. I’m assuming he went to the stage next.”

You scowled and stuck out your tongue before taking off towards the main stage. Fighting back your smile, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Hearing other people refer to Eddie as your boyfriend, an official boyfriend, always made the velociraptors in your stomach yawn awake. Even after six months.

“There you are!” A pair of arms wrapped around your waist and you jumped.

Turning in the arms, you smiled up at Eddie. “Here I am,” you said, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips. “Where’d you go?”

“Robin needed me. I’m good for the next hour, I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

You quirked your brow. “You have a concert in three hours and they’re letting you leave?” You asked.

“I’ve got you with me,” he said, grinning, “they always trust me more when you’re around.”

Laughing, you tucked yourself under his arm and curled an arm around his waist. “Gee, I wonder why,” you said. Eddie’s finger trailed down your nose and you scrunched it at him.

“Let’s go wander Barcelona,” you said, eyes tracing his movements when he tucked his hair into a baseball cap.

Eddie smiled knowingly when he caught you blatantly checking him out. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, ducking for another kiss.

“You two are disgusting,” Mike called out, carrying the backup guitars towards the stage. “Get a room!”

“I’ll remember that the next time you see El!” You shouted back, laughing when he stuck his tongue out.

“I haven’t seen you in a month,” Eddie huffed, “I’m allowed to be dramatic about it.”

You pulled him towards the side exit. “You’ve never needed permission, Munson, don’t start now.”

Finding a small park a few blocks away, you bought yourself some gelato and sat cross legged on a bench. “Want some?” You asked, offering up a spoonful. Eddie rarely ate this close to a performance but your stomach flipped as you watched his tongue dart out to catch some of the creamy goodness. His tongue managed to swipe your thumb and he smirked.

“Tastes delicious,” he said, leaning closer.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you teased, tilting your head back further so he could nip at your neck. The current flickered for a moment, lying dormant when he leaned away.

The look in his eyes was fond when you couldn’t help but kiss his jaw. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, I’m just happy to have you here,” he said, resting an arm on your knee. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Between the two of us, you’re the one that’s having a harder time accepting this.”

“She’s a kid!”

“Max is an adult, Edward, and may I remind you that you and I were doing a lot worse things when we were younger than her?”

Eddie huffed, squeezing your shoulder. “I just keep picturing them as my little lost sheep, you know?”

“How do you think I feel?” You said. “I can still picture her all tiny and chubby limbs. But he makes her happy, you know? They’ve made it this long anyway – if anything, he took his time.”

“I still can’t believe he asked me for my blessing,” he said and you remembered how Eddie had teared up the day Lucas had asked you for permission to propose to Max. You’d cried, then laughed about how you were going to tell her he’d asked for permission like she was cattle. He’d gotten flustered the more you teased and you honestly wished you would’ve recorded it.

“I bet she cries,” you said, tearing up at the thought. Your little sister was getting married.

Eddie kicked a leg out. “Nah, she’ll probably tackle him to the floor while he cries.”

“Also likely,” you admitted. “Hey, you think we’ll ever get married?”

Choking, Eddie turned to you, shock all over his face. He sputtered a few times, mouth gaping.

“What? You planning on breaking up with me?” You asked, curled your tongue around the plastic spoon.

At that, he reanimated. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just – I didn’t think you’d want…to do that.”

That was fair. Considering your history.

“Would you want that?” You asked, curious. You didn’t have a preference really; your parents had been married and then your mother had married Neil. That was enough to remind you that marriage wasn’t the end all.

“A few years ago, I would’ve said no,” Eddie confessed, “but, I gotta admit, I want everything with you, sweetheart.”

Biting back a grin, you nodded. “Then, let’s do it.”

“Did you just propose to me?” Eddie asked, laughing and ducking when you swatted at him.

“No, doofus,” you rolled your eyes, “I meant let’s do it eventually. I want a ring and to actually be asked.”

“That’s weirdly traditional for you,” he teased.

You shrugged. “I want everything with you too,” you said, delighting in the way his eyes went soft and gooey, “besides, I want you down on one knee.”

Eddie wiggled his brows. “You have me down on my knees a lot sweetheart, doesn’t take much.”

Ignoring him, you jabbed him with a finger. “Don’t you dare ask either of my parents for permission.”

“Noted.”

“Maybe I’ll propose to you, we both know Wayne would say yes.” You thought about it and wondered what kind of ring he’d like.

Eddie rolled his eyes, all suffering. “We get it, you’re the favorite.”

“Don’t forget it,” you said, bumping your arm into him. “You’re my favorite, if that’s any consolation.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at you. “It is.”

Checking your watch, you stood. “Come on, we’re cutting it close. Yang’ll want to run through a few perimeters checks and she said I could help.”

Grabbing your hand, Eddie let you lead. “Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation?” He asked.

“Hey, I’m all yours after this,” you said, “last concert of the tour and we get a month to ourselves in Europe.”

Eddie grinned, kissing your temple. “There’s this bakery in Florence that I know you’re going to love. I want to take you so many places. Oh, there’s a bookstore Gareth found in Lisbon!”

You watched his face come alive as he recounted his tour of the Eiffel Tour. Yeah, you thought to yourself, you might not believe much in marriage, but you believed in Eddie.

///

“Muchas gracias Barcelona!” Eddie said, waving to the crowd as they screamed themselves hoarse. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. They’d done it – they’d finished the first part of their world tour.

The label had given the green light for another six months in the next year but this one had been a success in ways no one could’ve predicted.

Gareth darted past you first, falling into the arms of his new girlfriend. You, ready for it, found your arms filled with a practically buzzing Eddie. He hugged you tightly. “We did it!”

“You did it, I’m so proud of you,” you said, shouting a little to be heard over the fans.

You walked deeper into the side stage and took Eddie’s hand in yours. “Sorry, I’m all sweaty,” he said, bouncing on his toes. The boys were always energetic post-concert, you knew it was the adrenaline of performing. Eddie had once told you he’d hoped that the novelty would never fade.

“It’s never bothered me before,” you said, doing a perfect impersonation of his eyebrow wiggle. Eddie, however, stilled. His hair was frizzy, wild, and his smile was just a little unhinged.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you said, you loved all versions of him. “I’ll love you forever.”

His smiled turned into something soft. You beamed back at him, knowing that he reveled in it every time you said it. And it was so easy to give him what he wanted, because Eddie was, by far one of the easiest people to love. He was the man you’d love for the rest of your life. It was hard sometimes but, you made it work.

Eddie’s fingers came up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you echoed, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed, delighted, and then – like a switch had flipped – they turned. His eyes were ravenous and hands everywhere.

His lips trailed open mouth kisses down your throat, his hands going lower and lower-

“Jesus Christ, I’m fucking blind,” Dustin cried, hands coming up to slap against his eyes. “This is a public area! Can you two get a goddamn room?”

Eddie’s insistent hand pulled you off towards an empty one down the hall. “Good idea Henderson.” Powered to ten, the electricity between you two popped, tying you together.

Dustin gagged but you’re too enamored to care much. “We’ll catch up!” You shouted over your shoulder.

“Not likely,” Eddie said, pushing you into the room and locking the door behind you. “Now, where were we?”

As he pounced, your back hit the velvet sofa, you laughed. His teeth nipped at your neck and you wrapped your arms around him. Just before your mind went fuzzy, you had one last rational thought.

Maybe you did owe Hopper a bottle of scotch.

    A/N: just reposting this one now that my stuff is reflecting in the tags correctly -- because I wasn’t showing up for a hot minute there! :( 

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”*  Sade Andria Zabala wrote this but it fit and I had to include it!

[letters-from-dekarios]

My dear Gale,

I write to you in hopes of finding comfort in your words. If I have never told you before, our conversations have always been a quick way for me to cheer up in the most dire of situations. Now while we are apart, I hope writing to you will have the same effect.

I cherish you dearly. I am afraid to put a name to my feelings because I have been burned once by my heart already. I loved someone - a beautiful companionship that brought light into my life for several years but I was terrified of not being enough. That I might mess up and ruin everything. That all the sweet words I heard every day could be lies to just soothe my anxious and insecure heart. In my fear of losing my love, I unintentionally drove my love away, left alone to now deal with my own broken heart.

And just shortly after that, I found myself recovering from a crashed mind flayer nautiloid and meeting you. In awe of you. Inspired by you. Adoring you. Cherishing you. I never thought I would be capable of feeling such emotions again but my heart betrays my mind, and I find that familiar fear creeping up on me once more.

I am suffering from nightmares - memories of my past. Memories of being loved. Memories of being left alone. While when we were close together I could simply wave them off by having our conversations I cherished so dearly, now while we are apart I am haunted by them once again.

I am terrified to feel again. I am terrified of even writing this letter, but it has been slowly and silently consuming my waking thoughts and I long to hear from you again. Hoping your words could soothe me. Hoping I could experience some semblance of normalcy again.

I do apologize that this is how I confess my emerging feelings for you. If I were more myself - before loss, before tadpoles, before demons - I might have done this better but alas this is all I can do as I am now.

I anxiously but eagerly await your response,

Stelle

Beloved Stelle,

It’s with the most honor and respect I give my thanks to you for your compliments. I know my words can be full of themselves, and oftentimes run-on sentences get the best of me. But, alas, I do try to bring some joy with my speech and it pleases me to know I can accomplish that with you.

Trust not in your fears, I know exactly what you mean and I understand. You well know of my own folly with my Goddess and the pain it caused me. It leaves a horrid taste in your mouth that is not quickly washed away. Only through time does the feeling dissipate, and you can enjoy other things once more. All of us have been through a considerable amount, especially you. It’s only right to attempt to hide the things that scare you in this day and age when those apprehensions can easily be turned against you.

Believe me when I say that I would have your confession no other way. While the anxieties of our pasts may bring us to a low, they also make us who we are. No one wants to relive trauma, but it shapes us and forms us into the magnificent creatures we are now. It’s only through lived experiences do we understand ourselves and grow. You are no exception to that.

I know what it’s like to be hurt in such a way by someone you trusted. I know the aching feeling you find in the pit of your heart. I know the nightmarish horrors that attack when you’re most vulnerable, like thieves in the night attempting to steal your peace. What you experience is no stranger to me.

I would be foolish to underestimate my feelings for you, as new and as exciting as they are. I want to do right by you, even with the emerging threats around us. I can’t say I haven’t adored you either, or been inspired by your strong faith in the face of our perilous journey. Time and time again you have proven to be strong, wise, and honestly quite convincing. I don’t know how you do it, but I’d like to.

You’ve no reason to apologize. I should be the one apologizing for not being the first to admit feelings. Perhaps that would make you feel less awkward if you knew I shared them all the same.

I am more than thrilled to know your regard for me is more than a surface-level distinction of my general attributes. I’d love to explore these feelings with you, if you’ll have me. And if you’d join me tonight, I’d like to show you something within the Weave that may make my feelings seem clearer to you.

With all my love,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (04) | 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; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

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 I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest. 

You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all. 

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it. 

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath. 

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him. 

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries. 

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.  

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks. 

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there. 

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages. 

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt. 

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains. 

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff. 

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is;  he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened. 

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so. 

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him. 

“It was heavy,” he admits. 

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss. 

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away. 

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all. 

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night. 

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says. 

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them. 

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other. 

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting. 

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open. 

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think. 

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything. 

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him. 

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily. 

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu. 

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative. 

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons. 

You look at him, waiting for his instructions. 

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go. 

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms. 

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it. 

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all. 

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before. 

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had. 

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside. 

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is. 

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own. 

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him. 

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment. 

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes. 

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day. 

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything. 

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do. 

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away. 

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do. 

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower. 

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly.  But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology. 

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze. 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way. 

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father. 

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning. 

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on. 

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours. 

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?” 

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.   

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now. 

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie. 

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past. 

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects. 

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing. 

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you. 

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience. 

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?” 

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly. 

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike. 

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself. 

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it. 

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways. 

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation. 

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work. 

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying. 

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.  

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though. 

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him. 

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.” 

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you. 

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it. 

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks. 

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch. 

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow. 

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring. 

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten. 

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week. 

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself. 

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday. 

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting. 

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day. 

“Does that bother you?” He follows up. 

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you. 

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds. 

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you. 

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously. 

He nods anyway and asks you to continue. 

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well. 

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief. 

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard. 

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again. 

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind. 

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.” 

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need. 

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be. 

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay. 

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. 

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now. 

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t. 

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines. 

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again. 

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that. 

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs. 

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you. 

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop. 

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same. 

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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[shiikiyun]

Futa Kajiyama and Remorse

by someone that would hit him in the head if they had the chance

The discussion over whether Futa's shown remorse over his actions is genuine or not is something that has existed for years at this point, and it'll probably always be a debate. Just thought I'd give my personal take on it.

Starting off by saying that it is very ironic that a huge part of the discussion on his character and crime is how genuine he is when he admits fault, considering his case is entirely related to social media, almost like how when public figures online mess up and everyone else picks apart their apologies and rate the sincerity of them (not saying it's a bad thing, influencers will explode before handing a good apology, i just thought it was funny to point out). That aside, let me actually talk about him.

First, what did he do? In short, he began a witch-hunt campaign and doxxed a middle-schooler over a claim with no basis that said kid tried to reason with him over and he ignored, (pressumably) pushing her to suicide. Fucked up. Very understandable unforgiven veredict in the first trial, since his denial of his actions was so strong, he had it coming for sure.

Now, his feelings around his crime. It's said a lot that he doesn't feel sorry for his victim, that he only feels anxious and "guilty" because he's facing consequences and he's scared of dying, so he'll do anything to avoid that (so; admit fault, even if he doesn't believe he was wrong). And he is stubborn, so it's not crazy to see it that way, but—

Does he really not care?

From the way I see it, Futa is telling the truth when he says he never intended her to die. Personally, I would "should've thought about it twice then?" 'd him if I could, but I can't in good faith call him disingenuous for saying he didn't want it to end that way.

People don't take their actions on social media seriously. This happens all the time. People will say they most cruel things to strangers over minimal disagreements, and they don't consider it to be that damaging because "it's just social media". Futa is no different than that.

He got a power trip from the praise he received after he called out a teacher for sexual harrassment (which is obviously an actually fair reason to dunk on someone), took it too far over something mundane, and it actually had real life consequences on an innocent person. And he knows this. He's always known. The very moment he realizes what he did is when he's horrified of himself and is visibly shocked— He didn't want this. But he did it, and now there's blood on his hands.

To call that reaction disingenuous, or relate those feelings solely to the fact that he's facing consequences now, is completely ignoring that it happens before he's aware about receiving backlash from his friends.

That's where his anxiety comes from. He's always known he fucked up awfully. When ES insists on him being a murderer, what makes him stutter and show fear is that same word. He's a murderer, and he can't cope with that, but he knows what he did no matter how much he denies it. From the very beginning all Futa has been is a coward; unable to accept that his actions killed someone until he gets some sense literally beat up on him.

Now, this is where I drift onto something even more people might disagree with, but personally I think it's intentional. The representation of his victim, in both MVs.

Because Futa saw no difference between her and other people him and his friendgroup judged, firstly, she's shown as a videogame monster. Her silhouette changes to a more human-like one when he realizes she died, but that's about it. It shows more of his attempt at dettaching from what he did, refusing to see things for what they are.

But then Backdraft came and totally changed that.

I have to bring up the other 2 monsters to make my point clearer. Like I said, in Jihen Joutou, Futa pictures all of his targets as monsters. In Backdraft, the first 2 remain the same style, but Killcheroy changes.

isn't she adorable, by the way?

Unlike the other two, she's a completely different art style. Cartoony, cute, childish. Because Futa finally got to a point where he can't separate his actions from himself anymore, and had to recognize to have played part in her death, we see his victim for what she is—

A middle schooler.

Of course, her straight up appearing would've been enough to convey that, but the addition of making her character different (innocent, friendly, harmless) further shows how Futa does recognize that he hurt a child that ultimately wasn't doing anything wrong.

And, lastly, and this is entirely personal and where even More people might not agree: I just don't he's lying. I don't think he's trying to manipulate anyone into thinking he feels remorse just to get relief. I believe him when he says he knows what he did was wrong and he regrets doing it, that he wouldn't do it again. And I also understand (and agree) when he says ES, and us by extent, are doing the same.

People in the fandom like to act like he's crazy in the head (hyperbole) for saying that, that he is entirely saying it to guilt ES into forgiving him, and it honestly exhausts me. So like, hey, I'm not Futa, I'm part of the audience and I've voted. So let me say it: We are in fact the same.

He is not wrong in believing it. The MILGRAM system only abuses people under the excuse of giving justice and punishment to those that deserve it regardless of the degree of their crime— And I'm not talking about Kotoko. The psychological torture all 10 of these people are going through is not fair, not on the most forgivable one, nor the least. It is just an abusive system. This system killed people, some of which were teenagers, for having a troubled life. How is that any different from him?

Now I just said we are the same for the dramatism— Of course we are not the same on the basis that we are not actually hurting real people, but like, this fictional character doesn't have a conscience. By MILGRAM canon we really are just a bunch of people getting entertainment from 10 troubled people getting tortured. And as for ES, them continuing to partake on their role when they saw the extreme consequences it has just because they were told to do it is... Yeah, can you really blame any of the prisoners for thinking the guard is also in the wrong?

Ultimately, to conclude: I don't think Futa feels no remorse, nor do I think he only feels bad because he got consequences for it, and I don't understand this point of view. He's shown distress over his actions before backlash came his way, and right now he's at a point where he can't ignore that he fucked up and he will admit to it just fine. He is just simultaneously (and rightfully) upset that a fucked up system that does the same if not worse is the one that gets to decide whether he should be forgiven or not, because in all honesty, none of the prisoners deserve to be judged by MILGRAM.

Aaanyhow, that is it for me. I wrote this in a delirious state from sickness so I hope it's readable and coherent. Peace

Note: i know its implied es attempted to stop the trials and it didnt work, i dont think theyre evil and entirely on a power trip... please dont misunderstand the bit i talk abt es as me saying theyre evil and entirely on a power trip thank you

[stxrbpd]

me & my eating disorder.

i remember hating my body at 10.

i remember finding out about eating disorder tumblr. i remember taking cold bath after cold bath because someone on tumblr said itd burn calories.

i remember saving loads of “diet plans”, ana memes, desperately searching every day and night for more ways to lose weight and control my eating.

more ways to make myself fall sicker.

downloading app after app, fasting, restricting, counting calories, bmi, etc etc etc.

i cant look at food the same. i cant look at most things the same.

the most random stuff will trigger me and give me the strangest flashbacks.

trying to recover again, and again. only to fall back deeper into my eating disorder.

being on ed communities on tumblr, twitter & instagram.

making “friends” who help me starve and yell at me if i go over the calorie limit of the day, giving me punishments.

over exercising day and night, scrolling these ed communities every morning like a newspaper. every night like a bedtime story.

posting body checks, weight updates, finding thinspo.

binging and feeling terrible and losing my progress. then throwing it all back up and sobbing on the bathroom floor. or throwing it up into a bag in my bedroom and tossing it when nobody’s awake so they wont question why i was puking.

i have been doing this for 10 years.

its consumed my entire soul and being.

its never enough. my eating is the only thing i can control, and i might as well control that. my weight is the only thing i can control, if i try hard enough.

crying night after night after night on why im not skinny enough.

comparing myself to my friends, family, strangers. even children and cartoon characters. “god why cant i look like them?”

feeling absolutely fucking huge in a group setting and having silent anxiety attacks over it. running to the washroom to look at my body and see if i really look as huge as i feel.

being asked for a t shirt to borrow so it can be over-sized on my skinny friend.

watching the most disgusting youtube videos i could find of mukbangs so i would lose my appetite and never want to eat.

picking up smoking because i heard itd cause my appetite to suppress.

drinking green tea to boost my metabolism, chugging water bottle after water bottle, chewing gum all hours of the night, walking for over 3 hours a day for no reason, protein bars, laxatives, feeling jealous of sims, diet coke, making playlists of ed songs, hoarding food in my room, chewing and spitting, spraying perfume on food so i cant eat it, taking dinner to my room to “eat” then hiding it under my bed until people are asleep, finding out calories before consuming food, exercising in bed, hating yourself if youre even 5 calories over your daily limit, considering doing drugs to lose weight, being jealous of thinner friends, panic attacks when needing to eat in front of people, feeling like you need to self harm after eating for punishment, trying to burn off every calorie you ate that day, fainting, being dizzy, hair falling out, bruises everywhere, brain fog and constant fatigue, thinking constantly about your next meal and when the next time you’ll eat be and making the most of it.

yet it still feels, not enough.

my eating disorder will forever be apart of me. even in recovery, i think back of all of these things and it digs into me, ruining me, and scarring me.

[ashs-reverie]

Helloooo

I saw your post about being super anxious about going to Uni and I related to that a lot, but I’ve made considerable progress with that as my studies went on. So I decided to share the things that helped me :)

• Getting to know the town. I moved somewhere entirely new for university and I was so terrified of getting lost and interacting with people. Everytime I had to leave my apartment I would be an absolute mess. I worried about taking the wrong bus or getting off at the wrong stop and basically everything that could happen. Walking around with low stakes and learning the bus routes and just getting used to where everything was helped a lot. Going somewhere entirely new still sucks but at least I’m comfortable where I live.

• The above also applies to knowing your campus. I used to arrive about 20mins early for most of my classes cause I was so scared of walking in even a little late cause most of the doors are in front in my Uni💀. The first time I went to the canteen I was such a wreck cause I had no idea how it worked. So I went very early so I could figure out how to load my student card in peace, then I hung back for a bit to see how other people got their food lmao. This is till something I do a lot, if I don’t know how something is done or I’m scared of messing it up, I just hang back and watch other people do it first.

• As for talking to people…. I can’t help much there😭. I didn’t make any friends till my 3rd semester, and even then it was more of a I sat with them in class, but they wouldn’t sit with me💀. Anyway, everytime I had to talk to a stranger it was really tough and I had a very hard time maintaining normal back and forth conversations. The anxiety around this kind of eased with time. As I got more comfortable with everything else, the loneliness kicked in so hard and then anytime anybody spoke to me it made me so happy, alongside the anxiety. So the experience wasn’t all negative anymore and I wanted to drag the conversation for as long as I could. I started looking up things to talk about on Pinterest💀💀💀. I’m still not sure why speaking to people makes me so anxious, so I haven’t solved it completely yet. But try to remember that most people do want to make friends too. Things may get awkward but most people have good intentions and I hope that helps to ease your mind.

Give yourself time to get used to the new environment. I can’t even imagine the jump from being home-schooled to this. I hope my meager advice helps in any way at all and I wish you all the best!!!🤍🤍

Girl you have no idea how much i relate to thiss i thought ppl just miraculously just fit in and make friends and its all butterflies and rainbows...i hv the same fears, i was even going to take a major in which there was least amount of talking (presentations,speeches,etc) but i didnt cos my main goal to go to uni was to get out of my shell and comfort zone so here i am still freaking out :,) Thankyou so so much girl i really appreciate you typing all this out for me 😭 that is a really great tip to reach earlier to places to familiarise myself (i used to but i wl pay attention to that more) Now i feel a lot at peacee :)) i will definitely keep all this in mind thankyouuu <33

[fallen-faerie]

You've never been "original" either lmfao☠️ everything stolen or copied from someone else. Sigh.

i'm genuinely confused by this. i come online and post pretty pictures and share stuff about video games most of the time. idk what i stole or copied in doing that? of course 90% of the images i post aren't mine and are edits of photos found on pinterest but when i have the credit for them i always give credit when i can. if you have a problem with that then tumblr is NOT the social media platform for you because BTW MOST of what ppl share and post on here is not original photography. i've seen countless blogs post the same exact photos. its not a big deal unless you are claiming someone's art as your own, which i've never done and would never do.

also, if you think i'm so awful and claim i do all these things then why do you continue to look at my page? what is the point of that? do you genuinely have nothing else to do other than harass strangers for literally no reason? what do you gain from hiding behind a screen and insulting someone you don't know. you only see what i choose to post and maybe 1% of that is about myself or my life. i mainly use social media to share my interests and express myself.

i don't wish any bad vibes your way, but i do sincerely hope you find it within yourself to do yourself a favor and spend your time doing positive things that will actually benefit you or make you happy. i can't imagine someone who is happy with their life would want to harass someone they will never meet or has no affect on their life whatsoever.

we both deserve better.

harassment gives me anxiety to the extreme, but i felt it was necessary to address you in a way that will hopefully open your eyes to how much of a waste of time it is to send messages like this. you only get ONE life. as someone who almost lost my life MANY times, it taught me to make the most out of my time here on this earth. i choose to spend that time doing what makes me happy and sharing what makes me happy with others. so many people message me on a daily basis telling me how much they enjoy my silly little edits on here. and i love that.

tearing other people apart constantly usually means you aren't happy with yourself. hurting people will hurt people. i don't want that for you. and i don't want to be at the receiving end of it either. my blog is my own. i will post and share whatever i wish to. and if you still choose to be mean about it thats on you, but its not going to make a difference in my life.

𝔅𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔅𝔢 ☽🌕☾