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notjustjavierpena · 7 months ago

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Ofrenda

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Happy Day of the Dead to all of my followers! I hope you’ll take this time to reminisce about the loved ones that you have lost, and smile when you think of them. I thought of my mom the whole time while writing this, and it makes me sad to know that I live in a country where we view death so gloomily when life should be celebrated. I have written this with utmost respect for the Mexican tradition, trying to do endless amounts of research. I have also written this with endless gratitude to be able to express my love for Javier and his family as well as my own mother at the same time. We never get enough time together, so this beautiful holiday is so heartwarming. Hope you like it ❤️!

Summary: You make an altar with your family for Javier’s mother during Día de Los Muertos.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, depictions of grief, loss of a (grand)parent, family dynamics, so much love in this little family, domestic bliss, non-explicit descriptions of sex, love confessions

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60151243

Ofrenda

You are in the kitchen, cutting the stems of marigolds on an angle into the sink. The scent of the flowers is citrusy and slightly spicy, complimenting the lemon cookies that are in the oven and nearly done. Beside the sink lies several bare stems too because Lucas is holding a bowl of their petals in his small hands.

He shows it to Inés, “You need to take a handful.”

“But I want cookies,” she only looks down into the bowl of orange for a moment before her attention turns to the oven, her little hands reaching out until you manage to stop her. She makes a noise of complaint but the mood of the room makes her dial down on how much she wants to fuss about it.

“The cookies are not for us!” Her brother replies with a serious look in his eye, clearly feeling authoritative in the task at hand, “They’re for Abuela (Grandma).”

“I’m sure you can have a few of them. She won’t mind,” Javier declares with a chuckle as he enters the kitchen too. His presence makes you smile to yourself, another burst of citrus filling the room as you cut yet another collection of flowers. You’ve filled almost two vases with them, have chosen the ones decorated with your favorite patterns, and fluffed them to look like two balls of sunshine.

“But she needs them. If she doesn’t get them, she doesn’t know where to go,” Lucas insists with a pout when his father crouches down between the two of them. He gives a look of concern as if he is the only one taking this seriously. You look over your shoulder and feel a flash of pride at how sensitive a boy you have made, but you don’t intervene because you know Javier has the situation under control.

“Sí, mijo (yes, my son),” he places a hand on the back of his son’s head, pulling him in to kiss his hair, “They’re for her but I am sure she’ll be happy to see you enjoy them too. She liked sharing with whom she loved.”

“Cookies for grandma and Inés,” Inés says proudly as if she finally understands the importance of the baked goods. Lucas’ expression eases a little as he stares at his baby sister’s longing but then he says her name.

When she whips her head around, he shakes the bowl of flower petals, showing them to her again. You can see how much Javier loves how he is taking this to heart.

“Just a little handful, okay?” Lucas encourages.

Inés’ little fingers dig into the petals, bringing up a much larger fistful of the bright orange marigolds than intended. She stares at them with wide eyes, enchanted by the strong color. Her little mouth falls open with a quiet pretty and she nods seriously. Lucas nudges her with his elbow, directing her back to the task, “Come on, we gotta put them on the ofrenda (altar) so Abuela knows we remember her.”

They exit the kitchen and make their way to the small altar you’ve set up in the living room. You check the timer on the oven but there’s still eight minutes to go, so you and Javier take a vase of flowers each and carry them to the table that’s been draped with a bright, woven cloth, and adorned with pictures, candles, and memories of Javier’s mother.

As you set down the vase of marigolds, you spot the tiny figurine that you have come to know so well too; a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe. She stands by the picture of Javier’s mother, face tipping towards her as a silent protector. The photograph of her is from when she was young enough to be just a few years out of high school, smiling widely with her dark hair tied back like you have seen so many times in other photos. She looks so much like Javier and how you remember her from the very first photo you saw of her, the one that you sneakily glanced at back at Don Chucho’s ranch on Javier’s desk in his teenage room. The one that the figurine stood guard over. That was before you knew what kind of life awaited with her son but you’re sure it was when you realized what kind of husband he would be.

Javier sets down his vase as well, his eyes lingering on the photo of his mother for a moment before he busies himself with adjusting the flower arrangement, testing out a few angles. You touch his shoulder in silent support and smile gently at him. It earns you a little smile in return, one that seems full of gratitude and love.

“You okay?” You mouth.

Javier nods. He finally lets go of the vase and at the same time, a deep breath of air, suddenly satisfied with his work because his heart feels lighter. Not long after, he leans in to kiss you briefly on the lips, eager to make you giggle as he steals another peck while you complain about being covered in specks of flour and sap from the flowers. It’s messy, you say. He thinks you’re perfect.

As you draw away from each other, Inés and Lucas scrunch up their faces and crinkle their noses at the display of affection. However, even so, you can see the tiny smiles hidden behind the mock outrage. They stand by a little impatiently as they watch you smooch, a drizzle of orange petals trailing Inés due to her getting distracted and forgetting they’re still in her hand.

“Inés!” Lucas has the same exasperated look on his face as earlier when he notices the mess. You said earlier that it would be Inés’ first year of joining in on creating the altar and understanding its purpose, and Lucas has taken his role in it very seriously. He is clearly feeling the responsibility of teaching her the tradition right now.

“Sorry,” she drags out the word, a guilty expression on her face, and tries to bend down to scoop some of the petals into her palm again, only seeming to increase the mess.

Lucas puts down the bowl of petals to help her, coming off as slightly distressed. He has furrowed his brow as he concentrates, acting as if the entire success of this moment is relying on him, “Abuela can only visit if you put the flowers on the table!”

“Luke,” you crouch down after exchanging a look with Javier. You soothe your son by running a hand up and down his back, “Abuela is always with you. This is just to do something extra special for her.”

“But what if she can’t find her way?” Lucas asks with concern on his face as he puts down the bowl and starts gathering marigold petals, “We have to make it special.”

“Mamá’s right, we are making it special, mijo, because of all the care you’re putting into this. That’s what’ll guide her here tonight, not whether the cempasúchiles (marigolds) are perfectly placed on the table,” Javier reassures gently and crouches down beside the two of you, Inés mirroring him immediately. All four of you start picking up the remaining petals from the floor and Lucas visibly relaxes a little more, reassured that things might not be catastrophic after all.

Your husband takes Inés’ small hands in his and guides her through the process of gently scattering the flowers across the table, their vibrant color standing out beautifully against the crisp white cloth. The orange and gold complement the papel picado on the wall behind the altar too.

“Flowers for Abuela,” Inés scans the sight before her and then claps her hands with a big grin. She beams with pride, so much so that even Lucas finds her joy infectious and smiles as well. Inés points her little fingers to her work, “Making it special!”

“She’ll see those flowers and know you put them there for her,” Javier explains, still crouching on the floor next to Inés. She leans into him. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her even closer so he can plant a little kiss on her cheek, tickling her with his mustache until she giggles.

“Did Abuela like flowers, too?” Lucas asks and moves onto his father’s other side, resulting in him also getting dragged closer. From the look on Lucas’ face, you can see that it has been his plan all along

“She loved them,” Javier answers with a reminiscing smile, “You remember how many flowers there are in Abuelo's (Grandpa) garden, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Both Lucas and Inés say right after each other.

“Abuela planted them and she loved them just as much as she loved lemon cookies,” their dad recalls fondly and there’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “Well, almost just as much.”

At the same time, the timer in the kitchen dings. Inés whips her head in your direction expectantly and you laugh softly as she itches to tell you to get a move on,

“I’ll get the cookies,” you say to make Inés sparkle with glee. You give Javier’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before slipping back into the kitchen. You can hear your children chatting softly with their father as they stay by the altar.

In the kitchen, you take the cookies out and place them on a cooling rack, enjoying the familiar scent of sugar and butter that wafts through the kitchen. The cookies are still very hot to the touch but you carefully transfer a bunch of them to a plate.

“Here we go,” you say as you reenter the living room.

“And she had this laugh… Oh, when you really got her going, it would echo through the whole house,” Javier shares.

“Like Mom,” Lucas says and follows you with his eyes.

“Much like Mom, yeah,” Javier agrees and you smile shyly as all eyes land on you. They have shifted to sit down on the floor in front of the altar, moments ago staring up at the colorful display while Javier told stories of his mother. Now, the three of them have stopped talking when they see you place the lemon cookies on the table, anticipation on their faces.

“Hola, esposa (hello, wife),” Javier says with a soft smile, the kind that makes your cheeks warm because you know he loves you.

“There are plenty of Abuela’s favorites left in the kitchen,” you say as you take four cookies from the plate and make sure the rest of them look presentable. Then you kneel down next to your family, handing each of them a still-warm cookie, “Careful, they’re still hot.”

With the altar complete, the four of you sit together on the floor, a quietness settling over you. Between the picture of your mother-in-law, the lit candles flicker and cast soft, dancing shadows. The combined scent of the marigolds and the lemon treats makes the room smell lemony and spicy, and small decorative butterflies catch the eye between the paper banners.

Inés nibbles on her cookie, looking deep in thought, so you reach out to brush her hair out of her face. Her soft voice finally asks, “Do you miss her, Papá?”

Javier stops right as he is about to take another bite of his cookie. He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. It seems like a gut punch but one that he has learned to expect from having small children. He thinks for a second then nods. When he speaks, his eyes are shiny as they prick with tears and you can hear a slight trembling in his voice, “I do, baby. I miss her every day.”

Inés looks shocked at having caused her father to cry. She puts her cookie down on the floor and you quickly scoop it up. She crawls to sit in front of him on her knees, wiping away a tear that has made its way down his cheek after reluctantly escaping the corner of his eye, “Are you sad?”

“Yes, sometimes,” he breathes and looks down, sniffs, “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Lucas argues, looking to you for reassurance.

You nod and move to sit closer to Javier, pulling him into an embrace which he returns by holding your arm. You look at your son while resting your chin on top of Javier’s head, “Go on, Luke.”

Lucas takes a moment to find the right words, visibly skimming through the lessons you have taught him to find the one that applies here. He joins the hug, “Mom says that it's okay to feel sad when we miss someone because it means you really love them… It makes me feel good to miss Mom when I am at school because then I remember her.”

Inés, who has been quietly observing, joins as well. She rests her head against his shoulder, "We love you, Papá."

“I love you too,” he says and the words seem to give him a little courage, “Of course, it makes me sad, mija (my daughter). But having you, your brother, and Mamá here. It helps.”

“I know I say it all the time but I wish I could have met her,” you chime in and kiss the top of his head repeatedly, trying to keep it together yourself, “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“Inés and I wish that too!” Lucas adds, “We can do this every year!”

“Make cookies!” Inés exclaims excitedly. They both eventually pull back after remembering the baked goods. Returning to lemon cookies laid out near the ofrenda, they chew happily. You snicker at Inés' excuses to eat anything sugary and squeeze Javier tightly before drawing back too.

“I think she’d like that,” Javier sighs with a little smile, taking in the picturesque view of his family.

A few more minutes pass and you gently remind your children of the time, “Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s say goodnight to Daddy and Abuela.”

They exchange hugs and kisses with their father, and then - while she is perched on your hip - you hold Inés near the altar. Both of your kids lay their palms on the table, talking gently.

“Goodnight, Abuela,” Inés says and pats the cloth.

“We love you,” Lucas adds tenderly.

They follow you upstairs to brush their teeth, wash up, and get into their pajamas. You finish bedtime routines with much more hugs and kisses, tucking the both of them in and thanking them for a nice day. Inés still has questions about her grandmother but you tell her that it’ll need to wait for tomorrow. When she seems restless, you trace your finger over her face until she dozes off.

When both kids are asleep, you return downstairs dressed in your own sleepwear. You find that Javier has cleaned the kitchen and is sitting on the couch in the living room. He glances at the ofrenda out of the corner of his eye, looking thoughtful and melancholic. You can see how much Inés resembles him in the evening light.

You silently go to sit down beside him, holding his hand between the two of you.

"Thank you for today," he says softly, leaned back into the sofa and his head turned towards you, "For helping the kids understand."

“You are so wonderful with them,” you reply with a gentle smile, "They love her because you love her, and because she's a part of who you are."

“Still, I couldn’t do this without you, mi vida (my life),” he stresses and inches closer, slowly removing the gap between the two of you. You lean in and rest your forehead against his, a sigh of relief escaping him at being so close to you, “You make everything better.”

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you close the remaining distance between you and your husband, kissing him lovingly in the glow of the altar and the moonlight shining in through the window.

Yet Javier seems to have more in mind when he reaches up to cradle your cheek with his large hand. He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, eager as he deepens the kiss. It earns him a chuckle from you as you draw back slightly.

“Not in front of your mother,” you whisper to tease playfully.

“She’d probably tell me to make sure I’m treating you right,” he laughs quietly, thumb still caressing your face, “Keeping you happy.”

“Then you are succeeding,” you tell him with sincerity, keeping all the playfulness he has ignited at bay to show love instead. He responds by getting up from his seat and pulling you by your hand, making you giggle girlishly as he brings you to blow out the candles for the night while whispering in your ear.

Then he leads you upstairs and makes love to you, slowly and passionately. It’s all long, slow kisses and quiet gasps as you arch your back when he touches you to orgasm. He knows you inside and out, what you need, and what you feel. You’d like to say that it’s the same the other way around, that you know him just as deeply.

In the afterglow, you rest your head on his chest and feel his hand caressing your hair. His heartbeat is slow, his breathing almost steady again. You look up at him and feel so much affection that your head swims. An idea pops into your head in the beautiful clarity that follows being with him like this, “Tomorrow we could go to the cemetery if you like. We could take your dad too and get him to bring some flowers from his garden.”

“I’d like that,” he replies, his fingers playing with and brushing your hair to the side absentmindedly, “Pop would appreciate that. It’s been a while since we all went together during Día de Muertos. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“That’s settled then,” you kiss his chest.

“Fuck, I love you, esposita (my little wife),” he says happily, absolutely in disbelief at your perfection.

“I love you too,” you respond with a shy grin.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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chelseeebe · 1 year ago

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still into you, part 2

eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?

sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!

18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!

read part 1 here.

‎♡‧₊˚

he’s late.

you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.

and now he’s fucking late.

late or not even coming.

it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.

steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?

but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.

eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.

you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.

eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”

“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.

“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.

“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.

“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.

you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.

you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.

he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.

your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”

eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.

“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.

when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.

he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.

your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.

holy shit, you were happy.

the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.

of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.

but he does.

each and every time.

eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.

“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.

you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”

that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.

you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.

“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.

how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.

“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.

“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”

you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.

“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.

“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.

“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.

“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”

you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.

your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.

“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.

you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.

it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.

of course steve says yes. useless prick.

“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.

“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”

he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.

“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”

it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.

why would they like you?

“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”

but you weren’t so sure.

so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.

you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.

there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.

eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.

everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.

holy shit.

“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.

“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.

“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”

you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.

eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.

when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.

his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.

nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.

the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.

“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.

“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.

“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.

“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.

“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.

your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”

his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”

“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.

“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.

skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.

his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.

“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.

“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”

your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.

eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.

his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.

his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.

“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.

you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.

eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.

“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.

he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.

your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.

“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.

“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.

his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.

pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.

your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.

your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.

his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.

a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.

you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.

“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.

eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.

“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.

you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.

“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.

body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.

“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.

he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.

“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.

“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.

eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.

there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.

you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.

nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.

it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.

fuck. you think. this is suffocating.

there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.

even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.

eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.

he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.

hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.

but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.

after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.

one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”

venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.

“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.

“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.

no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.

“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.

“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.

her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.

“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.

you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.

her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”

and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.

you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.

instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.

eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.

“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.

you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?

you don’t mean it. you love him.

“hmm?” not quite looking at you.

“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”

this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”

now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.

“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.

“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.

eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.

“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.

“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.

this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.

“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.

his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.

“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.

eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.

it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.

he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.

“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.

he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.

you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.

you want to go home.

and not eddie’s house.. home.

three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.

wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.

eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.

"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.

he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.

you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.

“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.

“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”

“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.

“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.

you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.

“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”

you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.

how could he not get it?

“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”

“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.

“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.

“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.

instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?

she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.

eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.

everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.

“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.

“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.

when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”

“eddie..”

and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”

his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.

and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.

the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.

there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.

and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.

but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.

five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.

your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.

hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.

the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.

emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.

fuck.

a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.

nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.

the only thing you want to do is tell steve.

he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.

as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.

“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.

“what?”

“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”

“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.

“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”

he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”

your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.

there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.

“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.

“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.

“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.

you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.

your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?

it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.

“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.

your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.

it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.

he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.

the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.

“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.

“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.

steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.

“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.

he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.

there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.

it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.

how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?

there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.

it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.

you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.

there’s none of that.

only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.

“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.

your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.

no.

you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.

“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.

“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.

deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.

that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.

“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.

you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.

you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.

“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.

he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.

“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.

his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.

you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.

“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.

your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.

“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.

your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.

“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”

you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.

eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.

his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.

your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things

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mikanotes · 1 year ago

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goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

#connor x reader #connor dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #dbh x reader #connor detroit become human x reader #x reader

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adhbabey · 2 years ago

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Let's talk about some lesser known symptoms of autism! Maybe this will help some of you get a broader perspective on what this can be like. There is a whole grab bag of symptoms of autism, but here are some ones you may not know that you have.

Focus on truth

What does this mean? Well glad you asked. This is the focus on facts and logic rather than anything else. People have shown this as autistic people may refusing to lie because it goes against what they find as true. But that's not always the case.

Have you ever used logic to try and figure out your emotions?

Are you someone who doesn't understand why others may speculate when the current knowledge is right there? (such as subtext versus canon knowledge or theoretical arguments)

Do you find it frustrating when others avoid their problems as a way to avoid figuring out negative things? (such as avoiding conflict in a friend group)

Is it easy for you to talk about your strengths and flaws? Do you know your likes, dislikes and limits pretty well?

High context communication

This is preference on details and the full context of any situation. Often going into great detail and backstory to anything.

Do you feel as though you need to overexplain to give the person everything they need to know?

Have you ever apologized to someone by explaining the deep and meaningful reasons of why you did it, before you said you were sorry? And maybe even felt upset or confused why they reacted badly?

Have you ever felt stressed out because you wanted to give others full detail but they either interrupted you or cut you off?

Are you stressed out by people who tell you what to do and not why they want you to do it?

Are you ever told that you talk back a lot?

Do you prefer recipes versus verbal/vague instructions? (All the things that you need such as ingredients, measurements, prep time, etc.)

Do you really like watching deep dives and knowing about the whole history of something you're even vaguely interested in?

Identity diffusion

This is not everyone's experience, and it is common in a variety of other disorders such as DID and BPD. However, it is when you do not know who you are in regards to others. This is also known as identity disturbance.

Have you ever felt like an outsider without knowing why?

Are you deeply interested on what other people think of you? Especially if it's all the time?

Do you really like taking personality tests and quizzes? Are you interested in horoscopes?

Do you feel like you don't fit in any one specific group? Either being a loner, or hopping in between many different groups?

Do you ever feel weirder than the "weird kids" group? Do you not really get along or feel like you belong with them?

Do you have low self esteem when it comes to comparing yourself to your friends? Do you feel like they're better or more capable than you?

Do you feel drastically unimportant and not as interesting or cool as everyone else?

Have you ever related to narratives surrounding a character that is the last of their kind?

Do you feel like your identity is a vast and gaping void, that even if you learn a little bit, that you'll never know everything?

Internalized repetition

This is one of those traits that not every autistic person experiences, but that some might. You could say that for all autistic traits, but hey, good to know regardless. Because of internalized repetition, you may not do many external stims, besides vocal.

Do you listen to a song over and over again? Perhaps having a playlist on repeat?

When stressed out, do you type the same word or phrase over and over again?

Do you like looking at the same things, such as the same color or the same artist's works?

Do you really like certain patterns, crystals or aesthetics?

Do you enjoy games with recognizable fighting patterns? (Such as character rotation, boss battle rotation, etc.)

Struggling to connect to others *

This is something that's been characterized by struggling to connect to others through their emotions, but the opposite is actually true for many autistic people. *I will be talking about those who struggle to connect to others who are emotionally distant or unavailable. Being emotionally distant or not showing emotions externally is a trait that many autistic people share, but for those without alexithymia, they may struggle to understand why anyone wouldn't like to talk about their emotions. I don't know the specific symptom term for this, so please bare with me. If anyone would like to inform me about what this is called, please tell me.

Do you struggle to talk with dry texters, or tend to over-examine people's tone through text?

Do you have anxious attachment?

Do you feel disconnected with many other autistic people and struggle to make friends or talk to them?

Do you feel embarrassment or shame with being emotionally sensitive?

Have you fallen down the rabbit hole of things like starseeds, star children or empaths?

Do you want to talk about serious emotions a lot, even when its not appropriate?

Do you trauma dump or wish people would become more emotionally intimate with you? Do you enjoy it when people share their deep traumas with you, even if it's triggering?

Are you constantly reassurance seeking?

There is plenty more symptoms out there, and these are just a few that stood out to me, because I think I may be autistic. I've always related somewhat, but never connected the dots. But there are reasons for that, such as identity diffusion and thinking I'm different from everyone else no matter what. I struggled because I didn't seem to have a lot of the outward and visible symptoms that were often talked about. I thought every autistic person had alexithymia, when that's just not true. My best friend, who has similar symptoms to me, along with another close friend of mine, have a similar presentation of autism. And it's taken quite a bit for me to accept or process. I feel like I'm faking my experiences just because I've self diagnosed before. And I'm angry that ADHD isn't given enough significance.

But I think I might be autistic, and this article that I based this post off of, confirmed it. So here's my post informing and coming out on that. You can be autistic and highly masking without actually knowing what's going on is masking. You can be autistic and have a spectrum of verbality, you can be autistic and struggle to connect to anyone who isn't immediately emotionally intimate with you. You can be autistic and not relate at all to other autistic people.

You're not alone.

#babey posts #actually autistic #audhd #autism #autism spectrum disorder #i know its a spectrum disorder but bro it doesn't feel like it #its broader than you might realize #you can be autistic and struggle to accept it #this has been the most frustrating and painful realization #i just. i feel a lot of negative feelings at myself about this #but i want to curate a place for people to exist without judgement #and before the anti self dx ppl come in here. this has never been the blog for you.#if youre like this. you belong here.#and if you just understand this. you also belong here.#you're not alone

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twilightau · 3 months ago

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should've been us,♡; L.MH;

about: 0.7k words ― angsty friends to strangers/ missed opportunity this one is from the long forgotten 2021 drafts!

photo: cr. 0_8_0_e

the little led screen announces another post by user onyourm_ark. a photo of mark and his girl 'best' friend hugging each other . You watch with bright smiles. 'late night pizza hunters!' the cheesy caption reads.

from a small distance, your sweet fizzy drink suddenly tastes too sweet as you swallow it down with the lump in your throat. the story your friend was telling you long forgotten as you stare at the couple across the street.

mark's hands linger a little longer on her arm, and you recognize the pattern all over again. his eyes. his smile. the glow. the love.

you still remember the 7th of april; the warmth was slowly embracing the world around you again as you giddily said on the bench in your favorite park. the phone call from a week ago still replaying in your mind like a little broken record.

you: hi markie, what's up?

mark: hi y/n...so...i got a question...are you busy or something?

yYou: hmm not really, just doing some laundry, but what's up?

mark: great. so. um...

you: yeah?

mark: w-would you like to go on a date with me next week?

you: next week?

mark: yeah, wednesday or something?

you: oh...yeah sure! sounds fun

your new sneakers were still fresh without a speck of dirt, while you wore your best blazer to impress your friend. a fluttering feeling in your chest as all your past feelings for him returned in full force at the revelation that they might be reciprocated. it was as if young y/n was finally achieving her dream, just a little older and less expecting than when she had first liked her best friend.

mark came running a shy 20 minutes after the agreed time, apologizing profusely as you waved him off, too much on cloud nine to care. the two of you walked towards a brunch place he recommended and sat down in silence.

that day you went out, as an attempt to let the friendship blossom into something more.

and that was all it was, an attempt. because mark lee had other ideas.

the conversation at the end of that day is still engraved in your memory, as you carry the regrets with you every single day.

"y/n, I need to tell you something," mark started, his fingers fidgeting as he rested his palms on the steering wheel, his eyes trained on the rearview mirror despite you sitting in the passenger seat. you hum in reply, giving him a gentle smile to encourage your best friend to continue.

"i actually liked you." he drops the bomb, your smile barely maintained as you take in the one word that stuck out like a sore thumb. liked?

you stay quiet, not knowing what words will make this situation any better, allowing him to continue. "i think i've liked you ever since we started talking like two summers ago, and yeah... kinda always wanted to ask you out." mark laughed as one of his hands caress the back of his neck, a nervous habit you knew he had. you still haven't said a thing, afraid to make a fool of yourself, because this conversation was going in a direction you didn't anticipate.

"that's pretty much why i asked you out today, to see if perhaps, i still like you." he elaborated after a beat of silence, you nodded.

"but i think we are better off as friends." mark lee said. he had crushed every possibility before they could even form.

"and that is fine, you didn't like me anyway, right?" he tried to lighten the mood, you gathered all your emotions and swallowed them down, turning to look Mark straight in the eye with you best fake smile, a fake smile even he couldn't decipher.

you laughed, "yeah, it's fine." and told your best friend your greatest lie.

the two of you drifted apart after that day, because it was not fine at all. and as much as you promised him you'd be the same for him, you couldn't.

you couldn't when you could have had him, yet something about you stopped him from liking you any further.

now you watch Mark rekindle his feelings, but this time, you were out of that picture.

and it was all because of those little confessions you were afraid to share.

#mark lee #nct angst #nct x reader #mark x reader #mark lee angst #nct dream #nct au #mark au

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reyesstrand · 4 months ago

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I wish you would write a fic where they remedy the 'he fell asleep during sexi-time' situation

(so. reading this back i’ve realized something possessed me and this is probably not what you were hoping for anon 😭 but once the idea got in my head i just ran with it. sorry!!)

“So, how are we doing today?”

It feels like a reprise of their first session. It’s raining, today, and the gentle tap tap tap of it against the windows feels like a comforting embrace. Not just for the serenity, but because things have been good, recently. The pit of hope that they can make it through anything has only bloomed inside him since they first saw Dr. Spencer, and it keeps him afloat as he leans to the side so he can keep holding Carlos’ hand.

The first few questions are geared toward Carlos, as Dr. Spencer—Helen, she keeps reminding them—asks him about his work; about any changes he might have made recently after previous revelations about grief and finding answers at the bottom of a case file. It still takes a few moments for Carlos to put his thoughts together, to be vulnerable, but he reflects on all that’s changed in the past two weeks as TK gets lost in staring at his husband.

He crosses one leg over the other and feels at peace, as he reminisces on this morning’s brunch at a new place uptown, where they ate on a colourful patio and shared chilaquiles while sipping on iced lattes. TK absentmindedly plays with his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger with his thumb, as he takes in the way Carlos looks younger, now that he’s here in this office out of uniform.

He still grapples with a weight too big to name, visible in the slight hunch of his shoulders and his need, today, for his glasses, but he looks beautiful just the same—curls not tamed by any gel, his arms bursting in his maroon t-shirt.

“You look like you agree, TK,” Helen says, snapping him from his reverie. Carlos had been talking about how there’s still work to do, but they’re good, again. More like how they used to be.

“I do,” TK nods, squeezing back when Carlos grips his fingers tight. “It started on the night of our anniversary, actually.”

“Tell me about it,” Helen encourages, pen poised above her notepad but her warm gaze focused on them both.

“We just…connected, again,” TK starts, gazing over at his husband to find Carlos already looking at him.

That night is something rich in vivid colour to him, a treasured keepsake that he cradles in the space between his ribs and his heart. He remembers his pulse jackrabbiting when Carlos looked imploringly at him; when Carlos spoke the words TK’s always believed to be true, that every moment they share is a gift.

TK also remembers the kiss. The moan he fed into his husband’s mouth when Carlos’ hand gripped the back of his neck and pivoted them so TK was pressed against the dining table; the shivers that traveled up his spine when Carlos’ knee pushed between his legs.

“You had a long day,” TK gasps, as Carlos bites down on the hinge of his jaw. “You’re sure you’re—”

“Baby, I’m sure,” Carlos tells him, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. He steps away, then, and walks toward their bedroom. With a crook of his finger, Carlos’ voice sounds wrecked as he half-pleads, half-commands, “Come here.”

TK can still feel the weight of his husband: on his body, against his thighs, on his tongue. TK looks at Carlos again, and feels a dimple carve into his cheek as he shrugs one shoulder and tells Helen: “He didn’t fall asleep on me this time.”

Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, but strokes his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “Never living that one down, huh, babe.”

TK grins, and wants to sit in the familiarity of their teasing longer, but something more prods at his brain.

“We aren’t—I don’t think we can be what we once were, exactly,” TK admits, looking now at the patterned carpet under their feet. “But we aren’t the same people we were before my mom died. We aren’t the same people we were before we lost our first place together. And I think this path we’re on…I think it’ll take time, but, we’ll be better. We always make it through.”

Carlos gives him a watery smile, and presses a kiss to the back of TK’s hand. “Always.”

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

#answered #tarlos #my fic #wish you would write fic

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tealvenetianmask · 7 months ago

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Loona understands Blitz better than anyone.

Blitz has a hard shell to crack. Actually, one of the things I love about Helluva Boss is how even though Blitz is a super loud, silly, obnoxious character, we gradually get to know the layers underneath that front and love him more each time one is lifted. I think the fact that we, as the audience, experience that shell, is one of the reasons why some viewers don't like him or get impatient with not knowing everything about what goes on in his mind.

Anyway, the other characters get to know different sides of him, but I think that Loona might be the best authority on the "many moods of Blitz." Let me explain.

Loona understands that Blitz has mental health issues. He gets upset and lashes out and then he bounces back. There's security in knowing that he's always going to bounce back.

The writers actually use Loona to teach us this about him early on. Loona's not . . . unbothered . . . by her fight with her dad in Spring Broken. But we learn that it's happened before, probably OFTEN, and that it's a pattern. He acts out emotionally- gets angry, irrational, out of control, and then he recovers and gets back to his fun, enthusiastic, determined self.

We get a very similar moment in Queen Bee.

We don't know what conversations they've actually had, but I think that Loona knows very little about the actual sources of Blitz's trauma. But she knows that he's seriously damaged, and at the same time, incredibly resilient.

Probably more importantly, Loona understands that Blitz cares deeply.

I bring out this Truth Seekers moment to point out that Loona knows that Blitz takes the I.M.P. gang's safety seriously and trusts him to make these difficult calls. Where Blitz might often SEEM careless or impulsive, Loona knows that, fundamentally, he's always looking out for his employees and can make reliable decisions for them in life or death situations.

Okay, Seeing Stars.

Look at this look of confusion when Blitz tells Loona that he "might" replace her.

So . . . obviously Loona is pissed off about getting criticism here, but she's shaken out of her rage and utterly baffled when it comes down to the possibility of actually getting fired. Because in their relationship, Blitz is solid. He offers stability in a world where Loona knew nothing of the sort before her adoption. She knows he would never fire her, throw her out, or anything of the sort. And Blitz usually sides with her over Moxxie. So what gives . . .?

Ultimately, once she reflects, Loona has no fear at all that Blitz will abandon her.

It doesn't get any clearer than this. While Loona gives Octavia advice, she's obviously reflecting on her relationship with Blitz and understanding that beyond all the mistakes and neuroses and fuck-ups and shouting matches, Blitz is truly there for her and that care is not going anywhere.

So . . . what will this mean going forward? I don't know, but my takeaway is this.

Blitz is someone who doesn't necessarily say how he truly feels (more often than not, he avoids it and might not even know himself). He shows how he feels through his actions more than his words. Loona acts fairly annoyed when Blitz makes a show of being affectionate toward her . . . the security Loona feels about Blitz depends on him SHOWING her again and again that his care for her is genuine.

Will she give other characters (M&M? Stolas?) some insights to help them understand Blitz better? It's possible. Or they could look more closely at his actions. Or he could learn to express himself properly . . . that would be a big development. But Loona has definitely helped the audience figure him out.

#helluva boss #my helluva meta #loona #helluva loona #helluva blitzo #blitz #blitzo #blitzo buckzo

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noxiatoxia · 3 months ago

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i love komaeda tidbits!!! his valley girl dialect adds so much ahhh... do you recall any particularly funny/notable instances of him speaking like that, or times where other characters comment on it?

I wouldn't go as far as to say it is a valley girl-type accent. 1, because that is just the closest approximate to English (obviously the exact same thing doesn't exist in Japanese) and 2, Komaeda does not use sa and ne nearly enough for it to be those levels...well, in my opinion. I'm sure other people could weigh in on what they think.

Either way he's still stumbling over his words a lot, and I do think that's very charming.

I guess you could make the argument that he does have a valley girl accent by proxy of the fact most other characters don't over-use filler particles as much...like I said in the post, people do it all the time in real life, but in media, characters rarely ever stutter or use filler words (unless it's, like, a super tense situation). So the casual usage, even if it is small, stands out. I guess in that way, you can argue Komaeda has a "noticeable" accent in that regard...but that's very much a topic up for debate.

I'm getting side-tricked, lol.

Anyways, while not related to ne or sa, there is another thing I love that's overlooked, and that's how he uses ってば (tte ba)!

Again, this is a very cute detail. It does not happen often, but I can recall 2 instances where he uses it.

Firstly, let me explain. tte ba in the case I'm talking about is a sentence ender used to express frustration, annoyance, urgency, etc. It can kind of sound like whining, but it's the verbal equivalent of stomping your foot.

What's fun is that this word is predominantly used by women. Men use it too of course, but overwhelmingly it just seems to be a word that girls use.

But Komaeda uses it too!

First instance is in the prologue, where he says it to Hanamura.

ちょっと！花村クンってば！

The English translation is perfectly fine. But to go more in depth, as you recall, earlier in the prologue Komaeda told Hanamura to stop pestering Sonia with sexual advances. Here, Hanamura does it again. So, naturally, Komaeda responds...

Come on, Hanamura-kun! I told you to quit it already!

The tte ba added at the end makes Komaeda sound like he's scolding Hanamura and is very exasperated.

Also, while the sentence literally is just "Hey, Hanamura-kun!" with an irritated edge, using prior context and knowing what tte ba means (kind of serving to be like "I already told you this!" sort of thing) we can make the sentence sound better in English.

Next is in chapter 2.

おーい、日向クンってばー！

This one is extra funny, because おーい (usually just おい, oi) is neutral-leaning-male, while as we've said, tte ba is neutral-leaning-female. That's what I love about Komaeda's dialogue: he mixes together "traditionally" male speech patterns and female speech patterns. While, again, not uncommon in real life, anime is so much different. Scripts and word choice are used to tell you about a character's personality. As such, you usually get characters who speak hyper-masculine or hyper-feminine or deliberately ambiguous. I'd say a character who speaks a clean mix of feminine and masculine is very rare. Although, to be more precise, Komaeda speaks masculine and neutral-leaning-feminine...if that makes sense (I will explain later).

Anyways, again, the English translation is good. Komaeda does sound pretty whiny in this scene.

Heeeey! C'mon, Hinata-kuuun!

Now, for the opposite. Something that gets overlooked is an interesting scene in 2.5.

The subtitles has Komaeda as saying "I've heard enough!" but I disagree with this. Komaeda says 黙れよ！in the dub. This is a very masculine turn of phrase because of the imperative nature of it - something Komaeda, to my knowledge, never uses. Very masculine characters do use it often - like Hinata or Oowada or Kuzuryuu - but not Komaeda.

2.5 is complex enough, but this adds a whole new layer to it...Komaeda has never spoke so roughly before. I think it shows just how emotional he truly was in this scene.

I'd translate this line as:

Just shut the fuck up!

And finally...while not canon per se, it is voiced by Megumi Ogata and is very in-character for Komaeda, so I count it. This cute little voice line she recorded for the Danganronpa x Crash Fever on Halloween. It let's me segue into something.

トリック・オア・トリート！お菓子をくれなきゃイタズラしちゃうぞ...なんてね。

Earlier I said Komaeda speaks masculine + neutral-leaning-feminine, and this probably sounds like gibberish to a lot of people because...what does that even mean?

(Keep in mind I'm speaking for the perspective of anime, where these grammar rules carry exaggerated connotations compared to real life! I am also speaking from the perspective of Tokyo dialect aka standard Japanese.)

Komaeda typically uses these particles: sa, ne, yo.

All of these particles are gender-neutral, but ne can be more feminine depending on the context. For example, Saonji uses ne constantly, and so does Mioda. But characters like Hinata and Souda still use ne because again it's context dependent.

There are feminine particles, such as wa, which Komaeda does not use. It is used by characters like Sonia and Celestia and even Kirigiri, which is surprising considering her stoic image (it's very cute).

Then, there's masculine particles, like zo, ze and na. Characters who use zo are Kuzuryuu, Souda, Hinata, and Owari to name a few. Despite Owari being female, she talks very masculine, which adds to her rough image. Ze is also used by all of those characters, as is na.

Komaeda's choice of pronoun is also mild-mannered. Boku is a polite masculine pronoun. It makes sense for him to use it when speaking casually which he is always seen doing. If he used Watashi - also gender neutral (to a point) - while speaking casually, it would make him seem feminine or like a girl.

However, the vast majority of male characters when speaking casually will use Ore, which is a hyper-masculine pronoun. I have lost count of the amount of characters who use this. Only characters I can remember who use Boku (besides Komaeda and Naegi) are Yamada, Hanamura, and Ishimaru.

And for those three, I think it makes sense - they all have this level of acting polite/wanting to be polite or seen as proper.

Which is why the fact Komaeda/Naegi uses it stands out a little bit with the rest of the cast. Makes them appear more mild. opting to use gender-neutral particles only and a mild-mannered male pronoun for your male character tells you a lot about them, especially when almost every other guy in the same series is talking super masculine.

Okay, back to that video. What's cute about it is how Komaeda switches from talking masculine to feminine on purpose.

Trick or Treat! If you don't gimmie some candy...I'mma pull a trick on ya! ...Joking!

I'm unsure how to word this in a way that sounds "masculine" or "feminine" as that doesn't really exist in English I don't think...but the first half of his sentence, Komaeda uses zo at the end to sound threatening/rough, then the last part, nante-ne, sounds feminine when pitched up at the end there. It definitely makes him sound playful.

I also want to point out...though I use masculine/feminine (as what I've talked about are usually employed by men, hence masculine, or women, hence feminine) it is not a matter of being absolute...for example, dresses are seen as being feminine, but that does not mean a man can't wear a dress and still be a man.

Wow, this post got long...I sure do talk. I hope this answers something at least haha. Thank you for the ask!

#;noxiatalks2ya #;translationtalk #nagito komaeda #dr #danganronpa #sdr2

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cameronspecial · 2 years ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/cameronspecial/730937552404627456/let-me-protect-you-angel

can you tell use more about rafe’s rules for the reader, pls and thank you lol 👀

— @cantstoptheimagines

Let Me Save You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Uncomfortable Because of A Pervy Misogynist

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This is a continuation of Let Me Protect You, Angel.

Masterlist

Some of Y/N’s favourite rules for being Rafe’s girlfriend are the ones that show her that he cares. She didn’t need to look at the napkin anymore to remember which rule was which number because she had them all memorized since they wrote them down on that napkin during their first date. Numbers Five and Six often happen in tandem and show Rafe’s caring side. She hasn’t seen Rafe in almost five days, which is quite obvious to the whole campus as Rafe always gets more on edge when he doesn’t see her. However, she finally gets to see him again and follows Rule Number Six. The door to Rafe’s room has a code, which beeps its little song as she punches in her birthday.

Her thoughts are focused on taking her stuff out of her backpack, so she is genuinely surprised by Rafe’s arms wrapping around her waist. “I’m so glad you could come over tonight, Angel. I was scared we were going to break our streak,” he declares, pressing his nose against the skin of her neck. She brings her hands up to wrap them around his neck and looks up at him, “It would be a shame. I’ve slept over at least once a week since we started dating. That’s a hundred and four-week streak.” Rule Number Six: Sleepover in Rafe’s room once per week whenever possible.

He moves them over to lie down on his bed with his head resting on her breasts. She can feel his soft breath on her skin as he talks. “Rule Number Five, Angel.” She draws patterns on his back, letting out a big sigh, “It was stressful. I had a lab and I couldn’t find my notebook with all my notes for this week’s experiment. And then I got caught up in the cafeteria line at lunch so I was late for my meeting with my academic advisor. This whole week has been so busy.” She feels his fingers start to trace tiny hearts on her bicep. “I’m sorry things have been so hard and I couldn’t be there for you, Angel. I hate that I had to go away for my football game,” he grumbles. The fact that his mouth is pressed against her skin turns his words into raspberries and it makes them both laugh.

“It’s okay, I’ve been pretty busy, so I probably wouldn’t have been able to come over anyway. How was your day, Rafe?”

“It was okay. Same as always. The only eventful thing that happened was that Topper accidentally wore my underwear. That was weird. But it got so much better when you walked through the door though, Angel.”

“My day got better when I walked through the door too.”

He lifts his head and gives her a sweet kiss on the lips. Rule Number Five: Always tell each other how your day went, no lying. Even if it has to be over the phone, through a text, in an email or in a written letter.

——

Y/N remembers how ridiculous she thought Rule Number One was when Rafe wrote it down on the napkin. “Come on, that’s never going to happen,” she proclaimed, tilting her head upright after reading the words. Rafe shook his head, underlining a specific word of the rule, “You don’t know that. And, god forbid if it does, then I want you to let me save you, Angel.” She could see he was serious and concerned about the possibility of something happening, so all she could give him was a nod as a promise.

Right now, she could not be more glad that her boyfriend is always thinking ahead on how to protect her. She didn’t know how she got into this situation. One minute, she was by herself in the lab looking over the work she did for this week's experiment and the next, Terrick was in the room with her. He has every right to be in the room; he is also in her class and pays for tuition. However, she always feels a little unsettled by him. The way he looks at her makes it obvious he is objectifying her. The way he speaks makes it clear that he was not taught to respect women. The way he stands too close to her makes her stomach drop. She wants to walk out of the lab right now so she isn’t alone with him, but he is blocking the doorway. “And the bitch got my name wrong too. Like sure, get my order and my name wrong,” he starts ranting. “I don’t understand how a girl can screw up my drink order. Aren’t you guys made to do that type of stuff?”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say. His frustration at something so trivial causes fear to flash through her and she is scared of what might happen if she tries to leave the room. Thankfully, as if Rafe had spider senses, she gets a call from him. She gently lifts a finger up to tell Terrick to give her a second, “Hi, Rafe. What’s wrong?” “Nothing, I was just wondering what you wanted me to bring over tonight. I’m at the store, right now,” Rafe asks, placing his pre-workout into his cart while his phone is wedged between his shoulder and ear. Y/N flashes Terrick a tight-lipped smile as he impatiently waits for her to get off the phone, “I’m actually craving some pie. Could you get me a coconut pie?” Rafe immediately stops what he is doing and moves his phone to his other ear. “Are you sure you want coconut?” he presses, already returning the stuff he was going to get onto the shelf.

“Yes.”

——

They stayed on the phone for the whole time it took Rafe to get back on campus, pretending that he needed a detailed account of every single item Y/N needed from the store. When he walks through the door, Y/N feels her heart rate start to slow down. “What are you doing here?” Terrick snides through his teeth, looking at her boyfriend in annoyance. Rafe immediately puts himself between Y/N and the other man, “I realized that I am so clueless that I need Y/N to come to the store with me, so I came to pick her up. Are you ready to go, Angel?” The last part is obviously directed toward her and she is quick to get her backpack so she can weasel her way under Rafe’s protective arm. “Yep. Bye, Terrick. Great talk.”

The couple makes their exit in each other’s hold with Rafe keeping an eye on Terrick. Once they are out of his earshot, Y/N lets out a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?” Rafe worries, looking her over for any indications that Terrick touched her. She gives a small nod, “Yeah, he didn’t hurt me. I don’t think he was going to. I’m sorry I used the code word, I probably shouldn’t have if I didn’t think he was going to do anything.” He stops their journey towards the exit and swings himself so he is facing her. His hands find weight on her shoulders and he lifts her chin up to look him in the eyes. “I don’t care if you use the code word for me to come kill a spider. If you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable or scared, you tell me coconut pie and you let me save you, Angel. Do you understand?” he brings her into a hug and kisses her temple. “You have to trust your instinct. Your safety is my number one priority.”

Rule Number One: Say coconut pie if she needs Rafe to save her.

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vergiltopia · 1 year ago

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Some of my Vergil headcanons

just random headcanons about anything <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

★ Vergil likes to leave gifts on places he knows you could easily find, like over the table, over your bed, in front of your door. He'll always do it before he's gone for a mission, and when he's back, will casually ask while you're talking to each other, “did you like the roses?”

★ Physical touch to him is something very intimate, no hugs or something like this unless you're close to him, he watches over his personal space.

★ Still talking about physical touch, there's nothing more intimate than holding someone's hand, this means how comfortable and close you're and how much you trust this person to let your guard down to relax and hold hands. Touching hands it's like a bridge to connect yourself with someone else. Also, this means he would love to caress the back of your hand, trace the patterns of your palm, kiss it...

★ Eye contact is also very important to him, it's noticeable how hard is for Vergil to keep eye contact on casual situations, even though he's trying his best. So when those crystal clear blue eyes are locked on yours, he won't take them away unless someone else appears, eye contact is powerful and can talk more than words.

★ He loves to do cleaning, taking off his coat to wear an apron instead.

★ When hugging, he'll place one arm around your waist while his free hand gently press your head to his chest, peting your hair.

★ Secretly sings his favorite songs when no one is around.

★ Organize his books by alphabetical order.

★ Definitely would use those silk pajamas sets with buttons.

★ About Vergil's phone: the brightness will always be too high or too low, the speakers are probably low cause he was watching cute and funny cat compilations on the van and he didn't want to bother, definitely there's a lot of accidental selfies he took by opening the camera and the ringtone is LOUD, really loud (he doesn't know how to change it properly and is ashamed to ask Dante or Nero since they'll probably make fun of him).

Plus: use a lot the thumbs up emoji after someone complained he only views the messages and doesn't say anything, so he started to use the thumbs up as a reaction.

★ He likes to make his tea the old way, doesn't like tea bags.

★ Call anything technological a "device" since those things are new to him and he's learning the names and how they work. “Nero, come here, my device is broken again.”

★ The only time you would see Vergil with his hair down is when it's wet or if he's too tired to groom it (like, can't even keep his eyes open), if not, he'll always groom his hair to make it look the way it is, he's a man of routine (and also it makes him look different from his twin, so that's why he isn't going on public with his hair down).

★ He loves classical music, but that doesn't mean he isn't open to discover new genres and tunes.

★ Vergil used to make dog ears on the pages of his books when he was a kid to continue reading it later, but he noticed it crumples the paper so stopped doing it.

★ He is extremely warm because of his demon nature, just like an walking oven baking cookies, that's why cats are always attracted by him, there's often cat fur on his coat, probably Vergil faced a kitten on the streets and it started to butt the head on his legs to feel his warmth.

★ Always have a pleasant smell, unless when he's back from a mission, that's why he takes so long in the bath.

★ Loves citrus fruits.

★ Vergil takes a lot of pictures of the sky and nature, he treasures them and shows to the ones he treasures the same way.

★ Won't tell anybody if he got hurt during a mission, waiting for it to heal by itself (this also happens if he get sick).

★ Heard Dante listening to dad rock once, after that he tried to listen to a couple of songs too and started to like it.

★ Knows a bit of Latin from old books he read once.

★ Vergil is passionate and enthusiastic about the things he likes, he can spend hours talking about it with that glimmer he has on his eyes when happy.

★ The same way he likes someone to listen about his interests, also likes to be the one who listens to it from others, he's a very good listener.

★ One of his hobbies is writing his own poems on yellowed rag paper with a feather pen (things he like to buy with his money), he keeps them hide inside a little box.

#vergil #vergil devil may cry #devil may cry #headcanon #vergil sparda

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purpleheartskies · 6 months ago

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About the framing and marketing of the traumas in Robby's story including the SA

TW/SA

This situation with the SA in Robby's story feels like post-s5 all over again. Robby experienced something(s) traumatic, but the audience is not supposed to consider it traumatic for Robby because of the framing and marketing, and many fans go along with it---though in this case, many fans are opposed to ignoring the SA.

Hayden's comment about the SA seems to indicate that the writers don't see the SA for what it is and won't address it in part 3. However, Jon (privately) 1000% agreed with a fan that consent can't be given while drunk, that he was very upset with Hayden's tweet, and that he himself wouldn't have answered that question in that way. Hayden is a known troll, and given how he has always approached answering questions, his comment may have been a tone-deaf statement that pushed the narrative framing. For example, Hayden had also responded to someone in that q&a that Miguel always sees the best in people. This is not true, looking at the context throughout the story. Miguel definitely thinks the worst of Robby and acts on it whenever Miguel feels like it. These and other points I will talk about in this post make me wonder if the SA may still possibly be addressed in some way as SA.

Although there are definitely flaws in the writing, such as in the pacing, I don't think the skills of the writers can be completely ignored. Their character and relationship writing in particular are quite good (as in consistent and realistic) compared to a lot that I've seen across a variety of stories. I also think that, while many view SA as an egregious trauma that sets it apart from other traumas (hence the more resonant backlash about it), these writers are treating the SA as just another trauma in Robby's story. After all, they've handled Robby's other traumas with a similar writing, execution, framing, and marketing approach. For example, the same day that Netflix posted the ig reel marketing the SA as "Can Tory catch a break?", which matches the narrative framing, Variety put out that interview of Billy glorifying Johnny's relationship with Miguel and claiming that Johnny "needed the boy [Miguel] who needed him", which also matches the narrative framing. As I pointed out in another post, the framing and marketing of both situations treat Robby as inconsequential, although both are extremely traumatic for him.

The storytelling style in the show is very interesting. There's a lot the consistency and patterns throughout the story, especially when it comes to the characters behaviors. For example, my pre-s6 analyses of Miguel's envy of Robby being Johnny's son, Johnny using Miguel to feel better about himself for screwing up with Robby, and the blended "family" not being written genuinely (especially Robby's inclusion in it) are inline with what was depicted once more in s6e8. In fact, the occurrence of Robby experiencing a trauma (the SA) while Johnny was off tending to the Diazs is in line with the consistency of how the writers approach Johnny and Robby's story: Johnny's relationship with the Diazs is narratively in opposition to Johnny's relationship with Robby. It is an either/or situation; it always has been.

In this case, Robby was left out of the family situation and was, overall, feeling so unsupported (because he is, despite Johnny's words to Miguel) that his abandonment/rejection trauma and low self-worth were at their peaks, with him believing that Tory had abandoned and replaced him too, so he drank for the first time. In fact, the writers reminded us through Sam that Robby doesn't drink. They wanted us to be clear on the fact that he was drinking for the first time, and the rum and coke doubles he was downing would impair him. Robby telling Sam about his intention to drink seemed to be his counterdependence peaking through: he had wanted her to stop him. (In fairness to Sam, no character has understood Robby's counterdependent tendencies. Though, it would have been good of her, as a friend, to stick around after he told her that he was thinking of drinking. I'm not blaming Sam, though, for Robby's decision to drink. It was Robby's decision to do so. I may do a proper s6 part 2 Robby analysis soon.) It's within the context of Robby getting drunk for the first time and being alone and vulnerable that Zara took advantage of him. This was all juxtaposed with Miguel showing his envy once again about Robby being Johnny's son and Johnny once again committing himself to Miguel in comparison to Robby. In the hospital scenes, Robby's absence was felt including Carmen speaking about the baby having her big "brother" win, as if she has only one brother competing in the tournament.

Looking at how the writers have written scenes throughout the story, the SA is written as what it is: SA.

First off, there's no narrative "show" of Robby consenting or intentionally getting together with Zara. They don't show him noticing her, getting friendly with her, or drinking with her. They're only shown to have two interactions: (1) the conversation outside of her hotel room the next morning, and (2) during the brawl. In both these interactions, Zara acted entitled to Robby, his body and him, while Robby showed no interest in her whatsoever. Wrt to the SA itself, Robby was clearly shown to be getting drunk and losing his faculties (he couldn't focus enough to talk back to Kwon) before Zara even approached him. The next morning, his hungover state and his statement that he can barely remember anything also prove that he hadn't been in any condition to consent. He was barely responsive when she kissed, and he looked disturbed/shell-shocked as he walked away. In turn, she was shown watching and approaching him at the bar with intent. The next morning, her bold response "Well, good thing I do" to him saying that he barely remembers, her indifference about his unwell state, and her stealing a kiss from him as if she's entitled to show that she was sober and didn't care if he could consent or not. She had been interested in him, and she'd taken from him what she'd wanted.

The framing and marketing that we should feel sorry for Tory wrt this doesn't match the nuance of what is shown, only the framing of it. Tory seeing them is written as a coincidence. The framing that Robby had cheated and made a "mistake" is set up by Robby's words: "Tory broke up with me. She hooked up with Kwon. I got drunk and I did something stupid". Some fans claim that Robby "cheated" to get revenge, but there is no narrative proof of this. Robby didn't try to throw it in Tory's face and was shocked that she'd found out. Then, his defensive argument with Tory---that she was upset that he'd gotten with someone even though she'd gotten with Kwon---added to the framing. However, Robby is already established as a character with exaggerated self-blame, who blames himself for his traumas when he isn't at fault at all or isn't 100% at fault. In this case, he can barely remember what happened. He knows that he got drunk because he was upset, thinking that Tory had hooked up with Kwon. But, he essentially doesn't know the details of the "mistake" that he is blaming himself for. He was also already blaming himself when he and Tory got into their argument about it, so he was defensive about it.

Overall, the whole situation had contexts of Robby's underlying traumas. He drank for the first time to deal with his abandonment/rejection trauma and low self-worth. He took this step, despite his goal not to become like Johnny. This is also likely a type of situation that his mother may have experienced in the past, given what had been shown about her in earlier seasons. He blamed himself for it, although he essentially doesn't even know details about what he's blaming himself for. He just believes it's his fault. Robby being SA'd the first time he drank and got drunk seems to be a dark irony in light of all this.

Another thing that stuck out is that Tory cut Robby off when he tried to explain what had happened with Zara. This was after Cobra Kai had lost, and Robby had approached Tory in the hotel lobby. Robby not being able to tell his side of the story or details of his side of the story being obscured is pretty consistent with his story so far. When it comes to the school fight, for example, Miguel's wrongdoings against Robby have been obscured, and only Robby's wrongdoing in it have been explored and addressed. In s3e2, Robby clearly told Daniel that he had kicked Miguel (which is a true statement), while he also told Daniel that it was a mistake trying to help him because he can't change (which is his exaggerated self-blame; it had been an accident and there is so much context to consider for that fight). This is similar to "I got drunk" (true statement) and "I did something stupid" (exaggerated self-blame; he couldn't consent and barely even knows what happened).

In s3e2, Robby wasn't able to say more to Daniel because the cops had shown up. Robby stopped trusting Daniel, was put into juvie, and their relationship dissolved. Robby also stopped talking about his side of the story. Even when Kreese (s3e5) and Tory (s3e8) showed him empathy about it, Robby didn't respond. He finally talked about it in s4e4 when he tried to defend himself to Johnny, but Johnny dismissed what he said. Then, in s5e5, after the abusive apartment fight, he explained to Miguel what had happened at the end of the school fight, in response to Miguel gaslighting him about the school fight. Miguel's question implied that Robby had had no reason to not hold back that day in school, which shows how entitled and lacking in empathy and self-awareness Miguel is as the person who had attacked Robby brutally that day. (Robby having a "fight" response at the end of the fight was quite natural, given the circumstances.)

Robby has been scapegoated for their school fight and is still being scapegoated for it, as depicted in the college essay scene in s6e2. The SA being written how it was---as SA---and Robby being scapegoated for it is in line with how he has been scapegoated narratively before. Again, I think people view SA on a different level than these other traumas and situations, but it is a type of trauma and it is being treated as his other traumas have been treated. The SA was also perpetrated by a new character, who isn't endeared to fans in general, so she is being more rightfully called out and given less of a benefit of a doubt. Those who defend her or make gross comments about the SA mainly do so because she's a young, hot female.

Wrt the SA, a question remains about how and if Zara would have flaunted it in Tory's face had Tory not seen them. Zara also later taunted Tory about it on Zara's livestream because Tory was standing nearby. (Maybe Zara saw Tory alone and purposely went and stood close by. We don't know.) By this point, Zara is depicted as an opportunist. She had taken advantage of Robby while he was drunk, alone and vulnerable, and she was taking shots at Tory whenever the opportunity arose. Zara SA'd Robby because she'd wanted him. Tory coincidentally finding out had been a bonus for Zara, which she used to piss off Tory more.

In fact, Zara isn't depicted to have any positive personality traits at all. She started a rivalry with Tory because she saw Robby and immediately became interested in him, but noticed that Robby and Tory have something and didn't like that. She got in Tory's face after she noticed people talking about Tory, instead of her, as a badass fighter. Then, she threw having been with Robby in Tory's face because Tory coincidentally saw her kissing Robby. Then, just to piss Tory off, she purposely commented on her livestream that she plays hard all night. Tory snatched her phone and told Zara's followers that Zara doesn't care about her karate sisters and steals their boyfriends. She started losing sponsors so that pissed her off at Tory more. During the brawl, when Tory tried to get to Robby, Zara stopped Tory, said that she's hers, and started beating on her. After Robby threw her off of Tory, she was shocked that he'd choose Tory over her. She then attacked Robby. (This Zara-Tory rivalry is pretty one-sided and doesn't parallel the Tory-Sam rivalry which was already two-sided before Miguel became an issue between them.)

Zara is depicted as vain, egocentric, envious, entitled, lacking in accountability, violent, and opportunistic. She preys on and assaults guys without a care and flaunts having been with them, and she actually thought that that one night and whatever she did to Robby would make him choose her over Tory, who she knows Robby has a history with. She didn't treat Robby as a person at all, but as something that she is entitled to.

As I mentioned, this isn't the first time that Robby has been subjected to an abuse/assault/trauma that has been obscured with framing and marketing. Robby's story is actually quite dark if the framing and marketing around it is removed. I actually feel that the writers were trying to top the abuses from s5 with the SA, as in what other trauma could they give Robby. As the series has gone on, Robby has experienced the most traumas out of all the kids, almost all of which are not his fault at all or not completely his fault, and are still unaddressed. (Out of all the kids, Robby is also the only one to have gone to juvie, although some of the others should have gone too.) Just like I mentioned above, Robby blames himself for almost all of these traumas, regardless of how much fault he bears... as many trauma victims would. Wrt the SA, Robby is 1000% not at fault for what Zara did to him.

Looking back to s5, consider the Mexico trip in s5e1/2. Johnny subjected Robby to emotional and psychological abuse while Johnny did what he could to find Miguel and told Carmen to stay safely at home. Robby ended up staying to help Johnny after Johnny tried to abandon him again. Now, one could claim that Robby wanted to stay. After all, Robby told Johnny, after saving him, that Johnny's trying to fix things and Robby wants to help. But, as I pointed out after s5, this is a people-pleasing statement. Robby was putting Johnny's needs above his own. Johnny had tried to abandon Robby again after kidnapping him to Mexico under the guise of a father-son trip. Johnny had also psychologically and emotionally manipulated Robby with gaslighting and guilting. Robby also repeated what Johnny had said earlier, that they could make stories together, another emotional manipulation. Robby changed himself to stay with Johnny. Robby even did a chili eating contest to fix one of Johnny's screw ups. And of course that whole trip ended with a big heartfelt "father-son" hug between Johnny and Miguel as Robby watched from the background, a blatant callback to the s1e5 scene that was a trauma trigger for Robby. This time Robby had to swallow his trauma given the situation he was in. The trauma and abuse Robby suffered on this trip was framed and marketed as Johnny needing to find the boy who needed him (Miguel), Robby wanting to stay and help Johnny, and the two of them making stories together. This trauma and abuse are still unaddressed.

There is a follow up though, that shows that Robby wasn't okay with the trip. His conversation with Tory in s5e4 showed that he didn't enjoy the trip and he clearly stated that he and Johnny still have some issues that are too big to solve (Robby looked at Miguel when Robby said this). Those issues have not been solved, but have been tucked away because of the news that came later. In s5e3, Johnny told the opposite to Carmen that he and Robby are good now. s5e4 is the last time that Robby spoke about his issues with Johnny. There have also been NO proper one-on-one scenes or interactions between Johnny and Robby since the Mexico trip. Although many love Johnny and Robby's "father-son bonding" on the trip, the context of that trip shouldn't be ignored (but it is by many). The Mexico trip was never used to establish a foundation for them to start (re)building a relationship. In fact, the trip added to the continued narrative thread of Johnny's relationship with the Diazs being in opposition to his relationship with Robby, while Robby experienced more trauma. The trip also set up Robby completely adopting people-pleasing after he would later hear the baby news.

Now, take the apartment fight and baby news in s5e5. Robby had made his boundaries clear to Johnny. Robby didn't want to be Miguel's friend. Robby was also willing to be okay with Johnny's relationship with Miguel. But, Johnny cornered Robby with Miguel and with the psychologically and physically abusive, "Johnny classic"/Cobra Kai solution to "fight it out". Robby noticeably didn't want to fight and hesitated before and after saying yes to the fight, which he only said yes to to posture after Miguel said yes to the fight. Robby, especially, started out fighting hesitantly. Johnny egged them on, and it was after Miguel drew blood that Robby stopped hesitating.

As they fought, the boys ended up on the second floor balcony. Miguel gained the upper hand, and Robby stopped fighting back. Robby looked on in fear but Miguel suddenly stopped fighting, which is stated in the script as "showing mercy"---a callback to how their school fight had ended. The end moments of this fight were juxtaposed with flashbacks of Miguel's side of the school fight, a "tell" that framed Robby as the bad guy/aggressor in that fight. Robby then asked Miguel why he held back, and Miguel gaslit him about not learning karate to hurt people but to be badass and learn balance. This is not completely true. Miguel had just said yes to this fight so that he could hurt Robby with his karate, as Miguel has done a few times before. Also, Cobra Kai, which Miguel had learned first, doesn't teach finding balance. After this statement, Miguel asked Robby why he didn't hold back in school. As I described earlier, this is another gaslighting statement. As Robby explained his actions at the end of the school fight, Robby acknowledged that that was the worst moment of both of their lives. Both of them had also just relived the trauma of the school fight with this apartment fight. Johnny asked if they were good now, and Robby hesitated but then nodded yes. For both fights, Miguel got resolutions completely in his favor and is no longer dealing with repercussions from the fights, while Robby got no resolutions on his side and is still dealing with repercussions. This apartment fight was marketed as a "therapy session" for both boys and the video for it showcased the younger cast minus Tanner (who was filming a movie at the time) watching the middle to end of the fight, the latter of which frames the narrative in Miguel's favor using flashbacks as "tell". Again, Robby's side of the school and apartment fights and his lack of resolutions were obscured in the framing and the marketing.

This abusive and traumatic experience for Robby also ended with tonal shifts, like the SA scene does. Johnny let slip about the baby news. As Johnny and Miguel became excited over it, Robby is visibly shown to be processing the news and only acted overly excited after Johnny pointed to Miguel and said to act that excited. Suddenly, Robby exclaimed that that is awesome, and they all hugged and all was good between them, with a guitar riff score playing. The SA scene also ended with tonal shifts. As the elevator opened, the ominous music that had been playing intensified, shifting the focus of the scene from Robby to Tory. The scene visually focused on Robby as he walked away. Then, Zara spotted Tory, the music shifted once more. This time from ominous to upbeat/playful, and Zara blew Tory a kiss. In both cases, the scenes became about the other characters' feelings and dynamic, while Robby's traumatic experience in both these situations was visually shown, it was dismissed and later framed as him being in the wrong. In s5e8, Robby talked to Kenny about the rivalry as if Robby's hate had been the problem, and once he let that go, all was good. This of course is not true, as Miguel clearly is the one who had started and maintains the rivalry with Robby as Miguel feels entitled to. This is shown again in part 2, with Miguel acting like a jealous ass to Robby until Johnny promised to give Miguel preferential treatment again, compared to Robby. Miguel later gave Robby the pep talk to help them win. In s6e9, Robby took the same approach of putting the blame of what Zara did to him onto himself, despite barely remembering what had happened and Zara clearly remembering. Zara however is the one who is clearly at fault for whatever she did to him. She acted entitled to him and took advantage of him. Her expectation that he choose her over Tory after that night also shows her entitlement.

In s5e5, at dinner after the apartment fight, Robby was now miraculously happy with both Johnny and Miguel. After Carmen came home, Robby kindly asked if he could stay for dinner. After she paused and said yes, Robby cautiously watched her as she walked away. Robby's place in the family is clearly unstable, and this is still indicated in s6, including in s6e8. When Carmen asked about the boys' bruises, Johnny told her that the boys beat each other into submission. This is not true. Miguel had beaten Robby into submission. Johnny's claim is meant to frame the resolution as fair for both boys, just like the marketing attempts to, but this doesn't match what was shown in the actual fight and resolution. s5e5 also added to the continued narrative thread of Johnny's relationship with the Diazs being in opposition to his relationship with Robby, while Robby experienced more trauma.

Robby's story has gotten darker as the story has gone on, though the context and tone of his story remain obscured using framing and marketing that minimizes/removes how dark and traumatic these experiences are for Robby. At the same time, Robby still lacks a stable support system and his mental health is shown to be worsening. After s5, many claimed that Robby had found balance. So far, s6 is showing that Robby never found balance. In fact, his mental health has gotten so bad that he eventually chose to drink to cope with his poor mental health, just like Johnny does, although Robby's goal is to not become like Johnny.

The SA narratively fits as another traumatic experience that Robby has had and that he blames himself for. The SA is framed and marketed as something that only affects Tory. The narrative thread of Johnny's relationship with the Diazs being in opposition to his relationship with Robby, while Robby experiences another trauma also continued. The SA has been dealt with in the narrative and in the marketing the same way as Robby's other traumatic experiences have been. Throughout the story, the writers have been "telling" the audience to ignore all of the abuse and trauma Robby has been "shown" to experience. The SA isn't a unique circumstance. I've said before that this story is full of irony:

"Irony introduces depth, nuance, and multi-layered meaning. Its ability to present contradictions and incongruities between appearance and reality, or between expectation and actuality, demands critical thinking from the audience to uncover the intended deeper significance. Rather than passive acceptance of face value, irony prompts an analysis of context and subtext — engaging viewers or readers in a richer interpretive experience."

If the SA were the only trauma dealt with in this way, I wouldn't be writing this post. But Robby's other traumas have also been dealt with this way. We have been "shown" what Robby has experienced throughout the story, but the "tell" obscures so much of it, and he and the other characters have yet to understand what he's experienced and how it all affects him.

Since part 2 came out, it's been good to see that people have been calling out the SA by calling out the nuances of the scenes involved---body language, dialogue, and context. I've also seen people say that they recognize Robby blaming himself for it as a trauma victim would, and as Robby specifically would. After s5, it was so hard to talk about Robby's abusive/traumatic experiences during the Mexico trip, apartment fight, baby news and the family dinner scenes. People would dismiss all these storytelling nuances that were clearly portrayed as Johnny used and abused Robby to find Miguel and later abused Robby to force his submission into Johnny's new family. Johnny forcing Robby to be friends/family with these people, especially in such a violent way, is a violation of Robby's boundaries. Zara SAing Robby is also a violation of his boundaries. The storytelling nuances have also always been present and ignored by many the whole time as Johnny and Miguel's relationship has been built at Robby's expense, with the persistent layers of Johnny using Miguel to feel better about himself and Miguel feeling entitled to Johnny over Robby and being jealous that Robby is Johnny's son. These nuances and layers are still there in s6, and especially in s6e8.

After part 2 came out and especially after Hayden's comment, many said that they needed female writers because of how the SA has been handled. But, two women wrote s6e8 and a woman directed it. In fact, the woman who directed it also directed s5e5, which had the apartment fight, baby news, and dinner scenes. That episode has so much nuance that people choose to ignore. I still remember how some people would openly dismiss Robby's body language in those s5e5 scenes that I've described above. I also remember a lot of people claimed after s5 that the writers didn't remember Robby's traumas and mental health issues anymore. Now I'm seeing some of those same people talk about Robby's mental health being the reason he drank.

Despite many going along with the framing and marketing of Robby's other traumas, it's a relief overall to see that many still hold the view that this is SA and haven't been swayed to believe otherwise. (Although, I have seen that some have shrugged their shoulders and have adopted the view that Robby "cheated" or had "casual sex", which is not supported narratively with "show" but is framed and marketed as such using "tell".)

I really hope that people keep the conversations going in the fandom about the SA, as well as about Robby's other traumas and all of the nuances in his story.

#cobra kai is robby's story #robby keene #cobra kai

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dat-town · 2 months ago

Text

love for rent

Characters: tpop idol!Ten & fashion designer!female reader

Setting & genre: fake dating au, rich elite au, idol au

Summary: It was a fake relationship for a reason, so why does it hurt so much? Why does it hurt like it was real?

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mild swearing, implied sexual content

Words: 11.1k

Author’s note: in this au Ten’s character has never trained in Korea and became a solo singer in Thailand instead. listen to Obsession, Lie With You and Enough For Me for the vibes. happy Ten comeback season!

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be fake. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

Tipsy from the pity wine you allowed yourself and chest hollow from heartache more real than it should have been, you wondered where it went wrong. Was it when you naively thought you could stay immune to his charms and come out unscratched? Was it when you let yourself be swept up in that dizzying world of his? Or was it when you inevitably fell into his bed? When did you lose control over the situation? When did the lines start to blur?

Maybe it started off wrong from the very beginning. From the very first time you locked eyes with the nation’s resident heartthrob Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul sitting in your office like he owned the place.

“I didn’t know the CEO was so… young,” he said casually but there was something akin to amusement in his tone, something borderline flirty that you chose to ignore just as you made no comment on how his flower patterned dress shirt was one too many buttons undone away from being called decent.

“My age has nothing to do with my competence,” you pointed out firmly, keeping the eye contact, unwavering like you learned to do ever since you set out to do business as a woman in the highly competitive and male-driven fashion industry of Thailand. You were relatively young, yes, but you knew for a fact that you and the singer were almost the same age, so his comment was even more irrelevant. “You know why you’re here.”

It was a subtle reminder that he wasn’t in your office for a chat and had it not been for him the two of you wouldn’t have met at all. Honestly, when your marketing team suggested re-negotiating the terms of the contract on the basis of Ten’s recent dating scandals, you thought that the discussions would go through the entertainment company’s PR team or his manager but not the artist himself who had been the face of your brand in the last five months. You could have also let others handle the issue but when you were notified that ONER would send the singer himself to apologize, you decided to see it over yourself. Ten didn’t look very apologetic though.

“Because my company can’t handle a stalker fan’s lies,” he answered with mild annoyance coloring his voice and you arched an eyebrow at that.

“So you’re saying it’s not true.”

“Does it matter?” Ten tilted his head, black strands of hair falling into his feline-like eyes. “Other companies jumped to break off the contract without confirming anything with us.”

It was his first mistake, you thought, letting you know that he was in a slightly desperate situation if he had been losing brand deals over this already. Maybe that was the reason why his company sent him, as a token of good faith, so you wouldn’t do the same even though you were losing money because of him.

“I have been told I should too,” you admitted with a hum recalling meetings with lawyers talking about suing the entertainment company or the marketers already bringing up second choices to replace him.

To prove a point, you slid printed papers with charts about the negative dive of profit of the last campaign since his scandal broke out. To his credit, the singer did glance at it before his dark gaze settled on your face again, his eyes almost challenging as if asking what you wanted from him.

“Look, Ten, you fit my brand very well both visually and with your lifestyle,” you said because these were the main reasons he had been chosen back then. A sustainable fashion brand focusing on comfortable but chic clothing wasn’t an easy sell because of its higher price range, so you needed to market it smart and the singer ticked all the boxes. Hell, he had cats at home and sometimes volunteered at animal shelters. His first campaign with you promoting your vegan leather collection was an instant success. “I don’t want to end our partnership over personal matters because those should not concern the public but unfortunately, I can’t afford throwing out money if this goes on like this. The summer collection comes out in three months. I need your reputation to be restored by then and then we will act like nothing ever happened.”

It was the most generous offer you could offer. You colleagues thought you were being naive, that this decision could drive the company to a new low but you trusted your brand and worst case scenario you still had the female collection with an absolute pure sweetheart as its ambassador.

“What’s the catch?” Ten frowned like he doubted your sincerity and maybe he was right to do so, the entertainment industry wasn’t easy even based on what little you saw from it.

“No catch. Unless you don’t count my lawyers suing your company for all our losses if this doesn’t get better by that time,” you point at the downward curve on the chart. You were being honest but you were still giving him a chance which was more than most of the companies did in risky situations like this.

Your phone buzzed on your desk before the singer could have said anything and you would have switched it off if it was anybody else but when you saw your mother’s contract, you hesitated.

“Sorry, I have to take it,” you apologized during a brief eye contact before standing up from the desk and taking the call. Maybe this was your first mistake.

You didn’t want to be rude and send the idol away so hastily, nor did you want to leave him alone in your office, so you hoped you could end the call quickly in the corner of the room, refilling a glass with water. You should have known better though. It was your mother calling in the middle of a workday after all.

“Guess what? I arranged a date for you! His family owns the biggest hospital in Bangkok!” Your mother chattered way too enthusiastically right away without hellos or how are yous like always and way too loud in the silence of your office.

“Mom!” You hissed in disbelief, immediately lowering the volume of your phone and your voice as well. “Cancel the date. I’m busy.”

“You can’t use your business as an excuse forever, honey. You’re not getting younger. You should start thinking about settling down,” your mother chastised like all the time when you told her not to meddle in with your dating life. You were getting tired of it.

“Look, mom, can we at least not do this now? I’m with a client,” you quickly shot the topic down, keen to end this conversation. Suddenly even talking about company profit losses seemed like the better option.

“Okay, honey. But think about it! I will send you his number,” your mother made a mwah sound as a goodbye and hung up. You could do nothing but sigh and try to re-compose yourself before turning back to the idol in the room.

“Sorry about that,” you apologized as you walked back to the table with the glass of water in hand and you didn’t miss the way, the singer’s eyes followed each of your movements. He waited until you seated again and you eyes met, then a lazy smile spread on his lips and he spoke up.

“Actually, I might have a proposal to make. A business proposal if you like, that can clean my image and maybe even stop your mother’s nagging,” he claimed way too confidently to your liking, especially considering what he just said. You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding how the two were related but you were too taken aback by his sudden eagerness to call him out on meddling with your family business.

“Y/N,” Ten brazenly called you by your name as if you were friends and he looked nothing short of determined when he continued. “Date me.”

Out of all the things he could have said, you would have never guessed that. You were so bewildered that for a moment you dropped your well rehearsed business persona and glared at him, not amused at his antics at all. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Are you out of your mind?” You questioned and you had half a mind to end his contract right there and then for being inappropriate. That was his answer to your generosity? Ridiculous.

“Well, fake date to be more precise,” the guy corrected himself with a casual wave of his hands as if it was nothing to him. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on your desk, ready to sell the idea. “Think about it. Your family is respectable, so if we say we have been going out for a while, the stalker’s words will count nothing against yours. We can even say that we didn’t want to reveal it because we didn’t want people to make assumptions about us working together. Which is also a perfect excuse to say how we met and got closer. It’s a good publicity stunt to get some positive attention on both your brand and me. You can tell people how supportive of a boyfriend I am and I can charm your mother so hard she doesn't know what hit her and she won’t bother you with blind dates for a while.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was wrong, that it was stupid, but no matter how crazy his idea was, it wasn’t something unheard of in the industry. Shipping culture was a soft power in your country and even if you weren’t an idol or model, you were a public figure not only because of your business but because of your rich parents’ endless socialite appearances.

“You came up with all this right now?” You asked suspiciously because it was a conveniently detailed proposal considering that your mother’s call wasn’t longer than two minutes.

“My company did suggest that I should fake a relationship with a friend for good publicity,” the guy didn’t even hesitate to admit with a shrug and you appreciated his honesty at least. If he was like that beyond the all too sweet smiles maybe he wouldn’t make that bad of a business partner.

“We are not friends,” you reminded him sharply even though you knew he didn’t mean it like that. He most definitely didn’t think about dating you either until he heard you desperately trying to get your mother to cancel an arranged date.

“We can be,” Ten said coyly with a stupid smirk sitting on his lips. “I don’t hear you say no.”

To be honest, if you were to fake date anybody, you hated to admit it but he was a plausible option. He was objectively handsome, no wonder the amount of fangirls followed all his moves, and you knew that he also came from a wealthy family if his private international school background was anything to go buy, so you were pretty sure your mother would have found him good enough to be your partner. And if you did manage to convince the public that he was a loyal boyfriend, even your brand could benefit from it. The worst thing that could happen would be him lying about dating that fan but even that would backfire on him and not you, so you don’t have that much to lose.

“We need a contract,” you simply told him after you made up your mind, pulling up an empty document on your laptop and the singer chuckled.

“Of course you would say that.”

“I don’t hear you say no,” you mimicked him mockingly, reminding him that he needed you more than you needed him because even if he could easily find himself a date, he was right when he pointed it out that your family was reputable. It was hard to match socialite power. “I want your company to send over any press release with my involvement for review.”

“Okay,” Ten agrees easily and adds his own term in exchange. “You will need to be my plus one for public appearances to sell this.”

You hum since you have already guessed that. With both of you having public personas, it was kind of inevitable.

“That can be arranged if I don’t have other obligations. My family will expect you at dinners and at least some business parties as well.”

“I can do that,” the guy nodded and you swat his hand away when he tried to reach out to fix a strand of hair falling to your face while you typed. “I will have to touch you. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know how couples act,” you deadpan as you look him in the eye. “Just keep it… appropriate. And don’t do it when we’re alone.”

Ten raised his hands in defence as he leaned back in his chair, letting you work in silence. You showed him the first draft of the contract, making sure to involve conditions about touching (no kissing!) and if he ever got caught in cheating rumours because he can’t keep it in his pants discreetly, you would not only end this fake relationship but also end his modelling contract with your brand. Obviously he had the right to do the same but you weren’t worried about your part. Ten made you add a clause about the consequences of getting caught lying about your relationship and it was fair because the one who would cause it would have to compensate the other. You printed two copies for each of you which you signed, then you deleted the original file from your computer. It was all very formal and business-like, even as you exchanged LINE contacts to be able to communicate easier.

“Ten… The same deadline applies. If this doesn’t work out until the summer collection is out, we drop the act,” you told him firmly but he just smiled like he knew for sure that it would work like charm.

“Sure, babe, try not to fall in love with me until then,” he had the audacity to wink at you before he left your office with your new contract tucked into his jeans’ pockets like it was spare change. Maybe you should have already known then. Ten rarely played by the rules and you were bound to lose.

When the press release (reviewed and approved) was posted online, Ten sent you the link but even if he didn’t, you would have soon found out thanks to the stir it caused among all your acquaintances. You had a separate work and personal phone for a reason but once the news broke out, both devices kept buzzing like crazy. Friends, ‘friends’ and people that you haven’t talked to in years and probably secretly wanted to see you fail suddenly contacted you to comment on your relationship status. Some congratulations, some eager questions. You ignored them all. You just let out a deep sigh, leaning back on your couch, and watched the Bangkok skyline over your wall-to-wall glass windows.

In the grand scheme of things it was such a small, insignificant thing yet the stir in the clear peaceful waters was obvious. It didn’t take long for the news to reach the person you have been waiting for and it was the first call you took, not only because you could never let yourself ignore your mother but because you were actually curious whether she took the bait, whether she believed that you could and would date a popstar behind her back.

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us you were dating all this time?” Your mother sounded thrilled and well, that was enough of an answer to your musings. It was almost laughable how easy it was.

“We tried to keep it lowkey. With his job you know how it is,” you replied in a carefully crafted, almost bashful voice. Good thing that having your formative years pass in front of the public eye had taught you to become a good enough actress.

However, you were aware that the publicity Ten received on a daily basis was different from the one you had been dealing with growing up, you knew that there was a risk with such a deal too no matter how well-established your family was or how good your reputation was. For some fans, you could never be good enough for their idol, for some, Ten could never become the kind of person who was allowed to date. So you knew better than to read over comment sections or pay too much mind to your personal social media accounts now. You were doing this for your company anyways and your PR team would handle whatever happened in that corner of the Internet. You would wait for the immense initial reaction to pass and then re-evaluate whether you had made the right decision with this deal or not.

“Well, it’s out now. I would like to meet him,” your mother insisted, an expected request, so you promised her that you would talk with Ten about his schedule and arrange something. That much wasn’t even a lie.

The idol was much more accommodating than you expected though but then again, he reminded you that he had much time on his hands now that lots of his works had been either put on hold or terminated due to the scandal that one toxic fan caused and he was ‘always up for some fun’ as he claimed. Relieved enough that he agreed so quickly, you didn’t want to try your luck and tell him that out of the two of you, it was only him who was looking forward to that family dinner as if it was something fun. You wrote it off as an obligation, something you couldn’t skip out on, something to get over with and not get used to in the upcoming three months.

Either way Ten had promised to be there and you decided to trust his word because he had been punctual when it came to business too whether that was thanks to his manager or not, you would probably figure out soon enough, so after work you headed over your parents’ house in the suburb, greeted by the familiar sight of lush greens and eager employees opening doors in front of you.

The dinner table was also conveniently set by the time you arrived, but your parents weren’t anywhere to be seen until the headmistress didn’t announce your arrival. Then, it was like clockwork: your mother making a comment on your appearance and your father asking about business, so predictable. You glanced to check the time on your watch as you were ushered to sit down by the table and while the idol didn’t have a reason to make you doubt him, it was a habit: always expect the worst, so you wouldn’t be disappointed. So when Ten showed up two minutes into your father’s monologue about investment, announced by the headmistress, you tried not to show your surprise or relief, after all if you really dated, you would have been sure he would come right on time.

“Sorry for being late. I didn’t want to come empty-handed,” Ten walked into the dining room with a charming smile, a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. Your mother cooed right away, complimenting you for choosing a man who knew how to make a first impression but she was watching expectantly as Ten approached you. You tried not to give it much attention, tried to shake off the feeling of being under microscope lens and maybe that was how the singer took you aback with the ease he leaned into your space and left a fleeting peck on your temple. It was quick and barely there but it clearly made your mother satisfied.

“Hey, babe,” Ten smiled easily and effortlessly charming as if it wasn’t the first time he was doing this and you had to give it to him, he fit in the role of a sweet boyfriend very soundly.

You forced a smile as he pulled the chair next to you out and sat down, the first dish being served right away as your mother grabbed on the chance to ask about details: how you met, how long this had been going on and why you decided to reveal it now after successfully keeping it as a secret. Expected questions were followed by practiced answers. Measured from your part but coy from Ten’s side. It made you wonder whether he played that part too or he was just naturally like that. You refused to think too much into it as you went through the motions of the dinner with practiced ease. You didn't interact with the singer more than you had to but even if your parents noticed, they made no comment on it, you had always been keeping to yourself even in your relationships, so it wasn’t that surprising.

Dinner went by faster than you thought it would, your father patting Ten on the shoulder and your mother promising to send him the stupid eggplant cream recipe. It left a bitter taste in your mouth that your mother had never liked the last guy you had brought home but she was already so enamoured by your fake boyfriend. It was really unfair, how charming he was but you couldn’t quite complain, not when this was exactly what you wanted.

“Your mother really wanted you to bring a guy home, huh?” The singer asked once you were out of the air conditioned house, the setting Sun leaving hues of orange across his face.

“That obvious?” You let out a snort at his question.

For a minute, Ten didn’t say anything, just followed you to your car, being a gentleman and all, but when he spoke up next, his voice softened.

“Are you okay?” His voice was quiet, eyes surprisingly deep. He barely knew you but he clocked in on that something was off tonight, your usual confidence waning at your family table, so you gulped, feeling way too seen.

“Yeah, it’s just… family. They can be a bit too much,” you shrugged, forcing nonchalance into your gestures. “Thanks for today, now at least she will believe me when I say I don’t need those dates.”

The singer made a noncommittal noise as if it was no biggie was him and you leaned against your car door before you dared to ask him about his side.

“How is the public response? Have you regretted your plan yet?” You asked, with forced playfulness, because while you had the chance to ignore all the rumours and public opinion, you knew that his job required him to be more responsive to all that or at least his company surely.

Ten however just huffed out an amused laugh.

“It’s better than expected to be honest, though there are certainly some news outlets wondering whether it's just a publicity stunt,” he gestured between the two of you way too casually for somebody who could be caught in a lie by the public. “But my fans think I do need an independent woman like you.”

At least the fans who don’t send you death threats, you thought but didn’t voice it out because the idol clearly tried to lighten the mood, so you played along.

“And why is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He grinned, wide and carefree, then leaned way closer than necessary with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Just in case your mother watches from the windows.”

His predicament made you chuckle but you couldn’t deny the possibility, so you nodded at him, letting his lips graze against your cheek before stepping back, walking to his own car. You pushed down the urge to check the windows for any onlookers before getting into yours.

Fake dating Ten came easier than expected. The novelty of the news wore off in about two weeks, covered up by some new celebrity scandal. The idol’s company started setting him back up for public appearances and the spring collection sales were also doing better than before, going strong after a little hitch. You still caught sight of comments about how you didn’t deserve the guy and you weren’t even that pretty but overall the response was supportive. So when ONER sent you an invite for an event where Ten would perform, you cleared your schedule to be able to attend. Initially you wanted to arrive separately to not rub the news into the public’s face even more and add to the mystery but the agency suggested being bold about it, so on the day of the music gala, you were picked up by Ten’s manager.

Ten wore a loose shirt from your brand that fit him like a dream. But then again, he looked good in anything. You remembered your employees’ cheers when he signed with your company because with his YSL contract and all, you couldn’t have been sure he would model for an up-and-coming Thai brand. Since then, you had seen him wear clothes of your own making numerous times but somehow it was different when he was right next to you, smiling as he patted the seat next to him as he let his eyes rake through your own dress choice.

“We’re matching,” he stated, not in surprise, just observant and amused, and you snorted. Of course, you did. His company had asked you to send over an outfit for him, so obviously you color and style-coordinated your own choice of dress and accessories to match his.

“Might as well shove the whole couple thing into their faces now,” you shrugged as you lifted the hem of your long skirt to avoid stepping on it once you were in the backseat and didn’t say anything when Ten casually leaned over to help your with the seatbelt before the car lurched forward.

“Power couple, I would say,” the singer grinned and you spared him another glance, already imagining the jealous fangirls’ comments. Not to be arrogant but you did think you would look good next to each other visually and that was all people saw anyways.

“You’re awfully confident,” you noted, which made the idol laugh.

“Comes with the job I guess. You either get insecure at every turn or learn to own it,” he shrugged and for the first time you really looked at him, trying to see under that public personality mask he wore so perfectly. You knew from experience as a CEO in a still male-driven industry that a good facade could still hide many uncertainties and you couldn’t help but wonder whether he struggled staying true to himself while posing for cameras almost 24/7. But you decided against pushing for more. In a few months you would end this deal one way or another, so there was no use of getting to know each other on a deeper level than what was necessary to sell your roles.

You turned towards the window, looking at the familiar Bangkok neighbourhoods as you passed by while listening to the music faintly coming from the radio. Ten didn’t bother striking up a conversation either, so the ride spent in relative silence until you arrived at the venue surrounded by reporters, TV station staff and fans behind cordons. The lights flashing through the darkened windows still made you frown.

“Ready?” Ten flashed you a billion baht worth smile and you forced yourself to return the gesture. The show was on.

When the security guard outside opened the door for you and helped you out, you thanked for his help while waiting for the singer to join you by your side. Ten offered you his arm which you took with more gratitude than anticipated. You were relieved that he wasn’t the type of person who would touch and guide you by the small of your back when you weren’t even that close even if you were supposed to be in a relationship in other people’s eyes.

You smiled for photographs on autopilot as you walked down the red carpet towards the music hall where you were accompanied towards the VIP area and Ten left to prepare for his performance. The booth where you were assigned had other celebrities from the entertainment industry, some you recognized from Ten’s agency, so you were sure it wasn’t a coincidence that you were seated like this.

However, seating apart didn’t stop the extravagantly styled Bambam from coming over to your table just before Ten’s performance.

“Excited?” He asked with casualness that shouldn’t have come from a stranger who just sat himself down on the empty chair next to you.

“Yeah,” you answered both because it was partly true and because it was what a girlfriend should have said. You had no idea how close he was with Ten but with the entire purpose of selling the act you doubted that the idol went around telling his friends that it was fake.

“I have seen the dry rehearsal in the morning, you should prepare your heart,” Bambam winked with his mouth pulled into a smirk and while you weren’t sure what he meant by it at first, in the next few minutes you could experience it first hand.

You never really paid attention to Ten’s stage presence even though you had seen him briefly perform a few times. In your eyes, you had always cared more about him being a model than anything else because that was the most important thing for your brand even though you knew that it was far from where his main expertise lay. So seeing him on stage, in his element, was eye-opening. The way he commended attention simply with his presence and how his voice was like a siren song echoing in your ears long after the music stopped was mesmerizing. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it wasn’t even because of the extensive amount of skin shown when his black shirt slipped off his shoulder ‒ probably not accidentally ‒ but because of how effortlessly he captured the audience’s attention, including yours.

During the performance you even forgot about the many eyes on you, waiting for your reaction, but afterwards you were painfully aware of the people around you gawking at you and dissecting your expression to read something into it. You wondered what kind of internet articles would be posted that night but before you could have started worrying too much, Ten slipped into his seat next to you and nudged your shoulder.

“Did you like it?” He prompted with clear excitement written all over his face and a playful tilt in his voice. You frowned at him as if the question didn’t make sense.

“Fishing for compliments?” You raised an eyebrow at him provokingly but instead of deflecting, Ten leaned closer.

“From you? Always.”

For a moment you didn’t know how to react. He must have acted like this because of the audience around you, because everybody expected him to but you couldn’t help the hitch in your breath. You cleared your throat.

“You know you were good,” you said eventually and poked his forehead with your index finger to push him away. He just laughed off your antics, remaining close enough that your shoulders occasionally brushed when either of you shifted to the side but you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. It was actually kind of nice to have somebody with you at an event like this who would share little comments that made even the boring parts fun. Somebody who made you feel comfortable even with cameras in your face.

A week later Ten had a bouquet of flowers ‒ freesias and roses in soft pink and crimson colors wrapped with white ribbon ‒ delivered to your office. Your employees swooned at the gesture and you had to admit that it made something dormant flutter in your chest too. Your ex-boyfriend never thought of doing something like that and it was conflicting to know that somebody like Ten, just as busy with his entertainment work as one could be, had taken the time to send you this when whatever you had was not even real. It made you wonder just how much more giving he could be with a real partner.

It wasn’t just a bouquet of flowers out of the kindness of his heart, though, you knew it wasn’t. It was a careful setup, waiting for one of your co-workers to break and post about the events on social media, so it could go viral just how much of a lovely boyfriend he was. Yet, despite knowing that there must have been intentions like that behind it, it felt nice to receive something like that. Especially because on the note attached to the flowers, it was clearly his handwriting and his cheeky smiley faces drawn.

Saturday evening. Come over.

Underneath that, an address.

It could have been a text. You had mostly communicated via phone already, so there was no reason for him to put into the effort to be old-fashioned about it and send you a note with flowers if he wanted to invite you over. Speaking of which, you dialled his number without thinking too hard about it and skipped greetings when the line connected after a few long seconds.

“No. It wasn’t part of the contract,” you reminded him because this relationship was fake for a reason, so you saw no reason to visit him at his home. It was one thing that he had already been at your parents’ place but it was different, it would have been just the two of you if his manager didn’t tag along which you doubted. And it wasn’t that you were afraid something would happen, you knew better than that but you also didn’t deem it necessary. The clearer the boundaries remained between the two of you, the more distant you stayed while pretending the easier it would be to end this charade when the time came.

The singer let out a breathy laugh as if he had expected your reaction. He didn’t seem offended at all.

“My company wants us to go out in unofficial settings because apparently it’s suspicious that the press never caught us near either of our apartments,” he explained and you pursed your lips, deep in thought. You hated that it made sense. Ten must have sensed your hesitation though because his voice was even lighter when he carried on: “Come on, I won’t bite. You can just tell me about the upcoming collection I would wear or something.”

“I’m not afraid,” you rolled your eyes at the implication because being alone with him at his place shouldn’t have made anything different.

“Good. Then see you on Saturday,” Ten hung up the phone cheerfully, leaving you annoyed over just how easy he had his way.

You had been called a lot of things in life but not a coward, so on Saturday you headed over to the address on the quality paper that came with the flowers against your better judgement. You weren’t sure what you expected from an artist who lived in the lavish neighbourhood of the city, high enough to have a view of the river but certainly not being circled by not one but two cats the moment Ten opened the door for you despite knowing that he had pets.

“Oh, hello there,” you crouched down, patting the head of the more brave animal that nuzzled against your palm almost immediately. You smiled fondly as they poked their little wet noses against your hand and ankles, purring quietly.

“They like you,” the singer noted from where he leaned against the wall in the hallway and you looked up at him.

“Uhum. Do your fake girlfriends need to be pet-approved?” You tilted your head, the playful question leaving your mouth before you could think too much into it and Ten just grinned. There was something carefree in the tilt of his mouth, something easy in his bright eyes.

“It doesn’t hurt if they are,” he shrugged and held out a hand for you. You didn’t need his help to pull you up but you didn’t want to be difficult and refuse something so insignificant, so you slid your fingers over his and let him give you momentum. He held onto you while you unclasped your heels and put on house slippers instead.

“They are Levi and Louis by the way. Leon is lazily lounging somewhere too. Or trying to go through my cabinets for food,” Ten said as his hand fell off yours and you immediately missed the warmth of it no matter how absurd it was.

You linked your fingers behind your back as you followed the host inside his home. It was messy in the way that there were a lot of things on top of each other or shoved closely side by side but it was cleaner than what you expected from a bachelor. Most furniture had a light color and the wall was decorated with contemporary art pieces which was a nice touch.

“Like it?” Ten suddenly appeared next to you as you were immersed in a digital painting with bold strokes and vibrant colors.

“I didn’t know you collect art,” you said quietly, realizing that you didn’t know a lot of things about him. You assumed a lot based on his confident and easygoing attitude but it wasn’t the same. You didn’t know that he spoiled his cats nor did you know that he was the type of person who would wear a casual, loose tee and shorts at home even with the AC quietly buzzing in the background.

“I don’t, not exactly,” the idol chuckled and tapped on the glass of the framed piece. “I made these.”

You turned to look at him with widened eyes just to see if he was joking but Ten looked serious enough.

“So you were just fishing for compliments again?” You tilted your head.

“Busted,” he laughed, the sound of it echoing in the air like a song itself. “Do you want something to drink? I have wine in the fridge, juice, tea and a coffee machine I barely use.”

“You don’t seem like a wine person,” you blurted out with furrowed brows because you couldn’t really imagine him sipping wine while sitting on his couch surrounded by cats like a wine aunt.

“Well, I’m not really. But your mother told me your favourite kind,” the singer shrugged like it was normal but out of all things you learned that day about him, this took the cake.

“You talk with my mother?”

“I’m selling the best future son-in-law act,” Ten said in that infuriatingly attractive confident voice of his. No wonder your mother was so charmed by him, lately she kept telling you to invite your boyfriend over again and how he would have to meet this or that family member. You knew that this was the whole point but you didn’t want to drag your entire family into this.

In the end you opted for some lemon water, played with his cats, asked him about his new mini album preparations and the fashion show he would attend in Milano. It was nice, way nicer than what you expected and hours went by faster too.

“You could stay over, you know,” Ten offered oh so casually when you told him that it was late and you should go home.

“In your dreams,” you snorted, which made him laugh. The sound of it echoed in your ears the entire ride home.

The next time Ten didn’t have to convince you too much to visit him. You brought snacks for his already spoiled cats and shared takeout on his balcony.

Soon, it somehow became a routine that between public appearances for whatever reason, you visited him one or two times a week even after the gossip magazines posted pictures of you leaving his apartment complex late at night.

Things between you became awfully domestic after a while. The way his touch was now natural on your hand, the way your knees touched as you sit on the floor of his living room, playing with his cats, the way you stood in the kitchen side by side, him washing the dishes and you drying, the way his teasing cheek kisses in public seemed to linger a little longer lately and suddenly you found yourself craving for more.

You shredded off some layers of each other’s public personalities too. You told him about your family and the challenges of being a young female CEO while he told you about the struggles of being in the competitive entertainment industry. One day you noticed a whitened scar on his knee and asked about it, more curious about him now than ever, thinking that it was just a childhood accident but the shine in Ten’s eyes told a different story.

“I had an injury once. I thought I would never be able to dance again. So I started focusing on singing more then,” he confessed and you realized that he hid more vulnerabilities beneath that confident facade than you would have expected, so from then on you didn’t try to deflect when he asked about your opinion. You told him when you liked the demo of his new song and you complimented his performance that took your breath.

Boundaries started to bend and fade when the little touches started to feel more deliberate and the flirty comments just a bit more serious but you didn’t stop him. Truthfully, you didn’t want him to stop.

It happened on a day when he picked you up from your company and drove you to a new Chinese restaurant he wanted to try on the waterfront. You had wind in your hair and a flutter in your heart as he drove you back to his place. On days like this, you had to remind yourself that it was all fake, that it was all for the show, for the marketing numbers and reputation points. But was it really?

You sat with your legs tucked under you on the fluffy carpet in Ten’s living room with your iPad on the coffee table, one of his cats sleeping an arm-length away when the singer slid a glass of wine on the table.

“New design?” He asked as he looked over your shoulder to take a look at your drawing.

“Yeah but I’m not sure how I want the collar to be,” you hummed, reaching for the drink. Now that you didn’t come with your car you would take a taxi home anyways.

Ten sat down beside you and leaned forward to zoom in on the details of your drawing. You didn’t snap at him because you were too busy trying to even out your suddenly stuttering breath as his chest pressed against your back.

“If you widened the sleeves a bit, I think this triangle one would look the best,” the idol pointed at one of your half-done sketches eventually, seemingly unaware of the momentary static noise he caused in your brain with his closeness.

“Hm, let’s see,” you muttered and adjusted the drawing to fit his description while also being awfully aware of his breath on your skin in your off-shoulder dress.

The digital pen trembled in your hold when Ten brushed your hair behind your shoulder, so his mouth could graze against your neckline as he leaned closer.

“We shouldn’t,” you whispered, not playing stupid and asking what he was doing. You both knew what it was and what it was building up to. Ten didn’t pretend to be innocent either.

“Why?”

You had no good answer to that. All logical reasons were erased from your mind when he touched you.

“The contract…” you tried weakly because there must have been a clause about something like this but you were already at the end of your resolve from the way Ten’s lips moved against your skin.

“Fuck the contract,” he said in a low voice which made the breath stuck in your throat.

You turned towards him and then couldn’t look away, not even if you tried. The dark pool of his eyes drew you in and you felt your cheeks warm under his intense stare. There was something syrupy slow about it, about the way Ten closed the distance between you, like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to memorize the way your wine-stained lips felt against his. It was merely a press at first and your eyes fluttered closed before he slid a hand under your jaw, tilting his head just right.

Then the rest of the night was a blur: his satin shirt wrinkled in your hold, his elegant fingers pulling down the zipper of your dress, the softness of his sheets and the eagerness of his kisses.

You should have been more careful because if the way you got comfortable waking up in Ten’s bed wasn’t a flashing warning sign then nothing was.

The familiar sound of your alarm woke you up and you stumbled out of warm, bare arms to find your phone on the bedside table and turn it off.

“You wake up ungodly early,” Ten complained in a sleep-ridden, hoarse voice just like he did every single time when you stayed over in the last two weeks. He whined and pouted like a sulky cat but when the night came, he was the one who pulled you back into the bed.

“Go back to sleep then,” you told him, resisting the urge to kiss him goodbye just because his bed hair and sheet wrinkled face was cute.

After the first time – and the second when you didn’t want to assume that it would happen again –, you came prepared with a change of clothes, so you wouldn’t have to go back home to change before work, but you still slept in Ten’s oversized tees, so his smell lingered even as you stepped into the bathroom. There was a second toothbrush in the cup by the sink and a rose-scented shower gel next to the showerhead because Ten noticed you wore flowery perfume. It was almost too easy to slip into this routine and sometimes you found yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

By the time you changed and made yourself presentable, Ten was out of bed, pouring freshly made coffee into a mug and handing it over to you. He had Levi curling its tail around his ankle and a lazy smile on his face. Even with messy hair he looked devastatingly handsome.

“So what are your plans for the week?” He asked.

You took a sip of the coffee he learned to make perfectly to your taste and you told him about the new female model hiring process, the discussions with the material supplier and the dinner you had to attend because of your parents. The idol pouted when it turned out he couldn’t be there because he had to travel to Phuket for a photoshoot and his company also wanted him to shoot a vlog there, so he would be away almost the entire week. The news left a strange feeling in your stomach, more bitter than coffee, and it must have been something to do with being away for the first time since this thing started between you two. You gulped down another sip of your coffee, trying to sound nonchalant about it as you told Ten to have fun. He must have seen through you though.

“Come with me,” he prompted and you scoffed, thinking that he was joking, just being flirty. His usual nonsense self.

“To Phuket? Yeah, no, I can’t,” you shook your head, already listing off excuses: work, the Thursday dinner party, the suddenness of it…

“Why not? Just for the weekend,” Ten leaned closer, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his eyes softening in a way that had you weak every time. “Please.”

And really, how could you have said no to that?

Even if it led to a weekend of chasing each other down on the golden beach, kissing the taste of coconut and rum cocktails off lips in the shade and waking up entangled in a hotel bed.

You should have known it was a bad idea but then again just because your fake relationship shifted into something else, you shouldn’t have had to hide it, so you showing up at Ten’s agency couldn’t have been such an unexpected thing. Sure, key personnel and managers knew that you weren’t actually dating and they had nothing to fear, and as far as others were concerned you had already gone public. So you weren’t sure why you were so nervous about it but maybe your gut feeling knew something that you didn’t.

When Ten had invited you over to watch him practice his new choreography, so then you could go back to his place together, he probably didn’t expect you to overhear something that was surely not meant for you to hear. The weight of his manager’s words muffled behind a half-closed door squeezed at your chest uncomfortably and you felt disoriented for a moment. You knew that this thing with Ten wasn’t supposed to last but the suddenness of the realization made you lose your breath. You tripped on air as you staggered backwards, back towards the exit instead of the practice room on the top floor.

Maybe it was because you had been hurt before but at the first sign of problems, your walls were building back higher than before. But you needed to stay calm because you couldn’t let Ten know how affected you were, how much he had you wrapped around his finger. You needed to keep up the professional mask until you had a reason to end this or until his agency decided that they didn’t need you anymore. At least now you knew what to expect.

I’m not feeling well. Rain check?

You texted Ten once you collected yourself as if nothing was wrong and tried to act like it too when the worried replies came. He sounded genuine and it made you wonder whether he knew what his agency was planning but then again the whole fake dating was ONER’s idea to begin with. You might not have liked them very much but at least they were straightforward with Ten when it came to parading his relationship status on billboards.

Knowing this made it harder to face Ten because you weren’t sure you could keep a straight face once he was close enough. You were afraid you would have broken into pieces the moment he touched you, so you started turning down invitations and flirty comments with excuses like you were busy or something came up. But Ten was smarter than he looked, tactful and he was insistent like wildflowers that survived in the harshest conditions and were impossible to get rid of. He kept checking in on you, reminding you to eat enough, sleep enough, or sending you pictures of his cats claiming that they missed you. A greedy part of you wished he told you it was him who missed you. Maybe then you would have folded immediately.

Ten showing up in your office really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It’s been almost two weeks since you started dodging his inquiries, you only met for one official event and it was painfully awkward because you were way too distant even if you blamed it on tiredness and Ten didn’t push. But he must have had enough.

“You have been avoiding me,” he said the moment the door closed behind him and it was just the two of you. His tone was playful but his eyes were telling a completely different story. He looked serious, a bit unsure, as if he was wondering whether he did something to deserve this kind of treatment and the thing was he didn’t. It wasn’t even his fault. You didn’t blame him for any of it.

“I’ve been busy with the summer collection launch,” you used your well-rehearsed excuse and looked down at your laptop with your presentation open but not actually focusing on it. You just weren’t sure you could stand Ten’s intense stare at you for much longer without burning up. You feared that one look now that the two of you were alone would be enough for him to dissect what was going on in your brain and see right through you. You prayed he would buy this reasoning and leave but it was in vain; Ten was nothing if not persistent.

“It didn’t stop you before from seeing me,” he reminded you, which was unfair really because you were well aware of those nights when you stumbled across his threshold close to midnight or when you just watched a movie on his couch because both of you were tired. Really, it shouldn’t have been an excuse, you knew and he knew too. So you came up with one that was more likely, something a bit closer to the truth.

“Is it that hard to believe that I’m stressed and not in the mood to sleep with you?” You sighed and forced yourself to look up, straight into the singer’s eyes and for a moment you thought he would make a suggestive comment on it detailing exactly how sex could help de-stress but he didn’t. Instead his shoulders dropped as if he was relieved.

It was ridiculous because shouldn’t it have been about sex for him? About the release he couldn’t get so easily? With his job, one night stands were risky, so having you must have been convenient for him and now you suddenly drew the lines between you again without proper explanation just because you caught feelings and couldn’t deal with it. It should have pissed him off, so why did he look so freaking understanding?

“You could have just said so then,” he said gently, his voice echoing in your head like a calming balm.

You had to close your eyes for a moment to collect yourself because it reminded you too much of the tone he used when he called you sweet things in bed. When you opened your eyes again, Ten’s dark, curious eyes were on you already. His lips parted but then he seemed to hesitate and you could feel your heart squeeze at the sight, half-anticipating, half-fearing what he might say.

“Do you think I only want you over for sex?” He ended up asking eventually and the way he said it almost sounded crude, almost as if it pained him.

“No. It’s also practical to sell the fake dating for the press,” you hummed, diplomatically, referring back to the original reason why you started going over to his place in the first place. It was his agency’s idea and really, wasn’t it ironic, that it was always the agency that called the shots?

“Really?” Ten scoffed in disbelief, with an unusual edge in his normally easygoing voice. It sounded like a challenge, as if he was waiting for you to take your words back but you didn’t.

“Yeah. What else would it be?”

The idol stared at you for a long second, then he strode closer to your desk and your heartbeat picked up its speed the closer he got. Your breath hitched when he put his hands down on the sleek wooden material and leaned closer to look down on you, his eyes almost drowning you.

“Do you really think I would be here if it was still fake to me?”

His words implied that it wasn’t fake, that he felt something more too, something real and that was it, that made you snap.

“You don’t get to tell me that!” You rose from your chair, facing him from the other side of your desk. Ten didn’t even flinch, he just watched you closely as if he was trying to figure you out.

“And why is that?”

“I heard your manager say that you would end this before your next album drops so you could sell the heartbreak concept better,” you blurted out, the words you had heard back at the entertainment company still ringing in your ears.

Anger boiled inside you but you weren’t sure why exactly. Was it because he kissed you like he meant it while he knew that it would end so soon? Or because he didn’t even give you a heads up which would have been nice even if you were just mere business partners? Or were you angry at yourself for being naive and falling for a popstar?

Ten didn’t deny it, he didn’t even look confused, so he did know. For some reason, it hurt more.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get it over with,” you snapped at him, pettily wanting to hurt him back.

“Y/N…” When he spoke up, his voice was devastatingly soft. You could almost hear your walls cracking but you couldn’t let it happen.

“Oh right. I should be the one to do it, so you could be the heartbroken one,” you cut him off before he could have said anything to change your mind. You hid the trembling of your hands by pressing them flat on the table and looked him in the eye as you verbally ripped your contract in half. “It’s over, Ten. For real.”

Now, that you were nursing your wine, one from the same winery he had bought you from too, you still saw his expression clearly when you closed your eyes. He had looked like he was losing something. His jaw had tensed, he had opened his mouth to say something but then a knock on your office’s door had silenced him. A coworker of yours had come in to remind you about a meeting with a retailer, so you had grabbed your laptop and passed by Ten without any further words. He hadn’t tried to stop you and he hadn’t been there when you had been back. It was better this way but looking back, a part of you was disappointed instead of relieved.

You didn’t understand. You were the one to end it, leaving your pride mostly intact, so why did you feel so shitty?

Maybe the worst thing was that you knew things got messy even before you started sleeping with Ten. If it was only something that came with the physical part, you could have moved on easier. But you missed just spending time with him, playing with his cats, discussing designs or his drawings, seeing him smile.

You told yourself it wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, so you allowed yourself that one night to mourn the could have beens. You drank wine, scrolled over the pictures in your chat history and blocked Ten without replying to his texts. Then you buried yourself into work.

Days later, people were still busy talking about the leaked pictures of your Phuket vacation from weeks ago and there was no press release about the break up. You weren’t sure what Ten was waiting for but you didn’t want to think too much into it. Your mother, however, didn’t help your case.

“When are you going to bring your boyfriend over again?” She asked right away the next time you went home for dinner while your father was on a business trip and there was something akin to acid and guilt crawling up in your throat as you looked down at your plate.

“He’s busy, mom,” you deflected on reflex. You were getting really good at that. It probably wasn’t a positive thing.

“Is he? I talked with him yesterday,” your mother said casually as if she was talking about the saltiness of the dish and not about the fact that she was talking with your supposed boyfriend more regularly than you did. You gaped at her in surprise and then embarrassment when her eyes told her that somehow she knew. You weren’t sure how much Ten had told her and how much she had figured out on her own but she definitely knew that something was off. It was obvious from the way her voice softened. “Look, honey, it’s normal to have disagreements in a relationship, what matters is how you solve it. You have always been so independent because you had to grow up fast but with the right person, it’s okay to be vulnerable.”

You might not have ever been really close to your mother because of how much she liked to push you into things you weren’t comfortable with, be it elite parties or blind dates, but she was family and she might have known you better than what you gave her credit for.

“And how do I know if he’s the right person?”

“I guess it’s a gut feeling and a lot of hope,” your mother answered with an encouraging smile and patted your hand as if you were still a child. Maybe in her eyes you would always be.

On your way back to your flat, you were thinking about what she said and realized that even if Ten wasn’t the one, even if he didn’t feel the same about you, you needed closure, so you could really end this chapter of your life and actually move on. Otherwise the what ifs would come back to haunt you forever. What you didn’t expect though was that you would find Ten sitting right next to your front door, head leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

Your steps faltered on the vinyl floor of the corridor, wondering how long he had been waiting and how much longer would he have done so if you came back later. Your high heels clanked on the floor as you resumed the movement and Ten opened his eyes, elegantly pushing himself to stand. You weren’t about to scold him or call him out on daring to show up in front of your place but he stumbled to explain anyways:

“Look, I didn’t want to cross any boundaries by coming here but you cut off communication with me and it’s just unfair that you end things one-sidedly and didn’t even let me explain. I just want us to talk. Then if you still don’t want anything to do with me, I will leave you alone.”

You locked eyes with Ten as you stepped closer to the door and the realization that he looked awfully tired hit you hard like bricks. Maybe you weren’t the only one losing sleep over this.

“Come in,” you whispered as you pushed the door open and you could see it on his face that your easy agreement surprised him.

Even though you usually met at his place because you were more particular about your private space, it wasn’t the first time Ten was over. However, he moved around carefully, following you into the living room from a decent distance. It was a fragile little thing, like walking on eggshells around each other, a wild contrast to how you have been on each other just a few weeks ago. Ten had already made the effort of seeking you out, so when silence settled and he seemed hesitant to speak up, you decided to break the awkwardness.

“Look, I’m sorry I shut you out but honestly, I thought cutting off all contact would be the cleanest ending,” you told him, not detailing that it also gave you a sense of control that you could end it the way you wanted when in reality it wasn’t your choice.

You didn’t have to say it out loud, apparently Ten knew you too well.

“Did you want it to end?” He prompted, voice tentative and eyes focused on you. You had to look away to be able to answer.

“Does it matter? I knew it would end one day.”

“Of course, it matters,” Ten huffed, a bit of frustration bleeding into his tone and there it was again, the implications that you weren’t the only one feeling like it wasn’t fake anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your agency’s plans?” You raised your chin high and straightforwardly posed the question about what irked you the most. Not that his agency was about to end your charade, but the fact that you had to get to know about it the way you had.

Ten let out a quiet sigh, worrying his lower lip under his teeth. His eyes shone with an openness you didn’t expect.

“I didn’t tell you because I’ve been talking with my manager about not doing the breakup. I…” he gulped, staring harder as if you could read his mind and he didn’t have to say it out loud. Maybe at the end of the day both of you were cowards, fearing embarrassment and rejection. “I didn’t want to do it.”

You pushed a bit further though. Not mean, just curious.

“And why is that?”

Ten laughed. A little amused chuckle as if he couldn’t believe you.

“You’re smarter than that, babe, come on,” he clicked his tongue and it made you crack a smile when you saw his mouth curl up as well.

“Maybe I just want to hear it from you,” you shrugged. Both of you had been vague enough so far. So many unsaid things, so many uncertainties.

Ten stepped closer, close enough to be enveloped in his scent but he didn’t touch you, not until he wasn’t sure you wouldn’t push him away.

“It’s been real. The realest thing in my life,” he whispered against your lips, sincere and real. When you closed the distance between you and kissed him, you suddenly remembered with blaring clarity his warning about trying not to fall in love with him. Now, you couldn’t even be annoyed that he was right.

You still had to deal with his agency and the media but for the first time since you had signed that contract in your office, you knew that you would face them together and that there was no deadline for what you had.

That night you posted a picture of Ten and his cats on your Instagram account with the caption my boys ♡ and the idol had the nerve to reply with good thing you are pet-approved, girlfriend ;)

#ten x reader #ten lee x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #ten scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #stories

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