#and I’m starting to feel like. I want that applied to family too. extended family too. I want to be defiant.

[writingbyshiloh]

Dating Micheal Bluth Headcanons

Micheal Bluth x Reader

Word count: 847

AN: MAN I love Michael, I had so much fun writing this. I LOVE the idea of the reader being Gob's magic assistant so I went with that for the start

I LOVE the idea of being Gob's magic assistant and dating Michael!!!! 

You saw an ad for being a magicians assistant and applied to it because of a dare

To your surprise, you got the job! It may have had something to do with Gob saying your good looks would be a distraction 

Gob ended up being a great teacher and helping you understand each trick, actually listening to your input and getting you certified with the magic alliance. Most important he was minimally creepy

You knew about his family from the rants he would go on but you haven't met them

Lucille “hired” (told Michael to hire) Gob and you for a company party

Immeadily you notice the attractive but displeased man in the front

You try to bring him on stage for a trick, which Gob shoots down immediately. After pressing him for the information you learn that the man is indeed Michael. 

Suddenly everything makes a lot more sense

After the show, Michael comes over to tell you what a great performance you did 

You were thirsty after cheering and performing for the hour, which lead to you standing at the bar, trying to flag the bartender for a drink. 

While waiting the man - Michael - leaned against the bar next to you. 

“Hey. I wanted to tell you that you were amazing” he said, turning to face you, and extending a hand. “I’m Michael, Gobs brother” 

You took his hand and introduced yourself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Gob. He never told me how good-looking you are” It must have been the excitement from performing, you typically were that bold. You could see a blush creeping up his face. 

After buying you a drink (and you pointing out that it is a company party, he is technically buying all the drinks) you exchange numbers 

Michael is hesitant to get involved because he remembers the last time he got involved with Gob's girlfriend. Gob tells him that you shot Gob down every time he asked you out.

I can't stop thinking about what a romantic Michael is in early season one. Once he gets your number he is brainstorming first date ideas to make it perfect

Obviously with his family and their problems he has trouble coming up with an idea. You suggest that he comes over to your house for dinner and to get away from his family for it bit. 

You open the door, excitement and nerves churning in your stomach. On the other side is Michael, holding a dozen roses in one hand and a nice bottle of wine in the other. You feel your face break into a grin and dramatically sweep your arm to welcome him inside. 

Honestly, I think he wouldn't spend the night the first time. The dinner was great, and you definitely enjoyed the wine and the conversation. There would definitely be some kissing but he would leave before anything serious happened

From then on, he tried to spend any free time with you, which is not a lot. You would bring him lunch when he was too busy to leave the office and sit and chat with him. Definitely would have a sneaky makeout session in his office

I can't stop thinking about how you would end up spending the night with him at the model home and scaring Gob the next day by quietly sneaking down and throwing flash paper before appearing. Gob screams while Michael rolls his eyes affectionately

The thing Michael does where he kisses someone and holds their face with both hands 

Michael with the sleeves rolled up (not a hc but I felt it should be included)

He tries to keep you away from the rest of his family at first, but you remind him that you work with/for Gob

Lisney loves you, I feel like she always wanted a sister. The first time Michael brings you to a gathering Lidnesy pulls you aside and talks to you the whole evening - about everything. She's Michaels's twin so she knows how happy you make him, but she also knows every embarrassing thing he has ever done. She also loves having someone for "girl talk" about her attempt at an open relationship 

You've met Lucille from being Gob's magic assistant but she seems pleased that you are dating Michael. She tells you that it's been too long and it's good that he got himself out there. 

The last member of the family is George Michael. Michael cares deeply for his son and wants to be sure that you will be in his life for a while before you two meet. 

Overall Michael is a caring and supportive partner who cares for you 

Especially once he considers you family. From then on, he will do ANYTHING you need. You are both lying down in bed but do you want a glass of water? He is already running the tap. Do you want to go to a restaurant? He already has the restorations made. 

#Michael Bluth #arrested development #Michael Bluth x reader #arrested development fan fiction #shiloh writing

[bnhaobservation]

Quick rambling about how for the Todorokis it actually wasn’t simple to look at each other with regards to chap 389

While not much happens in chap 389 beyond the explosion becoming, apparently unavoidable (only for Shouto to appear at the end of it as I expected, ready to save the day), there’s something interesting Touya says that’s worth to ponder.

‘Everyone’s looking at me. So this is what is like? If it was… that simple… it should have… been sooner…’

or, alternatively...

I’ll take the line as Touya pointing out the tragedy of their situation. Although he finally is satisfied because everyone was finally, FINALLY watching him, which to him felt like such a simple and minor thing they could have easily done, by now it’s too late.

Touya in the past was characterized by how his father only taught him how to raise the heat and how he honed such ability so that his already extremely hot flames are basically an inferno. What’s more, he likely also used Shouto’s phosphor to add an extra increase of temperature which lead him to the current situation in which he cumulated so much heat he’s about to release an atomic explosion. But there was another thing that characterized him. His father didn’t teach him how to turn down the heat.

He burned on Sekoto Peak because he couldn’t stop his flames, he lost control of them and couldn’t stop them and this is the same. The heat by now is out of his control, he can only increase it and he’s going to burn them all.

His family is basically experiencing what he experienced.

For years Touya had burned himself and they only told him to stop, not understanding what drove him to do so, how those burns were nothing else but a physical manifestation of the pain in Touya’s soul who was much greater than them. Now they’re burning themselves as well, because the pain of not being there trying to stop him, would feel worse than the pain the burns are causing. It’s, if possible, the most physical way to put themselves in Touya’s shoes.

But there’s something else they’re going to experience, which is what happened to him on Sekoto Peak, being unable to stop such fire. Touya didn’t want to burn on Sekoto Peak, but he couldn’t stop it. And now he and his family are the same, they can’t stop it (mind you, I’m sure Shouto will be what will turn the tide and help save everyone but, when Touya thought that sentence, Shouto wasn’t there yet and the fire couldn’t be stopped, as far as he knew).

Why all this is important?

Let’s go back to Touya’s sentence.

‘Everyone’s looking at me. So this is what is like? If it was… that simple… it should have… been sooner…’

Why no one watched him sooner?

Because it actually wasn’t that simple back then as it’s not now, that they’re standing in the middle of an unbearable heat burning them.

Why wasn’t it that simple?

‘This war’s all about the people involved. It’s not the mindless soldiers following orders who are the real movers and shakers. This is what happens when everyone’s got feelings and urges that start firing off. Some wanna change the world they live in. Or destroy the warped imbalances built up over time that we all just came to accept. Behold, the limitations of superpowered society. That’s me. That’s all of us.’

This is what Touya says when talking with Shouto about why they’re at war. But this applies to his family as well. They all had feelings and urges that started firing off and couldn’t find a way to mediate. If the Todoroki had focused on extending helping hands they could have saved each other.

We go back to Shigaraki’s speech.

‘You heroes hurt your own families just to help complete strangers!’

Yeah, that too but, right now, more on what he says after (still notice the close up on Endeavor as Shiragaki starts his talk, as he’s a father but also someone who hurt his family to help complete strangers).

‘You heroes pretend to be society’s guardians. For generations you pretended not to see those you couldn’t protect and swept their pain under the rug. It’s tainted everything you’ve built. That means your system’s all rotten from inside and crawling with maggots. It all adds up little by little, over time.’

This is what was going on in the Todoroki family. They all pretended not to see the other family members, things piled up and this lead them to where they are now.

But why they did it?

It wasn’t just out of laziness, the Todorokis, as Shimura Kotarou, were all nursing some form of psychological damage that made them unable to care for the others because, in order to hand a helping hand, they first needed to receive one and no one offered them one for a long while.

MHA is a manga in which it’s remarked that people can’t win on their own. The whole point of class A saving Midoriya was that Midoriya, despite meaning well and being the main character, just couldn’t do it on his own. It strained him too thin to try to do things on his own, he couldn’t handle it, in the long run he would break. They need to work as a group in order to suceed.

The Todorokis don’t work as a group, as a family for most of their life.

They’re too damaged, too caught up in their own damage to do so.

But let’s dig a bit deeper into this starting from the least culpable person in the house to the most culpable.

My poor Shouto is a small child of 5 nearly 6 when Touya burned himself. He’s isolated and forced to train by his father. He’d like to look at his brother, actually he’d like to do more than look at him, he wants to know him, to play with him but he’s not allowed to (and, to be honest, he’s the only one from which Touya doesn’t want nor expect to be looked at). Shouto couldn’t look at Touya at 5, it wasn’t just hard, it would have been impossible for him.

Natsuo was eight when Touya burned himself. He was a kid, meaning he absolutely wasn’t up to the task of taking care of his brother, of spending the night listening to him and soothing his distress. Natsuo was of a age in which HE needed to be looked at, not of an age in which he can look at other people.  Natsuo was also putting up with living in a terrible environment and the fact he felt neglected by Enji. Natsuo too couldn’t look at Touya. He was just too young for that and in an environment that didn’t help him at all.

Fuyumi is 12. Again, she’s too young but she also admits she’s scared, so scared she doesn’t dare to act but merely try to keep up appearances. She can’t look at Touya, she’s a child trying to survive in a toxic environment that scares her.

Rei is Touya’s mother and, although we don’t know how old she is, she’s clearly old enough the excuse ‘she’s too young’ doesn’t apply. Actually it was her duty to look at Touya. However she’s a woman who was sold to Enji to serve him by giving him suitable offspring. This leads her to remain passive, to think her son, like her, should just do what his parents want. She catches glimpses of him (she figures having more kids would be cruel toward him and that he wants his father to look at him) but can’t quite grasp how her son’s psychological damage is ruining him in a much more dangerous way that the damage his flames do. She’s busy protecting Shouto’s physical well being, she’s busy surviving Enji’s abuse and the terror it instilled in her. Ultimately she even snaps and is hospitalized. Rei should have looked at Touya but she couldn’t manage to do so. She was in serious need of help herself. She didn’t have energy to spare for the others (it’s noteworthy Natsuo too feels neglected from her when Shouto is born).

Enji is Touya’s father and he damn should have looked at Touya as it was his duty and it was what his son was begging him to do. But Enji is consumed by his own dark feelings, by his envy for All Might which rules every conscious thought and pushed him to marry a woman he didn’t love when he was around 20 purely for her Quirk, so as to create a child that would surpass All Might in terms of strength and prove that the only reason why All Might was number 1 and not him was that All Might was just born stronger. It’s implied that the trauma of the loss of his father is responsible for how Enji became this sort of person, but it’s not really that well developed so it’s hard to say. Still his negative feelings ate him from inside, he wasn’t so bad at the start but, ultimately, he became neglectful and abusive toward his wife and younger child because they were in the way of his goal (Shouto was reluctant to train and Rei didn’t want Enji to train Shouto so hard). He’s so caught up in this even when Rei is hospitalized and he knows Touya is left without parental control and is going to Sekoto Peak to train he doesn’t go to check on him. He tells himself he didn’t know what to say to him, but he could have gone there to make sure he didn’t burn himself and instead… he didn’t.

So no, to none of them it’s ‘so easy’ to look at the others because they’re all too caught up with their own problems.

The result is that the family crashes apart.

Rei snaps and ends up hospitalized. Touya, desperate to be seen, loses control of his own Quirk and almost burns himself to death, then will become a Villain to get his father’s attention if not by pleasing him, by becoming a danger to him. Enji, with his abuse and neglects destroys his own family. Shouto, prior to the series start, closes on himself, burns with a rage that’s similar to the one of his father.

But, someone might counter, ultimately Shouto overcomes this and what about Fuyumi and Natsuo? They don’t break.

The core of MHA is that people need people.

We’ve hints that Fuyumi and Natsuo, after the tragedy that hit their family, decided to support each other. They took turns at cooking, even though Fuyumi decided to stay home and care for the family so that Natsuo could go to college, Natsuo still comes back home to make her happy. They also seem to have a positive environment OUTSIDE family, Natsuo finds a girlfriend, Fuyumi’s coworkers seem supportive when the truth about her family comes out.

As for Shouto, until he was 5 he was supported by his mother then, when she was hospitalized he loses that support and, although it seems Fuyumi tried to be there for him, it just wasn’t enough and he started to get worse… until he found himself in class A, confronted with Midoriya and started to get the support of his class and teacher. The story points out how he starts to get better in gradual steps. This pushes Shouto to try to get close with his mother again, then things happen and he gets closer to Natsuo too. Shouto grows out of the support he receives.

And Shouto visiting Rei pushes Rei to improve a lot as well, she basically get better a lot.

And all this fits with the theme of the story that if we help each other we can overcome obstacles. That’s why all the family joining Enji and then Shouto coming too might save the day (I still think they’ll also need Touya to do his share to stop the explosion), but at that point the family has overcome their own personal problems to look at each other, to understand if they don’t look after each other things will only get worse because that’s exactly what happened.

In fact among the Todorokis things didn’t start out that bad. Enji wasn’t abusive, Rei seemed comfortable enough with him and their children, Touya and Fuyumi were happy little children.

The fact that when a problem come up (Touya being unable to handle his own fire), instead than joining forces and facing it together the family split, each of them nursing his own wounds and ‘fighting’ against the others instead than supporting them, caused a war inside the family that ultimately destroyed it.

‘This war’s all about the people involved. It’s not the mindless soldiers following orders who are the real movers and shakers. This is what happens when everyone’s got feelings and urges that start firing off. Some wanna change the world they live in. Or destroy the warped imbalances built up over time that we all just came to accept. Behold, the limitations of superpowered society. That’s me. That’s all of us.’

So no, it wasn’t that easy to look at Touya for his family because they were too caught up with looking at themselves and at their needs… but it could have been if, right at the start they had decided that caring for each other was what they should have prioritized.

And the sad, the tragic thing is that, now that they’re finally ready to do it, that they’ve finally figured out they’re a family and they’ve to care for each other, work together to save each other because only by saving each other they can save themselves, Touya felt it’s too late. He has lost hope and, even though he’s clearly happy that finally, finally, his family came together to look at him, to notice him and his needs, by now there’s no turning back.

Of course, since this is an optimistic story, with Shouto coming to join the mess, the situation will be surely overcame and it will be possible to turn despair into hope because Shouto’s dream is being a reassuring hero and here is likely where he’s going to prove he can give back people hope.

But well, we’ll see.

#BNHA Spoilers #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Fuyumi #BNHA Ramblings

[therubymuse]

On Discovering My Inner Fatness

CW: I’m going to be talking about a subject that a lot of people find uncomfortable, both because of how they’ve come to see their bodies, and because of how society dictates our worth. The usual content warnings apply, including but not limited to talk of weight gain and loss, weight numbers, and eating disorder discussion. You are welcome to go and return to this at any time, or peace out entirely. No hard feelings. You do you, boo. Know your boundaries. 

~

It’s all too easy to write off our experiences as children, and the experiences of our children, as just weirdness we’ll grow out of. It comes from a place of relief for parents, knowing that every new thing they see a child do, is not some indicator of their futures, positive or negative. However, as transgender folks can tell you, a lot of time, when we wished our parents had noticed our differences, they chalked those differences up to childhood weirdness. And a lot of times, this becomes one of the first disservices we do to our children, and that we do to ourselves, when examining our own childhoods. That important turning points in our young lives were of no consequence. 

I’ve used being transgender as a starting point for this examination, and will continue to throughout this work, but it can easily be extended to other truths children discover about themselves. When I was a child, it was extremely painful and laborious, addressing my body. Part of that was the incongruences I saw between myself and other girls, growing up as I did in a body that told others I was a boy. But part of it was also how small and fragile my body appeared compared to other bodies. I had no extra weight on me, at any point in my childhood and into young adulthood. This developed into a pathological need to keep that weight off, and for a few years in my early teens, I was anorexic, though I didn’t tell anyone. I just never took my shirt off in front of other people, and I dissociated when people made comments about my body. 

One of the comments I heard often in young adulthood and into adulthood was, why would I be ashamed of my body? (Insert person/group here) would love to have a body like mine! I don’t know why people thought this was comforting? I guess a lot of people’s trouble with their bodies is rooted in what other people think of them, but for me, it was what I saw, not what others saw. The other regularly repeated comment was, if I was so uncomfortable, why don’t I go work out? Surely that would help how I saw myself, but this too caused me discomfort and more dissociation than I care to admit. When I saw bodies that worked out, the supposed ideally attractive body for young men, I was uncomfortable, and aghast when I realized this was what people expected me to aspire to. I did not want to be a bigger and harder version of myself. 

So what did I want? Surely if I was that uncomfortable in my body, I had some ideas as to what could fix it, right? Well, no, not really. Transgender people were not on my radar at all growing up, and even in sex ed and Gay/Straight Alliance clubs, we weren’t talked about, so I was never able to take that extreme discomfort in my body and pin it to anything. I ended up blaming all of it on self-esteem, or a lack thereof. So did others. 

I do not assign the word “fat” a negative connotation. It is simply a descriptor for a certain kind of body, but that took a lot of time and work to achieve. I was never shown that fat people were desirable, growing up. All of my family, except me, were somewhere on the fat spectrum. But I wasn’t, seemingly no matter what I did or what I ate. There was very little positive representation of fat people that didn’t lean on well-worn stereotypes and tropes. It seemed like every cartoon in the 1990s that I watched had a story arc where the main character doesn’t pay close enough attention to what they eat and they get fat, and that was always, always their fault. So I grew up simultaneously internalizing the lesson that I should not get fat with my already supremely uncomfortable physical form. That was the basis of my anorexia. 

Even though it’s been a long time since Karen Carpenter famously died of its complications, anorexia isn’t well understood by most, and part of the reason for that, is we pathologise its behaviours as a net-benefit to a person not being fat. Calorie counting, obsession over body measurements, and skipping meals, all behaviours from which an anorexic person cannot escape, are behaviours that are praised when undertaken by anyone who is even marginally bigger than we think they should be. They are behaviours of someone who takes their health seriously, we’re told. After all, anything is better than being fat. Except when it isn’t, in the case of Karen, at which point we frame it as a failure of the individual, and not a failure of our societal values. 

If I hadn’t wrested myself from it’s clutches, I would likely have joined her in early death. At the age of 15 and a height of 5’11” I was 127 pounds soaking wet. My circulation was poor, my heart was weak, extreme exertion such as moving furniture or lifting heavy objects all day would land me in bed for days recovering, because I had no extra energy to spare other than what was keeping my body alive.  If I had continued along that path, I wouldn’t be here now. Over the course of my 20s my weight slowly recovered, but I never shook the effects of the poor circulation or lack of energy. And all the while to a chorus of well meaning but infuriating professionals, friends, and partners asking me, why don’t you just work out?

~

I went to my family doctor yesterday, and she was thrilled to hear I have recently started walking short distances in the morning as a means of increasing my strength, both externally in my limbs and internally in my heart. But almost immediately, she had one question for me. 

“So, have you lost any weight?” 

I ignored the question. It’s a subject we’ve spoken of a few times, and I’m indicated in no uncertain terms I do not want to lose any weight, that I’m happy with my body as it is, I just want to make sure I take good care of it, because I want it to last a long time yet. 

“But, have you lost any weight?” came the question again. At which point I stopped, addressed her directly, and said “I don’t want to talk about my weight with you.” I wanted to get angry about it, because we’ve been over this, and we’ve been over how hard it is for me to deflect this question after a lifetime of being extremely thin, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in. This is my first experience with a doctor who has done this repeatedly, though if the experiences of my fat friends are any indication, it won’t be the last. 

In the last few years, I’ve found mental health medication that has worked for me, and I’ve started taking feminizing hormones for my transition and support in womanhood, but I’ve also gained a fair amount of weight. Prior to hormones, I was 160lbs. Due to muscle mass loss via estrogen, I found myself back in the 120s within six months of starting, and that was scary for me in ways I’m sure you can now understand. But then, I rebounded, and I kept rebounding. I’m 215lbs now. And on my way there,  something marvellous started happening to me. 

I started to like this body. 

It’s immense how revolutionary that feels. It’s something I’ve literally never felt towards myself. Part of that was absolutely due to the effects of my hormones. My body hair thinned out and in some places disappeared entirely, my skin became soft and smooth, and my facial features brightened. I had boobs! So many sources of joy at once. But something else that started to happen as I started to change is I started to see softness not just in my features and my skin, but all over. The lines of my bones disappeared one by one. The gaps between my arms and ribcage, between my thighs, even between my fingers began to fill in. My body started to move when I moved, and sometimes continued to move when I stopped moving. I had no idea how happy each of these little discoveries were going to make me, but they have. 

I’ve always had a blindspot when it comes to societal expectations, as applied to other people. I’ve regularly cheered on the self-expression and self-acceptance of fat people and their bodies. But just like with being transgender, that blind spot did exist when it came to my own body. I cheered on transgender people and their rights for years before it dawned on me that I was a woman. But that realization didn’t happen overnight. Decades of discomfort, and little clues littered here and there, built up an overwhelming case of evidence such than when the final piece fell into place, it was an infallible discovery. Which is why I stepped quite suddenly into it. 

Despite cheering on body positivity and fat liberation from the sidelines, and appreciating other people’s bodies when they were bigger, living in a small body for so long blinded me to seeing myself in any other way. Just as I was unable to see myself as a woman, I was unable to see myself as a fat person, too, until my body started to change. I had vilified my own femininity at the behest of culture for so many years, and I had vilified my body in the same way, until I realized how beautiful I could be if I didn’t. 

~

Today, I get different questions, ones that I’m not always ready for. A lot of folks have asked me why, in my journey from thin girl to fat girl, numbers are so important to me, and I think you’ll find the answer in this confession. For so long, the numbers were a prison. No matter how I felt about my body, I would step onto a scale and be crestfallen, to not find myself changed any, even if I felt happier at the time for some reason or another. I longed to have some indication that I had changed, and until I transitioned, I couldn’t examine my body closely without severe discomfort, so the numbers could offer consolation, if only they’d ever moved, but they never did, until I started this journey. Now, every time I get on a scale and the number goes up, I feel an immense sense of joy and relief to be free of the prison. Each of my pounds comes with me wherever I go. They keep me warm, they give me a store of energy, and they make me look as amazing as I feel. 

My body finally feels right to me, and that can be hard for others to accept when society’s valuation of my body is so pervasive. When I see myself smile in selfies and I see my chubby cheeks, I am filled with a sense of love for myself I didn’t think possible. When I reach my arms around myself and give myself a hug, my hands and arms sink into my supple frame, almost the same way they do when I snuggle a plushie. When I see myself walking in the windows I pass by, I see myself gently swaying side to side, it brings a sense of comfort I’ve never known. When my thighs and my tummy jiggle as I walk, I take up space in a way I’ve never been able to.  

In the same way as I was always meant to be a girl, I believe I was always meant to be fat, too. There is just too immense a comfort to see myself as I am now, too immense a joy. I think that there are ways in which we exist that are truest to our selves, but I also believe that societal influence, and via that other people, will do almost anything to keep us from reaching that place, if it doesn’t align with popular values. Transgender women are pressured ascribe to high femininity or be ridiculed or even killed, but my femininity doesn’t exist there. I am comfortably somewhere between adorable mom-friend and plaid-wearing wrench-slinging futch (a combination of femme and butch). And to choose to exist in that space means people judge my efforts, and attempt to take away my validity. 

This is something fat people can relate to with most fibres of their beings. You can find the right clothes, the right routines for you to feel comfortable with your fitness, the right forms of self-expression, and some asshole will always lean out their car window and sling unflattering words. It makes it difficult to maintain that acceptance of ourselves when it’s so socially acceptable to judge others. It feels exactly the same way to be unconventionally beautiful and transgender. 

I believe these identities of mine are complimentary. Both of them have brought me to a sense of peacefulness within my skin that I never thought possible. Sometimes the answer isn’t to love yourself as you are, and that’s okay. That’s not who I was, and I didn’t get a say in how I was shaped or why, until recently. I had to become and embrace these parts of me to be happy, but sometimes, I feel the imposter. Transgender women and fat women invite the same cruel, unpolished contempt, and to combine the two, sometimes feels like heresy. Not woman enough for some and not fat enough for others. I’ve often had people tell me I’m not that fat, as if that’s some kind of compliment, and likewise, that I’m attractive, for a trans woman. And as this maelstrom comes to a close, and the oceans come crashing in, I realize how much I just don’t care anymore. 

This body is mine, and it makes me happy. And that is all I could ever really ask for in this life. 

Art by hxbagels

#fat girl #chubby girl #body positivity #fat liberation #trans woman

[supernaturaltropecelebration]

Captain Oblivious and The Dense-as-Dirt Cowboy

Author: @howtumblrruinedmylife Artist: @solstheimart Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~30500 Tropes: friends-to-lovers, AU, slow burn, no supernatural, first time, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, no internalized homophobia, just very oblivious boys in love, hurt/comfort, idiots in love Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: side pairing: Sam/Eileen; addiction, alcoholism, descriptions of addictive behavior, description of the aftermath of a car accident, death of a family member (off screen, non-violent)

Summary:

A new neighbor moves into the house next to Dean’s and before he can say so much as ‘hello’, Cas has crashed right into his life, carved out a spot for himself and Dean can’t imagine it any other way. Cas is probably the best friend Dean has ever had, and since Dean’s life also includes Charlie, that means a lot. It doesn’t stop a lot of people from asking weird questions, though, and at some point, Dean has to face the simple fact: why does everyone assume they are gay?

Excerpt below the cut

“Don’t tell anyone,” Dean says, grinning conspiratorially, “But they all just want to scope you out.” Of course they all mean well and Castiel probably knows all of this, but. “Welcome to Wisteria Lane,” he adds, laughing.

“Is that what you’re doing, too?” Castiel— Cas asks, squinting at Dean, and his straightforwardness is kind of disarming and charming at the same time.

“Oh, always,” Dean admits with a wink, leaning into it. “I’m just brutally honest about it upfront.”

Slowly, Cas nods, accepts that the way he accepted Dean’s earlier sentence, word by word.

Charlie appears beside him again with an already opened bottle of soda for both of them. He thanks her with a nod and a smile and toasts to her, then extends the bottle towards Cas. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“You’re welcome. If I’m being honest, I’m still a bit overwhelmed but I also look forward to getting to know all my new neighbors.” Glass clinks against glass, a sound that Dean tries to ignore.

“Simple, just talk to them like regular, civilized Americans do — can’t run them all over,” he teases instead.

“Well, I wouldn’t have, if they’d looked left, right, left, before crossing the sidewalk,” Cas lobs right back without missing a beat, deadpan.

Dean snorts, taken by surprise, again. So that’s how this guy’s humor works. Dean digs it. “Good thing the police were already on-site to handle the incident, right?”

With a way too serious expression, which is all facade, Cas nods. “Thank you for your service, officer.”

Dean catches his bottom lip between his teeth in order to not smirk. He thinks he knows what’s up, and it’s time to test that theory. “It’s Dean.”

The expression falters, and eventually cracks. “...I knew that.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, bemused and more than a little smug.

Cas shrugs, averts his eyes. Busted. “I may have forgotten your name, yes. You got me there.”

“At least I don’t need to feel bad for missing half of yours, then.” Dean openly smirks now, can’t be helped. “Guess we’re even.”

For a moment, they just look at each other, then burst out laughing. Cas’ laugh is rough and warm, and it settles, somewhere deep in Dean’s insides. It makes him feel a little lightheaded, but that might be because he always forgets to hydrate properly when he’s on patrol.

Wheezing, Dean offers, “Okay, let’s start over, then? Hello, I’m Dean Winchester, I’m with the KCPD, I’m an aquarius. I like long walks on the beach. Nice to meet you.”

Cas collects himself enough to take Dean’s hand to shake it. His hands are big and dry, and the pressure around Dean’s knuckles is signaling confidence. “Nice to meet you, too. Castiel Novak, former FBI, virgo. I like doing yoga.”

Former FBI. Now there’s an interesting tidbit.

#spntc promo #spntc #supernatural trope celebration #destiel

[stolz-und-aufrecht]

Some of my (core) beliefs about myself & the world

Some of my (core) beliefs about myself and the world caused by my upbringing in a toxic family system. I work on changing the negative ones; but it’s hard.

Raise your hand if some of these resonate with you.

Trigger warning (death, suicide)

I believe that every person, regardless of their actions, deserves love in some capacity.

I am not allowed to be angry. Anger as an emotion does not exist for me. I never get angry at anything at all. I don’t feel it. I have the patience of a saint and then some.

I feel like I don’t belong here and the privileges of humankind do not extend to me. Because I don’t belong and I’m inherently flawed, I feel like I do not have the same fundamental rights as others. I, in contrast to others, have to work for them. I am, as a person, not good enough to receive them. They have to be granted to me by someone else.

Seemingly obvious facts (for example, “I am worthy.”, “I deserve to have boundaries.”, “I am allowed to disagree with someone.”, “Anger is normal.”) do not resonate with me. They feel wrong, like they don’t apply to me. Incorporating them into my personality and daily life makes me feel guilty; like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do. I feel like an imposter trying to take things away from people if I asserts my so-called rights. I truly feel like I have none and do not deserve them.

Expressing my anger or disagreeing with someone would reveal to them that I’m, in fact, no human being, but three racoons in a trench coat pretending to be one.

One should have empathy for every living being, even for truly horrible people. No person is completely evil. There are reasons why they act this way. Because I’m quite good at sensing where their negative traits come from, I have compassion for them. Sometimes, too much.

One should treat every person with kindness, even, if one doesn’t agree with their opinions and life choices.

I feel like I was born to serve. That’s my only purpose. I was born to serve every person I come upon, regardless of what they want from me. They have a right to it. They have a right to me.

No one else is truly evil, but I am. If people were to see this dark, deep abyss inside of me, where I have hidden all my anger and frustrations, they would come to the same conclusion.

Going to extra mile for people is the norm for me. Even if they don’t deserve my care or help. It’s an automatic feature God created me with. One time I forgot to do something at work for a colleague and although she said that it was no big deal, I could do it tomorrow, I still ran 2 miles back to work to finish it. I commute an hour by bus from and to work and hoped out as soon as I got off the phone with her. On my sprint back to work I got shit on by a bird. Talk about signs.

Others are always right. I’m always wrong.

I can’t stand someone being angry with me.

I know nothing. I know too much. I never know quite enough to even qualify to speak up during a conversation.

If I disagree with someone, state my boundaries, or express my anger in any way, shape or form, I will surely lose control of myself and either start to cry, have a full-blown panic attack or destroy the person I’m talking to by releasing all my supressed anger on them. I can never let that happen. I would embarrass myself and give away that I about three seconds from going completely mental, and not the carefully constructed personality that they know. That woman who always smiles, is super kind to everyone, easy to get along with and has definitely not a tragic past with family members that are either dead or in jail.

I am not allowed to be myself. I can’t make friends or form genuine connections. I must lie because no one really wants to know me. They say they do but will judge me a minute later.

I can’t tell them about my real hobbies because they are unconventional. I can’t tell them about my past, even if I have known these people for several years. They say they want to deepen our friendship, but I have experienced that they don’t want to hear about my true past:

I wanted to die when I was 5.

My father, an alcoholic, tried to kill my mother several times, chasing her with a knife around the apartment.

I can’t tell them that my mother was a hoarder.

I can’t tell them that I was depressed from age 12 to 23.

I have tried and failed several times. So I lie and keep things surface level.

I wish a had a best friend.

#cptsd recovery #living with cptsd #toxic parents #toxic family #core beliefs #healing #mental health #baby steps #its ok to not be ok #january 2024 #speaking my truth #people pleaser #boundaries #cptsd #trauma #trauma recovery

[nahalism]

how are you feeling? -

i have been contemplating on moving to france or africa. in my spirit, i feel very happy about it but when i have to think about financial reasons, i panic a little bit. starting everything all over again can be slightly scary.

but i have an aunty who has a stroke. myself and my brother look after. and it feels like we might be ungrateful if we move out and leave her because the extended family believe myself and my brothers have benefited from her(we pay no rent and she took us in like her own)- she’s my mum’s older sister.

i have been doing this since i was 15years. i’m 25. her son lives with us but he doesn’t do so much. (not to be rude) i told my family i want to relocate and they don’t seem so happy, especially my mum and other two brothers. i have three brothers but i live with one and my cousin.

i truly feel so happy and free when i’m in africa. maybe the reason why i want to move to france too is because my mum lives there. but idk, will i be ungrateful to want to relocate?

do you advise to relocate even if you don’t have enough savings? but ofc i’m on a job hunt at the moment (applying in paris and in africa) - a well paying position.

i am partially unemployed (if that’s the right way to say it) i have savings. enough for a good three months but i feel i could do better. i’m so hard on myself right now in terms of not having a stable job. i have a degree in education but sigh it’s been a bit stressful getting a job.

sometimes the voices of people become so loud, which leaves me doubting my own voice and makes me feel like my decision and feelings don’t matter so much. i seek for answers from others when i know the answer is within.

i apologise for having you absorb this.

hey angel. im blessed, ive been going through some life things i cant lie, but all in all have nothing to complain about

dont apologise for asking for another perspective <3. my only concern is that you feel the voices and opinions of others are so strong that you often dont hear your own voice. as such youve almost answered the question for me, because my voice/ my opinion, although objective is still just another voice to consider. the only persons feelings who matter are your own, so the true solution lies in the conclusion you come to when youve had some time and distance from the situation & can contemplate it clearly. ultimately i think you already know what you want to do. youve damn near planned your way to living in africa/paris lol. perhaps you came to me to affirm that choice so you'd feel less guilty making it?

you shouldnt feel guilty. there are so many factors at play here. theres the culture clash of african mentality (communal expectation, and obligation of youth to their elders) and western individualism (living ones own life primarily for ones self). as such the choice boils down to taking on imposed responsibility (against your will/desire and at the cost of your freedom) and having the choice to choose your own path and find joy doing it (yet sometimes this path leads to the illusion of freedom but not the attainment of it)

if ive understood that part correctly then id agree with you in saying its not an easy choice, however it still comes down to the decision you can live with making, not just today, but in the future. i personally have had to make similar choices, and its never as cut and dry as it seems. no one should be forced to carry a burden they dont want to, especially when the option isnt to share the burden (giving you and your brother a chance to live your own lives) but rather to shirk the responsibility entirely on to the two of you. the price for your auntie raising you and sustaining your life shouldn't be servitude to her, it should be the reward of actually getting to live your life. that is how you thank her sacrifice. moreover it was her choice, her sacrifice. not a binding contract. she gave to you because she found it in her heart to. simple as, if you know your grateful, theres nothing left to proove. — she has siblings and family (i assume, from what you wrote) who are enabled to stand on the outskirts because you are carrying the burden of responsibility that they refuse to carry. if they're happy to watch you sacrifice, and let you feel selfish for not doing so, its because you doing what your doing means they dont have to do it. if that is the case — why would they empower you to leave when it would mean more responsibility for them? im not saying this to belittle, or judge them, just to make it clear to you that you should not be listening to them, or their opinions because they dont have your interest at heart.

on the other hand, your auntie does have your interest at heart, (since she raised you). consider your relationship with her and what as an adult, you would like to give her. is that thanks through care & comfort now that she ms the one who needs care, or is it allowing others to step up and care for her (you've taken your turn for the past ten years) and pursuing prospects you wouldn't be able to take on as a carer for her and her situation? this is a decision that should be made out of truth. not guilt and consideration of the past. when your in bed at night in africa or paris, consider if you will sleep easy knowing the decision you made and your reasons for making it. its very possible you moving will allow you to blossom (being away from what sounds like a stressful family situation) and that could bring unforeseen profit to not only you but those you live and care for. perhaps you moving short term, is best for her and your family long term? only you know whats within you. if you aunty still has command of speech its worth sitting with her one on one, discussing what you feel and hearing her thoughts on it. if she can give you her blessing no more really needs to be said and you moving doesn't have to compromise your relationship.

a question that might help you find your answer: is you leaving running away to some extent? is there no way for you to be who you are freely from where you are? what you are, what you feel, the thing that drives you, it finds you wherever you are the world. so just try to ensure your making your choices from a place of understanding, not escape, because you cant outrun or escape whats within you. holidays bring different fantasies than moving.

there are times i chose myself and it paid dividends. to have chosen another would have meant repeating a cycle and i decided that i was here to break the cycle. so i found peace in that choice. there were other times i chose myself only to realise i have no self without those who came before me. staying helped me build and mend, and grow in character & self knowledge. staying was what broke the cycle. it brought peace, harmony and love where there was none.

i know i couldnt give a direct answer, but i know you have what it takes to find the right answer for yourself, and the courage to act on it and excel at whatever you choose. dont let people pressure you. dont let people bully you. live according to what you feel & what you know is right in your heart. sending you my love and big blessings <3:*

#ask

[ringsfullofdiamond]

11/22/22

writing out my thoughts because veronna suggested i do so. i want to start writing out some positive stuff, instead of always just writing my anxious and sad thoughts.

positive:

justin and i have been adjusting nicely in our place. things have been settling down more, and we’re getting in the swing of furnishing the apartment. everything is looking so nice so far, and living together has been really fun and easy. we’re both on the same page about everything, with cleaning, organizing, furnishing, etc. it’s been very peaceful and a nice pace. i’ve always grown to love cleaning and organizing, it’s super therapeutic and gratifying for me. i have this whole week off from work, so i’ve just been cleaning, cooking, baking, furnishing, and shopping. it’s been sooooo nice and relaxing. i’ve laid down a few times and just really sat in the peace of it all. not to mention the flowers i buy. they really brighten up the space & room. i’ve come to love interior designing so much, and it’s really nice to do it with justin by my side.

negative-ish brain dump:

thanksgiving is in two days, and i’m really nervous still. ton of thoughts go in my mind on how it’s going to go and i feel like i’m going to break out in hives. tbh, i don’t know why it matters to me so much. like why family judgment is just so offending but also nerve wracking and anxiety inducing. i think it’s because i’ve never really been a topic of gossip or scrutiny. i’ve always done things right, always casted a positive light on me. and i feel the projection from mom of course. she’s worried how me being with justin reflects on me, and ultimately her. and it’s ridiculous. there’s nothing wrong with justin objectively, he’s actually amazing. but the types of questions they’ll ask, the superficial things they’ll judge him on. the fact that he didn’t get a college degree & he’s short. it just feels unfair, but at the end of the day, what does it really matter if it’s unfair? like v says, who cares what they think? gossip is gossip; it’s not a reflection of me or justin, but rather my aunts and uncles. it’s what they do to feel better about themselves, to have something to idly chat about, to have a new topic of discussion. it does scare me. while i wish it didn’t, while i know it doesn’t matter, it scares me. i just hate being judged, and judged for no good reason. i don’t want that judgment to extend to justin. but i can’t let it be known or felt that i feel uncomfortable about the judgment. i think the more i own it and the relationship, the less of a big deal it is to them and ultimately me. it’s kind of like, not giving them a reaction when or if they question and ridicule the relationship. giving short, pleasant answers with a smile. showing that i’m relaxed and confident in my decisions. shows that i have ease and grace in my POV and they should get it too. and if they don’t.... whatever, right? 

the same mindset could be applied to friends who haven’t met justin yet. i do think about what ahran would think, knowing the way she is. she’s made comments about some of her gf’s and how their boyfriends don’t look that attractive. i’ve been guilty of making comments like this before, but i want to stop. because it really is hurtful and unnecessarily judgmental. nothing comes out of it. but yeah, she’ll prob see justin and just thinks he’s super short or not attractive enough, knowing her. but again, whatever. it’s my bf, not hers or anyone else’s. besides, everyone who’s ACTUALLY talked to and got to know justin know what a great person he is. introspective, thoughtful, observant, calm, and mature. he’s amazing. and those who can’t see that, like i say, is more of a reflection on them. i’ve always thought that if someone doesn’t like justin, it’s more of a reflection on them than him. because he doesn’t do anything wrong. in fact, he always does things right. rarely ever does he respond or react in a distasteful way. 

which brings me to some other anxiety.. i have to tell mom that justin didn’t get an AA. i feel ashamed that i said he did. in the spur of the moment, i told her that he did get one, and i think inside i felt some shame about the fact that he didn’t have one too. but i quickly realize that it really doesn’t matter and i actually don’t give a fuck. haven’t gave a fuck in a long while. my problem is i really internalize what other ppl think, and it sways my opinions. i’m pretty impressionable when i think about it, and not as grounded as i’d like to be. i want to keep working on it. but i’m reminding myself that if i have no issue or shame about j not having an AA, then that’s ALL that really matters. so i’ll let her know tomorrow on wednesday. 

i’m anxious about thanksgiving, but like i mentioned to v, it’s a few hours. it’ll pass, and life will move on. we will move on. justin and i will, and we’ll continue to live a lovely life full of laughter and pureness. you can’t control what people’s opinions are, what they say, what prejudices they have, and how they view you or justin or anyone else. but i can control how i respond. reminder to myself that if i feel uncomfortable or nervous or anxious, remind yourself it’s ok. this is a huge step outside of your comfort zone, and you should be proud of what you’ve been able to do so far. it’s nerve wracking to reveal you’ve been in this long relationship without family knowing, but fuck it man. it is what it is. it’s life. 

i’ve carried this anxiety with me since i told my parents about us, and it really hasn’t been easy. but it’ll GET easier. at the end of the day, when you start to doubt and get nervous, just remember what’s really important: my happiness. it’s my life, and i only got one. i’m going to do what i want to do, and that’s being with justin and living our best life.

wow i really brain dumped everything here. i do feel better and like a weight is off my shoulders a bit. and my mind is less filled to the brim with all of these negative thoughts. regardless of how the dinner goes, i hope i can look back at this entry down the line and see that everything is okay, and i’m okay. 

[rafescoke]

Obsessed ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: “Till death do us part.”

Warnings: Mutual toxic relationship! Rafe being overly obsessed with reader, heavy smut

A/N: 900 followers wtf ily <33 so sorry if this isn’t my best work :(

(Y/N) laughs as the feeling of his soft lips peppers her lower abdomen. It has always been so exquisite. She almost doesn’t want to let go.

“Rafe!” She sighs, throwing her head back. “We have to go to your sister’s birthday dinner.”

“Just stay,” he replies, trailing his wet kisses down to her thighs. She shivers from the tingling feeling in the pits of her stomach. “We don’t have to go.”

“Of course we do,” she answers, running her fingers through his hair. He groans when he feels a sudden tug, but he likes it.

“I have to make a good impression on Sarah and your parents, baby.”

“They can’t stop me from loving you,” he chuckles, finally parting from her skin and staring up at her (E/C) orbs.

How can someone look so magical?

“Rafe, come on,” she sighs, bending down to plant a kiss on his cheeks. “You can do anything to me tonight.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she nods, laughing slightly when he goes straight for her stomach again. “If you keep doing this I will leave you hanging tonight.”

He pulls away, groaning. “Okay, okay. Come on. Let’s go.”

Being in a relationship with Rafe Cameron feels so amazing yet surreal. She heard things about him before, how he was having a hard time trying to fight his anger issues and his addiction, but she always felt intrigued by his presence.

Every time she went to a party hosted by some kooks, her eyes will always meet his blue ones.

It felt like fate.

Rafe holds her hands in his as they walk down the carpeted floor to the big table filled to the end with their friends and a few family members.

“Woah, this is a big family,” (Y/N) smiles, tightening her grip around Rafe’s fingers.

“Rafe, you’re early today,” Ward greets, and (Y/N) smiles before Rafe pulls her to his back, as though shielding her from him. She quirks a brow.

“And this is (Y/N), I assume?” He asks, extending his hand out. (Y/N) smiles and wraps her hands around his.

“Yeah,” Rafe grunts, and pulls her back to his side.

“(Y/N), I’m glad you can join us,” Rose appears, her red lips pulled into a warm smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

(Y/N) looks up to Rafe, her heart beating. Did he tell them about her?

That’s the last thing she would ever guess from him.

“Hey, nice seeing you with Rafe, (Y/L/N),” Topper smiles, and Rafe watches as he helps her down to her seat. He raises a brow but decides against it.

“Hey, yeah,” (Y/N) replies, glancing at Rafe and back to Topper. “It’s nice seeing you here, Tops.”

Rafe’s hands travel to her thighs, tracing invisible circles whilst glancing around the table. He doesn’t feel like making any new conversations with anyone, and he definitely doesn’t appreciate the way Topper is more chatty with his girl than before.

Since when is Topper interested in the same girl as his?

His grip around her thighs tightens. Maybe it’s the annoyance from watching his own best friend flirting with her. Or maybe it’s the anger coursing in him when she does the same thing.

“Hey, you brought a girlfriend!” Sarah greets, bending down to give Topper a kiss on his cheeks. “(Y/N), right?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) replies, extending her hand to greet the blonde Cameron.

Always the crowd-pleaser, her.

The whole time the dinner sets out, Rafe can’t wait to just get the event over and bring his girlfriend home. He never wants (Y/N) to get closer to his family, and doesn’t intend to. The last thing he wants is for Sarah and (Y/N) to become best friends.

“Yeah, and then guess what?” Topper asks, waiting to drop the punchline. (Y/N) laughs at the enthusiasm, and then shakes her head.

“What?”

“I didn’t even get it!”

“What?” (Y/N) laughs, eyes shut and hands clutching onto her stomach. “You were never this funny, Tops. What happened?”

Here we go again with the Tops. Why is she even calling him that?

Rafe pulls her chair closer to his and whispers into her ear. She perks up from his hot breath. “Let’s go home.”

“We haven’t sung the birthday song, Rafe,” she sighs. “Come on, let’s just wait for another half an hour.”

And she returns back to Topper like he isn’t there.

Rafe stands up, scraping the linoleum floor of the restaurant as he did so. A few family and friends stare at him, but without giving them a glance, he pulls (Y/N) up with a grip around her arms.

“Rafe, ow! What are you doing?”

“We’re leaving, come on,” he grunts, retrieving his phone from the table and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Why? We’re not done yet?”

“Yo, man, what’s up?” Topper asks, being so confused after getting stopped midway of him trying to tell another story. “You haven’t seen the cake yet.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything and continues to pull her away to the exit. She moans from the tug in pain, but her expression is plastered with an apologetic look to everyone around the table. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” (Y/N) yells, prying his arms away from his grip and immediately starting to apply pressure to the pain. 

“I don’t like seeing the way you’re talking to Topper,” he finally speaks, walking straight toward his jeep. He stops after a few seconds, looking back to his shoulders to see if she’s following him, and resumes his walk when her angry face follows him.

“We’re just talking. Rafe, I don’t appreciate you pulling me away like this just because you’re jealous.”

He stops walking and turns back to look at her. “You were practically begging him to fuck you, (Y/N). Don’t you realize it?”

What. The. Fuck.

“Fuck you, I’m not getting into the car with you,” she says, slowly feeling hot tears filling up her eyes.

“You are, and that’s final. Get the fuck in.”

He steps closer to her, trying to get ahold of her, but she’s quick. She moves away, blocking his view of her face so he doesn’t see the tears that are streaming down her face.

He’s got way too far this time.

“(Y/N), get in. Let’s talk about this on the way home. Come on.”

She doesn’t move or say anything, but when Rafe finally engulfs her into a hug, she doesn’t let go. It’s crazy how he’s able to make her feel absolutely worthless yet needed at the same time.

“I’m sorry, baby. Get in the car with me?”

And she goes in after him.

. . .

Rafe has never discarded a girl’s clothing faster than he unclipped the hook of her bra.

(Y/N) sighs, still so sore from yesterday’s activity, but she wanted this more than before.

She had never thought about how hot her boyfriend looked when intoxicated, but after tonight’s party, all she wants is to have all parts of him.

Rafe helps her down to her knees, piling her (H/C) hair up into a high ponytail and letting her fingers wander around the waistband of his boxers. He throws his head back, the anticipation killing him.

“Quick, quick, come on,” he grunts, opening half of his eyes to see if they’ve got an audience. The bathroom seems deserted, and he looks down at her again.

She starts with her kitten licks on his tip, watching as he squirms and his breathing becoming heavier. She likes it like this; she feels totally in control.

“Don’t tease,” he groans, tugging her chin up so she can look into his eyes. “You know better, baby, come on.”

She takes him whole, and he can feel himself hitting the back of her throat. He groans, throwing his head back because the feeling still amazes him every time.

She grazes her teeth against his member, sending vibrations throughout his whole body and he has never felt this amazing before. He groans, stopping her movement with his hands before he could get sent into complete oblivion.

“What’s wrong?” she pouts, and that’s enough for Rafe to pick her up and throws her against the sink. She yelps, but her heart is thumping excitedly.

“Wait, wait, you can’t,” she whispers, holding his prying hands into a halt before he can touch her in the throbbing areas. She bites her lips, “I’m sore, remember?”

“I’m not gonna let you touch me without letting me touch you back,” he grunts. 

He wants all of her.

Please.

“Rafe, we can’t,” she chuckles, turning herself forward so she’s directly facing him. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” he whispers, pushing her against the door and letting her breath tickles his jaw. He can’t handle another few more hours of not touching her; he’ll go absolutely crazy in any minute.

His hand trails down to her aching core, and he watches as she jolts upright.

“Are you sure you don’t want this, baby?” he coos, “Because you’re wetting my hands.”

 (Y/N) attacks his lips with so much force he topples backward, and Rafe’s back hit one of the stalls’ door. He groans, feeling himself getting harder than ever, and pulls her away with his fingers around her neck.

“Do that again, and I’ll make sure this is the last time I’ll be fucking you.”

Before she can reply to his snarky remark he turns her over so her front is pressed against the door. She groans, cheeks flat against the blue door.

Rafe brings one hand slowly up to her neck while the other trails down to her core, collecting her juices with his fingers before he brings them up to her pink lips. He gets closer to her ears, his own mouth watering.

If she ever thinks he would stop, she’s completely in the wrong.

“So wet for me, baby,” he whispers, playing his fingers against her lips and watching as she struggles to taste herself. “So eager for me?”

“Please, Rafe, do something.”

Rafe groans, his cock swelling painfully. Oh, he loves listening to her pleas and her begs. He can come undone from all of that hassle.

Her own hands grab the one playing with her lips and bring it closer to her pussy, and she sucks in a breath while pressing his fingers into herself. Rafe bites his lips, being so close against her he’s basically fucking her through his pants.

She knows how to move against him, and it drives him crazy. His lips are slightly parted as he watches her fuck herself with his fingers, soaking his own digits with her juices. The bathroom is now filled with her lewd noises, and Rafe wishes this moment will never end.

“People are going to hear us,” she complains, but she doesn’t do any effort to stop his fingers from entering her. She throws her head back against his shoulder, and Rafe uses the opportunity to leave a trail of wet kisses down to her neck. 

“Let them,” he whispers. “Spread your legs, baby, come on.”

She doesn’t do anything, still so absorbed with the euphoric feeling starting to form in her stomach. Rafe groans, hating it when his requests are getting denied, and stops her hands from forcing his into her.

“Why’d you stop?” she moans, half annoyed when the familiar knot starts to dissipate into the thin air.

“You’re getting comfortable,” he replies, and before she can say anything else, his hands quickly pull her skirt up to reveal her glistening pussy under the orange lights of the bathroom.

“No panties?” he licks his teeth, waiting.

“Just making it easier for you,” she shrugs, and Rafe almost comes to his end at the sight of her all smug and proud. He wishes for nothing other than to wipe that look off her face, but he kind of likes it on her. 

Rafe pushes himself into her and hears as she squirms from his size. After so many times they had done the deed, he would have thought she would have gotten used to him. It gives him a certain pleasure when she does the same reaction when he first enters her.

Rafe pushes up one of her knees, widening her up, and starts going at her at a much faster pace. The sex with Rafe always ends up rough, but tonight’s leaves some kind of a different feeling in her.

“You like that?” he whispers, tightening his grip around her neck. “You feel so good around me, baby.”

She doesn’t reply, still so high from the exaltation as she presses herself more against him if that’s even possible to reach her high. She moans against his shoulder, shutting her eyes and feeling her hot tears wetting her cheeks.

“Mhm,” he grumbles. “I know baby, come on. Let me help you.”

Rafe’s orgasm explodes as he lets out the hottest moan ever, filling her up with his seed and feeling her clench around him. 

There is no doubt that this girl is absolutely driving him insane.

And he loves every part of it.

She melts into him as she reaches her high, head thrown back and lips parted, and Rafe involuntarily wipes the tears pooling under her eyes. She opens her eyes once she’s finally regained her balance, helping herself off Rafe and pulling her skirt down.

She places a soft kiss against his cheeks, feeling so tired she can pass out in the toilet. She walks to the sink with Rafe’s arms around her waist, still so unsure if she’s fit enough to walk on her own. 

She looks up at Rafe through the big mirror, watching as he stares down at her fingers under the running water.

“How do you know where I am?” she asks, tilting her head to one side. “How do you know I’m in the club?”

Rafe’s eyes go back to focus on her mesmerizing orbs. After a while, he answers back. “Why? Are you cheating on me?”

“You know it’s not like that, Rafe,” she sighs, closing the tap and pulling a cheap tissue paper from the side. “I’m here for my friend’s birthday party.”

He doesn’t reply, and she bumps her shoulder against his.

“You’re not stalking me, are you?”

Rafe pulls her against him and breathes into her scent, “Of course not. It’s just fate that I met you here.”

She caves in and pulls him in for another kiss. 

. . .

Is it normal to feel watched at all times?

The typing motion stares back at her as she tilts her head at the computer screen. She really doesn’t get it. 

Her phone vibrates against the dining table, and she answers the call without a glance at the name. 

“Hey!” 

“Hey, Tops? What’s up?” She greets, finally cracking a smile after a whole day of being worried over being watched. 

“I’m wondering if you’d like to help me out with a gift I bought for Sarah. You know, since you’re a girl.” 

She stays in her position, her mind fleeing back to a certain brunette she had just kissed an hour ago. 

Would he be okay with this? 

It’s not like she’s cheating on him. It’s just helping a friend out. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be at your house in a few minutes.” 

Rafe has been nothing but a sweetheart to her. There may be some times his issues accidentally slipped in, but she was gentle with him. She caressed him until he was okay again, and they never spoke of it again. 

She glances at the red mark around her arm from Rafe’s grip a week ago, and grimaces. 

“Hey, Tops, sorry I’m so late. I stopped by for gas just now.” 

Topper smiles, allowing her into his mansion and motioning her to the living room. A few gifts wrapped in purple and pink wrapping paper stare back at her, and (Y/N) widens her eyes. 

“Holy shit, you’re truly a great boyfriend.” 

Topper laughs, patting the empty seat beside him and pushing a small velvet box in her hands. “What do you think?” 

“Is this for Sarah?” She smiles, showing her pearly white teeth. Topper can’t help but notice the dimples on her face. 

“Yeah. Do you like it?” 

“Yeah, I love it,” she nods, moving the small box around to get a better view of the ring under the light. “She’s a lucky girl.” 

Two hours later, Topper holds the door open for her as she smiles at him. From a distance away, they look like a couple in love. 

It’s no surprise that a certain figure a few cars away is clenching his fist and jaw whilst staring at the two of them. 

“Thanks, (Y/N), you’re the best,” Topper sighs, pulling her into a side hug. “Give Rafe a hug for me, yeah?” 

(Y/N) laughs, pushing his shoulders playfully and walking down the steps to her own car. “I always know there’s something between you two.” 

She doesn’t feel like driving back home and decides to stop by at an ice cream place to get herself a milkshake, even when it’s already 10 p.m. 

She likes it when she’s all alone on the island at this time of the day as she’s free to do anything she wills. She drives straight to the store, oblivious to the black jeep following her from behind. 

“Can I get an oreo milkshake?” She smiles, watching as the cashier nods and goes back to the back to make her milkshake. She opens her phone, and taps on the first name on her contact. 

Hey, I miss you :) 

A few seconds later, her phone dings. 

Rafe: Did you have fun? 

“Your milkshake.” 

(Y/N) jolts up to the sudden voice, and smiles apologetically at the cashier before getting her drink. 

Have fun? What? 

“You didn’t reply to my text.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rafe!” She exclaims, holding her hand out for support on the counter. She glances at the cashier, but he seems to be in the back again. “What are you doing here?” 

Rafe looks down at her and god, she has never felt so small than ever. She gulps and places her drink down, because this is slowly starting to make sense. 

“Rafe, are you stalking me?” 

He doesn’t reply, but it’s enough for (Y/N) to turn on her heels back to her car. 

The constant feeling of being watched. The random motions outside of her window and the pair of eyes she felt everywhere when she was out with some friends. 

“Wait, wait, (Y/N)!” He groans, pulling her hands and halting her walk. “Please don’t leave, okay?” 

“How can you do this? Don’t you trust me enough?” She yells. His jaw tightens, and she involuntarily takes a step back. “Rafe, you’re scaring me.” 

“I’m just protecting you, alright?” He grunts, “And what the fuck are you doing at Topper’s house?” 

Oh. So this is what everything’s about. 

“None of your business,” she shoots back, and with a final thrust, she frees herself from his grasp. 

Rafe laughs, wetting his lips. Before she can say anything else, he pushes her against her car door and watches as she squirms. 

“You’re my fucking girlfriend, of course it’s going to be my business.” 

There’s no way out of this, not when everything she’ll say will be regarded as a lie. Unless. . .

“Yeah, I fucked Topper,” she whispers, cheeks pressed against the cold metal surface of her car. “Is that what you want to hear?” 

“Hm,” he sighs, and flips her over in a swift. She yelps, having to face him directly now, and all of her brief confidence dissipates into the air. 

“Wanna say it again?” He whispers, his lips so close to her skin she can feel his heat. 

She stares into his eyes again, feeling so scared now that he’s got her cornered, but the exciting feeling growing inside of her seems to outweigh all her fear. 

“I fucked your best friend.” 

“Wrong answer,” he answers, and pulls the car door open before pushing her in. 

Rafe’s lips attach themselves against her collarbones as she grunts softly, pulling on his hair and fighting against every energy in her to push him away. 

But she seems struck by his touch again. She can’t let go. 

“Wanna get so smug on me again?” He groans, fingers trailing down to the button of her jeans before he pops it open. 

(Y/N) throws her head back against the seat, so engulfed in the feeling she doesn’t ever wanna let him go. Rafe notices the change in her behavior, and god knows how much it riles him up. 

“Beg.” 

“Rafe,” she grunts, “Don’t play with me right now.” 

Her hands reach for his fingers, but he slaps her hands away. 

“Do that again and I’ll fucking kill you, (Y/N), I swear to fucking God.” 

(Y/N) bites her lips, because a death threat shouldn’t leave her all perked up. 

“Please,” she whispers. 

“You know I’ll take care of you, right? And you’re going to let me take care of you. Can you do that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Don’t see Topper again—” he tugs on her chin, “—or I’ll fucking kill you for real.” 

“Okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she nods eagerly. “Please, baby, touch me?” 

He chuckles and bends to her eye level, watching as she tries to contain herself. 

“Till death do us part?”

“Rafe—”

He grips her thigh, “Till death do us part?” 

“Till death do us part.” 

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

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[dropsofletters]

runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette  —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader  —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au  —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1)     Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2)    Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3)    Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette.  A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is…everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

### 

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure. 

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

### 

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had. 

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1)   Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2)   Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3)   Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###  

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women. 

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###  

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.” 

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###  

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust. 

### 

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

### 

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

[writerbuddha]

Hey

Your blog is interesting. I do see where you're coming from in regards to Buddhism attachment and the Jedi and stuff. I do agree about them having no choice but to enter the war because of the implications. Although the Clones are legally slaves as they are considered possessions of the State. The Jedi might have respected them and not persoanlly enslaved them, but neither fact changes their status. However, I can see the other side as well. I understand why people have an issue with the whole "attachment" thing and how its applied. I mean the Jedi are in the right for joining the Clone Wars, despite the status of Clones, yet Anakin is bad and wicked and selfish and greedy for wanting to help his enslaved mom. The implication that leaving her to rot in slavery or die alone, scared and in agony at the hands of the Tuskens was the more "moral" or Jedi thing to do is very problematic for a lot of people. Or, the idea that he should have left his 14 year old Padawan to suffocate under rubble because rescuing her means he's "selfish and greedy" is similarly problematic. I think that both run contrary to the ethical code that many of us are raised with. The idea that you should help people, especially children, no matter what and never turn your back on a friend.

Sorry if this is a long ask and I don't mean to offend anyone.

Hey!

You said nothing offensive. I hear you.

That’s run contrary to my ethical code as well.

Anakin wasn’t bad, wicked or selfish or greedy for wanting to help his mom, leaving her in slavery wasn’t a moral or a Jedi thing to do at all. Nor that he should have left Ahsoka to die, wanting to rescue he wasn’t made him selfish. What you described is, at full extent, falls into the category of compassion, non-attached love. And that is genuine love, wanting others to be happy and free from suffering, covering what you described, helping people, especially children, no matter what and never turn your back on a friend.

I firmly believe the “attachment” thing is problematic because the majority of fans are not fully aware of the meaning of the concept. Attachment as George Lucas described it is inability to let go, possession, owning, having, getting, grasping, holding on. This is identical to the Buddhist use of the term. Because reality is temporary, things will come, things will go, everything is temporary. People, beauty, youth, money, everything will slide, at one time, they are in your life, and in the other time they move away from you. While they are in your life, love them. But you can’t attach to them in the other meaning of the word: “fastening” and an “external part attached to perform a particular function.” You must learn to let go, because if you can’t do it, you and your loved one both going to suffer. And the problem with attachment is that it’s always about you, it’s more the love of the self than the love of the beloved. You want to keep people around, because they make you happy. You won’t lose them because then you will suffer from you not having them. And this is why it is selfish and greedy. And because we all want everlasting joy, if you are attached, you will become afraid of losing your attachments, and it will lead you on a very dark path, ending in hate. And you will suffer, because you will spend your life being afraid, being angry, hateful. And that’s what Yoda was talking about, and that’s what they sensed in him about Shmi: “You afraid of losing her.” And that’s what Luminara said to him in that Clone Wars episode: “It’s not that I gave up, Skywalker, but unlike you, when the time comes, I am prepared to let my student go. Can you say the same?”

Listen to how Lars and Anakin say their final goodbye to Shmi: Lars last words to her: “Thank you.” Anakin’s last words to her: “I miss you so much.”

Whereas Shmi had non-attached love: her love for Anakin wasn’t how happy he makes her, but how happy Anakin is. And that’s why she was able to let him go. I’m always saying, Shmi is a “lay Jedi”.

Luminara is “at ease” when Barriss life is in danger, but I think it’s very important to notice that she always saying, she didn’t want Barriss to die, or she doesn’t care or she gave up. That’s why I don’t like Dave Filioni’s take on that episode, but he said it’s his personal reading, so I respect it. But I disagree. The problem is that many of us were almost encouraged to panic or fall to atoms in times like this, and the majority of movies and tv shows are outright glorifying hysteria as a measure of love. Ahsoka and Barriss wasn’t saved because Anakin started to run around in full panic mode, but because Ahsoka was able to come up with a plan. Luminara wasn’t giving up, nor she didn’t care that much about Barriss, but she accepted the fact that they might be too late, so she started to prepare herself for the worst. “If my Padawan has perished, I will mourn her, but I will celebrate her as well through her memory.”

The Jedi are trained to love people, but not to get attached to them, which is non-attachment – compassion. When you are compassionate, your love for your loved one, their happiness, their freedom from suffering gives you the feeling of being complete, gives you joy. And this is everlasting, because death can interrupt having, but not love. So it’s saying, I love you, so I want you to be free from suffering and I want you to be happy.” It’s genuine concern for others, manifesting itself in active engagement. But there is no fear of you losing, because you don’t have. When you love people, you won’t be afraid. You will be concerned for them, but that’s entirely focused on them, not on yourself. You can’t fear of the pain you will experience when you losing them. That’s a selfish desire for you keeping things and people who bring you joy. Attachment will make you afraid, what will make you hate and suffer.

And this kind of love can extend to all beings, even to their enemies. "don't lose a thousand lives just to save one" however, doesn't mean you must sacrifice your loved ones for the sake of others. The key is always that you should act out of compassion. Not out of fear of losing, the fear of not having.

Why the Jedi didn’t go to Tatooine to liberate slaves, that’s another question, but not because Anakin wasn’t allowed to care about his mother. A Jedi is a negotiator, ambassador, who is not going to war. They were not going to war until Attack of the Clones, as Lucas said, because they are not aggressive force. I always saw that their logic is that If they would go to Tatooine and liberate all slaves, they would have to fight a war against Jabba, pirates, the hutts, the crime empires etc. That’s not what they do. They did it once with Zygerria, but back then they weren’t alone, the Republic actually wanted to uphold its values, they made Zygerria to comply. But with the Republic corrupted, the Jedi wasn’t enough at all to uphold peace and justice. If the Republic would have function properly, they would enforce their laws on Tatooine, but the Republic didn’t care about them, so they didn’t have the support to function, too. They were overwhelmed, and they are not super people. Without the Republic, they go to Tatooine, defeat Jabba, then leave to help others. When they come back, there is a new Jabba, because free people on Tatooine didn’t really care and the Republic didn’t really care. All what happens is that they lose lives. But with the Clone Wars, all the galaxy caught fire, so they had to go to war anyway.

I am more than willing to accept that the Jedi wasn’t perfect, and I have to admit, I am glad to see that when people believe they advocated abandoning friends or family, they reject them so fiercely. But I can't help but think, their morals, choices and situations are often misunderstood. For example, I can't find any good reason why the Jedi wouldn't want to pursue the Senate to give the clones citizenship when the war was over. On the contrary. Their portrayal requires them to do so. Like Lucas said, they had good intentions, and they are going to war to save as many as they can. In the Clone Wars, you can see they care about clones as much as they care for non-clones.

Sorry for the even longer reply! XD I hope it's useful.

[kikyan]

How do you think the yanderes (Wei wuxian, lan xichen, jiang Cheng) would react to their daughters hating them? For an example seeing their mother (aka darling) crying because of what the Yandere was doing👀

Why are you requesting for the characters with severe mommy issues 

But of course I’ll write it! Let’s see. . . starting with Wei Wuxian! 

ALSO HAD THIS IS MY DRAFTS AND LEGIT DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS ALMOST DONE UNTIL I CHECKED I AM SO SORRY

Again, like I’ve mentioned countless times, I don’t like to split up Wangxian so this will be a poly relationship! 

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wanji 

For starters, this is one of the tamest yanderes you could be with if you listen. If you follow their few requirements you’ll forget that you were even kidnapped, they’re very chill but. . .let’s say that you didn’t listen to them. It was simple, stay within the house perimeters and don’t go out. The entire Lan Clan is happy with you being here for the two and happily welcomed your daughter. I can already see WWX and LWJ shedding tears at the birth/adoption of your daughter. Their newest addition to the family! 

Once they were brought in, rules were added for both your protection and your daughter! Think of if with the Lan brother’s and their mother. She was given a home but could not leave it. You could walk around the entire sect, you just couldn’t leave. Well, that’s exactly what you did and you got punished for it. They were really disappointed with your behavior but I think what hurt them the most would be seeing your daughter upset. 

Maybe they weren’t harsh on you, but you were scared of the possibility of them being angry. It’s been like that for years. You know they’d never hurt you but you were scared of being left alone because I do see isolation or maybe WWX calling up a ghost for scares might be a usual punishment to make you realize, you NEED them. Anyways, your daughter is exposed to this, it doesn’t take long to realize that this behavior isn’t exactly ideal. The next time they scare you or lead you into a panic your daughter stands up. She talks about how she can’t have a stable relationship with either of them because she knows that they’re bullying you. They are hurting you, they are causing you distress and to them, it’s an eye opener. 

WWX and his biological family are unknown, but the family that he had with the Jiang Clan meant the world to him. He can’t stand the fact that his own child hates him and neither can LWJ. LWJ cherished the time he spent with his mother, so to some degree, the both can see what their daughter means and realize, it’s time to change. The both come to terms that they should listen to what their daughter says because they don’t want their child to grow up motherless or to some extend, feel like they grew up too quickly with shit parents. 

WWX would opt to separate the two of you for the time being. Give one another time to heal and then properly apologize for what has happed. Bringing together the entire family and talking the situation and striving to change. Granted as their daughter gets older they might add some rules towards them to protect of course. LWJ would try his best to show his daughter their logic and reasoning, but I feel like maybe he’s emotionally manipulate his daughter, tell her of their upbringing and why being a parent is a hard task. 

Jiang Cheng

Aside from the angst I’m about to spill I know for a fact that his daughter would be best friends with Jin ling and he wouldn’t grow up sad because his daughter would stand up for him when they bully him for it. 

Just like his relationship with Jin Ling, he’d love to show emotion but he feels like that would be weakness. He has strict rules on you for sure and those same rules apply to your daughter as well. He’s scared to lose the both of you without a doubt, but does he have to say such harsh words? It almost sounds as if he doesn’t even want you around! His daughter doesn’t waste any time in speaking against him. Sure, growing up with someone like that is tough, because you were somewhat scared of him, but this is about their mother! 

They speak their concerns and thought to Jiang Cheng it doesn’t seem like it means a lot to him considering he dismissed his daughter away, the thought lingers in his mind. He does this to protect his family, both his parents are dead, yanli is dead, and he can never face Wei Wuxian again because of what happened. He understands where they are coming from though, its the same with his mother. His mother loved and cared for him, she had a rough time expressing it and a rough way, but all he ever wanted was his mothers approval. This is where it gets interesting, it will take time but he’ll start slowly changing. 

He’ll let himself indulge in certain feelings from now on. Making it easier on his daughter so she doesn’t try to seek his approval, but he also awaits the moment he can hold your hand and admit his love for you. He loves you and his proud of you and your daughter, but he’s so afraid that the moment he looks away or seems weak, someone will come in and take you away from him like the Wen Clan took his family. 

Lan Xichen

I think I mentioned that worst case scenario your child will live separately from you if things went south, but let’s say it did. Your child only gets a few hours of visitation a couple of days until you start craving more. Lan Xichen uses this tactic to make it so that you plead and beg him to bring you back to him. Your child catches on to this and tries to negotiate with him. He sees her side and begins to think, she’s right. As much as he knows that his plan WILL work, he’s been thinking of breaking you down for a perfect family instead of trying to create a perfect family. Well he did raise a smart girl after all. 

It would have been a shock to him when his daughter comes to tell him. She hates what he’s doing to you because it’s not good. It’s not normal and he’s going to break this family if he keeps trying. I honestly see his daughter attempting to manipulate him into releasing you or changing his behavior towards you. While he doesn’t fall for the manipulation because he finds it amusing, he does come to understand her side and agrees. He starts to see that he enjoys a family who is together as opposed to one that is far away. 

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere #yandere anime #yandere anime headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere fanfiction #yandere mdzs x reader #yandere mdzs #yandere mdsz #yandere wei wuxian x reader #yandere wei wuxian #yandere wei ying #yandere lan wangji #yandere lan wangji x reader #yandere lan zhan #yandere jiang cheng x reader #yandere jiang cheng #yandere lan xichen #yandere lan xichen x reader

[endobiologist]

Trans Guy Tips #4; Socially Transitioning

Now this one is a tricky one, and it's a situation almost every trans person has to go through at some point in their life, unless they stay in the closet for life, but if you're planning to come out, and you don't know how to approach the situation and don't know how to judge if it's safe, I hope I can be a reliable guide for you on this journey.

This is usually the first step in any trans person's journey, before they physically transition, (which some don't as well). However here we're talking specifically about trans men.

So while some of the things I say could apply to trans women, always remember I'm writing about trans men from a trans man's point of view, so that's the targeted demographic here.

Once I learn more about trans women's struggles and things they go through, since I don't have the personal experience of it, I will definitely write trans women articles as well, and as well non-binary people.

So let's begin, with a list of important things to keep in mind whilst coming out to the world or at least to your family and close friends.

1. Safety is everything.

Always no matter what.

A good way to test if someone is going to be safe to come out to, is to casually bring it up in in a conversation topic, something like "What are your thoughts on lgbtq people, or specifically what are your thoughts on trans people?"

If they become aggressive and violent about it, and start being transphobic or defensive or any of the signs of bigotry, do not and I mean do not come out to them yet.

If it's a parent, I'd suggest at least wait until you're of age to move out, or have moved out, to come out to them. Sometimes people will get verbally and physically violent towards you if you come out to them and they're not accepting of it, so the most important thing is to always judge the reactions of people, and if they react well, then you can come out to them.

2. Always choose trustworthy people to keep your secret whilst you're in the closet.

There's been a lot of people who trusted idiots who they thought were their friends and they ended up outing them to the whole school they were in, etc. etc. But there was a lot of stories about this happening multiple times.

Make sure the people you tell would take the secret to their grave, especially if you're in an abusive household and can't come out for fear of violence.

3. If you're in a very abusive household, especially one that's openly homophobic and transphobic, as hard it is, please wait to come out as long as you possibly can until you have a place of your own and you're safe for sure.

A lot of people have been known to kick out their own children on to the streets because of them being LGBT, or do much worse...

Now of course these are some of the worst case scenarios, but being LGBT you always have to think about every bad thing that could occur so that you can prevent it.

4. When it comes to actually coming out, I would always recommend bringing a good friend or close family member who supports you, so that you have backup, not only for them to chime in and tell their piece and defend you, but just them being there makes the other person not want to be as violent towards you, because they fear what others will think of them.

If you're coming out to an extended family member or anyone, don't trust to do it alone, always bring a good friend.

5. One of the best ways to come out that I've seen are ways that are jokey and hilarious!

It seems to smooth over and make it a much more pleasant transition for everyone, and usually even homophobic people won't get too mad, they might even laugh!

I've seen people bake cakes with the words "Surprise I'm gay!" on it, things like that.

Just little cute things that are nice to do for your parents or people you're coming out to, but make it a surprise and that you're actually lgbt!

Now remember though, always follow the first rule and make sure safety is priority, but if you know you're safe, but you're just not sure they understand, starting out with jokes helps a lot.

6. The second step you should do after coming out is always try to explain your side of the story.

If there are people who don't let you get a word in, let them know that you have important things to say and that they need to listen to you and then they can say whatever they need.

Explain how it feels to be trans, explain why you know you're trans, of course you shouldn't have to ideally, but unfortunately a lot of people won't understand unless they're given more information, as the subject is completely foreign to them.

I know my grandma specifically reacted so well, all she did was ask me questions about it, and once I answered all her questions, she hummed in satisfaction and she never questioned it again and completely accepted me.

And a lot of times you'll get people who are pretty neutral, people who will call you by your chosen name and gender but don't really totally care as much as you want them to, but they still go along with it and just kind of assume you know what's best for you, which is a really kind thing really.

I've had a few people react neutrally and it's actually relaxing, there's no pressure put on for being gay, either over positive or over negative. but I have to say as a trans person and gay person, and grey-ace person, I love the people who ask questions the most.

I don't mind answering, and it means they're trying to learn more about something they don't understand, which means they have a huge heart and huge open mind.

Some people may get annoyed at the constant questions, but I absolutely adore them.

To me, every time someone asks about me, they're showing interest in my life and my feelings.

7. Next the scientific method.

Look up on any scientific article anywhere, and you'll find studies done on trans men and women's brains.

It was shown factually multiple times, over and over, whenever they repeated it it did it again, that trans men have the same brain structure as cis men, and trans women have the same brain structure as cis women, and non-binary people have somewhere in the middle. This was factually proven, you can look it up, so if they try to use science to defend against you, educate that that science is actually for LGBT rights and has explained how it works even.

8. Try to be gentle when it comes to pronouns.

For a lot of people, especially people of foreign languages where some languages don't have genders, or will have different genders, or other things like that, or even just English speakers that aren't used to saying 'they', or your family not being used to your pronouns yet.

It can take a while, and I know it's frustrating, it could take even a few years for them to finally get it right every time.

It's not supposed to be an attack towards you, it's genuinely hard to reprogram yourself when you think someone is one thing your whole life and then it turns out they're the other thing! So be sure to be gentle with them while they're practising, remind them every time they make a mistake, but remind them gently, as they are trying to do the right thing, they're just slipping up due to habit.

In general, be patient with non-lgbt folks, if we're mad at them, it just drives them away, rather than driving them toward us to help and assist us.

We should be grateful for our allies.

9. Once you've come out and your parents probably still have questions, I would recommend sitting down and having family night where you read together some good articles about transgenderism, and LGBT+ in general.

If they're not familiar with it, this type of education can help them a lot to understand the terminology and how to address you, and basic respect for trans & lgbtq+ people.

Overall it's a learning experience for both of you, and it would be amazing to do if they're willing to learn.

Remember that it's a journey for all of us, and everyone has a lot to learn.

10. When selecting your name, I have one piece of advice/a question for you; "Does it spark joy?"

The most important thing, it doesn't matter how odd sounding it is, or differently spelled it is, or whatever your name is, if you enjoy your name, that's what matters.

Always pick the one that calls out to you.

And it's okay to change it from time to time, people need time to figure out who they are!

And with that, I conclude my fourth part!

I hope you were helped by this in any way, and thanks for reading.

#trans man #transguy #trans boy #transgender #trans ftm #ftm trans #trans male #ftm #ftm tips #transgender tips #transgender guide #ftm guide #lgbtqa #lgbtq #lgbt #trans guy tips #social transition #trans guy guide #coming out

[redphlox]

How Touya can be Saved

I’ve talked before about why I think Shouto will save Touya, and now I want to talk about how. No doubt saving the eldest Todoroki child will be a combined family effort, but I want to specifically talk about Shouto’s role in this because it will be the culmination of his character arc. I also want to tie in how Dabi can make himself seen and understood by crying tears of blood in front of his family. Finally receiving validation after desperately needing it his entire life will be the key to his salvation.

As of chapter 298, Shouto already empathizes with Touya; he feels Touya’s hate and even recognizes Dabi is the person Shouto himself was before the Sports Festival. Shouto is extending his empathy and understanding to his brother the same way he reacted to Iida during the Stain arc in chapter 53, “Todoroki to Iida.”

Having empathy for Dabi’s resentment is only the first step in reaching him, though. That shared rage doesn’t completely validate Dabi’s pain as an abuse victim, which is something Shouto has yet to recognize about himself. Shouto’s anger has always been about how Endeavor abused Rei to the point she had to be institutionalized and not how Endeavor isolated him, physically abused him, and robbed him of his childhood. Shouto probably hadn’t stopped to think about how the other Todorokis perceived their family situation because, like most families in this situation, no one talked about the abuse - Shouto even expresses surprise and agreement in 192 when Natsuo confronts Endeavor with the entire family’s pain. Shouto thinks back to the memory of wanting to play with his siblings and realizes that specific day didn't only stay with him but that his siblings remember it and were impacted by it, too.

Like Natsuo, Dabi knows the root cause of their family’s dysfunction was Endeavor, and while he had a problem with what he perceived as each individual member’s blindness to their abuse, he ultimately doesn’t blame the victims and instead assigns all the blame onto Endeavor. Even 10 years later, he still calls Rei ‘okaasan’, Fuyumi ‘Fuyumi-chan’, and Natsuo ‘Natsu-kun’ because he still cares about them and recognizes all of them as victims of a corrupt hero who never set out to be a husband and a father and only used them.

However, Touya's own victimhood has never been validated - in 301 and 302, it was seen that he was the scapegoat for his family, and no matter how much he tried to earn back his father’s approval or call his father out on his unfair treatment, no one was ever on Touya’s side. His mother told him to look away from his father as an example instead of standing up to Endeavor for herself and her children, and Fuyumi and Natsuo were too young to understand and couldn't relate to what Touya went through as Endeavor's prized heir. Touya needs validation that he was abused and neglected. He always has. He still does.

The person in the perfect position to understand what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Endeavor’s impossibly high standards, obsession with surpassing All Might, and quirk training is Shouto. But in order to fully empathize with Dabi and show his brother that he can relate, Shouto needs to acknowledge that he too was a victim. In 292, Dabi basically asks Shouto to validate the pain and suffering Dabi had just exposed in the battlefield, but his question still stands unanswered.

To reach Touya, Shouto also has to show Dabi what kind of person he is - as in, Shouto has to separate himself from Endeavor’s shadow and establish that he too has been holding Endeavor accountable for his actions. We as readers know that Shouto’s entire character arc has been about asking himself, “Who am I?” Often, children who grow up in abusive households struggle with their identity and Shouto is a perfect example of this. This is why he chose his hero name to be his name: Shouto. He’s learning who he is after years of trying so hard to not be his father and becoming exactly like him - cold, distant, tunnel visioned, hateful. It wasn't until he met Inasa that he realized this and wanted to right his wrongs.

Like Inasa, Dabi doesn’t know Shouto at all. Both Inasa and Dabi knew Endeavor and assumed Shouto would be just like him. Inasa had a valid reason to think this of Shouto of course, because Shouto was standoffish and dismissive during the UA entrance exams, but at the time of the provisional license exam Inasa hadn’t learned that Shouto had recognized this toxic side of himself and had begun working towards the kind of person he wants to be. Shouto had to show Inasa the real him, and in a similar way, he will have to prove this to Dabi. Dabi hasn’t seen Shouto struggle with his identity like we the readers have; Dabi only sees his usurper making headlines and willingly interning with Endeavor. He probably assumes Shouto is proudly training to carry their father’s legacy. Dabi isn’t privy to the nuanced relationship Shouto or their siblings have with their father. All Dabi knows is that Endeavor is seeing and paying attention to Shouto and Shouto seemingly submitting. Dabi has no idea THIS is how it really is:

Showing others who he is is a way for Shouto to process his own trauma and establish his identity. As the son of the #2 hero, Shouto has always had to prove himself to others - that he’s not his father. He’s even had to prove this to himself by accepting his fire side and making it his own in spite of his father repeatedly calling him a creation or a masterpiece. Not being like his father is such a defining trait for Shouto that he feels compelled to tell kindergarteners during the re-licensing exam his life story and his trauma. He literally bore his heart out to these kids because he knew he wouldn’t get through to them unless he was genuine. I think he’ll apply this concept to Touya, too.

The thing about Shouto is that, while he hasn’t reconciled with his own status as an abuse victim, he sees himself as a survivor. He sees himself as someone who managed through a difficult situation and wants to help others get through their struggles too. That's why getting through to these kids was so important to him, why he took it so seriously. These were problematic kids, and instead of calling them brats or trying to intimidate or manipulate them, he tries to get down to their level and relate. Notice he emphasizes how much he struggled in school at first, how his relationship with his father is strained - in his mind, it's something these kids may be able to relate to.

Shouto is someone who sets out to understand and make others feel seen and understood. It's what makes him kind. Shouto probably understands why his father abused the entire family - Endeavor's reasons don't excuse him or earn his children's forgiveness, but it's a reason that humanizes him to Shouto. He himself was a cold, bitter person who now believes people can change if given the right opportunity and self-awareness because this is a lesson he's learned from Midoriya and Inasa. This is also something Shouto can grant Touya: understanding, a listening ear, space to be wrong, and a chance to be seen.

Touya wanted and still craves to be seen, and he has to see in return. He has to realize Shouto isn't his father's puppet. He has to relate to Shouto much like Shouto is relating to him. Shouto will have to pull the same move he pulled on those kindergarteners and tell Dabi his struggles, and then show him he’s making his own path different from their father’s and that the family isn’t blindly following Endeavor anymore or letting him do what he wants. Natsuo has stood up to him, Rei has stood up to him, Fuyumi has admitted to herself she had been trying to play a happy family instead of fixing the internal mess - they as a family will have to show Dabi all of this, and he’ll have to wrap his head around it. He has to realize that his family is different from how they were 10 years ago. This is what I mean by allowing Touya space to be wrong - it’s okay for him to be wrong in assuming all these things about Shouto. Shouto won’t judge him for it.

I've talked before about how the narrative framing as of chapter 309 has set up that a person must express their feelings in a socially acceptable manner before they can be a candidate for saving, and that means crying. As soon as Midoriya saw a glimpse of little Tenko crying, he switched his mentality from "I'll never forgive you" to "I want to save that crying boy." When Toga ran away from Ochako crying, Ochako became concerned and curious. Following this pattern, it makes sense that Dabi also has to show his emotions, but it’s complicated because he can’t cry due to his burnt tear ducts. Every time we’ve seen him cry tears of blood, he’s been alone - he’ll have to cry in front of Shouto and the family for it to sink in that all of Dabi’s destruction and hate stems from deep-seated sorrow and feelings of abandonment. The family does not yet know how the fire that killed Touya started, and they have no idea that Touya’s emotions are linked to his fire and that he died because he was feeling overwhelmingly forsaken and sad. Once they find out, however, they’ll fully understand Touya (hopefully) and recognize they haven’t been understanding him at all. Saving Touya will be difficult because he has to be vulnerable and that's not something he's done as Dabi, but that's where the Todoroki family arc is headed: healing as a family.

As a side note: I’m not saying that the message the manga is giving is the correct one (how you express yourself shouldn’t be a determinant of the help you receive) but it’s what we have to work with. I also think saving Touya will be more complicated than this and will also involve Natsuo, but that’s a meta for another day! ;]

#bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #shouto todoroki #my meta #inasa yoarashi #bnha spoilers #Bnha meta #Mha #mha spoilers

[arvinsescape]

Meet mum.

A/N: I do not think Nikki would be like this. Written for entertainment purposes only. As always hope you enjoy! I only changed the setting of the request.

Based on this request:  Hey I was wondering if You could do a Tom imagine where he brings the reader home to meet his parents and brothers but his mum don’t like her and judges her but Tom gets angry and sticks up for her ect.

Warnings: Language.

W/C: 2.5K. Wow how’d this get so long?

To say you were nervous too meet Tom’s family was an understatement. The only member of his family that you had officially met was his brother Harry, who you got on with really well. You were going to a restaurant in town, completely Tom’s idea, he was adamant that it was time you met the rest of his family and you were excited but also nervous.

You finished up getting ready and made your way downstairs were Tom and Harry were waiting.

“Sorry, I just needed to finish my hair off. It wasn’t cooperating.” You said as Tom grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket. He moved towards, placing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“That’s alright darling, we’ve got loads of time. You look beautiful by the way.”

“You look so nervous Y/N! Lighten up, my family are amazing, I’d say you’ve met the worst of us when you met Tom.” Harry laughed as he took in your tense posture.

“Oi! Don’t start already, you only get worse when Sam is with you.” Tom laughed as he gave Harry a light slap to the back of the head. “He’s right though love, they’re lovely, they’ll love you.” Tom reassured you with a smile as he grabbed your hand and you all made your way to the car.

**

The drive to the restaurant was quite relaxed, making your nerves die down slightly and you mostly had Harry to thank for that. He was consistently making jokes in order to settle your nerves. As you pulled up you realised that you were the first ones to arrive, having not spotted anyone else’s car. You made your way in, taking your seats at the large table, looking at all the empty seats, reminded you just how big Tom’s family was, and the nerves came back quicker than they’d settled.

“Sorry I’m late! Didn’t finish work on time!” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the male as he approached the table, this was Harry’s twin Sam, that much was obvious. “You must be Y/N! I’ve heard a ridiculous amount about you.” Sam teased as he pulled you into a hug. “Sam, the better twin and superior brother.” He joked as he punched Tom’s arm before hugging him too. Okay maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is going to be a long dinner then?” Tom groaned as he watched the twins greet each other. You engaged in small conversation as you waited for his parents and final brother to arrive. It wasn’t too long after that they did. Paddy making his way over first.

“Hey guys!” Paddy said as he approached the table, taking a seat next to Sam.

“You won’t get a hug from him Y/N. He’s a typical teenage boy, I’m sure stuff like this has inconvenienced his night somehow.” Harry laughed as he watched Paddy pull his phone from his pocket.

“Shut up Harry! You were a teenager once you know. Hi Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Paddy said as he offered you a small smile.

“Where’s mum and dad?” Tom asked as he furrowed his brows.

“Dad was parking the car and mum went straight to the loo, they won’t be long.” Paddy answered, more interested in his phone than the conversation. You laughed at his typical teenage response to social events, reminding you of how you were at that age. Just after he’d said it you watched another man arrive at the table, presumably Tom’s dad.

“Y/N, this is my dad Dom. Dad this is Y/N” Tom said as he got up to hug his dad. You stood up as well extending your hand for him to shake unsure of what he would have expected as a first response, a hug would be too much maybe?

“It’s nice too meet you.” You said shyly. Dom laughed as he pulled you into a hug, startling you at first.

“We’re huggers if you hadn’t already gathered. Well, everyone except Paddy, he needs a couple years.” Dom laughed as he let go of you and took his seat next to Paddy. Tom grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that this was going well.

“Paddy how many times do I have to tell you, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted the light conversation. You looked up at Tom’s mum, she was beautiful. Paddy groaned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Hi Tom.” His mum said as she hugged him, she eyed you up and down, before mumbling a quick ‘hi’ and sitting down in the final seat. Your nerves were back, had you done something to offend her?

Tom cleared his throat awkwardly before engaging in conversation with Sam. Harry leant over towards you. “Ignore her, she can be like that sometimes, she’ll snap out of it.” Harry whispered as he gave you a reassuring smile.

You all ordered after five minutes and light chatter, started out amongst the table. As the starters were served, Dom switched the attention to you, which in hindsight, you really wish he hadn’t.

“So, Y/N? What do you do for work? Tom’s told us a lot about you but at the same time not all that much.” He laughed.

“Yeah it’s cause he’s always talking about how pretty she is.” Paddy mumbled as he stuffed his fork into his mouth, Tom’s cheeks burned red as he mumbled a ‘fuck off’ in his brothers’ direction. Paddy laughed at him before adding. “Not that he’s wrong! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just all he usually talks about when you come up in conversation.” Paddy stumbled over his words as he thought he may have caused offence, you laughed, again being reminded of when you were an awkward teenager and thinking anything you said would be taken as offence.

“I’m a book editor. I’m hoping to move into script editing because I think that’d be more fun but for now, I’m with the books.” You answered confidently as you smiled at Dom. Your smile faltered as you heard a scoff come from Nikki’s direction. Tom eyed her carefully before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s great. She gets to travel with me a lot because she doesn’t have to go into a workplace to do her job.” Tom said as he finished his starter. Shortly after they were cleared. Tom took your hand again under the table, interlocking your fingers.

“That’s great! How long have you been doing that?” Dom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“About three years, I graduated at 21 and got straight into it.”

“Ah, so you’re the same age as Tom then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he’s a couple months older than me.”

“So how did you meet? Like I say Tom has told us a lot about you but at the same time nothing at all.”

“We met in a pub actually.” You laughed as you recalled the memory. “I wasn’t sure Tom would remember talking to me let alone remember he’d taken my number. He was really drunk.” You teased as Tom went red again. Everyone laughed except for Nikki, who eyed you in a way that made you feel quite small all of a sudden.

“So, did you know who he was then? When you gave him your number?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I mean yeah, I’ve seen all the marvel films, so I did know who he was, but that didn’t really matter to me. I liked Tom for Tom.” You answered carefully.

“I’m sure you did.” She said as she gave you a sarcastic smile before sipping her drink.

“Mum.” Tom groaned before squeezing your hand that was still in his.

“What? I’m just making small talk.” She answered as Sam and Harry rolled their eyes. Paddy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched the conversation unfold. Luckily the main course arrived to settle the tension.

“So are you hoping to get into script editing through Tom’s career.” Nikki asked. Dom choked on his drink out of shock as you dropped your fork back onto your plate. The question completely taking you off guard. Tom’s hand found your thigh as you saw him tense next to you.

“You don’t have to answer that Y/N.” Sam said as he smiled at you.

“No, it’s okay. That’s not how I’m hoping to get into script editing. I’ve been applying for different companies for a while now, before I met Tom actually, I just haven’t had any luck.” You answered as your eyes met hers.

“But surely you would have hoped Tom’s career would help if you haven’t had luck.” She sneered.

“Nikki.” Dom hissed.

“No that’s not it at all.” You answered, slightly offended. You knew what she was implying but it wasn’t true. You could make your own way in the world.

“We’ll see.” Nikki said as she continued to eat. The atmosphere around the table had shifted dramatically it was incredibly awkward now.

After you had finished your mains, things hadn’t got much better. Everyone was engaging in small talk, but no one dared shift the attention back towards you. Well, for a while anyway.

“That’s a nice necklace.” Nikki suddenly said out of nowhere. You clutched the necklace that was around your neck, it suddenly felt very heavy around your neck.

“It’s from-“

“Tom? Yeah I’d have guessed. Is it real gold?”

“Yeah but-“

“Of course it is.” She sneered as she rolled her eyes at you. You suddenly felt like this wasn’t going anywhere and you felt the tears brewing in your eyes. You excused yourself from the table, finding your way into the bathroom.

**

“What the fuck was that?” Tom asked his mum as his nostrils flared.

“Don’t swear Tom.” Nikki replied. Paddy was eyeing the exit at this point. He knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Okay, sorry for my language. My question still wants an answer. What. Was. That?” He asked through gritted teeth. He’d never in his entire life felt so angry with his mum. He looked at his dad who just offered him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were being rude. Why?”

“I’m just making sure she’s good enough for you.” Nikki answered her son, honestly.

“By making her look like a money grabbing, opportunity seeking bitch?” Tom fired back. Trying to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a restaurant. Nikki just shrugged and he felt some of his anger spill over.

“That’s not fair mum! I pursued her! She hasn’t once asked me to help her further her career, in fact she’s very careful to try and keep herself distant from what I do and what she wants to do. That necklace you felt the need to point out, came from her grandma, it was left to her after her grandma passed away. Something her granddad bought for her grandma. But of course, you’d have known that had you let her speak. I am so beyond angry with you right now, mum. You had no right to speak to her like that, you don’t know her, I do. I’m also a little offended that you take me for someone who can fooled. I get it you want to protect your kids, but you can’t treat people like that. You need to give her another chance, because I love her, and your little show tonight won’t change that.” Tom felt some of his anger dissipating. His brothers and dad looked at him, almost as if they were proud?

Nikki’s expression dropped at her son’s words. She suddenly felt immensely guilty. Tom was right, she’d taken it too far and judged the poor girl without giving her a chance.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Nikki said sincerely trying to meet her son’s eyes.

“Not me you should be apologising to.” Tom crossed his arms as he refused to meet his mum’s gaze.

“Your right.” Nikki swallowed as she got up from her seat.

“I swear if you’re on your way to upset her again, I’m going home.” Tom called after his mum as she made her way into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked at his dad.

“I know your angry son and I know she had no right. But forgive her yeah? She had your best interests at heart even if she went about that the wrong way.” Dom said as he offered his son a reassuring smile.

“I know. It just upset me that she treated her like that.”

**

You’d managed to stop the tears and you were splashing your face with cold water trying to get rid of the redness in your face. Would Tom believe you if you said you weren’t feeling well and let you go home? No, then you’d be taking him away from his family. You were pulled from your thoughts as another person joined you in the bathroom. You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to draw attention to your tear stained face.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” You heard you were shocked as you turned around to see Nikki. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset her further.

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I just get so protective of him you know. He has had girlfriends like that in the past and I’m just scared someone will take advantage of him again. I know I shouldn’t treat him like he’s naive, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m truly sorry for the way I have treated you tonight. It was unfair of me to judge you when I don’t know you.” She said as she smiled at you. You sighed as you took in her words.

“Look, I get it. I get that you want to protect him but I’m not like that I swear. I really do love Tom for Tom. I’d love him whatever he did for a living.” You said sincerely. Nikki smiled as she pulled you into a hug. You hugged back.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Let’s start again?” She asked you hopefully.

“I’d like that.” You mumbled as she helped you fix your appearance. You made your way back to the table Tom, instantly standing and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Did she upset you again?” Tom whispered protectively into your ear. “Tell me if she has, we’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay Tom. She apologised. We’re going to start again. I get were she was coming from in a way.” You whispered back as he squeezed you tighter.

“Doesn’t make it right.” He mumbled and you hummed in agreement before whispering “let it go, okay,” kissing his cheek before you both sat back down. He didn’t let go of your hand all night. The rest of night went by without any more awkwardness, in fact when you left, you’d argue that you and Nikki had gotten quite close. Tom let his anger towards his mum disappear over the course of the night and when you all left to go home you made plans to do the same again next week and everyone left far happier and content than when they’d arrived.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

[ray-ray-writings]

Family Matters-Awesamdude

This is a Sam x gn!reader also with a bit of Son!Tommyinnit x gn!reader as well in the dreamsmp! Thank you to 🍉 for this idea!!! (P.S. Do you all remember that Fundy video where he coded it so that he could take Dream on a movie date? Yeah we’re going to pretend that that code applies to Minecraft and so you can have TVs so you can watch movies and stuff lol… That’s all) (P.P.S. This took longer than I thought it would so this is my only post for the night. I’m sorry)

Masterlist here!

After spending a lot of time with Tommy, Y/N and Sam decide its time to expand their own family

Y/N’s POV

“Honey I’m home!” I heard my husband call from the front door. “In the kitchen!” I called back as I finished up dinner. “I also brought a guest. Hope that’s okay.” Sam announced as he entered the kitchen. I looked away from what I was doing a little confused. “Of course it’s okay, who did you bring?” I questioned as he approached me, leaned down and gave me a quick kiss as a greeting. Sam simply grinned and moved out of the way revealing a blonde teenage boy standing in the doorway with a grin on his face. “Tommy!!” I exclaimed, leaving the stove and running to the young boy. “Hi Y/N!” He shouted in response, allowing me to wrap my arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“It’s so good to see you! I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while!” I told the young boy, pulling back slightly from the hug. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy with Tubbo. But I ran into Sam as he was walking back from the prison and we started talking and he invited me back here for dinner. I hope that’s okay, I can leave if you want, I don’t want to intrude” Tommy rambled off nervously. I couldn’t help but let out a scoff of disbelief at that, “Okay course it’s okay! You’re always welcome in our home Tommy. Come, sit! Dinner is almost reader,” i said before peeling myself off of the boy and ushering him to the open seat at the table. 

I quickly returned to the stove where Sam had taken over making dinner and had actually finished by the time I got there. “Do you want to serve or do you want me to?” Sam questioned softly, giving me a warm smile. I let out a hum before responding, “I’ll serve if you want to get drinks.” Sam gave me a nod, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to my lips before moving away from my side and getting cups. I quickly grabbed three plates before portioning out the food I had made and carefully carried the plates over to the table and set them down in front of our respective chairs. “Thanks Y/N. Thanks Sam” Tommy thanked us as we set the food and drink down in front of him. “No problem kiddo” I responded, sitting down in my own seat before Sam sat in his. “Let’s eat!”

The three of us ate together and talked about our days as well as catching up with what Tommy had been getting up too. It felt really nice talking to Tommy. Ever since Philza had moved out to the tundra with Techno, we had kind of taken Tommy under our wing. Sam had spent a lot of time with him building and I had spent a lot of time with him mining and gathering materials. It had been a little bit since the three of us hung out, Tommy had been busy with Tubbo running their country. 

“Can you stay for a little bit longer?” I asked the younger boy as we cleared plates from the dinner table. A bright smile formed on his face as he nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, yeah I can. What did you have in mind?” Tommy responded. I gave him an excited grin before quickly putting the dishes in the sink, grabbing his arm, and pulling him into the living room. Sam also put his plate in the sink and followed behind us. 

Once in the living room, I softly pushed Tommy to the couch before rushing over to the TV and putting in a new movie I had yet to see and I knew that Tommy and Sam would enjoy it too. I turned back around and found Tommy sitting in the middle of the couch and Sam sitting to the right of him. I giddily took the spot open on the left side of Tommy and hit play on the remote. 

Once I had settled on the couch, I moved my arm to wrap around Tommy’s shoulders and pull him close to my side. Tommy gave me a confused look but I shrugged, “I wanted to be close to you and my husband, and this is the only way to do it.” At my words, Sam reached up and wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulder too, his arm resting on top of mine. Tommy seemed to accept my answer and settled down, almost curling closer into my side. 

The three of us mostly watched the movie in silence, laughing at the appropriate parts and joking about something the characters were doing. Toward the end, I felt something drop onto my shoulder. I looked over in confusion and felt my heart melt at the sight. Tommy had fallen asleep and in his exhaustion, he head had dropped onto my shoulder. I looked up and met Sam’s eyes, who was staring fondly at the two of us. 

“He really is like our kid sometimes” I whispered to my husband. His eyes didn’t leave Tommy’s form. “Yeah… Do you think that maybe… possibly… we could… ya know?” I knew what he was trying to say. “Really? You want to?” Sam’s eye flicked up from Tommy’s sleeping face. “Yeah, I really really do… Is that okay?” There was a moment’s pause where we both stared at each other, glancing down at Tommy before meeting his gaze again, “Of course that’s okay Sam. I really want to start a family with you. I love you so much” “I love you so much too baby.” Sam, as carefully as he could leaned across Tommy and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips before settling back in his spot with a grin on his lips. We were going to do it. We were going to start our own family. 

*Time skippppp*

Tommy was the first person we told when we had gotten confirmation that we were going to be parents. The two of us made Tommy’s favorite meal and told him that we were going to have a baby. “I’m going to be a big brother?” Tommy gasped in excitement. Tears filled my eyes at his words. Of course Sam and I considered him as a son, but we didn’t know he thought of us in the same way. “Yeah Tommy,” Sam chimed in, tears forming in his eyes as well, “You’re going to be a big brother” Tommy shot up from his seat and ran over to me and threw his arms around me. “Oh this is going to be so cool! I’ve always wanted a younger sibling and now I can finally have one! I’m going to teach them so many curse words!” That made the both of us laugh, “No you absolutely will not” I chided, laughter lacing my voice as tears began falling down my face. “Oh I absolutely will.” 

The next few months were spent preparing for the baby. Tommy was a great help. He spent a lot of days helping Sam extend our house and prepping a nursery for our new addition to the family. Tommy also spent a lot of time helping me. Making sure that I had everything I needed and that I wasn’t over exerting myself, which I found very sweet. Tommy did not leave our house during this time and so we decided to build another room for him to live in. 

Once the baby, a beautiful little girl, finally arrived, Tommy was so stoked. He almost never left her side. Tommy would spend several hours holding our little baby, Stella. There would be many nights where Stella would wake me or Sam up with her crying and by the time either of us got there, Tommy was already holding her, trying to sooth her crying. He was really truly the best big brother to Stella. 

“You guys haven’t had a proper date night in a long time yeah?” Tommy asked randomly one night as the four of us were seated at dinner. Sam and I shared a look before turning back to the boy who had become our son, “Yeah, I guess not huh?” Sam asked with a chuckle. I couldn’t help but chuckle as well as I fed Stella, “It’s been since… I don’t know, before we announced we were going to have Stella. But it’s alright, Stella has taken up a big part of our life and she needs a lot of attention, it’s what being a parent is. We’re alright” I told the boy, looking over and throwing a wink to Sam who threw one back at me with another chuckle. 

Tommy was silent for a moment, contemplating his next words before he spoke, “I mean… Maybe I could watch her for the night while you two go out and have a proper date night” Tommy offered. The offer surprised me. Because yes, Tommy loves his little sister and spends a lot of time with her, but he has only spent time around her when we were around as well. “I would be a really good babysitter too! I would make sure she was fed and she had a clean diaper and went to bed on time. I pinky promise!” Tommy rambles, trying really hard to convince us. 

I looked over to Sam who was already looking at me. I rose my eyebrow at him, and he shrugged in response before raising an eyebrow at me in return. I also gave him a shrug in response before we both turned back to Tommy. “Alright” we both agreed in unison. “After dinner we can pick a date and time, how’s that sound?” Tommy let out a cheer at Sam’s response, startling Stella a little bit. I giggled and quickly soothed her, getting her to go back to eating before looking back at Tommy, “I take that as a yes?” “Yes! Absolutely!” 

So the date was set. Next week the two of us would go out on a small date together, leaving both of our children behind back at the house. Each day that passed, Tommy grew more and more excited about the date. I honestly think that Tommy was more excited about our date than we were. Once the day finally arrived, Tommy practically shoved the two of us out the house, slamming the door closed behind us. 

I couldn’t help but hesitate to leave the front of our house. Sam immediately noticed and wrapped his arm around me and pulled me along the path, “Come on hun, they’ll be fine. You know Tommy loves her and wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” I let out a sigh but nodded and rested my head on his shoulder, “You’re right. You’re right. I’m just nervous about leaving her,” I admitted. Sam let out a hum and leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, “I know baby. Me too, but Tommy’s got this and if he needs anything, he knows to get a hold of us.” I nodded once more, “Yeah… Yeah okay. Okay… Let’s go have fun baby.” “Let’s do that”

The two of us left the house, only glancing back one time each to make sure the house was still standing until we were out of view of it. Once we could no longer see the house, the two of us began to focus on each other and our date night. We allowed ourselves to get lost in each other and go back to the giggly cutesy couple that the two of us were before we had our baby. Not that we’re still not giggly or cutesy, it’s just that we have definitely been more stressed due to our child. But we were able to have an actual, proper, date night with no screaming kids interrupting our kisses or hugs. It was actually really nice and relaxing. 

When the two of us came home, it felt like we were on cloud nine. For the first time in a long time, we didn’t have to worry about either of our children. We knew where the baby was and that Tommy was taking care of her to the best of his abilities. The house was quiet when we walked in, which was a little weird. Normally, Tommy would be talking to Stella if she was awake, but if she wasn’t he would have put her in her crib and come back downstairs to watch a movie or something… But the TV wasn’t on and he wasn’t talking. 

“Tommy?” I called out softly through the house. No response. “Tommy?” Sam tried, his voice also soft. Also no response. “Maybe he’s asleep?” I murmured, walking forward further into the house, Sam following behind. “Maybe. But that would be weird too, he usually never goes to be without telling us goodnight.” “Maybe he’s trying something new” “Maybe.” 

The two of us walked through the house quietly, looking for any sign of Tommy or Stella. Sam and I parted ways as we walked through, Sam went to the kitchen and I went to the living room. My eyes scanned the room and immediately stopped on the most adorable sight I had ever seen on the couch. I poked my head out of the living room and called to my husband softly, “Sam. I found them,” I whisper shouted causing him to step out of the kitchen. “Yeah? They in there?” “Yeah… Come look.” Sam quickly walked down the hallway and peered into the living room. “Oh my gosh” he whispered as his eyes met the sight, “I know right?”

There on the couch was Tommy and Stella. Tommy’s head was tilted back onto the back of the couch and baby Stella rested on his chest. Tommy’s hands rested protectively on Stella’s back holding her close to him. Small snores were falling from the young blonde’s lips as he peacefully slept on the couch. Over Tommy’s shoulder, a burp rag rested and beside him a half drunk bottle lay on it’s side. It seems that he was trying to get her to eat, but she just wanted to snuggle and sleep. 

“He really is the best big brother that anyone could ask for,” I whispered to my husband who hummed in agreement, “He really is. They’re the best kids that parents could ask for.” Kids. Our kids. They are our children. A small tear made its way down my cheek causing me to let out a sniff, “yeah, they really are.” Sam looks over to me and chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. “You big softie” he teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Oh hush, you’re the same way,” I mumbled, my face pressed into his chest. I felt a chuckle rumble through his body as he laughed at me, “Yeah… You’re right. You’re 100% right.” 

We stood there for a few moments longer before I let out a small yawn. “Tired?” Sam asked, pulling me away from the hug slightly to look at my face. I gave him a small nod and a tired smile, “Yeah, I had a really fun day with this really cool guy and now I’m a bit tired,” I told him. Sam laughed and pressed a small kiss to my forehead. “Wow, that guy sounds pretty cool,” Sam claimed, going on with the joke. “He really is. I love him lots, we have two children together that we should probably put to bed right now.” Another laugh escaped his lips, “I’m sure he loves you lots too. And I’m sure he’d agree with you about getting the kids to bed. I bet he would suggest you get Stella and he get Tommy.” It was my turn to laugh at him, “Yeah. I would definitely agree with that,” I giggled. Sam gave me a soft smile before leaning down and giving me a soft and slow kiss that I instantly returned. “I love you so much” “I love you too” 

After we broke apart, the two of us softly moved to the children that were knocked out on the couch. Ever so carefully, I peeled Tommy’s hands from his sister’s back before picking her up and tucking her to my own chest and stepping away from the couch. Sam quickly took my spot and ever so slowly and carefully picked up our son bridal style. We carefully made our way to our respective child’s room. I carefully laid Stella down in her crib, tucking her in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and leaving the room. 

I made my way to Sam and I’s shared bedroom, quickly getting ready for bed and crawling into bed before Sam entered the room as well. We were silent as he got ready for bed and crawled in next to me. “Have any troubles?” I whispered, curling myself into his chest. Sam’s arms immediately wrapped around my body, cuddling me closer. “No, you?” “Nope. All good on the Stella front.” “Good” 

We were silent for a little while longer, his hands rubbing up and down my back softly, lulling me closer to the edge of sleep. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” Sam murmured after a while, breaking the silence. “For what?” I responded sleepily, confused at what he was saying. “For this. For letting Tommy in our home. For Stella. For giving me family.” A soft warmth filled my whole body at my husband’s soft confession. I carefully pulled my head from his chest and peered up at him softly, “Oh baby. You don’t have to thank me for that… It was just a part of your decision as it was mine. We’re in this together babe. You and me, it’s our family. Our little family.” 

I tilted my head up and Sam got the message. Our lips met in a soft but passionate kiss. The kiss said everything. “Thank you” “You don’t have to thank me” “You’re my family” “I love you” Another wave of warmth flooded my body, making me feel cozy and warm. It was a feeling that I never ever wanted to leave my body. It was a feeling that could be caused by no one else, only my husband, the love of my life, my everything. “I love you so much” Sam murmured against my lips. “I love you too. So much more.” 

Well that ending sucked… lol but there you have it! I really hope you enjoyed it! If so be sure to leave a like or maybe even a reblog!!

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt one shot #awesamdude #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude one shot #tommyinnit #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit one shot #tommyinnit x reader #platonic tommyinnit #dreamsmp #dream smp #dream smp imagine #dreamsmp imagine #dream smp x reader #dreamsmp x reader #ray-ray-writings #requested #family matters #🍉 anon

[notnctu]

through the lens ❀ l.jn

❀ lee jeno x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, smut/mature content, fluff (romance?), slight angst ❀ details - photographer!jeno, model!reader, college!au, shy!jeno but he aint shy in bed, strangers to fuckers!au ❀ word count - 8k (this is the longest thing ive ever written) ❀ warnings - nude modeling, swearing, oral (f/receiving), some sweet love makin’ ❀ brief synopsis - jeno asks you to model for his internship project, but little did you know, it was going to be a nude photo shoot.  

❝ jeno was too shy to hold eye contact, but he stared at you endlessly through the lens. ❞

❀ a/n - hihihi this is author doie❀ ! im bad at writing smut so pls dont hate me ah ha lol i tried my best i also dont model/do professional photography so really apologize if i butcher any terms lmaoo the only thing i am is that im in college and im shy

Jeno had applied to almost a hundred internships and almost close to none returned with an offer, even after a whole month of waiting. He absolutely needed to start building his portfolio before the beginning of his senior year of college. The embarrassment of possibly graduating without any experience loomed over the desperate boy. 

Photography had been more than a hobby to him, to the point where he wanted to take it seriously. His parents weren’t the most supportive of an Arts major, but that couldn’t stop him. Jeno saw the best through a camera lens. He had a special eye for beautiful moments and the impressing urge to capture it forever. 

It was too late to change his major, if he wanted to graduate with all of his friends. If he wanted to be successful, he had to act on it now. 

The swoosh! of a new email startled the sleeping boy. He stared at the brightly lit screen, reading the words over and over again to make sure it was real. Jeno was so enthralled with excitement that he scrambled out of bed to wake up his roommate, Jaemin.

He shook him so violently that the sheets fell from Jaemin’s warm body. “Dude! I got an internship!” He spoke with incredible glee, a wide smile couldn’t leave his face.

Jaemin groaned and had to hold Jeno by the shoulders to halt the boy from causing the room to spin. “Why--What is going on?” He dazely rubbed his tired eyes to blink at his giddy roommate.

The screen blinded Jaemin as it was shoved too closely to adjust. “Whoa--,” he pushed it away and shut his eyes, “--repeat what you just said one more time.” Jaemin held a finger up and Jeno grabbed it, jumping onto his best friend’s bed.

“I got an internship. Someone got back to me.” Jaemin returned the same excitement the moment he processed his words. He shot up in bed and hugged his friend tightly. 

“Wo-w, dude! Congratulations!” The two boys hurried on their feet to cheer together. There was no concern for the rest of their housemates, only celebration that roared throughout the entire night.

+

Truthfully, Jeno had no recollection of applying to this studio. It could have been a random link on a job scouting website, but he couldn’t be more grateful. An internship was long overdue and Jeno had been itching to get some recognition for his craft. 

“Hello, I’m Lee Jeno.” He bowed slightly at the receptionist, who had a stern stare that made him feel vulnerable. The first thing he noted about the office: white and minimalistic. 

Jeno’s specialty was landscape photography. His aesthetics consisted of black and white filters, city lights, dark mood lighting, and background commotion. He enjoyed capturing chaos the most, a scene where more than one thing was happening. The only reason being that there was more to look at. 

“Nice to meet you. The name is Lee Taemin, but you can call me what you please.” A young, lean man strolled his way towards Jeno with a wide grin and his hand for him to shake. Taemin was slightly shorter than him, but his stylish, expensive boots made up for his height. He had to be only a maximum of five years older than Jeno as Taemin appeared relatively youthful. 

Taemin’s firm grip pulled Jeno along inside the studio. A small gasp escaped from Jeno which earned robust laughter from the older man. “I hope you can break out of your shell soon. There is no room for timidness around here, Mister Lee.”

“Please, you can call me Jeno.” He smiled, quite awkwardly at the beautiful man. 

The tall glass windows, the concrete, gray floor, the white doors that lined the hallway, had to be all too predictable. Jeno envisioned this is what high class must look like. It was the pristine, bright feeling and the smell of vanilla that lingered distastefully. There was chatter behind the closed doors --- mainly directing, and high praises. 

The only off-put was that photographers worked behind closed doors. From the few studios he has visited previously, photographers often worked in open spaces due to lighting fractures or the ability to roam more freely. 

“I’m actually very ecstatic you signed up for the internship, since you do seem a bit on the younger side.” Taemin gestured toward the sofa in the middle of his massive office. Jeno sat across from him. Water was already placed on the glass coffee table that separated the two. A laptop was opened to face Taemin.

Jeno slyly rubbed the condensation from his palms on his jeans. Taemin’s stare bore deep into the shy boy, who had to break eye contact from time to time. “I know.” Jeno chuckled nervously, “thank you for getting back to me. I was really hoping to gain work experience through mentorship.” 

Taemin nodded at everything Jeno was saying. His face being completely expressionless. Jeno sipped his water to regain moisture in his dry throat. Taemin was more intimidating than he was anticipating. “Sounds great. Happy to have you here. It might be a small business, but the experience is worth investing in. Every photographer who has come in and out of my building has found their forte. Let’s say, it’s eye opening.” 

“That’s exactly what I was looking for actually.” As scared as he was of this mysterious man, he really enjoyed the comfort the environment radiated. 

Taemin leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I noticed in the portfolio you sent that you don’t have any portraits or any people, in general, in your photos. Do you have any works with people? Since this is a studio of fine art nude photography.”

Nude. Jeno practically choked on the last remaining spit he gathered. Taemin acknowledged the boy’s shocked reaction and tilted his head curiously, “you did know that I specialize in contemporary fine art nude photography, right?” Unfortunately, Jeno did not. 

Jeno cleared his throat, “yes, of course. I wanted to challenge myself.” He had to lie, there was no other way to cover up his disbelief. This internship was the only hope left for him to gain something. Though, even the thought of shooting a naked body made him anxious.

He hated how timid he was. His friends and family say otherwise, mainly for the reason that Jeno automatically lit up behind a camera. In all honesty, he hid behind it. It was the only safe place that Jeno knew what he was doing. However when it came to real life situations without it, he lacked the confidence to be himself.

As ironic as it was, he hated being seen. He liked to be the background character in his own life, because the main character took too much of a toll. It could also be his deafening insecurities and lack of self esteem, but Jeno didn’t mind not being the center of attention.

“You like a challenge?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Jeno caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Taemin’s dark eyes. “Then for your first task, I want you to show me that you can take on this role.”

Jeno scrambled for his phone to jot down notes. “Send me an emotional portfolio, model of your choice. They could be a friend of yours that you feel comfortable seeing naked. It must include a variation of headshots, full body, and body details. It must also be raw and unedited photos. I want to see if you have the eye for the art to capture these types of images.”

“When would you like it by?” He stammered, completely winded at the sudden project that unloaded on top of him. 

“Next Friday, and you’ll present it to me here in person. Feel free to use this studio if you don’t have a place of your own with equipment. All you need to do is book a room with the front desk. Any other questions?” The sound of the laptop shutting caused Jeno to look up at the brilliance in front of him. He needed Taemin to help him succeed. 

“Why do you take nude photography?” 

Taemin was unable to stop the laughter that erupted into the room. “I don’t run a pimp business or sell soft core porn, if that’s why you’re staring at me so funnily. What I make is an art masterpiece, it has nothing to do with physical features or desires. It’s the pure emotion that clothing distracts from. Clothing conforms the model into an aesthetic, and while that works for editorials, it won’t be a consistent thing here.” 

Jeno nodded understandingly. Overwhelmed and lost at words. He was unsure what he had gotten himself into. Where was he going to find a model on such short notice on such lewd conditions? He was really going to need to step out of his comfortable zone, in his photography and social skills. 

Taemin stood up and extended his hand once more. “I take pride in my art, so I hope you, too, start finding that in your own.” 

+

Jaemin held his stomach from the endless laughter, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nud-Nude photography? And you didn’t know?”

“Jaemin, keep it down.” Jeno whispered and cautiously peered around at the few people flooding into the small lecture hall. “I don’t want everyone in our club to misunderstand and think I’m some creep.”

His best friend straightened up in his seat and placed his hand on Jeno's slumped shoulder, “first of all, you’re a complete idiot for not researching. Secondly, it’s an art form. If you really got yourself a shady, rated R internship, I would’ve told you to drop it instantly.” 

His spirits were slightly lifted, but he was still struggling with who he should ask to model for him. As much as he’s already seen of Jaemin, being his roommate, he honestly would rather leave the rest to imagination. Jeno wasn’t purposefully searching the room for a candidate, but he could not stop his eyes from drifting.

He spotted the most attractive side profile that sat two rows below him. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing her correctly. Peering around, he looked for another possible face to shoot. But oh god, how she caught his eye every time she even slightly moved.

You smiled happily with your friends by your side as your club’s executive board members introduced this year’s goals and events to attend. It had to be the smallest amount of alcohol still running in your system that caused you to giggle every time guys tried to turn around and hit on you.

“Why don’t you focus on our club members instead?” You smirked at the smug older boy, who had poorly attempted to grab your attention. “I think this information is important to you. These events could help you develop your social skills to be much better.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but your girl friends scoffed by your side.

He got up in disbelief and quickly walked out of the room. There was a brief pause at the sudden movement, but the announcement carried on per usual.

Jeno impatiently waited for the club meeting to finally be over, so he could talk to you. The longer it dragged, the more his confidence was subsiding. “I’m heading to study, wanna come with?” Jaemin poked at Jeno’s knee.

“Yeah, but you can go ahead first. I need to talk to someone.” His voice was shaky and his throat went so dry. Jeno’s shifty eyes scanned the room, hoping no one saw how nervous he was acting.

Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted suspiciously, “who? I didn’t even know you talked to anyone who came today. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t here---”

“--her, Jaemin... her. I’m going to ask her to model for me.” Jeno motioned his head. His heart beating faster at seeing a small grin appear on your face from a comment someone made.

Jaemin hummed, “good luck with that, bud. I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on after.” The extra hint of sarcasm only made Jeno sweat nervously. He was seriously doubting his decision, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if he didn’t do it. He knew he’d regret it more if he didn’t just ask you. 

Once the meeting was dismissed, you wanted to get out of the room before the heavy rush into the hallways. Unfortunately, a few frat guys pulled you into their conversation and chatted up a storm. Your friends played into their foolery, but you stopped paying attention when they asked for your numbers.

There was a faint tap on your shoulder and you turned to see who the culprit was. You didn’t seem to know him, because you would’ve remembered such a demeanor. His eyes were glued to the floor behind you and his shaky hands ran through his brown locks. His shyness was quite endearing, yet alarming since you weren’t sure why exactly he had approached you.

“Yes?” You asked curiously.

The moment Jeno heard your delicate cadence, he melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. He peered up, but quickly reverted his eyes to the white tiles when he noticed how beautifully you stared at him.

He counted his breathing to calm his rapid heart beat. He cleared his throat to introduce himself, “I’m Jeno. I’m a third year Arts major, um-- I was just--- I know we don’t know each other. I wanted to ask, uh-” Jeno was horrified at how he stammered over his own words. His cheeks burned with a red glow, and if he couldn’t look you in the eye before, he definitely couldn’t now.

“Hey, see you later.” One of the bulky frat guys called and you waved back weakly. 

A guy who had been chasing you endlessly scoffed at the pitiful sight and smirked at you, “see you at my house tonight? Been missing you in my bed lately.”

“Thought you would’ve guessed the reason why I stopped coming around.” Jeno heard the sting in your remarks and the disbelief in the male. 

You honestly could have left, Jeno knew that. But you stayed and waited patiently for him to finish. Jeno could tell how strong you were just by your intimidating aura that practically suffocated him by standing in close proximity to you.

You sighed and reached to grab your jacket on the folded seat, “look, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you and all, but I gotta get going.” 

Shockingly, the shy boy reached out to stop you by your fingertips. His touch lingered before he dropped your hand quickly. “I’m sorry. Are you free this Monday?”

“Uh, that depends. If you’re asking me on a date, then I’m busy.” Rolling your eyes, you weren’t sure why you still stayed to listen to what this random stranger had to say. If it were anyone else, you would’ve walked away the moment he asked if you were free. However, you acknowledged his timidness and the courage he must have mustered up to approach you.

Jeno shook his head violently, completely in shambles from that type of misunderstanding. “Not a date. I need someone to model for my portfolio photos that my internship assigned. It’s actually very important to me because it’s the first internship that responded back to me when I had applied to so many a whole month ago. Basically, I really need this and you because I think you’d be perfect to take pictures of. Oh-- wow! That sounded very bad --- uh --- what I meant is that your facial proportions are perfect and---”

“I’m free Monday.” You cut off his endless ramble and gestured toward his phone. He handed it to you without any hesitation and you typed in your number. “Text me the time, place and what I should wear.” 

“Oh actually, it’s a nude photoshoot.” Your eyes doubled in size, completely offended by that statement.

Jeno felt the sudden shift in the air and brought his hands up to block himself, “to be more clear, it’s a contemporary fine art nude photography studio. The pictures are pieces of art and to be seen as that only. I have no intentions or ulterior motive to sleep with you, see you naked or sell, leak your nudes for the profit of your body. But, I understand if you no longer want to do it because it sounds super strange now that I am explaining it.” 

Your shoulders relaxed and the fist that formed unraveled. You exhaled deeply, “I’ll do it. We can talk more about it on Monday and I get to leave on my own accord if I don’t feel comfortable. We work on my conditions.” Picking up Jeno’s chin, he was absolutely petrified at the forced eye contact and your incredible, powerful gaze. He was mesmerized by the fire in your eyes, and if he stared any longer, he could’ve lost himself in them. 

“Of course.” With that, you dropped his face and left without another look back. Jeno looked down at his phone and the new contact name, (Y/N). It had slipped his mind to even ask what your name was and he slapped his face in utter stupidity. “Do better, Lee Jeno.” It was a remainder to himself to, hopefully, be better the next time you two speak.

+

Monday, 3:03 PM. 

Jeno paced back and forth in the brightly, lit white room. He was trying to find any blinds or curtains to cover the tall windows of the high rise building. It should not be too much of a problem, the extra lighting was a positive. Jeno was only worried for your comfort of the openness. 

There was a soft knock before Jeno practically tripped to open the door. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare face. This time, you were the vulnerable one. Jeno only saw purity, yet impressed at how your tired eyes still managed to bid him a soft smile. He admired your uneven complexion, and the sparse moles that dotted your skin. 

“Okay, so you want to see me naked now or later?” Filled with jokes, your voice was light and airy this afternoon. There was a bit of a contrast from the first time you two met. Softer, enchanting, almost ghostly. 

Everything in the room was white. The mattress on the floor had a white comforter and white sheets. The backdrop. The walls. The hardwood floor. The only color was the blue sky that the tall windows let in.

“Here’s a robe. You can change in the bathroom.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered everywhere, but your’s. 

“Would you be okay with me just taking off my clothes in here?” You saw the light tint of pink cover his face, and spread to his ears. You examined more of the shy boy’s embarrassed face, finally getting a really good look at him. Jeno was very attractive, and you could only imagine how beautiful he must look if he fully faced you.

Jeno fiddled with his camera strap, “only if you are okay with that.” Clearing his throat, he stood next to the window to give you some privacy. “I’ll go over what I plan on doing. I’m going to take photos of your face details, parts of your body, full body, and portraits. You can lay down on the bed and I’ll direct you in poses. Have you modeled before?”

He was scanning the bustling city below his feet. Cars zoomed quickly and crowds of tiny people flooded the streets. He brought his camera up to his face, not being able to resist the urge to capture such a thrilling sight. 

“If Instagram counts, then yeah. Professional model gig would be a no. Nude photography is a definite no, unless we are talking about being filmed during sex.” Jeno chuckled, while also holding the camera steady and stealing a few moments to keep for himself.

For a strange reason, being naked for a non-sensual reason felt even more vulnerable. Laying on the soft fabric, you felt oddly exposed and slightly more reserved. You’ve had countless strangers see you naked. Men were sexually desiring to see a sexy picture. You were always lusted after, but this feeling of nakedness was special.

“Are you ready?” Jeno gulped, finally setting the camera down. 

You hummed cheerfully. Your heart was leaping out of your chest as the boy shifted slowly to face you. As he turned, you noticed he had his eyes sealed shut, which caused a small laugh to erupt. “Jeno, you have my permission to open your eyes and to look at me.”

Holy shit, he was trembling with an inexplicable fear. The camera was slipping from his sweaty hands. His mouth was as dry as the desert. Jeno’s pounding heart was loud in his ears. 

Jeno has seen his past girlfriends laying naked in bed, but this situation was too different. When he saw you laying there in absolutely nothing, he was overwhelmed, yet astounded at how graceful you appeared.

There was no exchange of words and no exchange of eye contact. He towered over your lying figure and shakily brought the camera to his eyes. He selfishly wanted to capture your elegance. Through the lens, he saw all of you: the curve in your eyelid, your curled eyelashes, the small mole next to your soft lips, the sharp color of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face.

This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You were comparable to the arts found in popular museums. Your body lines were enticing and an impressive shape. Your breasts pooled on your chest, the round nude nipple in the centers. Your details had to be sculpted by gods, who took their sweet time making you. You were a true masterpiece. 

Confused, Jeno felt a huge mixture of emotions. Was he aroused? Was he infatuated? Did he just fall in love with a complete stranger? He recognized the same thrilled feelings he felt taking landscape photos. With each click, he grew more excited with how beautiful the photos were turning out.

“Sit up and rest your chin on your left hand. Lean your weight on your right leg.” Jeno’s direction was clear and firm. There was no evidence of a smaller tone he usually spoke in. Sitting up, you placed your elbow on your upper thigh to steady your chin. Jeno had already gotten down to floor level to you. 

Without the camera that separated you two, it had to be the first time he faced you completely in such close proximity. There was so much to admire about Jeno. He remained concentrated on his craft, but it was actually very sexy to see his dedication. It was almost like he was a whole new person, like all the shyness drifted away. 

Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t simply your beauty that amazed him. Your confidence made everything easy. There was something about your blank stares, when he asked for an emotion, you portrayed it perfectly.

“Can we talk while you shoot?” Your sudden voice startled the photographer. He lowered his camera and his gaze automatically wandered off behind you, which didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded after a short pause and the shutter noises continued.

“Why did you choose me as your model?” 

Jeno peeled away from the device, “because you’re you.” He didn’t even know what that statement meant. It wasn’t like he knew you before the first time he asked you to model for him.

The corners of your lips dipped down, drawing an evident frown. Click. Jeno loved that image especially. It was a simple way to get real, authentic facial expressions. He marveled at the photo, but registered the reason behind it. “I wanted to ask you the second I saw you. I just knew that I wanted you.” 

“But you don’t know me.” 

Jeno looked through the lens once again, welcoming a full view of your stunning attributes. He spoke in a low voice, “then, let me know you.” Click. 

It would be the biggest lie to say that you weren’t aroused by Jeno at the moment. He was cool, without trying to be. He really did shine when he had a camera to work with, like a star to a dark night. While he had a distinct demeanor off the bat, you enjoyed unraveling the rest of him. He was, also, the first man you met that didn’t seem sexually driven by a naked woman in his presence. 

You had to resist every urge to push the camera away and share the few seconds of his entire gaze before it wandered away. You wanted to rock his world, he was so innocent and beautiful. You wished to wreak havoc on him, have him show you how much he wanted you. 

+

You anticipated an awkward photoshoot, but Jeno made you feel safe and comfortable. He made sure to adjust the temperature when goosebumps rose on your arms and when your nipples became painfully hard. He never touched you or came too much into your personal space. He always asked for your permission. 

Nude modeling was a new experience for you, but you were surprised at how much you liked it. or how much you liked Jeno taking your photos. He sat next to you on the bed when you put on your articles of clothing and panned through several shots to satisfy your curiosity.

Leaning close, your head ducked to see the photos. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw just the first few. “Is that really me?” The pictures made you feel an abundance of emotions, you felt what they reflected. Sadness, melancholy, happiness, confidence. You didn’t know images had that much power to make you feel that, especially photos of you.

Jeno nodded, smiling so wide that his eyes turned to moon crescents. He was so in love with the results. He found respect for Taemin’s craft and he was right, he might’ve found a new forte to experiment with. “I can send you the photos digitally too, if you want them.”

“Maybe I’ll print them out, frame them, and gift it to every horrid man who has tried to flirt their way to my body since they want to see it so fucking bad.” 

Jeno peered over and saw the tiny glimpse of pain in your orbs, “why would you give horrible people what they want?”

“So they can finally shut up and leave me alone. Plus, this is art and if I tell them it’s actually me, maybe it’ll change their minds to start treating me like it.” 

He held his palm up and almost immediately, your fingers filled the spaces between his. “I’m going to need you to start treating yourself as fine art.”

“Keep taking more photos of me and I just might start thinking I’m Mona Lisa.” Your laughters blended nicely into each other. There was mutual mental acknowledgement of the happiness you were both feeling.

Jeno never let go of your hand, and there was a short moment of comforting silence where you two sat in each other’s existence. You were the one to break it, “are you doing anything after this?” 

He shook his head. “Well then, you’re mine for the rest of the night. We’re going to pretend we’ve been close friends since first year and eat take-out on my bed because that’s what I need at the moment.” 

+

“I know you respect my body and see this as an art form, but I’m genuinely surprised that you didn’t feel aroused at the slightest.”

Jeno didn’t even realize how much time had already passed being you. You two ate and chatted as if you’ve known each other forever, as if the friendship wasn’t established several hours ago. It felt safe and right, like you two belonged in each other’s existence and nowhere else mattered.

He felt warm inside from your hearty laughter and courage, like he was watching a painting come to life or a photo in movement. You were smitten over how endearing and complex he was. He was more than what meets the eye and that alone drew you towards him.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Jeno paused to watch your reaction, “in the most respectable way, I was somewhat turned on. But! Before you trail blaze me for being just like every disgusting male in your life, I genuinely didn’t have any sexual thoughts during the photoshoot. That was all professional and it will continue to be like that.” 

Getting up from your bed, your mind was working at lightspeed to process his confession. Jeno was fast to pick up someone’s personality, what stood out and what was kept hidden. He knew quicker than anyone else that you were not someone to offend because you were a strong, straight forward woman.

His personality breakdown went like this: you knew what you like, you knew you were going to get what you want, you enjoyed flirty banter (with people of your choice), you weren’t afraid to be blunt, or kick someone’s ass. You carried yourself with confidence that graced your every step, which makes anyone attracted to you instantly. Bold, confident, sexy had to be what came to mind whenever he thought about you. 

Nonetheless, he really liked you as a person. He could pat himself on the back all day long for just approaching you, but he knew the real reason as to how this all happened. It was you saying yes to a stranger’s odd photoshoot. You made him the luckiest man in the world. 

“Continue? Are you looking for excuses to keep seeing me?” You smirked and Jeno’s voice grew small. 

“I--- uh, well,” there goes the nervous stammering, “I know the conditions were a one time thing, so I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” As the night had progressed, Jeno gradually began to hold eye contact and actually looked at you directly without the help of seeing you through a lens. This was the first time he broke it. 

“Hey now, I’m messing with you, Jeno.” He had been sitting on your floor, at the end of your bed. You crawled on your elbows to reach him, and to hold his chin to face you again. Deja vu. “I’d love to get naked for you again, and again, and.. as many times as you want me to.” 

He stared at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. His eyes scanned your beautiful face to see your lips pull back into a mischievous smile. Gulping, he swallowed every ounce of courage he had left. “You don’t have to say it like that.” He tried to remove your grip, but it latched onto his hand. 

“You’re finally looking me in the eye, sweet thing. I don’t think you realize how much I had been wanting that from you.” You caressed his cheek, rubbing small circles on his texture. 

“What else do you want from me?” His implication sounded suggestive, even if his curiosity was innocent. 

Your hot breath brushed against Jeno’s lips. “I can show you.”

Jeno, the one and only college guy who has seen your naked body in a non-sexual context. Jeno, the shy, sweet boy who appreciated and recognized you as a form of art. Jeno, the talented and skillful photographer, who consistently made sure you felt comfortable. Jeno, the only person in the world who you’d model nude for. Jeno, the dazzling character behind the camera who you wanted more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Lee Jeno.

He seemed like he was inching closer, already tilting his head to fit your’s. You smiled to yourself, seeing that your words were received well. Diving in, your lips swam together fervently. 

The poor boy found himself lost in your enchanting, alluring gaze. He let the trance consume him, selfishly kissing the art he admired so dearly. A small part of him felt the guilt and confusion that began to rise. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wished to feel your lips on his neck, or run his hands across your hot skin. He swore these thoughts were not present earlier. 

A small pop! and Jeno held your shoulder to pull away. “I’m sorry, did I do something?” You asked, honestly concerned that you were taking more than you deserved. The least you desired was to hurt Jeno, who had been nothing but nice and sweet.

“(Y/N),” you could listen to your name roll off his tongue all day, “I feel somewhat guilty. I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

“Which would be?”

“I don’t want you to think I coerced you into being my model just because I had intentions to sleep with you.” Jeno was already gathering his things, but you hopped off your bed and placed a hand on his chest. “Because that’s what it’s starting to look like at the moment.”

“Was that something you did though? Did you have those intentions?” Your stare bore right through him. The warmth of your hand relaxed his racing heart.

“Never, (Y/N), I would never do that to someone.” Your hand traveled down to grab his belongings and tossed it back onto the ground. 

He silently watched as you took off your pants, and stood in front of him in your underwear. “Then, we’re fine. I know your intentions have always been pure. But truthfully, Jeno, seeing you focused while you worked sparked something in me. You don’t understand how aroused I got and how badly I wanted you to fuck me on that bed.” His hand trailed up your exposed thighs, finally touching your softness. “You’re the one guy I wanted first, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.” 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” His cheeks revealed how embarrassed he was, but his dark, lustful eyes were telling a different story.

A smirk fell upon your face, “then don’t say anything.” 

Jeno devoured you, inhaling the light hint of vanilla that still lingered. He hoisted you onto your mattress and kissed you like his life depended on it. His antsy hands roamed your free range, exploring, holding, gripping the parts he marveled over. Small moans from the back of your throat encouraged him to continue.

No one has ever kissed you with the amount of passion Jeno did. It was gentle, with enough vigor to cause your panties to dampen. It wasn’t sloppy, where previous guys had a problem of missing your mouth entirely and slobbered your chin. 

His lips worshiped you, highlighting your good sides. Flashes of the photoshoot popped into Jeno’s head as he left purple marks on the places he loved capturing the most. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him again. His tongue circled around your hard nipple as he made sure to give the same amount of attention to each one. 

Jeno knew he was too shy to hold your intense stare, but getting to know you during and after the photoshoot, he could see the softness in your gaze. He was, now, able to see all of you. The sight of you through the camera was addicting enough, so finally taking you all in was more than satisfying. 

Your hands ran through his hair as he kissed down your torso. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your underwear, and peeled it off your body. You gasped as the cold air from your apartment grazed against your exposed figure.

Jeno paused to admire your glistening pussy, “would it be okay if you let me make love to you?”

Your heart burned, not out of embarrassment, but at how he still managed to ask you for your permission in the sweetest way. You rested your weight on your elbows, “no one has done that before, would it actually make me want to fall in love with you?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad. I have a lot of love to give and you look like a person who deserves all of it anyways.” Jeno’s finger ran over your wet slit and rubbed your clit slowly.

Your moans filled the room as the electric jolted throughout your veins. The wetness grew, seeping out of you like a waterfall. Jeno dropped down to his knees, and lifted your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Are you usually this wet, baby?”

Chuckling, you smiled at his bold choice in using pet names, “Just for you.”

He hummed, chiming at how he liked your answer. Spreading you open, his tongue met with your swollen bud that begged for his licks.

His tongue darted side to side, up and down and in result, your back arched in pleasure and a darkness clouded your mind. His name and mindless profanities streamlined their way out of you as Jeno ate you out in such a precisely delicious way.

Grabbing a fist full of hair, you pulled him closer, even if there was no more space to fill. Looking down, you two exchanged glances before he thrusted a finger into you. Your hips bucked harder as he eased in another one.

Jeno curled his fingers in search of your sweet spot and found it when a deep moan escaped your throat. His fingertips rubbed and pressed into your plush flesh, causing you to practically scream and squirm in his mouth. 

He suckled your clit and fingered you simultaneously and quickly. The pleasure was overflowing and you released his hair to grip your sheets below you. Your legs shook and trembled as he had no caution to stop.

“Please, I’m going to--” you could barely talk due to your face contouring to the splurge of pleasure every single time Jeno rubbed your spot. “--to explode.” 

He had to take back what he thought earlier in the day. This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. The whole scene played like from one of his favorite films. It felt like he was giving his photos life. Your body twisted and turned, accentuating the curves of your lines. 

Jeno had become painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, but seeing you fall apart because of his minimal movements exhilarated him. “P-Please, don’t stop.” A breathy moan followed suit and your thighs tried to press themselves together. Jeno didn’t allow it, his free hand hooked underneath your left thigh to pull one side away from his cheeks.

Your high gradually grew so tall that it all eventually came cascading down. Your legs shook violently and sat up from the euphoria that took over you. Jeno prolonged your buzz and you screamed loudly, having to bite down on your fingers to stop yourself from angering your neighbors.

Jeno drank you up, letting your wetness cover his chin and drip down his knuckles. He pulled away, at last, and you took deep breaths to control your heavy breathing. It was like Jeno knocked the wind completely out of you. 

He stood up and you saw the outline of his hard bulge straining itself through his jeans. The next scene was quite animalistic. You, still embodying your high, sat on your knees and unzipped his pants with your needy hands.

“Now, it’s your turn to get nude for me.” You whispered, tauntingly. Jeno groaned when you reached down and gently pulled him out. He stepped out of his clothing, all of it. His shirt was lost in the corner and his bottoms were scattered over your floor. Mirroring his actions, you took off your last piece of cloth.

Jeno was built. Though his biceps did not go unnoticed during the photoshoot, you were surprised at the lines of muscle that sketched his body. It made your mouth water, seeing his extremely hard dick stand against his toned abs. His red tip fell just below his navel. Jeno only kept getting better as the night continued on.

Pulling him closer, his hand found their way to the back of your head as you aligned your mouth to the wetness that spilled from his tip. “I want to make you feel good.” Jeno’s hoarse voice made your knees weak.

Peering up, you batted your eyelashes at him fondly. “Just a little taste?” You begged, having to hold his shaft with both of your hands because of his thickness. Your tongue was already stuck out, your hot breath causing the tiniest bit of sensation for him.

He nodded and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t want to miss any second of your kitty licks. You flattened your tongue against his warmth, dragging it up to the top. The saltiness hit your palette as you swirled around his redness. “Oh--” Jeno threw his head back and bit his lip, “--lay on the bed now.” 

You smiled sweetly and gave his member a quick kiss before reaching for a condom in your drawer. Jeno climbed onto your bed and situated the rubber comfortably. You laid on your back and he was fast to pull your legs around his waist. 

He lined himself at your entrance and eased his tip in slowly. Squirming, you craved him to fill you up to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, letting your tongue lap with his. It’s your hands with the mind of their own when they flew automatically to hold his face whenever you wanted to deepen the kiss. Then, Jeno stretched himself all the way in and he caught your gasp with his lips. He groaned, feeling the mess he created merely minutes ago. 

His hips moved so easily with your wetness, but he went slow. Dragging out each pull and then, pushing himself back in roughly. “Jeno!” Your body jolted up the bed each time. His body fell over yours to hold you intimately, letting you bury your face into his neck. Your lips latched themselves onto his sensitive skin, painting a purple sunset. 

Jeno’s arms snaked underneath your thighs as he pressed them to your chest, folding you almost into a ball. Your mouth hung open as he fucked you harder, rougher, deeper yet keeping the tempo rhythmically slow. At this point, you could feel his hits in your gut. Your weak hands gripped loosely around his strong wrists that held your legs down. “You’re pussy is so tight and holy shit---, you keep getting more beautiful.”

A familiar burning sensation set in your chest as you saw how concentrated his face had become. You were so fucked out that you could barely speak, “you—” his hips mercilessly slammed into you powerfully, enacting a low moan every time he reached your sweet spot. “—keep surprising me.” His actions came to a halt and he stared deeply into your soul. 

You whined, wiggling your hips for any friction. He held them down into the mattress, knowing his grip was strong enough to leave a mark. “I told you, I was going to make love to you tonight.”

“I’ve already fallen for you.” You said breathlessly, tracing the side of his face and pecking his lips softly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me by saying those things.” He whispered and pushed his entire shaft to fill you to your brim. 

You yelped his name and gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet. “Show me how badly you wanted me the first time you saw me.” Jeno blinked at you in slight shock. 

As he continued to hold the deep gaze, he kept pushing his dick further and further into you. He was balls deep, almost impossible to keep going. He fucked you without the need to pull out, just burying his cock deeper into your wet pussy. You exclaimed, moaned, cussed at every push. Holding the stare was more than enough to lose yourself all over him again. 

Jeno was drunk with the image of your fucked out expression and every time the mixture of pleasure and pressure caused your eyebrows to crease and mouth to open release sensual sound. He had been trying his best not to come undone, to fixate another climax for you.

The feeling of you wrapping tighter and tighter around him drove him insane. “Give it to me, please.” Your muffled plead called for his release, but he could feel that you were close to your second.

Jeno sat up on his knees and pulled you into his arms where your thighs fell over his. You groaned at the empty feeling, though it was quickly replaced with a gratifying moan when he inserted himself again. Your arms dangled around his neck, foreheads touching intimately. 

The fucking eye contact again, how could you get enough of it? You giggled, amused at how different Jeno was when he eventually opened up. He wrapped his strong arms around your back and thrusted his hips up into you. The way this man made you squirm, scream, and shake were nothing you’ve experienced before. 

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek when he went rampage on your pussy. “Not laughing now, are you?”

You whined in pleasure, brushing your fallen strands of hair out of his face. “Shut up before I make you.” 

“Then I’d rather keep going.” Kissing up his jawline, you lead your way to his pout. His kisses intoxicated you with his passion and madness, like the most intense part of a symphony, or when the bass drops after a long build up in a song. 

Jeno sped up, ramming up into your slick pussy over and over again. He even brought your hips down to match him, guiding you down as he went up. The headboard was knocked against the wall, your windows steamed up, cries of pleasure from the both of you created the ambiance, the smell of sex filled your lungs. Jeno reached between your bodies to furiously rub your clit to where it felt almost raw. It all sent you into the clouds, the familiar queasiness settled in your lower half.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, having to pull away from the desirous kiss with Jeno. “I’m cumming!” You announced before the tension unraveled, causing you to see absolute white. The second wave was much more uncontrollable, Jeno felt you squeezing radically around his dick as he tried to fuck you faster to prolong the feeling.

Your legs shook around his and your upper body went limp with pleasure. You reached the peak of the mountain and it came crumbling down underneath your toes. It was catastrophically enthralling, to the point where you physically felt something leave your body.

“Oh shit..” Jeno stopped his motions at the sight of you squirting over his lap. He pampered your torso with fluttering kisses, hoping to calm your spastic body. “...baby, are you okay?” He asked with a bit of concern of how lack of life you seemed. 

This man just gave you the best climax in your whole life and he asked if you were okay? Regaining your senses, you sighed a small yes to reassure him that he didn’t actually murder you. Hopping off, you pulled the condom that restricted him.

He hissed when you cupped his balls in your palm. “Cum, my sweet thing.” You purred and Jeno’s hand pumped his member aggressively. You leaned in to help, sucking the tip and flicking your tongue over his slit. 

His other hand gripped your neck, causing you to drip on your sheets. Jeno was panting and with every tug, it became louder. He seemed so desperate to release that it made you smile to be the reason behind it. “Can you lay down,” A grunt followed his question, “please.” He huffed.

“Because you asked nicely.” Smirking, your back hit the sheets and you opened your legs to give Jeno a view. He situated himself above your stomach, as he fucked his tight grip.

“I’m cumming---” He couldn’t look any more amazing. With a final moan, the white streaks streamed out in short sequences. It landed across your abdomen, over your nipple, and pooled around your belly button. 

Bringing himself back to reality, Jeno stepped back to marvel you, his masterpiece. The white streaks coated your purple skin and your chest rose fast to catch your reality. Gazing upon your naked body, he was utterly infatuated with all of you. He was so in love with the sight of you that not a single photo could capture the beauty that you were. 

Jeno pondered the thought of how merely a day changed a small part of him. You were life changing, addicting, an incomparable character that he felt like he’s known forever, and now, couldn’t live without. It was the taste of your juices on his lips, your sweet melodic music that was your voice, your daring smile that enticed him to never peel away from you. It was simply you. 

He leaned down to rub his knuckles against your cheek, planting a lovingly peck on your forehead. “I’ll go start the water for you.” 

+

Jeno anticipated the reaction of his mentor. He found himself at the same scene he was when he was first given the task. Taemin sat across from him, hunched forward to analyze his new set of photos on his laptop. Raw, unedited photos of you, your body, your details. 

The hum of the air conditioning droned on, driving him mad. Jeno needed one reaction, but Taemin had been silent and expressionless for the past ten minutes. Whenever he did move, it was to click through to the next picture. 

Suddenly, he shut it closed and stood right up. Jeno, panicked, did the same. Taemin stuck his hand out and Jeno hesitantly grabbed it, incredibly unsettled and unable to read the older man.

Taemin received it firmly, giving Jeno a good handshake. “Welcome abroad, Lee Jeno. I expect even more great things from you.” 

Jeno registered his delightful mood switch and he was fast to follow up, “my photos, --- you --- like them?” 

Taemin nodded generously, patting Jeno on his shoulder. Taemin reached up to tap his own eyelids. “What you can see, is very special, kid. You’re an artist and I’m here to recognize that for you. It seems to me, you can do more than take pictures of sidewalks.” 

Jeno smiled happily, his eyes disappearing from joy. He couldn’t wait to tell you about it. 

The rest of the week, leading up to Jeno’s appointment, had felt nothing short of blissful moments together. You and Jeno spent almost every waking minute together without the cost of your friends’ time. He walked you to your classes, some even being across the campus from his own. You accompanied him for meals, even sitting in his lectures to just be with him.

There were no words that established what you two had become to each other. Jeno wasn’t looking for that anyways, in fact, he somewhat liked the ambiguity. If only he could tell you how making love to you made him begin to actually fall for you.

You were never one to hold a serious relationship, but you found a small want for that festering in Jeno. It was hard to admit to yourself, but Jeno saw you for all that you were. He truly saw you, whether it had been through a lens or through his own eyes. He captured your rawness and you were able to find vulnerability around him. 

He ran to you, where you sat in the lobby waiting for him to finish his meeting. Peering up from your phone, you noticed the beaming smile on the boy’s face. You couldn’t hold back your own grin, seeing him apparent with so much joy. “I’m guessing good things?”

“I got it, (Y/N)!” He jumped into your arms and you laughed at the sudden affection. “He loved my photos.” 

“I didn’t doubt it for one second. You’re an artist, Jeno. You create masterpieces that make even someone like me, feel like art.” 

Jeno hugged you closer to his chest, giving you a tiny squeeze. Pulling away to face you, his eyes examined your outstanding grace. You knew what he was already going to say, but simply wanted to hear him say it. “That’s because you are art.”

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