#and my mom saying 1-2 months of talking and maybe meeting up once is all you need before saying yes/no

[transfem-tomboy-oni]

I feel like I should jjust give up on all my "good" qualities and stop trying to be a "good person" and fighting sgainst all my bad qualities. I. I start to feel like there's nothing good coming of it for me, and not enough good for anyone else to actually keep bothering with me.

I feel like the positive things I get told the most is that I'm nice, and that I'm beautiful.

But. Apparently I'm not enough of either for people to... stick around.

I don't know. Even now I don't know what to write. Cuz it might might people unhappy. But.

Maybe I'll try to let what I feel out, for just this once;

I do my fucking hardest, successfully too most of the time, to make people happy, to help them, to make them feel comfortable around me. Cuz all my life no ones ever done that for me. In school people gave no two shits about me, unless it was to make fun of me or get their homework done easier. FOR 9 DAMNED YEARS. Then I switched schools. I guess I had friends. Friends that, as soon as they were not forced to be in the same classroom as me either cut contact or essentially bullied me online. Since then I haven't made friends in person. My own mom has been there for me. As in. Provided for food, entertainment and ignoring my existence otherwise. I got hugged by her for the first time I can remember when I tried offing myself and telling her that I thought I wasn't worth anything and she didn't love me. She graced herself to hug me long enough so I stopped crying and then pushed me away and went back to watching TV alone telling me to go cuz SHE NEEDS A MOMENT. My dad is just inept. Nice. Trying his best. I guess. I used to see him once every 2 weeks, and we talked like 2 hours maybe, where he left me completely to myself otherwise. The person I had contact and an actual "friendship" with the longest eventually started using that friendship and manipulating and breaking apart my entire friend group to just fucking use me as his damned sex toy whenever he felt like it. And I didn't realize for what? 8 or more damned years. That friend group is now so splintered and fucked that I don't even know what the fuck to do about it. Do I still want them? Do they still want me? Pretty sure they don't enjoy me around anymore tbh. Newest friends I made are from therapy or from tumblr, and it's like 5 people in total, 1 if which I haven't talked to in 2 months as I assume she doesn't give a shit about me anymore, at least not that I could tell. And I still really really damned like her but I wish I fucking didn't cuz it's fucking tearing me apart. I suppose I got used to her being there for me and when she wasn't when I was at 2 of my absolute lowest points my mind just broke or something idk. 2 of them I met in therapy and one of them is nice but doesn't have time, which is okay but also annoying to be honest, but it's not her fault I suppose, and the other ignores me whenever she can. The newest 2 ppls I met are nice but I feel like they either are scared of me, I guess at this point rightfully so or don't actually care.

I keep saying that I'm not super likeable when you stick around me for too long and everyone always tells me they don't think so but somehow the only people that seem to have sticked around for years either did cuz they had no choice or in one case because they didn't actually like me and just enjoyed my body.

So. My honest feelings, no one actually cares about making me happy. I want to be treated the way I try my hardest to treat everyone else. I. I'm tired of having and making friends. I can't bear it. I can't bear being alone either. I have been for too long. I. I want this to end, not my life, just this this this dambed conflict of everything. I feel such conflicting things. I'm trying my hardest to make things right for everyone. And I feel like I am not getting enough back to even keep me going until 30.

Love is conditional. And I don't think I am capable of meeting these conditions. Besides all my hatred for how I'm being treated. I still only blame one person. Myself. For just not being good enough.

I wasn't wanted in this world. I was conceived on accident. And I feel that in the way my mother treats me.

But I hoped that maybe someone else doesn't.

Maybe I'll be able to hold on long enough until I can find someone that does want me. Maybe.

I hold so much hope. For such a hopeless person. Such a hopeless world. I wish I could give up.

#nem's ventposting

[goodluckclove]

WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #blind trust #writing #on writing #migration patterns #queer writers #agender #asexuality #songbird elegies #authors of tumblr

[nathanrm]

Alice returns to Wonderland

This idea has always been in my head ever since I started getting into the twst fandom and I just wanna talk about it, what if Alice returns to (twst) wonderland after being gone for many years?

For a bit of context though this Alice will be my own version, a mix of all types of Alice in wonderland content that I’ve seen over the years, my version will be male because 1.my blog is for male and enby readers 2. NRC is an all boys school 3. There are already a lot of female twst reader content to the point when I look up “twst x male reader” there still a shit ton of female reader content

(and yes I will keep Alices name the same despite making him a boy, I just prefer it that way, let’s just say Alice’s mom desperately wanted a girl but Alice was born a boy, so Alice’s dad let his wife let her name the baby boy Alice)

The basics of my idea for this fanfic is that Alice grew up in wonderland being able to visit it when ever he wants with the help of the white rabbit , he’s been visiting since he was young (maybe 3-4 years old) he grew up with the weirdness of wonderland and see the beloved characters as family, King and Queen of hearts are parental figures, mad hatter, the March hare and the teapot mouse as uncles and aunt, and the jabberwock as a giant house pet , and with the rest of the great seven as his other parental figures as well (yes I’m very well aware of great 7 yuu and great 7 yuu is one of my inspirations for this fanfic idea) Alice often stays in wonderland longer than he should but it doesn’t matter since time works differently in wonderland than Alice’s words, Alice can stay in wonderland for week, months or even years but in Alice’s world he’s only been gone for a couple of hours or a day (since we see in the live action, in wonderland Alice has been there for days but when she returns it’s only been a few minutes).

And Alice was somewhat involved with the making of NRC , yes i know this sounds far fetched but I saw a theory about NRC being the evil queens old castle, they even compared pictures of both NRC and pictures from the Snow White movie as proof, since that place is really really old it obviously had a lot of changes to it, and in my fanfic ramshackle was a dorm specifically for students that are from Alice’s world, normal magic less students who are more interested in things that are considered abnormal in their world, like Alice’s natural curiosity for things that aren’t the norm in the Victorian era, here’s a bit of the fanfic for context

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

“My dear do you like the idea of going to this school once it is finished?” The queen of hearts asked Alice as the boy was sitting next to her looking at a book with only pictures in it and little to no words.

-Alice looked up at his mother practically beaming with excitement ”of course mother! Night Raven College sounds like it would a wonderful school! I can’t wait for it to be finished! Meet all kinds of people from other lands, and learning new things from them just makes me excited!” The boy yelled with joy and excitement.

-The Queen couldn’t help but coo at how adorable her son was, his natural curiosity always getting the best of him “well there will be another dorm added for special students” the Queen said to grab her son’s attention

-The Queen had Alice’s full attention now, placing himself on her lap so he can listen to her with wide eyes filled with curiosity and smile on his face “this dorm will be for students like you my dear” she stated then bopping Alice’s nose making him giggle “this dorm will be for students from your worlds” she continued “students who don’t fit in with the norms of their society or government or whatever it is they have there. Magic-less students who have unique qualities of their own to make up for their lack of magic, like how your such a curious little boy, smart and a fast learner!”

-The Queen cheered and tickled Alice making the boy laugh and trying to keep his mother hands from tickling him more, the pair laughed and hugged each other in a loving embrace

-Once they’ve stopped the boy got off his mother’s lap and looked up at her to ask if he could go tell his father, the King of hearts about it, she gave a nod of approval then the boy ran off into the garden to find his father to tell him about the news

And this is the last time Alice sees his wonderland family after going back to his normal family which he regrets a lot because the white rabbit never came back to bring him back to wonderland and he’s been waiting ever since.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

I’m still very nervous to post the stuff I write and draw on here, and I’m still nervous about my writing since I’ve mainly only written stuff for myself for a long time but I wanna share the stuff I write and draw, I’m still new to writing for other people so for those who are way better writers then me feel free to point out any mistakes I make, I wanna learn so I can be a better writer

All of my writing will be male and enby readers so please don’t ever ask for a female reader I’m begging you please just don’t, I will never do female readers, I posted my rules about request before but deleted it because I haven’t posted any of my writing about twst, I will remake it once I’ve posted more of my stuff

I’ve rambled about my version of Alice for twst on @Twisted-wonderland-but-gayer blogs and a lot of their writing inspired me to make my own about twst

Here is some art work of my version of Alice for twst

#twst #twisted wonderland #writing #fanfic #my oc art #my oc character #oc rambles #male reader #enby reader #twst x male reader

[polyamorouspunk]

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Was out with mountain boy last night and 1. I learned how to say ‘i love you’ in latin (te amo) and 2. Very much questioning the whole arospec thing because of this boy. Cause for the first time in my *life* the feelings have lasted more than 2 weeks. Its been 2 months. HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN DATING MOUNTAIN BOY FOR 2 MONTHS

But yeah. And also like. As of last night its like *new feeling unlocked* like I’ve had butterflies but I’ve never had butterflies to the degree that Im *still* having butterflies over something 24 HOURS later. And like. That could also just be from being in the middle of a flare that my emotions just are not regulating correctly but like. I feel like I just unlocked emotions 2.0. So maybe I am the actual rare case of ‘you just haven’t been with the right guy yet’ which is infuriating but also I *like* these feelings

But also on the whole chronic illness front - WE FUCKING HATE IT HERE and Im downing ibuprofen like its candy (that is a joke for those that need told). So if my brain could just stop having the 404 error causing both thinking and motor skill problems atm that would be great

Uuhhhhh OH! And therapy is now once a month instead of every other week so I guess thats a plus

Those are my life updates bro how are you?? I miss chatting with you I feel like I never have time to be on here anymore

*answers like a week later* whaaaat I always have time to chat haha 😅😅

Well I’m glad you feel that way! I know personally I can only feel that way with people I’ve met irl even if it’s just meeting them once. I love that feeling though, I’m always chasing that high.

It’s been two months 😭 where has the time gone

I love my best friend to pieces but hanging out with her and her husband was soooo. For someone who’s “autistic and touch-adverse” homegirl SURE did a 180 on that. Third wheel for a week straight 😐 I support her not conforming to social norms even when it’s embarrassed me in the past but like. Boundaries. When you are with someone else. I always made sure that I was never super PDA or hung up on my ex when we were dating because I never wanted to make someone feel like a third wheel and uh. Yeah that’s why.

I just started my meds back up, I’m back on Prozac after my hiatus from taking meds. It reached the point where I’m like “okay yeah maybe my meds were doing SOMETHING even if they weren’t WORKING exactly so MAYBE I should go back on them and be a LITTLE less crazy”. I intend on starting therapy back up. I have free therapy through work, probably Better Help, but it’s probably better than nothing. I already know my data’s on the dark web from all the times my bank account has been hacked so I don’t need to worry about them selling my personal info 😅

I was planning on graduating this semester but that’s not happening :) so next semester it is.

My mom wants to come back up next summer and my best friend and I have been trying to plan matching tattoos and we talked about getting them up there where I got them last time so maybe I’ll see you then! Sick New World already sold out so I guess that plan is a bust 😅

#punk gets mail

[themultifandomgal]

Chris Argent- It All Started With Parents Evening

Past

The day starts as any normal day for YN. She gets up and gets ready for work making sure she has everything before setting off to Beacon Hills high school. Tonight is parents evening and as she is a teacher she will be there tonight.

Once arriving to the school she sees her mom drop off her younger sister Lydia. YN looks a lot like her younger sister, just a little older, but not majorly as YN is only 28. She quickly greets her mom and sister before walking into the building and into her class room.

Finally it's time for parents evening and YN just has one parent left. Allison Argents dad. She remembered that her mom had passed away a few month ago and Allison's grades had started to slip, which is totally understandable so YN did all that she could to help

"Dad this is my history teacher Miss Martin" Allison says introducing her dad to her teacher

"Mr Argent, it's a pleasure to meet you" YN holds out her hand for Allison's dad to shake

"Please call me Chris" they shake hands and weirdly it feels like sparks are flying

"Dad this is the teacher that I told you about. You know the one who knows about Scott and the others" Allison quietly says

"And your not afraid?"

"Well I was at first but after you hear that your sister has been wondering around naked you find other things to be scared of" YN sweetly smiles at him before they start talking about Allisons grades.

Present time

That was 8 months ago and during that time YN and Chris had been going on a few dates and are now dating. YN also found out much like her sister she is also a Banshee. Today there is a pack meeting at the Hale loft. YN walks in to see only Issac, Derek and Peter in the room

"Hi guys" she smiles and waves at them

"Hi Miss Martin" Issac smiles back. Is it weird that she teaches these guys? Yeah a little so she's carful with what she says to these guys, but soon she will be teaching at another school so it shouldn't be as weird

"Where's Lydia?" Peter asks

"Erm on her way I'm guessing?"

"So who else is here? Chris?" Derek now asks

"No it's just me. What's going on?" YN crosses her arms looking at the 1 boy and 2 men in front of her. Before they could explain Chris and Allison walk in. Chris immediately comes over to YN and kisses her head

"Hey are you feeling better?" he asks his girlfriend

"Yeah a little" YN smiles at Chris

"Why are they staring?"

"Because they are convinced I came with someone else and not on my own"

"YN we heard 5 heart beats" Derek says

"What?" YN looks at Derek confused

"Mine, Peters, Issacs, yours and one more"

"Maybe you miss heard but I came on my own" YN walks over to the fridge to get out a bottle of water.

Finally the others arrive and they hold the meeting, another Alpha is after Derek, great. YN stars to feel unwell and goes over to the bathroom to throw up

"So are you going to tell him or am I?" Derek says as she opens the bathroom door to leave

"Tell him what?"

"That your pregnant"

"I'm not pregnant" YN folds her arms

"You keep throwing up, you look a little bloated..."

"Gee thanks Derek. You know your way to a woman's heart" YN rolls her eyes and tries to move past him but he gently holds her wrist

"I can hear the babies heart beating. It's faint but it's there. If you don't believe me go and take a test" YN pulls her hand away and walks back over to the others. Everyone is staring at her

"Is it true?" Chris asks

"Is what true?"

"That your pregnant?"

"What are you a wolf now and think you can also hear a heart beat?" YN snaps at her boyfriend

"No of course not, but Peter.."

"Of course it would be Peter. Look I don't know. All I know is I'm sick and I'm tired and emotional. I'm going home" YN waves everyone off before driving home.

An hour later Lydia drops by to see her older sister staring at a pregnancy test crying

"YN?"

"Lyds what am I going to do?" YN turns to face Lydia who rushes over to hug her big sister

"Your an adult. It's not like your in high school trying to tell the cheating quarterback he knocked you up. Your in a relationship with someone you love, you have a house and money"

"How am I doing to tell Chris? And oh my god won't this be awkward for Allison?"

"Only if you make it awkward"

Once Lydia went back home YN called Chris over to talk

"Hey" he says entering the house

"I took a test" she sobs "I'm pregnant" YN walks over to Chris who is frozen

"Oh my god"

"I know we've only been together 7 months and there's the age gap. I also understand if you don't want kids because well you have Allison and..." YN is cut of by Chris kissing her lips

"Will you let me talk now?" YN nods keeping quiet

"So what if we have a bit of an age gap I love you and we are going to raise this baby together I'll sell my place and Allison and I can move in here or you can sell this place and move in with me. I don't care as long as we're together and this baby is healthy" YN hugs Chris who rubs her back

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this"

"Hey nothings normal around here"

#chris argent #chris argent imagines #chris argent x reader #chris argent x Y/N #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf

[armyhome]

Lost In Your Love Story | Yeonjun

⇢ summary: Hwa Suji is a very skilled makeup artist who works at her best friend's salon, serving major Korean entertainment companies and that includes the artists she is a fan of: Tomorrow x Together! One day when protecting one of the members, she ends up having a car accident that takes her to another universe! The universe of your favorite fanfic called "Winter Song" but the thing is, life is not a strawberry, her new universe got a target on her back, she's the villain and has no idea how survive this cannon.

⇢ pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Hwa Suji.

⇢ Chapter 1 : Life is not a strawberry.

⇢ Chapter 2 : Love is a Disease.

⇢ Chapter 3 : Made a little cookie...

⇢ Chapter 4 / 5 / 6

⇢ Chapter 7 : Why Don't You Stay?

⇢Chapter 8: Beyond this universe

⇢ Chapter 09 : I know I love you

⇢ Chapter 10: Lips on You

⇢ Chapter 11: Opening Sequence

⇢ Chapter 12: Sour

⇢Chapter 13: Waiting for a lifetime for you

Chapter [14/16]: Breaking Down

POV Suji

Six months later

I took a deep breath and pressed the play on the camera one more time.

"I decide, to start all this, by telling about myself, and how makeup change my life because this is the main point of my life, I meet my best friend, slash, sister, slash, soulmate, during make attempted on became a chemistry engineer, then we give up on university, mom wasn't happy about it, but once she saw our business working out she accepted, even not being happy with that, but she knew overall thing how makeup helps during my teenagerhood!" I applied foundation on my skin blending with the concealer " I suffered an accident at school, and that fine line crossing my face was huge, today is a little bit smaller, but that's when I fall for makeup because hide this, and kids stop calling me monster, etc…" I start to used contour to make my nouse more elevated "I think people don't know real monsters, that's why they use this word so lightly.." I keep recording my tutorial, and practicing speaking to the camera, is getting easier, but always gives me a big headache, dreams that look like memories battle with reality in my mind. I press the stop once I ended, and take a deep breath.

Since I woke up in that hospital, I had crazy dreams, I was so afraid to tell the doctor that I kept to myself, but sometimes they were so real to me that I mixed them with my real world, even more since Yeonjun and I get closer. So I decided to focus as much as possible on the present, recording things, like my day, my make-up, and my thoughts, I didn't post anything, was just the way I found to canalize all those feelings. So TXT's company thought would be great material to help both sides to tell our side of the history since so much was talked about while we aren't able to defend ourselves. 

So I decided to do a makeup tutorial, with all members, but one by one, all with their next comeback concept, something very fairy, with a daydreams vibe, I would show how I work on their skin, which colors I like to use o these concepts, all the details. 

"You know, I almost lose my mind while you don't wake up…" Jieun says helping me organize the makeup, I look at her, this was so random "You know, I kept sending you massages, even knowing you wouldn't respond," I hug her "You're my only family Sujiah, you know that right?"

"You're my family too unnie" I kiss her chick "And you have Taehyun too…" The worlds scape through my mouth, and the moment I close my mouth I know I mixed my dream with reality shit!

"How did you discover?" WAIT! WATH? "Or you finally read the new version of that manhwa and…"

"WAIT! YOU…HIM…OH MY GOD!" breath Suji, breath "Did, you guys have conversations in my room, while I was in a comma?" Jieun searched for her memories…"My god, how long have you guys been together?"

"Little bit before your accident, I would tell you, but this chaos happened, and you looked so fragile when you woke up, I decided to wait until you fully recover.." And maybe my dream was based on the conversations around me… I sigh, this was so much better explanation.

"I'm happy about you two, don't worry, but take care to not hurt yourself, he is an idol, and we know how these things work…" Jieun hugs me.

"I'll take care," She looks at her cell phone, "It's time Yeonjun will be here soon" My heart lose a beat for a while "Do you think will be fine if only two of you are here?"

"Yes, there are things that we only feel comfortable saying when are two of us, things that only we understand without judging, and the camera is a lot of pressure already…" I explain.

"Okay, I will be upstairs, anything, just scream okay?" She kisses my forehead and leaves the room.

I sit in front camera to record some introductions, deep breaths, Hwa Suji, you can do this, fighting, one two three.

"Hi, my name is Hwa Suji! Most of you know me because I trow a trash can on a guy," I laugh "I watched your remakes all over social media, you guys are so much cooler than I! Well, I'm here because a lot of things have been said about me, and I just wanna people to know me, through me. Does that make any sense?" I tight my hair  "And to not say I'm being biased, I'll bring some people that know me to tell, honestly, who I'm… Wellcome mom" I Open my arms like she was in the room, and laugh again "Just kidding, but I'm really bringing people that worked with me, and I'll do my favorite thing on them, make-up! Hope you guys enjoy…" At the moment someone, probably Yeonjun, "Look, someone is already here let's see who it is?" So I pause the recording.

When I open de door Yeonjun gives me the bright smile he has and hugs me, I would never become used to being his friend, I hug him back. 

"How have you been," He asks without letting me go.

"Just much as fine as I was the last time we talk one hour ago" We laugh "How was your training? You're not pushing yourself too hard right?" 

"No, I like promised you"

"Okay, let's start before Parallel 38 appears…" He gently puts me against the wall, I can feel his breath so close, a flash of the dreams in my mind.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" The way he looks at me makes me shiver, and my stomach contract. He was playing with me, I roll my eyes.

"I'll throw a trash can on you if you don't step back.."We laugh at the joke we always use with each other "Let's start recording before HYBE sends the ROKU to me"

"Okay, where do I sit?" I point the cair in my mini scenario "Wow! You really put effort into thins!" He sits on the chair I was sitting before, and I start recording again.

"And our guest today is the amazing, the only one, my best buddy in the afterlife, Choi Yeonjun!" We clap together "You wanna say something Jun?" He looks into my eyes, sometimes I feel he is looking for someone inside me, I don't know how to explain it.

"Hi, I'm Yeonjun of TXT" He browns "First, one more time I wanna apologize to make my love, moas worried! Is really nice to be here, alive with my dearest friend, the best make-up artist on this planet, Hwa Suji! Moa doesn't need to worry about my safety while I'm with noona, cause they know you throw a trash can power!"

"Okay, no more trash can jokes, is enough, let's start work, Jun today has a photo shoot for TXT's next album, and I think moas will love the whole concept" I start to tight his hair and moisturize his skin "Now beyond do makeup we're here to tell about our history, during this chaos…How do you feel when you wake up?" 

"Was like wake up from a long dream…" He simply says " And you noona?" I start to apply the primer.

"The last thing I remember was the car, it feels like we were flying, trying to hold your hand, and then I was in the hospital, The first thing I feel was worry, because that guy, I was afraid that while I was unconscious he was able to do something with you…" I touch his chin to move his face and verify if I fully cover his skin. 

"That's so you, worry more about others than yourself…" I show the primer on the camera, all the products were from labels that TXT's members were the face of the label.

"This prime gives you so much glow, you all will be so perfect for this comeback, how are you feeling about seeing Moas again?" Yeonjun put his right hand on the left side of his chest.

"So excited, I miss them so much!" I start to draw his eyebrows.

"I know they're feeling the same, now can you give they a little spoiler?" I ask starting to softly apply concealer on specific spots.

"Will be really sweet, a lot of Sugar involved!" I start to apply foundation on this skin "Now, my turn, your favorite manhwa will become a k-drama, are you excited?"

"Well a little bit, I heard the author change a feel thing, I didn't have time to read yet because of work, but I'll real soon as possible, L.M. Andrade is my favorite author, so I will definitely read it, maybe I will do a live reading, I don't know…"  I start the work on his eyes "Did you read?"

"Yes," He looks up automatically so I could apply the eyeliner "I like this so much more this version than the previous one" I start to use blush Yeonjun look right into my eyes and I end up applying too much.

"Don't move" I turn to pick the tissue to remove, and once I turn to Yeonjun is like someone scratched my mind, the left eye of Yeonjun is full of tears, and the other is worried "You can hold a little bit Jun, I know that," I say without knowing why I was saying that, so I use the tissue to remove the blush "See, you made it, now your lips," I apply the lip gloss, focus as much as possible "It's done!" I show Yeonjun's face to the camera "Hope you guys enjoy it. See you next time" I just press pause on the camera before I fall, I feel Yeonjun's arms around me. 

"Noona.." The darkness swallows me, and this time I'm completely alone.

#txt fanfic #yeonjun imagines #txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun fic #yeonjun #choi soobin #soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #hueningkai

[po1songore]

warning,this post is comedic but contains triggering behavior and toxic relationships.

embarrassing things my ex did (of 2 years!)

only showered once a week because he thought his tattoos would fade.

only washed his hair once per month because he was bored of straightening it .

that day was when i would be there to blow dry it and straighten it while he was on discord.

only showered when he would meet me because no one else cares

spat on the floor of his room .

broke up with me; locked me at his home with his parents and special needs brother who asked about our break up continously when i was crying *totally not his fault, i just couldnt answer* ,went to his friends and when i went to say bye to his friends next morning they called the police on me and said i threatened to commit. then i was arrested and given 40 days in an asylum which i didnt go because i had a person in that pd.

9 hours after that he called back saying he was sorry.i took him back but when i told him i switched on him selling weed he cried and thew 10 kilos on the sewers.

didnt come to me to the psychiatric clinic he put me in.

hit me in front of his mother

told me that my toxic behavior is why my ex raped me.

called my dad psychotic (my dad has npd, due to trauma but seeked help for it.he also had npd ,not caused by trauma and didnt care about getting help)

once i got diagnosed with bpd i told him what to not tell me to trigger me and he started doing all that.

told me his dream body of me to have is a pornstars

manipulated me, saying he will either go to canada to work and i will wait or he will leave his dream behind for me (when i just said we should broke up.)

spat my face in front of his friends

humiliated me, cussed me out, spat on me an exposed my trauma in front of his friends while i cried and they,who hated me, all were shocked and not enjoying it obviously.

told his friend he is a dick for hugging me when i was crying.

called me a whore and that he was doing me a favor by being with me (i was his first gf for a reason)

when i told him he should get checked for stds because he had gone to illegal brothels in a very shady part of the city ,he told me maybe i should check myself for stds bc i had an ex before (we were both each others first)

told me to not wear my favorite pants because he didnt like them

continued to talk to his friend who 1)flirted w me 2)manipulating me by threatening suicide in easter when everyone was ignoring him and i was the only one who talked to him 3)called me a whore 4) had an obsession w me 5) asked me if my mom has a green card to be in the country bc otherwise his cop dad would kick us out.

I have many more

#toxic people

[nathank77]

4/7/24

7:57 p.m Edited/Significantly Added To 8:36 p.m

This is how I'm perceived:

A fucking nerd. Maybe the choice is obv, I only spent 80$ on glasses. I have two pairs that fit somewhat comfortably. I can wear them in the car and when I'm alone sometimes but I got to adjust to life without them...

I should prob forgo lens crafter, save myself a lot of money for 1 pair of perfect glasses. And start taking photos without glasses for my dating profile. I can stop wearing them in my videos. And really only wear them when I drive.. and eventually not even then.

Eventually I'll adjust to blurry, uncomfortable and weak eye sight and I'll find a girl.

I haven't reached out to Reilly in two days cause I mean let's be real. What's the next step? A date. Telling her I'm trans. Maybe my shirtless photo was enough. Telling her I'm disabled and broke. No girl is going to want me. I got to get out 90% of the bad before I go on that date so I don't get hurt.

Beyond that okay- I do want to date a mom, I want to be a dad. Idc if "step" comes in front of the title. I want family photos, and I want to be needed as much as I need them.

Yet Reilly has 4 children, age does matter to me. One is a one year old.... I can't do poppy diapers and if i could I'd want to go through the entire pregnancy with my gf or wife. Let's say this 1 year old was out of diapers... that would change things. The younger they are the more, "important," I'll be I could even be called dad but my ocd as it stands does not permit me to do poopy diapers. I want a girl who has 2-3 kids, and for them to be able to wipe their own ass. I mean 5- any age..

Beyond that I'm in love with Elise regardless of it is unrequited or not. And I mean I am trying to move on but I don't want to waste anyone's time. Reilly is pretty in that one photo.... there is only one....she's not supermodel material but she's pretty. Although to say I know what she looks like is ridiculous with only one photo...

Anyways, I got to lose the glasses, lens crafters is stupid when it's going to cost me an arm and a leg... and I'm still going to feel like a nerd that no one wants to date.

Maybe I'm being stupid about Reilly bc I still got to break the news. Being a voice hearer would be something I'd tell her like 5-6 months into dating, why? I'm going to prove that I'm sane, and can live my life and do my shit, I'm going to prove I am safe around children and not a danger to society. This applies to any woman... or person I date... I have to prove that if I never told you I had auditory hallucinations, you would have never known bc I'm normal....

But the trans thing and the disabled thing can't be hidden that long obv.... however proving my sanity and safety in terms of having auditory hallucinations can def wait..

I'm so in love with Elise it makes it hard to take anyone else seriously... I mean I suppose if I were to have money to take Reilly out on a date it would be different... I'm always that guy who is like I'd like to meet and I bring up free spots and the girl goes, why not coffee or dinner and then I say well I'm broke... and if she isn't willing to pay it fizzles out... a lot of women go on dates for free food. I wish I wasn't being sexist but my sister does it all the time.. once Katelyn said I'm going on lots of dates with guys who i think are ugly but, FREE CHICKEN WINGS!

Maybe it's just the quality of people I meet rather than "women." It's not women, it's a quality of person...

Either way even if I was loaded I'm not buying a girl a coffee or a dinner on a first date, what's wrong with going to the Park and sitting outside? It's free, peaceful and allows a lot of time for talking.

Anyways I feel undatable.. Elise could not even be a thought and I'm like well... I got all these flaws and most people want to start with coffee or dinner or drinks... and they expect the guy to pay..

Idk what to do. All I know is I'm very in love with Elise. I feel fucking stupid for that. Going back to that song Shape Shift by Silverstein, "I never stood a chance here did I?" I listen to it all the time sometimes on repeat bc with everyone and anyone I never stood a chance at being someone's husband.

I probably can't even get a girl from Kenya... I don't have money and like I said before it's a fucking park date, I'm not buying and having you ghost me, I need my money. Maybe 3 months down the line but I'm not being used nor am I wasting money on someone who won't work out.

For all I know I could date Reilly for 6 months, meet her kids, be a totally normal great guy and tell her I have auditory hallucinations and she may be like I'm sorry it's not going to work out.

I got a lot counted against me. I'm ready to date. I'm so ready. I just feel like I'm undatable...

Like let's say I do have a soulmate and let's say it's Elise, how can I give her what she needs other than love? I would pay for her dinner, I'd pay for her coffee but I couldn't do it often. I would for her bc I know her personally, she's not some random off a dating site.

I'd be a financial drain on her. Or any person I date at that rate. I mean I'd love to take her and her girls for ice cream and picnics that I prepare. I'd like to go to the zoo, a baseball game whatever, but I don't have the money. Not for anyone no matter how much I love them. Not even for just me. I have more money than I did quiting weed but I'm still impoverished...

I can't get her a ring, it would take me years, I can't even pay half for the wedding. This applies to all women but I dream of it being Elise.

Maybe Elise doesn't want anyone seeing all of her photos... maybe that's why it's just her wedding, that's been consistently up for a long time or maybe she was never here and it's all visual hallucinations. Or maybe she's like I'm just a concerned friend and you might be right that this is too personal for me to read. Idk.

Although I didn't screenshot her changes bc I didn't want to be a creep. I wish i had cause I have no proof, her family reunion was up a hour after I posted my post yesterday. I have no proof all her WOW posts disappeared after I posted about my Battlenet account... I don't want to take screenshots. It makes me feel creepy.

If I didnt feel so undatable I'd make more of an effort on Reilly.

Dating me is like dating a pauper... I could have continued to talk to Jenny she did touch my finger when she gave me my phone back but she was one of those girls that I would have had to drop hundreds on bc we both lived in different states and she's not that type of girl to spend money on a guy.

I could find a girl who is willing to spend money on their guy but I feel like a financial drain. I feel worthless. I often think about how much money Katie must have saved cutting me loose.

Who would chose love and personality over financially stability? Tbh probably no one.

[munsonsduchess]

I am back Duchess. I am going to claim an emoji so you know when it is me, and considering I spill all the tea, I'll choose this ☕ (which may or may not be coffee but).

So it is i, who am I? Remember the anon who made out with the guy, who had a friend who liked that guy but was married, and that she had tried to push me to a different guy (Jake) until that guy was a little bit creepy? Yeah hi its me. I mentioned how I was visiting my friend, and she was gonna throw a party?

Well I've taken a few days to process everything. And now im here.

So 1) not quite a party but people were around and we all did hang out. 2) there was a new guy, but not the one my friend wanted me to meet. No, no, no. New guy, going to call Aaron, works with her husband and was invited by her husband. He is nice i guess? I didnt talk to him one on one much, but he was very rambunctious. Apparently, my friend thinks he likes me. I declined for her to give this guy my number. At the end of the night, he shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. It ended awkwardly because he kept holding my hand and I just kind of nodded. My friend thinks there could be potential, I disagree. 3) the guy she wanted to introduce me to, we will call Brad. Brad sounds like a bad idea. Thus the name Brad, as thats the last guy I tries dating and it was a bad idea.

Why is Brad a bad idea? Well well well, thank GOD he was not there. Because, if he was, I probably would have had a meltdown. Why? Turns out HE IS RELATED TO THE GUY I MADE OUT WITH (we are going to go through the ABCs so the dude i made out with is going to be Cole, if I make it all the way to Jake I will probably cry so there is A, B, C and J im) yes. Brad is related to Cole. I did not know that. They don't look relatively alike to me. Regardless, apparently they are. Not only that, but my Friend was telling me about Brad. Brad goes to a wine club once a month, he's in a book club, and he apparently likes those cheese and meet board things. Now, I like books, however I cant stand wine. Hate it. Its too dry. I'd much rather have vodka or a good bourbon. My Friend knows this. Apparently also, as I saw some messages between them two, he calls his mom every day as well as is planning to start online gaming? And eventually quit their job to do fulltime? Which, I do not care for either of those (being a grown adult and having to call your parent every day is something im not keen on). I also am not keen on someone quitting their job just to be an online gamer (but that may because i have talked to a few guys like that before and they have all screwed me over).

thankfully, Brad was not there. Going to point 4) Cole. Guy I made out with. He was there briefly before having to go to work. We didn't get a chance to talk but he smiled and waved at me, also blushed whilst doing. This man has gotten more fine. I hate myself. He was more attractive this time then last and I hate it. I walked to the kitchen to get a snack but had gotten stopped by someone,, and he slid by me as he was leaving, and gently moved me to the side, putting his hands on my hips. We looked into each other's eyes and we both smiled and blushed. The person who stopped me made a comment on the chemistry between us. So that made me awkward.

So long story short, nothing at all happened. My Friend may or may not have brought Cole up multiple times, making me wonder if she still likes Cole. Oh and her husband broke up a fight between two drunk people and kicked them out, that was very entertaining but I have 0 clue what their names were or how they knew them.

So that is the update for now.

It took me a while to get around to this but I am ready to spill the tea.

This is wild honestly

Aaron seems. Nice. That’s about all I can say on that front, the hand holding thing is a little weird but maybe he’s just not great with social cues. Who knows

Brad however. Oh. Those are some big old red flags. The fact that you guys do not seem to have anything in common but books, the whole online gaming as a career thing. There’s a reason why that doesn’t work out for most people. You have to do your full time job and make online gaming your full time job to even get anywhere.

I used to live with someone who quit their full time job for the same reason. Their whole thing was that they were going to be a streamer and get so much money, they were gonna get so hot and then everyone would sub to them and yeah. No.

Look a shark coochie board is just a boujee lunchable for adults. That’s all it is. I will stand by that. It’s cheese, meat and crackers. It’s a lunchable.

I mean it’s nice(?) that he calls his mum so often. A bad relationship with parents for seemingly no reason is a big red flag of mine so the fact that he’s got a decent relationship with his mum seems like a good thing to me.

The whole related to Cole thing is a minefield. I would stay so clear of that. For your own sanity.

Your friend bringing up Cole a lot makes me think she’s trying to suss out what your feelings are for him so she can figure her own stuff out based on what you say. Again. Minefield.

Seems like it was one hell of a gathering tho.

#☕️ anon #duchess answers questions 💌 #the drama of it all

[db-gochifan]

GoChi Winter Event 2022 - Day 3

Days [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Title: Dinner Night Pairing: Goku/Chi-Chi Characters: Goku, Chi-Chi, Gohan, Goten and Misaki (OC) Summary: Chi-Chi is unsure of going out with baby Misaki so soon and the Son family have a Christmas dinner together. Cross-posted on AO3 and FFN

Chi-Chi checked on baby Misaki and fixed her blanket, holding her tighter against her chest. Then she looked up at the three boys in the circle. “I’m still not confident about doing this. She’s so tiny.” “It’s going to be fast, I promise.” Goku assured her and they exchanged glances. “It’s better than going by car in this freezing weather.” “That’s a really good point. Do we still have to go, though? I’d rather stay in tonight.” “Bulma is waiting for us. They are all anxious to meet Misaki.” “I’m sure they will understand if we change our minds in the last minute.” She was almost begging them. “What do you think, Gohan?” “Hmmm…” The fifteen-year old boy folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m really on the fence here. Both you and mom have very good points.” “That’s not really helping.” “I want to go.” Goten shared his opinion. “I want to see Trunks.” “So we have 2x1. You three can do celebrate with them if you want. I’ll stay here with baby Misaki.” “You’re going to stay here on your own on Christmas’ Eve?” “Yes. Not on my own, though. Misaki will be with me.” “I can stay.” “No, Gohan, I don’t want your night to get ruined because of me.” “Mom, it’s okay. I didn’t feel like going anyway.” “Alright, if that’s what you really want. I can make something for us. It’s not gonna be anything typical from Christmas though. Can you take care of your sister for a while?” “Sure.” The mere thought of eating Chi-Chi’s meal was enough for Goku’s stomach to growl rather loudly. He grinned and turned to Goten, kneeling down to be on his eye level. “Son, why don’t we stay in tonight? I know you miss him, but you can see Trunks another day. I promise I’d take you there.” “But dad…” “This is important to your mother. Your sister is very little yet, so it’s not good for her to be out there in such cold weather.” “But I have a Christmas present for him.” “We have another reason to go to the Capsule Corp in the next days.” The youngest Saiyan glanced at his two-month old baby sister and then to Chi-Chi. “Okay.” **** “I think it’s easily -10ºC outside.” Goku said after he walked in. “I couldn’t get many vegetables unfortunately. There’s only ice out there. Everything is frozen.” “It’s okay, that should do it. Thank you.” “Do you need help with anything? Cut some stuff maybe?” “Ah… yeah, sure. You can cut some carrots and tomatoes.” “I can do that.” He walked behind her to get to the other side of the sink. “Thank you for staying in tonight.” Chi-Chi whispered and then glanced over the counter. “Do you think Goten is upset for not going to Bulma’s party?” “It’s very likely, but he will get over it soon, once he gets his present.” “I hope so.” She bit her lower lip. “Either way, I should go talk to him. I can tell he’s been feeling left out since Misaki arrived.” “Well, he used to be the youngest one and now things changed.” “That’s true. But still, I don’t want him to think I don’t love him anymore or any less because of his sister.” “I’m sure he knows that deep down.” “Yeah.” “Oh no.” Goku grabbed her forearm softly. “Are you crying?” “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Chi-Chi let go of the knife and covered her face with her hands. “I feel so bad for him. I’m a terrible mother.” “Don’t say that, you’re an amazing mother. You did a wonderful job bringing our sons up. They are good boys because of you.” “Goku.” She looked at him and blinked a few times before drying her tears. “Thank you.” “You’re…” “Mommy?” Little Goten tugged on her pants and they looked down at him. “What is it, son?” Chi-Chi knelt down, so she could be on his eye level. “Do you need anything?” “Are you crying?” “No, sweetheart.” She shook her head and smiled warmly at him. Then she stretched her arms and picked him up, standing up again. “Everything is okay.” “Hey, Goten.” Goku’s voice echoed and the boy looked over his shoulder, grinning as wide as he could towards him. “Mommy and daddy are making dinner. How about you help us?” “Goku, I really don’t think it’s…” “Can I really?” He looked at Chi-Chi looking for approval, but he could barely hold his excitement. “I suppose it’s okay.” She placed him on the counter. “As long as you don’t touch any knifes or other things that can get yourself hurt or cut you. I know how you can be very curious sometimes.” “Okay!” He said cheerfully. “Do you want some carrot?” She offered him a small piece of the vegetable and Goten quickly grabbed it, shoving it into his mouth. “Can I have another one?” “Yes!” “Here you go.” She gave him another piece and he looked at Goku, swinging his little legs back and forth. “How do you say it again?” “Thank you, mom.” “You’re welcome, darling.” “Goten, daddy needs to cut some tomatoes. Do you want to help me?” “Sure!” “Don’t let him get near a knife, Goku.” “Don’t worry, I’ll watch him the whole time.” He picked the boy up and placed him near where he was. “Meat! Can I eat some?” “You’re definitely a Saiyan.” Goku couldn’t help but laugh. “Huh?” “Not yet, Goten. It’s raw, we need to cook it first.” “Ah.” He seemed to be disappointed, but kept on swinging his legs happily. “You don’t have to wait much longer, sweetie.” Chi-Chi came with a themed plastic glass with grape juice and handed it to him. “In the meantime, you can drink this.” “Thanks, mommy.” “Wow, Chi-Chi, this is one of the best meals made by you that I’ve ever had.” Goku leaned back on his chair and threw his head backwards, rubbing his stomach. “People can try, but no one else cooks like you.” “Thank you, Goku. That means a lot, considering we did it in the last minute. I don’t take the entire credit though. Each one of us helped a little tonight. So I want to thank you all.” “You’re welcome, mom.” Gohan replied beside Goten. “I also want to apologize for not having enough time to prepare a dessert.” “Hey.” Goku rubbed her arm softly. “We didn’t plan on staying in tonight. You did your best with what you had.” “I know, but you know me.” Chi-Chi looked at him. “I like getting the whole thing done.” “I do know it. But hey…” He looked around. “We’ve got fruit. Yummy and healthy. It’s perfect.” “You’re out of this world, you know that?” “Quite literally.” He laughed it off. “My favorite outer space human.” She touched his forehead with hers briefly. “But I don’t think we have enough fruit for everyone.” “It’s okay, I can get some.” Gohan pushed his chair away and stood up. “I can do it, Gohan. You don’t have to worry.” “It’s very cold outside, mom.” “Actually, why don’t you let me take care of Misaki and Goten while you go get more fruit?” “You want to take care of them on your own?” Chi-Chi raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Of course! It’s just for a few minutes, I can totally do it.” “Alright then.” She stood up. “Gohan, I want to go too.” Goten jumped on his big brother. “Goten, it’s really cold for you to go outside at this time.” “I can handle it.” He insisted. “I’m also a… Sai… Sai… what does daddy say again?” “A Saiyan.” Goku said, clearly enjoying the situation with his little replica. “That’s right, you are. And a strong one.” “Yes! I can help you.” “Okay, okay.” Chi-Chi gave in. “But you need to put on very warm clothes first.” “Got it.” “Come on, I’ll help you.” Gohan teleported to the second floor, to their bedroom. They arrived just in time as her voice echoed around the house. “I said no teleporting inside the house!” **** “The snow is really dense. I can barely walk on it.” Chi-Chi tried to reach the orchard area of the house. “Come on.” Gohan stretched his hand towards her while holding Goten’s leg over his shoulder and she took it immediately. “Uh… mom?” “Yeah?” “What happens if the fruits are frozen and we won’t be able to eat them?” “I guess I didn’t think about it. If they are frozen, we won’t be able to eat them. I’m sorry for making you two come out here for nothing.” “It’s okay, mom.” Gohan turned around to go back inside. “Son, can we talk for a moment?” Chi-Chi held his forearm and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Sure.” “I never really asked you how you feel about Misaki and having a sister.” “How do I feel about it?” “Yeah. I’d like to know your feelings about it.” “I feel good about it. It’s good to have another girl in the house, for a change. There’s been only one until a few months ago.” “That’s true. But this isn’t about me, I wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling left out. And also to let you know neither me nor your father love you any less because of her.” “I know, mom.” He smiled reassuringly to her. “Good.” She fixed the collar of his jacket and looked into his black eyes. “I’d also like you to know that you can come talk to me about anything, okay? Anything at all.” “Thank you.” He put his arm around her and she buried her face on his jacket, leaving wet stains on it. Gohan rubbed her back until she stopped crying and sobbing. **** “Goten and Misaki finally fell asleep.” Goku walked into the living room, only to find Chi-Chi filling some socks that were hanging on the fireplace with candies and small gifts. There was a soft and warm smile on her lips as she thought about how excited Goten gets during Christmas time. She could barely wait until Misaki was old enough to understand things. “What are you doing?” “I’m stuffing things in these socks so the kids can find them tomorrow.” “That’s really cool.” He grinned. “Do adults get one too?” “You want one?” “Yes! I mean, if I can have it.” “Sure, of course you can have it.” Chi-Chi looked at him and smiled. “In fact, I was already filling one up for you.” “You were?!” “Of course. We’re all children at heart.” She said in a warm tone and resumed her task. “Everyone in this house deserves a sock on Christmas.” “Can I get mine now?” “No, Goku. I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow like everyone else.” “Ah, that’s not…” He saw her disapproval look and immediately became quiet. “Alright.” “However, I got something for you. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but it’s guess it’s okay to give it to you tonight.” “That sound exciting! What’s it?” “It’s in our bedroom.” “Chi-Chi, isn’t it…” He couldn’t help but glance down her body. “No!” Chi-Chi blushed heavily and screamed. “I’ve hidden it in our wardrobe. I’m done here, so we can go to bed now and I’ll give it to you.” “That sounds great.” “Let’s go then.” Goku was getting a little impatient with Chi-Chi doing other things like setting the bed up. He was dying to know what she had bought him. “Chi-Chi, did you forget about my gift?” “Oh, that’s right.” She looked at him and pressed her palm against her forehead. “I completely forget it. I’m sorry. I’ll get it now.” She walked to their wardrobe and grabbed a small box from the top shelf. Then she held it tightly in her hands and lied down on the bed beside him. She handed him the box couldn’t help but smile seeing his puzzled expression. “Here it is. Open it.” “Okay.” His suspicious look remained on his face until he opened his gift. It immediately changed to a happiness one and he didn’t even bother holding how he was feeling in. “A brand new pair of blue wristband!” “It’s something very simple, but I hope you enjoy it.” “Are you kidding me? This is great!” He said cheerfully and hugged her tight. “I love getting fighting accessories.” “I know.” Chi-Chi smiled warmly. “Thank you so much! I loved it! I can’t wait to show them to the boys tomorrow. Vegeta is going to freak out!” “I’m glad you really liked it.” “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” Goku put them back into the box and put it away on the chest of drawers behind him. “Did you choose them yourself?” “I did.” She nodded her head. “Actually, I didn’t really choose them, I designed them.” “What?!” “I made them on my own a few days ago, while you were away training.” “Chi-Chi.” “I don’t know why you seem so impressed. You know I’ve been designing fighting clothes for both you and Gohan for a few years now.” “I know, but wristbands too? They seem harder to be designed.” “Not really, to be honest. I thought they were going to, but they were actually quite easy. I made a pair of Gohan too, a red one. And I think it’s time Goten gets one too.” “Goten too?” He blinked in surprise. “Does that mean you…” “I think it’s time he starts learning to fight. The basics, he’s still too little to get into intense training.” “That’s okay, as long as he gets to learn it. But I thought you wouldn’t want him to train, like you did with Gohan.” “Well, I still think education is the way to go, but I think we can find a balance between it and fighting. It was actually my idea. I had suggested it to Gohan a few months after Goten was born. We were supposed to do it together, but the plans changed a little I guess.” “You were going to train him with Gohan?” “With everything that happened with Cell and you being gone, I thought it wouldn’t hurt. He could help protect the Earth if needed.” “We can still train them together. I’m sure he’d love to know his mother was once a fighter too.” “And I don’t mean to brag, but a very good one.” “I have absolutely no doubt about it.” Goku grinned. “This is exciting.” “We’ll talk more about it soon. For now I just want to sleep and rest before Misaki wakes up in the middle of the night, hungry.” “That’s a very good idea.” He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

#GoChi #Son Goku #Goku #Chi-Chi #ChiChi #Son Gohan #Gohan #Son Goten #Goten #OC #Dragon Ball Z #DBZ #Fanfic #Fanfiction

[unknown-anomaly]

9.15.22 (4:49 PM)

I took a second and realized I wrote stuff from here in the past. It made me think about how I liked writing down certain events because the brain can forget sometimes. It’s also funny because it seems that since 2015, nothing has changed from my parents but everything has changed for me. 

I broke up with M within that same year (2015). He took a step too far when I was meeting with my friend JC returning from being overseas since he was part of the army. M started being more controlling and showed up to our dinner because he “didn’t think it was right I was having dinner with another man.” I told him to fuck off because if he thinks I’m going to get rid of my friend for many, many years with someone I just met he was sadly mistaken. 

Fast forward to around October 2015 I meet my now husband. Today, I find out that M got married to another woman but shortly divorced once they had a kid. Why? Because all of the things I’ve mentioned earlier in my posts here. 

I’m quite sad. I should be working right now and finishing some decks but I have no energy. My husband threw it off because I thought there would be an area of support but there isn’t, just in this moment I’m talking about. 

To recap whoever I’m talking to here - Since October 2015 I met my now husband as I already mentioned. We were speaking for a few months and by the time May of 2016 hit I packed up all my shit and I left my house. I moved in with his family and stayed with them for a little over 2 years. It makes sense now reading some of the stuff my parents put me through and continue to put me through.

Without dwelling into the past too much, my parents did something fucked up. They continue to do fucked up shit. My sister gave birth and my parents chose to start drama with my sister and her husband because they don’t like her husband. I’m really oversimplifying this but long story short I’m not speaking to my parents anymore. I’ve removed them from my life and maybe there will be another time I want to go into this but not now. 

I realized they’re not only emotionally immature parents but they’re also narcissists. They don’t care for themselves. I’ve been feeling alone for so many years and I continue to feel very alone. I wish I wrote more from 2015 to now because so much has happened. But back to today, my husband and I got into a program that takes couples of one Jewish partner and one non-Jewish parter on a subsidized trip to Israel. 

We already visited my family in Israel back in May 2022 for our 1 year wedding anniversary. It went great. It went really swell. I felt like they really got the chance to know me and my husband and I felt more welcome there than I ever have felt. Until today. 

I let my cousin in Israel know the dates we’re planning to be in Israel and that we want to extend to see them. I asked her to not say anything until we actually get everything settled. She ended up telling her mom (my aunt) in which my aunt said she wants to speak to me first about the arrangements. It’s as if because I’m choosing to not be involved with my family anymore that things are .sensitive now.”

The part where I feel the most alone is that when things were going down with the whole situation, I reached out to my aunt here, my grandma here, and my family in Israel for help. Everyone turned their backs on me. Everyone continues to enable my fucking parents. And although I understand that I can’t change anyone and that they need to see the change themselves, I can’t help but feel... 

I can’t even fill out that part because I just feel hallow. Hallow that I’m smart. Hallow that I see past this BS. Hallow that no one understands me. Hallow that I’m alone. Dispare. 

I understand that my family in Israel knows my dad better than they do me but when I went to them for help no one wanted to speak to me or get involved! I asked a few times and begged because we needed help here and they didn’t want to help! That part is fine because everyone has a choice but why is it that when I asked for help they had a choice in the matter but I don’t have a choice in the matter to speak with my aunt? 

My aunt wants to talk to me before we come to Israel because my dad went to Israel to tell them everything that is happening. She made her decision a month ago when she chose not to get involved. I’m passed it. I’m going through my cycles of grief and processing things on my own. I’m moving on. I’ve told my sisters I don’t care what relationships they have with my parents but they’re done with me and the only thing I can hope for is that they know how to have a relationship with me without my parents being the lifeline. 

Who is there to help me? No one. I’m always helping myself because it’s me, myself, and I. Solo ride until I die because I got me for life. This is where my independence, fierce independence, stems from. How long can I be the mature one? The one that is calm and collected? No one understands me and I feel like I’m itching to find someone that does besides my fucking therapists. 

[gdayinla]

Tuesday, July 19, 2022

It’s one of those days where music doesn’t sound good.

I’m not concerned since food still tastes good. There’s times where both aren’t good and I spend more money buying food from restaurants because eating won’t be good unless it’s one specific thing.

That’s the ‘tism for ya.

At work I’ve just finished my container of yogurt pretzels- but I’ve bought a new container that are at home on my counter. I’ll bring them tomorrow.

I need to decorate my apartment. The walls need to be claimed. It doesn’t feel 100% mine with blank walls. I need to put something up. The gram situation is what I’m maybe slow on.

I realize once again I’m at my desk with my AirPods in and no music is playing. I like to have them in with nothing playing over silence without them in. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m used to them. Maybe it some kind of comfort thing. I then debate again if I want airpod max’s. I like O’s. They’re cute. They sounds similar to AirPods but sit over the ears and have a slight different I feel.

But I don’t need them, so we’ll have to see.

I brought a different lunch today. Tortellini. I’m happy to eat it later. Switch it up a bit. Hopefully we sit outside for lunch. We didn’t yesterday and lunch was quite stressful yesterday tbh. I appreciate the lunch breaks I take with E, A and P. It’s such a late lunch at 2pm but it’s something I look forward to.

Each day I get hungrier and hungrier and maybe eventually give up and start to eat- but then one of them asks if I want to join. And I happily move to eat with them downstairs.

It’s nice out midday in LA most of the time. In the courtyard area we get a cool breeze. And I don’t know if I feel like eating outside alone. And so I wait until 2- but that’s not for 2 1/2 more hours. We’ll see.

——

Well the only music that sounds good is Phoebe Bridgers so maybe I’m just sad today idk

I did have a fucking awful dream last night though.

My sister died in my dream. And it was heart breaking. Dad was going to speak at the memorial and mom and I realized his speech was not something that should be read. So I improvised. And I had to get up in front of so many people that I know and tell them all that Emma and I hadn’t spoken in two months, but missed her more than anything.

And now that I think about the dream, I can’t imagine her saying the same thing about me. I don’t know. But we went through the whole process of someone dying up until the funeral, I think.

And then I woke up and texted her to make sure she was okay.

“yes”

So that’s good that she’s fine. She had nothing else to say though, which didn’t surprise me.

I’ve seen so many videos on tik tok of people talking about how they cut off their siblings. And while Emma and I don’t talk, she hasn’t cut me off. And I don’t know if we’ll ever really talk again. All I have to say when people ask, is that we haven’t talked since I graduated two months ago and I don’t know how she is. I don’t know what she’s doing.

And most days I decide that I’d be okay if we didn’t. That I can’t let negativity impact me that way and blood being thicker than water is just something people say to guilt families or friends to act a certain way.

But days like today I don’t know if I want that. I miss how things were four years ago. I get Snapchat memories of us laughing and talking.

We all might’ve been better off if she didn’t come to graduation.

Time to log onto a meeting about festival grids. Fun stuff.

—-

I force O to get the mail like I always do. It’s 90 outside but we’re in the shade and it’s refreshing. He opens a fan letter addressed to a client. He keeps the photo of two star wars characters- it gets pinned up at his desk. I need to bring a photo of Zuzu.

We hang outside with L and D for a while for a break. We talk about college and how NYU had Taylor Swift speak- and O was front row and so close to her. I tell him I’m mad at him because of it.

We make our way back inside and back up nine floors on the elevator.

Everyone but A & E have been feeling off today. I’ve made multiple mistakes today. A & E have been having a grand day entertaining one another at their desks. The three of us had lunch earlier today. It was nice. We ate at 1, which I appreciated.

But now at 4 I’m hungry again and thinking about that portobello mushroom sandwich

I try not to be one of those people that counts down the hours until you can leave for the day. It only makes the time go slower.

48 minutes left

Yes, I am counting. It’s just one of those days. The morning felt fast and the afternoon seems to be dragging.

I need to go to target but I think I will get dinner first in Westlake.

Listening to videos by the Dodo while I work. It puts me in a better list and I’m also contemplating shake shake for dinner.

And then the office is left to B, me O and A. And it’s 6:30.

Another A and E are always the last assistants here and it’s the first time we’re here after them.

And I leave just before seven.

This portobello mushroom sandwich has been on my mind since I had it weeks ago.

My uncle doesn’t tell me what dressing he wants on his salad when I order. The employee recommends a lemon tahini so he better like it.

And then I start to his house. The sun is setting. It’s so calming to be out here.

I eat my portobello sandwich from Natural Café and watch Family Feud. The strawberry banana peach smoothie I ordered is amazing.

We watch America Says. With these shows we yell out answers at the tv whether they’re correct or not.

After I’ve yelled poodle at the tv too many times, I get my things together and start the drive home.

I put on I Know The End as I leave like I do every time. I roll the windows down and the wind blows through the car windows.

I think about how tired I’ll be in the morning but I’m not too upset about it with the song playing.

Zuzu is mad at me but not until we’ll after I shower. Don’t know why.

I get ready for bed.

[xoxo-teddybear]

The Bakugou Kids - Bakugou Katsuki

(Dad)Bakugou x (Mom)f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, Cursing

Summary: Bakugou and Y/N love their son with their entire beings, but sometimes, parents need a break. Especially when those parents are responsible for creating a literal demon spawn. He is kind, well behaved, and cute of course! But he does have Bakugou blood in him. With Y/N already away on a girls trip, Bakugou has to find out how he’s going to deal with his (now) many, many kids.

A/N: You passed down your duplication quirk down to Katsuo.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You asked your husband as you stood at the doorway. “Katsumi may be a calm baby but she’s still a baby. And Katsuo’s quirk just kicked in and it is mine. I would know how difficult it can be to manage.”

“Stop worrying, Babe. It’s just a duplication quirk. And he’s only 5, how powerful can it really be?”Katsuki said, wrapping his arms around you. “Just go on your little girl’s trip with Ponytail and Racoon Eyes. I can handle the brat.”

You looked at your husband with a raised brow and smile before rolling your eyes and giving him a kiss. “Alright then. I’ll see you in a few days!”

With that, you walked out of the house and into the cab to meet your friends at the resort. Katsuki chuckled before walking back into the house to find his son napping on the couch. His spiky, blonde locks were all messed up with bed head while his E/C eyes he inherited from you remained shut. Katsuki walked over to his newborn daughter and picked her up while he took a seat next to Katsuo’s sleeping form, rubbing at his soft hair until he woke up.

“Can’t be all that bad, right Katsumi?”

The baby girl merely cooed with sparkling ruby eyes that mimicked her father’s.

—

Wow. Wrong. He was so wrong! It had only been 2 days since your departure but things had already gone so wrong! When you said your quirk was difficult to manage, Katsuki thought it would be difficult for Katsuo to manage. Not him!

Katsuki should’ve known his son would’ve taken the opportunity to act out while his mother was away. He had always been your little angel while Katsuki saw him as his little gremlin. With Y/N gone, Katsuo has been pushing all kinds of limits. Limits that had Katsuki beat.

Katsuo had been fortunate enough to inherit a quirk. And not just any quirk, but your quirk. Duplication. Basically, he can create copies of himself. When you were his age, you could only create 4, max. Katsuo was different though. He had Bakugou blood flowing through him. He was advanced the second he was born. So now, Katsuki was stuck looking after Katsumi, Katsuo, and Katsuo’s 16 other copies.

“Aye! Number 15, you’re gonna break that lamp! 11 and 8! Don’t wrestle in the mud! Go take a bath! NUMBER 3 GET OFF THE KITCHEN ISLAND! KATSUMI!” The adult blond screamed, looking for his infant daughter, eventually finding her sleeping in her little rocker on the living room floor. “Oh right, you don’t talk yet.”

Katsuki sighed as he slumped down next to his daughter, and leaned his back against the couch. He looked around the room and saw the 17 Katsuo’s making a ruckus around the house. All he could do was question how the hell is 3 month old daughter could possibly sleep through all this.

Katsuki almost lost all hope for humanity until a knock was heard on his front door. Knowing exactly who was there, he quickly got up from his place on the floor and ran to the entrance. “You idiots are finally here!”

Katsuki pulled in his 3 friends, the boys of the Bakusquad, and slammed the door shut. The 3 friends all stood in shock at the sight of the house. Not that it was overly messy or anything. It’s just that there were about 16 more figures in the house that aren’t usually there.

“You gotta help me!” Katsuki said, running infront of them, shaking his best friend’s shoulders. “I love my kids! I do! I love Katsuo, I swear! BUT I DIDNT SIGN UP TO BE A FATHER OF 18 FREAKING DEVILS!”

“Okay! Okay, relax man. We’re here.” Kirishima said, patting his friend’s shoulder as he wept. “How the hell are we gonna take care of 17 little Bakugous?”

“Right? We thought 1 Kacchan was a lot. Then you brought another one into the world, who apparently brought some unannounced friends.” Kaminari joked.

“They’re demons!” Katsuki exclaimed. “This has to be some fucking Karma for the shit I did. I knew I should’ve listened to my old hag better. Now shits came back to bite me in the- HEY! PUT YOUR SISTER DOWN! SHE’S NOT A FOOTBALL!”

Katsuos number 7 and 5 placed a sleeping Katsumi back in her rocker with an annoyed pout before running off to play something else.

“Welllll, there’s nothing that 3 cool uncles can’t fix!” Sero enthusiastically said. “Hey kiddos! Who’s ready to have some fun?”

All the mini blondes stopped their movements, some freezing mid-air, and looked to the slim man. They all shouted in joy at the sight of their uncles and ran to pounce on the 3 men, including their father. From the point of view of the boys in the Bakusquad, it looked like a Bakugou stampede.

“Run, run, RUN, RUN, RUUUNN!!!!” Kaminari screamed as the boys all ran for their lives to escape the herd of Katsuos. This was going to be an interesting day.

—

Safe to say after the day had passed, the boys of the Bakusquad were completely exhausted. Sero had half his clothes torn, Kirishima’s hair fell from it’s great spikes and even lost some red hues, Katsuki’s eye bags had never been heavier, and Kaminari was just straight knocked the fuck out. They were all thrown across the couch as Katsumi rested in Katsuki’s arms.

“What do we do?” Kirishima exclaimed.

“I don’t know.” Katsuki said, looking at his scrambling son(s). “There’s just too many.”

“And we’ve already lost a soldier.” Sero said pointing to Kaminari’s sleeping form. Katsuki and Kirishima followed his gaze and bowed their heads in respect towards the defeated Kaminari.

“Well now what? Is Bakugou just supposed to live like this for the next 3 days?” Kirishima asked.

“Hell no. If I do, there’s not gonna be anymore Katsuki. I’ll just be some body without a soul because my damn gremlins sucked it outta’ me.” Katsuki said with his head dropped down.

“Well how do we get them to calm down?” Sero questioned.

“I don’t know. They’re all mini me’s. Nobody could get me to relax.” Katsuki said in defeat, but that’s when Kirishima had a lightbulb go off for him.

“Except for Y/N!” The red head said, popping up from his seat on the couch.

“Uh, if you haven’t noticed Shitty Hair, this all started because she’s away on her trip.” Katsuki said with sarcasm as he looked at his friend as if he was an idiot.

“I know that! But Y/N wasn’t the only one to tame you, Bakugou!” Kirishima said in excitement.

“So then who else?” Katsuki asked.

“You know,” Kirishima smirked. “Denki’s favorite person. Y/N and.........”

It took Katsuki a second before his eyes popped when he finally got it. “No!”

“Yes!” Kirishima said.

“No way! We’re not going to her!” Katsuki complained.

“Who?” Sero asked.

“Nobody!” Katsuki screamed.

“Oh it’s somebody alright! Somebody who was able to tame the beast in Bakugou the second he was born!” Kirishima said.

“Who?” Sero asked. Katsuki finally sighed before he gave in, realizing this was his only hope for sanity. He grabbed his phone and made a quick call before explaining to his dark-haired friend.

“The demon of all demons...”

—

The door opened to reveal a tall standing brunette and an elder feminine blonde.

“...My mother.”

—

The boys of the Bakusquad all sat lined up on the couch as Mitsuki stood at Katsuki’s end and smacked her son’s head.

“You idiots! Y/N leaves for 2 days and all hell breaks lose?!” Mitsuki screamed at the 3 young men.

“You old hag! Quit hitting me! Ima’ grown man for crying out loud!” Katsuki screamed as he rubbed his head. Masaru simply bounced the sleeping Katsumi in his arms as he watched the scene play out.

“Well if you’re such a grown man then why can’t you manage your own kids without your wife’s help?!” Mitsuki argued, leaving Katsuki silent as he grumbled. The eldest blonde sighed before continuing. “Alright listen, I’ll watch these little devils for the next few days until Y/N comes back. I’d love to spend some time with my grandbrats. Why don’t the 3 of you go take a break and-“

“THANKS! Let’s go losers!” Katsuki said dragging his friends to the exit. Mitsuki and Masaru only laughed at their son’s behavior as they began tending to the kids.

The boys of the Bakusquad all quickly walked out of the house and headed for their cars as they all walked together.

“So, where to?” Sero asked.

“We could go head up that new resort in Tokyo!” Kaminari suggested.

“Naahhh. That’s where Y/N’s having her girl’s trip. Wifey would kill me if she saw me there instead of at home with the kids.” Katsuki said with his hands in his pockets. Kirishima raised his brow at this.

“Oh? So then, maybe we should go back and-“

“You know, on second thought,” Katsuki said with wide eyes once Kirishima made the suggestion. He took his hands out of his pockets and placed them behind his friend’s backs to keep them moving. “Maybe she won’t kill me..if I’m lucky..and wish..upon a shooting star....a million times over. Hah.....yeah. TO THE RESORT!”

As they walked, Kaminari attempted to look at the house once more, prompting Katsuki to turn his friend’s head back around. “No, no, no, don’t look back, they can smell fear.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha #bakugou x reader #domestic bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha katsuki #my hero academia bakugou #my hero academia #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #boku no hero academia #boku no hero bakugou #bakugou fluff

[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

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Secret’s Out

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.

She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”

Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”

Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.

“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.

As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.

Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.

He just shrugged.

Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.

“Thank you,” she told the waitress.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”

“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”

It was a warning.

From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.

That sure shut him up.

“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.

A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.

As soon as he opened it, he froze.

“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”

Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.

“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”

But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.

“Thank you,” he announced.

It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.

Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.

These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.

Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.

“What?” Y/N asked.

She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.

Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.

It wasn’t from her childhood.

It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.

After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.

“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.

It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.

Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.

Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.

Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood. 

Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all. 

Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.

Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.

As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.

“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.

“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.

“People gawking at you.”

Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.

“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.

Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.

Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.

Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”

Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor. 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”

——————

Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.

When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.

He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.

But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.

“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.

But they were all about the same thing.

Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.

BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N

BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK

IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?

All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.

Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them. 

Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.

Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”

Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.

“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.

“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”

Jason grabbed his own phone.

One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation. 

Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father. 

“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.

“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”

Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.

Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.

She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”

“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.

And he was right.

Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.

Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.

“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”

“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”

“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”

“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”

“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”

“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.

Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.

Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.

“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.

There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.

“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”

“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”

She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”

“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.

“You don’t care?” She scoffed.

“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”

Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.

“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed lightly at that.

“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”

Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”

“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”

Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported. 

But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...

What would life be like as a Wayne?

------------------------------

Father of Mine – Bonus Content

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #father!bruce wayne #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batdad #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #red hood x reader #batfam #batboys

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

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