#this man really did not give a shit about the rules once they applied to him

[jade-lynxx]

Chen Xiaoshi: Our smallest action, no matter how well intended, can have consequences we never could have foreseen and I now understand and respect our rules Lu Guang after losing someone he cares about: Oh yeah fuck that shit lol

[gerrystamour]

the fire is so delightful

For: @mojowitchcraft / weird_witchcraft

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Max "Maxine" Mayfield

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 5,500

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Max's dad in this, Steve Harrington is a Christmas Lover, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Frottage, Dom/sub undertones

Summary: Eddie hates Christmas. Steve, and his daughter, loves it. Eddie decides to grin and bear it.

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

[ READ ON AO3 ]

All great things come with a certain amount of sacrifice, Eddie told himself that everyday.

So when the hot school teacher that frequented the bar Eddie worked asked him out, he knew there had to be some sort of catch.

He knew Steve was a single dad well before he asked Eddie out and he’d decided that was just fine by him. Eddie loved kids, was great with them even, plus Steve already told him he had a rule about not introducing new partners to his kid too soon. The kid was absolutely not a sacrifice, in Eddie’s mind.

He also knew that Steve was what one might call a jock, athletically inclined and holy shit, did he look like it. Eddie’s high school self was wailing and screaming about him falling for the enemy, but the first tumble between the sheets proved that the athleticism only did good things for things like stamina, strength, power. So once again, not a sacrifice.

Steve was hilarious, dedicated, hot as hell, and the perfect father. He was accommodating and kind, while also the bitchiest, most savage gossip in the entire world. He was also the best goddamn lay Eddie had ever had, what with the way he took control and helped still Eddie’s racing thoughts, sent his mind straight into the stratosphere where he couldn’t think about anything other than the pleasure he was feeling at Steve’s focused hands.

No, they made it three whole months into their relationship before the moment of truth came.

It was actually two months into the relationship when the first hint came up, if Eddie had been paying any attention at all.

“I’m not much of a Halloween person,” Steve had said when Eddie asked why the decorations on his front lawn were so lame. “Neither is Max, so we don’t really go all out.”

That was insane to Eddie, absolute serial killer vibes. There were several seconds where he was actually contemplating if they would work out.

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right person to show you how awesome Halloween is,” Eddie had teased as he crowded Steve against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe,” Steve had replied with a lazy smirk, glancing at Eddie’s mouth. “Definitely happy to let you try to change my mind.”

And damn, did Steve let him try. That beautiful man went to every goddamn haunt and ghost walk that Eddie dragged him to, and he even smiled through most of it. Steve even found something nice to say about everything they did, even the things that Eddie caught him giving bitchy eyerolls at.

By mid-October, Steve had decided it was time that Eddie met his daughter Max, and their first bonding experience was hitting up the Spirit Halloween and getting her a sick costume and then getting half a dozen pumpkins to carve together. They spent the whole afternoon gutting and carving them while Steve cleaned and roasted the seeds and made other treats and dinner for all three of them.

It had been a perfect day, one that ended with Eddie spending the night at Steve’s house, in his bed, and eating breakfast with both Steve and Max. It was one of those times that Eddie realized he was falling in love and falling fast. That morning, Max had asked Eddie if he would take her and her friends trick-or-treating and Eddie thought his chest might explode it felt so full of affection for the twelve-year old.

The moment of truth came sometime around the beginning of November when Steve came to the bar and bopped his head to the Christmas music that was already playing.

“Annoying, right?” Eddie groused, and Steve raised an eyebrow with one of his patient smiles.

“What is?”

“The music. Halloween just ended and we’re already being subjected to the sickening upbeat nonsense for a capitalist holiday?” Eddie had explained grumpily while he shined a glass. When he’d looked up at Steve, he barely caught the weird expression that was quickly wiped from his face.

“You don’t like Christmas?” Steve had asked, and he was smiling but there was something off about it.

“No,” Eddie said honestly and flatly, and Steve did that little laugh he did only when he was trying to not say something. “Do you?”

“Yeah, but like, a normal amount,” Steve said and then he quickly changed the subject.

After that, Steve seemed reluctant to invite him over until Thanksgiving and Eddie pushed about it. When he finally did, he got all the answers he needed.

Steve’s house was… well, lets just say what it lacked for Halloween decor, it definitely made up for with Christmas stuff. There was a big inflatable Santa and reindeer in the front lawn, and honestly the Christmas lights were so well done they looked professional. Like, straight out of those Christmas commercials.

When Eddie stepped into the house, he quickly realized that Steve was likely a lot more into Christmas than “a normal amount” like he claimed. Every surface had some sort of decor, and there was a stand in the front room for a real tree. Staring at that stand, Eddie kind of hoped he was invited along to go shopping for a tree, which was stupid because he hated Christmas.

“Sorry for all the, y’know,” Steve had said as he scrubbed the back of his neck, gesturing around. “This is our thing, me and Max’s I mean.”

“Stevie, babe, you don’t have to apologize. Like at all. Or pretend to be chill. You literally let me be my craziest about Halloween without complaint,” Eddie had said, insistent and desperate for Steve to understand that had he known, he’d have kept his mouth shut about Christmas entirely.

“Yeah, but I don’t hate Halloween, Eds,” Steve had said with the saddest little smile and Eddie had to stop that immediately.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t have many good memories around Christmas because I grew up poor and most of my extended family hated me, so I just— I never saw the point of it,” Eddie said quickly, grabbing Steve’s hands tightly in his own. “I am more than happy to let you try and change my mind. I want to be part of every single stupid Christmas thing you do if you’ll have me and I’ll even play nice about the dumb stuff, just like you did with me. I promise.”

Steve just smirked at him, an expression Eddie had seen only in the context of either playing one of his sports when he was sure he was going to win and in bed when Eddie challenged him to a seemingly impossible task.

“I look forward to teaching you the magic of Christmas, then,” Steve said simply, and kissed him so sweetly that Eddie’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. Then, when he pulled away, he smirked and pointed upward. “Mistletoe.”

When Steve walked away toward the kitchen and Eddie looked up at the mistletoe hanging above him, he knew he was in trouble if the butterflies in his gut were anything to go by.

The thing was, Eddie loved all the “stupid” Christmas shit Steve dragged him to, and it was a lot less like being “dragged” to them. Sure enough, that Thanksgiving weekend, Steve invited Eddie to go shopping for their tree, and Max had been loud in her demand that he say yes. If he hadn’t already been trying to figure out how to ask to go along, that would have convinced him to give up the Grinch schtick. His heart growing three times its size and that shit. Whatever.

Choosing the tree had taken a whole afternoon at the nursery, Max being exceedingly picky and Eddie just feeding into that to make the whole thing last longer. Eventually Steve reached his limit with the two of them and declared that they had to choose one out of the two contenders they were debating between.

“Eddie should choose!” Max declared, crossing her arms over her chest as she rounded on Eddie. “It’s the rules.”

“What rules, red?” he asked, bewildered and a little touched.

“It’s your first Christmas with us,” she said with a roll of her eyes, like it was the most obvious answer. “New friends choose our tree.”

“Yeah, Max, but that’s only if they’re into Christmas,” Steve said, shooting Eddie an apologetic smile.

“What kind of asshole doesn’t like Christmas?” Max asked and Steve’s mouth dropped open as Eddie winced a bit.

“Maxine!” Steve said sternly, putting his hands on his hips and sending Eddie an almost frantic look.

“Steve, it’s fine. More than fine. I would be honoured to choose your tree,” Eddie said, grinning as he stepped close to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“Our tree,” Max said firmly, and Eddie nodded.

“Of course, I meant ‘your tree’ as in the Harrington tree, not just your dad’s tree, little red,” Eddie had reassured her quickly and she just rolled her eyes.

“No, stupid, I mean our tree. It’s your tree, too,” she explained, frowning when Eddie’s mouth dropped open. Then she huffed and glanced away. “Hurry up and choose. I’m getting cold and Lucas wanted to play some dumb video game today.”

So, Eddie chose the Harrington tree and he even was part of bringing it back to their house, setting it up in the stand and decorating it. They spent hours on the whole affair, and that evening after Max had been in bed for an hour, he found himself laying on the floor of the front room staring up at Steve. He was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, his eyes shining so brightly in the dim room. They had been making out on the floor lazily, their mulled wine cooling in the mugs sitting on a table nearby.

“Thank you for humouring her,” Steve murmured, tucking some of Eddie’s curls behind his ear. “At the nursery. You could’ve said no and I would’ve made her understand.”

“Wasn’t humouring her, Stevie. I mean it,” Eddie insisted, reaching up and cupping Steve’s jaw. “I’m… I’m all in with you, okay? I want to— I helped with the tree because I wanted to, not because she made me.”

Steve’s grin had been blinding and they barely made it to the bedroom before clothes began to be tugged off of each other.

Thus began the trips to winter markets every single weekend, sometimes multiple markets, where Steve and Max would purchase even more kitschy Christmas decor and mulling spice mixes and various fancy pastries and such. It was a lot of Christmas music (which was still disgustingly overplayed) but it was also a lot of seeing Steve and Max smiling so big their faces had to hurt from it.

So, yeah, the sacrifice in this great thing with Steve was that Eddie had to pretend to like Christmas.

The only thing was, he wasn’t pretending, not with Steve. Not with the way Steve and Max did Christmas, the way they involved all of their loved ones and made sure everyone got something out of the holiday from them. It was a shocking revelation when Eddie realized he wanted to spend Christmas with the Harringtons for the rest of his life, that Christmas had the opportunity to usurp Halloween’s place in his heart if Steve kept this up.

When the Hawkins Winter Carnival rolled around, Eddie was ready for the inevitable invite that would come from Steve. It was the thing to do that time of year, and if Eddie was being honest, he had never gone. Well, he went when he was really young, but it didn’t count because he couldn’t remember it.

But the invite just wasn’t coming, and the carnival weekend was quickly approaching. It would be easy enough to secure the day off of work, but it was always better to have as much notice as possible.

“So, were you gonna be going to the Hawkins Winter Carnival?” Eddie asked one day as he sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, and Steve’s ears went dark red.

“Uhm, yes, I was going,” he admitted sheepishly, and when he looked up, he balked at whatever expression was on Eddie’s face. “I’m just— I’ve been saddled with chaperoning all of Max’s friends and I didn’t want you to have an extra miserable time.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, confused at his logic there. “Why would I be miserable spending the day with two of my favourite people in the whole world?” he asked, grinning at the affectionate eyeroll and blush that got out of Steve.

“Okay, but it’s not just going to be the three of us. It would be us plus a whole gaggle of other twelve-year olds and I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy,” Steve replied, stirring the sauce he had simmering on the stove.

“Uh-huh, but that’s still not you asking me what I wanna do,” Eddie pointed out, raising an eyebrow when Steve opened his mouth to argue. When Steve snapped it shut again, Eddie puffed his chest up smugly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Fine. Eddie, would you like to join me and a gaggle of sixth-graders to the carnival?” Steve asked with another roll of his eyes, but he was grinning when he looked up at Eddie through his lashes.

“I would love to!” Eddie replied brightly, already texting his boss at the bar to get the day off.

The day of the carnival was bright and sunny, the snow on the ground blinding. The sun beaming through the windows of Eddie’s apartment was warm, so he just put on his jeans, an insulated pair of boots, and one of his heavier coats. He didn’t want to get too hot walking around, he decided, and the thought of keeping track of gloves and a hat was daunting on its own.

When Steve arrived to pick him up, he only had Max in the back seat, and she was practically vibrating with excitement. Not that she would voice it out loud, of course, but Eddie knew she was happy he was tagging along.

“You look good,” Steve sighed, leaning across the center console to press a soft, chaste kiss to Eddie’s lips, filling his stomach with a swarm of butterflies.

“You, too,” Eddie replied, chasing Steve’s lips for another quick kiss before sitting properly and buckling up. They could usually get away with two chaste smooches before Max started gagging noisily in the back seat.

“So, where are the gaggle of children I was warned about?” Eddie asked after Steve started driving, turning in his seat so he could see Max, too.

“We’re meeting them there,” Max replied, staring out her window.

“So their parents can get them all there, but can’t stick around?” Eddie asked and Steve laughed.

“Yep,” he said, and Max huffed.

“You offer to take us every single year, Dad,” she said flatly, for which Steve apparently had no argument.

Once they arrived at the carnival, it only took a few minutes before an entire gaggle of tweens surrounded them, all of them speaking at volumes that had to be against some kind of international law or convention or something. Eddie just stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets as he watched Steve take charge (kind of) and coral the little demons.

“Who’re you?”

Eddie jumped, startled by a voice right in front of him. Looking down, he realized that all of the kids were now staring at him, and he had no idea which one just spoke.

“Uh… Hi, I’m Eddie,” he replied, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave at the kids with just his fingers. Immediately, he put his hand back into his pocket as he realized the air was a bit colder than he had been prepared for.

“You’re Steve’s boyfriend?” the tallest kid asked with complete and utter disbelief in his voice.

“Gee, Wheeler, thanks?” Steve snorted, rolling his eyes skyward.

“He just seems way out of your league—” Mike started to reply before he was cut-off by a sharp elbow to the sternum from Max. “Hey!”

“Alright, children, let’s keep it civil please. We’ve got three hours to kill here, we don’t need to start it off with a fight,” Steve interjected, bodily stepping between Mike and Max. “Where do we want to head first?”

It was at that point that all the kids started talking at once, stumbling over each other. From what Eddie could gather, the kids wanted to split from the adults and do their own thing. There was a lot of back-and-forth, but eventually, they reached an agreement with Steve.

Firstly, they were to stay within the grounds of the carnival. Secondly, he would be calling one of their cell phones every thirty minutes to check on them and if they didn’t answer they immediately lost their adult-free privileges. Thirdly, they were expected to meet Steve and Eddie at the gates of the carnival at five without Steve having to round them up himself.

“You don’t want a chaperon, you have to act like you don’t need one,” Steve had said when they protested.

And that was how Eddie ended up walking around the winter carnival with Steve, just the two of them.

The carnival was a decent size, with several booths of local artisans and artists selling their holiday themed wares, a midway with food trucks galore, a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round, and carnival games. There was plenty to keep them busy for three hours.

However, Eddie quickly discovered that just because the sun felt warm through the window at home, that did not mean it was going to keep him from getting cold after more than thirty minutes outside. Within an hour and a bit, Eddie’s nose, ears, and fingers were chilly, even with his hair down and his hands kept deep in his coat pockets.

But in the end, Eddie found it easy to ignore his discomfort because Steve was smiling so huge and so bright. Eddie would suffer literally anything, even torture, just to see Steve’s grin, whether it was directed at him or not.

Somehow, though, that happy expression was for Eddie, so he would be brave and not complain about the chill. They only had a little more than an hour to go, and at some point, Eddie could buy a hot drink to wrap his cold fingers around. He was fine, perfect even.

As it came up on four, and Eddie was clutching the biggest polar bear stuffie he’d ever seen (Steve won it for him at the game with the basketball hoops), Steve sighed and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. Cuddling into Steve’s warmth, Eddie tilted his head onto Steve’s shoulder as they walked.

“How about we grab some mulled wine?” Steve suggested, turning his head to kiss the top of Eddie’s head and filling his tummy with a furious swarm of butterflies.

“Sounds perfect, big boy,” he replied with a grin, letting Steve lead him to the truck serving the mulled wine. There was a bit of a line, so Steve nodded toward one of the nearby fire pits.

“Grab us a seat?” Steve suggested, and Eddie nodded quickly, more than happy to sit in front of a fire after freezing his dick off for the better part of two hours. When Eddie went to pull away, Steve stopped him. “Goodbye kiss?”

“You’re a sap,” Eddie teased, even as he leaned in and kissed Steve’s smiling lips chastely. “I’m just going, like, ten feet away.”

“You love it,” Steve said as Eddie pulled away, and he was correct. “Your nose is cold,” he added with a grin, and Eddie laughed.

“Yours isn’t much better,” he teased before pulling away and hurrying over to the fire pit, immediately laying his polar bear across the bench to save their seats and holding his hands in the warmth of the fire. It almost hurt, but it also felt really good.

It was only a few minutes before Steve stepped up beside Eddie, leaning close as he offered him one of the little disposable cups. Without hesitation, Eddie stooped to kiss his boyfriend sweetly, grinning when Steve sighed.

“Missed you,” Steve said as he pulled away and beamed at Eddie.

“You were just over there for, like, fifteen minutes,” Eddie replied, his cheeks hot with his blush as butterflies swarmed inside his stomach.

Steve just gave Eddie his most handsome and crooked little grin. “Tell me about it,” he hummed, leaning back in for a quick smooch before holding up Eddie’s mulled wine. “Here’s yours.”

When Eddie finally went to take his cup, their fingers brushed briefly and Eddie made a soft noise at how hot Steve’s fingers felt against his. The other man must have taken his own gloves off while purchasing their drinks.

“What the hell?” Steve asked as his hand flinched away, his expression a bit horrified when his gaze met Eddie’s. “Eds, why are your fingers so cold? How long have they been like this?”

Eddie could feel his cheeks heat with the intensity of his blush, and he shrugged. “Kinda… since we got here?” he said a bit sheepishly and Steve made a small sound of disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been giving yourself frostbite and not—I’m rounding up the kids, we’re leaving—” Steve started, and Eddie quickly shook his head.

“No! Don’t! I don’t wanna ruin their fun,” Eddie insisted, and Steve scoffed.

“And you losing your fingers isn’t going to do that?” he asked bitchily, putting a hand on his waist and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not cold enough for that and you know it,” Eddie replied flatly. “Seriously, Steve, I’m going to be fine. I have a hot drink, a hot fire, and a hot boyfriend. I’ll warm up real quick right here.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he considered Eddie’s words and when he opened his mouth to speak, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Max,” he said, frowning a bit as he answered. “Hey! What’s— why’s everyone yelling…? So, no one’s hurt but…? Okay, let me get this straight,” Steve started, smirking a little bit and rolling his eyes at Eddie. “You and Jane are done hanging out with ‘smelly, stupid boys’ but you want me to call in five minutes and end everything early…? What’s in it for me, huh?”

Eddie snorts and sips at his mulled wine, shuffling backward to the bench and scooping his polar bear up into his lap while Steve hummed noncommittally as Max spoke.

“Hmm, I’ll consider your offer closely. Eddie’s been giving himself frostbite this whole time anyway, so I was about to call it anyway,” Steve finally said, ignoring Eddie’s indignant squawk. “Yeah, the butthead didn’t wear any gloves. Do I still have to wait five minutes…? Perfect, we’re at the fire pit near the mulled wine stand… Yeah, the one close to the gates. See you soon.”

Eddie pouted at Steve as he hung-up and sat down next to him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled, relaxing as Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer.

“Hey, Max wanted to be rescued from the boys anyway. If anything, I’m doing her more of a favour than you,” he said flippantly, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Sure, whatever,” Eddie said, and within seconds they could hear the noisy approach of the gaggle of preteens.

The ride back to Steve’s was a whirlwind, with Steve insisting on dropping Mike, Lucas, and Dustin off at their homes first, even though they had to circle back on their route to drop Max off at Jane and Will’s house. The moment they dropped Dustin off and it was just the three kids in the back, Eddie immediately understood the inefficient route. Near-silence immediately fell in the car, the only disturbance being the Christmas music quietly playing on the radio as they drove.

“Holy shit, I think my ears are actually ringing,” Eddie commented, and Steve snorted.

“You get used to the shrill din of Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson arguing at the top of their lungs,” he replied, and Max scoffed at that.

“No one gets used to that, Dad,” she argued, and Eddie could see her smirk when Jane and Will giggled at that.

Finally, once they were child-free and back at Steve’s house, Eddie felt ready to crash on the couch and maybe pass out for a little nap. But of course, Steve had other ideas.

“Nuh-uh, you froze at the festival I dragged you to, so I’m gonna make sure you get all warmed up,” Steve insisted, dragging Eddie into a kiss that he refused to let Eddie deepen.

Despite Eddie’s best efforts, Steve was apparently on a mission to actually warm him up. It wasn’t just a euphemism for getting Eddie upstairs to his bed or anything like that.

Instead, Steve drew Eddie a bath in the huge soaker tub in the master bathroom, complete with a fancy bath bomb and even fucking candles. To drive home that this wasn’t about sex, Steve kissed him sweetly, chastely and said, “Enjoy your bath. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he was in the tub, luxuriating in the warm, lavender-scented water, before Steve poked his head inside to let him know that dinner was served. But the bath did the trick, warming him to his core and leaving him feeling loose and relaxed. Sleepy almost, but not completely exhausted like he had felt when they got home after the festival.

‘Wait, not home. To Steve’s house,’ Eddie corrected himself internally, getting out of the tub and slipping on the fluffy bathrobe Steve had said he could use while he was over a couple weeks ago. There was also a pair of slippers that Eddie had left by accident when he spent the night months ago that Steve had placed with the robe.

Downstairs, there was a fire going in the fireplace and Steve was setting out two plates of the meal he prepared on the coffee table. Steve had also gotten changed into his own bathrobe at some point, and that had Eddie struggling with the urge to confess his love right then and there.

“What?” Steve asked and Eddie blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized he was staring, or standing there for so long.

“Nothing, just admiring my amazing boyfriend, that’s all,” Eddie replied with a giant grin, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders to pull him into a kiss. Once again, all of his attempts to deepen the kiss were thwarted until Steve pulled away.

“Eddie,” he warned, his tone light but the scold in it was obvious to Eddie’s ears. “Dinner first.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying, though?” Eddie challenged lightly, grinning against Steve’s lips as he placed another kiss on them. “Life’s short, so eat dessert first?”

“What did I say, Eds?” Steve asked instead, his tone full of that firmness that Eddie found himself craving more and more often.

With a sigh, Eddie replied, “Dinner first.”

“That’s right,” Steve said with a pleased hum as he stepped out of Eddie’s embrace and motioned for him to sit on the couch.

They ate their food in comfortable quiet, nothing but logs crackling in the fireplace breaking the silence of Steve’s living room. Usually, such quiet would be excruciating for Eddie, but with Steve it felt natural, perfect even. Like it was safe. Quiet moments with Steve never made Eddie feel like he had to fill them with chatter or noise like he would with most other people.

By the time they were done eating, Eddie felt so relaxed he was close to dozing off right there on the couch with his plate in his lap.

“Let’s get you upstairs and tucked into bed,” Steve hummed, standing up and holding his hands out to help Eddie to his feet.

“The dishes…” Eddie pointed out, but Steve just kept tugging him along behind him.

“They can stay right there for one night, Eds,” he replied as they climbed the stairs.

It wasn’t long before they were cuddled up under the covers on Steve’s bed, robes and slippers discarded on the floor next to the bed, and holding each other as they kissed softly, sweetly.

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked quietly without pulling away. “Warmed up?”

“Definitely,” Eddie replied, eyes fluttering as his body lit up under Steve. “Feeling so warm.”

“Mm, I bet,” Steve chuckled, finally deepening their kiss as one of his hands wandered over Eddie’s chest, down his abdomen, and toward his hip. Before Eddie could dream of whining about being teased, Steve shifted his weight and his thigh pressed between Eddie’s legs. At Eddie’s choked off moan, Steve sighed and said, “Yeah, definitely feeling warm now.”

“Stevie, please,” Eddie whispered against Steve’s mouth as he fought the urge to rut against his thigh.

“You’re not too tired, sweetheart?” Steve asked, and Eddie could hear the genuine concern in his voice.

“Never too tired for you, babe,” he replied easily, and he absolutely meant it. Then he sheepishly added, “it might have to be just this, though, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, that’s okay, Eds,” Steve replied, pulling back to meet Eddie’s eyes as he shifted until he was settled between his legs. “So perfect when you tell me your limits, baby.”

The praise hit Eddie hard in the gut, heat pooling south so quickly he felt dizzy with it. Spreading his legs wider to wrap around Steve’s waist, Eddie moaned when they slotted against each other like matching puzzle pieces.

They rocked together like that, lazy and relaxed, making out softly until Eddie was squirming underneath Steve.

“What do you need, baby?” Steve asked in a whisper, rolling his hips a bit more determinedly, dragging a flurry of whimpers out of Eddie’s throat.

“Need t’come,” he gasped, arching against Steve and whining when Steve worked a hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around both of them. “Please, Stevie, m’so close.”

“Me too, Eds,” Steve groaned before capturing Eddie’s lips again in a sloppy, hungry kiss. Just when the coil in Eddie’s gut pulled so tight it was almost painful, Steve whispered a gentle, “come for me, sweetheart.”

Just like that, Eddie spilled between them, making a mess of both of their stomachs and Steve’s hand. When Steve didn’t stop his rocking and stroking, Eddie whimpered almost pitifully, begging Steve to come so the exquisite, perfect torture of overstimulation would end. After only a few more strokes, Steve came with a cry so sweet, Eddie felt tears spring to his eyes as he threw his arms around his boyfriend, refusing to let him go.

They held each other, panting and kissing each other sloppily for a long time, just long enough for the mess between them to become tacky and unpleasant.

“I’ll go grab a cloth, okay?” Steve said with a laugh, carefully getting off the bed to avoid smearing anything on the linens or comforters.

Eddie watched his beautiful boyfriend disappear into the ensuite, feeling warm and floaty, taken care of, and treasured. When Steve returned, Eddie knew he was looking up at the man with the sappiest, lovesick gaze if the way Steve’s cheeks turned pink was anything to go by.

“What?” he asked with a little smirk as he carefully wiped the warm cloth over Eddie’s lower abdomen and softened cock.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie replied, “I love you.”

Steve froze and his eyes met Eddie’s with a fierce intensity that would’ve terrified Eddie if a grin didn’t split Steve’s face a second later. It was huge, bright, and absolutely goofy with the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was Eddie’s favourite Steve smile.

“Even though I prefer Christmas over Halloween?” Steve asked in a voice that was so happy that Eddie couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of his own chest.

“Hey, you might’ve made a convert out of me,” he confessed, winking at Steve’s shocked gasp.

“Are you serious? I made you a Christmas lover, too?” Steve pressed, tossing the cloth in the general direction of the ensuite so he could lay on top of Eddie.

“Yeah, just as long as I get to spend it with you and Max,” Eddie replied, reaching up to tuck some of Steve’s hair behind his ears. “As long as you and Max still want me around.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Eds, because I intend to keep you as long as you’ll let me,” Steve hummed, dipping his chin to capture Eddie’s lips in a slow, searching kiss before whispering against his lips, “I love you, too.”

And, yeah, Eddie was pretty sure Christmas was going to become his favourite holiday and stay that way for a long time. Maybe even forever if his luck kept up.

[m4g3114n1c]

Make it worth my time.

Midas x Fem!Reader

tags: Consensual Sex, Missionary, Porn With Plot, Gun Kink, poc friendly, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Degradation kink, Verbal Humiliation, BDSM, not so sane but consensual sex!, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Face-Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Older Man/Younger Woman, Workplace Sex, Power Imbalance, Desk Sex, Sir is used a lot (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃Midas is SadisticChoking

summary: ur insufferable boss calls u down bc

Intern Reader x CEO Midas

Midas was an asshole. You said it, yet in the back of your mind you still felt guilt spreading through your veins, infecting your Midas-hating self. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. You shouldn’t feel for him at all.

A stern, strict, relentless man that overworked everybody to the point of exhaustion was somebody you should never feel bad for.

When you had been recruited to do the internship, it seemed fun, entertaining enough. A program for spies—man, you should’ve known how sketchy that sounded.

You were grown, you should know what a scam of a program it was. You had to work for minimum wage due to the fact there was a ton of people working at one place; the pay check had to be broken up in between all of you.

The thing was, Midas was rich enough to pay you all, especially you, since you were more focused in being his assistant. He set that goal for you the first time you arrived.

The touch of gold at his fingertips and yet he couldn’t offer one molecule of a golden nugget to his workers.

Cheap motherfucker.

How was that even possible? The ability of the golden touch and he was still so cheap. It frustrated you more than it should.

You felt like a moron at how much you thought this would be a fun job. His close friends seem to get better treatment at least, and go on useful missions that make an impact.

All what you had to do was organize, organize, and organize files.

If you wanted to sign up for a damn cubicle job, you would’ve done so, because this was insanely far from what you imagined the program was.

So, here you were now, almost eight hours straight of non-stop work. Once the clock hit three, you celebrated in your head; the champagnes popping and all.

It was finally time for you to go, time for you to relax. You had to clear your mind in your apartment.

You shut off your computer, grabbing your jacket, your bag, plus—things you still needed to work at even at home.

That’s how much he made you work. As annoying as he was, he seemed to really want specifically you to be his assistant. Odd enough.

The boring, crisp air of the fancy building and the repetitive click-and-clacking of the keyboards were making you crazy. It was so quiet, nobody spoke, and only worked. It made you wonder that possibly it was about Midas.

It was definitely about him and his rules. When you got here, the rules he set were ridiculous.

Why did he think, “No talking.” was such an amazing, life changing and jaw-dropping rule?

The rule was plastered everywhere, in posters and stickers. It seemed so simple, yet so restricting on you and everybody else who worked under him.

You couldn’t really dwell on the topic too much because you were under his agency, that you applied to.

“Hi,” A high pitched voice made your head sharply turn. Your eyes widened with bewilderment at how she spoke with such a full voice. It was Skye?.. You didn’t remember but you knew she was one of Midas’ friends.

Ah. So that’s why she was speaking in a full voice. You forgot his friends could only speak fully in an environment like this. Everybody usually heard them bantering in the meeting room.

“Boss wants you in there.” She whistled in a way of saying you fucked up on something. She felt regret because you seemed like you were going to shit yourself.

“No clue what it was about,” She shrugged, patting you on the shoulder as she parted ways with you. The way she reassured you by giving you a small and muttered, “good luck,” made you extremely nervous.

Now you were left standing with your bag, knowing you had to go in there. You sighed, returning your things on the desk.

Well. You had to suck up now. Suck up to your shitty boss. Hooray!

Midas got around your nerves sometimes, and it had made you slip up once or twice. One time, he told you he was going to shorten the deadline on something while you weren’t even halfway through it.

“That’s great,” You mumbled under your breath, sarcasm seeping through your voice, collecting the files on the desk he had properly reviewed already.

“Excuse me?” He snapped. Shit.

“Nothing, sir.”

He turned around like nothing happened, dismissing you with a short wave of his hand.

You’re pretty sure he knew that you were not fond of him, and don’t see him as a friend.

You dragged yourself mentally, yet kept your head up, straight posture and your heels clacking against the dark definitely expensive floors. Good impressions to not get fired.

You sighed once more, finding yourself at the front of his door. For the last time, you made sure to look presentable before knocking. This was a rare occurrence. He never called anybody down.

You brought your hand up to his door, wrist working itself to knock hard enough on the dark wood.

Even through his walls were thick, including his door, you swore you could hear his heavy and weary sigh from a mile away. There was a short shuffle of his feet.

“Come in,” He said loud enough for you to grasp the handle of the door and pull. You know his patience ran thin quickly.

The sweet scent of his office billowed into your face; it smelt of an expensive cologne, possibly sandalwood. It smelt pleasant though, like a warm cabin. The mellow smell lingered in the thick tension in the air. It suddenly felt warm in the room.

Midas stood at the front of the thick glass separating him and the device. His eyes stayed glued on his creation. A cold light shone against its smooth surface.

It made you laugh whenever you saw it in all its glory because of how it was just in his office. The large device felt so out of place, but also felt the opposite because of his huge ego.

He just seemed the type of person to showcase his greatest passions.

Your eyes danced over to everything in his room, to his framed photos of his friends, his golden arsenal but especially his victims. People he’s killed with the golden touch.

A shiver ran up your spine but you kept your head clear.

You couldn’t see much but he seemed disinterested, even though he called you down there in the first place. His arms were behind his back, facing you. It felt like you were walking on eggshells, shifting a step, but before you could even walk even closer—

“Lock the door,” He followed by briefly stating your name.

Your heart dropped, feeling the anxiety peering in slowly.

Was he going to kill you? He definitely was.

It was difficult to distinguish his emotion since he didn’t exactly display it for you to see. His tone was monotone and his face was the same as it usually was, adorned with a scorn.

You kept yourself composed, turning around to turn the lock of the door. You stood by the door, and Midas turned his head obscurely, the warm light caught his amber eye. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Come here.” He turned himself around fully.

Standing straight at about 6 feet and an inch, you did not want to mess with your boss.

You obliged, approaching his desk so you were right in front of it, and him.

You absentmindedly lined the tip of your pointed heels to be right on the edge of the rug. It was like an imaginary boundary.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” He suddenly questioned and you felt yourself shift into that interviewee mindset.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, trying to form a sort of sardonic smile. It was like his eyes were taking you apart, picking each piece of your nervous movement to analyze and trying to figure out how you felt.

He pulled his obnoxious leather and gold-lined chair out, settling on the chair before pushing himself closer to be tucked at the desk.

He gestured to one of the chairs.

“Take a seat,”

A part of you wanted to defy his order to piss him off and sit in the other.

You didn’t, and sat in the one he gestured to, which was closer to his desk.

He stared at you with a straight face. He was so intense.

“Be honest, will you?” He shrugged, trying to seem indifferent about the topic. He was trying to pry how you truly felt about him out of you, because he knew it was buried deep.

“If you’re going to be my assistant, you need to know what’s best for this agency,”

You wanted to say how stupid his system was, how cheap he was despite having the golden touch, and how he was an asshole. The thing is, you didn’t have it enough in you to say so.

“I’m—“ You began but felt that you were a tad bit too passionate about the topic. You started once again, tone professional.

“Sir, the way you run things..”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow, already feeling skeptical about letting you speak about this.

He absolutely fucking hated it when people dragged him for how he ran his own agency. Yes, he asked for criticism but it wasn’t to actually change anything.

Why would he?

It was working like a well oiled machine anyway, so what was your issue?

“It’s awkward, doesn’t feel like anything’s getting done when nobody talks to eachother.”

Midas shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Here he went. His body language just screamed an arrogant, rich and conceited man.

“Well, it’s not a preschool, is it?”

That caught you so off guard you had the temptation to laugh at his remark. He was right, it didn’t have to be a jolly, holding hands, and my little pony type friendship sort of thing, but it was still important to create a comfortable work environment.

“No, sir, but I conducted a survey which revealed that 87% of your workers—“

“You broke my rules?”

You stopped yourself, and sighed.

You didn’t mean to slip up like that.

Well, you couldn’t take it back anymore. Hopefully, he liked you a lot and wouldn’t fire you for that.

“That’s not the point.” You felt like you were trying so hard to convince him that what he was doing was shitty. It was as if you were talking to a brick wall.

“Yes, it is. You know how crucial it for their work to go uninterrupted, by doing that, you’ve partially slowed some of their progress.”

There it is. He had overworked everybody just for him to sit in his comfortable office, staring at his big ball of creation.

“See, that’s the issue. That’s your issue. You don’t care.”

“Am I supposed to? Business is business. You’re not here to make friends. Fall in love. Hold hands.”

He rolled his eyes, finding your idea completely wrong.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Oh wow.

He’s never seen you this assertive before towards him. He saw potential.

“Alright,” He said, somewhat defeated with your short-lived argument, beckoned you over with his finger.

Although you were still pissed at him, it felt like your body was owned by him.

Woah. Not owned.

It felt like your body just couldn’t stop following his every single order. The thought of you wanting to appease him in every way possible had you embarrassed. You hated him, but still wanted to impress him.

The sound of a drawer rolling caught your attention when you maneuvered yourself around the desk to stand beside his chair.

He pulled out a thick stack of cash from the drawer like it was nothing. The drawer was filled with wads of hundred dollar bills. He turned, still in his chair, humming as he didn’t even count it, and offered it to you.

You were unimpressed at this and he was stunned.

Were you asking for more money?

He didn’t care if you took all of his money because of how truly wealthy he was. When you didn’t take it from his hands, he took more from his stash, stacking it on and lying them on your hand.

The stack eventually weighed heavy on your palm. It was so heavy, you had to support it with both hands to refrain it from toppling over.

“No, this wasn’t what I asked for nor what I wanted. You can’t bribe me.” You looked at him, offended that he would think of something as stupid as this; bribery would never work on you.

It was nice seeing and smelling the fresh bills but you placed them on his desk with a smack.

His neutral expression shifted into something darker, something more formidable than usual. Midas frowned, bothered by your ungrateful attitude. At this angle, you were taller since he was sat down.

That didn’t last for long, as Midas stood up so quickly, the force of his movement sent his chair behind him strolling to hit something with a soft thud.

He towered over you, eyes glowering. He was only about an inch away from you. The propinquity of him worked; it was an intimidating tactic and it fucking worked on you.

“Sir,” You shakily said, feeling yourself in a daze. A sense of vertigo clouded your mind, blocking out any oncoming thoughts.

A blanket of blood flooded your cheeks, painting them crimson at the intimate proximity. In such a tone that sounded apologetic, it was ludicrous thinking about how you had been arguing with him.

At the sight of this, the dim lighting casted an attractive shadow against his angular face. You hated to admit it, but Midas was hot. You always felt in denial thinking about it, now here you were, lips inches away from his.

You knew you were only in denial due to the fact he was the boss and you were the intern.

“What do you want, then?” He said with a soft scoff, knowing he could fulfill your wishes so easily.

He found your fierce ambitions and your overall attitude amazing qualities. He also found you to be extremely attractive. That was a quality that always made him feel differently.

Your eyes darted away from his. This was a weird situation to be stuck in. Your boss and you, locked in his office and an inch away.

He noticed you weren’t pulling away.

“Just,” You hesitated but continued. “give me the money, please.” The state of affairs had you spouting shit you would never say in a million years. You begging for money was something you blurted out because of your panicked state.

Something about this whole thing made you want to scamper away.

Another part of you was leaning into it, wanting to know how his hands would feel against your bare skin, his lips on yours; would he fuck you rough, or would he fuck you agonizingly slow?

Would he praise you or would he condemn you to being useless?

You had to know.

You needed to know.

It was killing you, the part of not knowing was tearing you to shreds, eating you on the inside out.

“Please, what?”

He was feeding into your delusion—

“Please, sir.”

but you just couldn’t help yourself sometimes.

The way you sounded, you uttering that in a voice that sounded so heavenly, it took every inch of him to grab you. His gaze wandered to your soft lips, stained with lipstick, he found even more tempting to smear off.

“Do you really want the money?” Midas wasn’t blind, he had seen your nervous and your complexion flushed. Your short breaths, trying to inhale all of his air. No mistake, you were aroused. Turned on to the max.

“No.”

“Good.” His tone lowered to one that was filled with satisfaction and relief at your answer.

The function of your breathing had stopped. You couldn’t even comprehend Midas’ slow, yet calculated approach to stoop down and capture your lips in a tantalizing, short kiss.

His lips whilst pressed against yours felt surprisingly soft. Your eyes closed quite late, but felt prone to more.

A warm feeling erupted within your chest, spreading across your body at the first contact of his lips. It felt like a pit of fire inside you was slowly being fed by the smallest of his ministrations.

Midas leaned forward once more, allowing you to relax as he had to slightly accommodate to your height to kiss you. His larger hand came down to tilt your head to an angle he wanted.

You felt him grab your hip to keep you still, and the firm hold he had on you had been the last thing you needed to give in.

His stern hold indicated the longing of you, the longing for anybody, actually. Since he and his wife got divorced due to issues, he’d been desperate, not begging but he was.

He hated how you made him feel whenever you were around.

Every time you walked into his office, he tried his best to stay professional.

He didn’t even know you, apart from your résumé; you didn’t know him personally either.

He pulled you in, feeling his exhales from his nose as he tried to keep a steady breath. “Midas, sir,” You muttered in between kisses, pausing him by giving him a firm push of your palm.

He responded by grasping your wrist, almost in a way that told you he didn’t like getting touched without permission. You leaned back, but you couldn’t move much.

“Are we allowed to do this?” You asked, slightly hesitant to even ask.

“I make the rules, what do you think?” He sarcastically replied with a small tilt of his head.

Your silence and actions spoke louder than words when you pressed yourself closer to him. He noticed, pressing his silken lips against yours once more, reigniting his inner desires in him he’d long forgotten about.

Your hand reached down to his crotch, thinking you were doing him a favour. Midas’ fifth sense was quickly set off, not being able to see but sense your hand hovering just right above.

His hand once again, grabbed your wrist once more and this time pushed away.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asked, slightly breathless at your attempt. He sounded so pissed.

You might’ve misread the situation, maybe he didn’t want sex right now. You were in the wrong for trying to assume.

“I’m so sorry, I thought—“ You said so quickly it sounded jumbled together before being interrupted by Midas.

“Thought what? Do you think I like you ?” He emphasized the words and they hit you harder than you thought.

“Get on your knees.” He sneered, almost in a way that felt like he was humiliating you.

God, in such a sick way, you loved it.

Without hesitation, you slowly sunk down, feeling the rough material of the rug harshly against your knees.

This view of Midas felt more domineering, his eyes scanned your face. His face was riddled with contempt. Silence filled the air again, making him even more irritated.

“Are you just going to sit there and be useless all day?”

Your eyes wandered down to the visible tent in his pants, wanting to feel how hard he felt against yourself if you were ever to grind against him.

The thought made you squeeze your thighs, rubbing them against one another to soothe the growing desperation within your cunt.

“Please, let me.”

He nodded, watching with an amused expression as your hands fumbled with his metal belt.

The sharp clinking of his belt made his slacks feel a lot tighter. You then unzipped them, unbuttoned them and caught a glimpse of what you were dealing with.

His boxers were a plain black, and if you couldn’t see well, you wouldn’t have noticed the wet spot where his tip laid against. The outline of his was huge.

To not make him any more impatient, you tugged his boxers down enough. His cock was close enough to your face that could see the pre-cum beading out of the flushed tip.

He was more longer than he was in width, but other than that, you just wanted to take him all in your mouth. You hoped you could.

Midas pushed himself closer, letting the warm tip of his cock brush just against the corner of your mouth. You looked up at him, letting your tongue peek out to lick the corner of your mouth clean of the cum he smeared.

“Open.”

Your tongue dragged alongside a vein in his shaft before taking him into your mouth. The taste of his cum, you relished in. He cursed under his breath at the warm and wet feeling of your mouth.

Every one of your mouths movements had earned a grunt from him or two. They were small but it told you he was enjoying himself. You didn’t take him all the way, afraid to trigger your own gag-reflex.

Your hand accommodated to the leftover of his cock that was getting no attention, wrapping around and shifting the same time your mouth moved.

Your tongue swirled around his tip, earning a breathy moan from him. His hand made its way into your hair, pulling hard enough for yourself to moan around him.

The vibrations of your sound had him resisting so hard not to push your head down.

“Just like that, fuck.” He groaned under his breath and hearing it shot down pure arousal to your already soaked panties.

You set a steady motion of trying to take more of him into your mouth. Midas quickly lost himself to the feeling, finding the obscene, sloppy sucking noises you made so appealing.

You looked up as you continued, his hips pushing in, forcing yourself to take more than you could take. You resisted the urge to gag as he touched your uvula, eyes brimming with tears.

Your eyelashes were dampening, the expression on your face made him feel fucking sick, because he found your crying hot.

You breathed in through your nose, concentrating on keeping the pace consistent. Midas didn’t care much about your pace, pretty much fucking your face now.

You looked at him, the thrusting of his hips into your mouth had your own saliva dripping down your chin.

“You’re taking it so fucking good, yeah—I knew your mouth could be useful,” He panted.

You let out a muffled moan while he continued. Rare groans escaped his mouth and he was enjoying himself.

Then you pulled off his cock.

He didn’t like that.

Midas dragged you up off the floor with an easy tug of your hair. You looked like a mess, just the way he wanted. Your usual brazen self was now replaced a husk of your old self, desperate for attention from him.

He leaned in close, not waiting to rip off your pantyhose, along with pulling off your panties.

“Maybe this will make you learn your fucking lesson,” He spat out, smashing his lips against yours in a way that you didn’t even know what had happened.

You didn’t care, not ashamed that all you wanted from him was to fuck you. He lead you to his desk, your hip hitting the desk.

Since he hated you, you thought he might’ve preferred not seeing your face, so you bent over the desk. He was tempted but flipped you around.

With a gasp leaving your mouth, your weight felt like nothing as Midas picked you up and placed on top of his desk.

He unzipped your skirt to make it easier, also slipping it off.

“I want to see that it’s you.” He whispered, in contrast to his attitude earlier when he fucked your mouth. Usually hate sex was with the other person facing away. But the person who hated you the most wanted to see?

“You want me to fuck you?” Finally, he pressed his tip against the opening of your tight cunt.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re nothing to me, you do know that, right?”

“I’d never be with somebody as easy as you are.”

—-

word count got to me pt2

[taking-thyme]

My experiences with my Deities so far

Apollo: I’ve found that Apollo just likes to show up and sit with you places. It’s his way of checking in on you. One of my friends actually did a tarot and pendulum reading for me and Apollo apparently recognized me as one of his children which, like, holy shit dude. But seriously, Apollo is super loving. He’s always just kind of around, either because you feel his energy or you see crows and ravens basically everywhere. He also has a very protective energy, I feel like he would get super mad if any of his devotees are mistreated, which definitely fits with his myths. It’s super cliché but the only way to describe how you feel with connecting with him is sunny. My body feels a lot lighter and almost like it’s glowing, and I feel more at peace. This applies to most deities, but you really get the sense with Apollo that he wants you to feel good and he’ll do whatever he can to make that happen. Also he’s fuckin gorgeous. And he really likes apples for offerings, he always asks for them. 

Artemis: Artemis has such a cool energy. I feel like she’s that badass older sister that leans against walls and gives really damn good advice. When I connect with Artemis I just feel way cooler than before, like I can take on anything. Like I could fight any man and win. But don’t get me wrong, she definitely has a softer side. She’s adamant about me taking care of myself and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. I deal with a lot of terrible anxiety, and she’s always super reassuring that nothing will happen to me and if it does, she will smite something. Artemis gives me confidence. I also feel really called to help wildlife when I connect with her, which is fitting of course. She has some of the most protective energy out of all my deities - they all love and protect me of course, but Artemis is the most adamant about it. Probably because she knows that helps with my anxiety. I don’t know man, she’s just so badass and supportive and reassuring. She also likes apples. I also get the vibes that the Greek Gods can be a little more vague with their answers than the Norse or Celtic pantheons, but not in a bad way, just in a “you need to figure this out yourself” way, which I can respect and appreciate. 

Cernunnos: Has an incredibly wise and ancient energy. I've found he's very clear with what he wants during tarot readings, he will tell you exactly what you need to work on and do. Cernunnos is also very adamant about self care, probably because I don't do it enough, oops. He has this rule where, if you take something from the earth, you must give something back. Like when you pluck a flower, say thank you or water the ground where it stood. It takes a bit to get into the swing of doing that but you'll have such a better relationship with the land once you do. Whenever I connect with him I feel so much calmer and level-headed than usual. He's also very insistent that I meditate more often. 

(He wanted me to use this picture lmao I love him)

Thor: 100% the deity I feel most casual with. Every time I make an offering or connect with him, I immediately feel so much more chill and laid back. We make jokes with each other a lot. Also he's the biggest hype man of my entire life. If there's a major life event going on, he will send a storm or some thunder to let you know he's with you. At my High School graduation there was a lightning storm in the distance and on my last day of school he sent me a truly apocalyptic looking storm to show his support. Also, and I don’t know if this is just me, but Thor is also a massive flirt. He will compliment you and likes to be flattered right back. That seems to be a running trend with the Norse gods, they like being flattered. But they, and especially Thor, absolutely return the favor.

[dearinglovebot]

maisie is sooo baby butch. I look at her and I see someone who is about to fall in love with her girl best friend and have the worst sexuality crisis. in two years she’s going to cut all her hair off and invest in a baggy pants + work boots combo look.

claire will know before she can even consider it (bisexual feminist gaydar) and owen will not realize until maisie tells them outright (straight man gaydar). claire will tell him of her suspicions and he’ll be like “idk her style isn’t that different than zia or kayla’s. it’s in fashion these days” in complete earnest forcing her to give him A Look. he also suggested getting franklin a girlfriend once so claire was really just setting herself up.

maisie’ll be like “okay guys don’t make a big deal about this but I’m actually only into girls” and claire will be like I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT love you honey I KNEW IT and owen will be like door-stays-open rule applies to all genders.

she will be showered in absolutely egregious rainbow items and owen will buy an I LOVE MY GAY DAUGHTER shirt that maisie refuses to let him wear in public. he is going to anyways because he does love his gay daughter. just like the I LOVE MY BISEXUAL WIFE mug gets mileage. maisie hits her limit when he starts watching ellen to “learn more about gay culture”.

with claire nothing really changes because again she’s been eagerly anticipating this. maisie realizes belatedly this is why claire was always playing shit like xena warrior princess and buffy the vampire slayer on weekends.

maisie will ask him how to get a girl to notice her and he’ll have to be like “just because I landed your mom does NOT mean I know HOW I did it”. because in his mind he kind of just bothered her until she gave him the time of day and he cannot ethically encourage that. claire will be equally unhelpful with “be yourself” lines. maisie is doomed. luckily for maisie, her mother has a medical condition where she can only befriend homosexuals (zia, franklin, kayla). they give her also terrible but more useful advice like shave half your head and invest in leather jackets.

maisie’s first pride is deeply traumatizing. twinks keep assuming her father is a bear and hitting on him while telling claire she’s “serving major cunt” and just seeing her is a “try not to say MOTHER challenge”. to make things worse, claire’s natural canonical butch-stud magnetism is working over time. owen is fighting for his life while a sea of beautiful masculine women toss his wife around like she’s a basketball. she scores both zia and kayla dates that night. all in all a very lovely day that they end with a drag show dinner performance.

eventually maisie will find a beautiful girlfriend and she’ll be terrorized in a similar way with owen’s new “my daughter’s not gay but her girlfriend is” hat. the more they complain the funnier he thinks it is. claire chides him but she secretly thinks it’s a funny bit.

[frogandbird]

turbol writing prompties???

-fears 😟😖😣 -turrl tots 🐢🐢🐢🐢 -birthdayys!!!!! 🎂🎁🥳🎉🎈 -practice ⚔️🤺🥷 -rat dad 🐀🧀

have fun!!!!! (≧▽≦)

ok hi! you are one of my favorite people now please know this! i am working on doing all five of these, but i can only answer this once so your getting the one im already done. ill link things as they finish + a03 posts.

Tumbler: [Fears], [Turtle Tots], [Birthdays!], [You are here!], [Rat Dad]

A03: [Fears], [Turtle Tots], [Birthdays!], [Practice], [Rat Dad]

Practice - Rise/2018 - 1K

Leo sat entirely amused by his older brother's antics. The stepping turtle was walking around the dojo, switching weapons from normal racks to the other brothers' spots.

Raph roamed around as Leo spoke “Is this another one of your training ideas?” He asked

Raph snorted, “It’s not dumb.”

Leo raised an eyeridge. “What the hell are we doing then?”

“Language. And we are swapping weapons today.” Raph pulled Donnies bō from the rack, putting his own tonfā in its place.

Leo leaned back on the beanbag, still watching.

“So a disaster, got it.”

“We gotta be ready in case something happens Leon.” Raph turned, face all serious. “Shredder is still out there-“

Leo waved one hand. “Not really bro, he's done and dealt with.”

Raph raised an eyeridge, but sighed. “If you think so. Still, it's better to be ready then not.”

Leo groaned, missing the grin that came over Raphs face.

“So ya don't want to see what happens when I give donnie two blunt weapons instead of one?”

Leo bolted up, his own grin spreading on his face. “Oh that I want to see.”

Raph laughed as Donnie and Mikey came into the dojo, both giving him confused looks.

Leo waved them off, pushing himself out of the beanbag. He grinned as he grabbed Mikey's kusari-fundo, spinning it around.

Mikey squacked, but Raph put an arm out before the box could lunge at him.

“We're doing a thing today big man.” Raph snorted as Mikey glared at him. “Will you cheer up if I give you something sharp?”

“Wait, that’s mine!” Leo yelped as Mikey scrambled over Raphs arm, grabbing Leo's sword off the wall.

"There mine now fucko!” Mikey grinned, leaning on the sword the same as Leo often did.

“Language.” Raph and Donnie spoke at the same time, though neither had any heat to it. Both Mikey and Leo rolled their eyes.

Donnie took the tonfā, then looked back at Raph. “You just switched our weapons.”

Raph shrugged. “yep.”

“Why.”

“‘Cus.”

“Groan.”

— — —

Leo stood opposite Mikey, kusari-fundo in hand. He grinned, moving to mimicking one of Mikey's lower stances. He held the longer part in one hand, chain wrapped around his other wrist.

Mikey stood, ohidi in hand. He had a wider stance, sword held up in the same pose Leo often took. Mikey was grinning, head tilted down, spots glowing slightly.

“Alright you two,” Raph called out, pausing to make sure he had their attention. “No nimpo, normal training rules apply. play nice now.”

Mikey giggled as Leo nodded. Leo was only slightly nervous about putting a blade in Mikey’s hands, but oh well. It was too late now.

Raph held up one hand. “Three.”

Raph folded down his thumb as the pair turned to face each other. “Two.”

Raph folded another finger down. “One.”

Raph dropped his hand. “Go!”

Leo jumped back as Mikey lunged forward, a mad cackle escaping them.

Leo laughed as he held up the chain to block the sword as it came down the first time. the little shit had gone straight for his head.

Leo de-tangled his hand, flinging it forward to wrap around his sword as Mikey tried to jump back.

Mikey, of course, got away faster than Leo could act. Mikey grinned, still giggling like the little demon he was.

Leo rolled his eyes, flinging the chain forward. It stopped short of mikey.

They both paused. Leo could feel one eye twitch. Mikey snorted after a moment.

“Dude, that was so bad.” Mikey looked ready to explode with laughter.

“Shut up.” Leo groaned, grabbing the chain and coiling it back up.

“Wanna try again?” Mikey teased, still giggling.

Leo rolled his eyes, attempting Mikey's move once again.

This time he caught the blade. He grinned. Mikey groaned.

Leo laughed as he yanked Mikey forward.

Mikey smiled, letting go of the blade.

Leo yelped. He dropped Mikey’s kusari-fundo as he jumped back, not wanting to get cut by his own blade <i>again</i>.

Raph just sighed as Donnie let out a small laugh.

Leo turned to raph. "Hey, I got Dee to laugh.” He grinned.

Raph had an amused look on his face, no matter the shake of the head and the flick of the tail Leo got.

“Yeah sure.” Raph waved them forward, not able to hide his laugh.

Leo and Mikey shared a grin, grabbing their respective weapons and running over to stand next to Donnie and Raph.

Raph gave Leo a pat on the shoulder as they traded spots, bō in his other hand. Donnie's wooden bō was in the lab, the snapper not daring to train with the metal one lest he face Donnies wrath.

Donnie and Raph stood opposite, both standing straight. Donnie moved to bow, Raph following suit not half a second later.

Leo rolled his eyes, raising one hand to mimic what Raph had done just a few minutes before.

The older pair didn’t seem to need it, Raph lunging forward with bō ready to strike.

Donnie brought his hands up after a second hesitation, absorbing what little of the blow they hadn't been able to avoid.

Raph stepped back, raising the bō. He shook his head, dropping it back into a more neutral stance.

Donnie took this chance to lunge forward, fist raised to try and pounce Raph in the chest.

Raph stepped to the side, grabbing Donnies hand and pushing him aside.

Donnie spun as he landed, the other fist managing to make contact into Raph’s shoulder.

Raph grunted, bringing the bō down to bonk Donnie on the head.

Donnie stepped back, hissing.

Raph snorted, moving back to prepare for another strike.

Donnie leapt forward, managing to land another blow on raph.

Raph related by tripping the soft shell, bō coming down, stopping just at Donnie's throat.

Raph grinned, Donnie sighing.

Raph offered a hand, pulling Donnie up in one movement.

Mikey leaned over to Leo, mumbling. “Now I feel bad for messing around.”

Leo shrugged. “Yeah, but they train more.”

Mikey nodded as Raph congratulated donnie. “That’s true.”

Leo shrugged. “wanna go again?”

Mikey giggled. “Sure!”

[fortunatetragedy]

rubbing my dirty little hands together

3 18 22 34 53 67 for whoever seems most fun to answer for :)

I thought I posted this yesterday MY BAD <3

It's Thirsty Ask O'Clock and one of my favorite degenerates is here hi Skylar :D

I have a feeling I'm going to end up answering for both Sullivan and Royston LOL. (Even when Khalid is old enough to answer sexy questions, the answers are all "I'm asexual, go away.")

3. Did they have an experience they consider their "sexual awakening"?

So... I'm letting Royston sit this one out for Legal Reasons.

Sullivan...

Bullet points and a blunt, jokey tone to minimize emotional damage, that's the way I roll baby:

be Cole Sullivan

have reached The Age of Reason

concluded you're not only not sure about Catholicism but you're not too keen on the idea of getting married either?

(you don't abandon Catholicism until the American Civil War when you watch your tenth or twentieth friend get greased right in front of you)

spend a lot of time working down at the Tilford ranch once you're old enough (like 12? they didn't gaf how old you were re: anything in 1847-48)

that's right Sullivan had his sexual awakening at a horse ranch with a boy

(IDK if it was the same boy every summer or what that's a job for the fanfic writers)

anyway his dad found out when he was 15 and they physically fought over it and then Sullivan joined the Army so that wasn't super fun

but I bet that was a real nice summer he had the summer he was 13-14

18. Preferred position?

You know what? I'll give you both of them.

From this point on there is heavy spoiler talk for DMLS Books 1 + 2, as well as light talk of trauma as it pertains to Royston's backstory. (Gotta be mindful of your partner's trauma when you're getting nasty, right?)

Royston is a top. An aggressive top LOL. He does not, as a general rule, mentally enjoy being the receptive partner even if it is physically pleasurable. In the past, every instance I have of him giving oral or receiving anal sex has been to manipulate the guy. He stopped doing that in his twenties and sticks to "You try to stick it [a dick] in me, I'll stick it [a knife] in YOU." That rule does not apply to Sullivan. He loves both of those things with Sullivan and I cannot explain it without writing an essay which I will totally do if someone needs me to show my work. And since Sullivan has lower-limb mobility issues in Book 2, he has to be adaptable in how his fantasies play out. His absolute favorite way of doing it with Sullivan (standing missionary, ig? where the wall takes the place of the bed, Royston puts his back to the wall and holds onto Sullivan like a spider monkey) can only be done until June 1873, and then only really once Sullivan's got his strength and balance back (he's had a transfemoral amputation.) I don't think he cares too much as long as Sullivan is having a good time tbh.

Sullivan will talk for a page if I don't just cut to the chase: face-down with Royston on top of him like a human blanket. In Book 1, Sullivan also seemed to enjoy cowboy quite a bit, and I'm not mad about that. Like. He's a cavalryman with very little sexual experience. I can't expect anything else out of him.

22. How shy are they with new sexual partners?

I'm going to give you both of them again bc they're short answers:

Royston isn't shy. He's a psychopath; if he's with somebody in any sense of the word, he's hoping to get something out of them. I've run his ability to be whatever the other man wants him to be in simulations and it's fucking terrifying.

Sullivan may as well be a virgin (been in the Army since 15 and he's 37-38; he takes his job seriously, so once he was promoted to Corporal he just shut that shit down entirely.) He was shy the first few iterations of the time loop (death wipes a person's memory; Sullivan is, uh, the king of dying) but now that he and Royston have done this a few times he's got the hang of it.

34. What's the most adventurous thing they've tried during sex?

[flips to page 584]

Sullivan proposed they practice Royston's hematomancy during sex and broke out a knife. He may as well have proposed marriage. It ends up having practical benefit in Book 2, so good job dude, I thought Royston's being a FREAK had just worn off on you~

53. Do they prefer to call it fucking, having sex, sleeping together, or something different?

Depending on the mood they're in, they've both referred to it as laying together, making love, staying the night, and "not be[ing] able to walk tomorrow" (OK that one was Royston. In the first draft. Before he realized Sullivan doesn't care for that kind of talk.) Royston doesn't typically call it "fucking," "fornicating," or any of the other more colorful turns of phrase he would normally employ because Sullivan is a good person whose feelings he tries not to hurt.

67. Do they have any anxiety around having sex with someone new?

Oh for sure LOL. I'll just focus on Royston, because I answered this for Sullivan a bit earlier and I could write an essay on why he had anxiety around having sex with Royston LOL.

(I don't need to write an essay, I wrote the October 1872 chapters.)

Being alone in a room with another man is always a high-stakes situation for Royston. He used to be a mercenary assassin, and he has childhood trauma that I'm not going to get into here. He does not take female partners, nor has he ever, but I'd imagine if he did he would have the same attitude because the women in Royston's world are bad bitches. Like, there are probably a number of people who are pissed off they can't use their female assassins to finish him off, because he only sleeps with men. (Everyone remember Royston was born in 1828. THAT TOOK OUT SUCH A HUGE PERCENTAGE OF THE ASSASSIN POPULATION. NO WONDER NO ONE'S GAKKED HIM YET.) He has had a man who he thought he could trust turn on and overpower him before, as a grown-assed adult, and that made him have anxiety in general for a minute. (PTSD, Jamie. The word is PTSD.) He may have spent his thirties in a "fuck the world" phase where he goaded people into trying something with him. Weaponized his trauma a bit, you know? He's in his mid-40s when we meet him, and he survived whatever his thirties were like and is back to being DTF.

The first few iterations of the loop, he didn't trust Sullivan. He kept thinking "Surely this gentleman act is complete bullshit, once we get our clothes off he's going to turn into the same cotton-skulled no-wit they all turn into eventually, let's just draw it out early and get it over with." And that never happened. Sullivan was a gentleman the whole time they were banging even though Royston was a gremlin. They eventually learned to trust each other, and they fell in as much of love as it was possible to be in considering Royston is a psychopath and Sullivan recognized that and was protecting his boundaries.

They died at the end of the original timeline and had to start over from the moment they met (September 1872) with neither of them remembering any of the events between September '72 and June '74. There were several loops where either they both died, or Sullivan died, so the same thing would occur, but each loop Royston trusted Sullivan a little earlier, or a little more, and on the "final" loop in book 1 he not only demonstrates that he has total trust in Sullivan but he also finally gets it through his thick skull that Sullivan has sensory issues and maybe he needs to not be so goddamn loud when they're knocking boots.

[agentgrumpy-gils]

Anya’s SwynWriMo : Task 15

NPC Playlist!: Make a playlist for an important NPC in your character’s life – 10 songs minimum, a little description for each song.

i'm losing by their side (i'm sorry i'm the one you love) : a gil x leo playlist <3 <3

Well, well, well! I feel like we all knew this was coming. Anyway, I have a running Gil x Leo playlist that I indiscriminately add to, but for purposes of this task I pruned it up a bit, added songs so it's an even 20, and put it in thematic order (which means I will probably copy it to a different playlist for less curation and more vibes). The brief glance TLDR key to this playlist is that Odd Numbered Songs are Leo POV and Even Numbered Songs are Gil POV. 

The descriptions are below the embed:

CW for generally unhealthy relationship vibes, bad copiing mechanisms, and a LOT of self hatred <3

And I screamed for whatever it's worth "I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift

The first rule of this playlist is that all the Taylor Swift songs are Leo POV. I’ve decided he unabashedly likes Taylor Swift. Anyway, I imagine the first summer they were in New York really kicked off this scandalous secret love affair. Secret relationships and yearning are a big part of this playlist. 

I know who I am when I'm alone I'm something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

It Will Come Back - Hozier

This is a Very Gil song because your boy does not let himself feel affection <3 

Come inside and be with me, alone with me Alone, with me alone If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses Then I wouldn't have to scream your name Atop of every roof in the city of my heart If I could see you Once more to see you

Once More to See You - Mitski

Oh, yes there’s also a LOT of Mitski on this playlist! And she applies to both of them! Woooo! The line about screaming your lover’s name on rooftops just lives rent free in my mind always, and it seems like the big big emotion and metaphor that Leo would have. Leo wears his heart on his sleeve, whereas Gil zips his up. 

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

IYKYK. This one’s mostly vibes idk what else to tell you. 

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbin' with your head in your hands Ain't that the way shit always ends?

Maroon - Taylor Swift

More Taylor for Leo! I think this is like maybe the First Slip that Gil has, and maybe around where Leo has trepidations. 

If you would just make one mistake What a relief that would be But I think for as long as we're together I'll be the only heartbreaker

The Only Heartbreaker - Mitski

…and this is Gil acknowledging that he fucked up and he’s gonna break Leo’s heart but he cannot help it, that’s just who he is and it would be SO MUCH EASIER too if Leo just fucked up too but he’s not gonna because Leo’s gonna stay at his side and aajkdKLSDJLKASDjlk

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

Leo can't even bring himself to fall for anyone else <3

I shine only with the light you gave me

The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives

IDK what else to say besides Gil doesn’t think he’s a very light person. 

I bet on losing dogs I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place By the ring Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down I'll be there on their side I'm losing by their side

I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

Gil is the losing dog <3 <3 Leo is still betting on him <3 <3 Even though he’s losing <3 <3 He’ll stay by Gil’s side <3 <3 when he’s down <3 im gonna be sick 

You're an angel, I'm a dog Or you're a dog and I'm your man You believe me like a god I destroy you like I am I'm sorry I'm the one you love No one will ever love me like you again So, when you leave me, I should die I deserve it, don't I?

I’m Your Man - Mitski

YEAH I PUT THE DOG METAPHOR MITSKI LYRICS BACK TO BACK AND WHAT OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IDK what else to say about this one, except woof. (ha)

Habibi, light is burning As I am burning Habibi, light is burning And I am yearning

Habibi - Tamino

This is #meta bc this is a Tamino song, but I also like the idea that Gil taught Leo some arabic and Leo calls him habibi, at first in a teasing way, but then genuinely, because Gil doesn’t like calling people pet names but he sure as hell loves them secretly. 

I had been lost to you, sunlight And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight But it is sunlight

Sunlight - Hozier

Leo’s love is Gil’s small little bit of sunlight slkjdalkjds

Give me more, I'll be all your love I believe in heaven above Come and give me life Show me what it's like to fall into your arms

God in Jeans - Ryan Beaetty

Leo being hopeful! He wants this to work!

Relive all the ways you still want me I haven't given you what you need You wanted me but couldn't reach me I'm sorry it should've been me

Should’ve Been Me - Mitski

This entire Mitski album makes me want to carve my heart out with how Gil-coded it is. This is Gil running off! He’s running off! He’s not reachable! He’s closing himself off!

So if you need to be mean Be mean to me I can take it and put it inside of me If your hands need to break More than trinkets in your room You can lean on my arm As you break my heart

I Don’t Smoke - Mitski

AND HERE IS THE COUNTER, WHERE LEO IS LIKE I DONT CARE ILL LET YOU BE MEAN TO ME TAKE ALL THAT HATE AND ANGER AND GRIEF IN YOUR HEART AND GIVE IT TO ME

I will poison all your happy thoughts I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box And if you're fine with that You can be mine If you're fine with that You can be mine, oh

Tongues & Teeth - The Crane Wives

And Gil’s like bet. I will literally destroy you. But if you're okay with that... jk... unless

Well, there was a time when you let me know What's really going on below But now you never show that to me, do you? But remember, when I moved in you And the holy dove was moving too And every breath, we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley

Listen. LISTEN. For whatever reason, I had this pegged as Gil POV, because it’s on his regular playlist, but then I listened to it and i was like oh God no this is SO Leo-coded. It was hard to pick a specific line, but I picked my favorite stanza (the moved in you, holy dove was moving too M U R D E R S me). 

I wanna love you but I don't know how I don't know how

Neptune - Sleeping At Last

Yeah <3

And there we are again when nobody had to know You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

All Too Well (10 Minute Version) - Taylor Swift

If you listen to this too specifically of course it does not fit, but there are lines that just work so dang well, and I think this one is one of my favorites. I’m actually really torn on All Too Well (10 Minutes) because what I loved about the universal was how flexible it was (aka how well I could project it on my Blorbos). But the specificity of the 10 minute version really just **oof** gets ya and Miss Taylor, I will be cutting and pasting all the out of context lines for my own use. 

I push you away Although I wish you could stay

Sinking Man - Of Monsters and Men

Also yeah <3 

[galeforged]

👤 + shigeru can spill the beans about Miki as a treat (your rules don’t apply to me)

via Send me 👤+ a character name for my muse’s opinion on that character (closed but the rules did not apply to her)

"Come on... you know I had to ask at some point," behind a cheeky grin did come Kōtarō's tongue-in-cheek chiding, directed towards Shigeru much like the flask of water he was waving about. "Wouldn't you rather I be the one asking you about it? Instead of... I dunno, you getting teased for it by one of your subordinates or... Captain Iba, maybe?"

All the Lieutenant received for a response was another grumble from the fussy 7th Division officer... who then all but snatched the bottle right from his hand. A hearty swig saw the man down a good portion of H2O, before he let out a loud and hearty sigh. Part of it came from his own exasperation from Kōta's inquiry, thought their lengthy sparring did leave him exhausted.

"Giggle even once, an' I'll gut ya 'fore it's game on again." That was all the warning Shigeru gave before he casually tossed the battle back to Ryōhei. It's a good thing that Shōrō Kanraku was already well within arm's reach...

"Ha! Good one."

The remark was met with the clank of sword within sheath as Shigeru grabbed the hilt by his side, earning him a jolt from Kōtarō sitting by his side.

"O-okay, sheesh! Message received, no jokes, Lieutenant's honour and all that..." His hands were already raised, palms out defensively until the blade was, after a terse few seconds, finally let go. With remnants of the anxious grin on his face melting into a more sympathetic simper, Kōtarō resolved to ease off on Shigeru's case. After all, it was rare to see him open up to his sensitive side. "So... Captain Fuyuno, huh?"

"Hm." Only an affirming grunt and a nod followed while Shigeru gazed off to nowhere in particular.

"What is it about her, then?"

Now that earned Kōta something of a proper smile from his friend. Good, no threat of imminent violence.

"A coupla things, I guess... Bein' real friggin' patient with my ass is already a big plus tho'," Shigeru laughed, albeit sardonically as it came at his own expense. "But yeah, she's... fantastic, really. Short enough that you'd end up losin' 'er in a pile o' pillows, but she's got the right kinda attitude ta not take sass from anybody. Puts a lotta work into her looks and the results just speak for themselves like... I can't focus for shit when I end up thinkin' about 'er. Not the fairytale-like hair, not her pretty-lookin' face, and her voice straight up makes me melt, especially when she's actin' all playful. She humoured me with a sparrin' match once, an' I walked away from it wantin' to learn Kidō, an' from her, too! Me!"

Upon hearing all of that, Lieutenant Ryōhei couldn't help but let out a low whistle. Subtlety, sadly, never was Shigeru's strongest suit, so his feelings towards Miki were never the best hidden. Upon hearing him spilling his guts out, however... perhaps he didn't give his friend enough credit.

"Alright, so you're not just infatuated..." Kōtarō observed, murmur cut short with a few sips of water on his end. "So after all that, and you're still not taking initiative? Whatever happened to the courageous and all-boasting Gushiken-sama from before, huh?" Though his words spoke of admonishment, he ensured the concern in his tone came from a genuine place all the same. Not entirely out of fear of retaliation of some kind though, heavens no... though, curiously, the 13th Division reaper seemed to glance back towards the entrance to the square they were sparring within.

"I ain't... good at this romancin' stuff. Ne'er bothered before since... well, 11th Division grunts don't often appreciate dames the way they oughta be appreciated, and that reputation sticks, try as Cap'n Zaraki might to change that. Some of 'em even go out an' buy their own fun for a night, if ya catch my drift. Not that anyone really caught my eye much either, anyway..."

Kōtarō could say something in reference to Shigeru's partial blindness, but, oath-bound not to crack wise, he kept mum.

"Then Cap'n Fuyuno comes along, an' now I'm worried if I'm even good enough for a proper lady like her, y'anno? Never mindin' the fact she's a Cap'n. I don't... wanna risk makin' 'er look bad in that station, not for associatin' with a brute like me. That, an' I can't keep gettin' frazzled ev'rytime she bats eyes at me. Not settin' a good example as 3rd Seat if I don't get my act together..."

To hear Shigeru admit as much, complete with a disparaging sigh on his part, only brought Kōta to smile upon hearing that.

"Isn't the fact that you do worry about things like this all the more reason for you to try? You know, something about being your best self? To me, it just shows that you're being conscientious of her," he suggested. "Besides, if you weren't capable of that sort of maturity in the first place, I doubt Captain Iba would've taken you under his command."

"Ya think so, eh?"

"I know so! Give yourself more credit, bud." With a well-meaning pat onto Shigeru's shoulder, Kōtarō... then slowly rose to his feet.

"Ya ready for round two, then?" Shigeru already made to reach for his zanpakutō, taking the lieutenant getting up as his cue.

"What? No, no! I'm just getting ready to run, that's all. You can thank me later," came Kōta's clarification in kind, spoken all too dismissively while he ensured Hai'iro Ranmaru was properly sheathed by his side. Shihakushō seemed all nice and orderly on his person too... so, with that, he turned back towards the training square's entrance as if he were expecting someone.

"Wait, the hell d'ya mean by-?"

"Captain Fuyuno! He's all yours!" And without any further prompting, he vanished with a burst of shunpo. What better way to get Shigeru's proper thoughts out in the open than with a hint of deceit?

"YOU SET ME UP?!"

[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.”

[authornina]

The Tassle Worth the Hassle: Congratulations Sav!👨🏾‍🎓

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Chi kept standing up screaming Sav’s name when it got quiet and he ducked his head like he didn’t know who the hell her crazy ass was. She was doing it to purposely embarrass him. 

“Sit your ass down!” Ivy whispered. “You making us all look crazy!” 

“I love you Dayvion! I’m so proud of you baby!” Chi said one last thing before taking her seat.

The ceremony was long and many people in the stadium started becoming drowsy. Thank goodness they didn’t bring any of their children because no way could a bunch of two and one-year olds sit through this.

After two hours of honoring specific students, and guest speakers, Sav was up. He was graduating Summa Cum Laude and Lake couldn’t have been prouder. He and some other students were sitting on the stage. They’d been chosen to represent the student body because they held the highest distinctions amongst their peers. Of the three who’d held the highest distinctions, they voted and chose him to give the speech. 

When Sav stood up the whole class erupted. He was popular on campus not only as a ladies man but the weed man as well. They absolutely loved him. He was one of the few African Americans that attended the prestigious university, so it was easy to stand out. 

“Why are they goin’ up for my husband like this?” Chi asked, being drowned out by the amount of cheering happening for Sav. 

“Chill, y’all,” Sav said over the mic. “Dean Lee said she not for my shit—” he slipped up and everyone laughed. “I mean stuff today.”

The Dean who was also black shook her head at his use of language, but she knew how Dayvion Porter, which she addressed him as could be. They’d had several run ins over the course of his college career. The young man with tattoos galore, foul mouth and pants off his ass was indeed by measure the smartest one in the sea of thousands of students. She wanted this young black scholar to have his moment even in its rawness. This was black excellence being shown at a PWI and she was proud nonetheless. 

“Ummm…everybody know I ain’t wanna do this.” Sav did not try to sound intelligent or put on for nobody. They wanted him to give this speech he was going to do it as him. Educated and all, he was true to himself. “I told Dean Lee I would be honest and y’all still chose me so here we go…” 

“Fucking right bro!” A white guy shouted from the crowd. 

“I know a lot of us struggled to make it to this stage. Not only the amount of work we had to put in to make it here but the pressure, financial restraints, family issues, our mental incapacities at times…a lot more goes into just getting a degree. Picking something you can actually apply and let’s be honest, make money from in this nut ass world. Shout out to y’all who got art degrees, it’s about to be hell,” Sav said honestly and the audience died of laughter. “I know some of y’all personally who went through some of this. To be honest, ion know what it look like. I couldn’t relate because I didn’t have those problems. Y’all probably thought I’m the made it out the hood specialty case. I had a big brother who not only kept pushing me to finish but made sure I didn’t have not one worry while doing it, so this was a breeze for me actually. I don’t need no college degree, but I did this for one person and one person only. My brother Lake. I wanna honor him with this because a lot of the great people, the ones behind the scenes who never get recognized are the real ones that make it happen. I was able to run a whole business, get married, have kids, live my life stress free. He gave me what I know a lot of people who look like me never get. A peace of mind. A care-free life, the tools I needed to be successful and I thank him for that every day.” Sav was looking right at Lake. “My brother the reason why I get to stand here right now…so this to the single moms out here doing it all on their own that got their kids to this day, to the dads working day and night to pay for tuitions, the grandparents, siblings, aunties and uncles who put their all into a kid to see them do better. If it wasn’t for y’all, I’m sure we wouldn’t be up in here falling asleep and waiting to hear our name called for a degree we couldn’t have gotten without y’all.” 

Although the ceremony wasn’t done after Sav’s speech all the students felt every word he said and so did the families there to support them. 

“Wait…” Dean Lee got up ready to stop them but it was too late all the graduates were up on their feet, throwing their caps in the air. It was like a big party started. It took twenty minutes to get everything settled then the degrees were finally handed out. 

“Dayvion Porter,” they called Sav’s name to receive his degree and it went crazy again. 

“That’s it!” the president of the school got up waving his hands then shouted in the mic. “Everyone please sit down!”                                                       ******* Lake waited patiently, watching Sav bump fists with a bunch of people because he wasn’t about to touch all them hands. He stood in his robe, medals and cords around his neck looking like a true scholar. He admired the hell out of his little brother. Not even for finishing but remaining authentic and true to himself during the process. Sav had his moments but everything he set out to accomplish, had been done. Lake couldn’t and wouldn’t ask anymore of him.

“You proud of me?” Sav asked, coming towards him with his arms out for hug.

“So proud man,” Lake smiled, embracing his baby brother. “I’m so fuckin’ proud.” 

“Thank you, where the fuck everybody go?” 

“Home, they didn’t want to stay around for the crowd and all the traffic.”

“Now you know that’s fucked up. Even my own wife? All this and them niggas dip on me? Take me home to my kids. Nobody better not say shit to me.”

“Chill, I wanted you to take a ride with me.”  

“Ion even feel like it.” Sav’s feelings were hurt. His whole family was worried about beating traffic than his big day. It upset him more because he didn’t even care about it as much as they did.

They had to get all of his gifts professors, the school, students and others got for him. Sav indeed was their favorite. Someone even gave him basketball season tickets. Once they were in the car Lake did his best not to laugh. Sav was really upset. 

“Why the fuck we here?” 

Lake pulled into to the strip club they used to frequent and Sav knew something was up now. His brother wasn’t allowed to be a hundred feet of no strippers per his wife’s rules. Only if she was DJing did Avery let him enter the building.

“Because I thought it would cheer you up.” 

“I told you I don’t feel like shit no more. Them niggas fucked my mood up. Especially, Chi, she really dipped on me. Her fuckin’ muscle head ass better hope ion divorce her.”

“Sav, relax, nigga,” Lake laughed lighting a blunt then passing it to him. “Hassan would be proud of you man.”

“Yea…” Sav put his head back blowing out smoke. “I be thinkin’ bout Daddy a lot.” 

“Me too, all the time actually…I wish he would’ve made it, seen you today. It’s moments like this that make life worth living.” Lake stared out the window. After a few seconds of silence, he reached in the back seat and handed Sav an envelope. 

“What’s this?” 

“I ain’t know what to get a nigga that got it all for a graduation gift.” 

“Aw man…” Sav looked at all the papers and got emotional. 

Lake knew it bothered him that he didn’t know where he came from for sure. He couldn’t do a traditional testing since their father was deceased and had been cremated. But there was sibling DNA test and because Sav, Lake, Vant and Wreck didn’t share the same mother, it was easy to get proof. If he wasn’t Hassan’s he’d have not an ounce of relation to them.  

“Sav even if that shit ain’t say what we already knew it wouldn’t have made you any less my brother. I hope you know that.” 

“Thanks man,” Sav dapped Lake up and he pulled him in for a hug.

“Why the fuck y’all sittin’ in here cuddling and shit?” Wreck was about to get in the back, but Lake had car seats. “Nigga, Avery whip don’t have nothing in it. I swear you and Vant the wives.” 

“Fuck you nigga,” Lake pushed him getting out the car. “Stop takin’ your anger out on everybody. I told you come talk to me, you wanna hide out and shit. Think Daly ain’t tell me the bullshit you been on.” 

“I ain’t got nothing to say, and Daly a nut for bringin’ shit to you like I’m not a grown ass man! It’s fuck everything and that’s on my Daddy.” Wreck walked over and dapped Sav up. “I’m proud of you nigga.” 

“Are you really bro?” 

“Yea! Ion mean to be so hard on you. I apologize. Just…you know I’m dealin’ with my own shit right now, but I love you man.”

“I know, it’s cool, I love you too.” Sav felt bad for his brother. Wreck didn’t know which way he was going. It had spread about Gia breaking up with him. A simple, I don’t want to be with you anymore, was all the reason she gave him. That’s all he got from her. Wreck opened himself up to a woman for the last time. 

“Let’s go in here, I can’t be out for long or A will come lookin’ for me.” 

“Cause you a whipped ass—” 

“Y’all keep saying that,” Lake laughed, cutting Wreck off. “But I’m happy as fuck. I have no resistance in letting love take over me anymore.” 

“And you know what? I am genuinely jealous and that ain’t even me bro.” 

“Wreck,” Lake stopped walking. “I’m for real, come talk to me. Tomorrow, nigga.” 

“Everything already fucked up, bro. Gia will never be with me again.” 

“How?” Sav asked.

“Ion wanna talk about it.” 

“What the hell is taking so long?!” Chi pushed the door open. 

“Fuck is you doing here?” Sav looked at Lake confused. “I did not ask to come here, Chi. Lake brought me. I was on the way home.” He started defending himself immediately. 

“Get in here, Dayvion.” Chi pulled him along and it was dark as hell on the inside.

“SURPRISE!” the lights, loud ass music and cheering all happened at the same time. The whole club was decorated in his school colors with a big ass banner congratulating him. Everybody was holding cutouts of Sav’s head from his graduation photo. 

“You did this for me?” Sav wanted to cry.

“Mhm…” 

“I love you,” Sav kissed her all the way down on the couch. 

“Stop Sav!” Chi laughed. “My dress is comin’ up! You doin’ all this in front of people!” 

“Can I give my brother a hug now?” Dem asked and they let each other go. “I’m proud of you bul.” 

“Thank you.” Sav hugged Dem longer than he did his own wife. Chi was over trying to get in between something that Sav needed to literally survive, to breathe and have good days. They were working through a lot of things and as long as he prioritized her and their children then he could love on Dem all he wanted. 

“I’m so proud of you, boo boo,” Ivy said kissing her baby all over. 

“Ard come on with all that shit,” Vant tore them apart. “We got a surprise for you later,” he whispered making Sav laugh.

“Shout out to my young nigga Sav! Congratulations bro!” DJ AP shouted in the mic sounding like a nigga making everybody crack the fuck up. She was barely six weeks post-partum and came out to party for her favorite person much to Lake’s dismay. “This one for you baby!” Avery pointed at him then played Nicki Minaj Moment for Life. Sav wouldn’t openly admit he was a fan. 

“No, I'm not lucky, I'm blessed, yes, clap for the heavyweight champ, me! But I couldn't do it all alone, we!” Sav jumped on all his brothers. The moment was so nice. “Lake Porter raised me,” he remixed the lyrics. 

Lake looked at Wreck who was visibly sad and hugged his brother and in front of everyone Wreck received it because he really needed it. 

“It’s gon’ be okay, ard?” 

“Yea…” Wreck didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s day so he decided to just put his own issues aside for the time being. Vant handed him a drink patting his back. 

“It’s ard bro.” 

“Put ya drinks up,” Dem held his glass in the air with is arm wrapped around Sav. “It's a celebration, every time we link up, we done did everything, they can think of, greatness, is what we on the brink of!”

“I WISH THAT I COULD HAVE THIS MOMENT FOR LIFE!” everyone sang 

[obxsummer]

Breaking Ankles // John B. Routledge

platonic!John B x neutral!reader

part of #obx2celebration

masterlist

ask me anything

summary below the cut to avoid spoilers

summary: running through charleston was anything but easy so it's not uncalled for to end it with a few bruises and scrapes. you were just happy it was john b applying your band-aids.

--

Charleston was a beautiful city, but when you were running for your life, it somehow got more confusing and you were beginning to hate every bit of it. Pope’s invitation from someone who had evidence to clear John B had not gone well in any way, and now you, Kie, Pope, and JJ were running for your lives in an attempt to get back home.

Mr. Heyward’s truck had busted, even after Kie footed the bill to get it fixed on your way over. You were dreading the chaos of going home. Pope would no doubt get in trouble, not to mention Kiara’s parents would flip their lid on her.

“We gotta go now!” JJ’s hands were pushing your shoulders, causing you to almost trip as you all stumbled out of the truck.

“Guys, I think he has a gun!” Kiara shouted from behind you as you took off running. You were too focused on your breathing and making sure you didn’t trip to look back.

“Shit, get down!” JJ pointlessly commented as if any of you could duck and run successfully.

You turned a corner and almost crashed into some older woman. “Sorry!” You shouted over your shoulder as you ducked down another alleyway to hide in. Pope grunted next to you and held his side as he cursed about a cramp.

“This way, we might have to split up!” JJ directed. Your lungs were burning with each breath and you cursed your friends for always having to find a way to end up running from something. It wasn’t uncommon for your group, hence the reason you should probably be used to it by now. “We gotta lose them!”

JJ collided with a man carrying a couple of packages and sent the boxes flying up into the air. He cursed and mumbled out an apology as the guy yelled at the four of you. “Right here, go!” He pulled on your t-shirt sleeve and yanked you down a brick lined ally.

“He’s gaining, let’s go!” Pope shouted from behind you.

JJ groaned. “I am going, Pope. I know, I know. You guys gotta keep up.”

You shoved past the blond boy back out onto the main sidewalk before screeching to a stop as a bicycle almost hit you. Looking up, your face broke out into the biggest smile at the sight of John B and Sarah staring back at you.

There was no time for celebration before the boy in front of you was rushing you all to climb on. “Get in! Get in! Get in! Come on!” The size of the bike was really inconvenient and there was no way all of you would fit on it. As Kie hopped in the seat next to Sarah, you, JJ, and Pope crowded the back of it and started pushing as John B pedaled.

“Oh, my God,” You huffed in exhaustion as you continued to run in between the two boys while pushing the bike. In a lack of coordination, you stepped at the same time as JJ and lost your balance. A scream left your lips as you tumbled against the hard concrete, managing to knock down the guy who was chasing you in the mix. “Shit!”

“Y/N!” John B’s voice broke through your confusion as you struggled to get back on your feet. The guy who had been chasing after Pope remained on the ground, groaning. John B’s attention was still on you as he shouted, “You’re bleeding!”

“No shit!” With a wince, you got back on your feet and waved your friends on. “Don’t stop, keep going! I’m coming!” You hissed at the sharp pain in your ankle, not to mention the blood that was dripping down your knee and elbow. Pope stretched his arm out to grab your hand before he pulled you onto the ledge with him.

JJ laughed excitedly, “See you later, asshole! Woohoo!” He made sure to flip off your chasers as John B continued to pedal away from the chaos you caused in Charleston.

“Y/N!” Sarah reached back to give you an awkward hug as the bike began to slow with your arrival to the shore where you assumed John B and Sarah had a boat. Despite the amount of pain sure to hit you once you calmed down, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face at the return of your best friends.

After abandoning the bicycle, you all clambered down to where the Cameron’s Bahama boat was. As JJ, Pope, and Kie moved to refuel and prep to leave, John B’s attention was set on you. The two of you had always had this intense (and slightly intimate) relationship with each other. When he started dating Sarah, it was one of the first things he told her about so she wasn’t alarmed. That had always been his rule with girls: if they didn’t accept you, they weren’t staying.

You and John B had grown up together, for starters, but ever since you were about 10, it was like you were on the same wavelength. Kinda like soulmates, but in a non-romantic way. You loved John B, and he loved you, but you guys could never survive as a couple. It was one of those things where you were too similar and stubborn and it would end in a disaster.

If Sarah was honest, she loved watching you two function together. It was surreal. You guys moved in tandem, one doing what the other was thinking. It was beautiful, and she couldn’t even be jealous. She was just glad John B had someone like you in his life who could communicate so flawlessly with him.

“Hiya, bubs,” John B crouched down to where you were seated in the sand for the time being. He was holding the boat’s extensive first aid kit in his hands in hopes that something in it would help.

You smiled at him and didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. The warmth from his hands spread across your body as you let your fingers play with a few strands of hair. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” He replied as he kissed your forehead before pulling back. “I’m gonna get you up on this boat and we’re gonna figure this all out, m’kay?”

You nodded and took his outstretched hand before standing up on the ankle that wasn’t hurting. John B climbed up onto the boat first and then maneuvered as best as possible to get you up without hurting your injuries any further. Once you were situated, JJ took over the wheel and began to steer your course back home.

A hiss left your mouth when John B used a disinfecting wipe to clean your scratches. He mumbled an apology each time before covering them with some medicine and a bandage. You leaned your head back against the cushion you were lying on. “This is so not how I imagined our reunion going.”

“Yeah?” John B joked as he used the large elastic wrap to help your ankle as best as possible until you could see a doctor. “And how exactly did you imagine it?”

You shrugged lightly and played with one of his banadas you always kept on your wrist. “I don’t know. Figured I was gonna be kicking some drinks in the hammock at the Chateau and you’d flip me over just like the old days.”

John B almost snorted a laugh, “You’d end up bleeding each time so I don’t think we’re too far off.”

You sat up and listened to the other Pogues goof around, sharing stories of what had happened in your time away with a smile. John B took the spot next to you as he closed the first aid kid with a snap. “I’m glad you’re back,” You whispered as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

John B’s gaze shifted from the box in his hands to Sarah who gave him a loving smile. He returned the gesture before looking down at you. “I’m glad to be back with you.”

[hualian-blessing]

why mcyttwt does not think some (if not most) of the time when it comes to mcc

if i post this in twitter, i’d surely get hated upon but someones gotta have to say this one day. also this does not target to mcytblr!!! this rant is more of towards mcyttwt!!!

remember how mcyt was so chill before all of this shit? how we would watch our favorite minecraters when the community was so small? or how mcc was an event that both ccs and fans can have some fun and entertainment once per month? and that was only last year too. now look at the new generation of mcyt fans and see why some of the old fans dont really associate the new ones.

as a fan of the old gen mcytbers like DanTDM, SkyDoesMinecraft, Aphmau and CaptainSparklez. heck im a fan of pewds’ minecraft series before dream or tommy or ranboo or the new gen of mcyt ccs blew up (a year before them if im correct), and we dont see drama or bad shit all the time when it comes to their content.

now compare that to the new gen where every single fucking day, a bored fan or anti would post shit drama in twitter where some of the people from twitter moved to tumblr just to not get a headache from the batshit craziness mcyttwt brought forth. and it just snapped more when the mccp21 rolled in.

heres some of my takes about the mccp21 issue:

1) “there’s a lack of representation of lgbtq+ in the teams!!!”

heres something to tell yall about that. scott doesnt have a fucking choice. scott smajor has told time and time again, WEEKS before the announcement of teams, that there are certain requirements and limitations to mccp21 thus there will be difficulty in choosing whos entering or whos not. limitations and requirements such as it will be streamed on youtube or how streamers with twitch contracts aren’t allowed to stream or (god bless scott’s good heart) scott not allowing some of the lgbtq+ streamers in joining the special event due to wanting them to have a chance to stream and experience their first mcc (so to those who said that ranboo should have been in mccp21, shut up ‘cuz scott wanted genderman to have fun streaming his first mcc but cant due to ranboo being a well-known twitch streamer). to those who complained that ant and velvet should be in the mcc, stop being selfish and do some actual research on why scott didn’t include them. a simple question to those two’s fans would answer that they can’t make it due to them camping for a week which within those days is the mccp21. they’re having time to themselves, not wasting it on a minecraft championship. 

take in the consideration that, oh i dont know, not a lot of lgbtq+ ccs applied to the event? its not a free invite championship (in fact, mcc has always been like that), it’s an applied with the sufficient and correct requirements kind of event. the artist who created the icons from the previous mcc for the teams said that scott let in some of the new ccs in last minutes due to lack of applicants not meeting the requirements thus not having custom artworks for the teams if they want to announce the teams in time.

2.) “there’s no lesbians or trans in the teams >:(((”

sadly enough, there’s not much of the players from the lgbtq+ community but to say there’s no trans people in mccp21 is utterly false. by definition, trans mean  denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex. other genders such as non-binary, genderfluid, androgyne, bigender, gender expansive all fall under trans. you define yourself with the gender you personally chose and comfy with from you birth gender. so saying there’s no trans in the teams when there are players from the event like eret or sqaishey who are nb and genderfluid respectively are there to also represent not only the sexuality but also the gender identity of others??? like c’mon, please make sense mcyttwt. 

also, while its sad to not see lesbians, please know that lgbtq+ doesn’t strictly be defined by lesbians. ffs, lgbtq+ literally means Lesbians Gays Bisexuals Transgenders and Questioning (or Queer but im not too sure about that one) which means that there are still other representatives for the community in the event.

3) “technoblade is in the event?!!! WHAT THE FUCK, HES A HOMOPHOBE/LESBIPHOBE-”

utter clowns, toxic twitter users are. do you really think that scott smajor, an openly gay man, would let a supposed “homophobe/lesbiphobe” in an event that focuses in supporting the lgbtq+ community? do you hear yourself? do you even do research where the joke he made was when he was the same age as me and it was based on a historical article back in WW2? or how he passionately supports the community especially the lesbians because a lesbian couple complimented him to which kickstart his confidence? the man willingly went to this mcc event despite being flamed a lot in twitter because he (and everyone) knows that his chat, his fans and supporters, are literal millionaires. if you saw a stream from foolish where he auctioned canonical characters for funs, a techno fan donated thousand of dollars to get technoblade, and that’s only one fan, now imagine a hundreds of thousands of them.

like it or not, technoblade has always been open about his support to the community, especially that majority of his fanbase are from the same community that mcyttwt allegedly swore that technoblade hates.

4) “since this mccp21 is pointless because theres no dteam, quackity, punz or (insert cc name), let’s have a watch party of the previous mccs to spite mccp21!!!” “let’s hope (insert cc name) stream on the 26th so mccp21 doesnt have the same amount of viewership like before!!!” “where are (insert cc name)??? gosh, this mcc is so boring without them!!!”

shut up shut up shut up shut up shut the actual fuck up. are you really seriously hearing yourself? are you willing and proudly boycotting a once in a year special event that is seriously needed by the lgbtq+ community? are you that cruel and selfish to sacrifice a project that helped tons of people just for your sick entertainment and desires? are you that evil to stop others from enjoying and donating to the trevor project? are you that inconsiderate of other ccs that aren’t part of dsmp and calling them boring? and for what? because your favorite cishet streamer isn’t there? oh booofuckinghoo! you’re so fucking petty to even post about this kind of tweets in public.

(edit: did yall honestly thought that without your favorite streamers that the mcc is not worth watching because they aren't there? well let me tell you, im a ranboo fan. ive watched him when he first entered the dsmp and watched him spinning in his unicorn chair for 5 minutes. the boo community waited for so many months for genderman to join mcc yet we didn't even do that kind of disgusting action and behavior every time he isn't in mcc. 8 months. that's how long ive watched him. ive waited 8 months for him to be in the event yet i still watch other povs like tommy's, puffy's, wilbur's, and etc., because it's fun and entertaining to watch them despite the beloved not participating in the games.

if you're that spoiled to not even watch mcc because (insert cc whose not part of mccp21 name here) isn't part of the roster then you most likely have a one dimensional humor because there will always be someone more funny and entertaining than them. i like dsmp don't get me wrong, but i found parrot's school smp funnier than dsmp yet you don't see me insulting both series, do you? learn to keep yourself if you're calling ccs as boring or dull or not entertaining enough due to not having the same big platform as the dsmp members.)

you don’t deserve to call yourself a fan if you’re doing this kinds of actions. in fact, people like you should be kicked out from the mcyt community because your kind of people are the reason why we look so bad from the outside. your toxic and self-entitled to these content creators are the reason why famous ccs like sbi, purpled, tubbo and almost ranboo left twitter/implied strict rules to their subtwts. you drove out an entire friend group that tons of fans found comfort in from the platform and you still have the audacity to this kind of shit? honestly, just leave before you give me a headache.

what im sayin’ is that mcyttwt is one of the worst, if not THE worst, subtwts out of the other subtwts in twitter. having no actual research or evidences or spreading false information is common in twitter where you would have to take what they said with a micro size grain of salt. mcyttwt already ruined the fun and spirit of mcc during its comeback in mcc14 due to the glitch and beta testing shit (ey i still stand for the ranboo beta testing but i know that will be worthless since theres hints of him joining soon in mcc15). if you’re still in mcyttwt, i suggest to get out of there while you still can. we’ll never know if there’s a bigger shitstorm than this in the mcyttwt that may happen in the future.

edit! hi bella again, ive been told by a polite and cool user that not all people from mcyttwt are toxic and/or cruel. im going to clear something up here. ive written this during the heat of the announcement of mccp21 teams. so there's a lot of complains and/or entitled people in the app (you can even see it in my previous post too if you want evidences!) that gave off mostly negative vibes towards the event.

ive seen the cool ones who actually took the consideration for scott's side and the criticism of the lack of representation of other communities within the lgbtq+ umbrella (ive even share some parts of it above so im also a bit upset to the lack of numbers in the community). and some of them are correct about recruiting lgbtq+ creators in youtube but! like i said, it's an applied event and not invitational one, so its up to that content creator if they want to join or not. the amount of cishet in the roster are just those who want to support the cause and/or backups/stand-ins in case scott and noxcrew can't find enough ccs in time!

just wanna clear this up because mcyttwt these days are covered by really cringe fans (ive noticed a pattern of them mostly new ones but there are still awesome new fans (like my irl friend who just joined this year) within the community) that covered the good ones where they enjoy, have fun and share some neat ideas and thoughts to the community within the platform!

when i said to get out of the mcyttwt while you still can, i meant to get out of there to avoid drama (that is really small contrast those who really need to address the issue) and take a break from it. it's still your choice if you want to be surround by it or not or if you want to come back to the app. all im saying is to buckle up for the shitstorm cuz this is not the last time that the twitter side of mcyt will cause negativity to the community.

[the-evil-duckling]

And now that Pride Month's over, Let's Talk About Pratchett.

The companies have taken down their flags. The marches and rallies are fading away. Rainbow colours are melting back into grayscale. And now that all the hubbub is dying down, let's talk about an author who did perhaps more than any other to introduce gender-and-sexual minorities to the public (and not just as a cute oddity to be cooed at from a distance, either).

Let's talk about an author whose works are perhaps the most representative, hard-hitting, and wholesome, in all of well-written English literature.

Let's talk about Pratchett.

Before we dive into the lovely little nitty-gritties, I want to just take a quick look at what Pratchett's writing really is, and what makes it so very exceptional. It's pretty simple, really.

He's funny.

That's the "secret" formula to Terry Pratchett's success across the global; he's funny everywhere, everywhen, across multiple generations and multiple decades and multiple geopolitical borders. You don't have to read Discworld with a lot of effort, thinking deeply after every line about the message the author is trying to convey. You don't have to analyze every character and every situation to see how the author is sculpting a crystal-clear mirror and holding it up to the face of Society. When I'm feeling down (cause college and life and pressure and dreams) and wanna start gouging out my forearms with my nails, I can just curl with one of my comfort books (like Men At Arms, or Unseen Academicals) and laugh and chuckle and just feel better. You can just enjoy it.

Now, I think, I can get to the fun stuff; analysing all of my favourite characters and the roles that they represent in mirroring Pratchett's view of People. (I should mention at this point that I am mainly going to be focussing on the Sam Vimes novels, and what I will be writing are my own thoughts and opinions. Anyone who knows more - or has just read/interpreted the books differently - is of course free to add their own musings.)

Fred Colon: Sergeant Colon is that rarest and yet most typical of things: Fred Colon is an ordinary person. He is no hero, or genius, or leader. He is not evil or even mildly malicious. And that is the very point that needs to be understood. People (most people) are not deliberately evil; they are, on the whole, fairly decent people who treat their friends well and try not to make enemies. It is just... petty selfishness, petty prejudices, petty apathy... all summated in every single member of the populace, and suddenly everyone knows that dwarfs are just money-grubbing bastards who'd bite your kneecaps off for a copper coin and trolls are dumber than the rocks they're made off but they'll as soon smash you to pulp as look at you and you can't trust a vampire cause they're too dead to be alive and-

Carrot Ironfoundersson: Captain Carrot is a cliché. Captain Carrot is a cliché wrapped inside a trope hidden in a Mary Sue, all turned on its head. Captain Carrot, rightful heir to the throne of Ankh, leader of all manner of beings, man who once beat Detritus in a fistfight... is not the hero of this story. In any other series, the story would have been of a brave new cop (who is also the king) standing up to the corruption and lawlessness of the Patrician while taking advice from his grizzled old half-drunk commander who dies four chapters into the first book with some vaguely portentous words that the hero remembers at the very last minute to give him the tools/strength/motivation necessary to keep fighting. But this is Pratchett. And the hero of the story, if there is one, is very much the grizzled old commander. Two other points have also always struck me about Carrot. The first is the matter of identity. Biologically, Carrot is very much a human, but in all other ways that matter he is entirely a dwarf - his name is Kzad-bhat, and even the deep-down dwarfs do not question his dwarfishness - and yet that does make him any less a human. In this is reflected the multiplicity of identity (not just of gender, which is what most people immediately jump to, but all identities). The second point is of the relationship between Carrot and Angua, which seemed to me a representation of a healthy dom/sub relationship. Unlike the twisted shit we find on ao3 (and in some published books that I don't feel that I need to name), Angua is at no point portrayed as lesser, weaker, incapable, dependent, or deferent. She is her own person, and the two of them just happen to have this kind of chemistry.

Samuel Vimes: Ahhhh. His Grace, His Excellency, The First Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor Samuel Vimes, Commander of the City Watch. The protagonist, if not quite the hero, of the series. He is not perfect, not even close. He is casually discriminatory (species-ist?) and thoughtless in most of what he says. his saving graces are that his discrimination is universally applied at all beings living and dead, and that he has never, not even once, allowed his personal feelings of prejudice stand in the way of justice (which is at times, all that separates him from Fred Colon). Does that mean that it's all okay, and everything is now fine and dandy and hunky-dory? No. Not even fucking close. Words matter and actions matter and even how you feel deep inside - all of it matters. Prejudice is prejudice, and it is always wrong. there are no mitigating circumstances, no 'yes, but...' that can make it acceptable. But only an idealistic idiot would say that it is not better than the alternative. And this is the reason that Vimes is one of my favourite protagonists; he is not a hero. He is real.

Leonard of Quirm: A parody of the public perception of a genius (perhaps of Roundworld's Tesla and da Vinci), I have loved Leonard as a character ever since I realised he was gay. Allow me to elaborate. As I was recently re-reading Jingo, I noticed a line that went something like 'He started drawing how The-Going-Under-The-water-Safely-Device could be improved, piloted by a muscular man who was not overdressed'. And just like that, a couple dozen other off-hand comments slotted into place and I realized the homosexual truth. And I love this portrayal of homosexuality, because most books or movies or tv shows or fanfictions with a gay MC (or even sidekick) tend to have a storyline roughly equivalent to 'hey my name is [insert name here] and I'm GAY and I have a destiny to save the world and my family and my GAY boyfriend whom I'm dating cause I'm GAY and before I go outside I have to pick my outfit really carefully better go with salmon-rose-flutter pink cause I'm GAY and now I'm outside and I'm not very popular and this is my tragic backstory cause a lot of people don't like me cause I'm GAY and-' Yeah. This is not good writing. By barely mentioning anything, Pratchett somehow still managed to emphasise that a) homosexuality is one of your identities, not all of them and b) just because a story has a character who is gay doesn't mean that the story becomes about a character being gay.

Trev Likely: One sentence. Just one sentence. 'Hating people was too much work.'

If you actually made it this far, you are obliged to reblog. I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules. (Please?)

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia

[cuttinqlines]

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

                             IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

(richard ramirez [ahs 1984] x reader | mainly implied xavier plympton x reader)

trigger warning; drug use, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse, toxic characters, xavier is portrayed as a major piece of shit for the first few installments, glorification of a serial killer, knives, etc.

disclaimer: i do not support the real richard ramirez in any way, shape, or form. this is simply based on the fictional version from ahs 1984. no disrespect is intended in any way. please, feel free to click off of the fic if you don’t enjoy this type of content. any hate will be ignored.

word count: 2,467

a/n: sorry this took so long. im a depressed piece of shit lmao. 

taglist: @kuollut-talven @felicityofbakerstreet @bitchcraft1398 

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IT HAD ONLY been a few days since your run-in with the self-proclaimed ‘Night Stalker’ yet it felt like years had passed. The memory of the event was constantly running through your mind, seeming to occupy your every thought. It was as if your mind was filled only with visions of dark hair and piercing dark eyes. It had gotten to the point where it was consuming you, distracting you from anything that wasn’t the thought of him. It was impossible to focus. You weren’t exactly sure that you wanted to. The part of you that desperately longed for the dark stranger to reappear and tear you away from your dilapidating life was overtaking you. You had almost wished that you would have given in to his demands that night. Almost. Something had been holding you back that night and something- someone- was still holding you back, tethering you to the place you had grown to despise.

Letting out a sigh, you stared at yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to shake away the thoughts that continuously plagued you. The ghost of a bruise still showed underneath your eye, barely noticeable with the makeup that you had delicately applied over it. You looked better than you had in the days before, but you still weren’t keen on leaving the confines of the four walls of your bedroom, let alone your apartment. You hadn’t left the house since that night. You were sure everyone thought that you were spiraling- He had probably twisted the story into that narrative. You turned away from the mirror, leaning against the base of the sink. It was time to face the situation at hand. You could already feel the silent judgment of Montana. She had told you so.  “Fuck.”

It shouldn’t have mattered that much to you- what everyone thought. It’s not like they had too much room to judge. They were your friends, sort of, but they didn’t rule you. They weren’t the end all be all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of facing them. It had been days of voicemails, knocks on the door, and missed phone calls. You had gone ghost. They wouldn’t have expected anything else, though. It wasn’t unlike you to disappear. You were used to disappointing everyone. 

After a few more minutes of anxiety and deliberation, you laid out a pretty white line, snorted it down, and got ready to head out the door. At the very least, you could show up to aerobics and casually run into everyone. By the time you got there, you were sure you could figure out how to gloss over all of the problems that kept on appearing. 

****

The Aerobics studio hadn’t changed much in your week of absence. The faces of the instructors were still plastered on the walls, yours still included much to your surprise. The chairs strategically placed throughout the lobby were occupied by young adults, laughing at something one of them had said. The ambiance was peaceful and you suddenly wished that you would have shown up for work in the last week. The thought quickly diminished as you thought back to the bruise that had been occupying your face. There was no way you would have shown up with that. You wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Stepping up to the front desk, you leaned against the counter lazily. 

“Hi. Do you have any classes with vacant spaces open for today, Janice?” You asked the receptionist a bit awkwardly, looking at the wall behind her as you spoke.

The woman looked up, purposefully making direct eye contact. She looked you up and down, judgement written all over her face.  “Yes. The instructor position for the class you teach at 6:30, (Y/N). If you want to keep your job, I suggest you get prepared for it and go teach it.” 

You couldn’t help but cringe at her tone. The attitude dripped off of it like poison. Truth be told, you had thought that you had already been fired. That is generally what happens after you drop off of the face of the planet for a week. “Right- I’ll just go ahead and get set up to start, then. Thank you.”

“You’re lucky that you showed up today. You’re really pushing it with your delinquent behavior. Shape up or ship out, sweetheart. This is the last time you’re getting exceptions. You’re really lucky that Montana covered your classes for the week. Now, get moving. It’s 6:20. Studio 3.”

Janice hardly gave you time to react, as she stood up and began to push you towards the direction of the studio. Her cold touch caused an unpleasant shiver to shoot through your spine. Your mind instantly drifted to your unwelcome house guest, though the shiver he gave you was not exactly unpleasant- You mentally scolded yourself for obsessing over the ‘Night Stalker’, before practically bursting into the studio. 

It felt as if a million eyes landed on you from the moment you opened the door. The never-ending stares seemed to burn holes into your skin. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to stare the deepest. Xavier. You flickered your gaze to meet his, the other people in the room disappearing into a sort of tunnel that consumed the sides of your vision. Your heart caught in your chest. You wanted to tear your eyes away, but there was something stopping you. Something about Xavier always seemed to hold you back. His gaze was pleading, an apology seeming to spill out of it. 

 “(Y/N)! I thought you were going to be out for a while! Xavier said that you were like super sick or something.” Montana’s voice rang out, casually. “So happy you’re here though. Teaching this class has been such a drag.”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, your head instinctively jerked towards it. You plastered a pained smile onto your face. “Yeah- thanks for covering for me, Montana. I seriously owe you one. Being sick was a major drag. Probably worse than teaching this class of Cyndi Lauper obsessed boys.” 

The blonde let out a laugh. “Well, since you’re back, I’ll let you take this one. And maybe take your man out when you’re done. He’s been such a buzzkill lately.” 

Montana gave you a wink, patting your shoulder affectionately. With a final wave to you and Xavier, she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall with a flash of blonde hair. Not wanting to waste any more time, or give Xavier the chance to talk to you, you flicked the boom box on and let the sound of Billy Idol’s voice fill the room. 

****

The entirety of the class went by uneventfully. Billy Idol’s soothing tone seemed to temporarily soother your anxiety, making it easier for you to ignore the pained glances that were becoming more and more inescapable. You left the music on as the class drew to a close, turning the volume down to a soft, but audible hum. You didn’t bother to look as everyone made their way to the door. Instead, you moved towards the front of the room, letting yourself face the large windows that looked out towards the city. 

You watched as people leaving the last few classes of the evening walked down the sidewalk, off into the night. Some faces were familiar, regulars that always seemed to be in aerobics class. Other faces, unfamiliar and new. They all seemed so happy, as if their lives were perfect. You wished that you could get a taste of that feeling. You continued to admire the citizens of Los Angeles, lost in your thoughts. Then, in a sudden flash, there was a single face that stuck out in the crowd. Unmistakable dark hair and piercing eyes that could have belonged only to the face that you could never forget. You locked eyes with the man, causing a sinister smile to appear on his face. He moved closer to the building. Your heart skipped a beat. He was headed towards the door. Your eyes were still locked with his, nothing could-

“(Y/N)... Can we talk about what happened the other night? Please… I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Xavier’s voice hit your ears, soft and pleading. 

You broke away from the ‘Night Stalker’s’ gaze, slowly turning to face the man that you had once felt so strongly for. You leaned against the windows behind you, pressing your nearly bare back against the cool glass. Xavier took a few steps closer, leaving only a few inches between your faces. You couldn’t help but flinch as he reached out to tenderly touch your face. Hurt flashed across his face briefly, but his hand still gently came into contact with your soft skin. You let your eyes flutter closed and sucked in a sharp breath. “I- I can’t do this,” you whispered, hot tears pricking in the inner corner of your eyes. So many different emotions were running through your body. The urge to run away from him had never been so heightened. 

He grazed his thumb gingerly across your jawline, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Please. I just wanted it so badly and I thought that was the only way. And I didn’t want anyone to find out. The way you looked at me when you did- I lost it. I thought you would tell everyone. I thought you would leave me. I’m so sorry.” 

You had yet to respond to him when a cutting voice interrupted the scene unfolding before you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The deep voice questioned, sinister laughter etched into his tone. 

“N-?” You began, eyes flickering open. You met the dark haired man’s eyes, looking directly past Xavier. He was already staring at you intensely, the usual smirk plastered on his face. 

“Richard.” He corrected, moving his eyes from you to the other man in your company. Xavier had moved away from you by this point, looking at Richard with a suspicious glare. Richard simply continued to smirk at him, looking more and more devilish as time passed. “My little angel, didn’t expect to see you so soon. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Okay. Who the fuck are you?” Xavier demanded, his hand wrapping around your forearm in a protective manner. You instinctively recoiled to his touch. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, watching as the two began to go back and forth. 

“I’m the devil’s favorite prodigy. It’s more like ‘who the fuck are you?’” The other man taunted. His eyes locked on the contact point of yours and Xavier’s skin. An unreadable emotion flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with his usual infuriating smirk. “I’ve decided I’m here to collect her. Truth be told, it wasn’t originally in my master and I’s plan, but it seems like I stumbled in at the perfect time, with you harassing my girl.”

“Your-? (Y/N), are you fucking this guy? We get into one fight and you’re off giving it out to this creep?” The blonde questioned, his tone demanding and incredulous. His voice rose with every word that he spoke. He was red in the face by this point. You could tell by the clench in his jaw and the way his hand tightened around you that he was angry. The smug expression of Richard definitely wasn’t helping his reaction either.

You tried to ignore the fear that had begun to creep into the back of your mind, your mind flashing back to his closed fist accidentally ramming into your face. You looked up at him with your tear stained face. Words were failing you. You didn’t exactly want to say that Richard had broken into your house, pinned you against a wall, and sparked something inside of you that made you feel so many fucked up things. Was it really more fucked up than what you felt about Xavier after everything that he had done? You weren’t so sure any more. Xavier seemed to take your silence and lack of denial as a ‘yes’ to his questions. Disgust took over his face, his hand tossing your arm away as if it had suddenly turned into some sort of cursed object. 

He scoffed at you, shoving you away from his body. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Maybe you deserved that.” He spat out venomously, angrily gesturing to the hardly hidden  bruise underneath your eye. 

You flinched as his hand raised. Something seemed to click into place for the dark haired man as he watched the two of you, your reaction triggering the darkest part of him. You hardly had time to react further, before Richard was in front of you. His left arm pressed back against your body, gently shoving you behind him. His right hand was adorned with his blade, ready to slash at the man before him. “You did that to her? For your sake, I hope you say no. I’d hate to have to kill you right here. It would really throw a wrench into the master’s plans and we both hate that.”

Your hand reached out slowly, tugging on the edge of this sleeve, beckoning his eyes to meet your eyes. He complied, looking over his shoulder quickly. You shook your head at him, a silent plea for him to drop it. He was already acting psychotic enough to have the police called on him and you were sure that would be the last thing that he wanted. He looked back to Xavier, who was staring at him incredulously. “Get the fuck out of here or die,” The dark haired man spat out.

Xavier gave you a pointed look, before shoving past the both of you and storming out of the studio. You knew he would show up at your apartment later, demanding explanations for the psychotic interaction that just went down. You would figure out a way to avoid that later. For now, your full attention was on Richard. He turned towards you, dark eyes studying the every feature on your face. His hand hovered over the side of your neck, before gently pushing your hair to the side. His fingers softly trailed down the side of your throat, traveling down your chest. Like a phantom, they grazed the length of your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You softly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes staring straight into his. “You’re mine now, little angel. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But you have to be mine forever- That’s the catch. Will you sell your soul to the devil?”

“I will.”