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Drabble: Work! (Supermodel)

Title: Trophy Wife Drabble: Work! (Supermodel)

AN: I am on a drabble roll lmao. Or should I say I’m on a fluffy baby roll? And ODG this actually went to places that I am slightly (ok more than slightly) not prepared for. Blame my muse. Blame Minah omg that baby girl… WHY ARE MY MUSES LIKE THIS!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!? //WEEPS//









The set of the photo shoot is silent, every eye on the stunning brunette who has just walked in, designer sunglasses perched on his nose, hair coiffed to perfection, long legs encased in dark stovepipe jeans, a partially zipped leather jacket over a flowing shirt. The shirt is long, skimming the tops of his thighs, flaring out slightly as he walks. Or stalks. The man is every inch the acclaimed international supermodel, sought after by every high end fashion magazine, not just for his looks and his bearing, but also his name. He is dressed in monochrome black and grey, the only splash of colour being a deep purple scarf around his neck.

However, that is not the only reason why all eyes are on him for the man has arrived with a couple of unexpected accessories. In each arm, lies a toddler, each barely a year old but taking after their parents indeed with their long slim limbs. Size-wise, the two little girls could probably pass off as two, but in reality, they are only thirteen months old. Both are dressed in matching green and white jumpsuits, warm on the mild winter’s day. One has her face buried against the grey scarf, sound asleep and the other has her nose against the supermodel’s shoulder, just her eyes showing, looking around curiously at her surroundings. If you could see the man’s eyes, you would know exactly to whom she belongs.

The man strides up to the fashion director and principal photographer, currently squatting on their haunches on the floor and looking over some background shots, stopping just shy of bulldozing them over completely. His eyes are hidden but a perfectly tweezed eyebrow can be seen arched just over the frame of his sunglasses. The two men on the ground have to lean back and tilt their necks up at a painful angle to look at the man gazing almost contemptuously down at them. They simply wait, knowing it is best to see what the enigmatic and extremely illusive supermodel has to say. Getting him to agree to this photo shoot in the first place is a coup for the magazine, and they do not want to jeopardize it by a stray foolish word. Linda Evangelista’s famous “We don’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day” is nothing compared to the commercial value of this supermodel. And with that value, comes the perceived arrogance.

But in reality, unlike his equally famous and sought after best friend, despite his extremely haughty countenance, this particular supermodel is easy to work with. He makes no demands, and complies easily with instructions. He is a little mouthy, but only when he believes he is right which in actual fact, is pretty often. But he has just one hard and fast rule.

His family comes first.

He has been known to cancel appearances based on ear infections, teething fevers, colic and even the momentous occasion of “first steps”. Every single contract he signs has a disclaimer that allows him to cancel at his whim, and in the industry, this is completely unheard of. For a supermodel to dictate terms such as these that can potentially cause thousands of dollars in lost time and location fees, not to mention all the staffing involved is simply not done. Not done that is unless you are this particular supermodel.

Jung Changmin.

The man staring down his long nose at the silent men at his literal feet has to suppress the urge to chuckle. His reputation is useful at times like these. The Parks have only recently gotten back from their weekend in Japan and appear to have brought the plague back with them, and thus, Changmin’s babysitter has fallen through. While he sympathises with his best friend’s plight, he is not about to subject his precious baby girls to whatever ails the four Park members. Thinking about the newest addition to Jaejoong’s family makes him wince inwardly in sympathy. He is definitely avoiding their home for the next week, best friend or not.

“My husband, Jung Yunho, will be arriving in a few hours, but until then my daughters will be on set with me. Is this going to be a problem?”

Both men shake their heads mutely, fully aware as to the reminder that has just been given to them. This is no mere supermodel. This is the beloved wife of Jung Yunho, and absolutely no one in their right man would dare to cross him.

The girl in white, sound asleep earlier, is jarred awake by Changmin’s voice, and she mewls in protest. The jaws of every staff member in the room drop at the unprecedented sight before them as the supermodel’s stiff countenance softens in a heartbeat, as he whispers soothingly to the baby girl, nuzzling and kissing her cheek. The girl in green reaches out and plucks the sunglasses from Changmin’s face, and everyone holds their breath because the supermodel and his sunglasses are not to be trifled with. He hates anyone touching them.

“Yoona, what did I say?”

The girl in green, Yoona, draws back, staring at Changmin’s face, her expression is almost defiant as she pops the arm of his sunglasses into her mouth and starts chewing.

The set is dead silent, waiting.

That pregnant silence is broken by a low chuckle, and it is as if the whole room exhales as one in relief.

“Little brat.”

Yoona simply smiles a gummy smile around the expensive pair of Tom Ford sunglasses she has appropriated as a teething ring, completely nonplussed at her chiding parent.

Changmin turns, taking in the eyes on him, and he immediately stiffens, resuming his earlier haughty stance, but yet again he is foiled by the little girl in white.

“Mama, milk.”

Her voice is clear, and it carries. Her pronunciation is not perfect, milk sounding more like it rhymes with yolk rather than silk. However, it is her actions that raise eyebrows and causes Changmin to finally, uncharacteristically, flush a deep red, because as the baby girl completes her demand, she starts tugging at the V of his jacket, a hand tugging it open as far as she can, her other hand pushing the scarf out of her way as she tries to slip her face into the gap.

“Minah…”

Upon hearing her name, she pulls her face out, beautiful cupid bow mouth in a pretty pout, a tiny furrow in her forehead as she stares at the blushing supermodel who does not have the security of his sunglasses anymore thanks to her twin sister. Of course she has no idea what the problem is, only wanting to be fed and so she tries again, her voice louder and insistent even as she tugs at his clothes once again.

“Milk!”

Her shrill demand propels Changmin into action, striding towards the make up area where there are chairs set out. He does not look at anyone as he walks, eyes trained on the chair he is making a beeline for. He does not care who is in his way. He simply walks, expecting them to get out of the way, and get out of the way they do. Most are smiling now, amused and feeling a little sympathetic towards the young supermodel who is looking a little wild about the eyes.

He sits in the chair, his back to everyone, staring at himself in the mirror. Two identical baby girls, so identical that their own father has trouble telling them apart, hence the different coloured clothes, are in his arms. They have his eyes and cheekbones, but their nose and mouth are their father’s. But the eyes are bad enough, both little girls taking after him in temperament. The intelligence is there, and so is the brattiness. He smiles ruefully to himself as he rearranges both girls in his lap so they are seated astride each thigh. Yoona is still chewing on his sunglasses, while Minah is pawing at his scarf.

Changmin pulls off the scarf, tossing the folded up length over one shoulder as he moves to fully unzip his jacket. Once unzipped, he unbuttons the first four buttons on his shirt, and at the sight of his tanned skin, Minah dives headlong into the opening, snuffling around till she finds what she is looking for, latching on greedily. Changmin doesn’t bat an eyelid, taking the scarf from his shoulder and rearranging it around his neck, looping it so it protects his baby girl from view as she feeds.

He looks up and into the soft brown eyes of the toddler on his other knee, still chewing almost thoughtfully on his sunglasses, her head cocked, staring at him as if saying, Come on, Mama, you brought us to work. What did you expect?.

Jung Changmin, brought down by his own children.












AN1: I had to do this. All the children. All the fluff. All the damn Trophy Wife stuff people keep linking and showing me on Twitter/Tumblr… I totally cheated with their names lol. I remember how I always have Yunho go “Min-ah…” and I think it’s pretty and since we have Minah, we had to have Yoona lol and their names were born.

AN2: I am dying though… imagine Changmin… imagine… OTL… don’t ask me why I did this because I have no explanation. NONE WHATSOEVER. I am probably going to lose even my HoMin readers for this, but I needed something to soften the prickly cactus that is our Shim Changmin. I’m not even kidding when I blame Minah for this because I can see the whole thing play out in my head thanks to her. Sorry everyone… I want to cry. Not kidding with the crying.

AN3: AND PLEASE, HE DOES NOT HAVE MOOBS!!! It just works. It’s AU ok and mpreg… leave it at that //cries//














Tags: drabble, pairing:homin, series:the trophy wife
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