#Informed Camera Selection

[apexinnovative]

POE Wired Security Camera vs. WiFi Security Camera: A Visual Comparison for Your Surveillance Needs

In the fast-paced world of home and business security, selecting the right surveillance camera system is crucial. Two popular options available are Power over Ethernet (PoE) wired security cameras and WiFi security cameras. Each has its unique features and advantages. In this article, we’ll visually explore the differences between PoE wired security cameras and WiFi security cameras to help you…

[mallahanmoxie]

i know this guy didn't mean to craft such a personally devastating assignment he might even have thought we'd be thrilled to get a little history in our film class but i cannot tell you the way it has destroyed me to open up the teams assignment page to read i have to hand in a little video TIMELINE (a true nightmare for the historian*) of EARLY FILM HISTORY (the thesis topic i've been chewing on for a decade and which i am abandoning as we speak!) the one week i have no time to put in real effort for it.

[residentwordsofaffirmationdealer]

tracking barbara gordon's skillset as oracle:

she provides directory assistance for several international and intergalactic teams of superheroes (the birds of prey, justice league of america, the outsiders, and she has worked with the titans before).

she is the primary hacker and information network source for many of these heroes.

she helps provide mercy ops (disaster relief and humanitarian efforts) globally.

she is able to hack into the white house cameras.

she hacks into the united states air force routinely to use their memory capabilities.

she is seen as a pentagon level threat.

she writes her own code for scanning new satellite images for human habitations and anomalies.

she's accessed air force rockets no one is supposed to know about and overridden them to fire them.

she has a team of drones ready for surveillance.

she's put her own security systems on arkham asylum.

she hacks into information databases from federal complexes and assembles blueprints and guard schedules so she can send her agents to break into them.

she sets a government complex on fire (she says it is a small and contained fire.)

she also sets the clock tower on fire to force batman to not do murder/suicide.

she hacks into cia debriefing transcripts to obtain information.

she controls a large portion of the world's internet and power grids.

she also is the reason why many world leaders are in power.

she has access to the bank accounts of several supervillains, whom she toys with (specifically for blockbuster, she regularly steals millions of dollars from his accounts in a way that he cannot track who is stealing it and where it is going -- she's stolen 3 million, 17 million, 6 million, twenty million and also a hundred million from him).

she can also hack alien drones.

she can control traffic.

she has several booby-traps in the clock tower for potential assaulters. she also a device to monitor movement of people around it, in case batman decides to show up.

cited panels down below!

"she's the four-one-one for the jla, she the database for the g.c. ex-p.d. she runs mercy ops around the world." nightwing (1996) #38

"you have cameras in the white house?" "don't be silly. the white house has cameras in the white house. i've just tapped into them." nightwing (1996) #66

"i mean, someone hacks into our system and routinely uses our [united states air force] memory capabilities!" "i know!" "often." birds of prey #1 (1999)

"i run a database and search engine for a select few free-land crimefighters." birds of prey: manhunt (1996)

"we scan the most recent images for anomalies. things that don't belong." "where'd you get a program for that?" "i wrote my own code for that one." birds of prey (1999) #3

"they've accessed whitehorse, sir." "whitehorse? no one's supposed to know about that!" birds of prey (1999) #9

"and oracle? we're going to need eyes on several places at once." "i think we can manage that." detective comics (1937) #1077

"they've accessed whitehorse. what's the chance of them arming it?" "all clear?" "oh yeah." "fire!" birds of prey (1999) #9

"[arkham's] security is good, but piecemeal. i installed my own system there after the last breakout." infinite crisis special: villains united (2006)

"batgirl -- that incident a couple months back? when those government agents caught your face on tape? i found out where they're keeping it. it's a federal complex in virginia. i've sent you blueprints, guard schedules -- everything you'll need to break in." batgirl (2000) #17

"where did you get that kind of information?" "they traded another prisoner last month. i hacked into his cia debriefing transcript." birds of prey (1999) #9

"kat, do you have any idea... any notion at all, of how much of the planet's entire internet i control? how many power grids? how many world leaders owe me their positions?" birds of prey #1 (1999)

"i transferred all the funds in her cayman islands account to another offshore account. if she doesn't get the paintings to me in the next forty-eight hours, that money's going to my favorite charities." birds of prey: catwoman/oracle (2003)

"where do you get current [satellite] shots of rheelasia?" "that's my secret, you little netnik." birds of prey (1999) #3

"but the asborbascons were created using languages long dead even on my planet. they are uncrackable." "yes. the absorbascons are uncrackable. but the alien drones aren't." convergence: nightwing/oracle (2015)

"do you have that kind of cash?" "no. but i know someone who does." "there's been a... discrepancy, mr. desmond." "in plain english, mr. vogel." "at one point, three million was electronically transferred from your numbered accounts in the caicos to a bank account in hasaragua. from there to karocco, then yemen, then split between banks in senegal and manila. and then... my hardware couldn't keep up." birds of prey (1999) #3

"seventeen million from your account in the caymans. six from santa prisca. twenty from rheelasia. and a hundred million plus from other holdings of yours around the world, mr. desmond. and where it all goes? nobody knows." birds of prey (1999) #18

"they're taking your cash from impregnable accounts and transferring it electronically to their own." "and you can't find the source?" "there's subsequent transfers performed at lightning speed. the money's split up, rerouted in and out of various banks in an eyeblink. even i can't keep up with whoever this is." birds of prey (1999) #18

"let me handle the traffic." birds of prey (1999) #58

"all of you. keep your hands where i can see 'em." "not a problem. malory. ripken. peppermint." nightwing (1996) #39

[retrowitchy]

katniss & peeta vs haymitch watching the 50th quell replay, 25 years apart (a textual comparison)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The recap opens on the reading of the card, which I watched from home with Ma and Sid in the spring. A little girl all dressed in white, the picture of innocence, lifts the lid on a wooden box filled with envelopes. They widen the shot to include President Snow, who intones, "And now, to honor our second Quarter Quell, we respect the wishes of those who risked all to bring peace to our great nation." He leans over and carefully selects the envelope marked with a 50 and reads the card inside. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes to the Hunger Games. Two female and two male. In this doubling of reparations, we remember that true strength lies not in numbers, but in righteousness,"" (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes," (CF, pg. 221)

sunrise on the reaping:

" "Maysilee Donner!" There's Maysilee, Merrilee, and Asterid clutching one another in the crowd. One of the tearful good-byes captured by Plutarch." (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"...and then I hear the name "Maysilee Donner". "Oh!" I say. "She was my mother's friend." The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls. All blond. All definitely merchants' kids. "I think that's your mother hugging her," says Peeta quietly.

And he's right. As Maysilee Donner bravely disengages herself and heads for the stage, I catch a glimpse of my mother at my age, and no one has exaggerated her beauty. Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee. But a lot like someone else I know, too. "Madge," I say.

“That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something,” Peeta says. “My dad mentioned it once.”" (CF, pg. 221 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"Incitatus Loomy could not have masterminded a finer parade. The frantic backstage prep never makes an appearance, just a amjestic, orderly rollout of the tributes. There's a final aerial shot of all twelve chariots cruising along the route in perfect sync, which ends about fifteen seconds before that blue firecracker exploded, sending the whole event into chaos. This is all the country saw anyway. You had to be there in person to know about the crrashing chariots and me holding Snow accountable for Louella's death." (SOTR, pg. 341)

catching fire:

"The chariot rides — in which the District 12 kids are dressed in awful coal miners' outfits — and the interviews flash by." (CF, pg. 222)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Lou Lou's reduced to a girl wearing live-reptile fashion, Maysilee's and Wyatt's memorable turns are entirely ignored, and I get one snarky exchange with Caesar:

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?"

"I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience laughs, and I give them this grin that confirms me as a stuck-up, selfish jerk. No mention of my support of the Newcomers. No silly interplay about making booze for Peacekeepers. The rascal's just a jackass." (SOTR pg. 342)

catching fire:

"There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different. 

“So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar.

Haymitch shrugs.

“I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.” The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile.

Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent. “He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?” I say." (CF, pg. 223)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The jackass, meaning me, grabs his gear and hightails it out of there and then we get to watch the bloodbath, where eighteen kids are killed in excruciating detail." (SOTR, pg. 342)

catching fire:

"The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Haymitch, though. He's at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates. Eighteen tributes are killed in the bloodbath that first day." (CF, pg. 224)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Up until this point, I think the recap's been a fair record of what occurred in the arena. However, on Day 2, things start to go wonky. At some point, Maysilee, on her own, kills the boy from District 1, Loupe, which I believe to be true because she told me this. There are a lot of tributes still recovering from the poison and the Career pack's hunting Newcomers. That, too, seems likely. But the recount of what happened in the woods, my tale, begins to deviate almost immediately. Timelines are twisted. Connections misleading. It's less flat-out lying than lying by ommission. For instance, I see myself fighting squirrels, although they weren't around until the third day when I fought them to save Ampert. But we haven't even met up yet, so I seem to be trying to save my own life. They show Lous Lou gasping in the flowers, only I'm nowhere in sight. Later, I'm just running from the butterflies without even a glimpse of my feeling with her body, hiding in the willows, and bringing on the shockers as punishment." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place—the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly—is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes scouring the mountain area for victims. Haymitch has his own troubles over in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But he persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back. Maysilee Donner turns out to be pretty resourceful herself, for a girl who leaves the Cornucopia with only a small backpack." (CF, pg. 224 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"In fact, our picnic, the campout, the bombing of the tank, my rampage, and the arena going haywire- not a bit of that appears. The horrors of the volcano take center stage. The tributes experience the flame-shooting eruption, asphyxiation by the ash cloud, burns from the chemical lava. Twelve die." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining thirteen tributes — including Haymitch and Maysilee — have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"With the tank plot erased, my whole agenda seems to have been about getting to the end of the arena, which was, I guess, my cover story. It rains, but they've concealed all the bombing's damage. The arena's as perfect as ever. I get trapped in the hedge, follow the gray rabbit to freedom, and run into Panache and company." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Haymitch seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces him to circle back into the center of the woods, where he encounters three of the Careers and pulls his knife." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

""We'd live longer with two of us." Oh, Maysilee. I am mortified to be sitting here." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"“We'd live longer with two of us.” “Guess you just proved that,” says Haymitch, rubbing his neck." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Is it Day 4 or 5? Maysilee and my attempts to carve our way through the hedge have merged into one big sequence that involves the ladybugs and blowtorch. We're on the cliff that looks down on the treacherous rocks, but they steer clear of the generator. They've edited out the cannon announcing Maritte's death and with it the part where Maysilee says she's just going back for the potatoes, so it looks like we've really decided to split up." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"When they finally do make it through that impossible hedge, using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers' packs, they find themselves on flat, dry earth that leads to a cliff. Far below, you can see jagged rocks. 

“That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back,” says Maysilee. 

“No, I'm staying here,” he says.

“All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway,” she says. “I don't want it to come down to you and me.” 

“Okay,” he agrees. That's all. He doesn't offer to shake her hand or even look at her. And she walks away." (CF, pg. 226)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The pink birds attack Maysilee and she screams. For the first time, I look like I might be redeemable because I run to her aid. Oh, no. They haven't turned this into a redemption story, have they? Selfish rascal learns to care about others? Please tell me no." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies, and all I can think of is Rue and how I was too late to save her, too. " (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"I appear to have finally remembered that I belong to a wider alliance so I'm going to the rescue, when the cannon sounds and I come upon Silka, Wellie's head in hand. Smash cut to the golden squirrels stripping Maritte to the bone. No matter that she's been long dead by this time." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"Later that day, another tribute is killed in combat and a third gets eaten by a pack of those fluffy squirrels, leaving Haymitch and a girl from District 1 to vie for the crown." (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Silka dies, her cannon fires, and I'm hanging on by a thread. The sunflower bomb, the quartz, the flint striker- there's no record of any of them. All of them gone or tucked away from sight. The hovercraft removes Silka's body. Trumpets declare my victory. A claw closes around me." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory. Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while." (CF, pg. 228)

[slightlovelygirl]

⋆˚࿔ billie is here?; billie x reader

reader’s livestream is joined by Billie and their reaction only confirms the fan theories. 🫀

no warnings. fem!reader. 🫀

wc. 978. 🫀

“Alright,” your eyes flicked across the screen triple checking everything was working. “We are live. Hi guys!” You waved at the already buzzing screen.

It was 15 to midnight and in a spell of boredom you decided to hit the ‘LIVE’ tab on Insta. You knew your fans would gladly keep you company, it was also a way to connect with them in a world of pedestaled celebrities. You liked to interact with the people who caused your fame after all.

Humming while reading the chat, your face is just lightly illuminated by the screen and the dim, warm lamps in your room.

“Hi Sydney, I love you too,” you reply to comments here and there.

“Ask me questions I’m booored.” Dragging out the vowel, you whine at the growing audience.

7k. 10k. 35k. 50k people watching. You select comments to answer.

“WHEN ARE YOU COMING TO TOKYO? I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH!!” You giggle reading the question in the tone it was written. “I love you too! Whenever the next tour is which is… I don’t know.” You grin, leading the viewers on with a side eye to the camera.

“Ummm…” your eyes scan the screen. “Favorite band? I’ve been listening to a lot of Beach House’s stuff lately.”

“Who am I dating?” You add a shocked voice and give the camera a disapproving look, much like a scolding mother. “Why do you care so much?”

The chat goes even faster. People arguing about respecting your privacy, others giving their guesses. A certain name seems to appear again and again.

“Billie Eilish?” You read aloud without thinking. Eyes wide you attempt to cover up your slip. “What about Billie Eilish?” Oh. That about Billie Eilish.

The chat speeds up for a moment.

It’s not your fault you’ve been photographed a few too many times together in the past year. Paparazzi always knew how to find you two no matter how private you tried to keep your relationship.

Luckily, Billie and you had historically been best friends. So while no one could actually confirm these were dinner dates, you two could always claim it was a friendly outing.

Of course it never stopped anyone from speculating and forming rumors; rumors that were true.

Your eyes try to focus for more questions but the chat goes by too quick.

“Billie and I are friends..?” You offer the information feigning oblivion to the rumors.

“Okay what else?” But you’re soon interrupted by a text from your publicist.

You should get off the live yn.

Your eyes noticeably flick up at the buzz, smirking slightly at being treated like a child. The chat starts guessing again.

@ ynfan.page45 - Oooooo who is she smiling at?? 👀

“Guys. It’s just my publicist.” You reply without thinking again, talking to the chat like it’s your closest friend.

No wonder your publicist kept a close eye on you.

@ iloveyn - she’s in trouble guys..

“No. No no. She was just reminding me of a meeting I have tomorrow.” You play it off. “Now ask me questions!”

@ yn_fav_fan - how close are you with Billie?

“How close am I with Billie? We’re friends you freaks.” You huff and roll your eyes playfully.

@ ynstan4lifeee - where’s your necklace from? it’s so cute and I love you.”

“I love you too. Umm…” You grab the necklace and look down at it, trying to remember.

It was a gift from Billie. For your birthday she gave you a necklace you had briefly admired in a store one day during an outing of yours’.

“It was a birthday gift, from a friend. It’s Van Cleef, one of my favorite jewelry houses.”

@ no.1editzz - She’s casually wearing a gifted 10 motif💀

@ paparazzi_foryn - wow they must love you a lot. but not as much as i do❤️❤️

You sheepishly smile at the chat. You had never thought of how ridiculous it was Billie had gifted you a several thousand dollar necklace. One you did wear constantly and cherished, but thousands of dollars nonetheless.

@ yn.is.bae - isn’t it past your bedtime?

“It is not past my bedtime. My mom didn’t give me one,” you grin.

@ billieeilish - are you sure girly?

Your eyes go wide for only a moment but it’s caught by the viewers regardless.

@ i.heart.yn - 🚨SHES BLUSHING OVER BILLIE!!🚨

The chat goes insane over Billie’s appearance, but mostly because of your reaction. A subtle look of nervousness makes the viewers speculate even more.

“Billie is here?” You eye the screen. “Billie… Get the fuck out of here…” you hold back a giggle trying to act mad.

@ billieeilish - wow and i thought my favorite girl would want to see me. guess not

The viewers are only being fed now. And you know Billie knows it. For such a private person, her random act of courage takes you by surprise. Not only that but her attitude, flirting with you in public now.

The crowd makes her confident, she gets to be Billie Eilish now. Not just your public best friend and private girlfriend.

@ billieeilish - don’t you have a meeting tomorrow?

You raise an eyebrow. “How long have you been hiding in my live Bills?” Risky nickname.

Your publicist texts you again.

“Okay… you guys are right. It is past my bedtime.”

Glancing at the time in the corner of the screen you see it’s only 12:32.

“Well, this was fun. I love getting to talk to you guys. I love you all so much, take care of yourselves. Goodnight.”

@ billieeilish - sweet dreams princess

And with one final flush of your face you end the live.

Immediately you get another text. This time from Billie.

i hope you’re not actually going to bed

You smile and reply: maybe. maybe not.

well i hope it’s not. call me. i wanna see your pretty face

You take a deep breath. God, you think. My publicist is gonna kill me.

a/n. thought this was cute, hope you liked it, sorry it’s short. i do take requests! 🫀

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tbh I don't know why everyone is so surprised that Riddle didn't pick Trey to be his Vice. I always thought that idea was contradictory to the version of Riddle that we see leading up to his overblot.

[You can see my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 2 update here!]

To quickly explain for those who don’t know: the recent update informed us that Trey was voted by his dormitory peers into the vice dorm leader position. He was not, in fact, hand selected by the newly appointed dorm leader Riddle.

I don’t really blame people for being surprised. Based on the presentation of Riddle and Trey in book 1 and what we knew prior about how vice dorm leaders are picked, the lore we learn in book 7 almost feels like it’s trying to convince us of another narrative historical revisionism, ayo/j. Let me try to explain what I mean.

Firstly, we have to remember that we spent a lot of book 1 with Trey, not with Riddle. We had lunch with Trey, we made a chestnut tart with Trey, we confronted Trey in the library, and we fought OB Riddle with Trey. We also see the camera cutting away to multiple instances of Trey trying to smooth things over with Riddle. And Trey is the one with warmth and fondness for his relationship with Riddle. Because we spend all this time with Trey (who is still attached to Riddle) versus Riddle (who is supposedly distant and detached), we get the impression that the two are closer than they truly are prior to Riddle’s OB. This impression is further strengthened by the presence of Chenya, another friend who paints their shared childhood in a largely positive light.

If you pay attention to how Riddle speaks to Trey throughout book 1 (pre-OB), Riddle does not speak warmly at all. He is usually speaking from the position of a ruler to his second-in-command and much of his dialogue with Trey is him commanding Trey to do X or Y. There’s no reminiscing about old times, no Riddle lording their childhood friendship to guilt Trey into falling in line, no leniency with Trey, nothing that would imply a connection beyond a professional one. Riddle basically treats Trey the same as Cater, his other third year minion at the time—and Riddle isn’t close with Cater at all. The one major exception I would say is right before Riddle OBs, in which he demands if Trey is also betraying him. Again, because we have spent so much time with Trey, we see Riddle from his perspective. We are more likely to view Riddle’s demand as him being hurt that his childhood friend is turning on him versus viewing Riddle’s demand as being hurt that his right-hand man who has been following his orders right up until now refuses to obey.

Really, it feels like less of an issue of fans not picking up on Riddle and Trey being alienated in early book 1 and more of an issue of how book 1 is framed. So much of it is colored by Trey’s (ironically) rose-colored lenses, so we as the viewers who are exposed to it are far more likely to see their friendship as persisting and Riddle having a soft spot for Trey as well. (Riddle is more patient later in the main story too, Granted that book 1 was so long ago, fans may remember the more patient and empathetic post-book 1 Riddle and may judge him based on that metric rather than the book 1 metric.)

Another major aspect as to why people are surprised that Riddle didn’t personally pick Trey as his vice dorm leader is because we literally didn’t know about any other methods to become vice dorm leader??? 😭 Like. I’m pretty sure that the only method we knew of before was to be picked by the dorm leader. I guess people noticed Riddle and Trey were childhood friends and assumed Riddle picked Trey because of familiarity? This is also the case with several other dorm leader/vice dorm leader duos, so this conclusion isn’t based on nothing.

Trey doesn’t strike a lot of us as a particularly… ambitious person?? He often expresses that he doesn’t like getting involved in conflicts or when people cause problems for him, which would be common occurrences for someone in a position of power like the vice dorm leader seat. You’d think Trey would actively want to avoid those responsibilities. Most of us probably didn’t think he would accept the position of vice dorm leader unless the person picking him for it is someone he cares about and/or feels like he has to support—which Riddle is. A ton of his behaviors in book 1 supports this, from doing Riddle’s dirty work and sharing that he harbors guilt over the past + struggles to speak against Riddle because of that.

Book 7 tells us what was technically true of Riddle’s perspective and treatment of Trey early in book 1. We just failed to see it before because of the lack of information and overwhelming bias at the time.

[optiblog]

OPTİVİSER - GOLD

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[bravehyde]

Love your Tenna anatomy posts! If you could, could you explain what kind of circumstance would cause the classic 'bars of bright colors' sort of malfunction in a TV vs a screen full of static?

Of course! The easy answer is that neither of these are malfunctions, although we tend to think of them as such, and instead kind of like the "default" states of television. I'll do their purpose in general and then how we see them with Tenna.

Static (aka digital snow or white noise) is the shortest and easiest to explain. Your television gives this to you because whatever channel you picked doesn't have anything on it, but there is *something* being transmitted anyway that it can't make sense of. After all, not just television uses electromagnetic waves. So since there's no station playing something on the specific signal you tuned to, it's taking random signals from background radiation and trying its best to show it. This won't make a logical picture, though, so we get this random pattern of pixels and electronic noise.

Next, we have SMPTE Color Bars, or...just color bars. We don't need to say that it's the pattern standardized by the Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers every time, after all. This was developed as a form of calibration for analog screens like Tenna, and nowadays is used to calibrate external monitors that we connect to cameras so multiple people can look at what's being recorded (such as the director and producers) without crowding around the camera operator. Every bar is a main color at 100% intensity, ordered in a specific way that makes sense if you go through every way to calibrate a screen and that is a lot to go over which I don't think is needed info, but you want it, looking for SMPTE calibration will get you where you're going. It also plays a really annoying sound that you may know as the censor noise, because you'll KNOW if it's too loud and adjust accordingly.

Also quick fun fact, the "technical difficulties" screen that Tenna flashes by is based on the old, black-and-white version of that. When we say technical difficulties with the color bars now, it's probably because your television is fine, but there's something wrong on the end of the people transmitting. If you're not calibrating the television and the colors pop up, it's an issue with the source signal.

Now, let's look at when this happens with Tenna. I found one major place where he has static, and one major place he has color bars.

In Tenna's final boss fight, he gets the static every time you select a minigame and he's using his own head as a transition to it. You could say that he's initially getting static because he's between channels, since that happens sometimes as little "blips" as you're changing them. It could also be that the signal he's turning to doesn't have anything broadcasted on it until he decides so by teleporting the gang into that area. I'm more of a fan of the latter, since that means that he has direct control over electronic signals, not just the ones he listens to, and that better explains how he transports the gang into the minigames: he transforms them into information that he decodes on his screen.

And of course, we have the prime example of him using the color bars...when he dies. I'd like to note that the stuff coming out of his arms looks a lot like static, although I don't have any reason for saying it other than I think it looks cool. So, this is often used as a modern "technical difficulties" screen, and it can easily just be that. It can also be Tenna trying to recalibrate himself. He realizes there's a problem and is running diagnostics instinctively. Obviously, there is nothing that checking color values can do for losing your arms, so this doesn't do anything to help him.

If he is theoretically both the receiver and transmitter of his own signal, this could also be him showing that he lost his source. Maybe his source signal is whatever keeps him alive as a Darkner, analogous to how we are kept alive by our hearts beating and electric activity in our brains? If he is making his own signal, that can also be how he physically moves the gang to the channel he broadcasts the minigames in, and him experiencing a large amount of pain/damage would be reason to conserve energy and not do it anymore.

[doom-gender]

"Gender: Male"

Gina looked at the settings in her tiktok confusedly. Why did her gender matter to tiktok, and why was it set to Male? Gina had been long into her transition before tiktok had even come out. She pressed on the gender option, getting a prompt to "Change Information" and proceeding.

"Please select preferred video"

The first video was a funny little meme, a girl rolling around in bed in her pajamas, making a funny face and miming some silly lines from The Grinch. It made Gina giggle, funny but not the funniest thing ever, perfectly normal video.

The second video had a loud rap beat behind it, as the girl in the video shook her ass to the beat, bouncing it up and down. Her leggings clung around her thick cheeks and thighs catching every jiggle of the fat ass meat. Gina was mesmerized, her pants getting tighter as her girlcock got hard. It wasnt very big after being on E for so long, but it throbbed desperately all the same for the slutty display that was currently before her. Before Gina could truly understand what was happening, she selected the second video.

"Gender set to: Male"

Jerome quickly unbuckled his pants, his massive cock cramped inside from how hard he's getting.

"Fuck bro, these bitches are so fucking hot."

His hairy cock explodes out of his pants, quickly being dragged off his legs, a hand wrapping around his thick shaft. He flicks through video after video of girls shaking ass, shoving their barely clothed pussies into their phone cameras, jiggling their tits, all while huffing and grunting like a caveman. He barely notices the rest of the room changing like he did, from the pink and pretty aesthetics of Gina to a dingy, dirty unkept space clearly lived in by a man. His muscles bulked out as he tugged his massive cock, hair covering his body, a distinct musky smell filling the room, until eventually a particularly thick black girl sends him over the edge, blasting any remnant of femininity out of his cockhead.

"Gender: Male [LOCKED]"

[formulakracing]

ix. the calm before the storm - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.5k

warnings: no smut for this chapter (surprisingly), cursing, age gap, inappropriate relationships, ANGST, yearning, lots of yearning, power imbalances, toto being down bad, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“mr. wolff, there’s a producer from drive to survive who would like to interview you. are you busy at the moment?” 

natila, toto wolff’s assistant pokes her head behind the door, the team principal stationed at his desk, scrolling through his emails. he mutters something under his breath. it was probably cursing the netflix crew.

“what could they possibly want right now?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

natila shifts on her feet, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. of course he was in poor spirits. however, the assistant quickly learned that he was the worst in the mornings, before he had a few slices of pumpernickel bread. his blue light glasses sat on the edge of nose, his hair a haphazard mess. the top buttons of his team shirt were undone, exposing the plain white tee underneath. 

it was also pretty common for the team principal to be a complete and utter mess the morning of a race. 

of course, natila didn’t mind. it was her job to tend to mr. wolff’s needs. it was her job to coordinate his appearances. his press conferences. each and every event related to mercedes-amg petronas. 

after all, he did own thirty-three percent of the team.

yet, lately, the assistant was noticing that mr. wolff was not as invested in the team. he would disappear. often. for long periods of time. with no explanation of where he was going, when he would return, and what she needed to do in the meantime. 

it was beginning to become very frustrating. 

not that she minded having downtime. 

it was just her job to assist the team principal throughout his daily activities. with him being gone, it was like she had no purpose. 

a few days ago, lewis approached her, asking her about any information regarding mr. wolff’s dating life. of course, natila knew nothing. she was not close to mr. wolff on that level. also, she had learned in her short-time with mercedes that mr. wolff was extremely selective about information. 

calculated, even. 

he was not one to just openly share information in general. even when taking personal calls, he would shut the door to his office, preventing her from eavesdropping. not that she wanted to eavesdrop. well, sort of. 

natila simply wanted to know why the team principal was such a guarded man. 

however, when lewis hamilton offered to a hefty incentive to access some of this information, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse. 

besides, she was nosy.

 when it came to formula one gossip, who wasn’t?

clearing her throat, natila brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “they wanted to interview you about last’s night qualifying. the producer was vague. he just was unsure if you had any time this morning.”

“send them in,” toto waves a hand, exhaling, “i’m sure it is nothing too riveting.”

“of course, mr. wolff,” she nods, a little too quickly, “they’ll be in shortly.”

toto wolff arches a brow as she swings the door, leaving it open just a hair. pursing his lips, he straightens in his chair, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt. 

he was a mess this morning, a little more behind schedule than he would have liked.

but fuck, were you addicting. 

he couldn’t get enough of you. 

so, when you batted those damn lashes and pouted just a little bit, enough to his knees buckling, he couldn’t help but stay the night.

even if it came at a cost.

before he knows it, the door creaks, a producer waltzing in, camera crew in tow. the team principal frowns, slightly dreading this “interview.”

what could be so important that they had to interview him the morning of race day?

as the producer settles into a chair, toto can’t help but notice the shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his eyes almost gleaming, “good morning, mr. wolff.”

“guten morgen,” the response was cool, almost monotone. 

“so as we know,” the producer pulls out a notebook, flipping open to his desired page, “you are on the hunt for a new driver to replace lewis’ empty seat in 2025. with lewis’ departure, there have been numerous speculations regarding the next mercedes driver. we’ve heard whispers of max verstappen leaving red bull, as well as the team’s interest in carlos sainz.”

“that’s why they’re referred to as whispers,” toto grumbles, fiddling with a pen, “is this why you came to bother me?”

the producer chuckles, shaking his head, “no. we just have to set up the scene. build the anticipation, you know?”

“right.” the team principal clicks his tongue, scribbling doodles on the nearest sheet of paper. 

“so,” the producer leans forward, “is there a reason why you were at the motorhome of a certain williams driver? especially with so late in the evening, it was just a bit odd. was it contact talks or is there something more there? the encounter appeared to be extremely friendly, as if the two you have been speaking for some time.”

in that moment, toto wolff’s blood runs cold. an icy, paralyzing sensation takes ahold, sucking the air out of his lungs. 

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

the pen drops out of his grasp, clattering as it hits the desk. 

yet, the shock quickly dissolves to pure, fiery rage. 

how dare these people just come into his office, aware of the significance of race day, to take him by surprise? was this sort of maniacal tactic for ratings? some sort of bullshit for the sake of the show? 

all the team principal could think about in that moment was protecting you. protecting his golden girl from the media firestorm that would ensue if this was aired. 

that was the last thing you needed. 

especially with your dominance on the track. 

his jaw clenches, the team principal gritting his teeth, “cut the cameras. now.”

“so you don’t want to speak on the matter?” the producer raises a brow, “we can just add in that you had no comment and–”

“whatever you saw, whatever little theory you have concerning my personal life, is absolute and utter bullshit. it’s fucking bullshit. i do not know who you saw, or what you even believed you witnessed, but that was not me. it was someone else. now get the fuck out of my office. leave me the fuck alone until you have something substantial to speak on. go bother christian with that frivolous nonsense.”

“we’re just trying to do our jobs, mr. wolff,” the producer sticks out a hand, closing his notebook, “if this is truly something that you fear will diminish your name and likeness, we will scrap the footage. the last thing we need is a cease and desist over a defamation case.”

“i apologize for my outburst,” toto inhales sharply, clasping his hands together, “as you know, i am just very focused on my team. for the moment, maintaining the reputation of mercedes and preserving our future is my only priority. besides, i am a married man. would you really want to stir up affair rumors? what if they are proven to be untrue? who would look like the asshole then, hmm?”

at the mention of creating affair rumors, the producer’s demeanor shifts, his eyes widening, “oh no mr. wolff, we – we wouldn't want that. while we do have a more dramatic flair to our show, we would never intentionally fabricate a storyline that has the potential to break up a man’s family.”

although the words were genuine, toto folds his arms across his chest, a shred of disbelief lingering. 

he had watched the series. he was well aware of the show’s capability to focus on the drama among the teams, stirring up some gossip among the viewers. 

“contact me when the footage has been deleted. wipe it from every single possible interface it could be uploaded on. i just want to ensure my wife and family are protected.”

“of course,” the producer rises to his feet, “of course, mr. wolff. i just want to formally apologize, off camera. we were just trying to get some clarification on what we witnessed last night. since that was not you, we will delete the footage. again, i am so sorry. i know how tense things can be the morning–”

“right.” toto shoots him a blank stare, “if you could please, shut the door on your way out. i need to gather my attention on the race.”

“of course, mr. wolff,” the producer motions to the camera crew to file out of the door, “good luck, today!” 

“thanks.”

once the crew disappears from the room, the door clicking shut, the team principal lets out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands. 

that was close.

too fucking close.

yet, as she watches the film crew meander down the hall, making their way out of the headquarters, natila whips her phone out of her pocket, tapping on the desired contact. 

lewis, i think i may have found out who toto has been seeing. she doesn’t ride horses.

text bubbles appear, the british driver quickly responding. 

really??? who?!

swallowing thickly, natila glances up, ensuring that toto was still present in his office. her fingers tremble, and for just a second, she reconsiders sending that reply. 

yet, she presses send, her heart thumping in her rib-cage as that tiny gray delivered text appears underneath the message. 

you may not have to do a whole lot of searching because she’s in the williams paddock.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“james!” you shout, your voice barely audible through your helmet. all around you, cameras flash, the screams from the fan piercing through the noise. 

“we’re about to blast proud to be an american on repeat tonight!” 

“you can do whatever you want!” james places his hands on either side of your helmet, his shirt soaked from the sprays of water flying through the air, “you just won another fucking grand prix!” 

“i can’t believe it!” your voice falters, tears blurring your vision, “oh my god. i can’t fucking believe it. we did it. we won another one, james.”

“come here,” james brings you in for a damp embrace, “good fucking job. you fucking deserve this.”

pulling away, you choke on a sob as you peel your helmet off, “fuck. i don’t even know what to do with myself right now.”

in your peripheral, a blurry figure comes jogging up, nearly knocking you off your feet as he squishes you against his fire suit, “i’m so proud of you!” 

the tears fall, streaming down your cheeks as alex lets go, lily approaching as well. nudging alex out of the way, you can’t help but notice the pink hue tinging her glossy eyes, “come here!” 

“are you crying?” you manage to let out a laugh as she brings you in. 

“yes!” the word is a squeak, droplets splattering against your shoulder, “you have no idea how happy i am for you.”

“you’re making history,” james’ voice is soft, brimming with pride, “of course we’re emotional. you have no idea how monumental this is. for you, and for our team.” 

“well,” you suck in a breath, in an attempt to compose yourself, “i guess it’s time we head towards the podium.”

with alex, lily, and james surrounding you, the tears threaten to spill over once more as you make your way to the podium. all around, fans cheer, shouting your name over and over. smoke from fireworks linger, that burning scent flooding your nostrils. 

before you know it, a cool, tingling sensation weighs down your hands. glancing down, you take in the polished gleam of the golden trophy, studying it for just a moment. your heart races, the blood roaring in your ears drowning out the noise below. 

you weren’t dreaming. 

this was real. very real. 

pumping your fist in the air, you raise the trophy, the williams racing crew going absolutely nuts, jumping up and down, raising their firsts along with you. 

however, you are able to pick out one individual in that crowd. 

toto. 

as you lock eyes with him, you’re met with that gorgeous, radiant grin. 

he raises a hand, giving you a thumbs up. 

your heart swells at the gesture, and in that moment, there is no one else in that crowd but him.

god, if only you could kiss him right now.

if only. 

ever since you crossed that finish line, that was the only thing you wanted to do. to feel his strong arms sweep you off your feet, peppering your helmet with kisses, words of praise falling from his lips. 

you could only imagine that brassy voice, thick with his accent, showering you with all the words you desperately yearned to hear. 

you didn’t want that. 

you craved that. 

more than anything. 

as the drivers pop open the champagne, lewis hamilton stands next to his team principal, gauging his reactions, his mannerisms, his body language. 

now that he was aware of his team principal’s little secret, it all made sense. perfect sense, actually. 

now that he knew, he couldn’t help but notice the team principal flash a thumbs up to the winner, his gaze fixated on her and only her. he couldn’t help but notice how toto pulled out his phone at the conclusion of the grand prix, his fingers flurrying as he typed away. 

he was definitely congratulating his american girl on her win. 

who else would he have been messaging? especially so soon after the race?

the second lewis was made aware of that little secret, it took every fiber in his being to hold it in. god, the second he saw george this morning, that was the first thought dancing on his tongue, begging to be shared. yet, he couldn’t bring himself to. regardless of his current relationship with toto, he knew better. 

he would have to wait for the perfect opportunity to confront him. 

of course, lewis had to be stealthy. it was a rare feat to blindside a man like toto wolff. 

after the confrontation, the least he could do was tell george. 

after all, george deserved to know. especially if toto was seriously considering singing that american girl to mercedes. 

hell, at this point, the contract could have already been signed. it could have been signed weeks ago and not a single soul at mercedes was aware of the breaking news. 

toto was always one step ahead of the game. more like three or four steps ahead. 

perhaps miami would be that golden opportunity. 

after all, it was your home court. you would be preoccupied with the press for a majority of the weekend. you would be attending events, spending time with your family and friends, as well as meeting with current and future sponsors. 

you’d be a busy girl, and toto would be in shambles, aching for even a single second alone with his american girl. 

so it was settled. 

lewis would confront toto in miami. 

thank god for assistants. natila would be paid in due time. 

and well, lewis would finally get the answers he had been desperately searching for. 

turning his head, lewis looks at his team principal one more time, licking his lips as he catches toto staring once again, the austrian’s gaze bursting with adoration. 

oh, so not only was toto wolff seeing this american girl. 

but he was in love with her too?

oh yeah, toto was fucked. 

big time.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic

if i forgot to add you, or you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters, please let me know! as always, thank you for reading! <3

[doveywovy]

tobiizu au in which izuna decides to try out a new porn video, settles in to watch, and very quickly gets bored.

the performer is his type, the handwaved excuse of a plot is decent, there's no kinks he dislikes and a few he does, so he can't figure out why he can't get down to business. it's bad enough he scrolls to the comments, mostly on his way to scroll down for a new video.

except amongst the multiple "nice cock/just came" comments is a single, perfect gift, just for izuna. user 47water says: your music backing tempo is .5 slower than your hip thrust speed. unprofessional.

izuna's mystery was solved. 47water is now infinitely more interesting then the unprofessional artist continuing to thrust (off-tempo) on his screen.

He clicks through to their profile and discovers 47water is an avid commenter. They have no videos posted of their own, but a history of over 1,500 comments; a majority of them are scathing.

More essentially, they are all correct.

Izuna settles in to scroll, and does not take his hand out of his pants. This is more stimulation then he's gotten from any of the videos he tried to watch, and he's got a good enough imagination to presumably make it work.

Your set design is ridiculous. In what world would an acclaimed doctor decorate his office with generic movie posters? Is the sort of comment a woman with giant tits would write, probably. Maybe while naked.

or perhaps, "The protagonist refuses to accept her as his stepmother but refers to her as Mommy twice before any pathos is achieved. idiotic writing" is the work of a man with a very ample ass and a tasteful tattoo.

Eventually he finds a positive comment (Decent writing. good acting. please improve your music selection), watches it on 47water's implied recommendation, and has an extraordinarily good orgasm as a result.

he writes a reply to 47water informing them and thanking them for the assist and goes to bed. The next day he has a response, with a new video suggestion. They become a frankly bizarre version of penpals, izuna deriving an unexpected joy in getting off to content specifically picked out for him by his anonymous art critic.

at a certain point they start scheduling time to watch the videos "together" (maintaining a private chat on an anonymized platform to discuss it through texts). It's very highbrow, and izuna has never masturbated more often or more successfully.

Eventually, Izuna makes an offhand comment that he could do better than the performer they're watching struggle through a scene. 47water immediately agrees with him.

Izuna clarifies he wouldn't be capable only because he doesn't have the appropriate equipment; 47water links suggestions for quality, inexpensive webcameras. Izuna isn't sure what he'd even do; 47water provides him a general script.

It's a good script. The camera is very affordable.

47water will watch...

Izuna records the video.

[gunilslaugh]

Baby Fever

OT6 ✵ Summary: When they catch baby fever. (non-idol/idol au) WC:~1.5k  Warning:none

❃ Gunil

Suddenly you were instilled with the responsibility of watching your baby nephew. Fortunately it wasn’t too big of an issue since you and Gunil were planning on having an at home date anyway. Still you shot him a quick text informing him about the extra company you two were going to have. 

When Gunil received the text notifying him about the presence your baby nephew would have at your twos’ date he was happy. A smile quickly cracking onto his face. This was going to be the first time that he met your nephew. 

The second you opened the door to your place with your baby nephew in your arms his heart melted. Immediately cooing at the child. 

“Say hi,” you said, picking up your nephew’s arm to wave at Gunil. Your baby nephew chose to be shy and hid his head in your chest. The sight pulled on Gunil’s heartstrings. That’s when thoughts crossed his mind about your own child clinging to you like that. They’re thoughts that he can’t stop thinking about for the rest of the night. Even more so when your nephew decided that he did actually like Gunil, so much that he’s currently taking a nap on his chest. 

“I like sleeping on his chest too,” you say to the sleeping child, gently rubbing its back. 

“Y/n, baby, my love.” Gunil looks at you with the most love filled eyes.

“Yeah?” You look at him suspiciously. 

“I want one.” He looks down at your nephew lovingly. 

❃ Jungsu

“Oh right I almost forgot, do you want to see my new baby niece?” you asked Jungsu, already pulling the photos up on your phone.

“Of course,” Jungsu smiled, leaning in to look at your phone. At first they’re just normal baby photos. Then some of the parents holding their child, but then you slide to the next photo and it’s you holding the baby. Cradling it ever so carefully in your arms. In the first one you're looking at the camera, but in the second you’re peering down at the baby in your arms. It triggers something in Jungsu. His heart becoming mush at the sight. 

“And it was so cute. She grabbed onto my finger and wouldn’t let go.” You found the photo of your niece holding your finger. That photo made it too easy for Jungsu to imagine it was your own child holding onto your finger like that. That was all it took really. Jungsu's mind quickly became overwhelmed with thoughts of starting a family with you and raising your twos’ child together.

“Seeing my niece kinda made me want one too,” you voiced as if you could hear the thoughts that he was having. 

“It sounds nice right. Us having a baby together. One day in the future.” He linked your hands together. Looking at you with the most lovestruck eyes like he’s ready to take on anything with you. 

❃ Jiseok

You and Jisoek were only supposed to be grabbing diapers. Your older sibling asked you to pick some up while you were out. Somehow Jiseok found himself perusing the rest of the baby aisle. Finding the jumper selection quite amusing. 

“Babe this one has dinosaurs on it!” he called excitedly, holding up the jumper for you to see. 

“I was wondering where you wandered off to,” you said, joining him by the jumpers. 

“Aren’t they cute?” He continued to look through the jumpers. 

“Oh my god I’d have to get my kid this one!” He animatedly says, grabbing a jumper that had a microscope on it. That’s the sentence that started it all. The words my kid specifically. Because now he’s looking at the jumper trying to imagine what yours and his child would look like. Then he’s imagining your life with a baby added to the equation. The cute clothes he could buy. The endless amount of diapers you would go through. Sleepless nights spent caring for your child. Images of you two walking down the street with your child in the middle of you two. Holding one of your hands each. 

“Jiseok, where’s your mind going?” You pull him back to reality. He looks back at the jumper in his hand. 

“Our future together. Raising a kid together. Being parents together.” He looks back at you with stars in his eyes. 

❃ Seungmin

Seungmin didn’t think that seeing you take care of a child who fell and scraped their knee could trigger something so desiring inside of him. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that he kept hearing about people in his circle either getting married or having kids. All he knew right now in the moment seeing you carefully place the bandaid on the injured kid's knee with such a gentle look in your eyes was that he wanted to have a child with you. Even more so when he heard the kid telling you about how his mom says kisses make pain go away, so you send a flying kiss to the kid's knee and help them stand up. Watching them as they run off to going back to playing. 

“You would make such a good parent.” Seungmin came up behind you, encasing you in his arms and resting his head over your shoulder. 

“You think so?” You turn your head to look at him. 

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “I think we would make amazing parents one day.” Right now he wants that day to be sooner rather than later, but he should at least try to keep his cool, so he refrains from adding that part. Soon enough you two are back on your way, but Seungmin can’t help imagining you two with another little person in your lives. 

❃ Hyeongjun

“Are you eating baby food?” Hyeongjun feels very perplexed as he looks at the container you’re eating out of. The one that literally says “snacks for babies” on it. 

“I know it looks weird, but they’re so good. These cinnamon apple puffs. Babies have no idea how great they have it,” you told him, taking more from the container. 

“So did you just go out and buy baby food?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I was watching my friend’s nephew earlier and I saw my friend take out a handful while she was getting the snack for her nephew and at first like you I was like ‘Why are you eating baby food?’ Then she offered me some and I understood, so yes I did proceed to buy these on my way back.” Why you telling that story made Hyeongjun think of you getting snacks for your child and taking some for yourself too, he’s not entirely sure. However now that he has the thoughts of you and him having a kid are in his head. He realizes that he likes the idea a lot. More than a lot maybe. 

Now he finds himself looking up baby food recipes which leads to looking at other baby related things. Currently he’s the one standing in front of the baby foods at the store. 

“If you want to try it just get it. I’m not gonna judge,” you tell him. 

“I want to buy it for our kid,” he said, causing you to stop in your tracks. 

“But we don’t have one,” you say. 

“I know, but I want one.” He looks at you with a look of love and seriousness.

❃ Jooyeon

It started with a video. One funny baby video. That one funny baby video somehow turned into his entire feed becoming baby related videos. It was like babies took over his entire brain.

“Jooyeon what’s with all the baby videos you send me lately? They’re cute, but it’s not the kind of videos you usually send,” you asked him one day after he sent you a baby video for the fifth time today. 

“They’re the only content that I consume now apparently.” His answer only made you more confused.

“I’m sorry what?” you chuckled. 

“At first it was just funny ones. Then some cute ones of babies interacting with animals and it kinda spiraled from there. My phone is even giving me ads related to baby foods now, but I don’t even mind it,” he shared. 

“Sounds like you caught baby fever.” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. 

“I want one so bad. Can we have one please?” He dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “I bet we would have the cutest baby,” he added, picking his head up.

“Jooyeon, babies are a big responsibility.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. 

“I know, trust me I know. I spent the past few weeks watching baby videos like it’s my job. I even learned about milk tongue,” he states. “So what do you say?” He loosely wrapped his arms around your lower back.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

[moon-ttokki-x]

choose your own adventure - hyunjin ver.

pairing: hyunjin x 9th member fem!reader

summary: a choose-your-own-story where hyunjin asks you to be his plus one. based off this chan post.

genre: idol!au, fem!reader, 9th member!au, mentions of eating and drinking, this fic (if you can even call it that) is just super fluffy and playful. nothing much really but if i have missed anything comment and let me know !

a/n: we're switching it up and trying something new . . .

how it works: read until you get to a choice. pick one image, and then go to the number and description below it, and read that part. scroll down to the heart, where it says 'your turn' and keep reading until the next choice. i hope it's not too confusing but it seems pretty self-explanatory i think. hope you guys have fun with this one, if you enjoyed it comment below ! might make some other versions soon <3 this is a fic where you can go back and choose different choices to make the story just how you like it .

happy reading from ttokki !!

skz masterlist

A quiet sigh escapes your lips as you headed out of your vocal lesson. Shutting the door behind yourself, you began to head down the hallway, pressing a hand to your throat.

That vocal practice felt like it took ages, and your instructor hadn't been in the best mood this morning.

Oh well, you think. At least it's over.

Tipping your waterbottle up to quench your thirst and soothe your throat, you groan as nothing comes out. Sighing and tossing the plastic bottle into a bin, you turn down the hallway, intending to go to the cafe and buy a drink.

Staff members, trainees, and other artists take up seats in the JYPE cafe, laughing, chatting, having meetings, and walking around. You walk up to the counter, waiting in line, and then order a cold drink.

Taking your receipt, you turn and look around, trying to spot a place to sit. Someone taps your shoulder.

You turn around.

"Hey, Hyune," you say. "Thought you had a shoot."

He scratches the back of his head meekly. "I did, but I got out of it. Apparently something went wrong with their cameras."

You poke him playfully in the side as you both move to claim a table.

"Broke them with your beauty, huh?" You tease, sitting down.

Hyunjin flops down in the chair opposite you, grinning as he taps the edge of the table with two fingers. "Something like that."

You smile and thank the server as she comes and places your drink down in front of you. She nods back with a smile and walks away. You waste no time in taking huge, icy gulps of your drink, gasping in relief as the cool, flavoured liquid floods your body.

Hyunjin watches you intently. His eyes flicker to the ice in your drink, big, solid cubes clinking together as you stir the liquid around with your straw.

"Hey," he says hesitantly. You look up.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I had something I wanted to tell you."

You tilt your head and stir your drink the opposite way, taking another gulp. "Shoot."

"So, you know the Versace event I was talking about yesterday at dance practice?" Hyunjin says, sitting up a little straighter.

"Mhm," you say, fiddling with your straw in interest. "What about it? You got invited, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "And it's tonight, and I only just got informed I needed a plus-one to the event."

"Oh," you say.

Choice 1: How does Hyunjin ask you to be his plus-one to the event? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Iced coffee:

Hyunjin sits up suddenly then, laughing nervously. His fingers tap faster on the table.

"So, um... Kind of a long shot, but I was hoping you'd, um, sort of- Come with me?" He waves his hands frantically. "It's- Um, I know it's super last-minute and you might have something else to do, but I really wanted you to accompany me there... If you want to, of course."

"There's no pressure." He adds, rubbing the back of his neck.

(2) Fizzy blue soda:

Hyunjin sits up, pulling something out from his pocket. He slides an ivory letter across the table, delicate paper sealed with a little flower stamp. He nods for you to open it, so you do. You read the paper inside:

"Y/n,

This Versace event is a place where everything will glow, and I find myself longing to share the evening with someone who will shine the same way.

If you'd be willing, I would love to take you along as my plus-one, my esteemed guest. Only if you wish to, however.

RSVP with a single, affirmative word.

H.H"

(3) Strawberry ice:

"Yeah, um..." He stretches a hand across the table and presses it over yours briefly.

"It's a pretty formal thing," he says. "But I was really hoping you'd team up with me for the night? It's kind of a drag without someone to make things fun..."

He chuckles then, pink dusting his cheeks in a soft blush. "I think it would be more fun if you were there with me. But if you don't want to, then it's okay. I know it's on, like, super short notice, so I understand."

♡

Your turn...

"I would love to, Hyune," you say softly. "I didn't actually have anything planned for tonight. I think it'll be interesting. But I'll have to get my stylist on it as soon as possible."

"Yeah, no, of course," Hyunjin says, looking relieved. "That'd be great. I'll meet you outside the building at six tonight. The car will be waiting to take us to the event."

"Sure," you say, standing up. "I'll be there on time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find something to wear." You tap his nose playfully and begin to walk away.

You head down the corridors and hallways, taking turns until you reach the female artists' fitting rooms.

Your stylist opens the door as soon as you knock on the wood. She ushers you inside and you laugh, watching as she begins to pull out several dresses for you to wear. She holds each one up for you to see.

Choice 2: What dress are you choosing? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) White dress:

"I want to wear that one, please," you say to your stylist, pointing to a ruffled white dress. She nods and sets it down across the table.

"I'll get it sorted out for you, never fear," your stylist says, smiling. "It's a great choice, Y/n. It'll make you look absolutely stunning, and the colour is so simple and clean too. You'll look great."

(2) Cream dress:

"That one's pretty," you say. Your stylist picks up the soft, creamy dress and hangs it up on a hook so you can see all of it properly.

"Great choice," your stylist says. "The layers will look so pretty as you move about, like a bird. Soft but effortless, and it's light too, so you won't have much trouble walking around in it. Perfect pick, Y/n."

(3) Pink dress:

"What about this one?" You say, pointing to a puffy, pink dress.

"Lovely," your stylist says, brushing a hand across it as she lays it out for you to see. "The pink is a little extravagant, but it's perfect for you, and it reminds me of sakura flowers. Puffy is the best way to go, I think. Nice work, Y/n."

♡

Your turn...

"Thanks," you say, blushing at the praise.

"I want to look really good tonight," you add. "Hyunjin will look effortless as per usual, so I want to look just as beautiful. Thank you for sorting the dress out for me."

"No worries," your stylist says, hanging up your chosen dress on the wall. "You need some accessories, though... Can't have you wearing such a pretty gown with no jewelry."

She leads you to a jewelry display cabinet and unlocks it so you can take out different pieces and look at them.

"Take your pick," she says.

Choice 3: What jewelry set are you picking? Select one.

If you chose...

(1): Silver leafy branch set:

The silver branches catch your eye, and you hold up one of the earrings. "This set is beautiful."

"That one's pretty popular," your stylist says. "I can see why. It'd suit your outfit perfectly." She places it on top of the jewelry cabinet.

"I'll make sure it's specially reserved for you tonight."

(2): Diamond teardrop set:

You hold up the diamond necklace, watching it glitter in the light. "I like this one a lot."

Your stylist carefully takes the jewelry before holding it up to the dress. "It's lovely, and a perfect match to the gown." She sets it down carefully on the table.

"I'll get it deep cleaned for you so it sparkles."

(3): Gold flower set:

"Wow, I want to wear this one," you say, holding the necklace up.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Your stylist says. "The flowers will match your dress amazingly." She nods approvingly at your select choice.

"I'll have someone check over the clasps so nothing breaks or catches while you're at the event."

♡

Your turn...

After carefully selecting your jewelry and dress, your stylist sits you down in a chair and does your makeup just how you like it; not too much, but not too little either. Just enough to make you shine.

She adds eyeshadow the colour of your dress and puts a little glitter on your cheeks, complimenting you at every turn.

You thank her and stay as still as you can while she does your hair, trying not to scrunch your eyes and ruin the perfect makeup while she sprays hairspray over your hairstyle to set it in place. You admire it in the mirror, thanking her profusely.

You accept her help as you change into the dress, and clasp the necklace and earrings onto yourself. Turning side to side, you admire the look and smile at your stylist's dramatic praise.

You say a grateful thankyou and goodbye to her as two staff members guide you to the car waiting outside the JYPE building.

Evening is beginning to fall, the sky peachy and pink. You spot Hyunjin, leaning on the car's frame while the driver starts the engine inside.

Choice 4: What is Hyunjin wearing? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Charcoal grey suit:

Hyunjin lightly brushes off the shoulder of his grey suit jacket, adjusting the lapel as he holds a hand out to you. The light grey and patterned collared shirt is speckled with flowers and pretty designs. Your eyes wander over it as he smiles down at you.

"You look beautiful," he says sincerely. "Hope I didn't overdress."

"You could never," you say softly. "I think you look great."

Hyunjin smiles again, his eyes crinkling, and stands up fully, leaning off the car. The silver chain at his waists sways gently with the movement.

"Come on," he says, opening the door of the sleek black car for you. "Let's head off."

(2) Soft white suit:

Hyunjin looks like he's glowing in the setting light of the sun. It throws a little pink tone over his jacket, spotless and pristine, and he waves at you as you approach. His dark dress pants highlight his long legs.

"I love your dress," he says shyly, chuckling. "I feel a bit boring now. Are you trying to outdo me, Y/n?"

"I already did," you say jokingly, your eyes softening. "You look lovely, Hyune. We match, too."

He chuckles, taking your hand. "We do match. I asked your stylist what colour you'd be wearing."

He opens the car door and gently guides you in.

"We better get going."

(3) Black + silver suit:

"Look at you," Hyunjin says, impressed. "Pulled out all the stops, huh?"

You laugh as he takes your hand gently. The silver design on his shoulder stands out against the black, as do the buckles on the belts around his waist. They glint in the softening light of the sun.

"I did, but it looks like you did too," you say in response. "I like the silver thing."

"I know," he says dryly. "I do too. That's why I wore it."

You fight a giggle and swat his shoulder. He sways dramatically before opening the car door and placing a hand on the frame so you don't hit your head.

"Time to go," he says.

♡

Your turn...

The car journey isn't that long; by the time the sun fully sets, and the sky has turned a deep shade of blue, the sleek black car is pulling up the entrance of the event. You peer out the window and wait for Hyunjin to exit the car first.

He holds out a hand to you and you take it gratefully, stepping out. Your foot hits the ground and you brush yourself down, hoping you haven't creased the beautiful dress.

You and Hyunjin look around as you begin to head into the event and past the security guards. They just nod and let you through, Hyunjin's face a familiar one at these types of fashion events.

Choice 5: Where is the Versace event being held? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Outdoor soft-lit terrace

You and Hyunjin begin to make your way through, winding between tables and people. You tread over soft, green grass, and gaze up at the lanterns above you. They hang suspended by wire, almost looking as if they're magically floating on their own.

The tables are set for dinner, and everything is cast in a soft, romantic glow. People nod at Hyunjin as he walks by, and he offers you his arm as he begins to mingle. You take it and relish the soft comfort of his presence as he introduces you here and there to people.

Some are artists from other groups you recognise, some fashion designers, but all are distinguished members of society. You begin to feel a little nervous, but Hyunjin rubs his hand over yours as he blends in effortlessly.

After you both find your places and eat dinner, everyone moves to socialise and talk about the latest events. You stay quiet for a while and let Hyunjin do his thing.

Eventually, you begin to feel confident enough to talk and approach people on your own, Hyunjin always a step behind you. He claps his hands together quietly when an interaction goes particularly well.

Hyunjin's gaze flickers to you every now and then.

(2) Modeling show venue

You and Hyunjin both make your way to the front of the room, where the stage is. The lights begin to flash just as you both take your seats, and the host comes out to announce the event, its history, and the progress they've made with designing new items.

Everyone claps, and you and Hyunjin both watch in interest as the models begin to walk out, decked out in strange luxurious outfits. Music blares and the lights dramatically grow brighter.

The show goes by in sections; people chatter and socialise between runway displays. The designer next to you recognises you next to Hyunjin and strikes up a conversation with you.

You're a little awkward at first, still feeling a little shy and overwhelmed, but you look at Hyunjin for reassurance and he nods, chiming in occasionally to keep the conversation going.

Hyunjin's hand finds yours under the table.

(3) Gilded art museum

You and Hyunjin walk around the museum, where displays of fashion items are placed in glass cases. There's a staff member or a designer standing nearby.

Whoever approaches asks about the item, and you begin to really become invested in the history of the fashion, why certain shapes and fabrics are used, and all the rest of it. You never knew the depth of it before.

Everything is lit in a rich golden glow, and Hyunjin's teeth shine charmingly under the light as he effortlessly networks. He talks to all the right people, says all the right things, and keeps a hand on your lower back like the gentleman he is.

You try your best to talk a bit too, but you eventually become content with watching him do his thing. It's comforting to see him so in his element, and you start to feel more and more comfortable as the night progresses.

Hyunjin looks down at you and smiles gently.

♡

Your turn...

After several hours, you and Hyunjin retire to a corner, sipping lightly on drinks and observing. You needed a little bit of a break, anyway; it's surprising how quickly you got fatigued and overwhelmed. Your cheeks hurt, too. You've never had to smile so much in your life, but all in all, things have gone quite well.

You feel very proud of yourself for not messing things up.

You're busy watching several extravagantly-dressed figureheads talking in a circle when Hyunjin speaks up.

"What do you think?" He says. He smirks then, gesturing to the people you're observing in interest. "Of their outfits. But also of the night."

You chuckle. "I think it's very intriguing. This event has been very intriguing. It's a new experience, but I liked it."

His gaze softens. "I'm glad. Are you okay, though?" He gestures vaguely, the liquid in his glass swirling. "I know it can be a bit- overwhelming."

You swallow and nod a little. "I'm okay, it's just- It can be a lot. I think I've talked more in the past hour than I have all of this week."

Hyunjin laughs, a high, charming sound amongst the elegant din. Your heart almost explodes.

"Yeah, it can be a lot. But it's nice having you by my side." His face flushes slightly. "It feels... different. Better."

You smile a tiny bit. "I'm glad."

His tone drops then after a pause, low and confidential. "You know, I was kinda worried about asking you. It's a big event, and I didn't know if you'd be okay with putting yourself on the spot."

He adjusts the lapel of his jacket, cheeks pink. "I, um- I felt a lot calmer after you said yes." He chuckles quietly, a little sadly. "I guess I needed my lucky charm..."

"A lucky charm, hmm?" You start to feel a little shy, but you meet his dark, deep gaze. "And here I was, thinking I was your emergency plus-one."

"Nah," Hyunjin says, nodding in thanks as a waiter takes his empty glass. "I felt like, you know... Sharing this with you. Having you with me makes the overwhelming things feel a little bit more..." He pauses, searching for the right word. "...Right. It sounds lame, I know, but..." He trails off, a little embarrassed.

You smile and boldly touch his hand. His skin is warm and you pull back, not wanting any cameras to catch anything unwanted. His gaze is understanding as you press your hands into your sides.

"I appreciate that, Hyune," you say as sincerely as you can. "I don't think it's lame at all. I'm honoured you chose me."

His words hang in the air for a few moments, yours mixing with its undercurrent. You both go silent until Hyunjin's phone vibrates, a message from the manager.

"Time to go," he says, offering you his arm. "The car's waiting."

You nod and both of you begin to walk back through the venue, nodding goodbyes and waving to the people you talked to.

Hyunjin helps you back into the car and shuts the door. Both of you collapse and groan in your seats, then dissolving into giggles. The car pulls away and begins to drive, the partition up to give both of you some space and a break.

You close your eyes for a few minutes, processing everything in relief. You both looked great. You networked, did all the right things. And now you can relax. You can't wait to go home.

"Hey," Hyunjin says quietly.

You open your eyes to look at him.

Choice 6: What does Hyunjin say next? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Aura flower:

"You looked like an absolute masterpiece," he says softly.

Your cheeks heat up and you look at your hands in your lap, fighting the urge to smile as wide as your cheeks will allow.

"Thanks," you whisper, somehow able to form a coherent sentence despite the buzzing feeling in your chest. "I think you looked amazing too."

He exhales a little laugh through his nose and leans his head against the seat. His makeup is a little smudged but you almost think it looks better that way. "Thanks, Y/n."

"We made it through," you say after a brief pause, relieved.

He laughs out loud then, a little chuckle that sends a pang of affection straight to your soul. "We did, yeah."

He turns to look at you, his tired eyes fixed on your own.

"You looked stunning, Y/n. As always."

(2) Aura star:

"You shone brighter than anyone else there, you know," he whispers.

You chuckle shyly and lean your head against the seat, messing up your hair a little. You pull a little strand of it, hands shaking. "No..."

"You did," he insists. "They loved you. All of them. I think they were wondering why they hadn't seen you before. And I just know all of them thought you looked amazing."

"Hyune, stop."

"No," he says insistently, tilting his head at you as you laugh a little. "You did exactly what you were supposed to. It was effortless. Gonna have to tell JYP to make you go to events more often."

He stretches a little, his shoulder popping.

"You were amazing, Y/n."

(3) Aura heart:

"You were my favourite view tonight," he admits shyly.

You don't even say anything in response, too taken aback by his honest statement. You feel your face heat up and you smile shyly, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

Too flustered to do anything else, you shake your head.

"You were," he insists gently. "I couldn't stop looking at you, even when I was the one talking. You were talking and mingling so well, holding your head so high... You almost made me jealous."

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, though it's laced with sincerity. "Almost?"

"Yeah," he says casually, crossing his hands behind your head. "Almost. But seriously, you did so, so well. Just perfect, you know that?"

He nudges you gently. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

♡

Your turn...

After a while, some sleepy exchanged chatter in the backseat, and a couple of selcas later, the car pulls up at the JYPE building. Hyunjin gets out first and offers you his hand. You both thank the driver.

Night has well and truly fallen, and it's quite late.

Taking Hyunjin's hand and almost stumbling in your sleepiness, you pat down your dress and check off things in your head, just to make sure you haven't forgotten anything.

Hyunjin is busy messaging his manager on his phone, reporting that you both got back safely and that the event went well. The streets are quiet, and it feels like you're the only ones in the whole of Seoul.

Turning around, you're about to tell Hyunjin this, before you stop short.

He's holding something in his hand, outstretched to you. He budges your shoulder a little with it, shyly gesturing for you to take it.

So you do.

Choice 7: What did Hyunjin give you? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Rich burgundy dye:

You take the item from him.

It's a small, velvet box; much like the ones that people have their rings when the propose.

Opening the ring box, you're met with a dainty loop of silvery gold, a shimmering stone of your favourite colour set into the middle. Two little jeweled wings sit either side of the stone, and it glitters under the streetlight.

"Hyune," you gasp. "I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can," he says, stepping forward. "It's a thankyou. For always showing up for me. I would have been lost without you tonight."

You chuckle softly, fighting sudden tears. "You don't need to say thank you to me. I would have agreed no matter the circumstances."

Hyunjin shakes his head. "That's what I'm saying. You always show up for me. You're always there. So consider this a token of my gratitude, from member to member. Not just for tonight, for all of it."

He delicately takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger.

(2) Dusty blonde dye:

You take the item from him.

It's a little gift bag, cream-coloured with the Versace logo embellished in gold on the side. You look up at him in question, but he just nods and gestures for you to open it.

Reaching inside, you pull out a little strip of white leather; drawing it out of the bag all the way, you chuckle as you hold the keychain up.

It's a little star-shaped Versace plush in white fur; it has a little pair of white sunglasses, the clasp golden and connecting the little furry thing to the leather strap.

"I love it," you say, giggling. "It looks familiar, too. You have one the same, right?"

"Right," he nods, grinning. "I have one in black. I thought we could be matching."

You step forward and pull him into a hug. "I'm gonna find somewhere to hang it as soon as possible. It's so cute and fluffy."

"Like you."

You splutter and thwack him on the arm.

(3) Icy blue dye:

You take the item from him.

It's a smooth, cardboard box; the rose-gold embellishment shines under the streetlights, highlighting the abstract sketches all over the packaging.

There's a pretty silver ribbon tied around its middle, and you look at Hyunjin in question.

He nods, so you pull the ribbon off and carefully pull out the smaller section of the box. A beautiful perfume bottle sits comfortably in a cutout of black foam.

The bottle is shaped like a heart, facets of it cut like a diamond. The liquid inside is a lovely light purple, and little bits of glitter swirl inside the bottle. The nozzle cover is shaped like a crown. Your name is engraved in fancy cursive along the top of the bottle.

"Hyune," you say in awe, dumbstruck by the loveliness of the gesture. "You didn't have to do this for me."

"I did," he says gently. "I wanted to."

♡

Your turn...

You give him a hug, holding the gift in one hand.

He smells like his familiar musky cologne, though it's faded and only just there. You pull back and swear you almost feel your heart burst. His eyes are alight with gentle affection even under the darkness of late-night Seoul.

"Thank you for asking me along," you say. "I really enjoyed myself."

"Ditto," Hyunjin says, eyes crinkling. "Better get used to it... I might drag you along to more events in the future."

You chuckle and turn to head up the stairs. Hyunjin waits until you're inside, but he doesn't follow. Knowing his schedule, he's probably not done for the night, and the thought makes your heart pang.

You hope he'll get at least a little bit of rest.

Heading up the stairs, then the lift, then down multiple hallways, you unlock the door to your dorm room. Stepping inside, you take your shoes off and sigh.

It's late, and all you want to do is collapse onto the floor and maybe sleep there for the next few days, but you have to sort yourself out first. You head to your bedroom and change into your favourite comfy set of clothes, their familiar texture and warmth making your eyes droop.

Choice 8: Which pajamas do you choose? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Casual sweatshirt pajama set:

You change into a white sweatshirt, baggy and comfortable, and a pair of black and white pajama bottoms. It's cold outside, and your feet are getting cold too, so you slip on a pair of fluffy white socks.

You sit on the bed to put them on. Your phone chimes beside you and you pick it up, flicking your messages open. There's a text from Hyunjin, so you open the chat.

Sleep well, Y/nnie! You did great tonight xx 💫

(2) Teddy-bear pajama set:

You button up a fleecy, cream-coloured pajama shirt with brown bears all over the fabric, and pull on matching bottoms. Heat floods through your body and you sigh, feeling cosy.

It's getting cold and your feet feel like ice, so you put on a pair of white socks too. Your phone buzzes as you stand up and stretch. It's a text from Hyunjin, so you unlock your phone.

I hope you get some rest, Y/n 🖤 You deserve it.

(3) Black silk pajama set:

You pull out your favourite set of black silk pajamas and slip into them, the smooth, clean material making you feel luxuriously relaxed.

You don't feel too cold at the moment, so you don't bother with a hoodie or socks. Or maybe you should... You don't want to get sick. While you're contemplating this, your phone pings, and you pick it up to see a text from Hyunjin.

Sweet dreams, Y/n ☁️ See you tomorrow!

♡

Your turn...

You smile and text a quick goodnight reply back. Turning off your phone, you set it on your bedside before stepping into the bathroom. You wouldn't dream of falling asleep without taking care of your skin.

Especially after such a long day.

You survey the countertops and then the drawers, trying to decide which of your products to use.

Choice 9: Which K-beauty products are you using? Select one.

If you chose...

(1) Pink skincare set:

You select several products.

Washing your face thoroughly with a cleanser, you dry it off with a pink towel and apply a soothing lotion on top. You use your gua sha and jade roller for a while and then apply your usual skincare overnight cream on top, as well as a few cute sticker patches.

Your skin feels refreshed and smooth.

(2) Grey skincare set:

You select several products.

After cleansing your face, you apply a face cream and your favourite overnight lip mask. Applying two grey jelly eye patches underneath your eyes, you use a little bit of your usual cream on your blemishes before screwing the lid back on.

Your skin feels clean and glowy.

(3) Beige skincare set:

You select several products.

Wiping down your face after cleansing it, you apply your favourite cream and then a honey-coloured serum, smelling of vanilla. Rubbing it into your skin, you massage your face gently before applying a lip balm and your usual skincare cream.

Your skin feels moisturised and balmy.

♡

Your turn...

Sighing and turning the bathroom light off, you close the door before slipping into bed.

The sheets and duvet feel so, so good after such a long and busy day. It was eventful and you enjoyed yourself a lot, but there's nothing like the comfort of being home, all cosy in bed.

You lean over and switch the bedside lamp off, throwing a blanket of soothing darkness over the room. Shifting a little to get comfortable, you wonder what Hyunjin is doing. Hopefully getting ready to rest for the night too. Your cheeks warm at the domestic thought.

Sighing cosily, you turn onto your side and close your eyes. You hope this 'emergency plus-one' thing happens a bit more often in the future, and as you begin to fall asleep, you think that you'd like to meet up with him under other circumstances too. Where it's just the two of you.

One day.

a/n: this better not fucken flop omg . anyway please comment and let me know what you think ! might do more of the members if this one goes well <3

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[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Thirty One - Broken Realities

Part Thirty

———

Mecha originally were designed to just be giant weapons, to fight the Quintessons without question. A one man army, so to speak. 

It was only after the first cycle of designs were additional designs and operating systems added, some of which have been discontinued for reasons that are still being kept from the public. 

Currently, there stands four different classes of mecha. Each with different monitors across agencies and organizations.

MECHA has them labeled as; Striker, Hunter, Tanker, and Rescue.

The last two are more so designed for the more human elements of the work than the battle elements of the work. As for the rest, their roles are strict and designed to fit the compatibility of the pilot. 

A Striker class is assigned to the general comparable pilots, they make up a majority of active pilots and their suits are more likely than others to survive strenuous battle. They are by far the fastest, from connection time to deployment time, it is half of the next fastest class. All designed specifically to fight and destroy the foreign invaders of Earth, every pilot goes through the striker unit compatibility testing.

A Rescue class is significantly dwindling in its usage, generally used for evacuations and reconnaissance of an attacked area. They were a natural evolution to the technology in an attempt to shrink it for better access.  Around one in every five pilots is found compatible to be used in a rescue class unit. Known for disaster relief, they have been seen as more of a harm than a good through the eyes of the public. Select pilots are given the opportunity to go through rescue unit compatibility testing. 

A Tanker class was originally designed and held exclusively by the USSR, the heavier and denser cousin to the Striker class. Also the first to have an onboard nuclear reactor to power the mecha suit. Around one in fifty pilots are found compatible with tanker class, generally running in family lines and found with stronger connections to military service. They have the slowest deployment time, but have been known to cause on average more amounts of damage to the foreign enemy. Military is offered the ability to go through tanker compatibility testing, once someone is found compatible biological relations are sent notices with offers of testing. 

Lastly, the Hunter class which has the lowest number of suits and pilots, around one in every hundred pilots is found compatible. Their deployment times are not logged, their design to both study and destroy Quintessons, reporting data to the pilots given organizations at large. These are rarely seen by the public and limited information is offered on them, used for covert operations against the invaders. Select pilots are selected for compatibility testing, there is no offered opportunity for the hunter class units and it’s given compatibility testing. 

All four classes are found to be important, though it is likely classes will continue to fall off the previously longer list.

—

It was still dark out when they all sat down and it almost felt normal to sit around with other pilots over other mecha, but nothing was normal, not now.

He was still drinking the water, trying to feel human again even if for only a moment. Ignoring the worried expressions of his crew, Hound drained the last of one of his water pouches with a sigh, “My god Hound, I said drink some, not down the pouch.” Cracking a smile, he shrugged a bit. 

The nausea ebated for the moment and he was able to lean back, closing his eyes. 

Sunstreaker whistled lower, “Damn Hound, have you been fighting this whole time?” Hound didn’t feel like responding, keeping his eyes closed for a moment longer before sighing and looking back at the screens.

“How long have you been connected?” Breakdown was frowning at him through the camera, eating some of the familiar purple alien food from their makeshift bowls. For a moment, he really wasn’t sure when his friend would have had time to get the food. 

Sighing, Hound rubbed his neck, “Since middle of last night, I think.” He winced and his hand came away bloody, sighing again he got up and shuffled towards his cot. 

It felt wrong, being small and moving around, but he needed to keep grounded, “Hound, your overuse is the worst out of all of us, always has been according to the memo.” Sunny was frowning, looking worried, “You’re doing a lot.” Hound nodded, grabbing bandages and antiseptic, moving to sit back down while grabbing his bag of food. Jugging the weirdest collection of first aid and food.

He tilted his head forward and started to clean his implants and older surgery scars, “The sooner we get through the overuse, the better off we’ll be in the long run, like Jazz.” Hound winced again as the antiseptic burned, he bit the inside of his cheek hard. 

Glancing up, both men were staring at him with worry, sighing slowly, he recovered the sores with bandages, “I’m alright.” Breakdown shakes his head, “It looks like you could sleep for a month.” Hound rolled his eyes, putting his helmet back on carefully, “We all probably could, but we’ll get time off once we’re adjusted to our new units.” 

He was getting the helmet adjusted when both the cameras of the others went out, he just got the audio hooked back up when his suit was nudged.

They couldn’t even have a moment to speak. 

It took only a second to get plugged back in, but he stayed on the floor, it didn’t take long for his visor to lighten at the audio cleared up, “Is he alright?” It was Optimus Prime, he glanced up at the frowning mech, “Uh, yeah, just tired.” Sunstreaker rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“Optimus Prime, sir.” Hound nodded slightly, “I apologize, I’ve been,” but Optimus was shaking his head, “You’ve been fighting for nearly two days straight, I’ve heard. You should rest.” Already shaking his head, Hound sighed deeply, “They need me out there, I will be fine for a while longer, sir.” Optimus frowned. 

Standing up, he stretches slightly and rests at parade rest, “Sir, where do you need us?” Optimus sighed slowly, looking at the horizon, “Where would you station your unit Hound?” Nodding some, he looks to Breakdown then Sunstreaker, “How much did you change the map in command, sir?” He hardly spared Optimus a glance through.

“I made adjustments to the line and placed my commanders and myself to the west, south, and east.” Humming, Hound kept an eye on the horizon, “I will suggest that Sunstreaker goes to the west and I’ll return to the east.” He brushed a hand over his head, sighing deeply, “Then Breakdown could cover your six, sir.” Looking over, he pauses for a moment.

Optimus was staring at him, much more intently than before, “Sir?” Optimus’s optics cycled once, then twice before he lightly shook his head, “I apologize, of course. Whatever you think is best.” Nodding slowly, Hound turns to the other humans, “You ready?” Both nodded.

Sunstreaker was likely smiling, “We’ll see you later?” Hound nodded, “You know what to do.” Giving a mock salute, Sunny was off at a run.

Breakdown sighed slowly, his shoulder cannon humming to life and turning, “I follow your lead, Optimus Prime, sir.” Optimus winced and sighed, adjusting his grip on his blaster, “This way, then.” He leads the way towards the west.

Taking a slow and deep breath, Hound turns towards the way he had come from, staring before starting forward slowly. 

—

The battlefield was chaotic, but Sunstreaker was gripping his controls tighter than he ever had, running straight at the enemy as if they weren’t something to be frightened of. 

Although the blades on his bracers needed to be sharpened, they would have to do for the current battle. Never in his life had Sunny seen anything quite like this, certainly never on Earth. The darkness didn’t help, but he was more familiar with the use of infrared against the enemy than most pilots. 

He collided with a Quintesson that a small group of bots was firing on, his fist and blade pulled back before striking at the face of the alien creature, satisfied with the smear of green covering his yellow in the dark. 

Fights like these reminded him of why he was a pilot, more than a dozen mecha behind him had been trying to hold off this thing and here he was grappling with it, to Sunstreaker that meant everything. 

For a second, the briefest of seconds, with the sand under the feet of his mech it reminded him of fighting back home. In the middle of the night, just him and a Quint on the beach, trying to tear each other apart.

The stars were familiar, just in the edge of his view as he tangled with the Quintesson, though it’s angle was different than he remembered, still the fight went a lot the same.

Fist hitting the side of the alien, blade slashing off one of the roaming tentacles and preventing it from wrapping around his suit. The voice in his ear though, that was a familiar one.

”If you don’t hurry up and handle that freak of nature it will try to get into Daytona Sunstreaker!” The voice in command was filled with a light static, something that he’d almost forgotten being so normal on Earth, “Alright, I hear ya!” He swore and tore off the tentacle that snagged his arm.

There was a quiet moment while he kept at it, ”I didn’t say anything.” That voice was clear and almost unfamiliar, he was too focused to listen to whatever else the voice had said after.

A crash of the thing to the ground made him drag air deeply into his lungs, gasping for air, “Your shifts not over yet Sonny, focus on the now and look forward to the later, alright?” Nodding slightly, he looked up and his vision cleared just in time to see another slamming into him.

They moved back several feet, his cockpit groaning with the force of it, the last of his visor shattering behind the protective cover and his cameras flared even in the dark. Spiderwebs taking over a lense or two of its own.  

It didn’t take Sunstreaker long to recover enough sense to start hitting and tearing at the thing, it was growling and screamed with every pull of flesh from it’s skeletal structure. He didn’t realize till the shot hit the Quintesson that he’d been yelling at it. 

Looking over his shoulder, he made eye contact with Bluestreak, who was perched up on a rock with a rifle in hand. Though as soon as the shot was clear, the light quiver to his hands returned.

Grunting with effort, Sunstreaker dove back on the fallen Quintesson as it tried to get back up, hands digging into the flesh of the beast. Tearing it apart in a vicious sort of way.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t entirely the alien’s fault for the hallucination, it was a symptom of overuse. But they were the reason why he was experiencing overuse or why it even was a thing that pilots had to deal with. So taking his frustration out on it was better than on his friends. 

He kept tearing at it, until the ground was a pool of green and he was thoroughly covered in its gore. This was a time when he’d have to hit the wash racks, no questions asked.

Taking a slow deep breath, he straightened and looked about, there were other fights though they were starting to get further away. The push back of the few reinforcements was certainly helping. Turning, he looked back where Bluestreak had been, only having a moment to brace in the sand.

“You fragging idiot!” Bluestreak collided with Sunstreaker, holding him close as the remnants of his visor broke off into the cover over it. Sunny chuckled lightly, brushing a hand up Blue’s back, “I’m alright Blue, I’m okay.” But Bluestreak didn’t let go.

He held onto Blue, worry tearin at his gut while his friend clutched at him desperately, similar to how Sideswipe would hold him if after a mission almost went sour, how the few people he’d had relationships back on Earth had done. It hit him like a ton of bricks, or a direct hit to his cockpit would and he held tighter to Bluestreak. Sunstreaker took a slow breath, “So, this is what the inside joke is then?” He clutches Blue closer when the mech tries to pull away.

Though it was hard to breathe, he didn't want to let go, to face the war outside their embrace for just a moment longer. 

Closing his eyes, he just stands there, holding Bluestreak close, “I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.” And Bluestreaks’ arms wrapped around Sunstreaker tighter, he sighed slowly, “I’m sorry.” Sunny chuckled lightly, “Don’t be, just, later.” Sunny slowly pulls back, smiling even though Blue couldn’t see it. 

Bluestreak’s face had changed color, infrared showing the dramatic shift in temperature, Sunny grinning pulled away knowing there was still more to be done, “I’ll see you later?” And for the first time, in all the time that they had known each other, Bluestreak was speechless.

Sunny made quick work of rerouting his vision to cameras without shattered lenses, one or two of the dozens, mostly hidden end by the cover protecting his bare head. It would be a horrific sight, he knew that deep down but now was not the time to worry or fret over it, running and sliding through the sand with that practiced ease. 

When the streak of yellow went running back off, Bluestreak vented slowly, “Fragging humans.” And he rubbed the plating over his spark with a grin. 

—

Dragging thrashing mecha while his cannon was booming on his shoulder felt weirdly familiar. Reminded Breakdown of his early days in the military, gun up and firing while dragging comrades hopefully back to safety. 

Except now he knew that the people he was bringing back would be alright, one of if not the best medic on Cybertron was planet side and screaming as just about everyone except for him. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do to not face the medics wrath but for the moment he was grateful. 

Leaning the mech against the mound in front of the newly dug trench, several other mecha reached over to grab him as Breakdown started back out into the field at a run. His footsteps shook the ground. 

It surprised him slightly, watching the Cybertronian’s in battle, the way it blew Breakdown away. Their kind knew and understood war, likely far too well, not unlike the people back home. 

Maybe it was the figure in the distance that actually blew him away. Back when they had crash landed on Cybertron, he hadn’t really noticed Megatron or Optimus Prime on the battlefield, to focused on being on a different planet. 

Now though, it was hard to direct his cameras anywhere else, to watch Optimus Prime tear apart their shared enemy unlike nearly any other Cybertronian he had seen. It was hard to picture someone like that on Earth being in the midst of battle, he couldn’t picture the president of the United States as they currently sat in power in the midst of a battle ensuring the safety of their citizens. 

Though that just might be his perspective on it, it seems far more normal to a number of the soldiers around to see the leader of their planet in the trenches with them.

Once he was to clear and mostly level space, he adjusted his stance and let his feet sink slightly in the sand till they hit the hard standing underneath. His cannon came online with an ominous hum before he brought his tracking system online.

It was already programmed to hit Quintessons, but he didn’t want it blasting apart mechs in battle, so he turned off the automatic feature, and started targeting. The cannon booming painfully loud on his shoulder every five seconds. Whine, hum, boom, silence, whine, hum, boom. 

And it would carry on like that till getting a medic ping or hearing the scream of a fallen soldier. 

Who he didn’t expect was the swearing of the commander himself, then the mecha who were quick to cover his retreat. Cannon disengaged, he ran over to be in front of him, “Optimus Prime, sir, I’ll provide covering fire.” He briefly assessed the injury, it was a sliced line, likely from the grip of a Quintesson tentacle.

An injury that he himself would have ignored, here through, it was different. 

“No, Breakdown, I’ll be alright.” Optimus’s voice was calm and he was scanning the horizon, “Sir, forgive me, the sooner that it’s patched up the sooner you can return.” He braced his feet, started to separate the landscape between the line and the enemy with dense firing, sending two pings.

One to the seekers who’d follow his line of fire shortly, and one to medical to alert them he was bringing another one in, “So, you have two choices, sir.” Breakdown was yelling over the sound of his cannon as the other soldiers spread back out, “You can come with me willingly, or you can be dragged there by me. It is your choice.” Optimus smiled and chuckled. 

Extending a hand at the next moment of silence, Optimus grasped it with his good arm, gun once again connected to his side. Shifting his weight, Breakdown was able to pull the larger mech up with an ease unfamiliar to Optimus. At least coming from anyone other than Megatron.

Breakdown stayed behind him, ducking his head out of the way as his cannon swiveled back around to continue laying down covering fire. Both their feet slipped in the blood covered sand.

It was a quiet walk, march, whatever they wanted to call it. Both men stayed silent as they went, Optimus choosing to stay quiet as Breakdown was focused on covering their backs. 

Only once they had made it to the trench line and past it, did Optimus start to speak up, “Breakdown, you seem… different from the others, not in a bad way. They seem to hold you in high esteem, but,” Smiling sadly, Breakdown nodded, “But I still stand apart.” He finally let the cannon die off at that moment, turning to walk with Optimus to medical.

With a sigh, Optimus nods and sits down on a crate, just outside of medical, “Do you mind me asking why?” Shrugging a bit, Breakdown knocks on the thin metal wall, “I am the oldest pilot, I also speak a different language from them. Our countries were at a standstill of conflict for decades, well, in a way.” He sighs and scratches below his implants lightly. 

“But to, as they say, make the long story short, I have been in this fight for longer than any of them. Almost as long as adding them together.” He sighs slowly, staring out back towards the battlefield, “I also was losing everything by coming on this mission. My parents, my brothers.” Breakdown’s voice wavered for a moment, “It was hard to accept.” He looked back to Optimus, shaking his head a bit, “But it’s the work.” He sighed.

Flatline came out of medical, “Optimus Prime, sir.” Was all he said before getting to work on the sliced line.

Breakdown watched, “It’s nothing to worry about, the four of us are human and the main connections we have to home.” He leaned slightly against the building before looking at the sky. 

Optimus stared, nodding slowly, “You care deeply,” Smiling a bit, Breakdown nods, “Yes.” Frowning though, Optimus shifted, “Yet you didn’t notice Sunstreaker’s visor.” Breakdown suppressed a chuckle, “I noticed it, it’s mostly covered.” He kept his eyes on the sky. 

“You seemed very concerned over Hound’s well-being, yet hardly commented on Sunstreaker’s shatters visor.” Optimus was frowning, he could see the corner of his optics crease ever so slightly and Breakdown shrugged, “Visors are easily replaceable on Earth, they are a common thing to break, it would be more surprising if none of us experienced it.” He shrugs lightly.

Optimus was still staring, “You speak as if this injury has become overlooked.” Chuckling lightly, Breakdown shakes his head a bit, “Sir, if you don’t mind. We are made to be replaceable, every part here,” He touches his arms and chest lightly, “Is replaceable. It’s by design, why all pilots have visors,” He honestly meant glass visors, but it wasn’t like they would be that specific on Earth.

That made the Prime look, it was hard to tell, maybe heartbroken, “We are meant to come apart and be put back together, mostly, and even the things at our cores have replaceable parts, though not removable ones. Once they are placed there after compatibility testing, new ones or what you have will always remain.” He lightly brushed a hand over his older generation implants, how much they stuck out compared to the others. 

“It is something you become accustomed to, our best scientists using us as science experiments.” He nods slightly and turns at the approaching footsteps.

Knockout was wearing a dark scowl, “Breakdown, please come help these poor idiots off the field and into the infirmary.” He only stopped when he saw the Prime, “If my Prime has no need of your assistance.” Optimus looked pained, “Of course not, please Breakdown, help Knockout with the injured.” Nodding a bit, Breakdown smiled behind his visor, “Yes sir.” He turned and started to follow Knockout, who shot him an odd look. 

Slowing down a bit, Knockout falls in next to Breakdown, “I hope you are healed.” Smiling a bit, he nods slightly, “Uh, yes, as much as I can be. Thank you for your concern.” Nodding too, Knockout toes the ground briefly as they walk, the firefight growing further away. 

As they walked, they fell into step comfortably, watching as the sky started to lighten with daybreak. 

The Prime stood back at the base of the line while Flatline was repairing the torn line, his trigger finger itching nearly painfully, both from anger and grief. Another species who didn’t see the cruelties of their kind was suffering across the universe, all while he watch some of their kin try and sacrifice themselves for his own kind.

———

A/N

I really wanted a Hound part at the end, but that would have made this chapter well over 4.5k and I think that Monday’s chapter deserves its special place.

Some stuff with Breakdown! I wanted the find the right moment to start diving into his character and I felt that it was finally to that point. Of course I still have everyone else to dive into properly but still.

Also, Sunstreaker being the least stupid (other than Jazz) out of the humans makes so much sense to me its not even funny.

Tags

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscrapheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare @ham4ponyo @osqindaxend @sunnyvibesanddoodles @ratatatata248 @ijustneedausernaneplease4444444 @sprook-children @fooolisher 

And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU!

Also thank you to @sightseertrespasser for your help with the Mecha classes. It meant a lot.

(I didn’t know I could only have 50 @‘s in a post… restructure of my tag list coming soon!)

[reidmoony-toast]

Orange Juice. ౨ৎ

"Feels like I've been ready for you to come home for so long"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The two times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, so much fluff, pining

cw: literally nothing!! <3

wc: 2.6k

an: This has taken me SO LONG and I'm not very proud of it 😭 Anyways hope you enjoy, ily xx

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

She was dreaming of him when she woke up. She groaned, burying her face into the crisp white mass of her hotel pillow. Sun filtered through the large windows, dust motes dancing in between the rays of light.

The sky was a vibrant blue, only a select few clouds scattered across its expanse. The trees on the opposite side of the street swayed in a gentle breeze, looking content and greener than ever.

For Virginia, it was beautiful weather. A perfect day. Usually, on a day like today, she would be bounding out of bed to start her morning bright and early. But, she had been dreaming of him, and that wasn't something she wanted to wake up from.

She was back in Virginia to record a few songs for her new album—it was, apparently, filled with a few too many sad songs, mostly about her previous breakup.

Her producer had told her to ‘go away and write some more upbeat songs’ to give the album more variety, and to make it more like her last album.

She cringed just thinking about it. What the hell was she supposed to write about? No immediate inspiration had struck, and she was starting to think that she wasn't cut out for happy songs anymore. And that was a depressing thought.

She gave up on going back to sleep, instead getting up slowly, with another groan, as her limbs protested from the sudden movement. She stretched, yawning, as she tried to recall her dream.

It had been good, she remembered that, but the details were fuzzy, becoming less and less clear the more time she spent awake. Curse her and her weak memory recall—it was especially bad when it came to dreams.

Another thing that didn't help with her little obsession, was a multitude of videos that were making the rounds of her and the ‘mystery man’, as her fans had dubbed him.

The comments were filled with theories and speculation, wondering if she had a new boyfriend, and so many more itching to know his identity.

As much as she wanted that information herself, she was glad his face was hidden in shadow from every camera angle. She didn't want his privacy invaded by hordes of her craziest fans.

She sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower and make herself at least a bit presentable for the cameras that were likely to appear in the most unexpected of places.

~☆~

She would say that when it came to her performance in her line of work so far, it was beyond satisfactory. One might even go on to say she was the peak of professionalism.

She loved her fans; interacting with them during concerts, as well as meeting them in her day-to-day life always made her feel better, but she remained detached to a certain extent to maintain a healthy relationship with her fans.

Fans. She had those now. The very idea was improbable to her. She still couldn't believe all of her dreams had come true. The bright and glittering sheen of success and fame had not even dimmed a bit, and she felt like she had almost everything she could possibly want in life. Until, she saw him.

She didn't believe in love at first sight—but a tangible connection had been instantly formed when their eyes had locked. She felt sparks shoot through her very soul, the golden thread between them snapping taught, dragging her towards him like a moth to a flame. Maybe that was why she did what she did.

She had interacted with so many crowds in so many different cities; seen so many handsome guys–who were most definitely into her by where their lines of sight were—but she had never once willingly touched a fan at a show. Not like she had with him.

She was mad at herself for letting it get so far, as she always prided herself for her unwavering rules and restraint. Professionalism.

He was just… different.

Even a month later, she couldn't stop thinking about the mystery man at the concert—brown eyes, big and wide, staring into hers with awe, messy hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, the perfectly pressed shirt that she took pride in rumpling and the most kissable lips known to man.

It was unfair, really, how gorgeous he was.

He didn't even know the lyrics to any of her songs, but instead of finding it bothersome, she had found it oddly indearing.

He plagued her waking hours, as well as the ones she was asleep for. Many a dream, not just the one from that morning, consisted of him; frequently enough that it made her question her sanity on more than one occasion.

The elevator ride down from her hotel was quiet, her manager staying silent as they descended the levels.

She was glad—she had hardly gotten a wink of sleep the night before, due to being up half the night writing a song she had been working on for a few days now, ever since she was told to write about ‘happier’ things.

She had gotten the instrumentals down, but she couldn't figure out the lyrics. It was downright impossible.

This frustration kept her up into the early hours of the morning—she kept trying different approaches, but none of them worked. This was partly to blame for her less-than-stellar mood today.

They stepped out into the foyer, only to be met with the sight of paparazzi outside the hotel entrance door. She outwardly cringed. The paparazzi were her least favourite bit about this lifestyle. She knew she would never get used to them, no matter how long her stardom lasted.

She put on a brave face, a smile too wide for her at such a young hour of the morning, especially with her mood. See? Professionalism.

The glass doors were propped open for her as she walked through, and she gave the men holding them a nod and a thank you. She stuck close to her manager as they headed for the tinted SUV that would take her to the airport.

Camera shutters went wild as she waved and flashed them a bright grin. Questions were thrown at her from the crowd, although she didn't answer any. The curb neared as the car door was opened for her.

At that moment, she felt a prickle on the side of her neck, coupled with the profound urge to turn and look to her left. She swivelled as she reached her destination, scanning the street for something. Something important.

There, walking down the main road, satchel slung across his body, coffee in one hand, was the man of her dreams. Literally. His hair was tucked behind his ears and he wore a simple button up and dress pants, but a pair of worn converse sat on his feet; not matching with the rest of his business attire whatsoever.

Her dreams had not done him justice—he looked even better than she remembered.

Her eyes widened comically at the utterly creepy coincidence. She squeezed them shut before quickly reopening them, assuming she had finally gone insane, and that he was a mere figment of her imagination.

When she looked again, though, he was still exactly where he was a moment ago.

She was completely frozen, mouth falling open in surprise, and unhearing of the loud shouts of the paparazzi right in front of her. He glanced up from the ground at the disruption in the otherwise quiet early-morning street and her heart leapt clean out of her chest.

Those sweet eyes flicked from the mass of cameras, to the car, to her. His sure steps faltered at the clashing of their gazes, wide eyes stared back into her own shocked ones.

He was still a few yards away, but she could make out his rapidly rising chest, and his hand as it tightened on the flimsy coffee cup.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, all of her words stayed firmly lodged at the back of her throat. She stumbled forward a few steps, intending to just go over to him, but the swarm around her had other ideas.

They moved in tighter, and her manager swiftly grabbed her forearm, guiding her into the back seat of the black car before she was squished between the hordes of paparazzi and their oversized cameras.

She protested, her view of him was obscured, but she was unceremoniously shoved into the SUV nonetheless, her objection unheard in the fray.

The door was shut in her face when she made to get back out, and soon enough, her manager joined her in the back, buckling his seatbelt as they pulled away from the hotel.

She tried to get another glimpse, but all was obscured by the paparazzi. Another of many reasons for her to hate their guts, she supposed.

Her stomach sank in disappointment. Her second chance, ripped out of her grasp—there would never be another opportunity to see him again.

It was foolish to even think such a thing. Twice was a stretch, but three times? She knew that was almost mathematically impossible. Probability was a bitch.

She sighed, and sunk further into her plush seat, staring glumly out the window at the passing street.

~☆~

When she arrived home, her first thought was to write. Music and lyrics were swirling in her head and she needed to write it down before they disappeared completely.

She closed the front door quickly, kicking off her shoes haphazardly, and raced to her studio. She plopped herself down, picked up her guitar, and sang.

The words flowed immediately like never before, and she grinned to herself as she finished the song that had been plaguing her all day and night. It was exactly as she imagined, and exactly what she felt in those moments.

Next to that car, surrounded by paparazzi, and on stage, surrounded by her fans. Those moments where all she could focus on was him. All other distractions, other thoughts, other feelings faded into static—background noise—when they had locked eyes.

It was perfectly pathetic of her to write such a sappy song about a man she had never properly met, but pathetic seemed to be her brand these last few weeks— and the song was good, there was no denying that.

She hit record on her phone, intending to send the audio clip to her producer for approval. She knew the song would go across well with her team. From when she had first sung it, it felt right. Like it had been bubbling under the surface for some time now, waiting patiently to be let out.

“Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

Starts to make its way to me…”

~☆~

She finished a song, and cheers rippled toward her from every angle, surrounding the stage. She tipped her head back, basking in the warmth flooding her body as she beamed in exhilaration. This feeling. This was why she did what she did.

To know that her and hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of people were all connected by one thing. Music. Her music, that she had written about her own life, hoping that others could relate, too.

Hoping others would enjoy listening to it as much as she enjoyed writing it. She was incredibly blessed to have this job, and she couldn’t think of something better, more fulfilling, than this.

The crowd was especially loud at this point, because they knew what was next. She would play a song that wasn’t on the setlist—one of hers, or sometimes, a song from another popular artist. Her fans dubbed them as ‘surprise songs’, and it had become somewhat of a novelty.

She waited for them to quiet down a bit, before she spoke. “So… I have something a little different for you tonight.”

The room went wild. She laughed, before waiting once more to speak. “It’s an unreleased song that I wrote a few days ago.” Screams of excitement bounced from floor to ceiling.

“And, if you guys like it enough, I might just release it as a single, how does that sound?” She grinned cheekily at the deafening cheers. “So… how about I sing it for you?”

She slung her guitar strap over her shoulder, from where a stage hand had conveniently placed it, and stepped up to the mic, ready and waiting to start.

“Now, I wrote this song about a very special someone.” Again, the crowd whooped, clearly ecstatic at the mere thought of romance.

“And I hope they hear this song, and-” She strummed the first chord. “Well- understand how I feel.”

The venue went berserk, and she smiled out at them, amused. And then, she sang.

“There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place...”

The music flowed over her, before seeping into her very bones, filling her with reverence. With peace.

“Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…”

Her eyes stayed closed throughout the whole song, fingers finding the strings with practised ease. In the inside of her eyelids, she saw an imprint of him.

That man, the one that consumed her dreams, the one who hijacked her songs. The one with the soft, kind eyes—that really looked at her, into her, like he saw all of her fears, aspirations, and every waking thought.

Those two encounters, as brief as they were, somehow etched themselves right into her brain. As pathetic as it sounded, she couldn’t think of anything else, and it was eating her from the inside out.

She begged to whatever deities existed to put them back into each other's path once again, no matter how improbable that was.

“Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you.”

The last chord faded, and she broke from her reverie, shaking herself out of her stupor. Was she really begging to meet that guy again? That was seriously next level. She didn't know his name, had never even said a proper word to him, and she was fawning like a schoolgirl.

She stifled a groan. She had definitely lost the plot.

She plastered a smile back on her face, and continued her show without a hitch, pointedly choosing to not think about the mystery man, and instead focus on her music.

It was more important. Always and forever. She couldn’t afford to pine over a man she had only seen twice. No. Her music was the most significant factor in her life, not silly things like love and romance. She had tried that, and it never ended well.

Her most recent ex was a perfect example of why relationships aren’t worth it. She threw away three years of her life to that lying, cheating scumbag.

For now, she was sticking to perfecting her craft, and nothing would distract her from that. She would just have to force herself to forget about the mystery man. Erase him from her brain.

Pretend he never existed in the first place. It's not like she would ever see him again, anyways, no matter what higher beings she tried to appease.

~☆~

By the time she returned to her hotel, ‘Enchanted’ was available for streaming as her newest single. So far, it was a hit, but there was an overwhelming amount of speculation about who the song was about. She was, honestly, wondering the same thing.

She had told herself that she would completely forget about him, but he was still there, in the very back of her mind, intruding in her thoughts. She couldn’t make him leave, no matter what she tried.

She fell onto the bed, took one of the crisp, white hotel pillows, and pressed it into her face, before letting out a shrill scream.

Yeah, she was most definitely going insane.

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

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Tags: @reidology13 @reidmania @navs-bhat @iheartshopping @dreamsarebig <3 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

[bratzkoo]

WGM episode 7 | dk

episode 7: photoshoot

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 2.9k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. cursing, seokmin curses a lot in his head.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows, @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist series masterlist | previous episode | next episode

[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 6, showing their decoration adventure and resolved argument over the rug]

Narrator: "After successfully creating their cozy love nest, our newlyweds are taking their relationship public with a special photoshoot for a popular magazine!"

---

Seokmin sat in the makeup chair, trying not to fidget as the stylist applied what felt like the seventeenth layer of something to his face. He was no stranger to photoshoots—they were a regular part of idol life—but this was different. This was a couple photoshoot. With Y/N. For a major magazine.

The PD had informed them last week that they'd been selected as the featured couple for _Newlywed Life_ magazine's monthly spotlight. Apparently, their "We Got Married" pairing had been generating significant buzz online, with viewers particularly taken by Seokmin's impromptu wedding song and their cooking disaster turned success.

"You're very popular," the PD had said, looking smugly satisfied with the ratings. "The public is invested in your love story."

Love story. The phrase made Seokmin's stomach twist with a complicated mix of emotions. Because the problem—the increasingly undeniable problem—was that he was starting to forget this was all fabricated for television.

"You're thinking too loudly," came a familiar voice, and Seokmin's eyes flew open to see Y/N being led to the makeup chair beside his. "I can practically hear the internal screaming from across the room."

"That obvious, huh?" Seokmin asked, managing a smile despite the riot of butterflies her presence instantly triggered.

"Only to someone who's spent six episodes watching your every facial expression," Y/N replied lightly. "Your ears are also a dead giveaway. They're already turning pink."

Seokmin's hands flew up to cover his treacherous ears. "They're just... warm from the lights."

"Sure they are," Y/N teased, settling into her chair as the makeup artist began working on her. "Nothing to do with being nervous about the shoot."

"Why would I be nervous?" Seokmin asked with exaggerated innocence. "It's just a nationally distributed magazine where we'll be portrayed as a loving couple with potentially millions of people analyzing our body language and chemistry. Totally casual."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his cardiac rhythm even after all this time. "When you put it that way, it sounds completely reasonable to panic."

"I'm not panicking," Seokmin protested. "This is my calm, collected pre-panic state. The actual panicking comes later, right before the camera starts clicking."

The makeup artist working on him sighed dramatically. "Please stop making expressions while I'm trying to contour."

"Sorry," Seokmin apologized, attempting to arrange his features into a neutral mask. "I'll just sit here expressionless like a good idol."

"Impossible," Y/N commented. "You're physically incapable of having no expression. Your face has two settings: extremely animated or asleep."

"I can be stoic!" Seokmin insisted, attempting to demonstrate with what he hoped was a serious, brooding look.

Y/N burst out laughing. "You look constipated."

"Perfect!" Seokmin declared. "That's exactly the vibe I was going for in this photoshoot. 'Local idol appears constipated next to his gorgeous fake wife.' It'll be revolutionary."

Both makeup artists were now giving them exasperated looks, though Seokmin caught the whisper of "They're so cute together" from one to the other.

If only they knew the truth. Except lately, Seokmin wasn't entirely sure what the truth was anymore.

---

An hour later, they were ushered onto the set where the photographer and creative team waited. The concept, they were told, was "Domestic Bliss"—capturing the sweet, intimate moments of newlywed life.

"We want natural, authentic interactions," the photographer explained. "Forget the cameras are there. Just focus on each other."

Focus on each other. That wouldn't be difficult. Seokmin already found it nearly impossible to focus on anything else when Y/N was in the room.

She looked breathtaking in a simple white dress, her hair styled in soft waves, makeup natural and glowing. Seokmin himself had been dressed in light beige slacks and a blue button-up shirt, sleeves casually rolled to his elbows. They looked like they'd walked straight out of a romance drama.

"The first setup is in the kitchen," the photographer continued, leading them to a beautifully arranged kitchen set. "We're recreating your famous carbonara success."

Seokmin and Y/N exchanged amused looks. Their "famous" carbonara had become something of a running joke between them, with Y/N regularly texting him photos of pasta dishes she encountered with captions like "not as good as ours" or "they clearly didn't respect the egg yolks."

"Remember," the photographer said as they took their positions, "natural and intimate. Like you're cooking together on a lazy Sunday morning."

Natural and intimate. In front of fifteen crew members, three cameras, and the PD watching from the sidelines. TOTALLY NATURAL.

As the first shots began, Seokmin found himself hyper-aware of every movement, every expression. He'd done countless photoshoots before, but never one where he had to pretend to be in love with his co-star. The pressure to appear convincing was overwhelming.

"You're too stiff," the photographer called out after several shots. "Loosen up! You're supposed to be comfortable with each other."

Y/N sidled closer to Seokmin, speaking low enough that only he could hear. "Remember our actual cooking disaster? When you added enough gochujang to burn a hole through the pot?"

Despite his nerves, Seokmin laughed at the memory. "Or when you insisted that 'a pinch of salt' meant literally one pinch for the entire dish?"

"Hey, cooking instructions are unnecessarily vague," Y/N defended herself, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Perfect!" the photographer exclaimed, capturing their genuine moment of laughter. "More like that!"

And just like that, the ice was broken. As they moved through different poses—stirring a pot together, Y/N pretending to feed Seokmin a taste of something, Seokmin playfully dabbing flour on Y/N's nose—the awkwardness gradually faded. They fell into the easy rhythm they'd developed over the past few months, the banter and gentle teasing that had become second nature.

"Now let's move to the living room set," the photographer directed after they'd captured enough kitchen shots.

The living room setup was designed to look cozy and intimate, with a plush sofa, soft blankets, and warm lighting. This, Seokmin realized with a flutter of nerves, was where things would get more physically affectionate.

"For this series, we want to capture those sweet, quiet moments couples share," the photographer explained. "Reading together, cuddling, just being close."

Cuddling. The word sent a jolt through Seokmin's system. They'd maintained a careful physical distance throughout most of their filming, with only occasional hand-holding and the cheek kiss at the wedding. This would be new territory.

"Is that okay?" the photographer asked, seeming to sense their hesitation.

"Of course," Y/N replied smoothly, though Seokmin caught a hint of pink in her cheeks. "We're professionals."

Professionals. Right. This was just work. Not at all an excuse to hold Y/N close without the awkwardness of having to initiate it himself.

They settled on the couch, initially sitting with a respectable few inches between them. The photographer frowned.

"Closer," he directed. "You're supposed to be married, not strangers on a bus."

Y/N scooted closer, until their sides were pressed together. Seokmin could feel the warmth of her through his shirt, could smell her perfume—something light and floral that had become achingly familiar.

"Still too formal," the photographer sighed. "Seokmin, put your arm around her. Y/N, lean into him like he's your favorite pillow."

Oh god. This is fine. This is normal. Just a normal day pretending to cuddle with the woman you're definitely not developing real feelings for. COMPLETELY FINE.

Seokmin carefully placed his arm around Y/N's shoulders, hyperaware of every point of contact between them. She hesitated for just a moment before relaxing against him, her head finding a spot against his shoulder that somehow felt perfectly natural, as if they'd sat this way a hundred times before.

"Much better," the photographer approved. "Now look at each other like you're sharing a secret."

They turned their faces toward each other, and Seokmin's breath caught in his throat. Y/N was so close—close enough that he could see the individual flecks of color in her eyes, the slight imperfections in her makeup that only made her more beautiful. For a moment, he forgot about the cameras, the crew, the pretense of it all.

"Hi," Y/N whispered, a small, almost shy smile playing at her lips.

"Hi," Seokmin whispered back, momentarily lost in the unreality of the moment.

"Perfect!" the photographer exclaimed, the camera clicking rapidly. "That connection! Hold that!"

Connection. Was it still acting when it felt this real?

They moved through several more poses on the couch—Y/N reading a book while Seokmin looked over her shoulder, both of them laughing over something on a prop tablet, Seokmin pretending to play with Y/N's hair while she closed her eyes in contentment. With each setup, the initial awkwardness faded further, replaced by a comfortable intimacy that scared Seokmin with how natural it felt.

"Last set," the photographer announced. "The bedroom."

Seokmin nearly choked on air. "B-bedroom?"

"Nothing inappropriate," the photographer clarified quickly, catching their expressions. "Just morning coffee in bed, maybe looking at a laptop together. Wholesome newlywed stuff."

The bedroom set was tastefully arranged with plush white bedding, soft pillows, and warm lighting. Despite the photographer's assurances, Seokmin felt his heart rate spike at the thought of being in bed—any bed, even a prop one—with Y/N.

"Shoes off," the photographer directed. "And get comfortable against the headboard."

Seokmin slipped off his shoes and cautiously climbed onto the bed, hyperaware of every crease he made in the perfectly arranged comforter. Y/N followed, settling beside him with what appeared to be casual ease, though he noticed her careful maintenance of a few inches of space between them.

"Perfect. Now, Y/N, lean against Seokmin's chest. Seokmin, one arm around her while you both look at this laptop."

This is fine. Just work. Professional actors being professional. The fact that my heart is about to beat out of my chest is completely unrelated to anything happening right now.

Y/N shifted, leaning back against him tentatively. Seokmin wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to appear natural while fighting the urge to either freeze completely still or pull her closer.

"Relax," the photographer called. "You look like you're posing with a mannequin, not your wife."

Y/N turned her head slightly to whisper to him. "Your heart is racing. Are you okay?"

She could feel his heartbeat. Of course she could. She was pressed against his chest.

"Just... warm under these lights," Seokmin lied poorly.

"Mmhmm," Y/N hummed skeptically, but she mercifully didn't push the issue.

Instead, she surprised him by fully relaxing against him, her body softening as she sank more naturally into his embrace. The gesture of trust—even if just for the cameras—made something warm bloom in his chest.

"There we go," the photographer approved. "Now look at something on the laptop together—like you're planning a trip or reminiscing about photos."

They pretended to scroll through vacation destinations, making genuine comments about places they'd each like to visit someday. The conversation flowed easily, almost making Seokmin forget they were being photographed.

"Last few shots," the photographer announced. "Looking at each other, like you've just woken up and you're happy to see each other's faces."

They set the laptop aside and turned toward each other. In this position, lying on their sides facing one another, the intimacy was undeniable. There was nowhere to hide, no way to create distance without being obvious.

Y/N's eyes met his, soft and warm in the golden lighting. She smiled—not her camera smile or her professional smile, but something smaller and more genuine that made Seokmin's chest ache with longing.

"Just like that," the photographer said softly, the camera clicking gently in the background. "Perfect."

For a suspended moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, looking at each other with an honesty that transcended the artifice of their situation.

Then the photographer called, "That's a wrap!" and reality came rushing back in.

---

Later, as they changed back into their regular clothes and removed the layers of makeup, Seokmin found himself struggling to regain his emotional equilibrium. The shoot had felt too real, too close to the feelings he was desperately trying to keep contained.

"That was... something," Y/N said as they waited for the PD to finish discussing details with the magazine staff.

"Yeah," Seokmin agreed eloquently, still not fully trusting himself to speak normally.

"You were really good," she continued. "Very natural. I almost believed we were actually married at some points."

Seokmin tried to laugh, but it came out slightly strangled. "All those performance classes finally paying off."

Y/N gave him a curious look, something unreadable in her expression. "Right. Performance."

Before she could say more, the PD approached them. "Great work today! The magazine loved the shots. They want one more thing, though—a couple selca taken by you two for their social media."

"We can handle that," Y/N said, pulling out her phone. "We're practically selca experts at this point."

They positioned themselves against a plain wall, Y/N holding the phone out in front of them. Seokmin automatically put his arm around her shoulders, the gesture now familiar after hours of similar poses.

"Smile!" Y/N directed, but just before she took the photo, she turned and pressed a quick, light kiss to Seokmin's cheek.

The resulting photo captured his perfect look of surprised delight, eyes wide and a brilliant smile breaking across his face as Y/N kissed his cheek with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"That'll get the fans talking," she said casually, showing the photo to the PD, who approved enthusiastically.

"Definitely using that one," the PD agreed. "Great initiative!"

As the PD walked away, Seokmin touched his cheek where Y/N had kissed him. "A little warning next time?" he asked, aiming for teasing but landing closer to breathless.

"Where's the fun in that?" Y/N replied with a smile. "Your genuine reactions are always the best."

For the show, Seokmin reminded himself. It was all for the show. The kiss, the closeness, the casual affection—just creating content for the viewers, feeding the narrative of their fake marriage.

So why did it feel so real?

---

That evening, as Seokmin arrived back at the dorm, he found several of his members gathered in the common area, clearly waiting for him.

"How was the couple photoshoot?" Jeonghan asked with a knowing smirk.

"Fine," Seokmin replied, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. "Very professional. Normal workday."

"Then why are your ears the color of kimchi?" Seungkwan observed mercilessly.

"It's hot outside," Seokmin protested weakly.

"It's literally raining and 15 degrees," Joshua pointed out.

Seokmin groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "I'm not discussing this."

"Discussing what?" Mingyu asked innocently. "Your completely professional, not-at-all-emotionally-complicated relationship with your fake wife?"

"Exactly that," Seokmin confirmed, throwing an arm over his face. "Nothing to discuss because it's just work."

There was a moment of suspicious silence before his phone buzzed with a notification. Automatically, he pulled it out to check.

It was from Y/N—the selca they'd taken, now posted on the magazine's Instagram account with the caption: "Love is in the air! Exclusive couple photoshoot with #WeGotMarried's favorite newlyweds coming in our next issue! #RelationshipGoals"

The members, who had naturally crowded around to see his phone, erupted in a chorus of teasing sounds.

"Just work, huh?" Hoshi said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"That's called method acting," Seokmin insisted, even as his ears burned hotter. "Creating content for the viewers."

"Method acting usually stops when the cameras turn off," Woozi pointed out unhelpfully. "That kiss looks pretty genuine to me."

"It was for the photo!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Jeonghan said, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "But maybe start thinking about what happens when the show ends."

When the show ends. The thought sent a chill through Seokmin that he wasn't prepared to examine.

Later that night, alone in his room, he found himself staring at the selca again. Y/N looked so natural beside him, so right. The casual affection of her kiss, the genuine surprise and happiness on his face—it didn't look staged or performed. It looked... real.

His phone buzzed with a new message.

Y/N: Magazine editor says we "have amazing chemistry" and wants to feature us in next month's issue too. We must be better actors than we thought.

Actors. Right. That's all this was.

Seokmin: My years of variety show training are finally paying off.

Y/N: The cheek kiss was genius, if I do say so myself. #ContentCreation

Seokmin: Very sneaky. Didn't peg you for the surprise attack type.

Y/N: There's a lot you still don't know about me, fake husband. 😉

That winking emoji would be the death of him.

Seokmin: Looking forward to discovering all your sneaky tactics over the next few episodes.

Y/N: Be prepared. I'm full of surprises.

Seokmin set his phone down, a complicated mix of emotions swirling in his chest. With each episode, each text, each moment spent together, the line between reality and pretend was becoming increasingly blurred. The problem wasn't that he couldn't tell the difference anymore.

The problem was that he didn't want to.