#certified uh oh moment

[pixellangel]

ive been discovered by the mundie terrorist group. uh oh

[pucksandpower]

Rockabye Baby

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: you and Oscar take the next step in building your family … just not in the way that anyone expected

Note: I really wanted to get something silly and cute posted for Mother’s Day — and so this was born! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🫶

You snuggle closer to Oscar in bed, resting your head on his chest as his fingers lazily trail up and down your arm. It’s been an exhausting few weeks on the road, with races back-to-back, but these quiet moments together make it all worth it.

“Osc?” You murmur sleepily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, babe.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything.”

You hesitate, not sure if you should broach the subject. But you’ve been together for years now, surely he’s thought about it too? “Have you ever, you know … thought about having kids?”

Oscar tenses slightly, his fingers stilling on your skin. “Kids?”

“Yeah.” You prop yourself up on one elbow to study his face. “We’re not getting any younger. And I know racing is your whole life, but … I don’t know, I think you’d make an amazing dad.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You do, huh?” His fingers resume their gentle stroking along your arm. “I can’t lie, the idea terrifies me. All the responsibility, the pressure ...” He blows out a long breath. “But with you by my side? I think we could make it work.”

Hope blooms in your chest and you lean in to kiss him, long and lingering. “Really? You mean that?”

“Well, not right this second.” He chuckles, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “But someday? Definitely.”

You beam at him, buzzing with a childlike excitement you haven’t felt in years. “Oscar Piastri, future father. I can’t wait.��

He pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. “Me neither. Now get some rest, yeah? Big day tomorrow.”

You hum contentedly, letting his steady heartbeat lull you toward sleep. Kids with Oscar … you can’t imagine anything better.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the sofa after a long day of work, idly scrolling through your phone while Oscar pads around the flat. He’s been oddly restless and fidgety all evening, but you’ve learned not to question his little quirks. He’ll open up when he’s ready.

“So,” he begins, sinking onto the couch beside you with an adorably nervous expression. “You know how the other night you mentioned, um … wanting to be a mum someday?”

You perk up instantly, setting your phone aside as your pulse kicks up a notch. “Yeah?”

“Well.” He ducks his head shyly, then pulls something from behind his back — a small, smooth rock, painted in garish shades of papaya. “I got you this.”

You blink at him. “A … rock?”

“It’s our baby!” He thrusts it toward you proudly. “See, I’m the dad now. Taking those first steps.”

A startled laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Oscar, you dork. That’s the cutest, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Too much?” He grimaces, though his eyes are twinkling with barely contained mirth. “I just thought, you know, we could start small. Get used to the idea before, uh, before anything bigger.”

“Oh my god, I love you.” You take the rock from his hand, cradling it tenderly as you peck his cheek. “Hi there, little guy. Hope you don’t mind a slightly non-traditional family.”

“Not at all.” Oscar drapes his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. “We’ll just raise him to be open-minded and accepting. Like his mum.”

“His mum who gave birth to him in pebble form, you mean?”

Oscar shrugs unapologetically. “He’ll be the talk of the playground.”

You dissolve into helpless giggles, nestling even closer. “This is certifiably insane, you know that? I can’t believe we’re grown adults playing house with a pet rock.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” Oscar nuzzles into the crook of your neck, warm and solid against you. “We’re new parents. We can do whatever we want.”

Over the next few days, Rocky, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, becomes a constant presence. You bring him along when you travel to the next race, introducing him proudly to the team. Lando takes one look and bursts out laughing.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?”

“Our son,” Oscar says with a straight face. “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

“You two are properly mental.” But there’s an unmistakable fondness in Lando’s smile as he gently pokes at Rocky. “S’pose he takes after his dad, eh?”

You crack up at the offended look on Oscar’s face. “Oh, trust me, I’ll be handling most of the heavy lifting around here.”

From there, it only escalates. Rocky gets his own tiny race suit, his own seat in Oscar’s car (firmly buckled in, of course — safety first). You find yourself referring to him with increasingly outlandish endearments.

“Here, let me get the handsomest stone in the whole wide world a bottle before we try tummy time.”

“How’s my little pebble today? Did you sleep okay in your bassinet?”

Logan nearly falls over laughing the first time he sees Rocky strapped into a miniature car seat on the plane between races.

“You guys are too much, man.” He shakes his head in bewildered amusement. “Where do you even find stuff like that?”

Oscar smirks. “Parents have their ways.”

The joke takes on a life of its own, morphing from a silly gag into a full-blown inside joke, an ever-present reminder that someday, when you’re both ready, you really will have a baby of your own to dote on. For now, though, raising Rocky together is more than enough.

It really hits you one evening as the team celebrates Oscar’s latest podium finish. You’re sitting with a small group, letting the lively chatter of friends and team members wash over you, when you become aware of Oscar sitting across from you. He’s got Rocky nestled in the crook of his elbow, cooing nonsense as he gently jostles him.

“Who’s a good little guy? You are, that’s who. Gonna grow up big and strong like your dad, yeah?” His expression is so tender, so achingly soft, that you feel your heart swell fit to burst.

He’s going to be an incredible father someday, you realize with a jolt of startling clarity. Look at how natural it comes to him, how happy and content he seems, just cradling that silly rock.

Later that night, you find yourself curled around Oscar in bed, trailing feather-light kisses along the line of his throat. He hums deep in his chest, tangling one hand in your hair to tug you closer.

“Mmm, what was that for?”

“Nothing.” You prop your chin on his chest, drinking in the achingly handsome lines of his face. “You just … you’re gonna be such an amazing dad, you know that?”

A bashful smile tugs at his lips as his free hand smooths along the curve of your hip. “Yeah? You really think so?”

“I know so.” You reach out to trace the sharp line of his jaw with one fingertip. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s gaze softens to molten gold in the dim light. “Not nearly as lucky as we are to have you. You’re the best mum Rocky could’ve asked for.”

He kisses you then, deep and searing, pulling you flush against him as the world around you falls away. And when he finally breaks away, breathless but beaming, you know without a shadow of a doubt:

Whenever the time comes, whenever you meet your real baby … everything is going to be okay. More than okay.

Because you’ll have Oscar by your side, just like always. Your partner, your best friend, and the love of your life.

***

Five Years Later

You cradle your newborn daughter to your chest, gazing down at her perfect little face in pure wonderment. It’s only been a few hours since she made her entrance into the world, but you’re already hopelessly in love.

“She’s beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, voice thick with unshed tears as he brushes one reverent fingertip along her downy cheek. “Just like her mum.”

You lean into him, overcome. This right here — the two of you and your brand new baby girl — is everything you’ve ever wanted. All those years of loving Oscar, of dreaming about starting a family together … it was all leading to this shining moment.

A soft knock at the door breaks the tranquil silence. Oscar shoots you a quizzical look as a familiar face pokes his head in.

“This a bad time?” Lando grins crookedly. “I come bearing gifts for the little one.”

“Lando!” You can’t help but beam at the sight of your friend. “Get in here, you muppet.”

He slips inside, toeing off his shoes with a cheeky wink in your direction. “Well someone’s in a good mood. Can’t imagine why.”

“Are you kidding? I’m amazing. Completely knackered, but amazing.” You gesture for him to come closer with your free hand. “Here, come meet Oscar’s little co-driver.”

Lando’s expression melts into something unbearably soft as he peers down at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Aww, mate … she’s perfect. Well done, you two.”

“Do you, uh ...” Oscar clears his throat gruffly. “D’you want to hold her?”

For a moment, Lando looks almost scared, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he nods jerkily, settling into the bedside chair with surprising care as you transfer your daughter into his arms. He cradles her close with the utmost tenderness, rocking her ever so slightly as she lets out the faintest sigh.

“Look at you,” he breathes, sounding utterly besotted already. “Just a teeny little thing, aren’t you?”

It’s like seeing an entirely different side of him, one you never could have anticipated. Not the cheeky, irreverent joker you’ve known for years, but a man, a friend, wholly disarmed by new life and possibility. You exchange a look with Oscar, heart fit to bursting.

“So,” Lando continues, still totally entranced by the baby. “I know we ribbed you mercilessly for a while there about the whole rock baby thing ...”

Your mouth falls open in recollection. “Lando, please don’t-”

But he’s already reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a familiar splash of textured papaya. “But there’s no way I’d let my favorite nephew miss out on this.”

Rocky, battered and faded but unmistakable, sits nestled in Lando’s palm. You nearly choke on a startled laugh.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hold up, there’s more.” Lando somehow manages to keep cradling the baby with one arm as he bends down with the other, hauling a plastic bucket onto the bed. You gape at the contents — dozens upon dozens of smooth pebbles, each one lovingly decorated in bright shades of orange.

“Had to get the whole family involved, didn’t I?” Lando says with a shameless grin. “She’s got loads of brothers and sisters to look after her now.”

You swat at him in a flood of exasperated affection. “You absolute prick. Look at you, being all sentimental.”

“Me? Never.” But the shine of unshed tears in his eyes contradicts the words. He transfers the baby back to you with exaggerated care, then takes a moment to stroke one gentle finger along her tiny cheek. “You’ve got one hell of a village behind you, little one.”

Over the next short while, Lando pulls up a chair and regales you all with outrageous stories and anecdotes, all while Rocky and his “siblings“ make the rounds, passed from person to person like favorite old friends. At one point, Oscar’s cradling your human baby in one arm and your original baby rock in the other, murmuring nonsense to them both as you blink back tears for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

“Look at you,” you say in awe, drinking in the sight. “My little family.”

Oscar meets your gaze over the top of your daughter’s head, his own eyes shining. “Our family,” he corrects softly.

You’re still reveling in that realization when a quiet knock sounds at the door. A nurse bustles in with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we’re going to need to move the baby to the nursery soon. Just for a little while to let mum rest.”

Oh. You clutch your daughter closer on instinct, chest caving with an aching reluctance you weren’t expecting. How can you possibly bear to let her go already?

But then Lando slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oi, it’s alright. We’ll keep an eye on her for you, yeah? Give Uncle Lando and Mini Piastri some quality time.”

Rocky sits nestled in his other palm, as stalwart and patient as ever even after all these years. You nod quickly, swiping at your damp cheeks as you kiss your daughter’s downy head one last time before relinquishing her to the nurse.

“I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Don’t go growing too much while I’m gone.”

Watching her get wheeled away is harder than you could have imagined, like a physical ache in your chest. Oscar wraps you up in his arms from behind, steadying you with his usual quiet strength.

“She’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hairline. “She’s just down the hall. We’re not going anywhere.”

You let his soothing words wash over you, turning into his embrace until your breathing evens out again. First lesson of parenthood learned — this part’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, just like everything else, with Oscar by your side.

Rocky sits on the bedside table, bold colors slightly faded but message as bright and clear as ever. A reminder that sometimes, the smallest, silliest things can take on the biggest meaning when it comes to family.

“Alright lovebirds,” Lando pipes up, slinging an arm around each of your shoulders. “What d’you say we bring the whole crew down to see the little miss soon, eh? Give her many uncles a chance to swoon all over her?”

You manage a watery chuckle, leaning into Lando’s side as Oscar tucks himself against your other side. Because this? This little patchwork family you’ve built around yourselves, kept close through all the chaos and the years? This is what it’s all about. The fierce loyalty, the bond forged by adversity and triumph and teamwork. The family you’ve chosen over and over again, year after year, through all of life’s twists and turns.

Your eyes drift to Rocky, resting quietly on the nightstand by your hospital bed. Once an inside joke, a silly gift from your husband to make you smile. Now a treasured heirloom, a precious mascot for the latest member of your ever-expanding clan.

Maybe you’ll hold onto that little rock for another few decades, you muse, draping one arm around Oscar’s trim waist. Long enough for your daughter — and any other little ones who may eventually join her — to grow up passing him between chubby baby fists. Long enough for your grandchildren to gather around and listen to stories about.

“Come on then,” you’ll say with an indulgent smile. “Let Granny tell you the story of Rocky. How he was the very first baby in our little family ...”

***

r/offmychest

u/NumberOneRockHater · 9h

My parents and entire family are convinced a ROCK is my older brother!

Okay, I have to get this off my chest because it’s been driving me crazy for years. My parents and extended family are all obsessed with this rock that they insist is my older brother “Rocky” (ugh, I know).

I’m talking full-on delusion levels here. Ever since before I was born, my dad got my mom this painted rock as a joke “baby”. Well, the joke escalated to the point where they started taking this rock everywhere, dressing it up in little outfits, calling it “him”, the whole nine yards.

At first I thought it was just a weird little quirk, you know? Silly but harmless. Except it never stopped. I’m 16 years old now and my PARENTS STILL REFER TO THIS ROCK AS MY SIBLING.

It’s always “Where’s your brother?” and “Did you pack Rocky’s bag for our trip?” and “Don’t forget to wish your brother a happy birthday!” My uncle (who is the WORST enabler) will show up to every family event pulling more painted rocks out of his pockets like “Look, more kids for you guys!”

Meanwhile I’m just standing there like a crazy person. How is nobody else concerned that my entire family has deluded themselves into believing a literal inanimate object is a sentient being?

And the real kicker? This dumb rock has been passed around and adored more than me, an actual human child. I have clear memories of being like 6 years old and my parents getting legitimately UPSET at me for dropping Rocky on the ground. While I’m standing right there!

My dad loves telling this stupid story about the day I was born, how my uncle showed up at the hospital like “I brought the baby’s siblings!” and pulled out an entire bucket of painted pebbles. PEBBLES, PEOPLE. As my “brothers and sisters”?

I’m honestly losing my mind here. No matter how much I protest or roll my eyes, they always play it off as a silly inside joke. Like yeah, I’m sure getting your knickers in a twist over my lack of acknowledgment for THE ROCK YOU NAMED AND CLAIM IS MY SIBLING is a totally normal thing to do! My mum actually teared up the last time I put my foot down, saying she could never abandon her “firstborn.” Um, hello? I was the firstborn, you weirdos!

At this point, I have to assume that either A) My parents and family are all certifiable and living in a shared psychosis, or B) This is some sort of Truman Show situational prank that I’m not in on.

Is it too late to be adopted by a normal family? Or do I need to be the one committed for dealing with this nonsense?

Please tell me I’m not actually going insane here. Anybody else have a family this completely deluded?

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u/NosyAndProud · 8h

LOL no way, your family sounds hilarious! I’m dying at the image of your poor teen self dealing with this ongoing rocky sibling chronicle. But in their defense, you’ve gotta admit it’s a pretty creative way to memorialize a dumb inside joke, right?

My advice? Lean into it. Get your big brother an outfit for the next family gathering. Play fight with “him” in front of your friends and horrify them. TP the house and blame it on Rocky’s delinquent behavior. The possibilities for messing with everyone are endless!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 6h

I’m honestly crying, your suggestions have me wheezing! Although if I DID embrace this, I’m pretty sure my uncle would lose his mind. He’s already brought enough “rock siblings” for an entire pebble daycare at this point.

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u/JudgingLoudly · 7h

This is sending me! I’m just imagining you as a little kid, trying to argue with your parents about why inanimate objects can’t actually be siblings. And them being full-on “Well ackshually, this is Rocky your brother” 🤓☝️

But also lowkey it’s kinda sweet? I mean objectifying nonliving things is usually a bad idea (see every Disney movie ever). But if it’s just a quirky tradition that brings your family joy and makes them feel special, who are we to judge? You only get one weird childhood!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 5h

Yes, exactly! It was always “But Rocky will be so disappointed if you don’t share your toys with him!” Like … what?

And don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful parents and we’re a very close, loving family. That’s what makes this particular shared psychosis so baffling! Just a big ol’ collective break from reality to obsess over this stupid rock, I guess.

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u/LiveForDrama · 4h

Ok but real talk, I would give ANYTHING to have been a fly on the wall when your uncle first unveiled the “siblings” 💀 I’m picturing this grown man deadass pulling pebbles out of his pockets and ceremoniously announcing “Here’s baby Pumice, and little Granite, and this one is called Basalt ...”

And your parents were just like “Why, HELLO THERE LITTLE ONES! WHAT DELIGHTFUL NEW ADDITIONS TO OUR BROOD!” Just … no questions asked. No commentary on the total insanity. God, I love families.

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 3h

You have NO idea. I still have flashbulb memories of being like 10 years old, walking into the living room to find my GROWN-ASS UNCLE lying on the floor, lining up those idiotic pebbles and introducing them one by one.

Meanwhile my dad is on the couch COOING at them and having full-on conversations like “Isn’t that right, little fella? Your uncle just loves to spoil you, doesn’t he?” MY BRAIN COULD NOT COMPUTE.

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u/GlassHalfFull · 2h

Ok, gotta say … as someone raised by very boring, no-nonsense parents, I’m just a lil bit jealous of the sheer unrestrained WHIMSY your family has cultivated here.

Like, you’ll always have this hilarious shared experience to look back on! Sure it’s a rock, but it’s THEIR rock, you know? That’s beautiful in a weird way. At least your childhood wasn’t mind-numbing evenings full of tax documents and khaki pantsuits?

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 1h

Haha, you make a good point! I definitely can’t say my childhood was dull, that’s for sure. Although I do have traumatic memories of losing Rocky at a rest stop when I was 5, and my parents freaking out for hours until we found him under a vending machine. Totally normal.

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[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 17.4k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, some mild angst, model jeno, journalist reader, reader is lowkey a bit of a jerk for some of it but for understandable reasons ❧ extra info: this is a reworked version of an old fic of mine that was about a former member. since i still really love the fic, i’ve made some (heavy) edits to re-release it about jeno instead. you can consider this the spiritual successor/an alternate universe to my sleepless cinderella series

You’d finally gone insane, you’d decided. Absolutely bonkers, completely crazy. After all, how else would you explain the fact that you were now kissing Jeno?

You felt absolutely pathetic. You were a journalist at a rather popular magazine, and your editor had finally entrusted you with a centerfold spot. So far, your word document for your article had less than a handful of words: your name. Writer’s block, and with only two months until copies were supposed to hit the shelves.

And so here you were, sitting on the small couch in your boss’ office, trying not to sound like you were whining to her. But you needed some sort of guidance. Ms. Zhang was sat on the other end of the couch from you, legs crossed, and round frames perched on the end of her nose as she thoughtfully listened to your rant.

Her voice was casual as she simply replied with, “Anything new in your life, Y/N?”

Which was a complete non-sequitur from your desperate plea for a subject. She really just wanted to make small talk while you were having an existential crisis?

Stunned, you blinked for a moment before answering, “Uh, not much. My roommate made me go out to this party a while ago.”

“That’s nice. Did you have fun?”

You were still completely unsure of why she wasn’t addressing your issue, but went along with it, nonetheless, “I guess.”

“Meet anyone?”

“Kind of. Seven someones, technically.”

“Oh?”

Realizing how that sounded, you grimaced to yourself before giving your boss an explanation of the actual situation. Your roommate NingNing had dragged you to the grand opening of a new nightclub, which she got an invite to thanks to her huge social media following. She was possibly the only actually down-to-Earth influencer you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty, thanks to her. The two of you had been friends since you were kids, before you entered into completely different lives as adults. You had a 9 to 5 while she was being paid insane amounts of money by luxury brands just to post a single photo of herself with their product.

The nightclub of course had a VIP section at the back, which NingNing was easily given access to, as well as you, her plus-one. It was there that you were introduced to Mark Lee, an up and coming young actor with a practically cult following online; Huang Renjun, an extremely popular video game streamer and YouTuber; Lee Jeno, an actual supermodel whose visage was across some of the biggest billboards in the city; Haechan, a pop star that you didn’t dare address by anything other than his stage name; Na Jaemin, another streamer and YouTuber who had recently been picked up for a modeling contract; Zhong Chenle, heir to the Zhong family fortune, whose family was involved in anything and everything to do with the entertainment industry and owned the nightclub; and Park Jisung, an influencer more in the same vein as NingNing, with millions of Instagram followers. Apparently, you had made a good enough impression that Chenle gave you your own pass to the VIP lounge—NingNing of course had her own, too.

At the end of your story, Ms. Zhang had a worryingly knowing smile across her lips, “You met seven celebrities in one night?”

“Do influencers and streamers really count as celebrities?”

“You met seven very popular men—three or four of whom are certifiable celebrities—in one night, have access to a private lounge they all frequent, and you still don’t have a subject for your article?”

Your jaw may have dropped slightly as you realized this. Immediately, your face turned hot as you refused the idea, “I don’t want to exploit them and make them uncomfortable somewhere that’s supposed to be free from that kind of stuff.”

She frowned as she shook her head, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N. I thought you understood that journalism isn’t inherently exploitative.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not—”

“Are you going to publish horrible rumors and tabloid things with private information they don’t want to be out there? Is that what we do here?”

“No, but they’re all going to think that’s what I’ll do.”

“Show them those assumptions are wrong. It’s all in the way you carry yourself. If you are honest and humble and make them feel comfortable, they should have no reason to doubt what kind of journalist you are.”

At this point, you felt like melting into the pinstriped couch cushions in shame. You shouldn’t have doubted your boss’ vision for her magazine or demeaned your own career. And now you’d made Ms. Zhang disappointed in you. You would’ve preferred her to have yelled at you.

All that was left was to make her proud.

Three days later and you still hadn’t returned to the lounge.

Honestly, you were just being a chicken. And a procrastinator. A procrastinating chicken.

Slumped into your armchair in your living room, you blankly zoned off into the distance as you listened to your playlist through an earbud. NingNing was perched on your kitchen table, feet swinging off the side as she edited some photos on her phone.

As she tapped away, you found your gaze fixating on the visage on the cover of a magazine that had been resting on your coffee table. Squinting your eyes curiously and tilting your head to the side, you asked, “He kind of looks like a dog, right?”

“Who?” Your roommate raised a concerned eyebrow as she peered over her phone screen at you.

“Lee Jeno.” You held up the magazine. “He kind of looks like a dog. Right?”

Your friend squinted at the cover then gave you that same look, “No, he doesn’t. Y/N, I think the sleep deprivation has finally gotten to you. You’re delirious.”

“No, I swear, he looks like a dog,” you insisted, pulling your earbud out to be able to better argue your point. “A very specific kind of dog, God, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“He doesn’t.”

You crossed your arms. “I bet the others would agree with me.”

“You want to go ask them?” She challenged. “Jisung texted me saying they were all going to be there again tonight.”

“If that’s what’ll convince you.”

“I have been begging you to go back for weeks, and now you’ve agreed to go back to ask them if they agree that Jeno looks like a dog?” NingNing scoffed incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, fine, you weirdo. Be ready to leave at midnight.”

When you arrived at the club, you immediately felt out of place again. You clung onto NingNing’s arm tightly as she confidently led the way through the crowd to the VIP lounge. She flashed a smile and her VIP pass to the bouncer outside the room, who nodded and stepped aside. As soon as the two of you entered the small room that consisted of one large rounded booth, you immediately regretted your decision. When NingNing said that everyone would be there, your brain hadn’t pieced together that ‘everyone’ included Lee Jeno, who perked up with interest as the two of you walked in.

Jeno eyed you curiously, an eyebrow raised, “So you came back.”

“Y/N has something really important to ask you guys,” NingNing announced, gesturing to you pointedly.

You felt like a deer in the headlights as all of them turned to look at you. Swallowing thickly, you avoided looking at Jeno as you tried to think of anything else to say.

“Sit down, let’s get you a drink first,” Jaemin kindly saved you, gesturing to the open space at the end of the booth seat.

NingNing sat down next to Mark, who had previously been at the end, and you scooted in after her. The circular table unfortunately made it so that you were looking directly at Jeno, who you couldn’t help but sneak glances at as your brain still stubbornly tried to remember what breed of dog he reminded you of. Another round was brought out for everyone, and you gratefully started sipping on yours.

It was when he smiled up at the waiter as he was handed his drink that it finally hit you. You had to bite down on your lip not to cry out in victory.

Chenle looked at you over his sunglasses—yes he was wearing sunglasses indoors at night, as he had been last time. He asked, “So what is this really important thing you have to ask us?”

You looked at NingNing desperately, but she just gave you a deliberate nod.

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fine.”

With a gulp, you gathered your courage to just fucking say it and get it over with. You still wanted to be right. “Okay, think about it really hard before you answer.”

They all nodded in assent, anticipating your question.

Taking a deep breath, you finally asked, “Doesn’t Jeno kind of look like a Samoyed?”

A couple of them seemed concerned for your mental state. The rest pondered your question whole-heartedly, brows furrowed as they studied the model. Jeno had a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

Finally, Haechan gasped, “Oh my God you’re right.”

“Thank you!” You sighed victoriously, looking over at NingNing smugly.

Jisung fervently searched something on his phone, eyes widening in shock, “Now that you’ve said that I can’t unsee it.”

“What? Let me see.” Chenle yanked the phone out of Jisung’s hand, holding a picture of a fluffy white Samoyed up to Jeno’s face.

The model tilted his head to the side in confusion, perfectly mimicking the picture on-screen. Chenle burst into loud, cackling laughter.

“Shit, he-he does!” Renjun declared between his own laughs.

Murmurs of agreement erupted around the table, and you were now fully vindicated. “Thank you! Thank you! NingNing didn’t agree with me so I had to come and—”

“No, I did,” she snickered. “It was just the only way to get you to come back. You’re a whole different person when you think you’re right.”

You tried to glare at her, but you were much too ecstatic at being proven right to really be all that mad.

Jeno looked about to open his mouth as Chenle giggled incessantly and started swiping through more search results of Samoyed pictures. A horrible sense of dread covered you like scalding candle wax. It was hot against your skin, thick, and you felt like you couldn’t move or breathe. You prayed to every deity you could think of that Jeno had a really good sense of humor and wouldn’t take offense to someone he had met twice saying he looked like a dog.

When Jeno’s gaze finally focused on you, you swore you had never wished to turn invisible more in your life than in that moment. Or make time stop. Or wake up and realize it was a dream. Anything to get you out of this situation. But you were absolutely petrified, all excitement from before completely eradicated from your being.

Then suddenly all tension was gone from the air as his eyes crinkled into crescents and his mouth parted wide to let out hearty guffaws.

You looked around in alarm, waiting for the hidden camera to be revealed or something. This couldn’t be real.

He managed to contain his laughter enough to choke out between chuckles, “That’s— that's really, really funny.”

Your wide eyes were focused incredulously on him as he caught his breath. Still with a grin on his face, he continued, “Oh my god, seriously that was fucking funny. I’m a cute Samoyed, right, Y/N?”

Utterly speechless. That’s what you were. And also staring at him, completely dumbfounded.

“I think you broke her, Jeno,” Renjun snickered, reaching a fist out as if he were about to knock on your forehead like a front door.

Instinctually, you smacked his hand away from your head, a scowl overtaking your features, “I’m fine, Renjun.”

“Then why can’t you look him in the eye?”

You pointed to yourself, “Normal person—” then to Jeno, “supermodel. I’m still not used to that.”

But Renjun was right, you couldn’t look Jeno in the eye, and your whole body was practically on fire. Honestly, how were you supposed to react to this situation? With grace and comfort? No way.

“What? Seriously?” Jeno scoffed, standing up from the booth to pointedly sit on your side of it. Directly next to you.

“I’m not that— Y/N, really? You’re actually scooting away from me?”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted the opposite direction from him, pressed into NingNing’s side. Meanwhile, the others were all finding this spectacle absolutely hilarious, sharing annoying snickers and giggles.

Your face was burning, and despite your satisfaction at being vindicated, you were now regretting coming to the club at all.

“Can you guys stop? You don’t have to be so annoying,” Jeno scolded his friends, much to both yours and their surprise.

Haechan had a look of mild offense and disbelief across his face, “Being annoying comes as natural to us as being ridiculously attractive comes to you.”

“Speak for yourself!” Jaemin slapped Haechan’s arm as Chenle was practically howling with laughter.

While they were distracted among themselves, Jeno’s attention was focused back on you. If you could look him in the eye, you’d be able to appreciate the genuine concern held within them. But you couldn’t, so all you could do was hear the genuine concern in his voice as he said quietly, “Sorry about them.”

“You don’t need to apologize for them,” you reassured him, messing with your fingernails.

“Anyway, I can’t stand having you be terrified of me.”

“I’ll get over it,” you cleared the audible squeak out of your throat, “eventually.”

“Eventually...” Jeno didn’t seem satisfied with that qualifier you added at the end. “Are you busy today?”

“Uhm— I don’t know. Why?”

“We should hang out.”

“What?”

“The more you’re around me, the less scary I’m going to be to you. Right?”

“I guess.”

“Then we should start right now.”

Your throat nearly closed up at this suggestion. Especially because you realized that the room was dead silent. The others had ceased their squabbling and side conversations and were awaiting your response to this too.

So you did the thing that came most naturally to you: procrastinated the issue.

“Oh, well, it’s already after midnight—”

“Then tomorrow.”

“I’m going to be super busy for a while, I just got a really big assignment at work—”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a journalist. Just got centerfold and it’s going to make or break my whole career so it’s going to take up all of my time for the foreseeable future, so...”

Jeno was unfazed, “What’s the topic?”

“I-uh it’s...” you couldn’t even bullshit an answer at this point, your stupid tongue tripping over itself. “I don’t have one yet.”

NingNing just had to offer up her opinion right then, “Do it on Jeno!”

If you were a lesser person, you'd have strangled NingNing in that moment, because the model’s features lit up. He clearly liked this idea.

“Yeah! I would love to. If it’ll fit your guidelines or whatever, of course.”

You sighed, “It does...”

The socially anxious part of you absolutely hated this idea. But, the journalist part of you knew it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Gritting your teeth, you managed to look Lee Jeno dead in the eye and say, “I would love to interview you, Jeno. Thank you.”

“Uhm, Jeno?” Jisung speaking up stopped the wide grin that was spreading across his friend’s face. “Aren’t you like, banned from interviews or something?”

“Technically,” Jeno answered dismissively, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Technically?” You echoed in confusion. Were you just being messed with?

“Something… happened with the last in-depth interview I did a while ago,” he admitted sheepishly. “But! I’ll talk to my manager and get it cleared, I promise, Y/N!”

[jeno: manager han gave the okay for the interview! when can we get started?]

Your stomach contorted itself at the message that just popped up on your phone screen. Last night you’d left the lounge with a growing sense of dread and anxiety. And Jeno’s phone number.

[jeno: i have a fitting this afternoon but i'll be done in time to get dinner]

[jeno: if that works for you, of course]

[jeno: we can always start it another day, whatever is good for you!]

[jeno: do you want me to send you my schedule for the next few weeks to make it easier for us to get together?]

Your phone’s continuous buzzing with enthusiastic and sincerely kind messages from him caught the attention of NingNing, whose feet were currently resting on your lap as you shared your couch together.

“When did you get so popular?” She questioned teasingly, peering at you over her own phone screen.

“It's just one person,” you informed her.

“Who texts you that much in a row other than me?”

“Lee Jeno, apparently.”

“Y/N, you seem very unenthusiastic about this,” she declared with a thoughtful frown, completely abandoning her phone. “Isn’t this a really big break for you?”

“I’m still a little shocked,” you admitted. “And scared.”

She shoved you with her foot. “Well at least text him back.”

“Right.”

Not a great idea to leave him on read.

[you: a copy of your schedule would be great]

[you: and yes, i can do dinner tonight]

It was less than a minute later that he replied.

[jeno: here’s my schedule]

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: and could you give me your address so i can drive you to dinner tonight? the place i have in mind is kind of hard to find if you haven’t been before]

A lot was happening right now. Too much for you to process. Good thing there was another brain in this room to help you process it.

“Hey, NingNIng?” You got her attention before thrusting your phone screen towards her so she could read the texts.

“Uh, three options here.” She pointed to a new finger for each one as she listed them off: “He’s ridiculously excited about this interview; he likes you; or he’s going to kill you.”

“So far the last one seems most likely.”

With a shake of your head, you sent him your address.

Your fingers anxiously tapped along your bouncing knee as you waited on your couch for the text from Jeno that he was here. He told you that the restaurant was just casual, but you weren’t sure that a model’s idea of casual wear was the same as yours.

Jeez, what were you doing? Getting dinner with and interviewing one of the most well-known models in the country? You were so out of your depth here.

A buzz came from your other hand that was tightly gripping your phone. An incoming call from Jeno. Maybe he was calling to cancel, and you could just keep rescheduling until you both gave up on the whole idea and you never showed your face in that VIP lounge again.

Answering it, your voice squeaked as you attempted to give him a casual, “Hello.”

“Hey, Y/N!” The bright voice of Lee Jeno came through your speakers. “I’m just parking now, I’ll be up in a couple minutes.”

“You don’t have to come up!” You told him a little too forcefully and quickly. Having Lee Jeno in your apartment would just be too much.

“I don’t mind—”

You leapt up from your couch and rushed towards your door, “Too late, I’m already on my way down.”

With a sharp hit of your thumb, you hung up. Pressing the down button on the elevator impatiently, you prayed that Jeno would just give up and wait in his car.

He didn’t.

The elevator doors opened to the lobby, with Jeno right outside them. In fact, you nearly slammed right into his chest, but thankfully he took a step back before you could actually collide.

His ‘woah!’ was muffled slightly by the dark face mask over his mouth, accompanying dark baseball somewhat successfully obscuring his identity. As long as you didn’t look too closely, he could be any other guy.

“I told you I’d just come down on my own.” You shook your head at him, eyes trained on your shoes.

“And I told you that I’d come up and get you,” he shot back smugly. “Seems like neither of us listen very well.”

With no response coming from you, Jeno took your silence as the cue to lead the way out to his car. It was nice, nicer than most cars you’d seen around, but surprisingly not that ostentatious. It looked like something a moderately successful businessman would drive, not an A-list model.

Inside was a comfortable leather interior, and you took quick, short notes on the small notepad you kept with you as you looked around. After all, this was an interview, and you had an article to write. You could get over your own social awkwardness and feelings of inferiority for the sake of your future career.

Hopefully.

The restaurant Jeno had chosen was definitely out-of-the way.

It was down one back alley into another, through the back of an electronics shop, up a flight of stairs, then through a room of old ladies sat at sewing machines. They all gave a friendly chorus of hellos to the two of you, seeming to know Jeno pretty well as they all told him that he’d grown since the last time he’d come by. He bowed to them bashfully as he led you through. Past the curtains on the far wall, you finally ended up at the restaurant.

Okay, out-of-the-way was an understatement.

But despite the hard-to-stumble-upon location of the restaurant, it seemed busy. The small room was tightly packed with tables that you could barely see through the mass of people seated around them and plates of food resting atop them. A loud buzz of various conversations mixed in with the bumping of plates and clattering of utensils.

Just past the entrance was a small host’s stand where a young boy stood. He looked to not be out of high school yet, presumably a young relative of the owners: their son, nephew, or grandson.

He also knew Jeno, bowing to him, “Ah, Mr. Lee. We have your reservation for you. Come.”

Jeno bowed back and looked to make sure that you were still following the two of them through the nearly claustrophobic environment.

You were, eyes drinking in every detail as your hand furiously scribbled them down on your notepad, muscle memory functioning at full speed to write every letter without looking away from the scene around you. There was one more curtain for you to go through, and it was much quieter on the other side. This was most likely a VIP section of sorts, with just a couple tables separated by a divider.

The host gestured to one of the two tables, and you gratefully sat down across from Jeno. He then took his hat and mask off, fingers working through his hair for a moment to rid it of the hat’s aftereffects.

“Thank you, Yeonwoo,” he thanked the host, which you repeated as well.

The boy, who you now knew to be named Yeonwoo, bowed politely to the both of you before scurrying off.

“You must come here often,” you commented, hand poised to write his response.

“My family and I came here a lot when I was younger. Since I started my career it’s been difficult to eat here as often as I did before. Especially because their food isn’t technically allowed in my diet,” he had a mischievous glint in his eye as then he added, “But you won’t tell on me, right?”

“Of course not, unless writing an article about you that will be published in a magazine counts as tattling,” you snorted, much to his delight.

He laughed, “Right, right. That’s pretty much the ultimate form of tattling, huh?”

“If it gets published, yeah. If not, then the only people who will know will be you, me, and my editor. And I suppose Yeonwoo and our server, as well.”

“Speaking of our server, there she is!” Jeno announced, making the young girl who was approaching your table blush behind her notepad. She was probably around Yeonwoo’s age, maybe a little older.

“Good evening,” she greeted the two of you politely. “My name is Jieun, I’ll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order?”

You were a bit confused by her question, you hadn’t been given any menus yet. But Jeno seemed completely unfazed.

“Two orders of my regular, please,” he requested sweetly, which she quickly scribbled down on her pad.

“Of course, it’ll be out soon,” she informed you before hurrying away.

He turned back to you, “Jieun is Yeonwoo’s older cousin, their grandparents own the restaurant.”

You added this to your notes as well. It could be nice to add in to set the scene and show how down-to-Earth Jeno was, knowing this family as well as his own and not forgetting his roots even as a big model. Or something like that, you’d figure it out eventually.

“So, interview questions?” He prompted you, bringing you out of your contemplative planning ahead. You’d write that up later.

“Earlier you had mentioned your family, tell me a bit about them. Brothers, sisters?”

Could you have looked that information up online and found it? Definitely, but you wanted it from the source, to see if he would provide you with anything that wasn’t already out there. And you wanted to get a feel of your subject.

“Well there’s my parents, my older sister, and me. They’re not famous or anything. My parents own a grocery store nearby, and my sister’s a teacher.”

“You took my next question right out of my mouth,” you clicked your tongue in teasing disappointment, continuing on with a different one. “You said you used to come here often with your family, what are some other things you miss from your childhood that you don’t do as often?”

Jeno’s face easily betrayed his delighted surprise, “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that one.”

“Hm?”

“That’s a good question. Normally I get asked about celebrity crushes or my ideal type.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously, “If you thought that I was just going to ask you the same questions you usually get asked, why did you offer for me to interview you?”

“Never mind, never mind, sorry.” He coughed awkwardly, then quickly went to get off that topic, “Uh, it might sound kind of weird, but I used to help out at my parents’ store a lot as a kid. It was my first job I ever had. As soon as I could reach the register on a high stool, they put me to work. It’s actually how I got scouted, for modeling. My manager now just happened to come through my line while I was on the register and gave me his card. I thought it was a scam, honestly. But Jaemin made me give him a call, and he turned out to be legit. Even if I had the time to help at the store now, I’d just be too much of a distraction if I tried. And trust me, I tried. Once. So yeah, I miss helping out there.”

The desire for an answer to your other question was still there, but it was a path that you didn’t want to go down right now. Right now was time for the interview. So you simply scratched down his statement about his parents’ shop, then shorthanded off to the side ‘why me?’ as you readied your next question.

“You knew Jaemin before you guys were famous?”

“Yeah, we’ve been friends forever.” A fond smile crossed Jeno’s face. “Seatmates since primary school. He blew up with streaming first before I got my break as a model, actually. Most people usually assume it’s the other way around.”

“And what about the others?”

As Jeno eagerly answered your questions and you filled up page after page on your notepad, there was still that one lingering in the back of your mind.

Why you?

Over the course of a couple weeks, you’d spent a considerable amount of time with Jeno. According to his schedule that he had sent you, every free moment he got was taken up by your interview. Sometimes it would be more formal, like your first dinner meeting, and sometimes it was more casual, get-togethers in the lounge with the other VIP members or a riverside walk that felt more like two friends talking than a professional interview. And it all went in your notes, it would all go in your article. This was going to be a great article. The real Lee Jeno when he’s relaxed, what he’s like off the runway.

Today was very special, however, as you’d been invited to tag along to one of his photoshoots. You were just outside the building housed at the address you’d been given when you were met by a young man whose stern gaze never left you. It seemed as if he had been waiting for you.

“Are you the journalist?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, completely skipping any greetings.

“Ah yes, Y/L/N Y/N,” you confirmed, nodding your head respectfully to him as you held out your VIP lounge card as proof. Jeno told you that would be your pass to get in.

The man only scrutinized the card for a moment before he pivoted on his heel, “Follow me.”

You kept his hurried pace easily, ready to ask him questions as well, “So what’s your job here?”

He took a moment to push open a door that then nearly closed on you before answering, “I’m Lee Jeno’s PA.”

“Oh, Song Eunseok!” The name easily came to your mind.

The PA’s eyes widened in surprise, ���Jeno’s brought me up?”

“Of course he has! You’re with him pretty much all the time, how could he not mention you?” You flipped through your notebook to where you’d taken previous notes about him, “Here, I asked him to walk me through his typical day, and he mentioned ‘Seokkie’ like seven times.”

Eunseok physically grimaced at this, “I’ve requested that he not call me that.”

“Why? I think it’s a cute nickname.”

“Really?” His eyes were now trained on his shoes as opposed to his previous laser focus on the end of the hallway. Your eyes could’ve been playing tricks on you, but you swore the tips of his ears were tinged pink, too.

There was another door, and this time you definitely couldn’t miss the fact that he held it open for you this time.

“Really,” you echoed.

The door had led to what you could really only imagine to be the set. Huge lightboxes, a couple cameras, and a multitude of people all set up with a single black sheet as the focal point. A white loveseat contrasted it starkly, but that wasn’t where your eyes were drawn. They were drawn to the man seated elegantly atop it, dressed head-to-toe like the playboy prince of a small but filthy rich country. Lee Jeno.

“You can wait for him over here with me,” Eunseok tapped your elbow with a feather-light touch, snapping you from your near-trance.

“Thanks.” You walked with him towards a table lined with various food and drink.

Your focus was still on the PA as he got a bottle of water, opened it, took a lemon slice from a small bowl and squeezed it into the drink before plopping a blue straw in as well. Then didn’t drink it. Instead, he turned back to you and held it in his hand patiently.

“The straw disturbs the makeup as little as possible,” Eunseok explained to you, and it was then that you realized it wasn’t for him, it was for Jeno. “Makes the makeup artists’ lives a little bit easier.”

“That’s very considerate. I wouldn’t have even thought of that,” you commented, taking note of that process as your focus returned back to Jeno and the photoshoot.

Knowing that your next question might be considered disrespectful, you leaned closer to Eunseok to whisper, “So who’s the photographer?”

He understood your delicacy, replying back equally quiet, “Chen Man, she’s brilliant. Jeno’s worked with her in the past, but this is his first solo shoot with her. It’s for the new YSL campaign that he was chosen to be the face of.”

And you were rocketed back to the fact that Lee Jeno was a famous model. Obviously, you hadn’t really forgotten it, but in your casual meetings and interviewing outside of his work, the magnitude of it was lessened. But a PA, giant photoshoot, famous photographer, and being selected as the new face of a campaign for a huge designer really hammered in the famous model part.

“Wow.”

It was just then that Chen Man called for a short break, and the silent studio was immediately filled with chatter. Jeno made a beeline for you and Eunseok, his normal contagious grin across his face, “Hey, Y/N! I’m glad you made it here okay.”

Up close, you could appreciate the detail and regality of his outfit. It was made of crushed velvet of a deep cerulean color; various intricate medals flashing on his chest; dark epaulettes making his already broad shoulders even more imposing; large black boots; and silver jewelry and chains glinting on his fingers and neck.

Eunseok offered the water out to Jeno then, and he accepted it gratefully, “Thanks, Eunseok.”

You continued from the model’s earlier statement, “Yeah, Eunseok made sure I got to the right place.”

“Good, I sent him out there to get you.” He turned on his PA, “You didn’t give Y/N a hard time, did you?”

“My job is to make sure none of your insane fans somehow get in here,” the other man scoffed.

“So you did give her a hard time.”

Eunseok rolled his eyes at Jeno’s teasing words. Despite knowing that they were employer-employee, it felt much more like two friends to you. You added that to your notes.

Jeno took a couple big sips of his water, and you took this time to ask him a couple of questions.

“So Eunseok was saying that this shoot is for the new YSL campaign that you’re the face of. Have you ever done something like this before?”

He blinked at you a couple times before actually replying, “Yeah, it’s really an honor and a big opportunity to be chosen for this. I’ve done solo shoots before, but not ones of this magnitude.”

Another figure approached your small group, a makeup artist. Jeno handed his water back to Eunseok before leading the way a little further away to sit in a chair. As the makeup artist attended to his makeup, you continued with the interview.

“How familiar are you with the photographer on this shoot?”

“I’ve worked with Chen Man a few times before—” he paused to let the makeup artist apply his lip color again. After she was done, he continued, “Her ideas are incredible and she’s honestly so wonderful to work with. However, all those other times I was with other models, so doing a solo photoshoot with her is a bit nerve-wracking. She’s the kind of person that you really want to make proud, you know?”

Thinking of Ms. Zhang and her disappointment in you earlier, you nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

There was a call for everyone to start getting back into their places, and you took this as your cue to leave Jeno alone. He had work to do.

The makeup artist did one touch up on his face before letting him up out of the chair, another person coming to his side to fix his hair up just the way they wanted it, walking alongside him awkwardly to do so.

“Take a bunch of notes on your little notepad, Y/N!” Jeno quipped as he walked back in front of the camera.

“Will do!” You affirmed, holding your notebook above your head and shaking it slightly so he could see it.

Returning to your previous spot off to the side with Eunseok, you had a fond smile on your lips from your short interaction with Jeno. Eunseok had a little smirk of his own as he gazed at you.

“And what’s that smile for?” You questioned, head tilted.

“Nothing.”

You elbowed him with a short giggle, “Come on, tell me.”

“No,” he shook his head, that same smile on his lips.

Even as you rolled your eyes, your focus never faltered from Eunseok. You changed tactics, a slight pout on your face as you asked again, “Please, Seokkie?”

Finally, he relented, “You’re pretty special, Y/N.”

“What?” You questioned in pleasant surprise.

“For Manager Han to have approved this interview after what happened last time, Jeno probably begged.”

“I can't imagine what would be so special about me.”

Eunseok had a brightness to his features that you hadn’t seen yet as he replied, “I can.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And what is it?”

Shouts from the set took both your attentions away from each other. Chen Man had been calling directions out during the whole shoot, but never with such aggression as then.

“Jeno! Lee Jeno!”

You scanned the scene in front of you as you tried to figure out what exactly was happening. Jeno’s arms were crossed across his chest, a startlingly stern but calm gaze focused on… you?

“Jeno can you—ugh, fifteen-minute break, everybody!” She yelled out in exasperation, the rest of the crew breaking the silence, scattering from the set.

Chen Man continued addressing her model, “Jeno, your expressions… they’re off.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on them.”

Despite acknowledging her words, you were doubtful of if he had actually registered them, stalking off the set with seemingly one destination in mind.

“Y/N,” Jeno stopped right by you and Eunseok. “Can I speak with you for a second?”

“Of course,” you nodded, well aware of how the crew was only pretending to be busy, instead actually focused on the three of you.

Your subject took off again, and you guessed that he anticipated that you’d follow him. Which you did. Eunseok stayed behind.

His longer legs made it a little hard to keep up with him as he took twists and turns down hallways of the building.

“Jeno,” you breathed out, seeming to finally snap him out of whatever mood he had been in.

Immediately, he slowed down to your pace, a faint smile coming to his lips, “Sorry, long legs.”

“Where are we going?”

He abruptly stopped, “Here is fine.”

It was the middle of some random hallway. He apparently didn’t have an actual destination in mind, more-so a distance.

“So what do you need to talk to me about?” You questioned, pencil and notepad at the ready. It had to be something for the interview, it couldn’t possibly be anything else.

“Y/N…” Jeno reached his hands out to cover yours, gently lowering the pencil and notepad for you. His hands were big and warm on yours, and you felt nerves flare up at his clear insinuation that this wasn’t for the interview.

“Jeno…” you said back with a nervous half-giggle. He was still holding your hands.

“This isn’t part of the interview. I’m not interviewee Jeno, and you’re not interviewer Y/N right now.”

“Okay…”

As soon as you had accepted these terms, he released his feather-light hold on your hands and took his own back to wring them nervously. What could Lee Jeno possibly be nervous about?

“Hm, I’ve never done this before,” he chuckled, pressing a palm to the center of his chest.

“Done what?”

“Okay, I’m just going to be upfront. Uh, I think you’re super great, and pretty, and awesome and I’d really like to be able to take you out on a date some time.”

This had to be a fucking joke. No way that someone who looks like him, an actual model, someone who gets paid for being ridiculously attractive, could actually be asking you out. This had to be a sick, terrible, horrible joke he was playing on you.

And yet as his big brown eyes gazed at you, wide and hopeful, looking a lot like a puppy waiting to be adopted from some animal shelter, you knew that he was being genuine.

And you panicked.

Stuttering for a moment, you finally choked out the most formal and emotionally removed response you could’ve come up with, “I’m sorry, I—that wouldn’t be appropriate, since I’m interviewing you right now. A bias or conflict of interest would damage the integrity of my piece as well as my career.”

Surprisingly, his features didn’t seem as crestfallen as you anticipated, his expressions were always so easy to read. He, in fact, seemed very happy with your reply.

“I get it,” he beamed at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze for a moment before letting it go. “After the article, then.”

That wasn’t what you meant. At all. But between your own burning cheeks and internal state of panic, you couldn’t express this to him. Or even really process your own thoughts right then.

“We should head back, Eunseok will come looking for us soon,” Jeno nodded with his head back in the general direction that you two had come from.

He kept a polite distance from you, allowing some of the panic alarms blaring in your mind to quiet just a bit. You tried to brainstorm ways you could possibly keep this interview going forever. Ways to give you as much time as possible. To do what, exactly? Maybe come up with an actual way of rejecting him. Or maybe give him enough time to change his romantic focus to someone else, so that he would never end up revisiting this subject after the interview.

You could dream.

“Oh my god!” NingNing exclaimed. “Are you shitting me?!”

You’d just recalled your day to your roommate, finally ending at the part where Jeno had asked you on a date. She had literally done a spit-take back into her soda as she smacked your leg in excitement.

Despite still being in disbelief yourself, Jeno had been extremely up-front and clear about it. No room for misinterpretation. Unlike your response to him.

“Well when’s the date?” NingNing squealed, pressing for more information.

“I said no,” you deadpanned.

“What?”

“Well, kind of.”

At the clear grimace on your face, your friend sighed, “Y/N, what did you tell him? Verbatim.”

“I told him that it would be inappropriate right now because a bias or conflict of interest would ruin the integrity of my piece and any career opportunity that came out of it,” you repeated your statement from earlier almost word-for-word, sure that it would be burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

“You do know that he now definitely thinks that you were telling him to just wait until after the article is over, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands and rubbing your face in exasperation.

“You don’t want to go on a date with Jeno?”

“I don’t want to date Lee Jeno,” you confirmed, nodding the head that you were still holding.

“Let me just review the situation here: you’ve got a very sweet, very funny, very hot guy that’s into you. What’s the problem?”

“He’s hot.”

Finally, you’d found it. The real reason you’d said no, the real reason you had a deep pit of dread in your stomach as soon as the words had left Jeno’s mouth hours earlier.

She snorted, “That’s a problem?”

“His entire career is based off being hot, he’s a model,” you explained rather desperately, relieved to finally be able to put your tumultuous thoughts into proper words. “I can’t deal with all that shit that comes with it. I just can’t.”

“So you’ll never want to date him? You’re not going to change your mind?”

“No, never. I couldn’t.”

“Never say never,” NingNing taunted with a sing-song voice, but at your eye-roll, became more serious. “Okay, let’s just say you’ll never date Jeno in your life—despite the fact that nothing is ever definite—you shouldn’t lead him on. Intentional or otherwise. Don’t let him spend the next few weeks thinking that you two are going to date after the article’s over.”

The anxiety was still there, however. “What if he doesn’t actually think that and I just misunderstood him? What if he just naturally gets over me in the next few weeks and doesn’t need me to confront him about this and straight-up reject him? He’s probably never been rejected in his life, what if he doesn’t take it well? What—”

She cut your endless strings of ‘what if’s short, “Y/N, didn’t he say that he’d never done this before?”

Realization hit you straight to the gut. “What if me rejecting him makes him never want to ask anybody else out again for the rest of his life and I scar him permanently?”

Your roommate had a clear look of ‘yikes’ on her face, and pure mortification ran through every inch of you.

“Never mind, there’s no way I could ever have such an impact on Lee Jeno’s life, that’s fucking ridiculous. I’m just some normal person, some journalist, and he’s literally a supermodel. No way this would actually matter to someone like that.”

“Y/N, don’t say stuff like that,” NingNing frowned, pulling some hair away from your face gently. “You matter to me, remember? You’re my best friend.”

Completely ignoring her, you continued, “I just have to be upfront with him, tell him I don’t want to go on a date with him, and be done with it. He’ll probably never think about it again for the rest of his life.”

She let out a sigh as if she were going to say something but thought better of it. You didn’t press her; your mind had been made up.

You couldn’t do it.

The next time you saw Jeno, you had every intention of being upfront. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were an absolute coward. Some part of you didn’t want to tell him, for whatever reason.

Maybe because the way his face absolutely lit up when he saw you was something you’d never seen anybody do for you before. Maybe because he asked you how your day was and didn’t look disinterested in your answer. Maybe because no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that this was a professional interview, he made you feel so at ease that you somehow talked more about yourself than him.

Maybe because you did kind of want to date him.

Your notebook had been completely abandoned about fifteen minutes into your ‘lunch meeting,’ a fact that went mostly unnoticed by you. Until the waiter came with the bill and you had to move it out of the way for him to set it on the tabletop. You’d written just a couple short notes, nothing substantial. That wasn’t an interview, you couldn’t even try to bullshit it to yourself. That was a date-but-not-a-date. And you enjoyed yourself.

As you contemplated over your mostly-blank page, Jeno had already tucked his own card into the pouch and waved the waiter back over. Before you could argue him paying for you, the waiter was halfway across the restaurant.

“Jeno, I can pay for my own food,” you reminded him gently, feeling very much like you were scolding an over-excited puppy that had accidentally knocked over a potted plant in its haste to greet you.

“And I can pay for both of ours,” he countered.

You held his gaze firmly, waiting for him to— there it was.

His mouth split into a sheepish grin as he held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, I get it, I get it. Interview time right now. We’ll split the check for now.”

For now.

Maybe you liked the idea of that.

“Except this one, since they already ran my card,” Jeno added, a victorious smirk on his face, one that had you shaking your head fondly.

“Can I at least tip?”

“Already added that on the receipt.”

“How dare you be so thoughtful and respectful.”

He seemed about ready to quip something back when a distant chorus of squeals cut him off. You took a cursory glance around, eyes landing on a group of teenage girls standing just outside the window that you were seated by. They weren’t uncomfortably close, but it was clear what had made them so excited.

Jeno ducked his head shyly as he raised a hand to acknowledge them, only setting their nervous titters off again. Maybe he should have left his mask and hat on, or not chosen a table by the window.

And your heart dropped as you were once again reminded of who exactly the man in front of you was. Not just some cute guy named Lee Jeno, but a model who was known internationally, with fans who would recognize him out and about, with a career and life that was under the public gaze constantly.

You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject yourself to that. It would be too much for you.

With the girls still watching the two of you, you collected your notepad and stood up, stiffly bowing to him. “Thank you for allowing me to interview you, Mr. Lee.”

Thankfully, he took your lead, standing and returning your bow, “Of course, thank you as well, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Hopefully the girls got the message that this was business and nothing else. A dating rumor with Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you did not need in your life. Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you did not need in your life.

The light hum that had been in Ms. Zhang’s throat through most of her reading of your article suddenly changed tone as she came to the ending. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, and your mind was running wild with nerves as you waited for her to speak.

“It’s good, Y/N,” she started.

You sensed a ‘but’ coming next.

“But… in the very first paragraph you introduce him as model by day, and explorer by night, or something to that effect.”

“Yes, that’s how he and his friends introduced him.”

“But you never bring up his ‘exploring’ again. This is about his life as a model and what he’s like outside of modelling here. You hooked me on the exploring part, but left me ultimately unsatisfied with that point.”

She was right. She was absolutely right. In your own personal whirlwind of confusion about your emotions and wants, you’d left a loose end in your article.

Ms. Zhang continued, her tone rising, “But…”

Oh, another ‘but.’

“This might just be perfect for a sequel. We publish this and advertise it as a two-part look into him, the first part his model by day, and the second part all about him as an explorer.”

You were caught off-guard, “You want to publish it?”

You had honestly expected her to throw it in the trash and fire you. You’d been so all over the place the entire time you’d been working on the article, you didn’t think it was anywhere close to your best work.

“Of course, this is the most hard-hitting and real piece that’s ever been done about the man! Most of it is tabloid nonsense. Not to mention that this is the first interview he’s done in over a year, it’s fresh content. It’s perfect, Y/N.”

Ms. Zhang just called your article perfect. You were on Cloud Nine, barely listening as she continued.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get a second interview with him? Maybe even tag along on one of his exploring trips or something, like how you went to one of his photoshoots in this one?”

That snapped you back into reality. Going on a trip with Jeno? That sounded dicey. But… also a chance to extend the interview, prolong the inevitable: his expectation that you’ll start dating after the interview. Your worst fear.

Avoiding an uncomfortable scenario and making your career out of it? It was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up.

“Of course, Ms. Zhang.”

Right as you walked into the VIP lounge, you were met with the expectant face of Jeno. You’d agreed to meet him there on your lunch break, right after your morning meeting with Ms. Zhang, to let him know if she was going to move forward with publishing your article or not. It felt a bit weird being at a nightclub in the middle of the day in your work clothes, but it was one of the more private places to meet with him.

“So?” He asked hopefully. “How’d it go?”

“She’s going to publish it,” you breathed out, still in shock yourself.

Two strong arms were suddenly around you, pulling you into a warm chest that was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh my god!” Jeno hugged you tightly. “Congrats, Y/N! I’m so proud of you!”

You hugged him back for a moment, enjoying it more than you should have considering you swore up and down that you weren’t going to let yourself date him. Then you remembered the other half of the conversation, your arms going limp.

“And she wants a second part.”

“That’s great!” He exclaimed, then after another moment, it seemed to have dawned on him. “Oh wait.”

And he let go of you, a particular chill coming to your body as he took a step back from you, declaring, “Professionalism. No bias or conflict of interest.”

You felt bad. You felt so bad. And yet you nodded, “Yeah, it’s still going to have to be like that.”

Maybe forever, if you could swing it just right.

“So… a second part about what, exactly? The article was super great, but I’m not sure how I could be interesting enough for a sequel.”

“Your ‘exploring,’” you explained. “I had mentioned it, but never returned to the topic or expanded on it, so she wants this whole second part to be about your trips and you know… all that stuff. Whatever you get up to when you’re not a model, and when you’re not a regular dude here.”

A rather cheeky grin spread across his face at this, and you didn’t want to know why he was so excited about you not dating, because you had a feeling it would be something awful close to it.

“Well then, what better way to get to know Explorer Jeno than coming with me on my trip to a tropical island next week?”

You were taken aback by both the invite but also by the event itself. After all, Jeno had given you his entire schedule for the past two months, which included next week. And you didn’t remember a trip being anywhere on there.

“Since when have you been going to a tropical island next week?” You asked incredulously.

“Since now.”

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Jeno, you can’t drop everything in your life just to do this. I can wait until whenever your next actual scheduled break is for whatever trip you make then.”

“Yeah, but I can’t wait,” he insisted, a near pout across his features. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, half-mumbling to himself, “I’m calling my manager right now. He owes me vacation days anyway, I’ll just take them early. Make my three-week backpacking trip in Europe next year fifteen days instead. I can’t wait.”

That went straight to your heart, and you felt your chest hurt from the implications of that. He couldn’t wait until he could date you. With every passing moment you felt like a more and more terrible human being. Which you were, you absolutely were just a horrible human being for doing this to him. After all, like you’d said, you were never going to date Lee Jeno.

Right?

One week later and you were in your third airport of the trip, your second layover as you waited for your connecting flight. You’d been in interviewer mode since Jeno had picked you up to head to the first airport that morning. Asking questions, writing answers, asking more questions. There was no room for anything but business on this trip. This article would be the follow-up to your first piece that your boss thought was perfect. So this had to be more perfect than perfect. You wanted to make her proud.

Jeno, surprisingly, was being rather professional too. Other than the slight touch here, an odd phrase there that couldn’t exactly be classified as professional. A brush of your hands as he tried to get your attention, off-handed comment about how cute you were when you were focused taking notes. You’d only remind him that this was a professional article, hoping that he couldn’t see the bashful smile on your lips.

Or even now, he returned from what was supposed to be a quick bathroom break with waters and snacks for the both of you.

“How much do I owe you?” You asked as you accepted the food and drink.

“Nothing.”

You frowned.

“Come on, Y/N,” he sighed in exasperation, cracking open his own water bottle. “I know we’re serious professional interviewing here, but two people doing business together can still be friendly and do nice gestures for each other.”

He was right. He was absolutely right. You were being a jerk for no reason. Well, not for no reason. There was a small voice in your head that hoped that maybe if you pushed him away enough now he would change his mind about wanting to date you, that he’d think you were actually a jerk. And that little voice was apparently wrong. And also a piece of shit. Jeno didn’t deserve that.

“Right, sorry,” you shook your grumpy face off, offering him a smile instead. “Thanks, Jeno.”

He pulled down his face mask to be able to drink the water, and that combined with his inconspicuous baseball cap brought back the idea that he was a famous celebrity who had to cover up his appearance when he went out to avoid being detected. Even in some random foreign country you didn’t know the name of on a layover. If you did actually start dating him, would he have to wear those on your dates? Any time you wanted to spend time together in public? Would you have to start wearing them?

Those were ridiculous thoughts, especially because you were never going to date Lee Jeno.

Right?

On the plane, you halted the interview to allow the two of you to both take naps, already feeling the toll of the heavy travelling you’d done today. And you’d be doing even more soon, as this flight wouldn’t even take you to the island directly, you had to take a ferry from a different island’s airport out to the actual island that was your destination. Then a car ride of some sort from the harbor to wherever you were staying. And based off the clothes Jeno had requested you bring, you’d be getting very in touch with nature on this trip, another exhausting idea.

All for an interview. All for a way to avoid the inevitable.

As you snoozed, not quite asleep yet, you felt Jeno slowly shift in his sleep, his head lolling to the side until it finally found a resting place on your shoulder. Even in his sleep this man completely disregarded professionalism.

But you were too tired to complain, soon falling asleep yourself, with your own head rolling until it finally found a resting place on his.

“So what exactly happened at your last interview that was so bad you were banned from them?”

Your questions continued as soon as you’d left the airport on the island, only halting when you were caught off-guard by Jeno’s choice of transportation: a cream yellow moped. Which you were now on the back of, clinging onto your bag for dear life. Thank God you had packed light like he suggested.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he replied loudly over the wind. “I’ll tell you when we get to the hotel, okay?”

“Fine.”

“We’ve got some tighter turns coming up, you might want to hold on to something actually attached to the moped.”

He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you then held onto him for dear life as he whipped around the turns. How he could possibly make a moped feel dangerous was truly incredible to you.

“Yeah, that—” he stumbled over a voice crack. “That’s good. Much more secure.”

“This question shouldn’t be a long story: Have you ever driven one of these things before?”

The hotel was small and homey, with so few rooms that the two of you would be sharing one. Jeno had already informed you of that beforehand, having asked for the okay from you, that sharing the room wouldn’t be too unprofessional. While it definitely was, there were no other rooms available, so you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. When he informed you that there were two beds, you finally agreed.

Except it wasn’t two beds, as you found out when you walked in. It was a bed and a pull-out couch. And he’d already claimed the pull-out couch for himself.

“Jeno,” you sighed again as you watched him set his stuff down on the less comfortable option. “This isn’t two beds.”

He shrugged, “We have separate places to sleep, that’s what you were worried about, right?”

Your patience was wearing thin. It was almost annoying how sweet he was. Well, it wasn’t really him being sweet that annoyed you. It was the sneaky ways he liked to do it.

“Jeno…” you repeated his name, trailing off as you waited for him acknowledge you.

He was still messing around with setting up the pull-out couch.

“Jeno, look at me.”

At your request, he immediately did so, the attentiveness catching you off-guard for a moment. But you were determined.

“I don’t like being lied to or tricked. Even if it’s something nice, you know? It’s sweet, but I like to make my own decisions about things. Even things that may seem little to you, like splitting the bill at restaurants, or whether you’re coming up to get me or I’m going down to meet you, or you dropping all your plans to go on some spur-of-the-moment trip, or who’s taking the couch and who’s taking the bed. I’d like a say in the matter, okay?”

He gulped, seeming to really be taking his time to mull over what you were saying. And you did, too. It was another reason that you could never date him. He was a celebrity, he was used to being able to do whatever, to not having to worry about the kinds of things normal people like you had to worry about. The implications of that terrified you. You couldn’t do it.

Finally, he said, “Okay, yeah. I understand. I never really saw it like that, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more thoughtful of how it was making you feel. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

Shit, this dude was way too fucking sweet.

You nodded, mumbling some kind of response to the genuine apology he’d given you.

Clearly as eager to change the topic as you, Jeno spoke up, “So, what was it that you’d asked me on the moped earlier?”

And you were more than happy to revisit that, snatching up your notebook from your bag and sitting on the bed, “What happened at your last interview that caused you to be banned from them?”

“Oh, right,” he physically grimaced at this, rubbing his face with his hands for a moment. “It’s a long story, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ve got plenty of paper.”

Jeno let out a sigh, sitting on the pull-out couch. “No, Y/N. I can tell you, but you can’t write it down, you can’t publish it. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, because I know how dedicated you are to the integrity of your work but… if you’re going to publish it, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. The others don’t even know the whole story. Jaemin doesn’t know.”

His words struck you differently, hearing the genuine defeat and distress in his voice. With a twinging heart, you tucked your notepad and pencil back into your bag. For someone who had been preaching about professionalism and keeping the integrity of your article, you were really so ready to throw it out for him as soon as he asked, weren’t you?

“I won’t write it down, I won’t tell a soul,” you reassured him, wanting nothing more than to sit down next to him and hold his hand and tell him that everything was okay. But you still clung onto some little semblance of professionalism here. For some fucking reason, when it was getting clearer by the minute that all your resistance would be futile.

Just a glimmer of a smile was across his lips for a moment at your actions before it was taken over by the same pensive face as before, and he started the story.

“It was… oh probably over a year ago now. I was still kind of new to the modelling industry, but it felt like everyone’s eyes were on me. My company toted me around as their rising star and every second I wasn’t at a gig, I was being interviewed by someone. It was a lot, but it was freaking awesome.”

The brightness in his features that had been there as he recalled the earlier days of his career suddenly turned dark at his next words. “Until this one interview. It was for a smaller magazine, and my manager didn’t even know why I wanted to do the interview. But it was a magazine that my mom liked to read, and I wanted her to be able to see her son in it. So I sat down with the interviewer, and it felt like it was going like all my other interviews had gone. And maybe because I wanted to really make a good impression on her, so the article my mom read would be as positive as possible, I accidentally led her on or something like that.”

You tilted your head curiously at this last statement. If it had come from any other hot guy, you might have doubted his actual intentions, but it was Jeno. You knew that he wasn’t only physically attractive but had such a way of being naturally charming and making people feel at ease that it was impossible not to be drawn in by his attractive personality. He didn’t do it on purpose, he was just a genuinely nice guy.

“But afterwards, she asked for my number. I said no. I let her down as easy as I could, and she took it with grace. Or I had thought so until Manager Han and the CEO of my company—who I had never met until this—sat me down in his office and showed me a naked picture of some guy and asked if it was me. You couldn’t see his face, and his build was similar to mine, so I could see how they were doubtful. It wasn’t me, but that didn’t matter. The interviewer had sent those pictures to my company saying that if they didn’t pay her a bunch of money, she would post them online saying they were of me.”

Your eyes widened almost comically at this. You couldn’t believe that someone could actually think of doing something like that, especially to Jeno.

“Now, the company doesn’t take very well to people trying to extort them or threaten their people, so she was taken care of.” After a pause, his eyes shot open comically wide as he shook his head fervently, “Legally, in the legal system, it’s not like my company like killed her or anything, I phrased that very badly.”

A quiet laugh came from your mouth at his backpedaling.

“Anyway, they decided that after that, it would be best for me to not do interviews for a while. I don’t really know what happened to her after the court case, but to my knowledge, she hasn’t bothered us. And I haven’t had an interview since. Until you.”

“Until me,” you echoed, mind reeling from this story.

This interview really meant more to Jeno than you had realized before. You’d incorrectly and selfishly assumed that he was so invested in it just because he liked you. But it was more than that. His last interview had been a disaster, the interviewer threatened to humiliate him publicly, and betrayed him. He had taken a chance on you to be different than that, taken a chance to make you his first interview back after the shit the last one had put him through. You were sure that he was feeling the pressure from his company to make it the best possible return to them ever. And he had entrusted it all with you.

You weren’t sure of how long you’d been sitting in silence for, but it started suffocating you, so you finally choked out, “I’m sorry she did that to you. She’s… a bitch.”

Jeno chuckled, “I guess. I kind of just feel bad for her.”

“I don’t,” you snorted, feeling your blood starting to boil as you thought about it even more. “She tried to ruin your career and reputation because she got rejected. It’s not your fault, Jeno. You didn’t do anything to deserve that. She’s just a bitch.”

While he didn’t outright agree with you, the faint smile on his features was still apparent as he went to stand up, forcing some pep into his tone. “Okay, time for some island exploring. After all, you’re here for Explorer Jeno, right?”

“Right!”

Right?

Being on the island was refreshing. Not only because you’d never been on a trip to a place quite like it before, but just everything felt absolutely perfect. It was the perfect temperature outside, the warm sun being balanced out by a cool breeze that blew through your hair, the water surrounding you was the perfect clear blue, the flora the perfect rich green, and the man with you was… perfect.

You’d given up on trying to keep your fond thoughts of Jeno at bay. He was wonderful, that was undeniable. And as you went around the island together, his baseball cap and face mask left behind in the hotel room, the notion of his fame slipped from your mind. Sure, you were still writing down your observations, small adventures, and pertinent questions you asked him. But you weren’t interviewing Famous Supermodel Jeno right now, you were interviewing Explorer Jeno. And he was someone you could let yourself fall for, even for just a few days on this little island.

After your third day on the island as you signed onto the hotel wifi to transcribe your notes from your notebook to your word document on your laptop, a few email notifications popped up, catching your attention. Reception wasn’t the best, and you had so many other things occupying your focus and time—mainly Jeno—that you rarely checked your phone. Not to mention that before you’d left, you were unsure of if you’d even have cell phone service on the island, so you’d told your friends to email you if they needed anything.

One was an email from NingNing, the short preview of her message that you could see making you shake your head. You were not on a romantic getaway with Jeno.

The next was some flyer from a store advertising their latest sale, which you quickly discarded in favor of opening the one from Ms. Zhang. The person who was literally paying for you to be there right then.

The gist of her email was basically just asking for a status update, a routine check-in to see how your research and interview was coming along. You filled her in on what kind of direction and outline you were thinking of for the article, telling her some of the things you’d done together around the island, framing it as professionally as you could. However, it was very hard to make it business-like, you realized in slight defeat as you reread the email draft to yourself. Maybe you could make it casual-business-friendly-sounding instead. After editing a couple phrases here and there, you read it one more time. Satisfied that you’d made it sound the least like a ‘romantic getaway’ as possible, you hit send.

You had just sent it when Jeno emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed and toweling off his wet hair.

When the two of you had gotten back from wandering the streets and seeing the nightlife of the town, you’d given him first shower of the night, wanting to sort out your notes as soon as possible. You had a lot to move over just from that night alone, especially the moment when Jeno was ordering something from an older street vendor and had suddenly busted out some local dialect he’d picked up from God knows where. And the man knew what he was saying too. Jeno never ceased to amaze you.

“Jeno,” you called his name out from where you sat cross-legged on the bed, laptop with the email still up in front of you.

“Hm?” He hummed in acknowledgement, abandoning his towel in order to run his fingers through his damp hair.

“The way the guys had described your exploring, and the stuff you’d told me to bring made me think it’d be more… rugged than this.”

A handsome, crooked grin split his lips, seeming very delighted at your observation, “And what did the guys tell you?”

“Jaemin and Renjun seemed fearful for my life and told me to be safe; Haechan and Chenle were rather ecstatic and told me to have fun in a tone that made me not want to know their implications; Mark told me to bring plenty of water and a first aid kit; and Jisung… well he didn’t actually say anything but his face said it all.”

“You talked to all the guys about the trip?”

“Not by choice, NingNing brought me to an influencer party with Jisung, Jaemin, and Renjun the other day, and I was summoned to the lounge by Chenle and subsequently ambushed by him, Haechan, and Mark about it.”

“They’re all menaces,” Jeno shook his head fondly. “But don’t worry, I’ve got some plans for us tomorrow.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He giggled.

“So we’re hiking to the top of this volcano?” You summarized what Jeno had just told you, in much fewer words.

“Yep!”

“Then camping near the top, which we may or may not be allowed to do.”

“Yep!”

“Without a guide.”

“I’m your guide, Y/N! I do this kind of stuff all the time, and there’s a trail to follow anyway.”

“Now I know why Jaemin and Renjun feared for my life.”

“They were being dramatic, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh I’m not protesting going, I’ll just make sure to type up my will in the notes app in my phone first.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

You laughed, putting your hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. I won’t write my final will and testament right now.”

“Let’s go!”

Thankfully, you’d taken heed of Mark’s advice to bring extra water. With the amount you were sweating, you would’ve been dehydrated less than an hour in if you weren’t constantly replenishing the lost fluids. It wasn’t an incredibly strenuous or difficult hike. Not a casual stroll, but you were managing. It was just that it was so hot and humid now that you were in the more confined landscape of the trees, you couldn’t tell if more of the moisture was your own sweat or the water hanging in the air and clinging to your skin as you continued through it.

Jeno kept you plenty entertained with stories of his previous (mis)adventures, almost all of which were solo. There were a couple times that he brought along others, but they didn’t go great. One unfortunate happenstance was when he’d dragged Eunseok out white water rafting with him and the poor guy fell out of the raft into freezing cold water. According to Jeno, his PA almost quit right on the spot. Another time, the other VIP lounge members had joined him as a celebration trip after Renjun hit 10 million subscribers. They ran out of water on the second day, Chenle ended up spraining his ankle, and they were ready to commit mutiny before the 48-hour mark, so the trip was concluded early.

“Jeno, it sounds like the people who go exploring with you don’t have a great track record of enjoying themselves,” you pointed out, taking another swig of water.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Y/N?” He countered.

Looking around, you could just make out a peek of blue ocean through the trees, and looking ahead of you, the two of you were more than halfway to the top.

“Yeah, I am. So far. There’s still time for me to sprain my ankle or fall into a freezing river.”

He shook his head affectionately at your teasing, “Careful, you’re going to jinx yourself.”

“Old hiking superstition? If you talk about spraining your ankle you will?”

“No, but still. My own little superstition, I guess.”

“Got it. Then I’ll un-jinx myself: I will not sprain my ankle or fall into a freezing river on this trip,” you announced loudly to the surrounding forest, earning another fond smile from Jeno accompanied by a soft chuckle.

“There you go.”

“Another five minutes or so and we’ll be at the peak!” Jeno yelled back over his shoulder to you excitedly.

You were a few steps behind him, your legs had been complaining for the greater part of the last thirty minutes. But with this information, you felt reinvigorated, having the end so close bringing a new spark of energy to your tired limbs. You caught up to him, sharing the trail at the wider parts and staying just behind him at the narrower parts.

Finally, you were at the top. And you knew because the trees opened up to a clearing, the leaves and branches giving way to the most incredible sights you could’ve imagined.

“Wow,” you breathed out, turning to get the full view.

From here you could see the whole little town below you, other nearby islands, the forest you had just hiked through, and the vast, glistening blue sea surrounding you. The sun bounced off of the water at the perfect angle to make it look like it was made of diamonds. It was breathtaking. Not to mention that now that you were out of the humid forest, you could once again feel the cool breeze across your heated skin.

A pod of dolphins surfaced briefly, their fins dipping up and down between the calm waves.

“Jeno, dolphins!” You pointed them out to him eagerly, instinctually clutching his arm in excitement. “Did you know that dolphins in the Amazon River are pink because of repeated skin abrasion, and that the males are pinker because they have a lot more interspecies aggression?”

“I think my guide told me something like that, but I was too focused on getting my paddle back from one to really listen to him.”

You turned to him with wide eyes. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yeah, I went to the Amazon last summer. I had to wrestle my paddle back from a rather playful one,” he shrugged, as if it was just a casual little day trip or something. “So you really like dolphins?”

“I did a report for school when I was like 11, some of the info just stuck.”

As you kept watching the dolphins, a smaller one popped up in the middle of the pod. “Oh! A baby! It’s so cute!”

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed with you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You can’t tell it’s a girl from here!”

Then you looked over at him, realizing that his focus wasn’t on the dolphins, but on you. Mumbling something about professionalism, you let go of his arm, clasping your hands in front of you as you awkwardly looked back out to the sea.

With a victorious smirk on his face—probably enjoying the fact that he was able to fluster you—Jeno took a few steps away from you, yanking his knapsack off his back and grabbing a blanket from it, “Time for a late lunch.”

He laid the blanket out on a flatter part of the terrain, then brought out a small assortment of foods. You sat down with him, eager to dig into the food. With how much your legs hurt from hiking up here, you hadn’t realized that you were starving until he mentioned lunch. Your stomach growled angrily, and you just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

Jeno had packed a very nice lunch for you to share. For the most part, you two were quiet, mouths full of food and eyes still drinking in the stunning view of where you were. You turned your phone on to snap a few pictures before shutting it off again. With no charging ports out here, you had to conserve the battery until you were back in the hotel.

“Do you know which island that is?” You asked Jeno, pointing to the one that seemed the closest to you.

“Nope.”

“That one?” You pointed to a different one.

“Nope.”

“This one?” You teasingly pointed at the ground you were sitting on.

Jeno raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Right as you had opened your mouth to say something smartassy back, you pursed your lips in defeat. “Uh, nope.”

He chuckled, capping his water and starting to put the trash and leftover food back into his bag. You followed his lead, standing when he did so he could pack the blanket back up too. Stretching, a few satisfying cracks came from your back, letting go of the tension that had built up from your sitting position that probably wasn’t great for your spine.

“We should head down to the campsite soon,” Jeno informed you quietly as you had gone back to watching the ocean.

He’d told you while you were still at the base that you wouldn’t be camping at the peak, but at another area a little further down the mountain that was a lot safer for sleeping on. You wished you could’ve stayed up here for the rest of your life.

“Can’t we stay and watch the sunset?” Your voice was nearly a soft whine as you resisted leaving so soon. “It’s got to be incredible from up here.”

“I’m sure it is,” he sounded very reluctant to be telling you this. “But we have to set up camp before it gets too dark.”

“A couple more minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.”

After being rather useless in helping Jeno set up your campsite—not for any chivalrous reasons on his part, you were truly just inept at things and did more harm than good when you tried to help—you sat outside the tent with him. The two of you were going to be sharing a tent, which he had asked earlier if that would be okay. You told him it was fine with you.

The blanket previously used for lunch earlier was under the two of you as you sat just outside the tent. The site Jeno had chosen as your campsite was in a rare area where the foliage wasn’t too thick, and you could just make out some of the ocean as the sun set. It wasn’t the picture-perfect sunset you imagined could be seen from the peak, but it was still pretty.

You continued with your interview questions as you looked out towards the water, scrawling down his answers in the fading light. You couldn’t quite see what you were writing, hoping you didn’t just make a bunch of illegible scribbles instead of notes. He spoke again of his trip to the Amazon, saying how he’d like to go back again sometime, and maybe have a better look at the pink river dolphins. The way he said it fostered some implications, a thought in your mid that maybe you could go with him if he did go back. That was a nice thought. And impractical one, but it gave you warm fuzzies nonetheless.

“So, why do you think you like exploring so much?” You asked him after hearing so many stories of all the destinations he’d gone to.

“Who doesn’t like to travel?”

“What you do… it’s not just travelling, it’s not just a vacation. You’re not booked up in five stars hotels in city centers or doing every tacky tourist thing out there. You get at the heart of where you are, you explore it, you don’t just visit it. Why is that?”

“That’s a rather deep question,” he let out a light chuckle, shifting to face you as he closed his eyes, taking a moment to think. “I guess… like you said, I try to get at the heart of the place, not the surface-level stuff everyone else sees. I’ve always had a sort of wanderlust in me. When I was about twelve, I damn near gave my mom a heart attack because I got on a train and wanted to see where it went and ended up fifty miles from home. And now, I don’t know, I guess the stuff everybody else does doesn’t really interest me… the picture that’s painted to tourists of a place isn’t what it actually is, and I want to find out what is. If that makes sense. Did that make sense?”

You swallowed hard, nodding fervently. “Yeah, it did. I completely understand, yeah.”

That’s how he saw the world, and it was beautiful. And maybe you could see it like him; maybe you could look past the picture that’s painted and what everyone else sees to get at the heart.

Up this high, cold started setting in some time long after the sun had finished setting and darkness was all around you, save for the soft glow of the lantern Jeno had going. The temperature wouldn’t drop terribly, but it was cooler than it was during the day, encouraging you to tuck your chilly fingers into the inside of your knees for some warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno frowned, standing up and stepping over to the tent. “I forgot to tell you to bring a jacket, didn’t I?”

“I’m alright, Jeno,” you assured him, but his arm popped back out of the tent holding a couple pieces of clothing.

It was two sweaters, one he offered out to you, the other presumably for himself. You didn’t refuse, which maybe you really should have for professionalism’s sake. Slipping the hoodie over your head then sticking your arms in, you were immediately swallowed up by it. Sure, Jeno was pretty buff, but you were sure this would be oversized even on him.

You didn’t even have to try to pull the sleeves over your hands, sweater paws already there as soon as you’d put it on. Which wasn’t ideal if you wanted to keep writing stuff down for the article.

“I would’ve told you that I’m a human space heater, but I figured this was a little more professional,” he said, heavy implications there.

Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as you took it upon yourself to scoot closer to him until your legs and sides were touching, “This is still professional, just two professionals huddling together for warmth.”

“Yeah.”

You were trying to convince yourself more than you were him, knowing that you couldn’t really fool yourself on this one. But damn, you could pretend you did.

It was pretty soon after he’d gotten sweaters for the two of you that Jeno interjected into your conversation, “So when is the article technically over? When you’re done writing it? When your boss okays it? When it’s compiled with the other articles in that issue of the journal? When the copies hit the shelves and its uploaded to the website?”

You let out a shallow breath, knowing what he was really asking. When can the two of you date?

The part of you that was saying ‘never!’ was getting smaller and smaller, and the part of you who just wanted it to be right now was growing bigger and bigger. And yet, for some reason, you were still listening to the little one.

“I don’t know, probably when it’s officially published. You know, when ‘the copies hit the shelves and it’s uploaded to the website.’”

“When do you think that will be?”

“The first one is being published in this month’s issue. So, depending on how fast I get this one written up and proofed, at the earliest next month.”

“And the latest?”

“A couple months. I’m not sure how long Ms. Zhang will want between the two, if she wants to leave the audience in suspense for longer or give them the next part as soon as possible. Probably the first one, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh,” Jeno’s pout that you could see illuminated from the lantern was suddenly split into a wide yawn. “We should go to sleep, we’ve got the climb back down tomorrow.”

You were glad that he had brought it up first. After all, you were pretty tired, but you weren’t about to be the one to end the nice time you were having. Nodding, you stood, taking the lantern in your hand as Jeno folded the blanket back up.

Ducking into the tent, you immediately plopped down onto your sleeping bag, giving Jeno as much room as possible to maneuver his limbs around as he zipped the tent up behind him and set his stuff down in the corner. You put the lantern down at your feet, keeping the area illuminated as you climbed into your sleeping bag and started settling in for the night.

With the covers pulled up to your shoulders and Jeno’s hoodie bunching around your face in a comfortably warm way, you were pretty content to fall asleep then and there. But the light was still on.

Groaning, you looked down towards your feet, glaring at the lantern you knew you’d have to get un-comfy to turn off. Jeno had a small smile on his face as he sat up, “I’ll get it. You ready to turn it off?”

You nodded, your ‘yes’ muffled by the hoodie.

The last thing you saw before complete darkness was Jeno’s soft grin. That was a rather nice image to have in your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

Eyes fluttering awake, the first thing you were aware of was that you were warm. Very warm. Way too warm. One might say that you were currently in a pool of your own sweat. You’d have to wash this hoodie before giving it back to Jeno, it was definitely disgusting.

Speaking of Jeno, he wasn’t in the tent with you, which you noticed as you peeled the somewhat damp sweater off yourself. You took the opportunity to apply some more deodorant and change your short sleeve shirt before shoving your feet back into your shoes. You headed out of the tent, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you did so.

The very last traces of the sunrise were still in the sky from the little that you could see, but it was definitely morning. Looking around, you spotted Jeno standing a little further away from the tent, holding his hand out towards a lower-hanging branch. You wouldn’t have quite been able to reach it yourself, but he could. Perched atop the branch was a bright blue bird, eating right out of his hand. Your eyes widened just a little at this, though you were too tired to be terribly surprised.

Watching him feed the bird for a little longer, you felt your chest swell. His hair was messy, not having fixed his bedhead yet; a peaceful hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; his big, round, eyes watched the bird eat with a certain simple happiness that for some reason had tears threatening to well up in your own.

You opened your mouth to call out to him, but instead a hoarse croak came out, one that made the bird take off in a flurry of blue feathers and fear. Jeno’s head whipped around to look at the source of the noise, you, and a bright grin came to his features.

“Morning, Y/N,” his voice was even deeper from sleep as he greeted you. He didn’t even seem mad that you’d scared off the bird.

As he approached you, the swell in your chest continued to the point where it hurt, and your vision started going blurry from the tears building up. Jeno’s expression changed to one of concern as he seemed to notice your moist eyes the closer that he got.

“Wh—”

You’d finally gone insane, you’d decided. Absolutely bonkers, completely crazy. After all, how else would you explain the fact that you were now kissing Jeno?

With your hands gripping at his shirt to bring his mouth down to yours, you kissed him like you’d been sick for your whole life and his lips were the cure. All the voices in your head finally shut up, your chest decompressed, and a single tear ran down your face.

He immediately kissed you back, but his hands seemed unsure of what to do, gingerly resting on your arms, featherlight as they hovered there. As if he was afraid that he’d break you, despite the force with which you had crashed your mouth to his.

When you let yourself come back down—and also breathe—you loosened your grip on Jeno’s shirt, releasing him from the slightly hunched position he had been in. Slowly, you brought one of your hands down to wipe away the lone tear.

Jeno was looking at you with a tilted head. “Well, that wasn’t very professional.”

A strangled chuckle escaped your mouth as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, “Yeah, sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said softly, a gentle hand coming to cup your cheek, urging you to look back up at him. And when you did, he lightly brushed his lips against yours. A tender ghost of a kiss, one that didn’t last long as Jeno ended it almost as soon as he’d started it.

Opening your eyes, you saw a nearly silly grin spread across his face, precious giggles bubbling up. His smile was contagious, one gracing your mouth as well.

“Is this going to ruin the integrity of your article?” He asked, still smiling down at you. “If you want this to be a thing, of course.”

“I do, I do,” you nodded fervently, a great weight lifted off your soul now that you let yourself admit that. “I’ll tell Ms. Zhang and see what she wants to do about the articles. Until then, we’ve got to lay low.”

“Movie nights,” he immediately surmised.

Quite liking the idea, you agreed, “Yeah, movie nights.”

The doors opened to the VIP lounge, where you had agreed to meet Jeno after your meeting with your boss. It was almost two weeks after you’d returned from what NingNing was now definitely referring to as your ‘romantic getaway,’ which you couldn’t argue. Most of those two weeks was spent by you finalizing your second article, not wanting to tell Ms. Zhang about how that trip had really gone until after you had work to show for it.

Jeno was waiting for you, already standing up and pacing the small room nervously. He seemed more worried about this than you were, despite it really being your career on the line and not his.

You made a beeline to wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest, and he immediately reciprocated it, holding you closely and pecking the crown of your head.

“Hey, how’d it go?” His gentle tone of voice betrayed his assumptions that it was bad.

Bringing your face out of his chest in order to look up at him, you squealed, “She’s still going to publish them!”

“Ah!” He cried out, tightening his grip on you until it was practically bone-crushing. “I knew it! I knew you were just so good she would have to publish your articles.”

You elaborated, practically buzzing with excitement, “Because I kept out the uh, more private details of the trip and focused on you and the trip itself, she says that it ties up the loose end from the first one nicely. Although, she did recommend not going public until after the second article was out.”

“But you won’t get fired if we don’t abide by that recommendation, right?”

“No, I won’t,” you reassured him, happiness fluttering in your chest as he pecked your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting him peck your lips too before you spoke up. “I do think she’s right, though, we should wait a while to go out in public as a couple.”

Jeno clearly didn’t like that idea, sighing in reply, “Why?”

“It’s been less than a month, what if you decide you don’t like me?”

It was meant to be a joke, but he took it seriously, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then finally your mouth, “Impossible.”

After a moment, he relented, “Alright. I waited two months, another one or so shouldn’t be that bad.”

“Actually, she’s publishing the second article in a special edition that’ll come out two weeks after the first, not a month.”

“I can wait three weeks.”

And wait three weeks he did. Three weeks exactly. Twenty-one days after your conversation in the VIP lounge, two days after your second article hit the shelves, Jeno picked you up for your first public date. This time, you let him come up and get you—your roommate wasn’t home to bother you—and he left his hat and face mask at home.

“Hi Jeno,” you greeted him as you opened the door.

“Hi, baby,” he replied, wasting no time in lacing your fingers together as you walked to the elevator.

As soon as you stepped foot out of your apartment building, whatever resolve he had broke down, and he smooched your cheek loudly. You giggled at the gesture, squeezing his hand to let him know that you were okay with it. After all, you’d made the poor guy wait longer than he should have, some PDA was in order.

The date was at a small café a few blocks over, within walking distance. Which you were sure Jeno appreciated, having a longer time to be out in public with you, never once letting go of your hand or without physical contact with you. He had to let everybody know that you were dating, and you didn’t mind. You liked that he was so ecstatic to be dating you.

At the café, you ordered up at a front counter, and the cashier asked, “Together or separate?”

“Together!” Jeno replied brightly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You leaned over to murmur to him, “She means, are we paying together or separate?”

“Together!” He repeated.

Squinting up at him for a moment, you didn’t argue it, letting him take the check for both of you. Although you did take a few crumpled bills out of your wallet to drop into the tip jar. After getting your food, you eagerly dug in, a light and amicable conversation had between bites.

“So you really waited exactly three weeks, huh?” You teased him.

“The second article came out two days ago, I think that’s plenty of time for everyone to read it,” he defended himself.

“It took you five days to read it.”

He seemed about ready to quip something back when a muffled chorus of squeals cut him off. You took a brief glance around, eyes landing on a group of teenage girls standing just outside the window that you were seated by. They weren’t uncomfortably close, but it was clear what had made them so excited.

Jeno ducked his head shyly as he raised a hand to acknowledge them, only setting their nervous titters off again. This situation was eerily familiar, déjà vu washing over you.

But this time, you were kind of glad that he had left his mask and hat at home, and that he’d chosen a table by the window.

Because your heart soared as you were once again reminded of who exactly the man in front of you was. Not just a model who was known internationally, with fans who would recognize him out and about, with a career and life that was under the public gaze constantly, but also a cute, sweet, funny guy named Lee Jeno.

You could do that. You could subject yourself to that. It would be fine as long as you had Jeno with you.

With the girls still watching the two of you, you reached a hand out across the table towards him. Thankfully, he took your lead, picking it up before pressing a few tender kisses to your fingers. Hopefully the girls got the message that this was romantic and private, and nothing else.

A dating rumor with Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you needed in your life. Lee Jeno was absolutely the one thing you needed in your life.

“Jeno?” You called for his attention, ignoring the gaggle of fans outside the window.

“Yes?” He focused on you, squeezing your hand.

“I have a question…”

“I thought the interview was over,” he pouted teasingly.

“It is, I swear.” You lifted your linked hands pointedly. “I just… There’s something that’s kind of been nagging at me, about the interview.”

“Ask away.”

“Why me? Like, I remember at our first interview session, you thought I was just going to ask you all the normal stuff about celebrity crushes and stuff.”

“You remember what I said, about my parents’ shop? How I used to help out there?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When NingNing brought you to the lounge, and you said that thing about you being a normal person, and me being a supermodel, and how you weren’t comfortable around me because of that, it really hit me. I-I really hated that.”

“Jeno, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s not your fault,” he insisted. “It’s nobody’s fault, that’s just how it is, how our culture is, or whatever. But I hated that you felt like that around me. Because I didn’t use to be like that. I used to be a normal person, too. And I just thought that if you and I had met a few years ago, when I was working in my parents’ shop or something, I could’ve talked to you like a normal guy, and I would’ve been able to put you at ease and flirt with you like a normal person. Instead of having to do it in the most roundabout way like I did this time.”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, you would’ve still been a stupidly attractive register boy, Jeno. I might’ve been a bit tongue-tied if we had met back then, too.”

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

“I guess not,” you clicked your tongue. “Though that would’ve been an even better meet-cute than me saying you looked like a dog.”

“Oh, so we’re not telling that story to our kids?”

“Kids?!” You sputtered out. “When did kids enter the equation here, Lee Jeno?”

“What? Who said that?” He blinked at you innocently.

“At least say the L-word first, jeez.”

“I love you.”

“Christ, I was joking!”

“I wasn’t!”

You shook your head, unable to fight off the smitten grin on your lips. “I love you too, Jeno. You crazy son of a bitch.”

⤷ blog masterlist

[jaylver]

LOVE AT FIRST SPEED — L.HS (TEASER!)

SYNOPSIS: World champion, record breaker, winner of hundreds of races, what does Lee Heeseung want other than that? Apparently, love. Being the greatest doesn't mean that he's doing well. Even though there were many girls already lining up for him, he knew none of them were truly sincere. Constantly alone and devoid of love, he craves it unconditionally. That was until everything changed when he met you, his new next door neighbour that doesn’t even know he’s a famous f1 racer. (subjected to change)

OR! in which a world champion tries scoring the girl next door.

PAIRINGS: F1 driver!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers/neighbours to lovers, love at first sight, formula one au, sports au, romance

WARNING(S): profanities, heeseung is a certified loverboy, partying (more to be added)

RELEASE DATE: READ HERE

TAGLIST CLOSED.

TAGLIST: @silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @seongclb @hepli @jayfrvr @jiawji @acciocriativity @m3chigo @in-somnias-world @ren4luv @k1ttylvr @pluviophilefangirl @skzenhalove @deobitifull @ipoststuffandyeah @shinkenprincess-oh @wvnkoi @renaishun @mars101 @kgneptun @rikisly @soobnisms @noascats @velvtcherie @httpsneptvnn @asteria-wood @jihanlovic @heeseungshim @lilriswife4life @aylin-hijabi @noirxraa @classicroyalty @sseastar-main @eskopiganja @wyeri @pearlwsworld @mimisamisasa @enhastolemyheart @zerasari @3amstarlight @dimplewonie @fluerz @philijack @redm4ri

© jaylver all rights reserved.

– MONTE CARLO, MONACO, 2023

Lee Heeseung was drunk.

Going out with the boys was probably a mistake. Look, it was off season and everyone was back in Monaco, so it definitely sounded like a great idea to go out for a night out, right? Wrong. 

Letting Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Yeonjun and some of the other drivers drag him to a well known club in the city was his first mistake of the night. The second was accepting all of the shots they offered, acting as if the celebrations of him winning his third world championship wasn’t over yet. The alcohol that took over his senses only made him stumble to the dance floor, dancing wildly with girls surrounding him, not giving a care if a camera was capturing everything. That was his third mistake.

By the end of the night, every one of them were equally shitfaced. It wasn’t a great look, and he was sure their personal trainers weren’t going to be happy at all. Heeseung, in particular, was taking it better than the rest, though still slurring and stumbling around, at least he managed to tell his address fully to the taxi driver. 

Getting dropped off at the lobby looking absolutely destroyed was humbling. He kept his head low, reminding himself that he had a reputation to maintain and went for the elevator, pressing the number of his floor. He was leaning against the wall, holding it for support as he slowly sobered up, trying his best to feel around his body for his keycard.

“Fuck,” he cursed out, unable to remember where it was with that hazy mind of his. 

The elevator stopped at his floor with a ‘ding’, grabbing his attention from his ongoing search for the moment. He trudged along the quiet hallway, dragging his feet and mumbling his regrets. One thing’s for sure was that he should not rely on Jake for claiming it was a ‘light party’. Light party my ass.

Standing in front of his door to the apartment, he was dying to get in and crash into his comfortable bed. However, he remembered what he was struggling to find: his keycard. God, why me, he thought. 

His head was beginning to spin and it was not helping. He was slipping his hand into his back pockets, shirt pockets that didn’t even exist because he’s wearing a button up, then his socks, which was absolutely insane. No, Lee Heeseung was turning insane. At one point, he let out a sigh and leaned his head on his door, swearing that he was about to collapse out of fatigue.

“Uh—are you okay?” Was that a voice coming from the pits of his head? It couldn’t be, it was a woman’s voice. “Mister?”

Heeseung turned around in a blink of an eye, almost letting out a yelp in shock when his eyes landed on you. Even in his drunken daze, he was still able to make out how pretty you were. There you were, standing in a party dress that was enough to tell him you were out clubbing too, makeup that was intact and heels in one hand, creating a small height difference between him and you.

“Huh?” That was probably the dumbest thing he could let out at that moment. Wake up, he cursed at himself. “You’re not that old lady,”

“She moved away,” you guessed he was referring to the old lady that sold you her apartment, the one that was next to this … guy. “I’m guessing you were not here a few months ago to even realise I’m your new neighbour?”

Well, no, Heeseung was busy winning his championship in Abu Dhabi during then. 

He didn’t say that though, instead he shrugged, liking the fact that you were oblivious he was someone well known. “I travel for work, so not really. My apologies,”

“I see,” you nodded your head, continuously cautious, he could see that. “Do you have trouble entering your own home?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You were searching for something—even in your socks,”

“Oh,” he licked his lips, currently embarrassed. “I—uh—don’t know where my keycard is,”

“Have you searched your pockets?”

“Yes,”

“Wallet?”

Heeseung paused. “No …”

“Try searching, I’m sure it’s there somewhere,” you were so confident in saying that, which made Heeseung uneasy and doubtful. How would you know it was there and he didn’t? 

You pulled out your own keycard, pressing against the sensor and your door unlocked with a click, but before you went in and left Heeseung behind, you scrunch your nose up. “You should probably sober up … and also wash away the perfumes on your shirt. It’s heavy,”

Once you shut your door, Heeseung scoffed. He lowered his head to the sleeves of his button up shirt and inhaled, the smell of perfumes from the girls he danced with clung to the fabric desperately. He hated that you weren’t completely wrong. Then, he reached for his wallet, rolling his eyes at your voice in his head, but was once proven right again when he saw his glistening keycard there. For fuck’s sake.

Now, he was guessing he probably set a bad impression on you, making you think he was some stupid womaniser. Gosh, the way your eyes narrowed at him was burnt into his mind. 

Heeseung was not getting much sleep that night.

. . . to be continued !

[writing-mlm]

Hii I just found your blog actually and I love your stories,and uh,per say if I were to request a spencer reid x m reader where reader is a famous author and composer and whenever the team meets him it's pure chaos,just fluff in general actually. you don't have to do this if you don't want to of course! - Moony (shh it's a nickname that stuck)

Don't Spoil the Ending

Summary: Meeting your boyfriend's friends is a natural step but what isn't is them harassing you because you keep killing their favorite characters Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male reader W.C: 3k a/n: PLEASE I KNOW THIS TOOK ACTUAL YEARS IM SORRY oh and the walking dead spoilers ig

Whenever Spencer had one of his spells, whether that be his migraines or moments where the world just feels too much. Too heavy, too big, too scary, he went to your house. Your house, his escape from everything. A quaint home he could see himself moving into. 

A lovely one-bedroom, two-story home tucked into a hidden part of the city. There’s a small garden in the back, hardly filled with vegetables and mainly flowers. The front lawn, when he had first seen it, was mowed down to the dirt and replaced with various native plants. It didn’t take long for it to get to its current state, a lovely amalgamation of plants and wildlife that thrived in the almost cottage-looking home. 

He eyed the official state-provided Certified Wildlife Habitat sign that hung just in front of the property and let his messenger bag slump from his shoulder. There was no need to keep up appearances, not when you open the door and wait for him with a cup in hand. His mug. His mug you’d gotten him from the flea market on your first date and had remained in your house since the tenth date where he had to rush out for a case and never picked it back up. 

“Should I cancel with your team?” You ask, voice soft as he takes the mug and nearly inhales the tea. He looks at you, confused and you know then and there the headache is bad. “Your team is supposed to come over for dinner today.” Blinking, he sets the mug down on the shoe rack and kicks his shoes off. 

“No,” He sighs, his internal debate lasting nearly two whole minutes. “A nap and the rest of the tea should be fine.” It wouldn’t, you both know that but the dinner has been rescheduled twice already. Once due to the flu that was making its rounds through the entire team and another because you had an emergency to attend to. 

“Okay,” You hum, locking the door. He eyes each of the three locks and finds your hand. “Do you want to hear a specific symphony?” 

“Do you have anything new?” He asks, letting you guide him up the old wooden stairs to your bedroom. 

“I do,” You nod. “I learned some music from Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“For inspiration for the DreamWorks movie?” Nodding, he sits with his back pressed to your headboard and the blankets pulled up to his belt. 

“Remember to take off anything tight. So your belt, those socks, and such.” He smiles and nods, doing that as you leave the room and make your way down to the living room. Your piano is loud and sits at the perfect volume from your bedroom for his headaches. At night it’s amazing, the black-out curtains and the hidden glow-in-the-dark stickers around your room make him fall asleep in minutes. 

He listens as the steps creak and gets to work on getting himself comfortable. He should get up within the next two hours and help you prepare dinner for the team. But he doubts you’d actually wake him up on time for that and wait until everything is done so he could rest for as long as possible. 

Sipping the tea, he grabs his phone and sets a timer before placing it under the pillow. It’s silent but the vibrations will wake him up if you don’t. After doing that, he sets his things on the rocking chair and hears the starting notes of the music drifting up. He tries his best to focus on the music and not the notes themselves as he tucks himself into bed. 

—

He was right. 

He was absolutely right in that you wouldn’t wake him up. You even took away his phone when you went to check on him sometime later. He only woke up when he smelt the food coming from the oven and the loud ow you hissed when you bumped your forearm against the oven racks. 

He doesn’t bother to fix himself as he stuffs his feet into his house slippers and begins his descent down to the kitchen. 

“Aw, sorry, hun. I didn’t mean to wake you,” You call over your shoulder, hearing the banister creek under his hand. 

“You should’ve,” He chided while wiping the sleep from his eyes. His migraine is gone, which is honestly surprising. It must’ve been a terrible headache, then. Especially considering he doesn’t medicate for them anymore. “I was supposed to help you. You didn’t even let me buy groceries.” He frowns, staring at the array of food you’d made. 

“Please,” You dismiss, putting a damp cloth over your burnt forearm. “My brother came over while you slept and made half of it. New recipes for his restaurant.” Spencer looks at the fancy little labels on the trays; shawarma, broccoli cheddar potatoes, sun-dried tomato pasta, garlic bread, baked ziti, and lemon pepper chicken. 

“Did you already make the dessert? I can help with that,” He offers, scanning the counters. 

“You needed your rest, Spencer. Everything is already made and Derek said he’ll be here in ten. He’s picking up Penelope and Emily.” He stares at you and you stare back. “Fine. I haven’t finished cleaning the living room. Could you grab the extra chairs from the shed? Or grab the large tray from the cabinet and organize the brownie dip?”

“I got the brownie dip,” Heading out to the shed, you grab four foldable chairs and remind yourself to clean the dusty leather once you get back inside. You’d rearranged your entire living room and dining room for today. The couches, which used to be in a more closed position, were all shoved against the walls and the shelves you had were hidden away inside of your shed. Your coffee table, which Spencer vaguely remembered had different shapes, was out in its longest form and several coasters were scattered around. Not to mention plate mates stacked on the edge. 

He’s glad you left the wall decorations up, although he thinks you could’ve done without the framed picture of you and him at your cousin's wedding where he has cake smashed on his face and your fingers are covered in white frosting. You still deny doing that. 

“Like this?” He asks once you’re done cleaning the chairs. Peering over his shoulder, you rub along his hips and nod. 

“Looks perfect. Have you tried it yet?” He shakes his head and you grab a graham cracker and put some of the dip on it. He takes it and tries it, aware of your gaze on him. 

“It’s good.” He affirms and you nod, grabbing a strawberry and dipping it inside. 

“My nan used to make it when we were kids. It’s super good, but she added rainbow sprinkles.” The doorbell rings and Spencer goes upstairs to get himself properly dressed while you go to the door. 

“Hey, guys!” You greet them, their names popping into your head as you see them. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Your lawn is beautiful,” Penelope says as she hugs you, careful to not drop the dish she’s brought. You think it’s some type of finger food because it moves around. “How’d you get it like that?”

“Oh, thanks. It’s almost native plants. The bees and butterflies do most of the work.” Stepping aside, you greet Emily and Derek and check outside. There’s no one else so you close and lock the door. Just one lock so you don’t have to keep undoing it until everyone gets there. 

“This is lovely,” Emily says, her eyes taking in your home. She eyes the support beams and then the vintage wallpaper. “Aw, look at Spencer!” She laughs, staring at the picture from the wedding just as he’s coming down the stairs. His arm snakes around your waist and you hold his hand, eyeing their shoes. 

“Do you guys want some house slippers?” He asks for you and takes them to the closet where you keep them. You bought some new ones just for today. When they return the door rings again and this time Spencer gets the door while you set out the food. You’ve never really hosted before, so you awkwardly stand in the space between the dining room and living room until Spencer beckons you over. 

“This is Hotch and Jack, you’ve met JJ, her husband Will, and their sons. Henry and Michael. He introduces and you shake hands with the men and wave at the boys. 

“It’s good to see you again,” JJ says as she pulls you in for a hug. You’ve met her twice, once at the park accidentally and another while you both were hanging out with your sister and niece at the mall. 

“Likewise, please sit. The food is done so feel free to serve yourself.” 

She nods and she and Hotch set their food next to the rest of the food. She’d brought three bags of chips and Hotch had gotten ham and cheese sliders. Derek had made macaroni and cheese, Penelope brought over zucchini garlic bites, and Emily brought over two bottles of red wine. 

“This is a lovely house,” Will says as the two of you stand awkwardly, watching the others talk to each other. 

“Thank you. You have a lovely family,” He smiles over at them and nods. 

“Are you and Spencer ever gonna…” He trails and you suck in a breath. Your home isn’t exactly big enough for kids, maybe just you and Spencer. It’s not even ideal for hosting, but you made it work. 

“One day, maybe.” You answer, looking at him as he’s holding Henry. “We haven’t talked about that yet.” He nods and you get to leave when Rossi knocks on the door. 

“Am I the last one?” He asks upon hearing the noise. 

“They say the best is last, no?” He laughs and nods, presenting his famous pasta and you happily lead him to the food table. Some of the food is already gone and you see Spencer holding two plates. Making your way over to him, his eyes light up and he hands you one of the plates. 

“I noticed some of it was going quickly,” He explains as you take the plate. It’s piled in neat forms, none of the food touching each other. “So, I made you what I thought you’d like.” Thanking him, you drag him to a seat and everyone settles down with their plates. 

Turning the TV on, you put on a random show and tune the conversation going on around you. 

“This is really good,” JJ says, pointing her fork at the broccoli cheese potatoes. 

“Is it?” You ask and get an enthusiastic yes from Jack. “I’m allergic to broccoli so I’ve never actually tried it.” 

“Aw man, you’re missing out.” Derek sighs, rubbing his stomach after he’d eaten three of them and you laugh, twirling the plastic fork around the Rossi pasta. 

“(Y/n)’s brother owns a restaurant, he’s thinking of adding those to the menu.” Spencer explains and you nod, putting the fork down. 

“It’s called Bun-Apple Tea. He’s thinking of adding those, the tomato pasta, and the baked ziti to his menu. I’m usually his test subject but he appreciates the wider audience.” 

“Oh, he should add it.” Will says. He’s been busy feeding Michael bites of the garlic bread while also feeding himself the macaroni and cheese. “I took JJ there once, she loved it.” She nods and recounts the experience and your eyes widen. 

“I worked that day!” You admit. “I was playing some music, were you the couple that had ordered the mushroom soup and the couple next to you tried to steal it?” 

“Oh my god, yes!” She laughs. “You were playing the piano, right?” You nod and tell the story to the others.

“Spencer mentioned you’re a writer, too, right?” Hotch asks. 

“I am,” Sheepishly, you look at Spencer. He smiles at you, not even sorry that he talks to his friends about you and your jobs. “I mainly write young adult fiction but I’ve started writing science fiction.” You elaborate. 

“One of his books is getting a TV show.” Spencer easily boasts and everyone congratulates you. “He’s also going to be the lead composer for it.”

“That’s amazing.” Emily says. “What book is it?”

“It’s one of my series; The Walking Dead. It was also a comic book for a special edition my publisher did.” The conversations devolve until you get up for a second plate of food from the kitchen. Spencer follows you with a large grin and fixes himself some more juice. 

“They like you,” He says and you look over at him. “I knew they would, of course.” He adds. “But this… wow. We should have a watch party for when the show comes out.”

“Maybe.”

—

“Ahh! My friend made this!” Penelope shouts as she shakes your shoulder. The first episode of The Walking Dead was set to air in just a couple of seconds and as Spencer predicted; it turned into a watch party.

It’s been nearly a year since the first time you’ve met them and you’ve been busy composing and having the final say over most of the show. Spencer sometimes tags along, giving his opinion on how certain things would look from a scientific standpoint. But there’s a lot of far-fetched imagination when it comes to zombies and what people could do. 

You think he just likes learning from the design crew on how they do things. He does. But he also likes seeing your book come to life, remembering each detail, and having people fix them without you noticing. 

Everything had come to fruition after several months of working and pitching ideas, not to mention filming and creating sets. 

You’re all at JJ’s house, scattered amongst the floor with the boys upstairs asleep. You’d warned them it’s definitely not suitable for them just yet and they trusted that. 

“This opening is good.” Derek says and you thank him. You want to tell him it was you and Bear McCreary who helped compose and Dominik Hauser who helped perform it with you but you don’t think he cares all that much. 

Spencer lays his head on your shoulder and you wrap your arm around him, happily watching the show that you know is going to ruin them forever. You’re glad they haven’t read the books, because damn. You look at all these faces that don’t make it to the final chapter and wonder how mad they’re going to be when their favorite will inevitably die. 

And boy, did they hate you. 

By the end of season one they all but refused to tell you their favorite characters. Never mind the story has been written and you couldn’t change it. Penelope would send you voicemails crying whenever she watched an episode early, yelling at you for killing her favorite character or someone who definitely didn’t deserve it. You made it up to her by being able to let her meet the actors during Comic Con the same year. 

Spencer, on the other hand, knows everything. They’ll pester him at work for spoilers and he’d just shrug. 

“I don’t remember who died.” He tells Morgan one day. 

“You remember what you ate for breakfast when you were ten. You know who dies this season! Who is it?” Derek demands, following Spencer out of the bullpen and into the elevator. 

“I know,” Emily grins.

“How?” Derek asks, his gaze accusing Spencer of spilling the beans to her but not to him. 

“It was a book first, genius,” She reminds him and shrugs. “I got tired of waiting and just read the book for this reason.” Stepping into the elevator Derek groans. He’s not going to read the book. 

“How’d you like it?” Spencer asks and she groans, throwing her head back. 

“It was so good! The deaths hurt like a bitch.” She explains and he laughs. 

“His sister blocked him for a month for killing this one character.” He explains and she nods, that’s completely justified. 

The elevator doors open and they spot you waiting at the front of the building, holding a cup of coffee and talking to JJ. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” He kisses your forehead as your conversation comes to a natural stop. 

“Sup,” Handing him the coffee, you greet the others. “I got your email Derek, and I’m not telling you.” You all walk outside and Derek pushes your head. 

“I’ll just read the book.” He turns his nose up and you hum.

“This book took Spencer twenty minutes to read.”

“Damn. How long is the audiobook?”

“About thirty-six hours,” Spencer answers. “Thirty-five hours and fifty-two minutes long.”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll wait,” 

“I couldn’t.” JJ sighs. “I finished the book last night.” He huffs and leaves the group, heading to his car. The others laugh and also split up leaving just you and Spencer. 

“They’re not ready for Carl’s death.” He tells you, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“You certainly weren’t,” You snicker, grabbing him by his wrist. “Now let’s hurry, I still need your opinion on suits for the award show.”

—

“You’re hurting my ears,” You tell Emily as she plays your piano in all the wrong ways. “My poor baby is being abused by you, I hope you know that. You monster.”

“What about me?” Penelope grins, playing your violin. 

“You’re actually killing me. The two of you are going to become murderers at this rate.” She frowns and checks her fingers on the violin before playing one actual note. “That was good. But I can also see JJ about to pick up my trombone and that thing was my very first instrument so she should put it down.” Carefully, she sets it back in the case and Spencer comes down the stairs with Derek close behind. 

“Oh, are we playing?” Derek asks and b-lines for the cello you have. 

“They’re killing me,” You mumble to Spencer at the base of the stairs. Neither of you are hiding your expressions, not even when JJ joins Emily on the bench and they play horrid— horrid sounds. 

“I’m about to spoil the Glenn death to get them to stop.” You whisper, staring at Penelope as she pressed too hard on the strings and winced. 

“Don’t,” He gasps. “They’ll never recover.”

“Good. Neither will my ears after this torture!”

[spikezonebby]

Hiii!! Can I request a gn!human reader song fic with the song Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan, with Tfp ratchet,

maybe some angst of ratchet realizing how frail his human is, and how he’s going to lose them eventually?

Everywhere, Everything - TFP!Ratchet/Human!GN!Reader

Word count: 1,352

Cybertronian protoform could score and dent, but ultimately all it took was a bit of filler and a bit of sanding to make it look as if nothing had happened. Organic flesh, though? Stitches, antiseptic, and time, then you’re still left with bumps, ridges, and discoloration that would take more pain yet to smooth away.

Ratchet had treated more than a few human wounds. Miko’s scraped knees, asphalt and gravel chunks in Jack’s hands, and the occasional bloody nose from Raf. You, though, could pinpoint the exact moment that the gears really started turning in Ratchet’s processor that things really, REALLY could be worse.

It was when Miko, in all her infinite wisdom, thought it would be fun to make everyone watch one of the Final Destination movies. The amount of car wreckages and graphic, often cartoonishly so, carnage wouldn’t be easy on anyone’s stomach or, uh… Fuel pump, in Bulkhead’s case. You had no idea Cybertronians could vomit but the floor behind the sofa has personal experience. 

Bumblebee tapped out immediately after to ‘go on patrol,’ as Raf had translated. Arcee wasn’t really paying attention and was much more enthralled with watching Jack play with a language app on his phone, occasionally giving him hints and pointers. Miko ended up abandoning her movie to go and wrangle Bulkhead, and of course, Optimus had other things to attend to. Which left just you and Ratchet.

You were going to offer to go do something else with your guardian when the medic’s servo cups around you, scooting you against his thigh. And, well, it’s hard not to feel safe when you’re securely held like the world’s dumbest hamster between two different surfaces of warm living metal. You push yourself up on his thigh, laying yourself as flat against his plating as possible to catch his attention.

“Yes?” He tacks your name onto the end, but his optics are affixed to the screen and his expression has this pinched look of concentration. 

“You okay, doc? You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

“What gills are you…” His optics finally flick down to you and it seems he registers the figure of speech. You love it when he gives you that funny, confused and exasperated look. He just looks so cute.

“I’m fine. Just thinking is all.”

Oh, there we go. There’s the dam breaking. You let him know you’re listening by looping your arm around his thumb and coaxing him to curl his digits loosely around you. His expression softens, especially when you press your cheek into the crux of his thumb and forefinger.

“How has your species survived when things like this,” He gestures to the screen with his off hand, “Can happen in the flicker of an optic?”

“The movie? Ratch, a lot of this is highly dramatized and takes astronomical amounts of bad luck.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say we’re brimming with good fortune around here.” Ratchet says with an audible grimace.

“Well,” You wrap your arms around his thumb, then press a kiss to his pad, “I still think I’m one very lucky human.” 

It is then, that you fear, Ratchet was thinking about a little more than just how accident prone humans tend to be. He scoops you up in his servo and holds you to his chest until you’re close enough to his workbench for you to set him down.

Ratchet snorts a chuckle, but he doesn’t seem wholly convinced. His index finger comes around and gently strokes down your back as the medic bot becomes lost in thought once more. The movie ends and everyone who’s left– Just you two plus Arcee and Jack, really– Returns to their stations. Ratchet takes you with him back to the medbay so you can ‘help him test something.’

“M.E.C.H was certifiably insane but they knew what they were lacking.” Ratchet muses, knocking his knuckles against his own chassis, “Humans are soft, squishy, and vulnerable. Of course some kind of armor would be the logical choice. Not certain why your evolution hasn’t started developing something of that sort, you have animals that have done it already.”

“Probably because we’re not animals.” You point out, letting Ratchet go about taking tons and tons of tiny measurements with various rudimentary tools kept in the medbay, “Well, we are but not that kind of animal. And evolution takes millions of years of environmental pressures to stimulate. Instead of getting tougher, humans evolved to be smarter. Don’t have to protect yourself from a situation if you can avoid being in said situation to start with.”

Ratchet actually has to pause in his measuring to give you a long, weary look.

“Okay we you’ve seen evidence of this, Ratch. Example A, Miko and Raf.”

“Alright, alright.” Ratchet sighs, taking a seat at the workbench before you. “You have me there. I’m not giving up so easily though. There has to be something I can do.”

“Babe,” It’s your turn to sigh as you pat your hand against Ratchet’s forearm plating. “You’re like three degrees off of going full Shockwave, I can feel it.”

Ratchet sputters, “I am not! I actually have a medical license!”

“Ratchet,” You say his name as a fond, tired note that you mean with so much love, even if you know he might not listen to you. “Come down here for me, please.”

He’s still just a little offended by the Shockwave comment, but he leans down anyway, resting his weight on his arms so his face is level with you. Immediately you flatten your palms out on the white kibble on his cheeks. He leans into your hands, and you take the opportunity to bump your forehead– Or rather, your entire head– between his red chevron brows.

“Talk to me, doc.” You say, as his optics finally meet your gaze, “Where’s your head at?”

His expression screws up, like a kid that just licked a lemon, but you hold him there and you let him find his words.

“...I can’t be there all the time.” He begins, clipped and shamed. You don’t interrupt him. When he lifts his helm up and away from you, he doesn’t leave you entirely and instead cups you in both of his servos. “I hate the thought that something might happen to you and I won’t be there to save you.”

“Ratchet…”

“And we can’t just lock you up here with us! Primus, the kids need someone looking out for them while the others are off getting the slag beat out of them.”

“Ratch, I’ve been surviving most of my adult life on my own. I’m capable of getting myself out of a scrape.”

“That was before you got pulled into all of this war nonsense! And I wish Optimus would just listen to me when I say you would have been better off if you couldn’t prove we were real and then maybe the ‘Cons couldn’t find you.”

“...But then we wouldn’t be partners.”

Ratchet sighs, optics slipping shut as he tries to compose his thoughts. He shakes his helm.

“And I… I almost hate that thought more than seeing you hurt. Almost.”

You know he means it. You know how much he cares about you and what he’d sacrifice just for your sake. But he’s forgetting one vital thing.

“My feelings matter here too. And I can tell you with absolute certainty… My life is better, richer, with you guys in it.”

You reach up and coax your big medbot back down to you. He obliges, and you happily flatten yourself out against his cheek in a hug.

“I don’t ever wish not to be here, because then I know I’d lose one of the most important things in my life. You guys– Arcee, Bee, Bulk, Smokey, Optimus, you– are my family. And I can’t see myself anywhere but right by your side.”

Ratchet’s vocalizers make this low static rumble as he leans into you, cupping your tiny body against him in his servo.

“Gah, you’re sappy.” Ratchet grumbles, you just laugh.

“I mean it, though.”

“Yeah. I know you do.” 

[googleitlol]

Two questions! Well, one’s more like a prompt/scenario, but I’m still saying it!

Do you have any plans on getting back to your “The Memory of You” fanfic in the future? Because I’m a certified Macaque wimp (right there with Wukong) and I’m dying to know everything that happened between him and Lian!😭

And second:

I just got myself Black Myth Wukong brainrot and I randomly thought of a situation where Dove would wake up from a nightmare about Wukong’s death, and she instinctively places a hand over the Destined One’s heart to hear it beating because of his resemblance and everything. And the Destined One just helps hold her hand to his chest and resting his own hand over hers until she calms down🥲💘💞

1) Omg tbh I didn't realise ppl were still reading that one! I'm focusing on PoM rn so I don't think I'll be getting to it anytime soon unfortunately. I do wanna continue it tho, and rewrite some stuff too! My google doc is so big for TMoY that if you wanted, I could totally answer some asks about it. Since I'm focusing on Dove and Wukong rn, I wouldn't mind sharing some secrets about Lian and Macaque's past (I will yap so much abt them, I love Lian she's my sweetheart).

I also took a break from writing that fic because, uhhhhh… I had only seen part of season 4 when I started writing the backstory for Lian, did some research into chinese mythology and legends I could pull from… then after posting a bunch of chapters, I watched the rest and realised I accidentally made her backstory/creation extremely similar to someone else (if you're caught up on the show, you'll know who I'm talking about). They both involve, uh… similar people?? So I got spooked and decided to wait a bit to see if that character's backstory would be like what I'd written for Lian and… it's starts out very similar 💀

But honestly, I think I'm gonna keep it the same cuz I love Lian, and I love the story I've made for her and Macaque. So if you've got any questions abt them, I'd be happy to answer until I shift my focus back onto TMoY.

2) Oh, and… my god. I love this idea of yours. That dream. Hoo boy, that dream. I love it when people understand the sort of angst I wanna put Dove under. Running to her love, knowing what's about to happen but too far to stop it. Maybe if he saw her, if he knew she was coming, maybe he'd still be there. But no matter how much her throat scratches as she screams, no sound is made. No matter how fast she runs, how far she pushes herself, nothing changes.

The Destined One frowns, he's seen her like this on so many nights. There's something that's plaguing her… he just doesn't know what. She shuts him down at any and all moments he has to inquire about her night-terrors. Still, he's found a subtle way to help in the best way he can. After one night where she reached out for him and he let her hand press against his chest, he noticed how she calmed a bit.

That becomes their nightly ritual. Whenever he notices how she starts to mumble in her sleep, shout and cry, he'll cuddle up next to her and hold her in his arms. He'll keep her head pressed against his chest so she can hear his heart– that always calms her down. As long as she has something, her hand or even an ear pressed to his heart, she'll calm down. Maybe the first few nights he started doing this, she'd cuddle up to him a bit. He'd be awkward about it at first, but eventually grow used to it. After a while, he'd find that he actually really enjoys spending those nights with Dove in his arms.

[dendrobium-writes]

"Quite the mystery, huh?"

"Huh?" You reply, looking up from your lowest-bidder, board-certified meal. "That new pilot. The one you guys got saddled with after that inter-corp incident?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess so. I've never been one for indulging rumors." You reply, shoveling another spoonful of slop into your mouth.

Your fellow pilot sits beside you. Did he even ask? Well, whatever. He seems to mean well, trying to make conversation like this.

"Well, you work directly with 'em, right?" Setting your spoon down again, you finally turn to face the young pilot. He couldn't be older than 22. Still, not the youngest pilot you've seen. "Yeah, I do. They're my flight lead." You clarify.

"Oh, no kidding! So you've talked to 'em?" Normally, that would be an obvious "Yes", but you stop and think for a moment before answering.

You haven't heard their voice. Not a single time. They just do their thing and you follow as best you can. You've never seen them at meals. They attend mission briefings virtually. Video calls are answered by an empty room and silence, but they're still acknowledged.

The rumors you've heard start to invade your thoughts. About this new pilot being sublimated, or a straight up machine, or just cover for some new UAV tech. So much for not indulging.

"... No." You answer, after your brief mental tangent. "No, I haven't." He stops and blinks at you. "Seriously?" He replies in disbelief. "I really haven't, not once." You respond. "Well, maybe you should go pay them a visit." Your conversational partner shrugs. The idea hadn't really occurred to you. You figured that if they never went anywhere, they must just be too busy. But now...? Well, your curiosity is getting the better of you. You stand up and thank your fellow for the chat, discarding your tray and silverware. He sees you off with a wave. You make your way down one of the adjacent corridors to the personnel wing and find the room belonging to your flight lead. You buzz the door and the light on the exterior camera shines red, indicating that it's being used. You look into the lens and wave. "Uh. Hey! We haven't really gotten a chance to be formally introduced. I wanted to stop in and say hello." You say, scratching the back of your head. The light on the camera turns off for a moment, before the door slides open. You enter the quarters - which, to your shock - is completely empty. It's decorated, however. Posters of various aircraft and technology. A few pink light strips and neon signs. You start to think about what kind of person your flight lead might be based on the decor. You don't have a ton of time to speculate though, as the computer monitor flickers to life. "The hell...?" You mutter to yourself. On closer inspection, a command prompt has appeared.

>hi!

[ponds-of-ink]

The Certified Pond Analysis of Scraptrap Voicelines

Because I haven’t talked about this rabbit’s voice lines as much as I should.

Buckle up. This is gonna get wordy.

-

So, going in the order of this video, we have:

“I always come back!”

The most quoted Afton line. And understandably so. This is the man at his most triumphant, even with his.. questionable suit-repair choices. The emphasis on “always” as well as the moderately louder volume really sells that confident air Springtrap continues to have in FNAF AR. Though, as we’ll soon see, this is not the only emotion he feels as Scraptrap.

(Also, before we continue: This gives me the first point on the “I can hear the smile in his voice” scoreboard. It’s a surprise tool that should help us later.)

”Bittersweet, but fitting”

…And by “later”, I apparently mean now.

There may be a smirk at the end, but it’s not a strong one. The overall line read is much more reserved here. Maybe even somber, if I’m inferring correctly. The choice of words is interesting here too. Whoever’s the owner of the Pizza Sim building, he may not be as fond of jumpscaring them as one would think…

”What a deceptive calling! I knew it was a lie the moment I heard it— Obviously, but it is intriguing nonetheless…”

Ah, yes. The big monologue post-Salvage. Couple of things I noticed here that aren’t debatable lore implications:

(1) Man’s rushing through that second half for some reason. Don’t know if that was an editing error, an intentional line read, or Scraptrap trying to.. reason with himself? Sound smarter than he thinks he is? I dunno, something about the pacing is off here.

(2) Oh, hey, first line with a “snake hiss”! This isn’t a consistent trait with his lines, but it’s a key feature that I use to differentiate Springtrap and Scraptrap during voice impressions.

(3) This man puts so much emphasis on words sometimes. So much so that I can not only hear the smile near the end, but I can also feel the eye roll during “deceptive”. And PJ Heywood never voice acted before FNAF apparently? H u h.

Anyway, moving on before I start implying that Scrap-Trap might’ve been lured in by a newspaper or something…

“Fascinating! What they have become…”

Another point to the “I can hear the smile” board. We’re on three points now; three and a half if you count “Bittersweet”.

This one I’ve already brought up before, but the abridged analysis is: This guy (unlike Glitch-Trap in that one Security Breach trailer) actually compliments his.. uh.. teammates? Workmates? ..Just realized that the relationship dynamic between the Salvage Gang doesn’t have an official term. Bummer.

That aside, it’s genuinely interesting that he doesn’t diss them at all. You think he would given his reputation, but no. He just has this twisted sense of “oh wow they’re so cool”.

…Come to think of it, has he directly dissed somebody in the games specifically? I’m not even sure if the “Deceptive Calling” monologue or the AR Springtrap lines count. AR Springtrap tends to boast about himself more than put the player down and Scraptrap was having an ‘I’m smarter than that lol” moment.

If I’m right, then I think I may have found a proper difference between a pretend Mimic Afton and the real one. Huh.

“How can I resist a promise such as this?”

Getting back to the main topic, we’ve got a return for the snake hiss and the emphasis on certain words. Also, add another point to “I can hear the smile”— Except it’s more of a smug grin than a bizarre, wide-eyed look of wonder.

Not sure what that promise is post-jumpscare, but I do know that this has a chance to play during the office sections. So the promise is either Henry’s lure or seeing his son Mike one last time. I dunno, dude, it’s all vague to me.

”That was easier than I thought it would be…”

AKA The line that makes me wonder “Dude, you good?”

No seriously. The quick halt in-between the second and third word. The sudden choke that happens at the end. Like his voice just properly broke for the first time in ages. The overall somberness of it all. There is literally no smile here and I’ve checked. There may even be tears starting to well up, but I obviously can’t be sure.

It’s even implied that he thought he’d had a tougher time fighting the owner! He actually assumed he wouldn’t win this easily!

Something about this feels.. unnerving. He’s not supposed to sound this upset. At least, not usually. So what, pray tell, is going on with this voice line?? Why was this the take Scott used??

“You may not recognize me at first, but I assure you: It’s still me”

Well, that’s one more point for the “I can hear the smile” board. Also, I believe this is confirmation of that ‘Springtrap switched suits after FNAF 3’ theory? That’s what it sounds like, at least?

But, hey, at least Scrap-Trap is canonically aware of the sudden shift in appearance. Let’s hope his potential FNAF World 2 version isn’t as nervous about it as I assume FNAF 6 him would be… If he had access to the internet, of course.

Also, for the one person who may or may not care about this: He’s using contractions here. I think it’s been established that he only uses these at certain times, but I can’t remember where exactly I read that analysis. Anyway, he’s unafraid about “slipping up” at this point.

One more thing…

Compared to AR Springtrap, Scraptrap is much more.. casual in tone, if that’s the best way to put it. Much more low energy, though his antics are anything but.

Like, yes, he’s still coming for you if you keep letting ads play on your computer. But maybe he’ll let you live for a few seconds longer just so you could turn the ad off? He’s not in a rush, as far as I can tell.

Maybe that’s another reason why my brain jumps to Scraptrap more than Springtrap. If he wasn’t tied to this “attacking the guard” business, he could probably chill for a second and give advice on paperwork. Wouldn’t last for long, of course, but at least one could potentially die knowing that you drank coffee with a much more business-savvy Spring Bonnie… Grungy though he looks. Springtrap, on the other hand, wouldn’t give you the time of day.

TL;DR:

PJ Heywood put more nuance into this guy than even I was expecting. Big round of applause, genuinely.

[jonahmagnus]

How I think the TOH characters would react to you asking their pronouns:

1) Luz Noceda

Start of season one: "Uh, she/her! I think."

By the end of season one: "She/her! For noww~..." *double pistols and a wink*

Season two: "She/they baby! What about you?"

Season three: "She/they, but I dont really care."

Post show: "Ehhh, call me whatever. Follow your heart! See where the wind takes you. Look into the sunset. Listen to the whistle of the sea breeze. The answer lies within your heart, you just have to listen" *leaves before you can figure out what the fuck that means*

2) Gus Porter

"He/they, thanks for asking!" Hes a gay ally at the start of season one, but only because he learned about how humans are opporessed for "being happy" in their realm and that broke his heart so much he swore to stand by any "gay" human he ever found. So he self-identifies as an ally dispite being literally bisexual. Luz considers explaining what gay means in human modern context, but decides this is funnier, and then forgets about it.

3) Willow Park

Start of season one: "O-oh! She/they, thanks for asking! What about you?" A little unsure of herself gender wise but is coming into it

By season two: "They/She! What about you?" *Winks* By this point shes grown into herself and identifies as nonbinary. However, hes still not ready to peer into the depths of his soul and acknowledge the true hidden truth at the bottom there. No little plant boy dont internalize that!!!!

Post-show: "She/he/they, thanks for asking!" This is still fully a lie but he plays cat and mouse with his own gender for a couple years after the show. Literally refuses to think about it. He has other shit going on (he doesnt).

Finally, post-post-show: "He/him! Yours?" He is a nonbinary butch womanthing. Thank god he finally figured that out. Amity and Gus quietly exchange their bet money. Amity won.

4) Amitt Blight

Season one: "She/her. What do you want." I loved her bitch era it was so fun.

Season two: "She/they! Uh, thanks... for asking? Am I supposed to ask for yours now?" Still figuring out the proper etiquette. God bless her soul.

Season 3: "Oh, she/they. You?" This social script is so ingrained in her autistic speech patterns and mind that she acidentally said it to a cafe worker once and she almost turned herself into goo. Rip autopilot girlie......

Post-show: "She/they! :) What about yours?" She is secure in her answer now 👍 a certified category five nonbinary woman moment.

5) Hunter Noceda

Season one: "My..... whats?" You try to explain what they are to him and he says "My uncle says gender is a sin and I should never fall into it lest my soul be lost. And I dont know what that means but I dont want him to be mad at me so. Bye" and then he would flee the scene at 300mph and have a panic attack about in the closet.

Season two: "Oh... uh.... he... him?? I think??" *remembers youre supposed to ask something back* "Why do you need to know that" he sounds increasingly desperate as he realizes the social script for this conversation is slipping from his grasp, much like his current sanity.

Season 3: "Oh, oh, uhm, he/him, I guess" He sounds VERY unsure about that. You eye the book in his shoulder bag, and he shuffles awkwardly.

Post-show: "They/he!" They say, still a little haltingly. You nod like you believe it.

Post-post-show: "They...he... it? I mean I like they and it the most but Uhm he is still fine its fine like Im still a human. Im still a human... man" okay Hunter, for sure.

Post-post-post-post-show: "she...they?????" Sure Hunter

Post-post-post-post-post-show: "she/IT???" she shoulds desperate. Okay hunter.

Post-post-post-post-post-postshow: "It/its, but she/her is fine as well. Uh, thanks for asking. Uh. You?" There we go. Glad you finally came to this realization. The Murderbot Diaries would have irreversible affects on its gender.

[vigarioamelia]

there are a lot of tragic characters in elden ring (pretty much everyone lol) but godwyn exudes a kind of Shakespearean tragedy that just makes me feel so bad for him

godwyn the... betrayed

do you guys remember that trend? jupiter was supposed to be a star but failed?

alexa, play the old doll audio

i'll be talking a lot about godwyn so uh big words trigger warning i guess

Godwyn the Golden, the first child of Godfrey and Queen Marika the Eternal and also the first Demigod known to ever perish.

He was the first descendant of the Golden Line and one of his traits is *literally* being friends with dragons.

Whenever he's mentioned, grief is involved. Both the grief of a Mother and the grief of the people.

He was part of the Golden Order, but we know for a fact he was no maniac for its fundamentals, given the genuine bond he had with Fortissax, for example.

I know we can't really Know this stuff but come on, Godwyn seemed like a certified Big Bro™. He gives the feeling of how pure a person should be. Royal blood – of the purest kind! From the lore we have of him, it appears that he really was The ideal prince.

I like to believe he was particularly fond of the Omen Twins and that, even though they grew up in completely opposite worlds from each other, he was always sort of There. Better than Marika, that's for sure. Just imagine big bro Godwyn taking his baby bros for a tour around the capital. They spend the entire day running around and Godwyn looks so peaceful that the twins can't help but feel that too, if only for a moment.

Not to mention the tender relationship he probably had with the cursed twins.

When Godwyn's spirit was slayed during the Night of the Black Knives, he received a fate worse than death itself: the curse of living in Death.

He who should be crowned golden as the Lord among them all was crowned in ruin as the Prince of Death.

Godwyn will not only never die, but he will never live again. His existence is a terror that punishes the roots of the Erdtree, a thing that not even Miquella was able to stop or help in any way.

This once sweet and kind and beautiful lord is now nothing but a creature spreading across the land.

When both Miquella and Fortissax failed to give him a proper death and rest, what then remained of his body was laid under the roots of the Erdtree. A bit fair, isn't it? First of the Demigod, ruined and buried under the Erdree, where he will slowly but certainly cause destruction and despair all across the land, bringing death to all it touches.

It kills me that the place where he's buried is so dark and lonely and scary. The Godwyn before the Rune of Death was assured to have dozens if not hundreds of statues and paintings and churches and whatever to honor him.

But Godwyn the Golden ceased to exist. There's no one left to adore or admire or cherish. The only thing left is Godwyn the Prince of Death.

He's now worshipped by the undead, Those Who Live in Death, as D calls them. Is there a more tragic end for a royal who was once beloved all across a golden capital?

The only way to change his fate is to make things even WORSE.

Restore the Elden Ring with the Rune of Death and he supposedly comes back again, but. Oh. My. Fucking. God. I would literally go fucking insane if I first opened my eyes to the world I cherished and grew up on completely destroyed by MYSELF without my damn consent.

If he became Prince of Death by his own choice? Fucking sexy. I would support him. SLAY (literally).

But this? My man was ROBBED.

Imagine being "reborn" (in death) and realizing that EVERYONE from your life is dead. The place where you ran around as a kid? Fucking demolished, DIRTY with ashes. ASHES OF DEAD PEOPLE.

AND YOU'RE THEIR MONARCH.

There's NOTHING to rule and most of all THERE'S NOTHING TO PROTECT.

Literally the worst thing that could happen to a dude.

look what the fuck they did to my baby holy shit there truly wasn't enough room for a blonde twink in the lands between was there

Ohh... Oh,  Lord Godwyn... Such cruelty, such humiliation... My poor, sweet lordling should have died a true death. As the first of the demigods to die. As a martyr to Destined Death. But why must it yet bring such disgrace? A scion of the golden bough, sentenced to live in Death...

i really only have two things left to say:

1. godwyn was too sexy to be in the game so miyazaki gave him the worst fate known to humanity (godhood?)

2. this happened to my buddy eric

[fandomchokehold]

one of my favorite Certified Autism Moments that’s happened so far in my Gale romance is the interaction where he says he likes your “musk”

it’s just the awkward attempt at a joke from Samson (my bard tav who’s very Reserved Autistic) with the responding half-unmasked laugh from Gale with an attempted comedic rebuttal that he immediately overthinks and tries to rectify and make very clear that you are Not Smelly and he actually likes it A Lot and uh oh accidentally revealed too much I’m just gonna shut my trap and try to smoothly change the subject while going wide eyed and stiff as a board

and then the cute little tender moment where Samson tries to assuage his fears with a shy “I was thinking we’d be pretty wonderful… together…” and then Gale having to make absolutely positively sure Samson means what he thinks he means

and only once they’re on the same page and everything is laid out plain as day does Gale relax cuz It’s Not One Sided !!!!

even with all his Problems™ and Quirks™ which are potentially world ending

Samson likes him back 🥹

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

9. Reveluv

Note: hold on, you’re reading the right series. Just enjoy lol

The buzz of excitement had been building for weeks. Aespa’s highly anticipated collaboration with Red Velvet was finally here, and it seemed like the entire company was on edge with excitement. But none more so than Y/n, who was—by all accounts—a certified Reveluv. He had tried to keep his enthusiasm under wraps, of course, but anyone who worked closely with him knew that his particular bias for Seulgi was impossible to hide.

As Aespa prepared for their big day, Y/n could feel the familiar nerves creeping in. Not because of the responsibility of organising such a large-scale collaboration, but because he knew he’d be in close proximity to Red Velvet’s Seulgi—the one and only.

“Y/n, you’re looking unusually peppy today,” Giselle teased, noticing his attempt to hide his excitement as they got ready in the studio.

“What? No, this is just my normal face,” Y/n mumbled, fidgeting with a clipboard.

“Uh-huh,” Ningning drawled, smirking. “Your ‘normal’ face that happens to glow whenever we mention Seulgi-unnie?”

Y/n’s ears turned red, but he didn’t have a comeback ready. He was too busy mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen: hours of rehearsals, and meetings, and potentially humiliating fanboy moments. Great.

Despite trained there at the same time as Winter, he actually never meet Red Velvet. He only became a fan when he left for a while.

So for today, he is both a manager and a Reveluv.

As the door opened and Red Velvet stepped into the studio, Y/n’s heart leaped into his throat. He could feel the energy shift as Aespa greeted their seniors with deep bows and warm smiles. Karina and Winter exchanged polite words with Irene and Joy, while Ningning and Giselle bonded instantly with Wendy and Yeri.

"Oh, Y/n-ah!" Minji, their manager, greeted him excitedly. "Finally, my first junior is working with me."

"Hi, noona. I'm excited as well." Y/n bowed. Suddenly, Minji scooted both of them into the side.

"Have fun gawking over our Seul." Minji smirked. "The girls bailed out on you for comedic relief."

"Of course they do…" Y/n muttered.

"Anyway…have fun!" Minji exclaimed before turning over to the girls. "Seulgi-ya! Can you come here please?"

"Ok!"

And then, there she was—Seulgi.

Y/n had met idols before. He had spent countless hours with Aespa and other artists, coordinating schedules, handling logistics, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. But this was different. Seulgi was, well... Seulgi.

"Seulgi, this is-"

“Y/n, right?” Seulgi smiled as she approached him, her voice as warm and friendly as he’d always imagined. "I heard from Minjeong about her hardworking best friend."

Y/n blinked, his brain short-circuiting. “Y-Yeah! I mean, yes, that’s me. I’m Y/n. Manager of Aespa. Yep, that’s who I am.”

The girls of Aespa exchanged knowing looks, barely suppressing their giggles at Y/n’s obvious awkwardness. He tried to keep his cool, reminding himself that he had a job to do. But internally, he was screaming.

Seulgi just smiled wider, clearly amused by his reaction. “Well, it’s nice to meet you officially. We’re really excited about this collaboration with our junior.”

“I-I’m excited too! Really, really excited,” Y/n blurted out before clearing his throat, hoping to regain some semblance of professionalism. “I mean, on behalf of Aespa, we’re all really looking forward to this.”

Seulgi chuckled softly before heading over to join her members, leaving Y/n standing there, frozen in place.

-

Trying to focus on logistics when Seulgi was right there was proving to be difficult. Every time Y/n glanced in her direction, his heart would skip a beat, and it didn’t help that Aespa, particularly Ningning and Giselle, seemed to be enjoying his internal struggle way too much.

“Idiot, are you okay?” Winter asked, feigning concern as she watched him fumble with the equipment setup.

“I’m fine, Jeong” Y/n muttered, clearly not fine. “Just, uh, making sure everything’s perfect for... you know... the performance.”

Karina smirked. “For the performance? Or for Seulgi-unnie?”

Y/n shot her a withering look, but the effect was lost when he nearly dropped his clipboard. Giselle and Ningning couldn’t hold back their laughter anymore, while Winter just shook her head, clearly enjoying his suffering.

"Stuff you all."

As the rehearsals went on, things only got worse. At one point, Y/n found himself standing too close to Seulgi during a break, and he nearly knocked over a mic stand trying to back away gracefully. Seulgi just laughed it off, but Y/n could feel his face burning.

At the end of the day, though, everything came together beautifully. The chemistry between Aespa and Red Velvet was electric, and the joint practice was nothing short of magical. Y/n had been so focused on keeping everything running smoothly that he had barely processed how incredible it all looked until he saw it from backstage. Watching both groups in perfect harmony, dancing and singing together, was a dream come true—not just for fans, but for him personally.

As the performance ended, Y/n stood in awe, his heart swelling with pride. Both groups had nailed it, and the crowd’s reaction was proof of that.

-

The after-dinner was a blur of get together and shared excitement. Both Aespa and Red Velvet were in high spirits, celebrating their bonds with food and laughter. Y/n, still riding the high from the practice, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the occasional glance at Seulgi kept his fanboy tendencies in check.

Ningning, however, wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “So, Y/n,” she started with a sly grin, “I saw Seulgi-unnie looking your way during practice. You should totally ask for a picture.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I can’t just... I mean… Ya Ning, it's mean to give me high hopes.”

“She’s right,” Karina chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s your chance. You’ve been a fan for years, right?”

“Yeah, and we can all tell,” Giselle teased. “You’ve been holding it together pretty well today, but come on—don’t miss this.”

Before Y/n could protest, he found himself being nudged forward by the girls, his feet carrying him toward Seulgi before his brain could catch up. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached her, still unsure of what he was going to say.

“Seulgi-sunbaenim,” he started, his voice a little shaky.

She turned to him with that same warm smile, and Y/n felt his nerves melt away—just a little. “Yes, Y/n?”

“I-I was wondering,” he stammered, “if it’d be okay to take a picture with you. Just... you know, for the memories.”

Seulgi’s smile widened, and without hesitation, she agreed. “Of course! Let’s take one.”

Y/n could hardly believe it as they stood together, smiling for the camera. The girls, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t contain their giggles, knowing how much this moment meant to him.

Afterward, Y/n stared at the picture on his phone, barely able to process what had just happened. It wasn’t just a photo—it was a treasured memory, one that he knew he’d look back on for years.

-

The night continued with more laughter and celebration. Red Velvet and Aespa were mingling, the two groups bonding over their shared experience and the success of their collaboration.

At some point, Y/n found himself sitting with both groups, listening to the girls talk about their favourite moments from practice. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of rehearsals and preparation long gone.

Seulgi, sitting nearby, caught his eye and gave him a knowing smile. “You did great today, Y/n. It’s not easy organising something like this, but everything turned out perfect.”

Y/n, still reeling from his fanboy moment, could only nod. “Thank you, Seulgi-sunbaenim. It was... an honour.”

"Ayy, call me Seulgi-noona, now. We're way past acquaintance at this point."

"Ah ok…Seulgi-noona.."

"…Ya Seulgi, you broke him." Minji joked.

"Unnie, you're so mean." Winter followed suit.

As the evening came to a close, Y/n found himself quietly reflecting on the day (after finally coming into his sense). It had been a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, but in the end, everything had come together in ways he never expected.

He smiled to himself, the photo of him and Seulgi saved on his phone like a cherished trophy. Today had been a dream come true—and he knew that, no matter how many more events he organised in the future, this collaboration would always hold a special place in his heart.

…Of course, it doesn’t top the first picture of him and Winter smiling together when they first joined SM.

[yournastyfavelouis]

BD *and* BDE

The ...he’s got both, bb, and I know this has been long promised, and I’m sure it’ll be outdated in about an hour, but here’s a masterpost people have been askin’ for! Gonna give a lil tease before the rest goes under the cut (ahem):

Before I go further, let me just say I would normally dive DEEP and try to find the full rez versions of these, but it’s almost impossible to find them in today’s shitty search, so mea culpa, hope it still works out for ya! I’m also gonna add some links to some fave ~energy because I know I’m gonna hit the limit AND it’s impossible (??) to download a gif from twitter. :( So let’s start with some outstanding clips:

The eye contact...OKAY

AND AGAIN, ONLY CALLED OUT

This sheer shirt would look 180 degrees different on anyone else

*sweating*

The person who created this video knew EXACTLY what they were doing

....uh....

I will contend that he’s not a shower but a 100% grower

....so now let’s dig into some photos vs. links!

Certified ICONIQUE, Zayn’s FACE:

It’s hinted at in one of the links above, but the people in the crowd, #blessed:

I love how this was a moment:

...that happened more than once:

...and behind the scenes of this tour, too:

Computer, enhance:

Oh, Louis:

There are a lot of moments where he’s not actually B in the DE, but it’s just OUT THERE, like what the fuck, dude:

...

...

...

...

But there’s also something in the way he walks, where it’s not front and center, but it’s all EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE in the BDE:

...

...

...

...which naturally takes you into the spank hands, which is alllll E:

...

I also love when he feels himself up, just to let you know it’s there:

...

I’m a big fan of the spread, too:

...

Just the power stance or sitce in general:

...

...

...

...

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME:

[nqify]

hi hi, i'm liking your stuff, and welcome to the quaritch hellhole!

he's a certified sadist here, and smth tells me you'd be the perfect person to elaborate on his humiliation kink. pls do! ty :):):)

hi!! omg thank u SOSOS much!! ur WRITING IS MWAH SO GOOD!! i know I’ve already posted but I needed to write this!! like my god, this request got me thinking THINGS!!! Love im sorry if it’s short PLS FORGIVE ME!!!

humiliation kink. — miles quaritch ☆

pairings. na’vi!miles quaritch. fem!reader

content warnings. girl. read the title.

note. if you don’t like getting made fun of by our boyfriend, this ain’t for u baby!!

oh he’s a sadist alright!! he loves and I mean he loves causing you pain (with pleasure ofc) choking, spanking, tying up, you name it!! this fucker has got it under his belt!!

due to his sadist ways, miles loves humiliating you!! especially with his words cuz duh?? he’s a certified dirty talker.

this guy is huge right? like hung for sure. you’d try taking his cock while ur riding him. His hands would be grabbing the sides of your thighs and smirking up at you. You’d be struggling ofc, barely fitting all of him in and this fucker is like, “can’t even take my cock?, such a stupid baby” and youd be here for it. “what a fucking nasty bitch you are, you like me calling you stupid?? you’re that much of a slut huh?” girl u r drooling.

at this point your done trying to fit him all in and give up. this guy picks you up and slams you down on the bed, “you’re such a fucking slut that you’re making daddy do all the work, you can’t do shit by yourself can you?? Cant get off without daddy huh?” and you’d just nod over and over again.

AND BC miles loves loves you being vocal, he would go CRAZY when u answer back, “who’s my stupid little baby, huh?” and you’d whine, “m-me, I am!!”

or when u don’t answer back, your just a mumbling mess, drool leaving the corners of your mouth while ur lips become all puffy and pink. he’d just laugh in your face, “can’t even say a single word?? this dick too good baby?? making you all stupid in the head??” Yes it is daddy.

mirror sex y’all. god this man will use his humiliation kink to his advantage. He’d have you doggy style, ass up in the air while ur head is getting shoved into the ground. He’d noticed the mirror in front of you two. HE GETTING IDEAS!!

Miles would grab the roots of your hair and push your body up to where your back is now touching his chest. “Look baby”, he’d point to the mirror, “look at the mess you made” specifically talking about the ring of cum around his cockGIRL!

you’d roll your eyes back at the pure pleasure, leaning the back of your head on his shoulder. uh uh girl he wants u LOOKING TOO!! he’d grab your cheeks and pull u from his shoulder, “want you to look at how much of a dirty slut u are” u fluttering around him for sure

Miles would notice, “fuck u like that??” dude is laughing at you. Your not saying anything, just moaning and whining, grinding against his dick. “My stupid sluts tryna cum?? that’s all you do right? just cum over and over again, just for me?? for daddy right??” your nodding. “I want you to say it, say your daddy’s slut little cum slut, c’mon be a good girl” girl u r shaking.“I-I’m d-daddy’s l-little cum slut ah!!

would use his humiliation kink in public FOR SURE!!! let’s just say both your friends are over and he’d pull you aside, saying he needs to tell you smth. that smth was his dick girl.

Your back now arching off the walls in the hallway, so close yet so far from your friends. His hand would be covering your mouth, blocking any of ur little whines. He’d keep you close, practically hugging u at this point.

”f-fuck baby, you like getting fucked when ur friends could catch us at any moment mm?”. that def hit a spot. “Yeah mama? ur so dirty ain’t you? you want them to catch you being such a slut for me, isn’t that right?” U R NODDING YES YESYES!!

he’d cum right inside you and make u not clean it so you feel more humiliated. Your friends def knew what was going on by the messy hair and puffy lips - but trying to cover up the fact that u have his load still in you?? have fun girl.

he’d come up from behind you and whisper, “ur dripping some mama, don’t you want my cum in you??” He mocks you. UR EMBARRASSED!!! “such a fucking dirty slut..” girl u r crying at this point!! He is coming for you, “my little dirty slut isn’t that right pretty?” only for u daddy MWAH

requests are wide open baby!!!

[bihansthot]

I uh… did a thing 😳 Yes after like a what 2+ year hiatus I wrote a Bi-Han x Female Reader Insert ficlet let’s call it. There’s no plot, it’s pure, raw smut at its finest. Minors DNI

I apologize if it’s rusty and not my finest work it’s been a long time but since Bi-Han is a certified daddy in this game he deserves smut that celebrates that.

Just an FYI I’m not going back to doing requests, not yet at least, I don’t know that I have the mental capacity or energy to take on requests, but casual smut here and there might return. I’m more than happy to answer self ship questions though, so don’t be shy. :) I’m a friendly T-Rex, I promise but I can be really bad with social cues so please be patient with me.

This is just a quickie that I just couldn’t get out of my head, Daddy Kink involved so please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable with that. As always if you enjoy it please let me know and please like and reblog, the more feedback I get the more motivation I will have to get back to writing and maybe taking requests again!

Enjoy my lovelies!

Sub-Zero grunts low against your ear as his cold cock sinks into your tight hot pussy. “‘S hot,” he mumbles and you can’t tell if it’s a complaint or an observation.

Your body jerks and shivers violently as the cold invades your body, no matter how many times you lay with the cryomancer you can never get used to or enough of the icy cold sensation. “Bi-Han,” you moan softly as your fingers card through his long, coarse hair. You inhale sharply as he’s finally seated inside you and you can feel every inch of his long thick cock filling your tight hole.

Bi-Han makes a pleased noise that he would never admit to as you stroke his hair, taking a rare, soft moment to just enjoy your body heat. Iced-over fingers brush gently against your lips causing you to shiver and involuntarily clench around his fat cock causing your lips to fall open slightly. Bi-Han smirks as he slides two digits into your mouth and you don’t even have to be told what to do, you’re his good girl, you know. Your tongue teases the underside of his icy fingers before sucking them deeper into your mouth pulling a surprisingly low groan from the cryomancer. You wiggle your hips to not so subtly remind him he had a job to do.

“Someone’s impatient,” he whispers breathily, deliberately twitching his cock inside your hot confines.

You suck his fingers with the same enthusiasm you’d worship his cock with for a few moments before pulling off with a pop, “Please, Daddy?” You whine and give him your best puppy dog look knowing damn well Bi-Han couldn’t resist your begging.

He grunts in annoyance and looks away for a moment, “then prepare yourself for the full might of the Lin Kuei,” Bi-Han growls. He moves his hips slightly, grinding his rock-hard pelvis against your dripping cunt, eliciting a moan from your parted lips. He pulled back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before gripping the headboard tightly to ground himself as he sunk back inside you, restraining himself so as not to overwhelm you too quickly. Bi-Han sucked in a low breath before repeating the action, loving the tightness and heat of your pussy caressing his thick cock. “You ready to really take Daddy’s cock princess?” He coos condescendingly as his ice-cold fingers tighten around your hip bone.

“Oh please Daddy, please,” you beg as you buck your hips desperately trying to fuck yourself on his huge cock.

“Aw, my little slut is impatient isn’t she?” He goats you on, grinning as his sharp canines glimmer in the darkness aided by the pale glow of moonlight. He doesn’t tease you further though and begins to fuck you in earnest as the obscene sound of skin on skin echos in the stone room.

You moan loudly as his cock slips in and out of your wet pussy each thrust knocking the fat tip of Bi-Han’s cock into your sweet spot, soaking the two of you with your want. “Ah, Daddy! Un! Just like that please,” you whine and whimper as pleasure sings throughout your body and the familiar tightness wells up in your stomach. Your toes begin to curl as the cryomancer pounds into you, the bed creaking with protest as the headboard crackles with splinters beneath Bi-Han’s iron grip. He’s so deep inside of you it almost hurts and you can barely accommodate his entire length which you might feel guilty about if you weren’t getting your back blown out by the Lin Kuei’s number one. You throw your arms around his neck as your nails bite into his well-muscled shoulders as you try and steady yourself. It’s a futile effort though as you find yourself feeling lightheaded and floaty as you pant and gasp for breath, his name falling from your lips like some broken pray as the cryomancer is relentless in his pursuit. His hips slam against your pussy as his balls slap against your ass, his grip on your hip tightens almost painfully before changing the angle slightly.

Your now practically straddling the cryomancer as he fucks into you harder, his cock pressing up against your cervix with every thrust. It doesn’t hurt though, you’re just left with this deliciously overfull sensation as you clench around him trying to concentrate on each of his movements as you feel yourself hurling towards your climax. Sub-Zero abandons the now icy headboard in favor of your grasping your other hip to help him leverage your body like his own personal fleshlight. With his immense and effortless strength, he pulls you down on his cock over and over, forcing you to wrap your legs tightly around his perfectly sculpted torso. You cry out loudly as each thrust fills you beyond full and rubs your pussy walls in all the right way.

“B-Bi-Han,” you warn him shakily as your body shivers from the close proximity of the cryomancer. Your stomach clenches tightly and you dig your nails into his hard flesh as the first waves of pleasure roll over you. You’re able to hold it at bay for a moment or two but you know you’re fucked when Bi-Han flashes you a shit-eating grin.

“Cum for me you little slut, make a mess all over Daddy’s pretty cock,” he all but demands, hips never ceasing their movement as they drive his cock deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Bi-Han, fuck. Ah! Fill me up Daddy please!” You squeal as the tension in your stomach bursts and your body is flooded with white-hot pleasure. Your pussy clenches involuntarily around Bi-Han’s pulsating cock as you shudder and heave trying to pull in a deep breath. Everything is too much all at once as Bi-Han fucks you through your release, determined to reach his own.

“Good girl,” he hisses and the words alone make you nearly cum again as his rhythm begins to falter and you notice the familiar feeling of ice spreading along your hips. Another deep grunt, a sharp couple of almost painfully powerful thrusts, and Sub-Zero was finally falling over the edge himself.

He let out a ferocious growl as his entire cock started spasming in the confines of your hot, wet cunt, after a soft choked-off growl his entire body froze before heaving against yours. His grip on your hips was painful as he pumped load after load of his thick, cold cum into your waiting pussy.

You gasp as you feel the cold liquid painting your walls white and filling you to the brim, all you can do is whimper pathetically as Sub-Zero’s completion forces you to the edge once more. You bite your lip hard to stifle your cries as you cum hard, your want mingling with his seed dripping lazily onto Bi-Han’s flawless pelvis. You have to close your eyes when you see stars as your whole body shivers and shakes uncontrollably. The cryomancer’s icy hands move to cradle and steady you as you ride out the last bits of your climax, you shoot him a goofy little post-orgasmic glow smile. “I’m all full of Daddy’s cum.”

Bi-Han hums in approval, “because good girls get cream pies, bad girls get facials.”

Somewhere in your blissed-out mind, you’re trying to parse how that would be a punishment but let it go in favor of slumping your exhausted body against the cryomancer’s.

He chuckles low and the warm vibrations resonate in your body as he finally pulls out of your well-used body leaving a puddle of your juices dripping from your cunt onto the bed below. “It’s time to get you cleaned up and put to bed, can’t let my little princess sleep like this.”

You sigh happily as he scoops you up with ease and makes his way toward your bathroom.