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starlightkun · 1 year ago

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❧ 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

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goldbug127 · 5 months ago

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Apologies in advance for a long post!

Okay, so I'm watching Transformers Prime for the first time and I just finished the amnesia episodes.

Naturally, I have thoughts. My main one being:

This version of Orion Pax is as feral and all over the place as TF One Orion Pax!!!

HE'S JUST QUIETER ABOUT IT!

Ok first of all, obviously we don't see a lot of this Orion and 75% of the time he's just tryna figure out where he is and what's happening but I believe there's enough there to comment on.

Onto the first scene I want to talk about!

Orion Pax has just been told that his entire home planet has been destroyed, by someone he knew no less. His reaction is one we would all expect from a soldier. Clenching his fist, promising to stop Ratchet, "this I vow with all my spark", etc. etc. BUT we forget, this guy thinks he is an archivist. As far as he's aware, this guy has never fought anyone before plus, we know from later that he doesn't even know he has weapons. And sure he may not explicitly say he plans to fight anyone but, as I said, he's an archivist, his little speech was someone with a big vocabulary's version of "it's on sight if I meet this guy!"

The next scene I would like to talk about is when Arcee manages to get aboard the decepticon ship. Orion is peacefully working on his computer when he starts hearing blaster fire outside the room! What we would most likely expect a calm, sensible archivist to do is, I don't know, ask what's going on? call for help? alert some security? hide? any other number of things that wouldn't put him in immediate and potentially life threatening danger? yes, that would be logical wouldn't it? but Orion? he decides the next obvious step is to walk out into the hallway into what he must assume is an active shooting situation. Then, after being told by a guard to return to his room to be safe, he thinks about it for a moment and then continues to go out of his way to look for the source of the commotion! While knowingly disobeying what he's been told are Megatron's direct orders! He's crazy!!

I also want to talk about how Orion reacts once he starts to become suspicious of Megatron. In the scene right after being confronted by Starscream and the scene later on when Megatron asks him about his progress, Orion Pax, now very sure that the decepticon could be dangerous, decides to lie directly to his face. I would also like to point out that, after one of these scenes, Megatron says that he has never been good at lying. Orion Pax has NEVER been good at lying, meaning that Megatron has seen Orion try to lie before. I don't even know why an archivist would need to lie but apparently he finds way to get in trouble enough that he does so frequently.

Adding on to this point - after Orion finds out he has guns (and realises he can absolutely obliterate others with a few shots (something our sweet historian should have probably been more concerned about)), this GUY decides to MARCH through the ground bridge!! find MEGATRON!!!! (aka the former gladiator and current head decepticon) AND THREATEN HIM!!?!!!?! Threaten him, no less, WITHOUT USING THE GUNS HE JUST DISCOVERED HE HAD! Orion decides to fight the LITERAL TANK using glorified knives. Naturally, Megatron wipes the floor with him in less than three seconds but the fact that he even tried is insane!!

Anyway, I'll probably think of more when I've had more time to think but that's all for now.

Orion is a mad lad in every iteration.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk,

you're welcome,

I need sleep.

#transformers one #transformers prime #orion pax #megatron #optimus prime #tfp megatron #tfp orion pax

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jikooklove9795 · 5 months ago

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Hey, there! First of all, I wanted to share just how much I enjoy reading all of your detailed posts and how nearly every time they're just SO spot! This being said, I was wondering about something just for funsies: What are some moments between JK and JM that people often use as "proof" but in your eyes, they aren't actually all that significant to you and are just innocent interactions? Personally, I love being realistic and objective when it comes to KM, so there definitely are some moments that just don't look all that proof-esque to me the way other momemts between them are undeniably hinting at a possible relationship. I was curious about your views on this matter, and thank you so much if you decide to indulge in my curiosity hehe!!

Hi Anon 😊

Thanks a lot for your kind words. I really appreciate it and I'm so happy to know that you enjoy my posts.

But when it comes to your ask 😅 I should probably be the last person you send this to. I understand its natural to leave room for doubt since we are all assuming that Jikook are in a relationship. However, I'm a bit different, I guess, because I have no doubt in my mind when it comes to Jikook. For me, they're definitely in a long term committed relationship with each other.

I usually never try to link two people romantically unless they've made it public that they're dating. However, if I notice something undeniable in their behaviors or interactions when they're around each other, I might change my perspective. There's often a chemistry or electric spark thats impossible to hide no matter how hard they try.

And when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook there are countless behavior patterns over the years that solidify my belief. Even without considering the loud moments there are numerous subtle and consistent patterns in the way they interact with each other. A few of these are:

1) Their frequent one on one time both on and off camera

2) Their inside jokes, inside stories, their nicknames or terms of endearment for each other

3) Their familiarity with each other's habits which most of the time seem like new information to even the other members

4) Subtle physical affection like lingering touches, any excuse to hold hands, always gravitating towards each other

5) Body language (angling their body towards each other), giving the other undivided attention, using soft tones while speaking

6) Unconscious smiling where they smile a lot more in each other's presence for no particular reason

7) Blushing (cue Jimin on his birthday live 2021, Jimin during 3J Butter dance version, Jimin after blowing a kiss to Jungkook during MMA 2018 and many more)

8) The protective gestures, how they get defensive when it comes to the other

9) Their soft gazes for each other which are filled with affection and admiration

10) Their noticeable effort to support each other (Jikook at each other's practice stages), the concern and worry reflected in their eyes and voice tones when the other is having a grueling schedule, bad health etc.

All of these are indicators which reveal the depth of their relationship.

So, what I'm saying is that, what maybe proof of Jikook dating to some might not be convincing to others. This could be because those moments are subtler compared to the more obvious ones. However, that doesn't make those moments any less meaningful. When considering the bigger picture, these subtle moments, especially since they occur consistently make a significant difference in how we perceive Jikook's dynamic.

It shows that what they have is not mere sexual attraction but something they have nurtured through time and effort. That's why their love continues to thrive despite all the struggles they may have faced.

We are all unique and this uniqueness shapes the way we perceive things. Thats why there is a variety of opinions and perspectives when it comes to interpreting a moment or interaction.

And since Jikook are in love (in my opinion) almost all their interactions carry an underlying affection and fondness for each other. This is why to some these interactions might appear as evidence of them being together.

When it comes to them I always notice something special in the way they interact. They're so gentle, romantic, and fun that it makes me believe that love still exists and its possible to have healthy loving long term relationships even when you're super famous. They're truly a breath of fresh air.

So, yeah, thats my answer to your ask, Anon. Once again thank you so much for your kind words. They really put a smile on my face.

Have a nice day 👋🏻

#jikook #kookmin #jungkook #jimin #ask

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newttxt · 2 months ago

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20 questions for fic writers

thank you @strawhattery for @ing me, even though i do feel like it's a not-so-subtle urge to finish my current wips... (i need the kick)

for reference/those who only see my art, i used to be a fic writer who occasionally drew. that's obviously changed, but i am trying to write more, so you can find me at pseudoanalytics on ao3.

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

44, but only 35 are linked to me (9 are anonymous...)

2) what's your total ao3 word count?

347,773 😰

3) what are your top five fics by kudos?

while i nodded, nearly napping (suddenly there came a tapping) [haikyuu, ushiten]

redacted :/

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) [haikyuu, sakuatsu]

you're really pushing it (but you're going much too slowly) [haikyuu, ushiten]

redacted :/ (sequel to the first redacted...)

4) what fandoms do you write for?

most of my fics are so old i can't bear to look at them, but i'm trying to write more for one piece. then i've written a decent amount of haikyuu, pacific rim, and star wars.

5) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

initially? i absolutely do! but as any of my friends will tell you, i struggle to even reply to dms or texts. so alas. i drop off pretty quickly

i LOVE comments though, and i eagerly read and reread them frequently ;__;

6) what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh sheesh. you may only ask once (so be prepared for the reply) which is a bad end for pacific rim 2. or i guess... a worse end. it's also a bit of a role swap au, if i remember correctly.

7) what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i... honestly don't know. i typically write happy endings. i like to write "missing scenes" and post-canon, so things tend to be rather open-ended or to just lead into the next part of canon. my memory is also not my prize-winning quality, so i can't really remember how my fics ended pre-2018ish.

8) do you get hate on fics?

i know i've gotten some ruder bookmarks, but not typically, no. i get more hate on art or in my ask box, but i honestly just delete it all, so it never sticks.

9) do you write smut?

yes, though its debatable if it's "smut" so much as "sex in such an irreverent context that it becomes humor." i cannot take sex seriously, so alas, i rarely write it seriously. i use it more as comedy and a tool for character studies. i do enjoy a stoic character's facade getting cracked open.

10) do you write crossovers?

i don't write legitimate crossovers, with characters from different medias intermingling, and frankly, i rarely do au's either.

but if i have one weakness, it's that i am ALWAYS a sucker for a pacific rim au. yes, i am rotating a one piece version in my head.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

i had a sakuatsu one reuploaded to wattpad under someone else's username. they deleted my author's notes and added their own, as if they'd written the fic, too. hilariously they even used my art for the cover.

it got taken down, but idk why. i never reached out about it.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah! i've had 5 translated, and i've had 2 turned into podfics, which is cool.

13) have you ever cowritten a fic before?

nope. i'd be terrible to work with, tbh. my writing process is a holdover from my journalism days, and the steps are a mystery even to me. i think i'll stick to drawing art for other ppl and their fics.

14) what's your all time favorite ship?

i will hold to the fact that it's asanoya from ao3. they were the first ship i got really invested in, and i see their impact on everything i ship to this day. they were my "blueprint," if you will. i still get smiley when i see art for them!

on the flip side... terezi/vriska was also a formative ship for me. but i won't discuss that.

15) what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

rip go ahead and start talking (i'll pick up the slack). it's my 1-of-2-chapters ushiten fic that i should just mark as complete, since the first chapter can stand alone.

16) what are your writing strengths?

hard to determine your own strengths, but i think my dialogue/characterization are pretty strong, especially since i still regularly flex those muscles when writing comics. i also think i'm funny.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

writing.

but seriously, i am so bad at sitting down and just hammering out a fic. don't get me started on outlines or longform works. i'd rather grab my pencil and start drawing, i'm afraid.

18) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think there are ways to interweave words or terms in other languages, but overall, i'm a fan of just standardizing everything into one language. if your character understands it, i think all readers should be able to understand it. and i'm not a fan of when you're expected to scroll to the end for a translation; i think it interrupts the reading flow.

this is a generalized opinion though. i think there are ALWAYS storytelling exceptions, so if the other language usage is really important to your theme/intent, i can see why you would do this!

19) first fandom you wrote for?

please don't do this to me. it was maximum ride. yes, the james patterson books about the kids with bird wings. i wrote 4-5 fics, i was in middle school, and — as far as i know — they are still up on ff dot net. no, i won't elaborate.

20) favourite fic you've ever written?

hands down, it's the sakuatsu domesticity simulator. it's not necessarily my best work in terms of writing skill, but i also drew over 50 images for it and html coded it into an interactive story. i'm just proud that i started a big project by myself and i actually finished it!

it's my dream to someday make a whole visual fan novel. i feel like the domesticity sim was the first step.

oh boy i'm bad at tagging but if @syrupfog, @lawsbbygirl, @macabrekawaii , @bmouse, or @cooknumber3 want to go for it... :))

#ask #sorta not really #long post #bree actually tagged my personal/reblog account #but im sticking it here in case anyone wants to see that im a real person and not just a lulaw comic art machine

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accirax · 3 months ago

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Translating and Analyzing Project: Eden's Garden's Title Theme

Haven't personally seen anyone else do this yet, so I figured I'd share my curiosity stirred up by the just-released Main Title Theme Live Symphony Performance with the class.

As a note, I don't speak Latin at all, so I will be relying on Google (including Google Translate) to help me out. Therefore, it's possible that some segments-- especially longer sentences or phrases-- may be translated incorrectly. If you do speak Latin and notice something that's off, I'd love to know!

This post will contain spoilers for Chapter 1, so please don't read this if you aren't caught up. That being said, let's get started with my most enthralling "theory" to date: trying to reverse engineer teaching myself Latin.

Because multiple sets of lyrics are occasionally sung at the same time, it's possible that my screenshots will contain multiple phrases in them. I'll do my best to avoid having that happen as much as possible, but otherwise, the explanatory captions under the pictures should make it clear which section I'm talking about!

A simple search of "omnibus" returns that it means "to all," but "omnibus de omnibus" becomes "everything about everything." This online Latin-English dictionary clarifies that the noun "omnis" can mean "all people" or "all things/everything." The -ibus suffix could be indicative of the locative, dative, or ablative tense. Ohio State University explains that the locative conjugation indicates the place where something happens, the dative conjugation indicates the person to whom something happens, and the ablative tense is really complicated could either mean why something happened (its origin) or how something happened (the means by which it occurred).

From what I can tell, "dubitandum" seems much simpler. It's just the gerund form of the verb "dubitare," which means "to doubt." In English, a gerund is a word that ends in "-ing" but is used as a noun. "Writing" in the sentence "I like writing" is a gerund because writing is a thing (a noun) that I like. Although dubitandum is a viable conjugation for many verb tenses, it seems to appear most often in the accusative case, which refers to "the end destination."

Stringing it together, "omnibus de omnibus dubitandum" would probably mean something like "all people will eventually doubt everything", or, as Google Translate would put it, "to doubt everything about everything."

"De omnibus dubitandum" specifically is apparently a common phrase (attributed to Renee Descartes) that just means "doubt everything." According to the link I just pasted, it was also a favorite saying of Karl Marx. C-Cassidy...?

Next is both a low register and a high register singing "fiat voluntas tu." "Fiat" is the singular present tense of "to do," so basically just "do." "Voluntas" seems to pop up most frequently as a noun, meaning "will" or "intent." And "tua", much like the Spanish "tú," just means "your." Smashing those together results in "do your will," or as Google Translate more eloquently puts it, "your will be done." "Thy will be done," if you want to get really fancy.

Here comes a long one. In total, the full sentence reads, "liber scriptus proferetur, in quo totem continentur, unde mundus judicetur." Thankfully, I don't have to translate this one. My boy William Josiah Irons already did it for me!

Reason being, this line is taken directly from the medieval Latin poem Dies Irae, AKA Day of Wrath, by Thomas of Celano. (And no, I did not know this offhand, I had to look this up too). Irons' translation tries to keep the original rhyme and meter of the Latin version, so if you want to sing along, use this:

Lo, the book, exactly worded, Wherein all hath been recorded, Thence shall judgement be awarded.

However, if that version is a bit too fancy for you, Wikipedia has a more modern translation:

The written book will be brought forth, in which all is contained, from which the world shall be judged.

If you're like me and know nothing about religion, you might see "book" in a medieval Roman (AKA Catholic) song and immediately assume that they're talking about the Bible. However, if Wikipedia is to be believed, they're referencing a different piece of literature which, to be fair, is at least mentioned in the Bible...! The Book of Life in Christian faith is "God’s record of all those over the centuries who have trusted Christ as their Savior and have followed Him as Lord." Therefore, the "all that is contained" would refer to the names of all of the holy people who believe in Catholicism.

The world-judging bit refers to "Judgment Day" or "The Last Judgment." That term refers to belief that, someday, Jesus Christ will return to Earth, and at that point, God will judge everyone who's ever lived, saving the faithful people and damning the non-believers. There are varying beliefs on whether more people would be saved or more people would be damned, but considering the song is called "Day of Wrath," I have to imagine Mr. Celano wasn't that optimistic. This song is famously associated with Catholic funeral masses too, so that upbeat attitude really stuck.

I could barely even hear this part under the music, but the subtitles alerted me to the fact that the chorus chants "da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" here! This is another one I don't have to translate, because it's a reference to something else B)

"Da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" means "give me the facts, I will give you law," according to A Guide to Latin in International Law via Oxford Reference. The reason why it's written in Latin is because, apparently, this saying originates from the Roman court system.

Looking at the bottom row, the lower-pitched chanting says, "vulnerant omnia, ultima necat." This semi-common phrase typically translates to, "all hours wound, the last one kills," even if the "hour" ("horae") isn't included.

The top comment on this Reddit thread breaks it down the way I would if I inherently knew Latin:

Let's review the underlying grammar: Vulnerant=they wound omnia is ambiguous because it can be both the subject and the object of vulnerant. However, in this case, horae is understood to be the subject, so omnia must be the object. It means all things. If it were omnes, then it would also be ambiguous because omnes can also be both as well. [...] So Vulnerant omnia [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound all things. The second one isn't very pleasant. And Vulnerant omnes [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound [men/men and women]. Ultima necat=the last kills

The comment also elaborates that the "horae" is assumed because the phrase is often found on clocks or sundials in churches. Many different sources return this phrase (or slight variations on it) including hours in the meaning, so I'm inclined to believe that it's true.

The bottom line repeats the same phrase again after this, so I won't include it for a second time.

Our final line! In the middle row, we have "Opere et veritate, de omnibus dubitandum!" This one isn't a reference, but luckily it's still easy enough to figure out.

The second half of the sentence is something we've looked at before. As a recap, "de" means "of," "omnibus" means "of everything/everyone", and dubitandum means "doubting." So, the second half of the sentence will probably mean something like "doubting of everything."

"Opere," much like "opus" is a noun meaning "work," as in a work of art. "Et" means "and," and "veritate" means "truth." The handy-dandy Latin-Is-Simple.com conveniently puts this together as "in action and in truth."

Together, the sentence means something like "in action and in truth, have doubt of everything/everyone." Google Translate puts it as "by work and truth, we must doubt everything," but I like my translation better.

Therefore, altogether, here's a rough translation of the P:EG theme's lyrics:

All people will eventually doubt everything... Thy will be done... The Book of Life will be brought forth, in which the names of all the holy are contained, and then the world will be judged. Give me the facts, I will give you law! All hours wound, the last hour kills. In action and truth, doubt everything and everyone. All hours wound, the last hour kills!

So, let's swap out our translator hats for lyrical analysis hats, 'cause there's obviously a lot here to relate to P:EG and the concept of killing games as a whole.

The first two lines paired together are a prophecy, a threat and a promise combined. Basically, the choir is saying, "you think that people will eventually doubt everything? Well, here's your wish come true!" The line clearly connects to Damon and his core philosophy. As long as Damon continues to not want to trust anybody, then nobody will seem trustworthy. Furthermore, if Damon continues to not trust others, that means there will always be one person in the group who won't be trustful, so everyone being trustful is impossible.

Not that it's much of a surprise, but the kinda judgy tone of these first two lyrics definitely implies that Damon's attitude will be challenged (and likely corrected) at some point in the story. "Thy will" was a stylization, but the truth remains that the phrase referred to a singular entity. The lyrics place the focus on a single individual, and blames them for everything that follows by implying that the lack of trust is their fault. It's very reminiscent of the end of the Prologue, where the entire class blames Damon and Eva for ruining the vibes between them.

The Day of Wrath section continues the game's religious theming, invoking discussions of the end of all times. Although I doubt a literal Armageddon will happen in P:EG, I can certainly understand how the participants of the killing game would consider it the end of all things. Certainly, a lot of less-than-virtuous people will be dying here, especially if you're under the assumption that everyone who kills is morally bankrupt.

It's certainly an interesting implication that those in the killing game who are most virtuous might be the ones who are saved. Are they just extending that morality to how likely someone is to kill them? Like, people wouldn't kill you if they think you're cool? There is also the argument that students who are too curious or have something to hide are more likely to find themselves in deadly situations (a la Wolfgang), leaving the less bold students alive in the end. Still, that's not as much of a judgment on God's (Tozu's?) part.

Something in me wonders if this killing game might have been created as a challenge. I don't think that the motivations behind it would be to punish this group of students in particular-- we know semi-factually that some of their deepest, darkest secrets are hardly anything to sneeze at. Instead of being so targeted, the goal would be to have most of the students fail, while a select few succeed.

There's a definite possibility that Eden's Garden College-- and the titular Project: Eden's Garden-- is a ploy to weed out the "fake Ultimates" by proving who truly has what it takes to succeed in the cutthroat world of business by literally cutting people's throats. Becoming the "true face of talent" could mean literally erasing the other faces of those who weigh the title of Ultimate down; with so many Ultimates around, it's easy to not notice if one or two go missing.

If we're in a world where talent is valued above all else, the "virtue" that Tozu could be sparing them for could be talent itself. "Leadership, communication, and persuasion" are certainly skills that could help you survive a Class Trial (whether as a blackened or spotless). Depending how deep the corruption goes in this world, it's possible that the graduates of Eden's Garden Academy-- survivors of former killing games-- are simply willing to keep quiet about the Academy's dark secret if it means that they can claim all of the accolades for themselves. They fought for and earned it, after all.

If this is the direction the story takes, I can definitely see how making someone like Damon the protagonist would be the perfect choice. For him to spend all game talking about his superiority and belief in the talents of the Academy only to learn that all of the Ultimates he admired kept 14 nearly-as-talented skeletons in their closet would surely create an interesting internal conflict for the final Class Trial.

This is all just a theory, as there are plenty of other ways the Day of Wrath poem could relate to P:EG. However, I think it's a theory with a decent backing behind it.

"Give me the facts, I will give you law"-- I mean, that has to relate to Wolfgang, right? Even beyond the fact that it just says "law" in it, it's international law, perfect for an Ultimate Lawyer who wants to unite everyone. This line could definitely indicate how Wolfgang took Damon's facts (that some people in the Academy would be willing to kill) and turned them into ammunition for his own missive. If I were writing this analysis before Ch1 dropped, I would probably have speculated more about the future rivalry between Damon and Wolfgang. Instead, Damon and Wolfgang's "rivalry" is already over, with honestly not that much beef between them.

Given that Wolfgang is dead, it's also worth it to consider this outside of a Wolfgang context moving forward. This line could also relate to Damon's experiences in solving a Class Trial: after getting the facts of the case, Damon goes to the Class Trial Grounds and lays down the law.

"All hours wound, the last hour kills" is super interesting in the context of a killing game. My immediate connection was to the chapters, or in-universe Trials, of the killing game. All chapters of the game will wound Damon and the eventual other survivors, but it's the final chapter in which they're confronted with the true despairs of the world.

Another interpretation could work on a more chapter-by-chapter basis: every day in the killing game damages something, whether it's the killer's sanity or their business/reputation out in the real world, so it's in their "last hour" when they snap and need to get out. Especially with the ticking clock of the Traitor Perk out there for Eva at least and possibly future killers as well, time feels like a big factor.

In general, I would assume that (if the quote is found on clocks in churches) the phrase probably means something along the lines of "don't procrastinate," which could also be applied to the concept of Ultimates in general. They're always on that grindset.

And finally, "in action and truth, don't trust anything or anyone." This line is pretty unremarkable (being a pretty obvious repetition of Damon's mindset at the beginning of the game) other than in contrast with the beginning of the song. As I said, at the beginning of the song, the choir was almost reprimanding Damon with their "thy will be done." However, here, not trusting anything or anyone is spoken more like advice.

It could be that the choir was actually speaking more neutrally at the beginning, and that they're willing to accept the lack of trust because they always knew it would happen. Or, it could be that, by this point in the song, the lyrics have shifted to represent Damon's point of view instead of the universe's. If "I will give you law" did relate to Damon laying down the law, maybe that "I" pronoun is the point of the song at which the lyrics become Damon's thoughts?

Otherwise, maybe the choir is just meant to make Damon feel bad no matter what he does. Let's assume that, over the course of the game, Damon will come to trust certain individuals more. If true, then at the beginning of the game, the choir could be like "damn if you want to not trust people then it's kinda your fault what happens next dude," and closer to the end they could be like "oooooooh you wanna not trust people so bad remember Eva?" If the song is just meant to be an imposing feel-bad moment, then the emotions of the impartial choir could be unimportant.

And, well, that's the song! As is basically my brand, this post wound up way longer than I thought it would, back when I thought I was just going to Google Translate all the lyrics and be done with it. But, I hope that learning a bit about Latin was intriguing (assuming I did it correctly), and that the plotlines implied by the lyrics have given you a bit to chew on!

Still working on the overall Ch1 review/analysis, I just thought that writing this post would only take me, like, half an hour... Hopefully I'll see you back whenever that's done! Until then!

#project: eden's garden #p:eg #p:eg spoilers #fanganronpa #damon maitsu #wolfgang akire #can you tell i just finished reading the under.tale legends of localization book #that book slaps btw if you like this post and that game you should totally read it it's free online #i so hope i didn't fuck up the latin horribly but i think it all makes sense?#it helps my confidence that a good portion of the song was previously known saying lol #my theories

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

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I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

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fiendforbyler · 8 months ago

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y’all i was recreationally scrolling through the m*leven # (no bad vibes sent i swear i just feel like getting both sides of the argument is best to cement my belief) and something i saw was someone saying how el is always at her best when she is with mike. which imo is very untrue. let’s go on a deep dive together, shall we?

season 2

at the end of season 1 we know el disappears off into the upside down. separated from mike. by the start of season 2, she is trying to understand more about herself and her powers and her origins, and all of this is done seperate from mike, on her own. this solitude allows for her to find her individuality without being ‘the weapon’ or ‘mikes crush’. i think that while the 08 stuff is kind of silly, it is important to note that during that, she did begin to understand the root and significance of her powers, as well as feeling accepted properly by like-minded people for the first time possibly ever. she also finds her mother and learns about her origins, just beginning her journey of curiosity about herself. we know that finding mama was very important to eleven, and she did all of this away from mike. while she was at hoppers, she mourned losing him, yearned for him, pined, etc, and that caused tension, upset and drained her. NOT mikes fault, btw, he is my actual child and i do not believe this is anyone’s fault, just the facts. when she is back reunited with mike, yes it is a beautiful beautiful scene i cannot deny that but she is a different version of herself than when mike saw her last and therefore this separation was very beneficial to her character.

season 3

we all know how this season goes. mike and el making out left and right, no communication just sucking face. during the m*leven breakup, mike is pretty nonchalant and uncaring about it all, and max helps el on her journey of self discovery. during this time when we’ll bd mike are broken up is the first time el is introduced to trash mags, silly games, something other than being the girl with powers or mikes girlfriend. she begins to understand her likes, her dislikes, herself. no one ever tried to help her find her individuality before, not like this. this is when el also starts ‘making her own rules’ and really coming into her own, maturing into her own wonderful person without mikes presence. in fact, the breakup is very necessary for this to occur. not to mention the fact that she also solves majority of the billy mystery without mike there, in fact she solves it while ignoring and icing out mike, with max’s help. this breakup is essential for elevens character development, and that’s not an accident, certainly not since it is a frequently reoccurring then throughout the entire series!! the ending scene with the ‘i love you too’ is an awkward way to summarise a season spelt apart and i think it may also because she is still learning what she likes and dislikes, this is all extremely new to her.

season 4

oh boy. i mean, obviously el hasn’t been fitting in at school, that’s very obvious. i mean what could mike have to do with that? directly, not much but indirectly??? everything. i believe that just the fact she is in a relationship with mike is throwing her off balance and we are supposed to notice that!! then when mike arrives i mean first of all the flowers and the ‘from’ is a whole other post but immediately her situation worsens, she gets abused by angela, ridiculed by her and her friends, then literally attacks angela with a skate, and it’s all so… out of character? and the ‘you never say it’ argument… it’s all meant to make us look at the couple and go ‘these guys aren’t working anymore’ (!!!!!) i mean, el is, emotionally but also to a point physically, hindered in this relationship with mike and it’s neither of their faults!!!! they just aren’t working!!! and that’s okay!!! they need to be seperate to develop as characters and this is proven by the separation when el gets taken to get her powers back. a great way the duffers could have utilised this plot point was by making mike go with her. think about it! he learns about her while she learns about herself, all while regaining her powers and mike gaining new understanding and appreciation of her as a person! what a great way to deepen an ‘endgame’ couple’s relationship! will also could have had great development, having self-discovery with jonothan and argyle! who doesn’t want some brotherly bonding time? but that’s is not what happened. el needed the time away from mike, broken up, no contact, to focus on her self and improve and discover. this was more than essential. el thrives on solitude to become more powerful as an individual person. she needs to separate herself from mike to be the best version of herself. and that is why m*leven is not endgame. they are a a couple who do not work, they do not make each other better, and while i think a mike-el friendship dynamic could be really effective, as a couple they clash. even during the monologue, mike didn’t really achieve anything. he was kind of just saying words. i mean he canonically lied, what kind of confessional speech by a love-struck teen would be full of lies?? it doesn’t make sense. it is not supposed to make sense. we are supposed to notice these things.

i’m not even using this as byler proof, more just as the fact that i don’t find mike and el compatible, like at all. maybe as platonic buds, but not as a couple, and certainly not as a thriving endgame one. in conclusion, m*leven bones.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

TLDR; el needs to be seperate from mike to improve upon herself in every way.

#byler endgame #will byers #mike wheeler #el hopper #stranger things #st5 #st4 #st3 #st2 #byler #byler analysis #time for mileven to step down you are getting de fucking throned

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dwellordream · 2 months ago

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"...According to Ovid, Medusa was originally an extraordinarily beautiful mortal woman who was known for her gorgeous hair. Then, however, the god Neptunus (whom the Romans equated with the Greek god Poseidon) raped her in the temple of the goddess Minerva (whom the Romans equated with the Greek goddess Athena) and Minerva punished her by turning her into a hideous monster with snakes entwined in her hair and making it so that any mortal who saw her would instantly turn to stone. A claim has circulated online for years now claiming that modern people have misunderstood this myth and that, actually, Minerva turned Medusa into a monster and made it so that anyone who saw her would instantly turn to stone in order to protect her so that men would never prey on her again. This claim, however, is not supported by any evidence in any ancient source and, in fact, Ovid’s account expressly says that Minerva cursed Medusa in order to punish her for her involvement in desecrating her temple, even though her involvement was totally nonconsensual. Furthermore, the context in which Ovid tells the story strongly suggests that he intended his readers to sympathize with Medusa and question the justice of Minerva’s punishment.

...I think it is perfectly acceptable for modern storytellers to change and invent new versions of ancient myths—but, when they do so, they should be clear that this is what they are doing. When modern people try to claim that modern creative reinterpretations of ancient myths that they personally prefer are genuinely ancient stories and that the stories that are actually attested in the ancient sources are misinterpretations, they are spreading misinformation about the past. ...The earliest known version of the myth in which Poseidon rapes Medusa in Athena’s temple and Athena turns her into a snaky-haired monster as punishment, however, comes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Ovid was writing nearly seven hundred years after Hesiodos and in a very different cultural and historical context. He was not interested in simply retelling classic myths exactly as he had heard them, but rather in putting his own creative spin on them. As such, he frequently departs significantly from his source material, inventing new details, twists, backstories, and other elements out of whole cloth. As one may guess from the title, the central theme of the Metamorphoses is physical transformation. In it, Ovid tells many memorable stories about people and deities turning into animals and plants and even, as I discuss in this post I wrote in August 2020, men turning into a women and women turning into men. The story of Medusa’s transformation into a hideous snaky-haired monster fits well with this overall theme. As a Roman author writing in Latin, Ovid uses the Roman names for all the deities, calling Athena “Minerva” and Poseidon “Neptunus.”

...To understand why Minerva inflicts this harrowing punishment on Medusa, it is important to understand the historical, cultural, religious, and literary context of Ovid’s story. In general, the ancient Greeks and Romans did not regard their deities as moral paragons for mortals to imitate. On the contrary, the most common view of the deities held that, as a result of their immense powers, they were more-or-less not bound by human standards of morality.

As far as mainstream Greek and Roman religious thought was concerned, going around abducting and raping mortals—including mortal women, adolescent girls, and, in some cases (such as the myth of Ganymedes, which I discuss in great detail in this post I wrote in November 2021), adolescent boys—was simply completely normal, everyday behavior for any powerful male god. Stories about powerful male deities engaging in this sort of misconduct were absolutely ubiquitous throughout the Greek and Roman cultural spheres.

People, of course, recognized that abducting and/or raping people is morally wrong, but they also recognized that, if a powerful god like Zeus or Poseidon is doing it, no one can really do anything to stop them or hold them responsible for their actions. In other words, gods will be gods.

At any rate, if any ancient Greek or Roman person ever expected some deity to try to do something to stop male deities from sexually abusing and raping mortals, Athena/Minerva was probably one of the last deities they would ever expect to do such a thing. As I discuss at much greater length in this post I made in July 2021, ancient Greek and Roman sources generally portray Athena/Minerva as a staunch, unwavering defender and enforcer of the male supremacist patriarchal cosmic order that allows powerful male deities like Zeus and Poseidon to rape mortals with impunity in the first place.

...Sources written in the Greek language after Ovid generally don’t endorse his version of Medusa’s origin, instead mostly keeping to the older, more traditional story that Medusa was simply born a hideous monster. Ovid’s version of the story, however, seems to have enjoyed somewhat more acceptance in the Latin west and, thanks to his pervasive influence in western Europe from the Renaissance onward, it has become accepted as the standard version of the story throughout the English-speaking world today.

There is no ancient source that ever describes Athena/Minerva as transforming Medusa into a monster in order to protect her. This is entirely a modern reworking of the story that is meant to portray Athena/Minerva in a way that is more palatable to twenty-first-century feminist audiences.

Really, though, this reworking of the story does not actually make Athena/Minerva much, if at all, better. As the self-described “antiquity enthusiast” Meg Finlayson, who has a bachelor’s degree and two master’s degrees in classics, points out in this tweet they made on 2 September 2022, in this reworking, Minerva still transforms Medusa into a snaky-haired monster who turns anyone who sees her to stone without her consent, which is still a heinous and fundamental violation of her bodily autonomy.

If you want to change this story to make it portray Minerva/Athena even remotely positively at all, you’re going to need to go beyond merely changing the characters’ motivations. You’ll actually need to change the events of the story, have Medusa pray to Minerva/Athena and specifically beg her to transform her into a hideous monster with the power to turn anyone who looks at her to stone, and then have Minerva/Athena grant her this wish.

...Moreover, there is no evidence for the face of Medusa having ever been used in ancient Greece to specifically represent abused or victimized women in any form or capacity. Indeed, as I have explained above, the very earliest attestation of a story in which Medusa is even definitely a victim of rape at all is in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, dating to around 8 CE. Prior to this, there is no definite evidence for anyone at all regarding Medusa as a rape victim.

Medusa’s face was genuinely an important symbol in ancient Greece, but the Greeks used it as an apotropaic symbol—a symbol meant to generically ward off evil, similar to how some Greek people today use the mati eye symbol to ward off the evil eye."

#greek mythology #history #ancient #greek

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kaysfanficcorner · 4 months ago

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Celebrity Crush, Part 2

Summary: Dieter Bravo's new friend attends opening night of Dieter's play, and afterwards the two of them get more acquainted.

AO3

Author's Note:

I cannot believe it's been so long since I posted the first chapter of Celebrity Crush. Suffice to say, my life got completely turned upside down for awhile. I started a new job, and then shortly after we had a complete psycho living next door to us and had to vacate our home for safety. The last year has been so hard for a multitude of reasons, and although I didn't have the drive in me to do any writing, Celebrity Crush and Out of this World (my Mando series) have remained in the forefront of my mind. Both of these stories are so important to me. A few days ago it suddenly hit me that I was ready to sit behind a keyboard again.

So here we are, the second chapter of Celebrity Crush that should have been posted a over year ago. If you're new to this story, then welcome. If you read the first chapter and wondered why I never posted another, I sincerely hope you're back and you enjoy this one.

As I've said before, this story is really just a fun little fantasy experiment and I probably wont post chapters too frequently. And like most of us, I use my writing to work through personal shit using creativity. Some of it is drawing from reality and some of it is completely made up.

Honestly, I don't care for The Bubble over all. But I think Dieter is such an interesting character for being from a film that didn't have much substance. I feel the Dieter in the film is very different than the Dieter in my head, but what drew me to writing him this way was the thought "What is this man like when he's not riddled with drugs and Hollywood bullshit?" I hope you enjoy my version of Dieter just as much as I do.

Warnings: Marijuana use. Mentions of depression and self hatred. Hints at suicidal thoughts and self harm. And, of course, sexual situations. Rated M/R/18+ as always.

*****

Against the odds you make it to the theater faster than anticipated, but all the while your nerves make the train ride seem to feel agonizingly slow. Every stop eats away at you. It’s crowded and you’re freezing. The thin lace of the shimmery black evening gown may look absolutely killer on you, but the elegant thing isn’t a very warm piece of clothing whatsoever. All you brought with you as far as outerwear goes is the black leather jacket on your back. The only carry on item a small black and gold purse slung across your chest filled with only the bare necessities.

You feel borderline insane, still half convinced that everything you experienced earlier today was the result of falling and busting your head open on the Manhattan sidewalk. Surely you're laid up in some hospital bed with a bandage around your noggin, not on your way to spend an evening with your celebrity crush.

Your thoughts are erratic. Images bouncing around in your head like the orange balls of an arcade basketball game. At first you try to listen to music to quiet the overstimulation, but that only serves to make you more antsy. So you go back to the podcast episode you’d been listening to earlier and the humor is enough to distract you for a little while.

Every now and then, though, you pull up the short text conversation with Dieter to re-read over (more like over-analyze) the messages. With a happy little smile playing at your lips, your fingers hover over the letters of the keyboard. You even type out a message or two before immediately deleting it on more than one occasion. The knot in your stomach feels like its getting tighter by the moment, but looking at the contact photo he'd left for you leaves a warmth in the center of that knot. His eyes are so kind, and the goofy little smile is so genuine.

Groaning to yourself after the fourth time you do this, you shove your phone back in the small handbag with a huff. You want to talk to him again but you're fully aware that he's busy with the show. Closing your eyes, you force yourself to focus on the host of your favorite podcast describing a scene from Poltergeist II. You can't help the girlish daydreaming that eventually creeps into your mind. You imagine that watching Fright Night at Dieter’s will go so well that he invites you back over to marathon the Poltergeist franchise next. Then you imagine making a regular thing of watching horror films with him, curled into his side on some big luxurious couch that you're sure he must own. His hand ghosting over the flesh of your neck as he drapes a long arm over your shoulder, the other hand feeding you popcorn now and again. The giddiest smile yet finds your lips, and an excited little giggle erupts from your throat. Out loud.

Once you remember you’re on the train your eyes snap open in fear. Sure enough, the hot, green haired punk woman across the aisle is smirking right at you as if she knows your worst secret and you flush with mild embarrassment.

Mercifully, somehow, your stop comes up only a few minutes later. You’re off the train and back on street in no time at all, the sun almost completely set and the full moon already hanging high over the city of New York. The littlest taste of dark purple left in the sky is enough to make your heart soar, and you're once again reminded that you live here. In this huge, scary, magical place.

With the help of your trusty GPS you manage find the correct theater in under five minutes. It’s incredibly obvious as you round a corner and your sight is immediately struck with huge lamppost advertisements of Dieter and other actors dressed in Shakespearean garb. You’re not sure how to feel, gooseflesh making it’s way up your arms and back as you stand under the glowing marquee displaying his name in huge red letters. Checking your watch you find that you're actually somewhat early, so there’s plenty of time to get your ticket. Enough time to grab a drink from the bar on your way to your seat, even. Some of the anxiety subsides as you pop another half of a gummy on your way inside, telling yourself that whatever happens next you’re just along on for the ride.

The theater lobby is gorgeous, and it's filled with gorgeous people of every variety. You've been to a Broadway show before, but a matinee of a family friendly musical is a far cry from opening night of a huge production. There are a few minor celebrities you recognize and you're sure a good bit of the crowd is press, or at the very least some sort of influencer. A few of them even seem to be live streaming.

When you approach the box office you slide your ID under the thin gap in the glass, saying your full name to the white haired attendant dressed like a bellhop without the hat. For a split second fear creeps into your belly that all of this really is in your head and the woman is about to tell you there’s no such reservation. But then you’re being handed a thin envelope and she’s telling you to enjoy the show. You look down at the off white paper in your hands, very clearly reading the word “weirdo” scribbled in semi-legible masculine-looking handwriting. A new warmth spreads through you in that moment, and suddenly you’re no longer questioning the reality of where you are or why.

Once you check your jacket at the coat check you’re glad that you found the right dress for such an event. Everyone around you seems very well dressed and well-to-do. In anything else you’d feel so out of place, but in the knockout frock of 2018? You fit in nicely. Henry will most assuredly have to be thanked at a later juncture.

With a gin and tonic in one hand and a ticket in the other, you’re directed to a seat down in the front row but slightly off to the left. Of course he got you front row. How? Who knows and frankly who cares. This is a once in a lifetime kind of day and you intend to enjoy it.

Lights begin to dim shortly after you take your seat, and shortly after that music begins flowing out from the pit orchestra only a few yards away from where you sit. The sound of it reverberates through every single one of your molecules. The great red curtain begins to lift, and suddenly you’re transported into the realm of William Shakespeare. Admittedly never a subject you’ve felt very passionate about, but being here in this place and under these circumstances it suddenly seems quite magical.

Dieter makes his way onto the stage after a short opening scene, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. This is not the man you met on the street and had coffee with earlier that afternoon. No, this is a different man entirely. His handsome face may be the same, but he’s completely become the character he’s playing. Truly acting, you think to yourself with mystified splendor. Watching him move about the stage with such ease brings the biggest grin to your face. Hearing him delivering lines that you would have stumbled over as if they are his original thoughts is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced while watching a live play. He’s so fucking mesmerizing and so fucking talented and you ache for him so fucking bad in this moment.

This is the closest you've ever been to the stage at a show like this, and you realize towards the end of the first act just how much the distance makes a difference. Sure, you can still appreciate a performance from the nosebleeds, but down here in the front row? You can see everything. Every crinkle of the nose, every eyeroll, every movement of the brow. The performance feels so intimate in the front row. You finally understand why people consider it to be worth the cost.

The scene changes to night. Dieter's character is alone on stage, a spotlight following his movements as he confidently strides across. He's making his way over to your side, the closer he gets the more you feel your stomach flip flop inside you. His movements seem both deliberate and natural at the same time, and he begins to deliver a monologue in a soft voice. His eyes suddenly flick out towards you. For a delusional moment it feels as if he's acting to you and you alone, like you're the only audience he has before him and he's putting everything he has into the words flowing from his mouth. Suddenly his voice falters, followed by a long pause. He's still looking in your direction, but then his eyes slip closed and worry that he stumbled over the line floods your system.

Dieter continues to surprise you, though, by lunging into the rest of the monologue with such raw emotion and ferocity. He quickly moves across stage again, giving that side of the audience a taste of it as well. You realize then that all of that had been part of the performance. Watching the emotions he's tapped into radiate from his very being strikes you with such emotion of your own. Hot tears well in you eyes, falling slowly down your cheeks as you steady your breathing to keep control of yourself. Dabbing at your eyes with a napkin, your chest swells for your celebrity crush.

As Dieter finishes, he exits the stage and the curtain begins to drop for intermission. The crowd claps uproariously, yourself among some of the loudest and most enthusiastic.

After such a poignant moment in the show, you definitely feel like you could use to get another drink. You get up to leave just as an attendant stops you at the end of the aisle. The man asks if you are who you are, to which you respond in the affirmative, and then you’re being led out of the auditorium to a restricted area. There you are brought to a green door marked as “Dressing Room 1”, where the attendant raps on the thing three times before taking three strides back.

Door flying open, a disheveled Dieter is revealed to you on the other side. He looks frantic, almost pained. You’re shocked to see him like this after such a rousing performance in the first half of the play. Grabbing your wrist, he thanks the attendant and informs him that this will only take a few moments before yanking you into the small dressing room.

“What’s going on?” You ask, wide-eyed and confused.

Dieter looks you up and down, biting his pouty lower lip while running a hand through his beautiful brown hair. The he seems to remember that he’s not supposed to fuck up the hair, cursing under his breath while moving over to the mirror to fix it. He’s got on heavy stage make up, the eyeliner making him look like a mix between a rock star and a pirate. The dressing room itself looks like every single one you’ve ever seen in a movie. Costumes, make up, and wigs strewn about. Big white lightbulbs lining the large mirror over the vanity. Its surreal to say the least.

“I need your help, if that’s okay,” Dieter says as he turns to you again. “I don’t have a lot of time so this needs to be quick.”

You’re still frozen in place, slightly dumbfounded. “Help with what? You’re doing really great out there, by the way. Amazing, actually.”

“Thanks. Listen, I caught a glimpse of you towards the end of the first act and I’ve been distracted ever since. You look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, muñequita. But I can’t be fucking distracted while I work.” As he says this, he’s taking steps towards you with a very serious expression. Closing the short distance until he’s practically right up against you.

Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, which are fixated on your mouth, you part you lips and ask him, “How can I help?”

Then his hands fly to your face, and he’s pulling you into him for a kiss. His soft, plump lips find yours eagerly and you respond by melting into his touch. Your hands find his waist, grabbing on either side to steady yourself against the neediness of the kiss while trying not to upset the placement of his costume. The slickness of his tongue entering your mouth causes you to moan, opening wider to allow him better entry. He tastes so fucking good, like honey from the cup of tea he probably had earlier for his voice. His facial hair feels somehow both scratchy and soft against your skin.

And then he’s pulling apart from you, panting slightly as his wild eyes scan your face and his hands drop down to his sides. “Shit, I didn't really ask for permission to touch you like that. M’sorry,” he mumbles, clearly worried that a line has been irrevocably crossed.

You chuckle, glad to know his moral sense is sound. “I would have said yes, if it makes you feel any better. Thanks for caring about not being a dick, though.”

He looks shy, “I like you. Don’t want to get off on the wrong foot immediately.”

You heart rate speeds up when he says that he likes you. “Sorry I’m so distracting,” you offer lamely.

“Don’t be, muñequita.” He places another chaste kiss upon your lips before spinning you around and urging you towards the door. You let him guide you with ease. “We’ll continue this later, but I’ve got to get ready. Thank you for indulging me.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, grinning over your shoulder at him. “To be continued.”

“Si, mi hermosa.”

With that, you’re out in the hallway once more as the door closes behind you. You lean back against it with your head tilted up at the ceiling and your eyes closed, replaying the kiss you just shared with your celebrity crush. Once again everything feels both completely unreal and entirely tangible at the same time. A giddy grin spreads across your face as you giggle to yourself, fingers lightly grazing your still tingling lips. And then the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you back to reality.

The attendant is still there, having waited to escort you back to your seat. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment before he turns on his heel to begin walking back to the auditorium. Fucking really? Again? Oh well, you think with another giggle as you follow him.

Pulling out your phone, you send a quick update to Henry in the form of a single lipstick stain emoji and five exclamation points. You receive a colorful response almost immediately, making you snort a little as you type out, “I am not a skank! ...not yet at least,” in response.

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. Dieter’s performance in the final scene brings tears to your eyes once again. It has nothing to do with the attraction you feel towards him. You’re completely in awe of him on a professional level. Regardless of the messy reputation he’s been trying to move away from, at the end of the day Dieter Bravo is still a really great actor. Phenomenal, even.

After the standing ovation and the curtain call, during which Dieter winks down at you just as he lifts up from bowing and your heart skips a beat, everyone in the auditorium starts to vacate. Some people outright leave, others go to the bar for one more drink to mingle and discuss the show. Dieter had told you to stay put, and you never did get that second gin and tonic during intermission so you make your way through the crowds on a quest for your favorite drink.

Once at the lavish bar with your order placed, you lean against the elegant mahogany and truly take in your surroundings. It feels odd to be in a beautiful room full of well dressed strangers as they argue the finer points of William Shakespeare’s works. You over hear a couple of people praising Dieter, one person saying that he was “just fine, nothing spectacular”, and you find the concept of difference of opinion very interesting as you quietly hone in your eavesdropping skills.

Just as the bar tender is sliding your drink over, the small crowd of people begin clapping and cheering. You look up to see Dieter and some of the other actors from the show enter the bar, dressed in normal clothes once again. Even though he’s forced to smile and shake hands with a few random people along the way, he seems to notice you almost immediately. A wicked grin crosses his features as he tries his best to make a beeline for you.

“So you’re a gin and tonic girl?” Dieter asks as he finally approaches the bar, and you’re aware of many eyes on you.

“Uh huh,” you nod, talking through a plastered on smile, “I feel so fucking awkward right now with these people looking at me wondering why you’re talking to me.”

“Fuck these people,” whispering, he grins again almost devilishly, “so are you coming back to my place?”

You nod again, “Yes, please. If you'll still have me.”

“Fantastic,” he leans over the bar to whisper even lower, careful not to get too close with prying eyes all around. He orders a drink, just a seltzer with lime oddly enough, making it look like he’s idly chatting with you as he waits. “Here’s the plan: I have to mingle for a minute and sign a few autographs, but then I can make my escape. Drink your drink and wait about fifteen minutes, then leave out the front and go two blocks to the left then one to the right. There's a news stand on that corner. Wait for me there.”

“Copy that,” you agree, grinning as you take a sip. “Bravo by the way, Bravo. The play was great. You were great. I mean it.”

“Thanks, muñequita.” He chuckles, smiling almost bashfully. The smile accentuates all of the best things about his features, leaving him looking like a work of art. It’s insane that a man a almost twenty years older than you is so youthful to you. Youthful and so very beautiful. The concept shouldn’t work yet somehow it does. He’s so pretty. And by some stroke of fate he's interested in you.

So you execute this plan, waiting the agreed upon fifteen minutes as he fucks off to go mingle. You make quick work of running for one last trip to the bathroom, collecting your jacket, and leaving the theater all together. Stepping out into the chilly night, you walk two blocks to the left and one to the right just as he instructed. The news stand is there just as he said, but it's locked up for the night. It’s cold as hell and you really wish that you’d thought better of it when you left Queens. Holding yourself, you bounce from foot to foot trying to stay warm as you watch your breath form in front of your face. It’s only autumn and you’re from a few states further south, so you hadn’t considered how chilly the night would be.

“Hey, weirdo,” a voice appears from behind you after a long while. You turn to see Dieter standing there, a shy little smile playing at his lips and his hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing the black pea coat you’d seen him in earlier that afternoon, but the sunglasses have been replaced with a gray scarf and hat that he did not have before.

“Hey, crush,” you respond, attempting to grin at him through lightly chattering teeth.

He frowns, “Is that all you have to wear?”

“Yeah,” you pout, “I didn’t think this through. I was too worried about looking cute.”

“Well you succeeded, but you’ve got to dress warmer than that in this town.” He shakes his head, chuckling as he slowly unravels the dark gray scarf from himself. Stepping forward, he delicately drapes the warm thing around your neck, wrapping it around a few times so that you can bury the lower half of your face in its warmth if you feel the need to. You nearly moan as you inhale the scent of it, the scent of him. It’s intoxicating, carrying notes of tobacco, weed, and expensive cologne. You could breathe this in forever and never need real oxygen ever again.

“Your scarf smells really fucking good,” you mumble into the fabric, taking an obvious sniff. That second gin and tonic must have lowered your inhibitions slightly.

“You look really fucking cute in my scarf,” he says, pulling his coat together at the neck to try and shield himself from the fresh blasts of cold in that particular area. “What do you say we go watch that movie?”

“Let’s go,” agreeing, you nod forward as if to tell Dieter you want him to lead the way. He surprises you by extending an elbow so that you can grab hold of his arm while you walk beside each other. “How far is your place?”

*****

Dieter loves the feeling of your arm sliding into his, pulling you in close as he begins walking towards the apartment. Your hand grazes his for a moment, and when he feels how cold your flesh is to the touch he shakes his head with a chuckle. Working his fingers into yours, Dieter takes your hand in his before shoving both into the large pocket of his coat. Even though it’s cold to the point of being uncomfortable, he relishes in the feeling of your smaller hand in his.

“Not too far. Rented close to the theater so I could just walk to work.”

You snuggle into him after a little gust of wind causes you to shiver, burying your face into his scarf. Dieter is beside himself as you inhale deeply once again, looking up at him with a little grin. “Fuck, this thing smells so damn good. You smell so good.”

He's sure he's blushing from that.

Soon enough he’s guiding you into the entrance of the swanky apartment building lobby, explaining to the doorman that you’re his guest on the way towards the elevator. Once in the elevator, he hits the button for his floor and watches as you adjust to the warmth of the building’s heating system. You shake your arms out, leaning back against the hand rail.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to wear a better coat," you say.

“You may have suffered, but you do look fucking incredible in that outfit.” Dieter smirks down at you, one hand on the mirrored wall you’re pressed against as he looms over. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “Tell me, muñequita, did you get all dressed up like this to impress me? Did your hair and make up all nice even though we both know you don’t need any of that fucking shit?”

You blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again. He’s already leaning forward and you’re already lifting up to meet him halfway. “I might have,” you say lowly with a little smirk playing at your lips. “Maybe I like getting dressed up, and maybe I wanted to make sure that you knew I wasn’t fucking around with my intentions here.”

Just as his lips are about to make contact with yours, the elevator stops and the door opens. His head jerks up just in time to see a neighbor standing there waiting for their turn in the metal contraption. Clearing his throat, Dieter gestures for you to exit the elevator with him and the two of you awkwardly shuffle past the stranger. You’re stifling giggles and he lightly slaps you on the ass, no more than a tap really, as he chuckles.

Dieter’s apartment is right down the hall to the left. Unlocking the door, he allows you entry first and steps in behind you as he repositions the bolt to locked once more while also locking the chain. When he turns you’re standing there in the foyer a literal fucking vision, looking up at him with big doe eyes. He can tell that you’re a little nervous now that you’re actually in his home, but the awkwardness only serves to enhance how adorable you are to him. Dressed up in a sexy fucking black dress but with an almost timid energy is such a wild contrast.

“So, I want to take a shower before we settle in for the movie,” he says, “you’re welcome to borrow a sweater if you want something warm to change into.”

“I appreciate that. I could use to get cozy.”

Your cheeks flush, and he resists the urge to kiss you once more. Not yet. Earlier had been way too impulsive, like the old Dieter, and he wants the next time he kisses you to feel perfect. He likes you a lot. It makes him want to do right by you in a way that he's never been compelled to in the past. Not even with Anika, who he thought he loved a great deal at the time.

Dieter takes you through the decently sized apartment, noticing fondly how you’re slowly taking in your surroundings as he does so. He enters the bedroom, gesturing to the king sized bed with dark trimmings as he moves over to the huge closet and flings it open. Rifling through the selection, he plucks out a heavy eggplant purple sweater. Then he moves over to a dresser, where he pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs.

He looks you up and down, savoring every inch of your body in the black dress one more time before he offers you the warmer clothes. “Here, you can change into this if you want to. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while I’m getting cleaned up. I won’t be very long.”

*****

You watch as he lays the clothing down on the bed before moving for the attached bathroom. He shuts himself in with a little smirk on his face and you can hear the water begin to run, followed by the pleasant sound of Dieter humming to himself. The sound of it brings a smirk of your own to your lips.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly inform Henry that you’re at Dieter’s and you’re safe. Then you shrug off the leather jacket, sitting on the edge of the bed to undo your combat boots and kick them off. Standing while simultaneously unzipping yourself, you begin stripping down to your underwear. The nature of the gown’s neckline made it so that you’d foregone a bra tonight, so for a brief moment you’re standing in Dieter Bravo’s bedroom in nothing but socks, a pair of panties, and jewelry.

After admiring yourself in the large full-length mirror next to the closet, you move to grab his big purple sweater. The soft knitted garment slides over your head with ease, falling to just below your hips. You take the pair of boxer briefs, slipping them on like a pair of bike shorts. Your plump ass is almost too big to fit his size and you’re thinking endlessly about the fact that his dick was once nestled in this very fabric, but you manage to make it work.

Looking around the room, you try to get a vibe for what Dieter’s private life must look like. You’re happy to see that he’s still painting, having noticed a messy room full of canvases next to this mostly tidy bedroom. He’s got a living room and kitchen, obviously. It’s definitely bigger and far more modern than the apartment you share with Henry in Queens, but its not as extravagant as you’d expected it to be. He’s got a few things on the walls of the sleekly styled bedroom. Various dark atheistic art pieces, a vintage movie poster for some Italian horror film you’ve heard of but never seen, and a few framed Queens of The Stone Age vinyl's. He’d told you in the coffee shop that they’re his favorite band, and he wasn’t kidding. Not only is his tase in film similar to yours, his taste in music seems to be as well.

When your eyes land on the golden statue situated on a nearby shelf, said eyes nearly fall right out of your head. It's a shape you know well. An academy award, an Oscar. There are a few other awards on the same shelf. A Golden Globe, a few Emmys, and some you don't recognize. But the Oscar? Holy. Shit. That one is special for a multitude of reasons. You remember the night that Dieter won that Oscar so fondly, given that you and your parents would sit down to watch the award ceremony live every single year. Once you were old enough to appreciate film the way that you do now, the three of you would try and see every singe film that was nominated. That way, when the big night finally came, you could have your opinions and make your guesses with the confidence of someone who had seen the films. You used to look at your parents with complete confidence and tell them you plan to be there one day. That one way or another they'd go to watch and see you on the red carpet. Hopefully a dream that can still be achieved.

You'd been in high school when Dieter won his. The crush you have on him was already in full swing at this point. You'd begged your parents to go see his film opening weekend, and when the news of his best actor nomination came out you were over the moon for him. After having watched his career evolve from b-movie horror flicks to big studio films, you told your mother and father that he deserved it more than anyone. Your father had knowingly told you that maybe your little crush was clouding your judgment, so of course you'd rubbed it in his face when Dieter won.

Smiling to yourself, you can recall the way your stomach flipped and your heart swelled at the sight of him on the red carpet. He'd been dressed to the nines, with perfect skin and perfect hair. The biggest take away you have always kept with you from that night was how utterly grateful Dieter Bravo seemed to be there. Like he didn't quite believe that he deserved the recognition at all. It was bashful in a way that feels akin to how bashful he's been acting around you all night. The same kind of energy.

Thinking of the shock on a younger Dieter's face when the presenter opened the envelope and read his name to the audience, and the tears in his eyes as he climbed the stairs to the stage to make his acceptance speech, you're reminded of the fact that this must have been one of the biggest moments in his life. You'd watched him hold his Oscar with such fondness that night, and now that exact same statue is not three feet from your face. Involuntary movements cause your arm to reach out, and two of your fingers lightly caress the smooth surface. You desperately want to know how heavy it feels in your hands, but you don't dare try to remove it from its perch. God forbid you break the damn thing.

Dieter told you to get comfortable so you move to climb onto the bed, laying on your stomach at the foot of it. It’s so fucking luxurious that you nearly moan, pressing yourself into the pleasant material. A laugh bubbles up your throat as you realize that your parents are going to lose their minds when they eventually find out about this evening. Given that they had to hear Dieter's name dozens of times when you were a teenager, this is going to come as a wild shock.

Soon the shower cuts off and you hear him rummaging around in there. Then the door opens and Dieter reappears wearing an olive green bathrobe. His sopping wet hair looks two shades darker, falling around his head in a way that makes him look so adorable as he smiles over at you. His naturally tan skin is slightly reddish, indicating that the water of his shower had been hot.

“Mm,” he hums, “wearing my clothes in and lying my bed is a good look for you, muñequita. Better than that dress, even.”

You smile up at him, rolling onto your back as you stretch out. The littlest bit of tummy peaks out when the sweater rides up, and Dieter’s facial expression changes for the briefest of moments as he blatantly stares at the area of exposed flesh. You wonder if he’s going to try and make a move while he’s already mostly naked, but he quietly grabs himself a T-shirt and sweatpants before heading back into the bathroom without saying a word. You can’t decide if you’re disappointed or not. When he comes out again fully dressed, smelling of tea tree oil and hair fixed slightly with product, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed to stand next to him.

Bashfully gesturing for you to follow, he takes you out to the living room where a large couch and even larger TV are waiting to be used for their intended purpose. “Grab a blanket from that basket and make yourself at home,” he says in a friendly manner, moving to a bookshelf imbedded into the wall itself. There he plucks a horizontally placed book-the only one like this-off the second shelf down from the top. Coming to sit beside where you’re doing exactly what you’d been told, he sets the book down on the coffee table before grabbing the remotes to get the TV set up.

You lean forward, peering at the book for not even a millisecond before you realize that it looks like a beat up copy of Stephen King’s IT in hardcover. But its clearly not a real book. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a wooden box made to look like a book.

“What’s with IT?” You ask, left eye brow raised as you point to it.

“That’s one of my favorite books, scared the shit out of me as a young man,” he explains enthusiastically. “I take it the weirdo is a fan?”

“Oh hell yeah,” you’re also full of enthusiasm, similar to when you gushed about Fright Night to him at the coffee shop. “It’s indisputably King’s masterpiece! I’ve read it three times. But I meant what’s up with the fake copy.”

Dieter smirks at you, leaning forward to flick the thing open with an index finger. “This, muñequita, is my stash box. I’ve had this thing since college. It’s been with me through all kinds of crazy shit in my dumb life.”

Inside is a small row of four perfectly rolled joints all lined up together with a lighter and a small ashtray. You look down at the nice little set up, realizing that the act of smoking must be somewhat of a ritual for Dieter Bravo. Much like how you view your own use of weed in your daily life. It’s endearing to see that the two of you relate in that way. You’re also relieved to see that there isn’t anything harder than marijuana in the box.

“Love the set up,” you bump your shoulder into his, “and I love that you’re a weed guy. I never make any friends with the same sensibilities when it comes to smoking.”

Dieter’s face contorts for a second, morphing into something akin to uncomfortable. “Well, it’s the one vice I really allow myself these days besides cigarettes. Don’t really even drink much anymore. Before my last stint in rehab, I nearly died. Again. And then I lost everything. Got dropped by my old agent, then Anika left me. Ended up getting passed over for a role I felt really passionate about and the actor who did get the gig is probably going to be up for an Oscar this year. Some family stopped taking my calls. I didn’t know what real rock bottom felt like until all that shit happened. What a fucking wake up call. That was a little over a year ago. If it wasn’t for my sister helping me out I’d probably be dead right now.”

You’d read a headline last year about how Dieter was in rehab again, but you had no idea how bad things had actually been for him. Reaching a hand out, you tentatively stroke the inside of his wrist with a few fingertips. “Fuck, Dieter. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Please don’t be. I did it to myself. I let the pressure of Hollywood kill the little kid in me who just wanted to make movies like the ones I would go see with my family in the 80s. I’ve always had an addictive personality, and once you become famous it’s incredibly easy to get the worst kinds of drugs and fuck the worst kinds of people and do the dumbest kind of shit. That’s why I’m back in New York for the foreseeable future. I needed a break from LA and all the bullshit that comes with it.”

“Do you worry that smoking is going to make you relapse, though?” You ask, hoping you don’t sound judgmental. He’s opening up to you a lot, and you’d rather not scare him off. “Also I’m sorry for speaking so fondly of doing mushrooms at the coffee shop earlier today and for drinking at the show, if that was triggering at all.”

“Nah. I barely smoked weed like this before now. My thing was always coke and LSD and anything else like that I could get my hands on. Hard shit. Chemical shit. My doctor actually prescribed a medical card because smoking helps chill me out and relax when I feel like the pressure is getting too strong again and a real craving is starting to hit me. And no worries about the mushrooms or the drinks. I’ll never touch that chemically altered shit ever again, but if it grows from the Earth it’s alright by me. I’m also in therapy, so that’s helping a lot. I feel like I got a second lease on life, and I’m trying really hard not to fuck things up this time.”

“That’s really admirable, Dieter. Everyone makes mistakes but not everyone has the will power to grow from them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, “Yeah. I still hate myself most of the time, though.”

“I can relate to that. I used to have a real problem with self hatred. Mine just manifested in a different way.”

He’s being vulnerable with you, almost a silent permission for you to be vulnerable as well, so you slide up the oversized sleeve of his sweater to show him your left forearm. The colorful, horror themed tattoo that sprawls across your flesh does a good job of covering up what’s underneath at first glance, but if someone is really looking the raised scars beneath the ink are clearly there.

Dieter looks down at it for a long moment before his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. He reaches out, hovering fingers just above your skin as he silently waits for you to allow this. You nod, swallowing, and the tips of his index and middle fingers graze lightly over the surface of scar tissue. His touch leaves a tingling sensation in it’s wake. He frowns then, looking into your eyes once more as his hand lightly encircles your wrist. “I don’t like that you used to hurt yourself.”

You reach out, brushing a damp curl from his forehead as you look his face over with a frown of your own. “And I don’t like that you used hurt yourself. Seems like we’ve both dealt with a lot of pain in our lives.”

“Seems like it,” he agrees as a self conscious expression crosses his features. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to get so serious on you. You’re just so easy to talk to and I don’t have a lot of friends. Genuine ones, anyway.”

Smiling, you take his hand and squeeze it once before letting it drop. “It’s okay, really. I’m glad that you feel comfortable being honest with me.”

Dieter leans towards the coffee table, grabbing a joint from the box and placing it between his lips before moving to light it with the red bic lighter. He eyes you with a cheekily grin, waggling his eyebrows about. “You wanna split this?”

“Hell yes,” you agree, grinning as he hands the burning thing over to you.

As you smoke together, Dieter gets everything set up to watch Fright Night while the two of you continue to converse.

“So what was Dieter Bravo like as a young man?” You ask suddenly, eyeing him with a playfully narrowed gaze as you take your two puffs.

His eyes widen comically. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what was your style? What music were you into, what high school click were you a part of?”

“The nerds and the goths and the punks and the theater kids,” Dieter replies immediately, smiling fondly at you. “That character you had such as crush on as a pre-teen? That was pretty much me. I had the jet black hair, the piercings, the black trench coat. My favorite Depeche Mode and The Cure tapes were worn out in my first car. I thought I was a badass motherfucker, going to play practice to rehearse Guys and Dolls dressed like fucking early 90s Dracula.”

You gush, “I adore Dracula so you get points from me. Man, I wish I could have seen you in your young goth days. I bet it was adorable. Also, you were in Guys and Dolls? So was I, in middle school! But I had a super small background role. I was basically just in the chorus.”

He seems shocked by this, “What? How the hell weren’t you the lead?”

“I froze up in my audition just like I always did. I have no idea how you people can act. It’s so nerve wracking. I much prefer the storytelling aspect of the business.”

“Really? You think so? It's always been so natural for me.”

“Oh one hundred percent. I had one good experience in drama class with a monologue that I nailed and that was about it. You, on the other hand, you make it seem like the easiest thing in the world. God, watching you tonight was magical. I truly believed that you were another person up there. What is it you love about acting that makes it seem like a no brainer?”

He seems to mull this over for a moment, “That’s just it. I get to be someone else for a little bit. I’ve never liked myself very much so getting to be another person is so appealing to me. Why I always liked wearing costumes on Halloween. I forget that I’m Dieter and I become whoever it is I’m playing while the camera is rolling or its my queue to be on stage. I don’t worry about what the people watching me are thinking or feeling, because I’m temporarily living the life of another person who’s somewhere else doing something spectacular and those people spectating don’t even exist.”

“Wow, that answer was kind of incredible.”

He shrugs, looking shy again. “Just answering from the heart. That’s not what I would have said in an interview.”

You reach over and stroke his hand. “Well, thanks for talking to me like a real person.”

He pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles once. “Thanks for treating me like a real person.”

After the joint is finished Dieter begins the movie. You honestly expect it to last all of twenty minutes, assuming (and hoping) that Dieter will eventually make a move that leads to the two of you making out and missing most of the film. He surprises you yet again, when he shows no interest in carrying on during the viewing. At one point, about a half hour in, Dieter tells you that you’re too far away and motions for you to come lean your body against him. You do, heart racing, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. But that’s all he ever does.

Dieter Bravo is dead set on watching the movie he invited you over to watch. You aren’t disappointed, though. In fact, you’re thrilled that the movie hadn’t been a tactic to fuck you after all. He genuinely wanted to watch it and he genuinely wanted you to be a part of the experience. It endears him to you that much more.

When the nightclub sequence happens, your favorite part of the film, Dieter dances a little with you while seated. You laugh heartily when he says, “This is way hornier than I remember it being.” But he still doesn't make a move.

After the film’s conclusion, Dieter lights up another jay and checks the time. It’s late. “Would you like to sleep over?” He asks shyly, handing the joint over.

Taking a long drag, you nod your head before speaking through a small cloud with a sleepy little grin. “I’d love to sleep over, Dieter.”

The actor takes a long drag himself, grinning as he seems pleased with this. “You don’t have to sleep in the bed with me if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcome to join me. Or you can have it and I can just fuck off here on the couch. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“I’m comfortable here,” you smile warmly, amused by him. He looks so cute when he’s high like this, red eyes squinting as an almost gentle timidness takes over. “Are you trying to act like a gentleman, Dieter?”

“Kinda,” he agrees, eyebrows raising a little as he puffs on the joint twice more. “Part of me wants to be gentlemanly, and part of me wants to be honest and say I really want you in bed with me. That I want take you into that bedroom and show you what you fucking do to me.”

“I mean, I honestly wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

*****

And that’s how you find yourself positioned head down and ass up, hands tied behind your back with a designer neck tie from Dieter’s closet as the man himself fucks you relentlessly from behind. His cock, thick and lovely and torturous, sliding into you unprotected with such force and rhythm that your once tandem movements with his are now erratic and messy. You sound like a wild animal, feral noises escaping you as he presses his thumb against your exposed clit with the lightest amount of pressure.

“Come on, sweetheart," he coos, "I know you can get wetter than this for me.” Then he increases the pressure, and you start to moan deeply against the mattress to this sensation you adore so much. The most private of feelings in the most private of places, a pleasure you've only experienced with a handful of individuals. Somehow, someway, here you are experiencing it with the man you’ve crushed on for nearly two decades of your life.

Your legs begin to tremble as the pleasure budding in your core begins to fire up rapidly. “Oh fuck, D. Feels so fucking good when you touch me there.” You can’t see him (you can’t open your eyes is more like it) but you know he’s grinning down at you like a wild man. He’s sweating, and you imagine that his lovely hair is growing damper by the moment.

“Mm, dirty fucking girl likes her perfect little clit being played with? How’s it feel to have your celebrity crush touch you like this? Fucking that perfect little pussy at the same time? I bet this doesn't even feel real, does it?”

“So-gah-so fucking good,” you repeat the previous phrase, practically purring, and Dieter spanks you once. The right cheek to be exact. You cry out into the sheets bunched up in front of your face, wrists straining against the silky bonds behind your back. Your shoulders and neck are starting to give in a little but you’re also not ready to ask him to stop. This is heaven in every sense of the word.

“Oh, come on. You’re a smart fucking girl, I know you have better vocabulary in that pretty fucking head of yours. Nerdy fucking girl’s read IT three times, after all.” He spanks you again, the left cheek this time. You squeal, feeling the sting and loving every bit of it’s sharp sensation through your backside.

“My nerve endings are on fire,” you start, panting and grunting between words, “it feels like those Fourth of July sparklers are gently burning my skin all over. You now, the ones on long metal sticks that you wave around? Little prickles of heat are assaulting my senses all at once. I can't believe I'm here with you and you're making me feel this good. Fuck, I’m so close to cumming, Dieter, please.”

Dieter pumps into you even harder, slamming into your cervix and causing you to squeal from the combined pain and pleasure of it. Never once does it occur to you to ask him to stop as you whine and writhe with a huge, open mouthed smile plastered to your otherwise contorted face. Dieter begins to coo and soothe you, slowing his thrusts down slightly while removing his thumb. “Good girl. I knew you had something more eloquent to say. Oh, fuck, I can’t last much longer, muñequita.”

“I want to taste it,” your salacious voice pleads, bound hands reaching back for him.

“Fuck. Careful with what you say, you sound so fucking sexy and I can’t take it.” He pulls out of you then, gently guiding your body to lay on your side. Even though he’s been rough with you (at your request), you can tell he’s still displaying a level of responsibility as the one sort of in charge.

“Give it, D, please,” you plead more, mouth dropping open and tongue poking out expectantly when he turns his attention to you once more.

“Dirty fucking girl,” he hisses, his hips bucking as you suckle the tip of his length with a prominent swirl of the tongue. Eventually he’s grabbing your hair with a vulnerable sounding moan, pushing into your mouth as far as he can go while emptying himself down your throat. You eagerly take every bit, adoring how his body relaxes so completely against you. For a moment it seems as if Dieter is trying to savor the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, but then suddenly he’s pulling out and your hands are being untied. “Your turn, mi hermosa muñequita,” he growls, flipping you onto your back as he lays across the bed, positioning his head between your parted thighs.

And so you writhe and squirm and shake, mouth spewing wickedly dirty things as Dieter’s expert tongue works you over. Every touch, every whisper of breath against your flesh is both electrified and amplified. Feeling his mustache tickle your swollen nub, the vibrations of his chuckles when he knowingly backs off at the cusp of your orgasm and you groan in frustration at him. It’s torture in the best possible sense of the word, leaving you feeling like you’re willing to do just about anything in order to spend the rest of your life fucking Dieter Bravo and letting him fuck you.

After awhile he adds a few fingers, filling you up to simultaneously stimulate the internal nerve endings that were feeling neglected within your warmth. The addition of these sensations is enough to finally send you over the edge and this time he allows it to happen, gripping onto your trembling legs as he bares down on your clit with repetitive swirls. Sparks begin to build within your core, soon cresting over the edge as pure hormonal pleasure takes hold of your body in an intense orgasm.

Coming down from the natural high of sex, you’re aware of Dieter climbing to the top of the bed so that he can lay beside you. Little kisses being peppered up your torso until they reach your mouth, deepening only slightly for a moment before the slick lips are gone again. Everything that just happened feels like an insane fever dream for a few moments until his voice brings you back to the present. In the afterglow of the connection you just shared with him, he looks fucking radiant.

“I think you and I should just do this forever. That was too fucking good for this to be a one time thing.” He says, looking you over with a hopeful look in his eye and a lazy little smile on his plump lips.

You giggle, rolling onto your belly as you nudge him with your nose upon his shoulder. “Yeah? Like once a week we get together and bang until we're too old to fuck?”

Chuckling, he grins down at you with a genuine air about him, moving hair from your face while looking into your eyes. “I mean, that sounds like a good arrangement to me. More than once a week is also acceptable.”

“I think you’ve got yourself a bargain,” you laugh, a great yawn escaping your lips afterward. “Mm. Get under the covers with me so we can sleep and then maybe do this again when we get up in the morning.”

“Oh shit a wake and fuck?” Dieter makes a silly face, drawing out the ‘i’ in shit for a few seconds while he makes quick work of getting the blankets pulled up over the both of you.

“A wake and bake and fuck,” you correct him with a little cheeky grin as you wiggle yourself under the warm bed coverings.

Morning comes, and so do the two of you. Once before a shower, once in the shower, twice just after breakfast. You’re not sure your ovaries can take much more of it. You’re certainly going to be walking funny back to Queens, that’s for sure. Breakfast is absolutely amazing. Dieter surprises you by whipping up some crepes from scratch. His ability is impressive, even more so when they turn out to be delicious. Banana, strawberry, Nutella. The man goes all out, even sprinkling on some powdered sugar. The fact that he can cook and likes to cook is such a plus.

You're not sure what's going to happen from here, but you take comfort in the way he acts as if he has to be torn away from you later to head to the theater. The goodbye you share doesn't feel like goodbye forever, and for now that's enough.

*****

It’s Friday morning, just a few days after the night of your life spent with Dieter Bravo. You haven’t messaged him for fear of coming off too needy or creepy, and for reasons unknown he hasn’t messaged you either. It’s disappointing, but the fact that you even slept with him at all is a miracle in it of itself. You’re trying to just count your blessings that it even happened and not feel too terrible about the fact that nothing more has come of it. Propped up in bed with your lap top and a cup of coffee, you’re trying desperately not to think about him as you focus on the task at hand.

Then your phone rings with a FaceTime call. Odd, you haven’t set up a time to talk to your little sister today and she’s the only person who uses FaceTime to call you. Plus, it’s only just after 10 am and you’re currently working on the clerical work you do part time from home, so she knows not to bug you unless its an emergency. Curious, you lean over from your fold out bed-top desk to look at the incoming call and a huge grin spreads across your features. With a fluttering in your stomach, you grab the device and answer.

Dieter Bravo’s face appears on the screen, grinning brightly at you. “Hey, weirdo,” he says, sounding happy as a clam while squinting into the phone. He’s outside somewhere with trees, Central Park you’d imagine, and you can tell that there’s a bit of a glare. But he’s not wearing sunglasses, instead the pair you’ve seen him with before is nestled in his mane of wild brown hair. The gesture comes off as if he purposefully wanted you to see his eyes, even if he can barely open them.

“Hey crush,” you respond, thrilled that he decided to call you first. “What’s up?”

Dieter looks almost bashful for a moment. “Just wanted to see your face. Picture wasn’t good enough, I needed to see that pretty fucking smile of yours in real time. I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the minute you left my place the other day, but I figured it was best to give you space. Didn’t wanna bombard you or make you uncomfortable.”

You smile even more brightly for him. “You know, I’ve been doing the same exact thing. It’s been killing me not to text you but I didn’t want to come off as needy. Is it weird that I miss you? I know it’s been less than two days but I really haven’t stopped thinking about you, D. I miss feeling your presence.”

“Same here, sweetheart. You’ve taken over my fucking brain.”

“When can I see you in person again?”

“There’s a performance tonight… but if you want to you could come over now and just hang out around the house until I get back? You could use your lunch break to get here and then finish working. Plus you’re more than welcome to watch my movies and eat my food.”

“I think I could be persuaded,” you say, smirking as you lay across the bed, holding the phone out as you do so. “Tomorrow’s the weekend and I don’t have any work to do on that indie project yet so I’m free for the next two days. I could cook something for the both of us to have when you get back tonight.”

“You wanna cook for me, muñequita?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “I wanna do something nice for you.”

“Wanting to hang out with my old, dumb ass again is more than enough,” he says, avoiding your gaze. He’s acting so shy. Its driving you wild to see that you have such an effect on a man you’ve lusted after for most of your post-pubescent life. You smile warmly at him, not willing to give in to his obvious trepidation. “Hey, please look at me?”

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, trying to hide the infectious smile pulling at the edges of his gorgeous mouth. The sun must have dipped behind some clouds, because he’s not squinting as harshly anymore. You can see more of his deep brown eyes as they bore into you through the seven inch screen in your hand. “You just do something to me that I’m not quite used to,” he adds, “it can be kinda overwhelming.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, “you don’t need to be sorry. I just want to see you looking at me while I say this.” Dieter nods, seeming to be genuinely looking at you, so you go on, “I like you. I mean, I really like you. One of my favorite ways of showing affection for people I like is through the act of feeding them delicious food, and I’d love to show you some affection if that’s alright with you, Dieter.”

His face softens considerably, as if what you just said has struck him in some significant kind of way. “That’s alright with me, yeah. I like you too, weirdo. Like, a lot.”

Stomach summersaulting within your abdomen, your face heats up as an uncontrollable little giggle escapes your throat. Your celebrity crush just said he likes you a lot. Christ, this cannot actually be real. There’s simply no way. “Well now that that’s out in the open, my handsome celebrity crush who likes me a lot, I’m going to pack a bag and hop on the train. Are you in Central?”

“Yeah, but I’ll start heading home soon to meet you there. If you want, feel free to pack a bag for more than one night. I don’t have a show on Sunday, we could make a day of it. Maybe go to a museum or something.”

“I’d love that, Dieter. Seriously.” You're absolutely beaming.

“Me too, muñequita. Now go get that thick little ass of yours moving so I can grip it in my hands while I fuck you up against my bedroom wall before work.”

*****

Part 1

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