#games and other media are supposed to be subjective so i wanted to voice how i felt for others to maybe see

[starlightkun]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s nice. Did you have fun?”

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

“Meet anyone?”

“Kind of. Seven someones, technically.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

“Do influencers and streamers really count as celebrities?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not—”

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

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

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

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

All that was left was to make her proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t.”

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

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

“If that’s what’ll convince you.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fine.”

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

They all nodded in assent, anticipating your question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm— I don’t know. Why?”

“We should hang out.”

“What?”

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

“I guess.”

“Then we should start right now.”

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

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

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

“Then tomorrow.”

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

“What do you do for work?”

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

Jeno was unfazed, “What’s the topic?”

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

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

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

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

You sighed, “It does...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lee Jeno, apparently.”

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

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

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

“Right.”

Not a great idea to leave him on read.

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

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

It was less than a minute later that he replied.

[jeno: here’s my schedule]

[jeno: attached image]

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

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

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

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

“So far the last one seems most likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind—”

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

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

He didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

“You knew Jaemin before you guys were famous?”

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

“And what about the others?”

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

Why you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? I think it’s a cute nickname.”

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

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

“Really,” you echoed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you did give her a hard time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” You questioned in pleasant surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno! Lee Jeno!”

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are we going?”

He abruptly stopped, “Here is fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

“Done what?”

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

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

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

And you panicked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could dream.

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

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

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

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

“I said no,” you deadpanned.

“What?”

“Well, kind of.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s hot.”

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

She snorted, “That’s a problem?”

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

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

“No, never. I couldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t do it.

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

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

Maybe because you did kind of want to date him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now.

Maybe you liked the idea of that.

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

“Can I at least tip?”

“Already added that on the receipt.”

“How dare you be so thoughtful and respectful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s good, Y/N,” she started.

You sensed a ‘but’ coming next.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, another ‘but.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Ms. Zhang.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And she wants a second part.”

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

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

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

Maybe forever, if you could swing it just right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since now.”

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

You frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

Shit, this dude was way too fucking sweet.

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got plenty of paper.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A quiet laugh came from your mouth at his backpedaling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right!”

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds ominous.”

He giggled.

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

“Yep!”

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

“Yep!”

“Without a guide.”

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

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

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

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

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

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

“Let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

“Nope.”

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

Jeno raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A couple more minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.”

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

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

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

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

“Who doesn’t like to travel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“When do you think that will be?”

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

“And the latest?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Movie nights,” he immediately surmised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can wait three weeks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Together!” He repeated.

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

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

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

“It took you five days to read it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a question…”

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

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

“Ask away.”

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

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

“Yeah, of course.”

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

“Jeno, I’m sorry—”

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

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

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“Christ, I was joking!”

“I wasn’t!”

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

⤷ blog masterlist

[0alanasworld0]

Celebrity Crush (Pablo Gavi x reader) *request

Request: Hii can u do gavi having a crush on actress reader and he reveals it after being asked abot his celeb crush in an interview :) ♡

A/N - I know that this request has been completed before but I've always wanted to write one of these and I think that my take is sufficiently different from the other writer's -> I feel justified in posting it. I hope that makes sense lol

Warnings: none

“The love of your life is gonna be there, eh!” Pedri pokes at his best friend’s shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Pablo scoffs, one tiktok post on his screen is all it took for his little crush to become the team’s hot gossip. And it’s been a month!

“Are we really still on this?” gavi groans, throwing a hand over his face in an attempt to cover the blush of embarrassment as his teammates cackle around him. The joys of being the youngest (!)

“Hey, it's completely natural to have feelings lik-” 

“No no no no no I can’t deal with this today!” He grabs his bag and stomps out of the locker room, shaking his head with a huff. He would never dare admit this to his friends but my god if you weren’t the most stunning woman he had ever come across. Everything about you just oozed grace and elegance. Your voice was smooth and honeyed, striking eyes and a dazzling smile. You had an aura that just drew people towards you yet a shyness: there’s a little glimpse into how nervous the attention made you but you were still an infectiously positive influence on those around you. It certainly wouldn’t be surprising knowledge to anyone that Pablo had a little crush on you, many did. BUT the idea of you ever getting an idea of those feelings from the internet just made him cringe. He didn’t want to join a roster with those creeps. He didn’t even know you!

It was all an especially sensitive topic to him since you had mentioned being a football fanatic in a recent interview and you did express admiration for a certain La Liga goalkeeper that had him slightly disgruntled. However, when you also mentioned a certain Catalonian team as a favourite, he was shocked to say the least. You spoke very highly of them and it was becoming more and more apparent that you likely knew of him. Were you a fan? Did you just think of him as some stupid kid like everyone else? Have you ever been to one of his games and if so how did he not see you??

“So, you’re pretty new and upcoming so there's an air of mystery around you. I mean, we really don’t have anything on you! For a break-out star, it's a bit weird, don’t you think?” the host says, elbow propped up on the table with her head resting on their hand. 

“Yeah, I get that but suppose I’ve been a bit of a recluse my whole life uh… I don’t know! I’m not always on social media and I haven’t really done many interviews so I guess there never really is much of an opportunity? Even with the press stuff I have done, it’s all been very much focused on the show itself so y’know…” you trail off with a bit of uncertainty, wringing your hands under the table.

“Well, I’m gonna try and change that! We’re gonna treat this kinda like a first date, just a basic get-to-know-you type scenario, you cool with that?” she asks tentatively

“Yeah that sounds pretty good!”

“Okay let's start easy uh… favourite colour?”

“I feel like the range between blue and green is pretty solid, what do you like doing outside of work?”

“I’m kind of a soccer fanatic, actually! I used to be a die-hard football fan but something about soccer just makes it feel so much more energetic y’know?” You nod in agreement, smiling at the shared interest, perking up a bit.

“I have to agree with you on that one. I used to play all the time when I was a little kid and I burned out on it as a teenager but seeing it regain that energy over recent years is something so special!”

“Exactly! I really think we’re meshing here!” you both laugh as you jokingly hold hands over the table.

“Okay okay back to the subject matter, what's your favourite league?”

“The EPL.” you say, mouth twitching as the laugh threatens to break out. The interviewer narrows her eyes and takes her hands back, cocking her head to the side. The silence only makes it harder until both of you burst out into laughter, tearing up a little bit.

“Okay no be real…” the interviewer struggles to get the words out through the giggles. You finally manage to settle down and get the words out.

“Honestly I think that La Liga has really been seeing a revival. I still love the Bundesliga and Serie A but it's been super interesting to see the quality of La Liga go up so dramatically.” The interview nods and hums in interest. She raises her eyebrow with her next question.

“Any favourite players?”

“I can’t say any names for fear of it actually reaching them but the goalkeeping last season was stellar and I think that the Zamora trophy was very well earned.” ducking your head down as a small blush appears on your face. The interviewer smirks but continues.

“Okay fine but you have to have a favourite team?”

“Within La Liga, Barcelona has been super inspiring! It was a pretty tough time losing such consistent and reliable talent especially under those circumstances where they didn’t want to leave but I would have never expected a revival like this!”

“Tell me about it, and to come from such young players too?!”

“Exactly, it’s wonderful to see them be so resourceful given their… situation and it’s clearly working so I’d say that those promotions were very wise decisions on their part!”

…..

The teasing had always been there since the team found out about it but it took an upturn after that interview. Fans were picking up on the idea given the fact that the pair of you were the same age. The edits rolled in much more quickly than what he expected: the sensual  music, the mashups of his and your best moments, the illusion of the pair of you looking at each other. He doesn’t understand how they did it and he’s angry at the fact that he isn’t more offended by people imagining you as a couple. He wasn’t overjoyed by the ones of you and Pedri or a certain Moroccan goalkeeper that you referred to in the interview but nevermind. He couldn’t help but be a little curious about whether you two would be compatible. I mean it wasn’t too outlandish of an idea was it? You’re both young, struggling with fame, passionate, who knows maybe-

“Pablo, I’m begging you: get your head out of the clouds and pull it together!” his agent yells, throwing an empty water bottle in his direction.

“When are you free for a fitting?”

“... Huh?” he breathes out deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in annoyance. The poor man just needs this one date sorted for the gala, he just wants to go home and yet here they are. All he needs is about a minute of focus.

“Okay if I have to say this one more time, I’m throwing the whole water drum at you.” the boy gulped, eyes widening at the threat, nodding vigorously as he straightened his back. Julian was a lovely guy with the patience of a saint and Pablo was grateful to have him as a publicist but he had his limits.

“Y’know that premiere Robert was going to?”

“Vaguely” Julian raises his eyebrows at that. This show has been on everyone’s lips for a good few months and to add to that, a particular name was frequently attached that would have been very familiar. Nonetheless, he chooses not to press. He just wants to get this all over and done with.

“Right well, some idiot insisted that he needed to do some promotional stuff instead so you’re going… well if you can actually cooperate and help me sort out a fitting date, that is.” he says, eyes narrowed at Gavi. Sighing out when he realises that the message has finally been received.

“Wait wait wait, why can’t pedri go?!” Julian decides that he will, in fact, push.

“Okay, I just told you that you’re going to be able to attend a premiere for the film that the love of your life is leading and you’re asking me why someone else can’t go?” Gavi looks down and plays with his fingers. Julian shakes his head, let's get this over with.

“No, magically no one else is available. Let’s get this fitting done at 10:00pm tomorrow, yeah?” any chances of being flexible are long gone, his patience running very thin. Julian hurries out of the room, holding his hand out to prevent Pablo from saying anything that would prolong the conversation.

“You do realise that this girl literally has no reason to dislike you, right?” Pedri says, looking up from his phone to see Gavi messing around with his tie and rolling his eyes. 

“Apart from the fact that I’m largely advertised as a player with a giant ego and no anger management skills?” Gavi huffs. Sure, your comments on the team were largely positive but you had to have seen some of the famous outbursts.

“Hermano, I can assure you that the way that you play completely overshadows the angry  chihuahua behaviour. If she can’t see that, then she’s not worth your time.” he shrugs. Oh if only it were as simple as that. Pedri may have been right but the fact of the matter was that he wanted you to like him. You were ethereal and the idea of you not liking him made his chest tighten. 

“See! This is what I mean! I doubt she’d have any interest in an ‘angry chihuahua’” Gavi turns around to face his best friend, aggressively air quoting.

“C’mon man, I was only joking.” Pedri gets up to give him a reassuring hug. He can sense that his friend is still extremely nervous so he releases the hug before continuing.

“Look, she seems nice enough and she likes the team. The most you have to worry about is the great wall of Morocco sweeping her off her feet before you.” patting his cheek with a smile. Gavi looks away and huffs again but is unable to hold back the smile. Okay, that was funny. He’d never admit that, though. Thank goodness, he’s married.

“Oy, apparently that Gavi kid is gonna be there!” your ears perk up at your friend’s comment. ‘That Gavi kid’ was a phenomenal footballer and very quickly caught your attention the first time you saw him play live. The guys you’re constantly having to deal with are all the same type with very little motivation or ability to do the simplest of things. The fact that there was someone around your age having the talent, motivation and passion to play for (and help resurrect) one of the most iconic teams in the world as well as his national team was so incredibly attractive to you. His doe-eyes and fluffy, chocolate brown hair definitely helped him out in the looks area as well.

“He seems like a sweet guy, I happen to think we’d get along quite well actually!” your cheeks heat up as a shy smile makes its way onto your face.

“Oh there's no doubt about that! Being swept off your feet by Barca’s golden boy is very on-brand for you! And have you SEEN those edits, wow!” She fans herself jokingly as you throw a pillow at her head.

“Okay that's enough of that. Now I beg you just choose between one of these!” you’re holding up the two dresses you spent ages narrowing down to.

“Girl, you’re going to be the star of the show, those edits will be up and out regardless of whether your dress is cerulean blue or midnight blue.” you roll your eyes as you eye the 2 dresses once more.

“What has gotten into you? You usually have this stuff picked out weeks in advance!”

“I don’t know, just having some doubts is all.”

“Look, I promise that your lover boy is going to be blown away with either of these.”

The taxi ride feels like forever. He’s redone his tie more times than he could count. He’s been keeping a close eye on every rumoured attendee’s social media to try and up his morale but finally, they make it to the venue. It’s all glammed up with lights lining up the red carpet. It leads to the doors which are strictly guarded by 2 burly men in all black. The odd nightclub visit may have felt normal to the poor boy but not this. It's a little too much and just as he thought he had calmed down, the nerves make their unwelcome return and his hands are sweating again.

The second he opens the taxi door, the cameras start flashing and people start yelling his name. Gavi takes the time to thank his driver, passing over a generous tip before slowly exiting. Why do they have to be like this? Why do I have to be like this? He asks himself. The suit that he had made to his form by the finest tailors just days prior suddenly felt too tight. It was some of the most expensive material yet it now felt scratchy and coarse against his skin. It was all suffocating: the noise, the lights, the smell; everything. He rushes down the carpet with his head down, ignoring the requests to smile for the camera. The words were barely intelligible anyway.

The temporarily converted mall is still extremely busy and loud but the lack of paparazzi and yelling was a change he felt very grateful for. The noise is more energetic chatter and less ear-shattering screeches as the walk-in was. He sighs in relief when he sees a familiar face. 

“Ah, Gavira! You made i- what’s wrong?” his teasing smile turns into a look of concern.

“What?! Nothing! Why would you ask that?” he’s rambling, still rattled from the entrance.

“Oh hermano you look like you’re about to cry!” Julian gives him a hug which Pablo gladly accepts. It’s just a lot. He has nothing to ground him or divert his attention like the pitch does. There is probably a reason why Robert is usually the one to go to events like this.

“Look, I know that the entrance was a bit much but I promise you, that was the hard part. Now it's just gonna be a couple interviews, some less chaotic photos, try to talk to some of the actors here… you’ll have fun, okay?” Gavi nods with a semi-enthusiastic smile on his face, it probably looked more like a grimace but nevertheless.

It’s been a big improvement from the first impression and Gavi is enjoying himself. He didn’t have very many photos taken at all and it’s been a relief to see footballers other than himself dotted around. Talking to them, among some of the actors, has given him some reprieve. It isn’t so bad after all.

The first interview isn’t too much of a hassle for him either. He’s used to much less friendly people than this.

“So, it must be pretty crazy to receive such high praise from such a highly coveted actress, huh?”

“I mean, yeah! She didn’t refer to me directly but it’s awesome anyway. I’m glad our team is still inspiring so many people and that SOMEONE understands the approach Xavi is taking!” he manages to get a little chuckle out of the man which releases some tension. He continues.

“No seriously, she’s an insanely beautiful and talented person so it really is an honour to hear it from someone of her calibre.” gavi says with a wistful smile on his face, cheeks heating up at the mere thought of you being aware of his existence. The interviewer smirks but keeps things rolling, that footage was going to be golden.

“On a more personal note, thank you for what you’re doing for Barca and the national team. Absolutely phenomenal coming from someone so young and I can’t begin to describe how excited I am to see how things work out for you in the future.” Well that's very different from what he’s used to hearing from older fans. It warms his heart.

“Thanks man, that seriously means so much to hear!” They give each other a bear hug before he walks off, relaxed and confident. But the second he turns around, it all dissipates. There you are, in all your glory. You’re not even doing anything intentionally model-esque, simply looking down and readjusting your dress as you wait for the journalists and camera crew in front of you to have everything set up. It's a moment he feels guilty for intruding on but you smooth down your dress, smiling as you twirl around in it. He’s mesmerised within seconds of seeing you in person, the photos don’t do you justice. At all. 

He can’t hear what you’re saying and doesn’t dare get any closer but the second you start speaking you have everyone’s attention. He can tell whenever someone is complimenting you as your hands move to cover your cheeks as they heat up. He wonders how you feel about the small crowd gathering around you. Did you ever get as nervous as he did? Was this stressful for you too? He’s brought out of his thoughts as the crowd laughs quietly at a comment you made. Oh and she’s funny too? Of course she is!

Much to his disappointment, Julian is dragging him off to another interview before he could even muster up the courage to go and talk to you, with the crowd beginning to disperse. He stills looks back at you, heart pounding as you make eye contact. He sees you offering a little wave before he loses you among the people. Your smile was breath-taking but smiling directly at him was a whole different story. The rest of the interviews couldn’t last any longer, or at least he felt that way. He just wanted to see you again now, nothing else was on his mind. 

That idea was a lot harder in practice, he learned. You’re right there, swirling your sprite can at the drinks bar, looking up and around every now and then. He’s been dawdling for about ten minutes now, “figuring out what to say.” He looks up every once in a while, you’re playing with your dress again and you still look just as mesmerising. Julian has had enough of the situation, pushing Pablo towards you and walking off before the boy could try to hide behind him.

“Oh my gosh, hi! It’s Pablo, right?” good lord you’re somehow even more gorgeous up close and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Have you seen that interview? They posted that one clip very quickly and he’s extremely anxious at the idea of you being spammed with the clip. It’s a shame he hadn’t been paying attention to the posts other than his interview clip. Or listened when he saw you being interviewed.

“That's me!” he says, laughing nervously. 

“I’ve honestly been wanting to meet you for so long!” you say with a bright smile on your face, bouncing up and down on your toes with excitement. You can’t resist giving him a hug and he thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest any time soon. You smell absolutely divine and he’s trying to commit the whole moment to memory. You take his hand and pull him to an area behind all of the giant posters where things are a little quieter.

“I could say the same about you, I mean you’re just…wow!” He’s properly kicking himself. One chance to look cool in front of you and he’s fucked it up.

You’re so caught up in the excitement of talking with Pablo Gavi that you forget the fact that you elicit the very same feelings in him. 

“No, seriously you’re incredible! I usually find defensive tactics more interesting but you are absolutely explosive in midfield! I haven’t seen anyone play quite like that for ages!” you gush. Pablo couldn’t be more grateful that everyone forced him to come here. You liked him! You liked him!

“It's honestly just what I love doing, I suppose the passion builds into the output…” he trails off as you nod enthusiastically, giving him a reassuring smile and eagerly waiting for him to continue. You don’t like eye contact very much but his hazel eyes are truly gorgeous and you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“Hey, enough about me, this is a big day for you! You’re finally getting the recognition you deserve!” he says, gaining a bit of his confidence back and nudging you lightly. You can feel your cheeks heat up. 

“Eh, the me-fest was fun online but holy shit am I tired of it after this!” you laugh together and simultaneously realise that you’re still holding onto each other's hands. It just feels too right to let go.

“Do you hate the noise as much as I do?” you whisper in his ear. He feels a chill run down his spine from your warm breath and goosebumps form immediately. He nods softly, confused and suspicious of the mischievous look in your eyes.

“What’s on your mind, bonita?” he narrows his eyes, squeezing your hands lightly, waiting for you to elaborate.

“There’s a park literally 2 minutes away from here! if we manage to make an escape, we can get away from all the noise, look up at the stars…” you trail off, waiting for his response. He seems to have a permanent smile etched on his face with you but it widens with your idea. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and you begin to weave in and out of the crowd which has begun to disperse a little already. 

The pair of you make it out unscathed, giggling to each other as you look back to make sure you haven’t been caught. He keeps his arm where it is, again it just feels too right. You reach one of the park benches and decide to take your seats. The dim glow of the street lamp above you illuminates your features and he can’t help but stare. Your eyes are focused on the stars, you’re holding out your hand to map out the stars you were familiar with. Your other hand is gripping the bench and he inches his own closer and closer but he has an idea of his own. He doesn’t know how but he’s thankful that his confidence resurfaces once more as he stands up, holding a hand out to you. Your focus returns to him and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“Dance with me” the idea makes you all giddy inside but you can’t help but tease

“Without music?” He sighs in faux-annoyance as he opens his phone to play a soft tune, propping it up on the blazer he opts to take off. He’s a sight for sore eyes in the crisp, white button-up. He offers his hand to you again but you oblige this time. You squeal slightly as he unexpectedly pulls you towards his body, instinctively placing a hand on his chest while his free hand finds a place on the small of your back. His hazel eyes are so much prettier up close. He simply can’t believe that this is happening. You both fall into a rhythm together as you move to the soft melody. 

“I’m a genius.”

“Of many things” he says with a wistful sigh, smiling softly. 

The butterflies in your tummy grow more and more restless as your faces grow closer together. You can feel his warm breath on your face and you can see the little scars that adorn his face. The hand that rested on his chest slides up towards his face to cup his cheek and his eyes flutter to a close for a second as he relishes the warmth. You’re both breathing heavier, almost panting, even though nothing has happened yet. Your eyes are frantically flickering over each other's features, desperately trying to commit even the most minute detail to memory. Your gaze lingers on his pretty pink lips for a second too long and like that: you’re the first to give in. you pull him towards you, finally capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He tenses for a moment, mind completely blanking as he attempts to process what is happening. Just as quickly, he relaxes and pulls you even closer to him, if that were even possible. The taste of your watermelon flavoured lip gloss was borderline addictive and the softness of his lips had you feeling dizzy. You part slowly and reluctantly for breath, your hands stay in each other's hair as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“Promise you’ll call?” you say as the taxi pulls up at your place. You really have no idea just how infatuated he was with you.

“I swear on my life, bonita. I’ll call the second I get home!” he smiles, pulling you in for the final kiss of the night before you open the car door and leave. Before entering your place, you turn around to give him a wave, smiling widely as he waves back. You kick off your heels and flop onto the couch, a wide smile plastered on your face as you recall the events of the night: he, Pablo Gavi, really liked you.

Pablo tries to close the door quietly behind him, finally returning home after going rogue at the premier with you. The lamp in the corner of the living room flickers on, spooking him as he sees Pedri sitting there, wide awake and waiting. 

“Look, I know I should have called about where I was but I swear I know how to handle myself I just-”

“Yeah yeah whatever, I couldn’t care less about that Gavira. You owe me something.” Pablo is stumped, his tired mind can’t wrap around what his friend is trying to get at.

“An apology? I was trying before I got rudely interru-” Pedri turns the laptop around so the screen is facing his best friend. 

Oh god no, this was all much quicker than anticipated. No words can be heard and the camera quality is rather shaky but the faces are obviously you and him. The camera has captured the moment where you drag him to behind the posters to talk privately, your hands resting in his, and they capture the pair of you walking off back into the crowd together in the middle of the escape. 

Pedri gets up, places the laptop on the table and goes to ruffle Pablo’s hair and then shakes him by the shoulders.

“I told you she was into you! I told you! You’re such an idiot I swear!” Gavi rolls his eyes, mouth twitching as he tries to hold off a smile. He doesn’t want to reveal all the details yet but it was a magical night, to say the least.

“C’mon you have to tell me something!” Gavi looks down as a blush dusts his cheeks.

“She said she wants to see me again,” he says, stretching the back of his neck. Pedri wraps him in a tight hug.

“I’m always right, see?” 

“Whatever!” Gavi retorts with a smile, jogging up to his room. He’s itching to call you. Pedri lets him go in peace, oh he’s going to be relentlessly teasing the poor man in the morning.

Once Pablo reaches his room, he quickly unbuttons the shirt, throwing it to the side before falling onto the bed, sighing in relief as the cool and crisp sheets felt like heaven against his burning hot skin. The effect you had on him clearly hasn’t worn off just yet. He opens his phone and immediately goes to call you. A smile immediately makes its way onto his face as he hears your voice.

“Did you make it home safely?”

“As per instruction, bonita.” he thinks he can hear your smile over the line. Oh this was the start of something beautiful.

I’m sorry this has taken so long, lovelies. I have a lot on my plate and have been feeling a little demotivated but I've been feeling a lot better recently so hopefully I can start posting more often again! I hope you enjoy this one xxx

[seanettlles]

get to know me better game!!!

thanks for the tag @threefill !!!!!💜

no i'm not procrastinating work wdym

were you named after anyone?

NOPE tho my parents did say they named me what they did specifically bc they wanted to call me lex 😂 and i'm just like ??????? tf is the fancyass first name for then??? all it does is confuse me, like. when am i supposed to use it?? i usually just assume government or other Super Official Forms, but i tend to overthink it a lot lol. i usually let random phone people call me it tho bc i'm likely not gonna ever talk to them again 😂 and it's not worth the extra hassle of correcting them throughout the call (imo anyway, you do you)

do you have kids?

absolutely not lmao, no hate to anyone who wants or has them but i am like. a barely-functional adult shdjfkgks i do Not feel like i'm ever gonna want or be prepared for that kinda responsibility 😅 more power to parents, you're out here doing an amazing thing tbh

do you use sarcasm a lot?

i am secretly the physical manifestation of both sarcasm and hyperbole on each other's shoulders in a trench coat 👀

(yes. a lot. mostly when speaking tho bc tone is trickier to read through text)

what's the first thing you notice about people?

prolly how they speak - not just how their voice physically sounds but like. how they present themselves through words ig??? like, i Cannot Stand people who have some anecdote for eeeverything 🙃 example, i had to partially train someone at my job and eeeverything i said, he had some remark about, generally relating to himself and how good he was at x thing i was going over bc something something i did this in my arts program, i've used this program since i was 12, i'm destined to join you guys (spoiler: he was not)

what's your eye color?

green!!! sometimes more to the brown or grey side of greens depending on the day

scary movie or happy ending?

happy ending 😭 pls life is scary enough, give me a cute slice of life media

any special talents?

i build pcs!!!!! i love pc tech tho i'm a bit behind the times on all the new releases 😂 didn't have much of a reason to pay attention to the trends during covid bc everything was jacked up in price, but my poor old 1080ti is starting to show its age a bit with some new game releases 🥺🥺🥺 maybe whenever i have income that's not going to garbage school loans or my roof i'll rebuild it

i guess i'm also a p quick study of. mooost things??? i feel like if i wasn't hardcore nerfed by adhd i could do and learn p much anything 😂 clearly god feared me ✌️

what are your hobbies?

drawing (stares at my ipad collecting dust), gaming, reading, hiking/camping, swimming, spending time (irl or otherwise) with frands ;w; i can also play a few instruments but it's been a hot minute for any of them sjdjfkfs i've really been thinking of trying to pick the oboe or bassoon back up tho TwT weird woodwinds my beloveds. i also love a good drink (or many) so going out with friends to breweries is fun :D they made a slight beer snob of me lmao, but i tend to stick to lighter/hoppier ones

have any pets?

i have 2.5 cats!!! winston, cleo, and the .5 is raven, my brother's gf's cat who i'm currently fostering for her until the spring/summer ;w; they're all sweet troublemakers and i adore themmm💜💜💜 they're also all black by absolute coincidence 😂 i keep saying i'm gonna get a different color for my next cat but well. so far that hasn't exactly gone to plan shdkfkfs

what sport do you play/have you played?

uhhhhh i played soccer Very Briefly when i was a kid but that was about it 😂 i was always a marching band girlie 😌✌️

how tall are you?

5'2" on a good day lmao, height is not my family's strong suit

favorite subject at school?

arts and orchestra 💜 i didn't mind sciences too much either, biology and psychology were fun

dream job?

i do not dream of labor in any capacity 😌💜 if i could live comfortably without having to work i would take it in a heartbeat. that said i don't mind my job - i'm able to wfh most of the time and my coworkers are cool folks ;w;

if you read this far, consider yourself tagged by me if you wanna do this!!!!!!!💜

[spellbook-gayboy]

20 with whoever you'd like :)

20.

"Y'know, there are a lot of situations that that phrase can be applied to, dear brother," Ian grumbled, "but one of the very few exceptions is the fact that you only managed to half-cut the rope that's still wrapped around the bloated corpse's neck."

"Okay, that's fair." Rex murmured in response. The corpse in question still dangled limply from its spot on the bare poplar tree, the thick yellow cord that served as a noose digging into swollen and purple flesh. A gentle wind set it in sway, the shiny white footwear attached to its feet occasionally clicking against each other. "Maybe we could find someone to help, or...?" The hero starts, his voice trailing into silence as something dawns upon him. His eyes, from behind the thick goggles, sweep the small backyard they find themselves in. "...where are we? Why are we doing this? This isn't a superhero thing, it's not even a 'Rex and Ian do crimes for fun' thing! Wha- why are we tryna cut down a body?! What the hell is going on?!"

Ian looks his brother over, recognising the expression that was currently stuck to his features. "Honestly, I'd ask the writer. Some of these prompts have been low-effort before, but this?" he declares, throwing his hands up in a display of useless frustration. "Thi-this is just a scene from Disco Elysium! Like a straight rip-off!"

"Disco... Elysium?" Rex questions. The specific combination of words rings empty in his mind, the two nouns sounding almost absurd next to one another. The gears within turn: could he be referring to some obscure police procedural from decades past, or a novel in his house's vast library? Perhaps something more current, like a film that just released in theatres, or even, God forbid, a trending topic on social media? Despite the absurdity, there is a pang of familiarity at the name, scratching at the edges of that pink wet sponge between his ears. He focuses, and focuses, until...

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] - Disco Elysium is a video game, written and designed by the Estonian novelist Robert Kurvitz and a collective of fellow artists, musicians and creators, and is currently published by the games publishing company ZA/UM. It styles itself as a 'detective RPG', and features a distinctive painterly art direction, the brainchild of oil painter Aleksander Rostov. From what you've been able to recollect, there is also an apparent ongoing legal dispute between Kurvitz and shareholders of ZA/UM, and you have been advised several times to not the game legitimately, lest you contribute further to the practices of ZA/UM. The advice seems sound, and you already have the perfect method of pirating it on your games console. You will do it, once your curiosity tips you into morally justified piracy.

"Woah woah woah, stop that!"

I'm sorry?

"You! Yes, you! Listen here, Harry, putting us in a different setting is one thing, but subjecting my little brother to the game mechanics? Oh, you should be thanking your ancestors that I'm a fictional character, or I'd have ripped your fucking balls off by now!"

Okay, first of all, it's the new year, and I'm trying to spice up my writing a little. I'm sorry that being out of your comfort zone scares you, Ian, but you need to understand-

"I don't need to understand shit! Listen, Cape-Watch, the old man, everything up until now, completely fine! It's in-universe, so I don't have a problem with any of it! But this?! What's even the point? A funny reference? A fourth-wall break? Like, at least plan these out first!"

How am I supposed to plan these out? They're meant to be short little snippets where people can point and yell 'there's my little guy!' Nothing more than a little serotonin boost before the weekend. Were you expecting Shakespeare?

"Don't give me that! I've seen you write better than this, Harry! Don't you want to be... I don't know, a great writer? One of the greats of AO3, or whatever?"

Not really. Sometimes I write prose, and sometimes I write pigshit. At the end of the day, as long as I can still write, I'm happy. It's all words to me, Ian.

Ian sighs. He rubs exhaustedly at his brow, already tired of debating his creators' reasons for writing. "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Just take us home so I can wipe my own memory."

Rex was very confused by what he had just heard. "What the fuck."

[labgrownmeat]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @lightpossession to do this thing (thank u :)!!)

1. Are you named after anyone?

I am named after my middle name which was my dad's best friends name but written in a way I decided was more "feminine" ~10(?) years ago

2. When was the last time you cried?

Earlier today thinking about people I care about struggling w/ things. I cry a lot tho generally

3. Do you have kids?

Yes their names are Sigmund and Pan and they are 8 and 10 respectively and they are cats

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I've used it quite a lot in my life sometimes (more oftentimes than I'd like) to my own detriment, and I very consciously have been trying to moderate it for a while.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

I was put in tennis and soccer as a child, each time failing because I'm effete and asthmatic. Then I tried getting into fencing in college and collapsed the first time I tried fencing with the gear on bc lunging in the heat triggered a syncope response and I briefly lost consciousness. Success.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Their voice, tone of voice, and expressions. Physically idk, I kind of have some kind of partial face blindness and forget what people look like frequently so clearly not that. Hair?

7. What’s your eye color?

Blue/green with the little gold ring in the middle

8. Scary endings or happy endings?

I guess it depends on the film/book/etc.? Not a great question.

9. Any special talents?

Guitar style instruments and soul calibur

10. Where were you born?

Oshkosh, Wisconsin

11. What are your hobbies?

Making music I would say is my main "hobby". I guess video games are a hobby? Books? Where does "hobby" end and "obsessive media consumption" begin?

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes their names are Sigmund and Pan and they are 8 and 10 respectively and they are cats.

13. How tall are you?

5′7

14. Favorite subject in school?

K-12, I guess biology, english/literature, any classes I ever took that even vaguely dealt with astronomy. Theatre too, in high school I did sound/light tech and stagework stuff in the theatre program and I really enjoyed doing that.

15. Dream job?

I don't even know anymore. There are some aspects to working in social services I've enjoyed, I like to work with people and help them, maybe a therapist or something. When I was in college I wanted to be a professor for a long time, in history, philosophy, or sociology, but I haven't gone to grad school. I'd still enjoy that but idk if I can see it happening...

I will tag @ghostcurse, @silkwyrm, @jampharos, ..... and i suppose any other mutual that wants to use this as an excuse. i have 25 followers i can't tag almost every single one of my mutuals that would be preposterous

[pad-wubbo]

Your post had something deeply Christian about American culture reminded to me.

Splatoon is rated A (All Ages) in Japan, and 7 in Europe. The only reason it's E10+ rather than E in America is because of Marina daring to show a bit of skin.

Part of why I like Splatoon so much is that it doesn't feel sanitised. For children's media, it is very naughty.

• Big Man's penis is visible as his "legs". Look up "manta ray claspers".

• Jelfonzo wears a t-shirt reading FUCK YOU in Inkling script.

• Marina's joke about "inking their Splat Zone" in the Invisibility vs Flight Splatfest, clearly talking about masturbation.

• Marina's remark about Pearl's digestion and how not even their biggest fans want to hear about it... right?

• Pearl has a song titled "Fucking Dudes Be Fucking Sleeping" (albeit grawlixed out in the game).

• Agent 3 wears a fishhook, which according to the artbook, is for the purpose of sexual attraction.

• The designer of the Octolings says they're supposed to be "sexy", if I recall correctly.

• Callie's crotch tattoos are described in one artbook as "octopus-y tattoos" (octo-pussy tattoos)?

• Frye audibly says "WHAT ZE FUCK?" whenever she's surprised.

• Marina seemingly says "Pussy! Pussy! Suck my fucking pussy!" in "Nasty Majesty".

• Smallfry turns red when fed with Power Eggs, this is in reference to salmonids in real life turning red when sexually aroused.

• Big Man has a leather kink outfit for Grand Festival.

• Several in-game bands have a PARENTAL ADVISORY logo in squid-language on their album covers

There is almost no visible violence in Splatoon whatsoever (getting shot with ink, even it's violence in-universe, isn't discernible as violence to a human eye). I suppose Maws and Megalodontia do eat you, but nothing is actually shown there.

There is no visible alcohol use, either (Flow is implied to be drunk but not explicitly stated to be so).

There is no nudity outside of the manga.

There is no tobacco use whatsoever.

There is no drug use whatsoever (unless you count the Hypno Shades, which aren't an actual drug).

There is no blood whatsoever (unless you count the band name Bloody Hook).

All of the swearing (with voice filters / constructed script) and innuendo is not noticed by the ESRB at all.

This leads me to the conclusion to that the sole reason for the E10+ rating is Marina's outfits.

Like, a fictional octopus-girl's crotch is visible and, partially, her breasts. There is nothing disturbing about this whatsoever.

Like, they could be doing more with that rating in America, but the only thing that gets them the rating is octopus titties.

It shows that the United States of America, and other cultures subject to its informational hegemony, are afraid of the human body itself, or even that resembling it.

Like, you can have themes of human extinction, race wars, depression, drug addiction, loss of self, body horror, poverty, starvation and all that in the game's backstory, and so long it's not graphically portrayed, it's fine at E.

It's up to 10+ when the octopus shows skin.

If your post was written in response to mine about the Great Turf War as a potential setting, I was not doubting that you could portray the Great Turf War at the E10+ rating. Of course you could. I was merely suggesting that such a setting would be incongruous with the series' usual tone.

I would love an M-rated DLC where the game is just as lighthearted as ever, but the idols say "fuck" uncensored.

things you can do with an E10+ ESRB label:

Use of the uncensored words "Ass," "Bitch," and "Shit", with other censored swears allowed

Mild amounts of red blood, with other colours being allowed more (cephalopod blood is blue, no the ink is not blood, if it was, the amount of it shown in game would need a T rating even if its a different colour)

Sexual innuendos/references (Marina's outfits, literally any of them, would not fly in a rated E game, fun fact)

Partial Nudity

Alcohol/tobacco use

Games with an E10+ label:

Portal 2, which has a lot of discussion on how GladOS went crazy and murdered everyone (extreme over simplification)

Minecraft, with lots of killing of animals and people (villagers/pillagers) allowed, but theres no blood so

Shadow the Hedgehog. they killed that kid.

The E10+ label is pretty weird as its one of the lesser used ones, the first game to use the label was donkey kong jungle beat. other games that use it are much more fucked up.

It's kind of odd and feels almost more restrictive than just E, because a lot of the concepts are pretty vague and what counts as "mild" you know.

There's no reason for an entry in a series to have a higher rating, Brawl was set to rated T while all other games were less, but usually the lower the rating the more it sells, though the nintendo demographic is getting older.

The rating also doesnt apply to post launch content, meaning a dlc can be rated separately while not compromising the sales of the base game. Most likely splatoon wont make it out of E10+ still though.

[collymore]

Why on Earth would Meghan ever again want to step into a veritable cesspit called Britain?

By Stanley Collymore  

Another so-called expert and as usual always anonymous; could be the tea lady for all we truly know voicing her personal opinions or actually more likely, obviously sick speculations. How nice! Fully aware, that if it's clearly anything discernibly nasty about Harry but, actually, distinctively Meghan and their children; the racist Karens, along with their quite likeminded Gammons avidly putting aside, the ramifications of their egregiously ongoing, pathetic and biologically too bastard lives will respond expectedly; and accordingly. What sends me though, in justifiable bouts of total derision, at their really undoubtedly quite fatuous antics, is that with so many experts allegedly in Britain our country has invariably all the same nevertheless evidently gone to pot, with not simply the EU but similarly too the vast multitude of very sane individuals across the world basically literally laughing at you rather demented, and deluded cunts happily ensconced and with your impeccable and undoubtedly obsessively monarchical fawning, as unquestionable serfs, subjects and toxic, brownnosing plebeians that you evidently relish, being so much as in your simply disturbed version sickeningly manifestly, of the feudal Middle Ages and quite distinctly never the 21st Century!

What the hell is this puerile cunt of an anonymous and actually cowardly prat talking about? Prince Harry didn't need your permission to walk away and evidently neither does he need it, to ever come back to Britain, which I personally doubt, he wishes to; and the truth is, you and your plethora of whipped up haters, truly know that, but as the prime toxic and demented idiots you are, can't bring yourselves, to effectively acknowledge that your rantings are simply the fantasies, in your very, sick minds. Get real man! Harry and Meghan very realistically truly sensibly, logically, intelligently or in any other really pertinent way give a shit about you and your vile fantasies, are all pathetically, sick creations your vile twisted minds. What is quite clear though is that the Palace flunkies are obviously basically determined still as they have from the outset; to actually and also crucially for them drive a wedge very harmfully between Harry and Meghan totally egged on, by these rightwing extremist, and Nazi media. But it's a losing game, which these inured racist but also, very effectively in clear denial, of their deeply ingrained, racism scum actually can't see!

What intelligent person would ever be inclined to, let alone actually distinctly blame Meghan for literally, sensibly not wanting to basically really reside in Britain? A country, where sick vitriol, of every kind, has be thrown   at her from day one, and exclusively so because Harry didn't essentially marry a purportedly, "English Rose" - the vile equivalent really to very miraculously simply expecting, to amongst all the whores in an established brothel, to effectively find an untouched virgin. The same supposed English roses, of all classes and very well known universally on holiday globally, for so enthusiastically dropping their knickers really avidly, long before they've even distinctly, unpacked their luggage then fatuously and rather hypocritically on returning home afterwards; simply, crazily doing so, as they then board the plane on the homeward journey, with those simply disingenuous and dishonest impressions too, on their smug faces as if butter would not melt in their mouths!

Ring any bells with you lascivious whores? Lol! Frankly and simply unquestionably, white British women are simply categorically known and actually very realistically regarded as the easiest fucks, of all other white Caucasian women, when basically on holiday overseas; really regardless of their age; marital status or none and social standing! Improper behaviour very literally indulged in at home, as well; since these rabid, significantly hypocritical and dishonest trollops, simply can't keep their knickers on. So obviously Harry quite genuinely and reciprocally too, falling in love with a thoroughly, visibly mentally, quite liberated and well educated, distinctively, ethically work-driven African American woman; clearly not a discernibly, very repulsively work shy cum sickeningly, social climbing undeniably obsessively stalking, and a characteristically damnably, most unquestionably too instinctively gold digger Yid trollop like Kate Middleton who even now, bloody well naturally sits on her obviously quite lazy ass and, essentially, can't even be patronizingly that bothered to essentially tell you ignorant fawning assholes distinctively conjoined with the plethora of prized prats, asininely making fucking idiotic and very risibly pathetic, excuses for her; just what's allegedly, her problem; as if shrewd folk, didn't know.

A woman who William married after 10 years of badgering from her - because Kate was keen for the role and he himself, the closet Philip Schofield figure he himself sexually is, under pressure from his grandmother Liz Windsor clearly obligatorily, needed to add to the Firm's necessary heirs and spares so William simply gave in. Now, he fucking-well, can't stand this wife of his, and why fittingly, you the discernibly brainwashed serfs are having, all this actually melodrama crap regarding Kate yet saying nowt, that's concrete about what's simply, a fictitious illness and the genuine ailment effectively is, that Kate's clearly superfluous, to William's actual requirements; in essence she's simply really redundant to him; her Stepford Wife and likewise broodmare activities obviously at an end clearly as his mother Diana was to his father and all these rather puerile, Harry and Meghan stories - a distraction to conceal Waity's inevitability.

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 23 February 2024.

Author's Remarks: So Harry does not get to do something he has not asked to do and clearly does not want to do! I bet he's crushed. Lol. You totally ignorant cunt Richard Eden. As for William, he's as big a buffoon as his clown of a father, Charles. So what is really the point of your arse licking story - since it's quite reliably known that you just love that posterior part of the human body Richard Eden - the receipt of a gong from the heir to the British throne and the equivalent of a simply cowardly Philip Schofield, exactly like yourself Richard Eden. You make up stories about Harry and Meghan, but just for once you might like to enlighten your readers about your Queer/paedo self! Loser! No genuine intelligent person I would imagine cares about your twisted views Richard Eden; so just stay out of other families business and sort out your own!

Harry and Meghan apologize for actually telling the truth? No way; Richard Eden! And William knows it!

There's no logical or realistic reason that Harry and Meghan would offer to return to so-called royal duties which they both of them voluntarily quit! So this crap from you Richard Eden is nothing but dishonest and shit speculation, which your own evidently Queer/paedophile activities aren't! Go sort those out buster!

Enforcedly born British but hardly in the country and then so only specifically at my convenience; for all of you real British, as well as Pogrom and likewise European Holocaust escapers, quite make believe and proselytizing ones, so vaingloriously asserting in your condescension that the entirety of humanity, and especially if they are effectively non- white and specifically Black have one major ambition in mind and that's to come to Britain, live there and be overwhelmingly catered for; simply do ask yourself this obvious question, why would they? To be amongst scum like you? I don't think so!

Until Britain along with the USA and the rest of NATO, started to genocidally as is the white man's custom, barbarously and likewise illegally invade their countries, kill millions of their inhabitants, and similarly turn millions more of their population into both internal and external refugees while pursuant with this white savagery literally outlining their wealth and massive natural resources for the invaders and their own countries benefit; causing these refugees to flee eventually to places like Britain, as they knew full well that although not ever wanted there, they were relatively safe, since Britain and the likes of the USA just weren't or aren't going to bomb the shits out of their own country because these man made refugees were there!

So shut your fucking mouths up, and stop deluding yourselves that these refugees generally want to be in places like Britain because they love you, actually relish your supposed country and distinctly adore living among scum like you! Get a life if you think that for you're fucking wrong as your sort are on most things!  And if Brexit champions like Nigel Farage and Andrew Neil along with others feel it necessary to permanently hold on to their EU passports and citizenship as well as carry on living in the EU along with other British experts who can afford to do so and discernibly take the opportunity to fuck off from cunts like you, that should tell you all you need to know, but you're too dumb to see and analyse real facts are you? As racism and delusional fabrication are jointly your own thing!

So against that backdrop why would Harry but specifically Meghan taking into account your orchestrated racism against her actually under any kind of circumstance whatsoever want to live among you lowlife, toxically verminous scum?

So to return to you again Richard Eden, with Charles Windsor seemingly about to kick the bucket any time soon and a facsimile but cowardly William “Philip Schofield" Windsor effectively about to constitutionally take over from him, what are you really aspiring for Queer boy Richard Eden? To be the Palace and hopefully as well, William's personal equivalent to what Jimmy Savile was to Charles for in excess of 25 years, just like the Bishop Peter Ball, Jeffrey Epstein, Rolf Harris and the several others were, as longstanding chums of all the Royals, and most specifically the very senior ones, or as your sort Richard Eden will now asininely classify as working ones. Paedophiles quite extraordinaire who not only had the full run of Buckingham Palace and in accordance with that all the residential homes of this most dysfunctional Windsor family and their more than willing plethora of Queer, Dyke and paedophile flunkies who still infest these monarchical residences, and are specifically there because that racist bitch Liz Windsor personally torpedoed the UK's Race Relation Act of 1965 because she didn't want any Niggers or other non-whites working in the proximity of herself and her family. An exclusion stipulation that's still in force in 2024. But these 'royals' too love, like the rest of you, to live in their fucking racism state of denial.

So every one of these royal flunkies aren't chosen on merit but their skin colour, racism adherence and their eagerness to supply these key royals with their sexual preferences. A bunch of Queer and Dyke scum who felt quite inviolate until Harry brought Meghan into this monarchical family. And although it's quite apparent to anyone with a functioning brain that Harry and Meghan reciprocally love each other, Liz only publicly gave her assent because she knew she was fucking well dying, wanted Charles to be succeed her as titular Head of the Commonwealth, a position voted on by the actual members and not in the dictate of Britain. But having Charles there, as he is now, allowed Liz and her sort across the UK to delude themselves that Britain is still a global power, which it isn't.  As Liz saw it as the British Empire Mark 2; and she's not the only one. But realistically it's not. It's a voluntary organization of independent states that were formerly British colonies but are independent countries, some of whom are Republic, and likewise, like Mozambique and Angola for example never British colonies but joined the Commonwealth because they're close neighbours of South Africa and Zimbabwe for example.

So Liz only gave her permission to Harry to marry Meghan because she feared that if she didn't she'd be publicly seen as the racist she was, just like her odious mother and estranged husband who she didn't live with for 33 years, Philip and who in spite of the serial adulterous bastard he was died in the arms of his mistress. So while publicly these oaf were giving the dishonest impression Meghan was welcome, privately they were working as they still are with the British media to break that marriage up. For in marrying Meghan and having kids by her, this fucking dysfunctional, serial adulterous and paedophile Windsor family, aka Saxe Coburg gothe Mountbatten was being contaminated with Nigger blood!

It's my honest belief and I speak only for myself as I always do, however well researched my information is or my well trusted sources and others, that had Liz sought to block Harry's marriage to Meghan he would have told her what to do with herself and gone ahead and married Meghan! And what's causing ructions in the UK media is that they know the marriage between William and Kate is over and now effectively a sham. I couldn't give a fuck what's wrong with this Karen racist gold digger, but all this mystery around her so-called operation, is nowt else but a diversion. After all having sanctified this stalking trollop and made her a SAINT, these media cunts and their trolls can't admit they're wrong can they. So carry on bashing Harry and Meghan and hope for the best! Your fucking problem assholes, not mine!

Finally a piece of advice to Richard Eden. All those now lauding you were once massive supporters of Jimmy Savile. And as sure as Hell awaits you Richard Eden, they'll turn on you too. Preferably before then, go have a fatal accident of some kind!

[freebooter4ever]

Nono, you’re right about glasses Geno, but what does he teach?

My pitch would be Soviet art history, his phd is specifically in the soviet sculptural tradition and it’s a long running joke amongst his students that his apartment is probably full of weird-ass replicas and plaster casts of them.

Ahahahaha you must not have seen that old post i found last night - art was apparently geno's least favorite subject. He used to ask his mom to do his painting homework for him, poor boy. (go watch the gifs its cute, a decade ago but he smiles at getting away with cheating in the exact same way he did when he made the cartoon joke this season)

No, if this is gonna be my silly little fantasy where geno is still in pittsburgh but as some adorable bashful professor and more accessible than a famous hockey player, he's gotta be in a field more accessible. I was never cool enough for the art department, there was a reason i was an artist/computer scientist doing computer science research instead of art research.

Ridiculous fantasy under the cut cause this month has been horrible and who doesnt need escapism :P

Lets put him in the math department, he's good at poker right? Or literature. One of those nerds who likes logic puzzles, like for fun. The kind that enjoys supposing something is fact, and then following the logic train of how the world's dominos would change if this one (wrong) thing is actually true. That'd stick math professor geno's office somewhere in baker hall, which is warm (like 90 degrees ALL YEAR), and strangely soft (well worn), but somewhat industrial (carnegie built all these buildings with the steel industry in mind), he'd fit right in.

Also it's shared with the chemistry department, and the chemical engineering students installed a soda machine in the hallway of basement B. And its famous because it's the cheapest place for caffeine on campus (being run by students they sold the cans close to at cost) and connected to like four other buildings by indoor bridges so you can get your soda fix even during the winter. Before a doctor told me i had to quit caffeine or else have a stroke, i was frequently walking over to buy cherry cola, like a cigarette break only more sugary.

So we have to have a meet cute in this little fantasy and what better vehicle than chitchat over a soda machine. Geno's supposedly shy, right? So i imagine professor geno is even worse, like professors dont talk to media unless they actively want to go viral and become famous and geno strikes me as the type who'd instead be quietly brilliant. Anyway, im shy too, so obviously it's gonna take at least two years of accidental run-ins before there's even a conversation. Like the first year i'd probably learn the hot mystery professor's schedule and time my soda machine visits to coincide with his. The second year i'd probably find out his name from a friend of a friend of a friend who took his class back in undergrad. By the third year we might exchange four whole sentences and it'd be the highlight of my life.

Speaking of classes, geno's gotta be that professor with tons of quirks. Costumes every halloween, a teaching style that is very serious but somehow the funniest in the department, everybody has nicknames from him, all the women in his classes are in love with him and give him other nicknames and tease each other about him behind his back. His office hours are always full, which he's a little bit sad about because if nobody shows up he has an excuse to play video games on his computer for a few hours. He's always stopped in the hallways because everybody recognizes him - current and old students alike - and wants to chat or ask questions related to life or homework. You can hear his voice coming from a mile away, so he's easy to find and socialize with. By the same token when he's in a bad mood, everybody knows it.

Professor geno would also be unfailingly kind - the one who remembers what its like to be perpetually exhausted, hungry, and broke as a student, so he sometimes orders pizza and has it sent to the whiteboard study areas in wean.

I dont think math professor geno would live in an apartment, that's a little boring. He'd probably live with his good buddy who's a famous hockey player and understands that adjunct professors get paid shit until you get your phd and then, god willing, tenure, so doesn't charge him any rent. This version of sid doesnt live in excluseive rich people town but instead has one of those stately mansions in shadyside. And its a college town so sometimes when they go out people recognize geno from class more often than they recognize sid and sid secretly thrives off this.

At some point after maybe four years of soda machine conversation, i'd get up the courage to ask professor geno if i could draw his portrait. Maybe he'd also help me come up with ideas for new animals and creatures to sculpt for my research gallery.

Lmao look what you did anon, you got me writing self insert fic for the first time in over a decade 🤣

[randomshyperson]

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary:  The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: (+18), smut, sexual themes, strap on use, teasing, fingering, sexual suggestions, explicit language, explicit, obscenity, a bit of praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, bottom reader mostly, switch dynamics, power dynamic changes, slight possessive sex, brief angst, alcohol mentions, arguing, jealously, fluffy.

Words: 7.935 K

A/N> Instead of writing my series, I'm continuing works that were finished already. This is basically porn honestly haha No, but jokes aside, we have fluffy moments with a lot of smut. Good reading everyone!

Part One | Part Two | All Works Masterlist || AO3

//-//-/////-///-//

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III

Northern Ireland, two years ago.

You slipped under the long wooden table as the script indicated.

Your character was supposed to give a slight nod, and then gasp because of the torso injury, and you followed the script perfectly.

When the director yells cut, you stand up, trying not to bump into the makeover they did on your clothes.

"That was great, guys!" Shouted Alex Graves in the direction of the cast scattered around the medieval set. "Let's call it a day."

You were exhausted.

The Game of Thrones footage was absolutely grueling, and time-consuming, although it allowed you to learn something new with almost every scene.

Walking back toward the dressing room to clean up your makeup, you smiled shyly at the girls in the salon who congratulated you on the day's performance while helping you to remove your costume.

While they were going through your hair, you decided to check your cell phone.

There were two missed calls from Lizzie, and you felt your heart swell with guilt immediately.

She had also sent you messages asking if everything was okay, or if you were busy, and saying that she missed you, and you wish you had answered them all, but your routine had been completely absurd.

You felt your chest ache with longing every time you thought of your girlfriend.

When you signed the contract, you knew the conditions, and so did Lizzie. But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Almost three months without a decent conversation, not even video calls, and the lack of her in your life was making you frustrated and irritated all the time. You were sinking into the screenplay and the recordings, because you simply hated not having Lizzie in your day-to-day life.

"Thank you girls." You said as soon as you noticed the makeup completely removed from your abdomen.

The change in the script killed your character sooner than expected, and you should go home early, even though it was going to take two or three months, it was much less than originally planned.

Grumbling softly, you went back to the dressing room, deciding to call Lizzie now that you would have a little time alone.

She doesn't answer until the second-to-last ring.

"Yes?" Her husky voice signals that she was asleep, but all you can feel is your body shaking at the sound.

"It's me, baby." You reply tenderly as you sit back in the armchair, pressing the cell phone to your ear as if you wish you could reach into the device and touch your girl.

"Oh, hey." She comments sleepily, and you wonder if she has closed her eyes again, or even opened them. "It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry." You say leaning back in the armchair. "I wanted to check that everything was okay because I couldn't answer you earlier."

"Don't worry, darling." She says softly, almost sleepily. "I just missed you."

"Me too, my love." You assure her, feeling your chest tighten slightly. My god, you just want to see her, hold her, touch her. "Lizzie, darling, are you asleep?"

"Yes." She whispers, making you smile.

"I love you baby." You say. "Call me when you wake up, I will interrupt as many scenes as it takes to talk to you."

"Behave yourself in the studio, love." She mumbles sleepily, and you laugh lightly. It was the same warning she gave on your last day in California, on the way out of the airport. "I love you. And I miss you."

You cursed the entire movie company at once when you could perceive the upset in Lizzie's tone, even in her sleepy state. You repeated that you loved her one more time before hanging up the phone.

As you put your cell phone away to grab your keys and head back to the hotel, you wondered if a breach of contract was really so bad.

//-//

Present, California.

You felt Lizzie's arms wrap around you as soon as you made mention of getting out of bed. You smiled, turning your body to look at her.

Her sleeping figure with her eyes closed, her hair slightly tousled made your heart warm with affection.

You loved her so much.

Raising your hand to her face, you stroked her cheek gently with your thumb, and watched the woman sigh softly, and even in her sleepy state, lean into your touch.

"Lizzie." You called softly, trying to wake her up. And did so again until she mumbled softly, leaning her face against the pillow. You let your hand wander to her hair, enjoying the softness as you stroked her scalp with your fingers. "We need to wake up baby."

Lizzie just mumbled again against the pillow cotton, making you smile at the cuteness of that scene.

You moved closer only to deposit short kisses across her face, and only stopped when she let out a husky giggle.

"Good morning, love." You whispered against her ear, and were about to pull away, but she tightened her arms around your waist, keeping you almost on top of her, making you smile.

"Good morning." She sighed back against the skin of your neck, and you blushed slightly when you felt her inhale your perfume and then tighten her fingers around your waist. "Fuck, I love you."

You laughed softly at her sudden, hoarse confession, but let your arms slip around her shoulders, burying your body against Lizzie's. The tenderness was wonderful, and she moved one hand up to caress your back while the other remained on your hip, her thumb moving across the skin beneath your blouse.

You tilt your face away just to look at her, and already you find her with her eyes wide open, a shy smile on her lips.

"I love you too, babe, but we need to get up." You tell her, and you almost get the impression that she's not even listening, because all she does is look at your face with adoration.

You bite back a smile as you feel her legs move beneath you, her bare foot caressing your ankle before she spins you around quickly and stands over you, the sudden movement making you sigh and tighten your arms intertwined around her neck.

"Lizzie!" You exclaim humorously, but all you get is a low murmur as she sinks her body against yours and buries her face in your neck.

"How much time do we have?" She asks against your skin, her lips dangling on that sensitive part of your collarbone and sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

"Enough." You reply already affected by her touch, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.

Lizzie smiles against your neck, beginning to deposit chaste kisses against your skin, making you sigh softly.

It didn't matter how many times you had been together or for how long, your body reacted to her in the same way. You only hoped that you wouldn't be late for your appointment with the Marvel directors, but when Lizzie slipped her hand up into your pajamas, you didn't care about that anymore.

//-//-//

London, 1 year and 9 months ago.

It's your third time on "The Graham Norton Show."

You finished taping Game of Thrones the day before, and this was your last appointment before returning to California. To Lizzie.

Part of the cast is sitting next to you, and you are glad for that because you are distracted this evening and can use the time they answer questions to think about your girlfriend. And you miss her for sure.

Graham, the host, asked questions about the final season, and about day to day life on set, and after Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke commented on everything being amazing, and not telling anything about the plot since they weren't allowed to, you were slightly surprised that the subject shift went directly to the romance rumors between the cast.

"I hear that some of you have been becoming close friends outside the set." Graham begins with a chuckle, and you and the cast share a chorus of dissatisfaction that makes the audience laugh. "Which is normal in a long series of course. But we wanted to bring that in because we love gossip."

"Since I'm married, can I have a drink in the dressing room?" Kit jokes, drawing laughter from everyone.

"You're supposed to help us with the arguments". Graham replies humorously. He leans back in his chair slightly to point to the monitor behind him. "We have some behind-the-scenes photos here. And Miss Clarke looks very comfortable."

The audience laughed at the comment, and you tried to cover it up with an awkward laugh. It was a picture of Emilia Clarke, your colleague who plays Daenerys Targaryen, on your lap. But the moment was badly misinterpreted. The photo was taken right after one of the prom rehearsal scenes, and Emilia had gotten one of the coordinations wrong, and you laughed when she fell on you.

Of course, this kind of insinuation was happening because to the media, you two were two single women. And you were used to this kind of questioning, but still, it was always uncomfortable.

"We were dancing, Graham." Emilia argues humorously. "It's not what it looks like."

The audience lets out a chorus of disappointment, and you and Emilia giggle awkwardly.

"Was that the mating dance, ladies?" Graham teases and you want to dig a hole in the ground, but all you do is keep up with everyone's laughter. "Despite all the jokes, I think Marvel's couple is going to be threatened."

The comment makes your heart race, but the audience is very approving, applauding heartily.

At least with this you can talk about Elizabeth.

"Is tonight the night you are going to take over America's dream relationship or can we just keep saying that you and Emilia are together, since there is not the slightest chance that someone that attractive is single." Graham tells you with humor making the audience and cast laugh. You try to keep up, not wanting to seem rude. You wish you could tell him that there is nothing wrong with being single, but you don't think you want to create an awkwardness so you just settle back in your seat as you joke:

"Unfortunately I will deny it again, Graham" You reply. "And I'm not dating Emilia either, I assure you."

You spend the rest of the evening dodging the comments, and are exhausted by the time the interview is over.

"Hey, are you going back to the hotel already?" Kit asks you just as you walk back to the dressing rooms, and you deny it with your head.

"No chance, I'm leaving." You reply. "I'm going straight to the airport, I have a flight in two hours. What about you, Harington? Aren't you going home to see your wife?"

"I didn't know we were talking about wives." He jokes making you blush and look away. Kit didn't know about Lizzie, but he knew you had someone. "Of course I want to come home, but I still have some appointments here. And Rose is in Spain."

"That sucks, man." You comment and he murmurs in agreement, shrugging.

"Yeah, but longing sure makes the sex better." He retorts with amusement and you grimace before laughing.

"You're unbelievable." You joke before waving yourself off in farewell, turning in the direction of your dressing room.

As soon as you enter, you take your cell phone out of your pocket and try to call Lizzie, but it goes to voicemail. You leave a message saying that you can't wait to see her and get your things ready to leave.

After saying goodbye to the cast again, and taking a taxi to the airport, you receive a message, but it is not from Lizzie.

*Sara evil agent* sent you an attachment.

You frown at the matter. "Off-screen romance? Would GOT star Emilia Clarke be dating queer Marvel protégé?"

You call Sara the same minute.

"I literally said I wasn't dating her!" You complain as soon as she answers and hear Sara laugh on the other end.

"Oh, honey, I told you, the media loves a little gossip." She says. "And you need to stop setting up fake girlfriends so quickly, I can barely keep up."

You grumble in irritation and your agent lets out a giggle.

"Don't be so grumpy, it's just a rumor and the last time I checked you were a single woman so I don't see a problem." She says and you bite the inside of your cheek. Since your lack of excitement about GOT, Sara suspects something. Neither of you says anything, but you know she's not an idiot and figures you have a girlfriend. "Are you going back to LA already?"

"Yes, I'm catching my flight in an hour."

"I hope you're ready to record, Lady Vision." She jokes. "Your scene schedule is getting closer."

"I plan to rest this week." You warn, slightly distracted. "Game of Thrones really was something different."

"I just hope people like the ending."

You giggle and Sara wants to know why, but you don't give her any spoilers. After asking if everything was okay, and assuring her that you had eaten something before the interview, you hang up.

Lizzie didn't text you back and you fell asleep on the plane.

//-//-//-//-//

California, three years and eleven months ago.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.

But Lizzie's hand in yours was doing a good job of calming you down.

Maybe it was just because you had waited, or maybe it was because you were so much in love, but you don't remember feeling so nervous about the idea of having sex with someone. Not since your first time.

And well, now with Lizzie, it was actually only the first time you two were going to sleep together. You didn't have to be nervous, but you were.

Liz opened the bedroom door as soon as you two reached the room, and dragged you inside with her. You closed the wood as you entered.

The tension was palpable in the air, and you wondered if you stayed still long enough, she might hear your heartbeat.

You looked at her, your eyes locked on each other, and a shy smile on your lips as you approached, stopping inches from her body.

Lizzie holds her breath.

"Are you nervous?" You ask in a husky voice, raising your free hand to go around the length of her arm with your finger, admiring the way her skin shivers at your touch.

She just shakes her head and you smile, resting your hand on her cheek.

"It's just me." You comment as you lean your forehead against hers, and you both close your eyes in anticipation. "We can stop if you're not sure..."

"I'm sure." She interrupts half breathlessly, her hand tightening its grip before letting go of yours, so that she brings both hands to the sides of your neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You assure before breaking the distance, bringing your mouths together in a firm kiss that draws a sigh from both of you as your hands move up to Lizzie's waist.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, your tongues fighting together and the sensation making your head spin and your body heat up.

Lizzie gasped against your mouth before parting for breath, and you used the opportunity to let your fingers run down to the hem of her shirt as you pulled it up. In motion the piece was off, and she copied the same to remove your blouse.

You bit your lip as you looked at the sight of Lizzie's exposed torso in front of you, her nipples hardening in the air making you feel the tightness beneath your stomach increase.

You lunged forward, grabbing her left breast with your mouth, and Lizzie let out a loud noise in her throat, throwing her head back as your tongue skirted her left nipple.

She was so hot and smelled so good, and the sounds she was making were driving you insane.

You moved your hands up to her breasts as soon as you brought your mouths together again, your tongue circling hers as you played with her hardened nipples, and it wasn't long before Lizzie began to whimper, closing her legs and thrusting her hips towards yours for more friction.

You smiled against her lips, you would give her exactly what she needed.

//-//

California, one year and nine months ago.

Leaving your keys on the counter, you were surprised by the silence as you entered.

It wasn't that you wanted Lizzie to stay late to wait for you, except that it was exactly what you wanted.

You left your bag on the living room floor and called her name twice before assuming she was asleep.

Sighing slightly, you went up the stairs to your room, but it was empty. All the other rooms were empty, which made you frown.

Okay, you didn't expect Elizabeth not to be home just the day you were returning, after months of not seeing each other.

But you didn't have much time to think about what might have happened, because a clearly drunk Lizzie stumbled into the house, fighting against the lock and her own balance just as you were coming down the stairs.

"You're drunk?" You ask in a voice in a mixed tone of disbelief and concern upon seeing her, and Lizzie is startled for a moment before giggling.

"Look who's here, California!" She announced to the room with irony and with open arms, stumbling inside. "Hollywood's most eligible bachelorette, watch out ladies and gentlemen."

You frowned at the little scene, Lizzie walked with difficulty to the kitchen as you finished going down the steps, she murmured quietly and you with your arms crossed, trying to understand exactly what was going on.

"What happened to you?" you ask as you follow her across the room, Lizzie takes off her shoes with difficulty, almost falling to the floor at least twice. When you make mention of helping her, she holds up her hand for you not to, and you are starting to get worried.

"I went to have fun." She replies with a humorless laugh. "I can have fun."

"Of course you can." You retorted with a raised eyebrow, watching Lizzie take a deep breath and close her eyes as she leaned her back on the countertop, probably getting a headache from the way she buried her face in both hands for a moment. "Who did you go with?"

"I don't know, Mom." She sneered wryly, and you clenched your jaw. Lizzie laughed at your expression, and pouted. "Oh, did I upset you? Sorry, darling, I'll try to be a good girl for you."

You shook your head slightly.

"Babe, what is happ..."

"Don't call me that." She cuts off quickly and you look at her in surprise. Lizzie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she looks at you again, she has thick tears in her eyes and you feel your heart soar. "I saw the pictures on television, Y/N. I saw the pictures, I saw your interview, I saw the videos on instagram. And I guess I understand, because she's beautiful and we haven't seen each other in months but I thought you loved me..."

"wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt, confused and frightened, and Lizzie looks like a complete mess. She is crying and you reach up to touch her face, and try to calm her down. "Babe, breathe, I don't understand."

She whimpers softly, and you wonder how much booze she really has consumed.

"You are going out with that woman and I love you and everything is horrible." She declares in a whiny voice and you look at her with a frown.

"Lizzie, what..."

But she pushes you and walks off toward the bedroom, and you try to keep her from falling over drinking at least three times until she can get up the stairs properly.

"Lizzie, wait, talk to me." You beg but she keeps walking and you enter the bedroom a moment after her, watching her walk to the closet and start throwing all her clothes out while mumbling about cheating.

You take a deep breath with your hands on your waist, letting out a humorless laugh. It was an absurd scene to say the least.

"Elizabeth Olsen, stop this immediately!" You command as soon as she steps out of the closet, and she widens her eyes slightly as she shifts the weight of her feet before veering to the floor. You sigh as you walk toward her. "Babe, look at me."

"No."

"Lizzie."

Reluctantly, she does so. You soften your expression, feeling your heart soar at the image of her face, longing invading your whole heart.

"God, I missed you." You confess half breathlessly and Lizzie looks on the verge of tears. "Darling, where did all this come from? I'm not seeing any other girl."

"I saw the pictures..."

"Lizzie." You interrupt seriously, shaking your head slightly as your hands land on her shoulders. "I have no one but you. I would never cheat on you, I don't know where that came from. I wish you hadn't drunk so much so we could have a serious talk."

Lizzie gives a mischievous little smile, her gaze half lost because of the alcohol.

"I'm not drunk." She mumbles clearly intoxicated, making you chuckle slightly.

"Of course not." You said as you pushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. "You made a mess in the bedroom, babe. Why don't you try to sleep while I clean up?"

Lizzie sighed, clearly tired but shaking her head in denial

"I don't want to sleep." She said as she brought her body closer to you, her hands squeezing your shirt. "I want you to fuck me."

You bit back a smile, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah?"

She murmured in agreement, her fingers trying to open the buttons of your shirt, but she was clearly in no condition to do so.

"I'd like that too, but you're drunk." You say as you move your hands to hold hers, smiling at the grumble of frustration she lets out. "Go lie down, I'll get some water."

"But..."

"Bed, Lizzie." You ordered again as you intertwined your hands to lead her to lie down.

She was reluctant a few times but eventually agreed and lay her down on the mattress, placing the comforter on top.

When you made mention of getting up, she held your hand.

"Don't go." She asked softly with her eyes almost closed. You smiled.

"Aren't you thirsty?"

Lizzie denied and pulled your hand, you moved closer to lie beside her and she wasted no time in entwining her body in yours.

You let your fingers run through her hair and she sighed lightly, not taking long to fall asleep. You waited a few more minutes before moving, getting out of bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her.

After collecting the clothes Lizzie had thrown across the room and putting them away in the closet, as well as putting the party clothes she was wearing in the wash, you went back downstairs, looking for your bag to take to your room.

Your cell phone vibrated as you walked up the stairs.

It was a message from Scarlet, and you laughed lightly as you read its content.

“I heard you're coming home today, right? Lizzie was really upset about the rumors that you were dating, and asked me to take her out for a drink. I dropped her off at home, but she was pretty shaky. I didn't know you two had a thing, can we talk about it over coffee tomorrow?”

You were relieved that Scarlett was the person accompanying Lizzie, but now she knew you two had something. You were tired of it honestly. The secret. All you wanted was for everyone to know how much you loved Lizzie. And judging from recent events, that was a problem for her too. Or at least it was enough for her to drink more than she should.

But you would have to wait until Lizzie woke up to have this conversation, so you went back to your room, and after putting away the clothes from your bag, you took a shower and put on your pajamas, wasting no time in joining Lizzie in bed again.

//-//-//

Caribbean, one year and six months ago.

Following the music, you continued to dance slowly, your hand around Lizzie's waist while the other was entwined in the air with hers.

The luxury hotel where you were staying that week was hosting a Hawaiian themed evening, and well, after spending the day in the pool area, you decided to dance a little.

In that moment, with Lizzie in your arms, you were at peace completely. Moments like these, like waking up with her in your bed, or cooking together, or rehearsing your lines while curled up on the couch under the blanket were more than enough to make you sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lizzie.

You smiled before pulling your body away slightly, just to look at her. And she looked back at you with the same adoration, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You spun her into your arms then, making her laugh as you pulled her back, your hands resting on her neck as your hips swayed to the rhythm of the ukulele of the band playing on the stage.

There were a few other couples around, but you could hardly notice anyone but Lizzie.

You continued dancing, and you rested your forehead on hers, closing your eyes and breathing in her perfume. Lizzie smiled, stealing a quick kiss before resting her chin on your shoulder, following the rhythm of the dance.

When the show ends, you follow the crowd in the clapping for a moment before Lizzie entwines your hands and pulls you toward the bar.

"That was fun." She comments with cheeks flushed from the dance, her smile soft as you stand near each other, your hands intertwined as you reach for the menu.

"Dancing with you always is." You retorted charmingly, releasing her hand only to fit it against your waist, drawing a chuckle from Lizzie.

You ended up sharing some drinks and snacks, and you were starting to feel higher with each sip.

Lizzie was in the middle of a joke when you interrupted her.

"Marry me?"

She blinked in surprise, a confused chuckle escaping her lips.

"What?"

Maybe it was the drinking. Probably not, because with the emerald eyes looking so intently, you suddenly felt very sober. Your heart raced too, but you were never more sure of anything than you were now.

"Marry me." You repeat with a confident smile. Lizzie blushes with wide eyes.

"You... Are you serious?" She asks in surprise, and you let out a sigh, moving closer to take her hands and put them down on your racing heart.

"I love you." You tell her with nothing but sincerity. "I want to spend my life with you. I was planning something bigger, perhaps, at your parents' summer house. I would get down on one knee in front of your family and hand over the ring I've been carrying for three months." You confess and watch her look at you in shock. "I've been waiting for the right moment, Lizzie. But I've just realized that every second with you is the right moment. I want you to be my wife. Do you want me to be yours?"

It took a second for her to react, her expression changing from shock to pure happiness, the tears appearing in her eyes and the smile so big it made her eyes small.

"Yes, yes, of course." She replied between one shy laugh and another, moving forward to kiss you over and over again.

You couldn't stop smiling as you kissed her, and you giggled against each other's mouths, pulling apart to embrace each other.

It didn't take long for the people around the bar to notice and start clapping, but you didn't care.

All you were seeing was your future wife.

//-//-//-//

California, 1 year and 9 months ago.

You finished putting the coffee jug on the tray, the last missing item, before carrying it to your room, taking careful steps not to trip over anything on the way.

Lizzie was already awake, but still in bed. The glass of water in her hands and the missing pill on her bedside table indicated that she was already treating her hangover.

"Good morning, darling." You greeted as you entered, walking over to the bed to leave the platter on top of the sheet next to Lizzie.

"You're home." She commented in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, you just made a noise with your mouth as she sighed, running her hand over her face, probably because of her headache. "When did you get home?"

"Last night." You respond by watching her. "Just before you."

"Sorry." She says moving closer. You gently pull away from her attempt to kiss her lips, and Lizzie frowns. "What?"

"I was worried." You state seriously. Lizzie lets out a sigh, leaning her back against the bed completely. "I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, but you didn't call. And then I find the house empty. Until you arrived, completely drunk at dawn."

Lizzie crossed her arms, looking away. It was your turn to sigh.

"What's happening, Elizabeth?"

"It 's nothing."

"Elizabeth."

"Stop it." She asks impatiently, turning her face to you again. "Don't call me that."

You just frown in confusion. "It's your name."

"No." She exclaims annoyedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You only call me Elizabeth when you're angry. And you can't be angry at me because I have the right to go out!"

You watch her stand up, as if running away from the conversation, and you sigh impatiently, massaging your temple with your finger. Lizzie begins to remove her dress, clearly intent on going to take a shower.

"I never said you had no right to go out, Elizabeth." You retort ignoring the annoyed grunt she lets out at you continuing to call her by her full name. "I just think I have the right to ask why after we agreed on something, you changed plans at the last minute and decided to disappear."

"It's funny that you want to demand something from me when you've spent the last few months without giving me any satisfaction of where or who you were with!" She accuses angrily and you grimace in indignation.

"Oh, so it's about my work?" You retort angrily. "The last time I checked we had decided that I was going to record and come home. You said you were fine with that!"

Lizzie gave a humorless laugh, her dress falling to her feet as she worked to remove her bra.

"Well, you know what, I wasn't!" She shouts angrily, throwing the bra angrily into the closet. You need to remember that you are angry with her as you have the vision of her breasts exposed in front of you while she is yelling at you. "I didn't agree to the endless get-togethers with all those sluts around you! And I sure didn't agree with your flushed face on television flirting with Emilia Clarke in front of the whole country!"

You stared at Lizzie in shock, but she just grunted in irritation before turning to go to the bathroom.

"No, I think it's so funny you bring that up, you know, Elizabeth." You spoke aloud as you stood up to follow her. "Because when I said Aubrey Plaza was flirting with you, you told me it was just business. But suddenly, Emilia is something that bothers you!"

"God, this is so different from Aubrey!" she retorts in irritation, finally naked, before stepping into the shower. You were beginning to find it hard to remember why you were fighting now that you had the view of her wet silhouette in the shower stall, as she raised her voice to be heard beyond the sound of the water. "We were supposed to be flirting in the interviews, it was all for the movie. You were just falling all over Emilia for no reason. All those smiles and giggles." She declares angrily, making you bite back a smile. Lizzie naked, angry and jealous was hot as hell.

"I really can't believe we are having this conversation." You complain as you unbutton your pajama shirt. "The most absurd part of it all is you thinking I would have anything with anyone else."

"You say these things but don't live up to them with your actions." She retorts, annoyed. "I wouldn't think anything of it if you didn't flirt with other people!"

"I didn't flirt with anyone!" You return defensively, your blouse finally coming off. Lizzie's annoyed expression almost falters, but she keeps her gaze above your breasts as you take off your pants. "And honestly, none of this would be happening if everyone knew we were dating!"

Lizzie frowns, her anger finally dissipating with your sentence. You step into the shower stall with her, and she looks at you dubiously.

"You...you want to go public?" She asks, studying you as the water falls on her back. You swallow dryly, keeping yourself in front of her.

"Only if you want to."

Lizzie holds out her hand for you to take, and when you do, she pulls you gently until your breasts are almost touching.

"Do you think we're ready for that?" She whispers as your foreheads lean against each other. You sigh as you rest your hands on her waist.

"With you, I'm ready for anything, Lizzie."

She sighs against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck.

"I can't think about that with you naked in front of me." She mumbles before moving forward against his lips.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

You slide your tongue over hers a moment later, and you both sigh in need, feeling the effects of so much time apart. Your hands move down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing her against you, and the direct contact of exposed skin makes Lizzie whimper.

You press her against the glass of the shower stall, feeling the shower water against your back as you hold your mouths together in a passionate, hungry kiss.

When air was needed, you ran your kisses down your girlfriend's exposed collarbone, enjoying the way she sighed in anticipation, her hand moving up to the back of your neck to encourage you.

"God, I missed you." You sighed before sucking on the sensitive spot on her collarbone, making Lizzie whimper as she dug her nails into your shoulder.

She pulled your face back to hers, kissing you urgently, and you pressed your body against hers, your hands moving down to her thighs and up so that she entwined her legs around your waist.

The contact of your exposed intimates together made you both gasp in the kiss, but you slid your tongue against hers again, savoring her taste as your hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them with a full palm, your fingers playing with her hardened nipples and making Lizzie sigh wetly.

"What is it baby?" you teased when she was unable to keep up the pace of the kiss, throwing her head back as she felt your hands pressing her breasts hard, and Lizzie grunted as she bit her lips to keep from moaning, looking up at you with dark eyes, clearly struggling to keep her expression impassive. You smiled, pressing your hips forward and watching her close her eyes tightly, unable to contain a low moan that escaped her throat. "I want to hear you, baby."

"I'm still mad at you." She declares in an affected voice, and you murmur in understanding, lowering your face to her collarbone, and licking and kissing the skin, making her shiver.

"Is this angry sex, then?" You sneer as you move your hips forward again, the sensation bringing a rising wave of pleasure to both of you. "It doesn't seem like it."

Lizzie sighs impatiently, and puts her legs on the floor, pushing you away by your shoulder.

You are so stunned by the sudden break in contact that you barely have time to absorb her turning off the shower before she pulls you by the hand out of the stall.

You were about to ask what she was going to do, but she pushed you onto the bed, and disappeared into the closet.

"Lizzie?" You called out uncertainty, preparing your apology speech for what exactly you couldn't say. But she walked out next, and the sight made your mouth go dry. "Damn."

Elizabeth was wearing a strap-on, the rubber penis already fitted in the front and ready for use. And from the determined expression on her face, she was more than willing to prove to you that she was pissed.

"Fuck me." You breathed aroused by the view, and Lizzie gave a wry chuckle as she approached the bed.

"Oh, I will." It was her only warning before she broke the distance, kissing you fervently, her tongue exploring your mouth and pulling the air from your lungs, making you see stars.

You let out a low moan, moving your hands up to her waist to pull her to you, but Lizzie pushed your hands away, breaking the kiss and moving one hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly as she made you look at her.

"Knees, ass up." She commanded in a husky voice, her gaze glittering with lust, you bit your lips to keep from moaning again, feeling your pussy pulsate with desire as you obeyed, turning on the bed quickly as Lizzie positioned herself behind you. "I'll teach you not to flirt with other girls."

"I was n-fuck." Your speech turned into an horsy whimper as she suddenly penetrated you with the dildo, you were so wet that she had no problem at all, the toy slipping into your folds with ease, filling you completely. Lizzie chuckled breathlessly, her hands steadying your hips.

"God, you're so hot." She murmured, moving slowly inside you, the action making you clench your fists in the sheets and arch your back, your pussy clenching against the dildo.

"Fuck, Lizzie."

She thrust again, this time hard, her hands squeezing your hips as she went deep inside, making you moan loudly.

Before establishing a rhythm, she leaned against you, her hand coming up to your hair and pulling you back as she brought her mouth to your ear.

"You are mine." She whispered before she thrust hard inside you, making you moan. "Do you understand?"

"Not quite yet, try harder." You teased breathlessly, the pleasure at having the dildo all the way inside you making you half dizzy. Lizzie grunted angrily, this time stroking even harder, making you see stars as you whimpered, your body beginning to tremble.

"Quit being a brat or I'm going to fucking stop." She warned against your ear, thrusting more slowly this time, and you moaned breathlessly, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Lizzie set a slow pace, but thrusting hard as you moaned and whimpered, every time the dildo entered you making you even wetter and aroused, to the point that you were unable to hold back the loud moans, and she giggled.

"Look at you, a horny, begging mess." She sneered against your ear. "You are mine, and only mine."

She whispered, her strokes deep inside you. "I want you to remember that when you flirt with other girls. How good I make you feel."

You whimpered, your pussy clenching against the dildo for more, Lizzie keeping the strokes torturously slow. Seeing your state, she laughed softly, pulling out of you completely.

Before you had time to complain, she turned you over on the bed, spreading your legs as she bent down, thrusting deep inside you. Your moan died against her lips as she kissed you hard, laying against you as she buried the dildo inside you.

You could feel Lizzie everywhere. Her breasts against you, her lips on yours, and it was too much. She thrust hard again, deep and fast as you had your legs around her waist, and her tongue on yours, and you began to tremble in spasms, pleasure spreading throughout your body.

Lizzie smiled against your lips as you lost the ability to respond to the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the closeness of your climax. Her mouth moved down to your neck as she kept up the pace of the thrusts inside you, and your hands tightened around her waist, pulling on her hips for more friction.

It wasn't long before you fell over the edge, the tightness under your belly exploding, the pleasure spreading to the tips of your feet as you moaned against Lizzie's ear, crumbling under her.

As you tried to normalize your breathing after such an intense orgasm, she straightened to look at you, her eyes had adoration in them.

"You did so good." She praised against your lips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"I did." You replied in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to control the effects of climax.

In one swift motion, you spun you two around on the bed, sighing as you felt the toy move inside you.

"Now you will learn to honor your appointments, Miss Olsen." You warned as your hands moved down to the latches of the strap, removing it as Lizzie bit her lips, looking at you with a mischievous gaze.

You shifted to remove the strap and toss the toy on the floor, returning to sit on Lizzie's lap, your mouth returning to hers immediately.

When she began to move beneath you, you smiled against her lips, pulling away as you rested your forehead against hers and let your fingers play with her wet entrance.

"Use your mouth." She asked breathlessly, her nails digging into your arm.

"My baby wants my mouth?" You teased, moving forward to lick her lips and pulling away with a short laugh when she moaned as she chased your mouth unsuccessfully. You circled her clitoris with your fingers, and Lizzie gasped. "The next time you want to get drunk, at least text me, my love." You warned as you penetrated her with two fingers at once, feeling her hot and slippery, while Lizzie moaned loudly against your mouth. "Do you understand?"

You removed your fingers, playing with her entrance until she nodded frantically, pushing her hips toward your hand. But you laughed lightly, pulling your hand away completely, and leaving her with a confused expression.

"I thought you wanted my mouth." You scoff, already ducking, as Lizzie looks at you expectantly.

"God, you always fuck me so good." Lizzie comments as you kiss her thighs, moving down. You smile against her skin, finally reaching her pussy.

You stare at her before moving forward, your tongue against her clitoris as she sighs with need.

"Don't torture me." She begs breathlessly, her wrists locked on the bed, you smile, lingeringly licking her, and she closes her eyes tightly.

"I won't, my love." You assure her before returning your mouth to her pussy, kissing her entrance before you begin to suck and lick, devouring her with desire.

She moans loudly, letting out affected sighs with each movement of your tongue inside her, and you hold her thighs to keep her open for you as you eat her out.

It doesn't take long for Lizzie to reach her edge, already near the limit from fucking you, but it's still delicious to have her crumbling against your mouth like a weeping mess, her orgasm on your tongue as she screams your name.

You climb your body back up onto her, and kiss her tenderly, unlike anything so far.

Lizzie is trying to control her breathing from the climax, but sighs in satisfaction as she tastes herself on your tongue.

As silence falls over you, you sigh lightly, your hands caressing her face.

"Are we okay, Lizzie?" You ask as you settle down to lie across from each other. She leans into the touch of your hands, as her hands come up to your waist.

"I don't know." She confesses. "But I want us to be."

You smile, using your finger to take a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"Do you think going public will make us better?"

"I don't want to love you in secret anymore." She says and you feel your heart soar. "Do you understand?"

You smile. "Yes, babe. I feel the same way."

She gives a relieved smile, her gaze passionate. You break the distance, and kiss her gently.

When you break the kiss a moment later, you look quickly at your bodies. "I think we should have this conversation with clothes on." You comment and Lizzie giggles.

"Later. Now I show how much I missed you in my bed." She says before bringing your lips together again.

You certainly wouldn't object to that.

//-//-//

Atlanta, three years ago.

You hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant.

Through the window you could see Lizzie, and all your cast mates, as it was the closing celebration of the WandaVision filming.

You swallowed hard, the object in your pocket suddenly becoming too heavy.

You startled slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I guess we're both late, huh?" Kathryn Hahn, your cast mate, remarked gently, putting her car keys away in her pocket clearly having arrived right with you.

You gave her a lopsided smile and she noticed your hesitation, assuming a worried expression.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

You shifted your gaze to the window again, watching Lizzie giggle shyly, her gaze shining slightly. She looked around too, searching, and you knew it was for you.

"Yeah, I just...I was just having a moment of doubt." You say still looking at Lizzie. Kathryn followed your gaze, and smiled, but didn't comment on it.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the object.

"Wow, are you going to...?" Kathryn asked in surprise but you gave a humorless laugh.

"No, I couldn't." You say swallowing dryly, and looking away from the velvet box. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"And when either of us are?" Kat returned, making you smile.

"How did you know you were going to say yes to your husband?" You asked next. Kathryn sighed thoughtfully.

"I didn't." She replied. "There's no way to know until you get asked. But what I did know was that I loved him. And that's what really matters."

You absorbed her words in silence, and then put the box back in your pocket.

"I think she loves me." You say. "That will be enough until I find the right moment."

Kat murmurs in understanding, and then pushes her shoulder against yours lightly.

"Just don't wait too long." She warns with a smile, nodding her head signaling for the two of you to enter the restaurant and join the rest of the team.

When you enter, any thoughts of Lizzie denying your marriage proposal are driven out by the image of her contented smile when she sees you arrive.

//-//-//-//

A/F/N> I'm not even gonna try to say this is the last time i'm continuing this work because at this point, I just know I don't believe my own words anymore haha. Tell me what you think people.

Tag> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

[layercake]

Why Naoto is Heavily Trans Coded, and How The Discussion Surrounding Him Needs to Change

Hello, I’ve never written or posted anything like this before LOL so this is a bit daunting. But this subject is something that’s been bothering me for a long time, and I wanted to get it out somewhere. So let’s talk about how Naoto Shirogane is heavily trans coded, and how the fandom has a problematic culture surrounding the issue that really needs to change.

Tw // discussion of misogyny , transphobia , and mentions of harassment

Initial Shadow Confrontation 

Since the discussion is most often about what’s “canon” and what’s not, let’s first take a look at what the game actually does give us about Naoto’s character. During the confrontation with Naoto’s shadow, we learn that Naoto idolized detectives as a kid, and wanted to be one himself when he was older.

However, this posed a problem for him in multiple ways. One, he was (is) still a child, and the people in his field don’t take him seriously because of it. He tries desperately to escape this fact, to try and act as mature as possible, but ultimately he can’t change how others will perceive him at his age.

This is what the shadow confrontation focuses on most heavily. But then it switches to discussing the other part of the issue-- the fact that Naoto’s ideal image of a detective is a man, and he “isn’t.” 

At the end, Yukiko says “You must know already that what you yearn for isn’t to become an adult or to become a boy,” and Naoto accepts it. This is what most people point to when saying that Naoto can’t be trans, because he agrees that it wasn’t what he wished for. So, easy, right? If you take this as him telling the truth, then it looks like an open and shut case-- he isn’t trans. But Naoto’s actions don’t really fit what he says here. 

The issue starts with these next lines (below) in particular. To me, Naoto’s tone in the first line is regretful, and doesn’t strike me as a sentiment someone who is cisgender would necessarily hold. Why would he want to “change into a man?” To fit his ideal image of a detective? As he says here, yes.

(Real quick before I continue, it’s not clear in the dialogue screenshot but it’s important to note that Naoto does say “yes” to Yukiko’s question about him not liking being a girl. He nods his head)

The narrative that the game tries to go with after this is that the “ideal image” Naoto wanted to live up to, including the male aspect of it, was unattainable and formed primarily because he felt that was the only way he could be a detective. 

But, is this really that much of a problem? We all look up to certain types of people, people that we want to be like-- and for many, this can factor into gender identity as well. If Naoto really just wanted to be a cool, male detective, that doesn’t at all negate that being trans would be a part of that for him. 

Naoto’s other words and actions, as well as the framing of this scene as a whole, make the scenario feel a lot less believable to me for multiple reasons. Naoto never initiates the conversation that him wanting to be a boy is incorrect-- Yukiko does. Naoto isn’t even the one to trigger his shadow-- Kanji does that. Naoto had a lot less agency in a lot of these decisions than the other characters did with their shadows. 

Naoto’s Continued Actions

The fragility of the narrative Atlus put together for Naoto continues to grow throughout the rest of the game, due to the way he behaves after the initial shadow confrontation.

For starters, it’s implied that Naoto is not his birth name, something that i think a lot of people either miss or forget about-- and yet he continues to go by it throughout the course of the game. We never find out his deadname and he never expresses a desire to share it with anybody.

The day after the “reveal,” Naoto doesn’t change anything about his appearance, mannerisms, or how he presents himself. He honestly seems uncomfortable with the fact that everyone has found out, in a way that felt much like being outed to the whole school, as opposed to finally being seen and accepted for who you “really” are.

I understand that such a drastic shift in people’s perception of you would be overwhelming to anybody, no matter if you were cis or not. But if Atlus really wanted to hone in on the idea that Naoto was happy about this change, they could’ve at least made him…. Well, happy about it. Even if it was just a small smile, just a tiny indication of relief even despite how hard it will be to adjust, it would’ve made it at least a little more believable that this is what he really wanted.

But that’s not the case. Instead, he’s uncomfortable, he still binds, he still wears the school’s male uniform, and he still goes by Naoto. The only time any of this actually changes is if you as the protagonist push him to, which… is a whole other mess.

The fact that Naoto has even gotten to this point, though, speaks more volumes to me than anything else. Passing is not easy. Coming out is not easy. Naoto would have had to go through difficult lengths in order to get not only his school, but the country and media to see him as a man.  He’s a well-known "detective prince".. someone was bound to look up his records and find out about it. That's a huge risk to take.

In addition to this, he binds. He goes by masculine pronouns and a masculine name. He very audibly changes his voice to be more masculine. I don’t know how to tell you this, but this is just…. not something cis people do? At least not comfortably. 

In fact, doing all of this would have been incredibly uncomfortable for Naoto if he was cis. As someone who experiences dysphoria, looking like and being seen as a gender you are not can be really, really painful. If transitioning was something he really didn’t want, why would he put himself through all of that? Was it really to escape misogyny? Me asking this isn’t minimizing the issue at all, because I understand that it’s incredibly serious and hard for countless women. But I would generally think someone’s first reaction to facing misogyny isn’t to… completely change their identity and present as a different gender.

On top of being probably the hardest option of escaping misogyny available to him, and one of the most uncomfortable, presenting as a man doesn’t necessarily get rid of any prejudices Naoto may face. In fact, I would argue that it’s considerably more dangerous. Especially in a rural town like Inaba, where people seem to not really understand or approve of being LGBT. Naoto is smart, he would have thought of all of this. So why?

Inherent Transphobia of Naoto’s Arc 

There is something to be said about how much misogyny is present in Japan’s workforce, especially in fields like Naoto’s, and the importance there is in discussing that. The base idea behind his struggles and message isn’t inherently a bad one, but the way the game went about it was problematic because it put down transgender identities in the process.

The first time I watched Naoto’s shadow confrontation, it was really distressing to me. The game continuously repeats the idea that you can’t “cross the barrier of the sexes,” that Naoto “can never really be a man,” and  that “you can change your name, but you can never change who you “really” are.” I hope I don’t need to explain why this is a problem.

Naoto’s wish to be a man, regardless of what was driving it, is depicted as something temporary and childish. Something that Naoto “didn’t really want,”  something that was just an excuse to run away from the misogyny he was facing. Even if it was unintentional, this message is incredibly harmful to transgender people.

It would have been a better and much more coherent message about misogyny if the writers had steered clear of trans themes entirely. In fact, I think they did so well with Sae’s character in Persona 5-- she’s in the same field of work, facing very similar struggles, but she doesn’t react in the same way as Naoto at all. 

Kanji and Homophobia 

It’s even worse that Naoto’s “reveal,” on top of being problematic by itself, is used as a method to bury Kanji’s exploration of his own sexuality. The problems with Kanji’s own shadow are bad enough to warrant their own long rant, but the reveal that Naoto was “really a girl” this whole time allows the story to completely wave off his gayness for good.

This isn’t something unique to this game-- the trope of “two boys fall in love, but one of them turns out to be a girl so it’s fine” has been used numerous times in other media to explore the topic half-assedly. It plays with the “exoticness” or “drama” of a gay romance, but backs off at the end in order to uphold societal norms and prevent backlash. 

This doesn’t really give any kind of good commentary on gay relationships, nor does it depict them in a positive or helpful manner. It isn’t something that these games should be getting kudos for doing. 

Misogyny?

I think there’s also something to be said about how poignantly bad Atlus is at really tackling the problem of misogyny. It tries, especially with characters like Ann and Sae, and in certain aspects it can succeed. But then they have scenes like the pageant and Every Beach Scene Ever, where the women are forced to wear swimsuits or revealing clothing against their will, or their bodies are talked about without their consent. There is consistently a character in each persona game who is forced to do the whole misogynistic dipshit gimmick that’s supposed to be funny-- Junpei, Yosuke, Teddie, Morgana, Ryuji-- and while this is obviously not a Persona specific problem by a longshot, it’s still indicative of how unsuccessful these games often are in delivering the message that society’s systemic misogyny is an issue.

This is something I think about a lot when people try and argue that Naoto’s story can’t be about him being trans because it’s “an important message about misogyny.” Atlus often doesn’t deliver on such stories already, and they certainly didn’t with Naoto. As soon as Naoto returns to “living as a woman” he’s subjected to the same misogyny that the other girls are. His chest is commented on, he’s forced to be in the beauty pageant, he’s made uncomfortable in the bath scenes-- really, all Atlus did after the reveal was make the problem worse for him. 

On top of this, his story never actually meaningfully tackles the problem of misogyny in the detective force. It’s not a major part of his social link or the general plot of the game-- honestly, it’s barely even touched on at all after the initial confrontation. Thus, the idea that “Naoto can’t be trans because it erases a story about misogyny” is just plain untrue. There never was a coherent one in the first place.

Problems Within the Fandom

Despite all of this, there is such an intense backlash from the majority of the fandom if anybody dares to bring up these issues with Naoto’s story. Naoto being trans is generally seen as something ridiculous and stupid, or something to insult and mock people for.

I understand that there's always going to be people who say provocative stuff like this, no matter what anyone does, and that it’s not something exclusive to this particular fandom or character. But the problem is that this rhetoric isn't just from them anymore--the consensus among so much of the fandom seems to be either that Naoto absolutely cannot be trans, or that speaking about it at all is "annoying discourse" and taboo. Even from fans that are LGBT or allies themselves. 

This in and of itself is such a telling thing to me. if you find yourself getting angry about the subject, really ask yourself why. Is it such a problem for people to reclaim a transphobic story? Is it such a problem for a character to be trans in the first place?  There is room for discussion and nuance regarding this situation, but we have to make it for ourselves. We can accept that Atlus’s base game will never actually give us a coherent story about either misogyny nor being transgender with Naoto’s story. But petty arguments and insults thrown at people who bring up this topic isn’t any of that-- it’s just poorly masked transphobia. 

So at the end of the day, no, Naoto being is trans is not “canon.” Of course Naoto would not actually be allowed to be trans, he is a main character in a game series where the only explicitly LGBT characters have been consistently buried, stereotyped, or demonized with only a few rare exceptions.

Yes, you’re allowed to headcanon whatever you want about him. I can’t stop you from wanting a story about misogyny, or from seeing Naoto’s gender as something more fluid than I do. But you can’t ignore the fact that his story, as written in canon, is laden with transphobia despite its intentions. It’s not a ridiculous or harmful thing for trans people to want to reclaim that.

There are still a lot more issues with how Naoto is treated in the game-- especially in his romance route-- but that’s a whole other can of worms I’m not ready to unpack today lol

Hopefully all of this made sense though, and feel free to bring up anything else I may have missed or point out any issues you might have with it :-) Thanks for reading!

[egg-emperor]

I literally love watching you talk about eggman so what's your favorite headcanon for him? :)

Thank you so much! I always have so much fun talking about him here and I'm really happy that you like to see it! :'D

It's difficult to pick just one when I have an endless amount involving every aspect of himself and his life! It's easier to decide on a favorite theme, such as the way I enjoy making hcs about his personal life and what he gets up to behind the scenes. I really wish we got to see more in official media so I'm constantly coming up with ideas.

But I suppose I could take this opportunity to discuss one of my many favorites!

I love to imagine that Eggman is always delighted to talk about his interests. He's most enthusiastic about engaging in conversations about him and/or his interests lol. Tons of true love and enthusiasm show through the way he expresses his deepest passions, the most notable being robots and theme parks as his biggest interests. They go way back to when he was a child but he never got the chance to talk about them nearly as much as he'd like to.

His father never had the time, just like he never had much time for him in general. He at least got to do something he was interested in alongside him when he'd help out with his mechanic side work and learn from him as a teenager, but his father would say he needed to focus instead of talking. And he never had the time to listen to him talk about his favorite interests in robots and theme parks but Ivo knew it was because he didn't care. He could never find anyone else willing to listen either.

He's always been an attention seeker from the moment he discovered how admirable and important his grandfather was and wanted to be like him, so his father isn't solely to blame for why he demands all the attention, importance, and spotlight. But it certainly further influenced his already existing desire to get the attention he craves and also intensified his great urge to talk about his interests and accomplishments. So he jumps at every small chance he gets now, whether people actually ask or not.

With his 300 IQ, he can be a fast learner on any subject, even when it comes to things he doesn't really care for. But it seems there's a part of his brain that's seriously dedicated to storing all the knowledge of his favorite subjects and he goes out of his way to learn absolutely everything about them. His knowledge in robots and theme parks especially are endless and always growing, and he loves to talk about his very own creations on top of that. He never runs out of information to share!

This was also one of the things that initially made him interested in getting a teaching degree. It was more about showing off his knowledge, rather than caring trying to help others learn. Also because he loves telling people what to do, of course. XD

He enjoys sharing his knowledge and correcting people when they're wrong. He'll often butt into conversations about subjects he's interested in (well even ones that he isn't but especially when he is) to share thoughts and facts. Some find it rude but it's a case where he doesn't realize because he just wants the right information to be acknowledged and to correct misconceptions. He also likes to bring his related experiences and creations into the conversation so they know his sources, and because he wants to show off and make them jealous and impressed!

Some get annoyed while others find it impressive or even helpful. But the negative reactions don't matter to him because he's delighted when someone will listen to his endless rambling and let him boast, giving him full attention and no complaints. It's even better if they're enthusiastic, supportive, and praise him for his knowledge! If someone encourages him to keep going, he'll actually appreciate it but definitely won't know how to say it. Still, they can tell by the way he lights up and explains it with a big beautiful smile on his face that he can't hide!

Basically, I like to imagine that he's just as passionate when talking about his brilliance and the things he loves as I am when I'm talking about him! He still has that same child-like wonder when learning new information about the things he's interested in and excitement when he shares facts and stories and shows off his discoveries, creations, and accomplishments. They're the feelings he didn't really get to express freely as a child and it feels great to finally get to do something that he wanted all along.

I love men that are really passionate and unashamed to be, especially when it shows through the way they're extremely knowledgeable about their favorite subjects and eager to talk about it. One of the many things that make Eggman so attractive to me is how bold, passionate, and unapologetically himself he is! It's really admirable and inspiring too. And I'd be sure to let him know that and encourage him to express his love for his passions and support him in following his dreams related to them.

I could listen to all he has to say and observe all he has to show off for hours! Then I'd ask questions to give him the opportunity to talk and show off even more as he answers and elaborates even further. Once he gets going, he just can't stop talking until he wears himself out and needs a nap. XD I'm genuinely interested as we have fascinations in common and it's even better when I'm learning from him. There's no better, more handsome source of interesting and valuable information heheh!

But the best part is getting to see how happy he is as he lights up, jumps for joy, and shakes his fists in excitement. He shares his plans with great confidence and presents his creations with pride. The excitement can be heard in his voice and there's a bright wide smile on his gorgeous face all the while. I would watch with total adoration as it warms my heart! I wish he could feel that kind of happiness much more often. I'd always make sure he feels deeply loved, cared for, and listened to. :') 💜

While it is canon that he's a deeply passionate person as there's evidently a lot of hard work and care put into his plans/creations and determination put into his goals, this is how I headcanon him feeling about expressing it outside of what we see in the games.

I imagine that he'd love to passionately monologue to someone that isn't just programmed to care like his robots. He can ramble to Orbot and Cubot about his upcoming plans but they always talk back and he knows they're often judging, so it pleases him when he knows someone's interest is genuine.

And his urge to talk about what he's excited and proud of is probably part of why he often says too much and reveals important details of his plans to his enemies! It might happen less often if he has someone to lend an ear, so he can tell them all about it beforehand. I'd love to be the one there for him! :D 💜💕💘💖💗💜💓💗

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[macaronnya]

Fresh(?) Impressions (3)

Other parts: |Trickstar| |UNDEAD| |2wink| |Ra*bits| |Akatsuki| |fine| |Ryuseitai| |Knights| |Valkyrie| |Switch| |MaM/Double Face/Crazy:B| |Eden| |Alkaloid|

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Hello Enstarries~☆ Another part is here with our small unit 2wink! It's kinda weird not to have so much to say except I'm trying to organise and structure my handful of posts better here.

DISCLAIMER!: Everything said here is for entertainment purposes only and not meant to attack anyone. This is not an accurate description of any characters but my subjective rambling for fun, so please don't take it too seriously. (Just to be safe, I'm kinda scared of elite idol fans) Also, you will hear me mention other games a bunch of times bc I'm that bad and uncreative at explaining and I'm still grieving A3!EN's shutdown. Eng is my 2nd (or 3rd?) language so yeah have mercy.

Without further ado..Let's Ensemble!☆

Who came up with that name? No really, how? I guess it's meant to be "T(w)o wink" but it's pronounced like "twink" and naturally, a japanese person would have no idea of western slang. Besides the funny name, I don't have too much to say about them. It was a surprise to find out that the twins have the same VA even though it's very clear. It just didn't seem like an option to me bc in other media, even twins have different VAs. Barely listen to their songs, they just don't seem that intruiging. The 2 that I have listened to in the game are OK. Although...LEMON SQUASH CHEERS was pretty good. Their outfits are also nice, I suppose. Not entirely sure what theme they're going for, though. Athletic technowear (idk names...). A more unique approach I think. Something about tve whole 2 in 1 package gives me the hunch that there might come a story part, where it deals with their indivdual identity or smth in that way (if it wasn'r already covered in the "!" era). And obligatory Hiitachin twins (OHSHC) mention here ofc.

5/10 - average, no strong opinions

Hinata Aoi

Neonpink twin nr.1, technically the older one? Not that it matters much for twins. He seems cheekier and more outgoing and initiative than his brother. He also feels more responsible to lead the both of them, probably bc of that older brother label? I'm still struggling to tell them apart from each other but I think his voice is more energetic. I was surprised to see that they can actually express tears in the game.

5/10 - 🌗 :D

Yuta Aoi

Neonblue twin nr.2, technically the younger one. He's still energetic but more lowkey, which is evident even in his voice, I think? He really appreciates his brother doing the more annyoing stuff of talking to others but also doesn't want to keep relying on him. Cute how he imitates his bother just because. Has a lot of hobbies apparently.

5/10 - 🌓 :P

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Conclusion

Well, it was as short as I expected. I haven't seen a lot of them so it's hard for me to make any more opinions. Sorry for any 2wink-Ps out there.

Feel free to comment anything and share your thoughts as well, as long as you keep in mind that everything's just for fun and games! See you next time~☆

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline. 

Previous

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria. 

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.” 

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.” 

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?” 

“They’re wonderful.” 

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.” 

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?” 

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.” 

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered. 

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?” 

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.” 

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.” 

“I don’t have one,” she laughed. 

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.” 

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser. 

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.” 

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.” 

“I do as well.” 

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that. 

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs. 

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce. 

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked. 

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it. 

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.” 

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment. 

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him. 

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.” 

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?” 

“When the time is right.” 

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.” 

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?” 

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.” 

“Who says I-.” 

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building.  The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third. 

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach. 

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel. 

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned. 

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game. 

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice. 

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture. 

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on. 

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain. 

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone. 

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.” 

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief. 

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond. 

“LOOK AT ME!” 

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth. 

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!” 

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth. 

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization. 

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer. 

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.” 

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.” 

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured. 

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.” 

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.” 

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.” 

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.” 

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.” 

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything. 

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter. 

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight. 

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor.  Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink. 

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?” 

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.” 

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could. 

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.” 

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.” 

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him.  “What’s the point of doing this again?”  

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.” 

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful. 

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives. 

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.” 

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them. 

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever. 

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad. 

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce. 

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside. 

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly. 

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.” 

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach. 

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.” 

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then  turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.” 

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as  my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit. 

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.” 

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.  

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.” 

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?” 

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.” 

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off. 

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.” 

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?” 

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.” 

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.” 

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?” 

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?” 

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.” 

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud. 

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?” 

“It was alright.” 

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.” 

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?” 

“Not yet. I’m planning to.” 

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!” 

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek. 

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling. 

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.” 

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said. 

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted. 

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in. 

“By all means,” Demetria motioned. 

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria  noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.” 

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.” 

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?” 

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.” 

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing. 

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?” 

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.” 

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low 

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?” 

“Bruce-.” 

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth. 

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there. 

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table. 

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it. 

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat. 

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop. 

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there. 

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend 

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there. 

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop. 

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen. 

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria. 

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed. 

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention. 

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.” 

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.” 

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?” 

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice. 

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker. 

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria. 

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her. 

She watched from behind his shoulder. 

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd. 

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them. 

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.” 

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.” 

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel. 

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered. 

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted. 

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd. 

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.” 

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully. 

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.” 

She whimpered, closing her eyes. 

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!” 

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.” 

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars. 

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!” 

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream.  She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor. 

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.” 

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...” 

“You’re going to be alright.” 

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred. 

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate. 

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker. 

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps. 

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!” 

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly. 

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.” 

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on. 

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress: 

Hair/Makeup:

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.7

Hi everyone! I hope you are all having a wonderful day! I was excited writing this chapter and I hope you all love it! I think at this point I’m half way through the serious with the different events I have in my head to take place! Thank you for all the kind words and reblogs! You have no idea the smile it puts on my face! Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 

You almost did a spit take when the Avs’ media department told you their plan for that Saturday’s home opener. “You know that is in three days, right?” you asked to clarify you heard correctly.

           “Yes we do. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal though, you already know the routine,” one of the men spoke up. You looked at him like he had grown an extra head.

           “I’ve skated at least five different routines after it. You can’t expect me to remember that one specifically,” you argued. “Also, fans are coming here for a hockey game, not a figure skating event.” The media department was asking you to perform your long program that you skated for the Olympics during the second intermission.

“It would be a fun way to introduce you to the fan base though. Show everyone that we have an Olympic champion as a coach,” you stared at the girl who told you this. They were all smiling at you, but you were starting to feel like a side show.

           “I just want to be treated like one of the team, one of the coaches. I don’t want to be a side show,” you tried to reason with them.

           “You aren’t. Just this once. It is the home opener after all, everyone will be excited and we’ve had requests on our social media to see you skate.” The man said again, but this time looked disinterested in anything else you wanted to argue. How was skating your performance in a sparkly, little dress going to earn you respect as a coach? The media team looked at you expectantly.

           “Just this once please. I’d rather have the focus on the team and blend into the background myself,” you conceded. A few of them nodded, but you weren’t so sure you were being heard. You had this problem more frequently than you would like. Being of smaller stature with a softer voice, you weren’t always taken as seriously as you would like to be. Leaving the meeting, you walked back over to the ice and put your skates back on. The team had a light practice that afternoon after playing two back to back games, you being pulled aside after practice.  

           Back on the ice, you looked up your routine on Youtube. No one could really blame you for forgetting parts of your routine; you still competed after the Olympics and did have to memorize new ones. Playing the music over the loud speaker you started to mark your program, slowly remembering where your spins and jumps were placed. The footwork was what would be tripping you up. You closed your eyes and tried to remember as best you could, until you skated backward into a wall. Or what you thought was a wall but ended up being Nate, his hands on your waist to steady you. “Dang MacKinnon, you are a fridge,” you laughed as he let go of you. Nate’s cheeks became a little red as he chuckled.

           “Why do you look so stressed?” he asked you. You looked down quickly, not realizing that you had a look on your face.

           “It’s nothing,” you tried to smile. You knew the home opener game was on everyone’s nerves. They wanted to play well and win, and did not need you panicking for a different reason. “Why are you still here?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

           “I was waiting for you outside, but you never came out after media took you off for whatever they needed. I just thought I would come find you,” he said quietly, trying to gauge your mood still. “Why is your music playing?” You let out a laugh.

           “You actually know this is my music?” you asked, starting to skate backward away from him. Nate followed, starting to see you were avoiding his questions but also wanting an answer.

           “Coach showed us your routine when he told us you would be our skating coach,” he explained.

           “You have a good memory,” you commented, stopping the music once you reached your phone. Nate rolled his eyes and took your phone out of your hands. “Hey!” you yelped, trying to take it back from him. He looked at the video and back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Media asked me to perform my routine between the 2nd and 3rd period. The only thing is that I’ve kind of forgotten my footwork for it because I’ve had other routines after it. Plus I’m not entirely comfortable performing it at a hockey game that I’m supposed to be a coach at.” You explained in a huff, turning in circles as you explained because you couldn’t exactly stand still.

           “Why did they ask you to do that?” Nate asked, reaching out and grabbing your hand to get you to stop spinning. You shrugged, looking down at your hands and playing with his fingers.

           “They said to introduce me to the fan base.” Nate nodded and looked at your phone.

           “Well what do you need help with?” he asked. You looked up at him and relaxed a bit under his gaze.

           “You don’t have to stay. I’m sure your tired,” you said, but he shook his head.

           “Either you tell me what I can help you with, or I will keep your phone so you can’t practice at all.” Nate gave you a straight face. You rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

           “Tell me if the footwork matches up?” you asked swiveling away from him, and Nate smiled softly at you.

           “You got it Coach.”

~ ~ ~

           The feeling at the Pepsi Center was electric. The fans were excited and it made the arena come to life in a way that a figure skating event never had. At your competitions, people sat patiently in their seats for their favorite skater to take the ice, clapping politely for the others. Here at the game the fans were up and yelling, being as noisy as they could. You tried to focus on the team, but your performance was in the back of your mind. Was this really a crowd who wanted to watch a skating routine. You were standing behind Kadri at the moment, half way through the second period. The score was tied 1-1, and you could feel the tension radiating off the team.  With about five minutes left, the other team called a time out and a woman from media appeared on the other side of the glass, motioning for you to go with her. Bednar saw her too, and nodded toward you. “Break a leg kid,” he said as you walked past him. Nate was on the ice and skated over to the box opening, offering you his arm before you stepped onto the ice. As you reached out for him, you remembered what you wanted to say during the time out.

           “Oh! Cale, try to go to the outside. They keep stopping you when you turn in,” you said and he nodded.

           “Good luck,” Nate whispered as you let go of his arm when you got back on the none-slip surface off the ice. You sent him a small smile. As you were changing, you heard the goal buzzard go off and the crowd cheering. You hoped that meant it was one of your boys. Looking in the mirror after you changed, a huge smile lit up your face. You hadn’t worn this dress since the Olympics, and you loved the way it made you feel. It started off white at the top, and faded into (Y/Fav/Color). The whole dress was bedazzled with Swarovski crystals the same color as the material of the dress. The sleeves were sheer netting, bedazzled as well, with an open back. You put on your three-tier crystal choker that you wore for every competition since you were 8. Not one to have a lot of superstitions, your choker was the one thing that would devastate you to skate without since you had it for so long. You had worn your hair into a bun for the game and just had to fix your make up. You did not want to show up with competition make up to the game. Lacing up your skates, you walked out and started to warm up your jumps in the tunnel. Once the ice was clean, you were able to skate out and warm up quickly. No attention was draw to you, though being the only one on the ice drew it to you anyways. After warming up your jumps and a spin, you skated back off to wait for your introduction. Taking off your jacket, you jumped slightly as someone took it from you.

           “Didn’t think you could perform without us Coach, did you?” Tyson asked. You turned around and saw the team walking back down the tunnel toward you, most with their helmets and gloves off. The guys piled onto the bench, along with the other coaches. It made you relax slightly having familiar faces. Nate sat on the edge closest to you and gave you a reassuring smile.      

           “You got this,” he said in a low tone so that only you heard. You nodded, smiling brighter as you heard your name over the speaker. You skated out to center ice, elegantly striking your beginning pose. The music started, and everything around you faded as it always did when you performed. You felt like you were flying when you jumped, and couldn’t help a little excited toe step when you landed your last triple axle of the routine. Also, it did not help that you heard the guys cheering you on, so you knew you were doing something right. The last note of your music played, and you jumped out of your scratch spin to your backward bend, effectively ending your movement and routine. The stadium lit up in applause, whether they were just being polite or not you didn’t know, neither did you really care. You didn’t realize how much you missed performing until now. Smiling, you bowed and waved at the crowd. As you started to head back toward the Avs, a chant of “Coach” started to sound. You laughed and went down the line high fiving them. The ice was set to be cleaned once more, the holes your toe picks made being filled in quickly as there was about five minutes left of intermission. You were bouncing with adrenaline, and Tyson had to practically throw your jacket in your face for you to pay any attention to him. Walking off the ice with the team, you all of a sudden remembered the buzzard that went off while you were getting ready. You turned to Gabe who was next you.

           “Who scored?” you asked eagerly. Gabe smiled his charming smile at you.

           “Makar. It was your call Coach,” he said. You bounced excitedly and shoved Cale when you saw him. Nate was watching you the whole time, amused at your bubbliness.

           The game went on, with the Avs scoring 3 more times, making the score 5-1 when the final buzzard sounded. You were standing on the bench when it happened, and Nate picked you up slightly to put you back on the ground before you tumbled off the bench in your excitement. He had remembered what you said about being clumsy if you didn’t have your skates on. Once the team was in the locker room, you grabbed your bag and your dress and changed. Nate had mentioned that everyone would be going out after the game and that you should go with them. Then when Mel facetimed you to pick out an outfit, you really couldn’t say no. Plus Nate said he would pick you up so you didn’t have to worry about driving that evening. Though you suggested it should be the other way around since he was the one playing in said game, he insisted. After letting down your hair from its bun, you changed into a pair of skinny jeans, a top that just barley hit the top of your jeans, heeled boots and a jacket, and walked back toward the locker room where the families and guests of players were starting to gather. Before you could even question where you should go, a familiar blonde grabbed your attention. “You were beautiful!” Mel squealed, pulling you into a hug. You laughed and thanked her.

           “I never want to do that at a hockey game again, but thanks,” you smiled at her. She rolled her eyes.

           “I know. Nate said you were apprehensive about it,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously. You gave her a questioning look. “Just cause I can’t get you to spill everything yet doesn’t mean I can’t get something out of him at least. And I got my something. So you look extra cute tonight, your welcome.” Mel smiled slyly at you. You were about to ask her what she actually meant when the team started to disperse out of the locker room. Sinking into the background as everyone greeted their loved ones, you couldn’t help but feel warm at the scene. Competing as a figure skater was so individualistic, you usually didn’t see your family after a competition until after the award ceremony back at the hotel. That was if they traveled with you at all. As you looked around, you locked eyes with a familiar pair of blue ones. Nate made his way over to you, scooping you up into a hug. You giggled; your arms wrapped around his neck. As if you both remembered where you were at the same time, Nate quickly set you down and you brushed your hair behind your ear awkwardly.

           “Nice game MacKinnon,” you said, trying to not seem like you were too phased by remembering where you were. Nate chuckled, rubbing the back at of his neck. He felt slightly bad for making you feel awkward, but he was also getting tired of this unspoken line you had both drawn. What he wouldn’t do to just be able to kiss you then and there. He had to admit, watching your routine on video was one thing, but seeing you perform it in person and seeing you radiate with joy after took his breath away.  

           “Thanks coach. I guess you were pretty good too,” he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head, shoving his arm. Once everyone who was going out decided on where they were going, you walked with Nate to his car. Andre also got a ride with the two of you. You tried to tell him he could sit in the front since his legs were longer, but he insisted that you took the front. Once at the bar, the team got a seat in the VIP section, of course. You had actually never been in a VIP section, except for the time you went out with your friends for your 21st birthday. You had pulled the Olympian card, tipsy you having fun being center of attention when you usually shy away from it when you were off the ice; and it helped you were with a group of attractive people in the first place. Drinks were brought around and you had to fend off Tyson who kept trying to make you take a shot with him. Eventually you gave in and did one, but stuck with your beer for the rest of the night. You were a lightweight, and did not want to get drunk the first time you went out with everyone.

           As the night went on, you were definitely tipsy but not uncontrollable. You danced with a few of the girls and just had a fun time talking with everyone. Nate kept a close eye on you, grinning as you cracked up at something one of the girls said. “So what are you going to do?” Gabe asked, taking a seat next to Nate at their table. No one was paying attention to the two; either out dancing, at the bar, or in other conversations.

           “About what?” Nate took a sip of his beer.

           “Coach. Y/N,” Gabe answered, rolling his eyes. He knew Nate knew what he was talking about. Nate sighed, and figured out of everyone Gabe would probably give the sanest advice in this situation.

           “Honestly, I don’t know. I like being around her. I feel like I can just be myself and she doesn’t expect anything from me. I mean, I think she’s amazing,” Nate rambled and Gabe grinned at his friend. “But like you said the first day she showed up, I’m screwed. She’s our coach. She’s trying to work out this whole entire program and I don’t want to be the reason why it may not work out for her. There’s a line that we haven’t crossed for a reason, you know.” Gabe nodded. He felt bad that Nate was in this position. He was honestly just messing with him when he told him he was screwed that day; he hadn’t expected there to be actual feelings between the two. Nate had a solemn look on his face, and Gabe patted his shoulder.

           “To be frank, you two seem to have some sort of connection. It’s not obvious, but I’ve been paying attention since day one because I thought it was funny at first. But since then you guys have just grown closer it seems. I mean, you hang out all time. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you went and sat with her on the plane coming home. I don’t know what to tell you, but you are both adults and I’m sure if you just talked to her about it you could work it out,” Gabe finished as you and Mel bounded over to the table.

           “Work what out?” you asked, curious as to why the boys looked so serious. Gabe gave his wife a look that you did not understand, and answered as Nate seemed at a loss for words.

           “A new play,” he said, and Nate nodded. You took a seat next to Nate as Mel sat next to her husband, and dove into a story of what Linnea did that day. Nate started to relax again, laughing along with you. Soon after the night came to an end, and Nate drove Andre home before heading to your apartment. He carried your backpack for you into your apartment, setting it down by the front door while you ran to your room to put your dress away. With his conversation with Gabe still echoing in his head, Nate sat down on your couch, rubbing his face.

           “Do you want some water or something?” you asked, walking back into the main room.

           “Yeah. Water would be great. Thanks,” he responded. You grabbed two water bottles out of your fridge and handed him one as you sat cross legged on the other side of the couch facing Nate.

           “What’s up? Are you alright?” you asked, worried he was upset about something. It seemed like there was something on his mind. Nate turned to you, debating if he was really going to say it, or if he should leave it and you would both keep playing this game of not being something more to each other even though he was pretty sure you were on the same page as him. He gauged you as you watched him, deciding that you weren’t drunk, in fact you barely seemed tipsy anymore. If he was going to say anything, now would probably be the best. After taking a quick sip, he set the water down on your coffee table and turned so he was fully facing you.

           “What are we doing Y/N?” he asked. You looked at him confused, not sure why he was asking.

           “We’re hanging out? Drinking water…” you trailed off as he shook his head.

           “I didn’t mean right now. I mean kind of but not really,” Nate mumbled, but stopped when you reached for his hand and stared down at them intertwined. “What does this mean to you?” he asked, giving your hand a light squeeze.

           “Um,” you started, not sure if you actually wanted to say what it actually meant to you.

           “Because this,” Nate squeezed your hand again, “means something to me. And I think it means something to you too.” You nodded at his assumption. That was all the reassurance Nate needed to keep talking. “I like you Y/N, a lot. Like more than I thought was possible.” You smiled shyly, but then you remembered why you were in Colorado to begin with.

           “Nate, I’m your coach…” you started, but Nate shook his head.

           “I know that. I would never want to put you in a situation that cost you that, but I also don’t want to pretend like these feelings don’t exist anymore.” He moved closer to you and your heart picked up a bit. “You looked beautiful skating today. I think you look beautiful everyday and I want to be able to tell you that without feeling like I’m crossing some imaginary boundry.” You blushed and looked down, but Nate used his other hand to gently lift your chin back up so you were looking at him. He looked slightly worried that he had said to much, so you knew it was your turn to talk.

           “I really like you too Nate. I just don’t know how we’re supposed to navigate this. I’m worried that the program won’t be taken seriously if we start dating,” you said and Nate nodded, slowly letting go of your face. You could see the doubts start to form in his mind, and quickly grabbed his wrist, effectively keeping him there. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment, letting all the words that had been said sink in. Nate took a tentative breath, not sure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question.

           “So then what do you want to do?” he whispered, but at your proximity to each other it could have been a shout. You were pondering what to say next when he spoke up again. “Because I would like to see where this could go Y/N.” If you had any more doubts, that sentence pushed them away. You smiled softly up at him and nodded.

           “Me too,” your voice was barely over a whisper, but Nate heard you loud and clear. He smiled warmly at you, looking down at your lips then back into your eyes. This time when he leaned in, no phone went off to drag you both out of this blissful bubble surrounding you both. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips finally met yours, the butterflies in your stomach working overtime. It was short and sweet, and you both had smiles that could light up a room when you pulled away. You knew there was a lot to discuss and figure out, but in that moment you could have cared less. The rest of the night was spent with stolen kisses and talking about nothing and everything all at once. Neither of you had ever felt so content. And as the sun started to rise over Denver that Sunday, it found the two of you cuddled up and fast asleep on your couch.    

tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​ also @gravygravygravy​ @comphybiscuit​ (I know you two didn’t ask, but you’ve been so nice to me <3)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 34

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For those of you who read it Satisfied’s Alternate/Alternative Ending has a new chapter <3 dual update for Easter

Chat hadn’t known what to think when he was woken from his nap by buzzing. His brain had felt fuzzy, sure, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to be audible.

He pulled his face out of his pillow -- ignoring Plagg’s cry of surprise at being displaced -- and cracked an eye open.

Oh. His room was full of bees. And they were apparently taking the glitter out the window to the nearest dumpster. Oh. Okay. Why not? His life was already so weird.

He buried his face in his pillow again and went back to sleep.

~

When Ladybug stopped by, he had been playing late-night video games on the floor with Plagg. (Did he have an unfair advantage in his ability to hold the entire console at once? Yes. Was he going to go easy on the kwami? No.)

He tensed a little. Was she checking on her prank and about to get angry that Chloe had fixed everything (he made a mental note to thank her later, if they were both still alive)?

Ladybug and Chat looked at each other, silent, unreadable expressions on their faces... until the sound of Plagg finally beating his character with a loud screech pulled them back to reality.

Plagg may not talk, but the way he floated around Chat’s head, pumping his tiny fists in the air, was a pretty clear ‘hahahahaha I won you loser I winnnnnn’.

“Hey,” said Ladybug carefully, pulling his attention away from the gloating kwami. “Sorry if I’m interrupting something, but we really should talk…”

He hesitated slightly.

She held up her hands. “It doesn’t have to be right now but… soon?”

Chat bit his lip, and then turned off his console and set down his controller. “Now is fine.”

Ladybug nodded. “I was thinking we could get out of town for it...?”

Get out of town? Was this risky in some way? Were they about to get akumatized? Or, at least, have akumatizable emotions?

“Sure.”

So, after getting Rena to cover them for an hour while they booked it, they both left. Ladybug had her phone out, apparently to hold a map, though he didn’t really understand why because they were only really going in one direction.

“Alright!” She called suddenly from where she was flying along overhead. She swooped lower until she was buzzing along by Chat. “I think we’re far enough past the border to be safe.”

Ah. That was why. He nodded and skidded to a stop. She touched down on the ground beside him. They both mumbled to detransform and their kwamis almost instantly dove to hide in their jackets despite the fact that they were both still invisible to passerby.

They continued on in the direction they’d been heading in silence. No one was around, which wasn’t shocking considering it was nearing 1. They came to a stop at a bakery that was still open and she hesitated.

“Want something?”

He bit his lip. “Passion fruit macarons?”

She blinked, and for a moment it looked like she was going to say something, but then she nodded and headed inside to get some.

She came out a few moments later with a box of macarons for him and some regular chocolate chip cookies for herself. They settled to eat it just outside.

She nibbled at her cookies, eyes locked on a spot on the ground. He’d tried waiting for her to be ready to talk, but after a few minutes of her looking without seeing he decided he should at least say something:

“... you wanted to talk?”

She blinked a bit and looked at him, then quickly pulled her gaze back to the floor again. “Yeah. I guess I just wanted to say --.” She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “I can’t -- I --.” She glared at a crack on the ground like it had personally offended her. “You speak English, right?”

He startled a little. It was an odd question. But, still, he nodded. “I’m rich. I had to learn English and Mandarin.”

Her face lit up and for a second she looked at him again. “You speak Mandarin?”

He nodded.

“Can we…?” She started, unsure.

“Yeah, but I might be a little rusty.”

“That makes sense. If you don’t know a word I can translate it for you. Since we’re using my language not yours,” she said in Mandarin.

(Some vague part of him noticed that she took on a different tone in Mandarin, that her voice was lighter and a little smaller, that she seemed almost happier. He wondered if she’d like it if he spoke it with her more often.)

He nodded and made a vague motion with his hand, wordlessly telling her that he was ready for her to talk.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry and… I wanted to explain myself.”

He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, that he was also at fault, but she was already going on:

“Kwami, this is kind of embarrassing to admit to you, but my first few months of being ‘Ladybug’ didn’t go well.”

He nodded his understanding. Memories of his first few months as ‘Chat Noir’ were painful for him, too, despite how long ago it had been. All the people questioning his abilities, questioning his intentions, questioning his choices… had he not been used to media scrutiny, he doubted he would have continued on with it despite finally being able to go out in public as himself.

“I was second -- as you know, obviously -- and… a lot of comparisons were made. You’d had a year’s experience by then, and you’d had fight training beforehand, but I was just… new. You could always do things better, you were always preferred, you always got the bigger akumas while I got stuck with Mr. Pigeon and people like him. I even had a support-class-type power. Everything seemed to point to me being stuck as number two to you forever. And I think a part of me resented you for it.”

“I’m sor --.”

She cut him off with a look. “It’s not actually your fault. I shouldn’t have let it get to me as much as it did.”

He laughed without humor. “You were thirteen.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and then just shook her head and let the subject go. “Time passed, and Carapace came onto the scene, and people stopped comparing us as much… but they kept criticizing what I did. If I tried to be fun I was a ‘copycat’ and if I tried to act more serious I would be ‘bitchy’ and if I was neutral I was ‘boring’.”

He nodded slowly. He was beginning to understand where this was going.

“My sideeffects started coming in, and suddenly I was very lucky. None of the attacks ever seemed to hit me unless I REALLY messed up, and I started getting a reputation as ‘perfect’. And…” Her voice cracked a little and he looked away as she brought her arm to her face to wipe her face. “And I figured that, since I wasn’t even close to perfect, I should go with that kind of personality. At least it wouldn’t hurt as much when people criticized me, y’know? So I became everything I wasn’t, serious and perfect and --.”

He hesitated, biting his lip, and then he grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie and pulled her close. He gave her plenty of time to pull away, but she didn’t. She just buried her face in his shirt and stood there, arms limp at her sides, as he hugged her.

“I’m sorry, I should have helped --.”

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known.” She gave a wet laugh. “You’re really good at hugs, by the way.”

“And you suck, apparently,” he teased lightly.

“Rude,” she muttered, arms coming up to wrap around him as well.

She actually was good at hugs, he thought vaguely as she molded herself to fit against his body.

He bit his lip. He could just leave the subject there. She apologized and he’d definitely gotten enough of a punishment…

He buried his face in her hair. He couldn’t even admit this to Carapace, how was he supposed to admit this to her? But… he really did want to talk about it with someone, and if anyone could understand it would probably be her...

“I… I’m in the public eye a lot. As a civilian. And my persona is a lot like yours. I’m the perfect, sweet son of --… my dad. And so, when I saw you pretending to be perfect out in public to keep up an image… I might have projected a little. I’d always kind of wanted someone to expose me as not perfect so I could be more free to be myself in public, so I wouldn’t have to spend my few hours out of the house with perfect posture and even more perfect smiles to make sure it didn’t reflect poorly on my dad.”

She smiled against his shirt. “At least you being ‘perfect’ is kinda true. Sure, you’re a little lazy sometimes, but you’re still pretty much amazing. It’s almost annoying.”

“PLEASE. If kwamis could talk, I’m sure Plagg would have a lot to complain about.”

She laughed, properly this time, and pulled away from him. She took a step back and then leaned against a lamppost without even glancing behind herself to make sure something was there. “Tikki probably has some stories, too. But, either way, you’re practically as perfect as people can be.”

He wasn’t convinced. “My first response to negative emotions was to make someone else mad enough at me to be a distraction for a few days.”

She didn’t look surprised. Not that he’d really expected her to. If Carapace had figured it out then surely she had, too; she had a few more months of psychology experience than him.

“Yeah, and? You were still calculated enough to choose the person who was least likely to get akumatized. As perfect as a person can be.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and she mimicked the action.

He looked her up and down twice before locking eyes with hers. “You’re still comparing yourself to me. You have to think I’m perfect so you can feel like Parisians were justified in comparing us and putting you down because, if they weren’t, then you have to accept the people you save on a constant basis are kinda sucky.”

She blinked and then a blush spread across her face. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’.”

“I can psychoanalyze you, too,” she said, breaking gaze with him to glare at her feet. “You can’t bring yourself to believe you’re perfect because your shitty parents probably used that as a basis to punish you and you’d like to believe that they were doing it so you could be your best self rather than admitting the truth that they don’t care about you as much as they should.”

He sniffled. Wait, when did he start crying?

“... oh.”

“Yeah...”

She cleared her throat a little and that’s when he noticed she was starting to cry, too.

“Kwami, we’re both messes, huh?”

She laughed through her tears. “Fuck, maybe WE’RE the ones who need therapy, not the rest of Paris.”

“No no no, everyone in Paris needs therapy. The minute we defeat Hawkmoth I’m getting a psych degree. That’s where the money is going to be.”

“We already have honorary psych degrees. I bet if you ask Chloe she could get her dad to give you a license.”

He snapped his fingers and then pointed at her. “Smart. All those years would probably make it so therapists wouldn’t be needed as much.”

“A few years? With as much trauma as Parisians have? Nah. You’ve got at least a few decades of consistent customers. ESPECIALLY if you market it as therapy from Chat Noir.”

He managed a smile, and they were silent for a moment other than the dying sniffles and shudders.

“Are… are we good?” He asked quietly.

She blinked at him, and then looked down. There was a beat, and then she took a deep breath. She brought a smile to her face and stuck her hand out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you! My name is Ladybug! I promise I won’t displace my anger towards Paris onto you!”

He stared at the hand, uncomprehending, and then a smile stretched across his face. He shook her hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, too! I’m Chat Noir! I won’t be blind to your problems and will help out when people are being rude to you!”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t even stand up for yourself.”

“Uh… you’re right… uh… I’ll make Carapace help out when people are being rude to you!”

She laughed and shook her head. “Stupid.”

“I try.”

She smiled and hooked her arm through his.

“Whatever. Let’s get home.”

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic @meimei3841 @roseliali