FEARLESS

leejen_o_423: it's not trauma leejen_o_423: it's just- leejen_o_423: don't worry. i'll be there soon.

Jeno pockets his phone and climbs into the car, giving the manager the address for HYBE while placing the bag next to him. It's a stupid gift really, something he thought she might like so he had grabbed it for her — just to make her smile.

The thought makes him roll his eyes at himself.

It doesn't take long for them to get to the building, pulling into the private carpark so that he's not seen going inside. That would stir up some press and that's the last thing anyone needs right now especially since he's still unconvinced that Jen thinks he's a fucking asshole.

She'd be right, for the most part, but still he doesn't want it to be because of that.

"Hey." He waves when he finally spots her, giving her an easy smile as he holds the bag up for her to see. "You got those earplugs for me?"

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

Elevator chime announcing a certain someone's arrival, eyes narrowing, moving first and foremost. Not to him. To the bag. Of course to the bag. As it should be. The bag came before the man now. The bag had lore. The bag had motive. The bag had been transported through private parking like contraband with a skincare routine. Only then attention shifts, catching that easy smile, to the very casual, deeply offensive way the said bag is now being held up like a potential psychological warfare.

Hey. You got those earplugs for me?

❝ Mm, right. Your earplugs. ❞

Not answering immediately. Instead, a hand reaches for a napkin from the dispenser, then another. Tearing both in half, folding them unceremoniously. Rolling them between fingers with a focused ease. Countenance remaining calm.

❝ Since you insisted. ❞

The napkin pieces, a makeshift pair of earplugs, as highly demanded and requested. Staring at the first pair, then at him. Then, very slowly reaching for one more napkin.

❝ ⸻Actually. ❞

A new horror began—tearing another one, smaller, much smaller. Rolling each piece once more this time with delicateness to create little paper wads.

❝ Since you're already concerned about your ears, I'm offering a deluxe protection package. For your nostrils, too. You know, just in case. Put them in. ❞

Corners of the mouth lifting first, small and gleaming. Almost endearing.

❝ No, seriously. You asked. Put them in. I want to see your commitment to the bit. ❞

Hearing his hyung's name being mentioned, Jeno's smile doesn't falter, there's barely a twitch in his expression as she effortlessly insults him like that and while it might bother anyone else — it just has him chuckling softly and shaking his head. "Is getting me really that bad, huh?" He doesn't say it loud enough to draw attention as he takes the card and signs the front.

"If you had asked nicely, I could have taken something to get signed by hyung but..." Jeno trails off as he pushes the card back towards Jen and shrugs his shoulder.

There's fans behind her, ones impatiently waiting for her to get out of the way so that he could sign their photocards. The comment is meant to be teasing, something that almost seemed like an open invitation to pass something along for her to get her bias to sign. He's not bothered that she doesn't bias him, he knew from the first time that they met that he wasn't her favourite NCT member.

But, he wants to bother her.

Jeno wants to get under her skin and watch that composure, that she keeps so tightly held together, crack just a little.

"Thank you for coming today," He smiles up at her politely, like he would with any other fan, "we appreciate your love and support."

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

Thank you for coming today. We appreciate your love and support.

There it is—that fanservice voice. Such a tiny, perfect little weapon. A blink, then another. Fingers close around the now signed photocard slowly, very careful not to smudge the fresh black ink. A thumb pressing to the edge, not the signature. No, never the signature. Good manners are still there, deeply rooted and intact. Most unfortunately.

❝ Of course. ❞ Voice with the same frequency of politeness. Bright. Almost angelic. ❝ Anything for Neo Culture Technology. ❞ A pause, gaze dropping to the photocard in possession before it lifts back to him. ❝ I always support local businesses. Especially when customer service is this emotionally manipulative. ❞

The line of fans behind shifting impatiently, excitement pressing against like heat. Same smile just stays, stepping aside. Not far. Enough for the next fan to move forward. Enough to technically stop holding up the queue. One photocard sleeve. One small sticky note. One pen. Prepared. Horrifyingly prepared. The signed Jeno card slips inside with delicate care, sealed safely between plastic. The sticky note is pressed to the front. Lines of handwriting appearing slowly, neat and very unmistakable.

WTT: SIGNED LEE JENO LF: JEONG JAEHYUN

Now turning to the nearest cluster of fans, holding it up at chest level with a smile so pleasant it nearly passed for harmless. ❝ Hi, sorry. ❞ Each word spoken very saccharine sweet, still perfectly composed. ❝ Does anyone have Jaehyun? I have a signed Jeno. Very fresh. ❞ A look over the shoulder. Innocent, cap still shadowing half of the face, lips curved as though absolutely nothing wrong had been done within the span of thirty seconds.

thankyou-taeyeon

YUNJIN 260620 Spaghetti | 35th Seoul Music Awards

leejen_o_423: hey hey! leejen_o_423: you don't know, maybe it'll be a good reaction! leejen_o_423: 🙄 just let me know where you are and i'll come to you leejen_o_423: stop thinking i'm sus!

#ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛᴇxᴛ. ⸻ sᴍs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

jennifer: 'stop thinking you're sus' is exactly what a sus person says jennifer: ear plugs FOR YOU? jennifer: sorry, i don't have any so i guess you'll just have to suffer the consequences jennifer: so the gift is for me but the trauma is for you? jennifer: how very cute of you 🙄 jennifer: i'm at hybe, 6th floor lounge

jihyorita

YUNJIN performing DIFFERENT at the Tokyo Dome

hyungjin

The sheer, unadulterated nerve of her was spectacular. Hyunjin didn't blink, his arms remaining locked over his chest as he absorbed the utter lack of a reaction. No flush, no stammer, no publicist-approved panic. She had just taken his explicit, unfiltered provocation, turned it over in her hands like a curious sketch, and immediately weaponized it to tighten the leash.

Cut me a piece. Small one and not ugly. And feed it to me.

His smirk didn't fade as he watched her rest her chin against the back of her fingers, staring at him with those bright, catastrophic doe eyes. She thought she had found his red button. She thought she could pull his strings and watch him dance like a well-trained dog in a minimalist café.

"Delicate?" he echoed. "You don't know the first thing about how delicate I can be, Jennifer."

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers reached for the knife on the tray. He had never actually ordered a kouign-amann before but he wasn't about to let a lack of culinary expertise break his composure.

He pressed the blade down into the center of the glossy pastry.

Crack.

The hard, caramelized sugar lacquer didn't give way smoothly. Instead, the entire top layer fractured under the pressure of his hand, splintering like ice. The laminated dough beneath compressed, then violently tore, sending a tiny shower of golden, buttery flakes exploding across the pristine white porcelain plate and drifting onto the clean napkin she had just unfolded. The piece he managed to hack off was a jagged, mangled, completely asymmetrical mess of crushed pastry layers and uneven glaze.

It was, by all metrics, incredibly ugly. A total structural failure.

Hyunjin looked down at the absolute disaster on the plate, his eyebrows twitching for a fraction of a second as his perfectionist streak took a direct hit. But he didn't apologize. He didn't offer to fix it, and he certainly didn't look embarrassed. Instead, he stabbed the fork directly into the center of the crushed, mangled piece of pastry. Lifting it up, he held the messy, flaking bite just an inch away from her lips, a few stray crumbs tumbling off the edge onto the table between them. His eyes burned with a heavy, intense focus that dared her to back down from the monster she had created.

"Open," he murmured, the command smooth and unhurried, his gaze dropping to her mouth before rising back to lock onto hers with surgical precision. "You wanted to be impressed, yeobo. Eat it."

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#hyungjin

Eyes, rapt with attention, solely focused at the pastry.

Not at him.

The pastry.

The once glossy kouign-amann, golden and proud barely thirty seconds ago, now reduced to a fractured little disaster at the end of the silverware. Caramelized layers splintered, buttery flakes scattered across porcelain, napkin, table, dignity. A few crumbs clung to the uneven edge like they were also afraid of what he had done. The spring onion bagel sat beside the wreckage in heavy, savory silence, bearing witness. The iced americano sweated near the window, black and cold and spiritually exhausted.

Gaze staying on the mangled bite hovering an inch from her mouth.

There it was again.

Yeobo.

Curling around the fork between them, warm and smug, trying so hard to become the most dangerous thing at the table when, unfortunately, there was already a dead pastry involved. Eyes now lifting to him. Calm. Bright. Catastrophically amused.

❝ You murdered it. ❞

Gaze now dipping back to the fork, to those horrendous jagged layers, to the crumbs waiting to fall. And then, to his fingers, still wrapped around the handle. The pendant light overhead pouring soft amber over the tray, over his hand, over the fork suspended between them. Now leaning forward, slowly. Not because it was instructed. Absolutely not. Because if he wanted to say those words in that voice, then he could watch what happens when she listens too well.

❝ I asked for small. Not ugly. ❞

Glossy lips parting just enough. The bite disappearing from the fork. Clean. Unhesitant. Eyes staying on his the entire time, steady beneath the brim of her baseball cap, as if taking the pastry from him were not obedience but correction. A quiet little demonstration. A lesson with sugar and flakes involved. The caramel cracking softly beneath teeth, sweet, buttery. Ruined. Yet unfortunately, still good.

Hand reaching across the table, taking the fork from his fingers with a smooth little tug, knuckles brushing his. The metal was warm where he had held it. Now picking up the knife, glancing at the ruined kouign-amann, then back at him. Knife touching the pastry with patience so deliberate it was almost insulting. Pressing so delicately unlike the executioner he had been earlier. Guiding the blade through the caramelized edge, slow enough to protect and keep all its layers intact.

Not perfect.

But elegant.

Lifting the fork, holding it between them.

❝ Open. You wanted to be useful, yeobo. Learn. ❞ A pause. ❝ And don't make a mess. We're by the window. ❞

lemanchae

A laugh escapes her before she can stop it. The interrogation had momentarily shifted away from her and Eunchae was more than happy to take advantage of it. "Research archives?" The phone remains tucked securely against her chest regardless, arms refusing to loosen around it despite the fact that the immediate threat of confiscation seemed to have passed.

"And why are there suddenly four people?" Her eyes narrow playfully. Purposely prolonging any phone confiscation. "When did we go from one to four?" Eunchae sits up slightly, curiosity winning out in this moment.

One of her hands loosens from the phone to push some hair behind her ear. "I want names. I want to see if I know any of the guys." Her legs unfold, then stretch out in front of her. The tension from her body loosening some as she straightens her legs in front of her and does small kicks to help wind down the excitement that coursed through her body.

"I need to see the oppas" Her free hand doing a grabby motion up to Yunjin. "I will let you have my phone for... ten seconds" That was a fair enough trade, right?

Actually, now that she was thinking about it. Ten seconds was far too long. Her tiktok was filled of thirst traps of a certain someone. A notes folder that she practically used as a diary, and saved photos and perhaps text messages that she didn't want her unnie or anyone else to see. Should she have suggested the ten seconds? The question haunted her as she locks eyes with her unnie. Now regretting that she hasn't changed the passcode to her damn phone. It's been the same since debut. Different phones throughout the years but passcode remaining the same.

"Wait, why do you want my phone?" Suddenly the curiosity of oppas now paused.

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#lemanchae

❝ Yah, suddenly? ❞

A hand returns over chest, fingers spreading there with wounded elegance despite how hair behaves untamed within the confines of that claw clip.

❝ Manchae, I said maybe four. That is not a confirmed number but a flexible estimate. ❞

Gaze now flicks down to the phone, still pressed against the maknae in question's chest. Still guarded. Still protected. Still clutched like a tiny rectangle of forbidden literature. Her mouth twitches. There it is again—the loosened shoulder, the playful narrowing of those bright expressive eyes, those small kicks of her feet as excitement tries its best to escape through her toes because this particular maknae has never known how to be normal about any sort of gossip.

❝ Okay. First of all, don't call them oppas like that. I already feel spiritually audited. You want names? From me? ❞ A scoff, light, but it slips in that offended little spin for a prosecution she absolutely started herself. ❝ Wow. Suddenly everyone believes in transparency. Suddenly everyone wants honesty in this dorm. Interesting. I'm writing this down. ❞

Wait, why do you want my phone?

That same hand which had been halfway extended again, stops. Slowly drawing it back. No grab. No search warrant. No unnie branded dictatorship. Just fingers curling lightly around her own sleeve instead, thumb pressing into the soft cotton.

❝ Because you looked sad before you looked guilty. ❞

Words coming out quieter, too honest. A clear of throat almost immediately, trying to shove past the softness back under a pillow before it decides to embarrass the both of them.

❝ And then you got all 'unnieeeeeeeuh' ❞ mimicking the intonation and delivery almost too perfectly. ❝ I don't actually want to take it. ❞ Eyes flick toward the phone again, but doesn't reach toward it. ❝ Not if you don't want me to. ❞

Letting the words linger there, take a seat by itself, smaller than the joke, heavier than the joke, the kind of thing that could tip the room if either of them stared at it too long. So naturally, eyes drift away first, toward the abandoned platinum blonde extensions. Very serious.

❝ But I will offer you a counter-deal. You don't have to give me your phone, you don't have to show me the folder, you don't have to show me whatever questionable dancer-boy propaganda your algorithm gave you. But you do have to tell me if it was comments before the edit. ❞

Voice softer now, still careful and trying.

❝ Just that. And maybe I'll even trade one name from my archive. ❞

A pause.

❝ Maybe. ❞

femaleidols

leejen_o_423: haha it's not that bad. leejen_o_423: i think you'll like it. leejen_o_423: just bring yourself and maybe some ear plugs for me-

#ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛᴇxᴛ. ⸻ sᴍs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

jennifer: ear plugs??? jennifer: okay so you've already accepted that i'm going to react poorly jennifer: how very thoughtful of you jennifer: almost suspiciously thoughtful

ycvnjun

for a moment, yeonjun forgot they were filming. it happened somewhere between the offered ration and the look that accompanied it. a dangerous combination that messed with the chemistry in his head. his gaze dropped briefly to the straw she'd angled toward him before drifting back to her face.

"wow." the word escaped before he could stop it. "that's how you're gonna be?"

for someone who'd spent years talking his way through interviews, variety shows, awkward conversations, and situations significantly more complicated than this, he found himself unexpectedly short on material.

old habits die hard, though. that old personality of his that he thought he kicked into the grave now itching to poke out.

"would getting on my knees suffice?" the question left his mouth before he could reconsider it. immediately, he regretted absolutely nothing. which was probably the bigger problem.

eyes briefly dropping toward the floor like he was debating whether to do it. don't, he tells himelf. the smarter part of his brain offered the warning. unfortunately, that part of his brain had never been particularly good at winning arguments.

"please," knees already made contact with the floor, hands held up like someone asking a god for a favor. "allow me more than two sips."

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#ycvnjun

One would think the elevator forgot to hum... or perhaps it still is. Still performing that useless little mechanical lullaby against the walls, but the sound had now gone somewhere behind the blood in her ears, behind the ice clacking once inside the cup, behind the fact that Choi Yeonjun, former idol, current elevator resident, had actually lowered himself to the floor with hands up.

On his knees.

On the floor.

Of the H Y B E elevator.

For coffee. For more than two sips.

Camera catching everything before the mind did.

Expression remains exactly the same from what it was before, a still picture, which was either discipline or system failure. Quite difficult to say. Thumb remaining along the edge of the phone, other curled around the cup. Its straw, previously innocent, suddenly looking utterly incriminating.

❝ Well, one sip was standard ration. Two was already generous. And three... ❞

Bright doe eyes narrowing slightly, gaze traveling from those raised hands to that pleading face, then very deliberately toward those knees that have kissed polished grey. The fact that such an act was done entirely on his own should have been concerning—Utterly concerning. Unfortunately, it also earned a prickle of heat to crawl beneath her skin, ridiculous and immediate. The cup turning too cold to touch against the palm as though the body had also decided it its turn to betray her in several departments. Phone now slipping back into her pocket, the evidence temporarily sealed. Free hand now lifting before the smarter rationale could object, two fingers brushing a few pieces of hair away from his forehead. Clean. Precise. Practical. Brief. Nothing.

Except it was not nothing.

The bended part of the straw angling closer, exactly close enough.

❝ Mmmm... so, how many sips do you think you’ve earned, Jjunie? ❞

pureflovv

YUNJIN — 'BOOMPALA' @ INKIGAYO (260531)

leejen_o_423: hey, i- ah, got something for you. leejen_o_423: you free later?

────── @lejenaissante

#ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛᴇxᴛ. ⸻ sᴍs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

jennifer: got something for me? jennifer: interesting jennifer: should i bring a witness or a shovel?

He had seen her the moment his head poked around from the back, a few of the members having turned up to see fans at the event. Some were coming later, some maybe tomorrow, who knows, all Jeno knew was that he was there.

Smiling. Always smiling.

When he saw Jennifer, that smile grew a little wider and he was going to grab her attention but decided to play a bit of a game with her first.

leejen_o_423: you look like someone pissed in your cup. leejen_o_423: did you pull jaem?

Chuckling, he tries to keep out of sight as best as he can before she spots him, slinking into the shadows like some hawk watching from the trees, ready to swoop in at any time. It'll be announced soon that they are there, that they'll be around, interacting with fans and checking out the 'playground' that was designed specifically for them. NCT.

After getting bored staring like some sort of creep, Jeno moves towards the other members, plastering that wide smile on his face once more before the manager calls out to everyone to take a seat. "Sit down, be respectful, please do not overcrowd or touch the members." Repeated several times as the NEO boys make their way out from the back, waving at fans who seem to double in volume as they scream.

Jeno's eyes glance over the crowd, like he's not looking for someone in particular but rather just looking around — until he sees her. A small, quick nod is given, an acknowledgement before he stands beside the machine, pulling a pen from his pocket.

"Anyone who got me, I'll sign your card, if you'd like."

#sᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ⸻ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴡ/#leejenxo423

Sighing, it slips past, soft and deep—ancient, even. Heels now turning, about to disappear into her bias' merchandise section with dignity intact and credit card ready for combat, heart already halfway inside one of the gacha machines. Unfortunately, steps now turning into the line forming in front of him. Not rushed. Not embarrassed. Not even particularly apologetic. Almost peaceful within the sea of voices overlapping, everyone too busy vibrating with excitement to notice this tiny act of emotional vandalism currently walking toward the signing table in a dark cap and an outfit chosen specifically for plausible deniability.

Photocard placed neatly on the table between them, aligned with unnecessary care. His printed face staring up. His real face right there. The whole thing ridiculous enough to feel scripted by someone with a personal grudge against one's internal peace. Gaze looking at the card, then up at him. The gentlest curvature of a smile tilting, small, expression softening into something almost sweet.

Well, almost.

❝ Hi. Can you make this out to Jeong Jaehyun? ❞

Finger tapping once against the edge of the table, a tiny sound beneath the screams within all this NEO-fied chaos.

❝ There seems to have been a clerical error. ❞

Another pause, gaze dipping briefly to the photocard before lifting once more toward the actual person printed on it.

❝ Or, if that’s against policy, you can just sign it somewhere visible. I’m trying to increase its trade value. ❞

originalvisual

lemanchae

The reaction is immediate. "Yah!" A squeak of protest escapes her before she can stop it. The phone is snatched against her chest with both arms, shoulders curling inward as if Yunjin had just threatened national security instead of a lock screen. "No..." The answer comes entirely too fast.

Eunchae swipes her thumb along the backside to her phone. Acting as if she hadn't just tried protecting her phone like it was her cub. "I mean..." She clears her throat. "You abuse your power" She says playfully.

Meanwhile the device remains trapped between both hands. Protected, hidden. Had this been a year ago, Eunchae would have freely handed over the device without another thought. Be whiny afterwards? Absolutely. But still, would have given over the phone to any of her unnies had they so much glanced in its direction.

But now, there was a small... yet large wall that begun to form since Bali. Secrets that Eunchae didn't want to share with her members. Especially Yunjin when she promised to be careful. To not rush into things. Yet, she had done the complete opposite.

"It's not even that bad...." Eunchae adds.

Unsure if she was referring to the edit or something entirely. Suddenly, the tips of her ears feel warm. Her grip on the phone tightens though her mind had already wandered back to the looped edit she saw moments ago, and she could feel her chest tightening.

"Do you watch any videos of a certain someone on Tiktok, unnie?" She quickly tries to ask.