#maknae

[mattaytchtaylor]

Better sit down

[h-dw]

That one percent

pairing: bf! jeongin x reader (fem!reader implied)

genre: fluff, reader gets cuteness agression from baby innie (who wouldn't), 0.1% angst of you even wanna call it that, crack

warnings: use of the word 'sexy'

ss count: 2

a.n.: this one's a bit short but i hope you enjoy!<3

[dulceazucarmorena97]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 (ATEEZ as Fathers || Maknae Line)

A/N: I made this mostly because I'm obsessed with the idea of San as a father <3 Enjoy

Hyung line here

1.) San

Born to be a girl dad (have you seen how he takes care of Sandeoki?)

Gets cuteness aggression rlly easily

nervous parent (cuts grapes into quarters)

clingy/affectionate

Super dad: lets you get your rest while he helps with chores "Flowers for my flower," San says sweetly, handing you a bouquet of beautiful roses, before turning to your daughter and handing her a much smaller, toddler-sized bundle of pretty purple and white flowers, "and baby's breath for my baby."

2.) Mingi

Clueless learning as he goes

fun uncle energy

pushover

makes sure his kids are dressed to the nines

Suggested you guys paint baby's nursery in the shade "Cement" (told him you'd think about it even though you knew it was a hard NO) "I don't think it's an unnecessary purchase," Mingi shrugs, bottom lip jutting out slightly. "Mingi, what does a three year old need a wallet chain for?" You raise a brow at him, waiting for his response. "For...uhm..." You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries desperately to search for a valid response, before finally throwing his hands up exasperatedly, "for looking dope as fuck." "And there it is," You roll your eyes. "Fine, I'll put it back...Lord forbid our toddler put that shit on," He mutters.

3.) Wooyoung

Incredibly affectionate

Will beat a bitch up for his kid Protective

Is practically a breast Very maternal

Petitioned for a Bring Your Kid to Work Day just so he could show off your kid

Thinks he's the best parent in ATEEZ

"Look at this one," Wooyoung say excitedly, tapping incessantly on Hongjoong's shoulder, holding out his phone. Hongjoong takes a deep breath, trying to keep his cool as he looks away from his computer screen to, once again, look at another picture of Wooyoung's kid. "Isn't she adorable in this one?" Wooyoung asks. Hongjoong closes his eyes, trying to be gentle when he says, "Yes, she is adorable in this one- just like in the last one you showed me, and the one before that."

4.) Jongho

A lot of rough and tumble play

Patient (for the most part)

Goes out to be his son's little league coach

Will not let his kid quit what he starts, no matter how hard it is

Takes pride in the family he's built with you "Jongho, get in here!" You call out to him from the kitchen. He runs in, concerned with the urgency in your voice, "What? What happened?" That's when he catches sight of the crudely split watermelon on the kitchen chair, and your son standing next to it, "What, did you drop it or something?" You shake your head, sighing loudly, "Your son," You eye him, "Got the bright idea to split the melon himself." "Wow, that's good, Son," Jongho says with a pleased nod. "WITH HIS HEAD," You add. Jongho's eyes widen as he looks back and forth between the watermelon and his very red-foreheaded son. Jongho stifles a laugh, "Why- why would you do that, son?" Your son pouts, looking guilty, "Because I wanted to open it like you but it's too big for me to do it with my hands." Suddenly, Jongho bursts out laughing- a laugh that comes from deep in his belly- one that, of course, cuts through your frustration to make both you, and your son laugh with him.

[heehxe]

— 西村 力 ADMIRING UPCLOSE

note: blackpink lisa, loose mentioned. idol!riki x trainee idol!reader. coachella ni-ki. word count: 3304

COACHELLA WAS ALIVE IN A WAY you could only dream of—flashing lights, throbbing bass, and the heat that comes from the warmth of the desert and the thrill of it all. You stayed close to your predebut groupmates, your pass swinging around your neck, and tried to remain composed when Enhypen took center stage.

You caught sight of him right away. Ni-ki.

Your bias. Your senior.

The reason you had choked out your trainee contract in 2023, your eyes full of stars and hope. He was nineteen—just like you—technically younger by a few months, but something about his presence made him feel years older.

The way he moved, so naturally, his dancing was liquid control, sharp when it had to be, smooth with the transition—his signature smirk on his lips like he knew the whole crowd's attention was on him. Like he knew yours was. And of course it was. It was impossible not to when the boy you'd spent months watching from your cracked phone screen was right in front of you and only a few meters away.

Your heart stuttered when his eyes landed on you.

It was brief—fleeting, even—but his gaze paused, then lingered. You didn't miss the subtle lift of his eyebrow or the twitch of his lips, not when he tilted his head slightly, like he was making sure. Your newly dyed hair probably gave you away, but you could swear the way he smirked after... was entirely for you.

When the music stopped and the members began talking, thanking fans, joking with one another—it felt unreal. Ni-ki lifted his mic halfway and stopped, scanned the crowd, and pointed. Directly at you. You blinked in shock. One of your groupmates elbowed you while beaming, and your other groupmate cackled like she was going to fall over.

"Oh my god," she hissed. "He knows." Your ears burned. 

You played it off with a smirk and little wave, but your heart was absolutely combusting in your chest. When their set concluded and the lights dimmed, your pass allowed you access to the backstage area. You tried not to speed walk. Your group members had split off to find drinks, probably giving you a moment you hadn't even asked for.

Ni-ki was wiping the sweat from his neck with a towel when you approached him. His hair was swept back, his cheeks flushed. The white of his shirt clung lightly to his skin and you could pick up the scent of cologne and stage fog and sweat.

"Hey," you offered, a bit shy but steady.

He glanced over and smiled. "Hey. Didn't think I'd see you here."

"You guys were... insane," you blurted, shifting your weight to your other foot. "I mean—amazing. The dancing. Your expressions. That footwork during 'Sweet Venom'—I've seen it online but it's totally different live."

He let out a short laugh, almost breathless, shaking his head. "Thanks. Were you watching closely?"

Your face heated even more. "I... yeah, kind of can't not."

Jay was a few feet down talking to Jungwon and snorted. "Kind of can't not? That's your junior, Riki."

"Not only a junior," Jungwon said with a smirk. "A fan too."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Ni-ki tilted his head slightly to look at your bag—and froze. Your stomach dropped. Hanging off the zipper was a photocard.

His photocard, from the Orange Blood era—his hair orea, staring intensely, mouth slightly aghast in a pout. You had meant to take it off before it went to the festival, but you forgot.

"That's old," he said, his smile widening, more amusement than cockiness. "You've kept that since 2023?"

Your fingers fumbled to cover the bag. "It's... a little sentimental."

He leaned closer, teasing the air, "That your favorite one of me?"

Your throat felt parched. "... Maybe."

"I like your hair, by the way," he said, so casual it sent shivers all down your spine. "It looks good on you. Makes you look more confident." 

You blinked at him. "This is the first time we've actually talked, like... this."

"Then I'm glad it happened here." He stepped back, toweling off his neck again. "We've got another set next weekend. New outfits, new dance break."

You nodded quickly. "I'll be watching."

He gave you a wink, slow and casual. "I know."

Not even a full minute passed since Ni-ki gave you that wink before Jay pulled him quickly away to the right. You followed their movement with your eyes, your breath hitching as you saw her.

Lisa.

From BLACKPINK.

You weren't one to freeze very easily, but your body had other plans. Lisa looked like she walked out of a beautiful dream—long hair sleek, physique impeccable, and an aura that was just untouchable. She was even prettier in person, if that was possible. Ni-ki and Jay found themselves in front of her, smiling like two children meeting their childhood idols.

You couldn’t even blame them—BLACKPINK is the girl group. You were a Lisa fan too, as a dancer and idol who existed in a lane all her own. Just walking by her was surreal. And to even be acknowledged by her? That was uncharted territory.

They filmed a quick TikTok together, genuine laughter poured out between them like they were reunited from years apart. And you swore Ni-ki looked at you between shots. Once. Twice. Almost checking in to see if you were still watching.

Spoiler: you definitely were. 

Then, Lisa's eyes drifted across the space—and landed on you.

She smiled, soft and genuine, and waved you over.

Your soul practically left your body.

You tried not to trip over your own feet once you walked up, heart hammering like a bass drop. Lisa reached for your hand in greeting, beautifully manicured nails and a gentle grip. "I think I've seen you before," she said, accent smooth and comforting. "You work with HYBE right? I saw posts... you're about to debut??"

You could barely work your jaw. "Yeah. I am..."

"Congratulations!" She beamed. "You have the look. I really love your vibe. And your hair—very bold—it works."

You could have died right there. "Thank you so, so much," you said with a breathless laugh. "I've admired you for so long. You're one of the reasons I started dancing in the first place."

Lisa put a hand over her heart. "Aw that means a lot. Wanna take a picture?"

You nodded frantically. Maybe a little too frantically. She slung an arm around you, phone up, both of you throwing up peace signs—and if your ears were red before, they were practically glowing. You were close enough to smell her perfume. Lisa freaking Manobal. She said she saw you on HYBE's feed.

Ni-ki was still watching.  

Still in the background, still wiping sweat from earlier, but definitely not missing a single detail. Jay nudged him hard in the ribs. Ni-ki didn't move, didn't look away—just bit his lip, watching the way your eyes crinkled in your smile, how your hands nervously fixed the hem of your top after the picture.

"She's cute," Jay muttered next to him.

"Yeah," Ni-ki muttered back. "Really cute."

Jay grinned too knowingly. "You're so down bad."

"Shut up." But he couldn't stop looking. Couldn't stop picturing the way you stuttered around him a mere ten minutes ago, then turned to sunshine next to Lisa. You looked like a kitten with your pink ears and blinking eyes.

And the way you dressed to Coachella? He hadn't been able to forget it since it broke out in the crowd, in the audience.

One year apart. That's all.

And he had seen the way you danced; really danced, not just aesthetically, but with real power behind your moves, and having control, and having intent. He watched your covers before this. He knew you were talented. But seeing you now—alive, vibrant, confident, and glowing under the same lights—something twisted in his chest.  

She was a fan of me.

She had my photocard.

Ni-ki wasn't the type to get flustered easily, but god, he couldn't wait to see you again.

Preferably when Lisa wasn't stealing all your attention.

After you finished talking with Lisa, you wandered away a little, still a bit stunned, and warm in your cheeks from the praise, the photo, the whole Lisa experience. You exhaled and took out your phone, pretending to scroll while standing to the side of the group near the water cooler. Ni-ki was nearby again.

You didn't mean to stare, honestly, but there he was—giggling with Sunghoon, taking a couple of group photos with the others, his cheeks still flushed from the performance. His jacket hung halfway off his shoulder, the white t-shirt clinging to his back, his hair slightly damp.

Why did he have to look like a K-drama second lead every time you blinked?

You blinked back down at your phone. Instagram. Explore page. More fancams from the Coachella stage already. You almost clicked a video that had his name in all caps—before someone tapped your shoulder. You turned abruptly, surprised, to find one of the HYBE managers.

"Ah- sorry," he said quickly. "Can I ask you for a quick favor?"

You blinked again. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're under HYBE too, and you're here anyway," he explained, handing over a company phone. "We're doing this boyfriend post concept for Enhypen's Instagram story. Just quick stuff, like fanservice shots where it looks like the girlfriend is taking the pic."

Your mouth opened. "Like—ENGENE POV?"

The manager gave a nod. "Yeah, we were gonna do a few for all the members. Right now, I just need one of Ni-ki. Just a casual back drop. He knows about it, but I've been busy running around to get everything lined up. Can you go take it for me?"

Take a boyfriend concept photo of Ni-ki.

You felt your soul leave your body for the second time today. "I- uh, sure. I mean. yeah."

You fumbled about, like the phone was going to blow up in your hand.

"Thanks," the manager smiled, already turning away to answer a call. You slowly made your way toward Ni-ki. He was still laughing about something with Jake and Jungwon, all dimples and shoulder rolls.

You cleared your throat. "Um......"

He turned. "Oh- hey."

You paused. "The manager asked me to, uh- take a photo of you."

He raised an eyebrow; as if he looked amused. "Of me? You?"

You held up the company phone with a shy smile, and he gestured to take it. "Enhypen's Insta story. 'Boyfriend concept' or something? They wanted your back. Like, they literally wanted your back."

Jake choked on air. Jungwon quietly walked away, trying not to laugh.

Ni-ki blinked once. Then smirked. "Oh?" he said, backing up slightly and turning around, tugging his jacket off entirely. "Like this?"

Your brain short-circuited. His shirt was hugging him perfectly. He was doing this on purpose. You were going to combust. "Y-Yeah. That works," you stammered, lifting the camera, trying to focus the shot and not let your fingers shake.

He looked effortlessly cool, hands in his pockets, standing casually like he was waiting for a date.

You took the first picture. Then you took a second.

He looked over his shoulder. "You sure you got my good side?"

You nearly dropped your phone. "They just said your back! It’s not like I had good angles!"

He turned around fully now, grinning. "You're red again."

You muttered something under your breath, handing him back his phone, avoiding his gaze. "Whatever. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe," he said, his voice lower now, playful. "You're very cute when you get flustered."

You froze, eyes wide.

"Hey, Ni-ki," Jay yelled from across the space. "Let's go, they're calling for the next set!"

Ni-ki looked over and waved, then leaned closer to you—just close enough for you to feel heat rising in your ears again. "See you next weekend," he said with a wink. "I'll make sure to wear something that goes with your photocard next time."

And just like that he turned and jogged away to his group, leaving you standing there empty with your heart on the floor.

When you finally stepped into your hotel room, your body was sore in the satisfied way of just finishing a performance, but your mind was still spinning in the wreckage of your day—Lisa, Coachella, the weight of Ni-ki's hand on your back (don't think about it) and now, finally, you are in your pajamas, lounging about on the floor with your members in a clutter of snacks, face masks, and open laptops.

Then came the scream. "Y/N."

You blinked up, in the middle of a seaweed chip, to see Jaein holding her phone like it was evidence in a court case. "I swear if this is another picture of me chewing like a camel—"

"No! Look!" She turned the screen toward you.

Your stomach dropped. It was a tweet—two pictures side by side. One of you taken from the distance, holding your own phone up as you were taking your pic of Ni-ki earlier. The other picture was the actual picture you took that ended up on Enhypen's story.

Your posture matched perfectly. And the caption?

"👀 Rumors stir as HYBE's new female trainee is seen taking this boyfriend-concept pic of ENHYPEN's Ni-ki herself. Are the two already close? Fans speculate potential idol couple brewing..." 

You choked on your chip. "WHAT."

Your ears were on fire.

"Nooo way this is real," Sehee giggled, grabbing the phone.

"Girl. Be honest," Ara said, leaning over from her spot on the bed. "Are you dating him? Just blink twice."

"I'm not dating him!" you wailed, hiding your face in your knees. "They literally just asked me to take the photo! The manager was busy and I was there!"

"And the flirting?" Jaein raised a brow.

You went silent.

They knew.

You sighed into your knees. "...Okay. He's—nice. And funny. And hot. But if you tell anyone, I swear I'll delete all your fancams off the cloud."

They all laughed like they had known for weeks. "But," you added quickly, "we haven't even texted or anything. I mean. I don't even know if he thinks of me like that."

Literally that same night as you were curling into bed and opened Instagram to do your usual scroll for the night, your phone buzzed.

ni-ki liked your post.

Your last one—where you were wearing a soft oversized tee, hair in a low ponytail, holding a little Smiski figure in your hand, captioned: finally got this cutie ☁️

You stared at the notification. HE SAW THIS?

Your brain crashed. You checked it again.

Yeah. He liked it. Which meant... he scrolled.

On your feed.

Which meant he was stalking your page.   

You barely slept that night. 

The entire week after that week, it was grind time. Practice, workouts, stage prep. But your head was not with you. Especially because now even more fans were recognizing you—asking for photos in LA, complimenting your dance videos online. Some even asked if the Ni-ki rumors were real. You would just smile and say, "He's cool but we're not dating, it was a coincidence.."

But back on the other side, in the Enhypen dorms? 

"Bro," Jake said, holding the same picture of your Smiski post to emphasize your infatuation. "You're seriously down bad, just look at you. Staring at the feed like it's Netflix."

Ni-ki groaned, flipping the hoodie over his head. "Shut up."

"You're so down bad you even liked it," Sunghoon added nonchalantly. "For someone so down bad, you're very brave."

"She posted it for all to see," Ni-ki muttered, the tips of his ears pink, "also, she was cute. The caption? The hair? I'm only human."

Jay interjected from the couch, "So when are you going to text her?"

Ni-ki hesitated. Jake smirked, "Coachella is this weekend again. Are you going to pretend you don't know her this time? Or are you going to ask her to get boba?"

Ni-ki threw a pillow at him. But his heart? It was already counting down the days.

COACHELLA, WEEK 2.

You arrived early with your crew, all of you looking great—styled, sharp, and camera ready. But you? You knew you did something special today. The revealing outfit, the low rise cargo skirt snug across your hips, a chain around your waist, your hair in a low slightly messy ponytail that gave off effortless baddie. The moon was glowing. The crowd was buzzing. America's energy was infectious.

Then ENHYPEN came on stage. 

It was madness from the moment the beat hit. New looks. New aura. Everything leveled up. And Ni-ki? He didn't walk on stage, he devoured it. 

Red and black—danger and desire. The jacket hung off his frame just enough to tease; until midway through the song, he shrugged it off to unveil the black tank top that was skin-tight and hugged his chest, with a silver chain simply resting on top glinting in the stage lights. His silver hair was messy perfection, slightly disheveled from sweat and the energy of the performance. 

You had already been drinking water when it happened—he moved toward your section of the crowd, eyes scanning down fast. Locked in. 

And then—a wink.

A small bite of his lip. 

A flick of the tongue, fast. 

It was subtle. It was slick. It was Ni-ki.

And of course, Jaein caught it.

"Girl." 

"I know."

"NO—like, I KNOW. Look at this fancam."

You barely had time to process it before the final encore ended and a big teaser for their new comeback flashed across the LED screen. Your group was already beginning to walk backstage when your manager pulled you by the arm.

"Hey, someone wants to talk to you."

You furrowed your brows. "Who?" 

"You'll see."

And there he was. Ni-ki sittng on a matching folding bench, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, towel over his shoulder. Jake standing next to him, let out a low whistle when he noticed you walk in.

Ni-ki's eyes snapped up. Froze. Letting them drag down your body and back up again. Your waist on display. Your makeup fresh yet bold. That low braid spilling right over your shoulder.

"Wow," Jake mumbled. "Didn't know it was a fashion show back here."

"Shut up," Ni-ki said, still staring directly at you. You furrowed your eyebrows and sat down right next to him, legs crossed, chill but conscious of how close your knees were.

"So," you started, "you liked my picture."

Ni-ki leaned back, arm thrown over the backrest lazily. "Yeah. I did."

"You stalked my page but didn't follow me?"

He turned to you with that look. The one where his mouth curled slightly at the side, all smug and lowkey.

"I noticed the ponytail," he said, ignoring your question completely. "It was sitting just right."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

He leaned closer, voice lower. "You should let it down. Don't be shy."

You stared. "Are you serious?"

"I mean," he shrugged, looking from your lips to your eyes, "you'd look hot with it down. Especially in this outfit."

Your ears felt hot. But you didn't let him see you flustered. So, you took out your hair tie. Your hair fell around your shoulders, loose and tousled.

He blinked. Pulled back. Exhaled. "...Yup," he mumbled, and that's all he said.

────୨ৎ────

The fancams? Blowing up online.

"WHO is Ni-ki looking at like THAT??"

"Not him WINKING and licking his lips—sir??"

"Lowkey the girl in the front was kind of hot."

"Y'all this better not be his girlfriend or I'm suing HYBE."

"Wait—isn't that a trainee under HYBE??"

"The way they interacted backstage is giving crush not dating...yet."

And despite all the denial and "we're just under the same company" speech—there was no confusion in your position.

Jaein was fully aware. And as far as the likes on your most recent post from certain enhypen members—half the internet was aware. You aren't dating.

But god... you could be one accidental late-night studio session away from it.

[en-lov3r]

𝙈𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙣𝙖𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙪𝙣 ( ᵔ ᴗ ᵔ )

[channiesrailway]

SKZ VLOG: I.N in Busan and London ♥︎

[lovelycherry17]

“Just a little cold”

“i'm not going to get sick, you silly. Just let me hold you.”

Dino (Chan) x Reader • Fluff / Comfort • ~1k words

genre: sick fic, domestic, soft boyfriend!chan, caretaking, clingy chan, comfort, “i’m not going to get sick, just let me hold you”, warmth, quiet love

warnings: none

taking requests ♡

song rec: “Only” – Lee Hi

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The music cuts off, but Chan barely registers it at first. His body is still moving as muscle memory carries him through the last counts of the choreography.

The practice room is warm and heavy with the kind of heat that clings to your skin after hours of repetition. Chan’s shirt sticks slightly to his back as he exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. It’s late, later than he thought, and for a moment he just stands there, catching his breath, trying to push past the exhaustion settling into his limbs.

Hoshi is saying something, probably about running it again, and normally Chan would already be nodding and resetting into position without thinking.

But tonight, something feels off.

He reaches for his water bottle, taking a long sip, when the door opens and Jun steps in, holding something out.

“Chan, your phone kept ringing in your bag.”

There’s nothing unusual about that. Not really. But something in the way Jun says it makes Chan’s chest tighten slightly before he even takes the phone.

Then he sees it.

Missed calls.

From you.

More than one.

And a message.

“I’m sick… left work early.”

His grip tightens around the phone as something sharp and immediate settles in his chest, cutting straight through the fatigue.

You’re sick and you called him.

More than once.

“Hyung, I—” he starts, already grabbing his hoodie without finishing the sentence. “I have to go.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Doesn’t think about practice, or timing, or anything else. He’s out the door before it can matter, the only thing left in his mind the image of you alone, not feeling well, and the way you always try to downplay it when it’s bad.

The walk feels too long. The elevator too slow, he checks his phone again like something might have changed in the last minute.

It hasn’t.

By the time he reaches your place, he’s already pushing the door open, breath slightly uneven.

And then he sees you.

Curled up in bed, smaller than usual somehow, surrounded by the quiet mess of a day spent feeling awful. Tissues, a mug, the blanket pulled tight around you.

He stops in the doorway, hands settling on his hips more out of habit than anything else, tilting his head as he looks at you, letting a faint frown settle on his face like he’s annoyed.

He’s not.

Not really, but you should’ve told him sooner.

You smile anyway.

And he melts instantly.

The frown disappears before he can hold onto it, his expression softening as he walks over, sitting on the edge of the bed like there’s nowhere else he could be. His hand finds yours naturally, fingers curling around it as his thumb brushes lightly over your skin.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” he asks quietly, his voice gentler now, all the edge gone. “I knew it was a bad idea to go to work this morning.”

You let out a weak laugh, your voice rough around the edges. “You only said that because you wanted to stay in bed cuddling.”

A small chuckle escapes him. “Maybe,” he admits, not even trying to argue, because it’s not entirely untrue.

He reaches down beside him then, grabbing the white plastic bag he brought and placing it carefully in your lap. He didn’t think much while picking things up, just whatever might help, whatever you might need.

“Here.”

“Thank you, baby… you’re the best.”

He leans in to kiss you without thinking, drawn in by habit, by the simple need to take care of you—but you stop him, your fingers catching lightly on his collar before he can press the kiss onto your lips.

“I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He pauses, just for a second because he understands.

But it doesn’t change anything.

His gaze lingers on your face.

“I’m not going to get sick, you silly,” he says softly, like it’s already decided. Like there’s no point arguing it.

And before you can say anything-

“Just let me hold you.”

He shifts onto the bed beside you, pulling the blanket over himself as his arm wraps around your shoulders and the other settling at your waist.

You give in almost immediately. You always do.

Your head rests against his chest, your body relaxing into his like it belongs there, and he adjusts slightly to make you more comfortable.

“…you’re warm,” you mumble.

He lets out a quiet breath of a laugh, the sound low and steady against you.

“Good,” he murmurs, tightening his hold just slightly. “That’s the point.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

helloooo, i came back from a long pause lol (struggled to find inspiration and time). Anyways I love Dino so much that I want to write something about him. I really like the fact that he is the responsible one but still a bit childish :3

Anyways hope you enjoyed it! <3