i am a very famous model

Surprise

pairing: Lin x reader

requests:  “Anonymous asked: Can I have a request where the reader is Lin’s wife and she’s a famous model and she and Lin throw their 1 year old a surprise birthday party!!” and “Anonymous asked: I must counteract this angst!!! I DEMAND FLUFF!!!! OR ANGST WITH A FLUFFY ENDING!!!”

summary: Throwing a surprise birthday party for your 1-year-old son isn’t an easy task.

This is…. very mediocre. It’s not fluff, it’s not angst, it’s not really anything? Why am I so bad at this writing thing tbh. Anyways, enjoy this thing that doesn’t even deserve to be posted because it’s THAT bad

You entered your home, exhausted from arguing with the shooting director, to hear a frantic Lin on the phone.

“Yes, I understand, the cake you have is red because it’s Wilson themed. I heard you.”

His voice was edged with frustration, but you could tell he was still straining for politeness. Lin and his stubborn desire to put on a kind face to everyone.

“The thing is, sir, my son likes Brewster better, so could you please use the blue and yellow colour scheme instead? Yes, I’ll pay extra, just please- okay. Thank you.”

He clicked off the phone and sank onto the couch, massaging his forehead. “The things I do for my son,” he groaned wearily.

“You know you love him,” you said, grinning, knowing it was true. Sebastian’s loud wailing rang across the room. You shared a look with Lin and knew that you both were thinking the same thing.

“Nose goes,” you grinned, touching your nose.

“Oh, come on! Seriously? You can’t play nose goes with two people!”

You shrugged, propping your feet on the table and sticking out a tongue at him. It was stupid how immature the two of you were with things like this. It was like having a baby didn’t change either of you.

He gave you a wide-eyed, exasperated look and stood up, flicking your nose as left.


“The one candle is finished!” you yelled over the phone, tucking your phone between your ear and your neck.

“Can you go to another store? We need the one candle, he’s turning one, for Christ’s sake,” he replied, evidently distressed.

“I’m on a five-minute-break from my shoot, you idiot. I have 2 minutes left. Lucifer’s gonna kill me.”

Lucien, the shooting director, was a reincarnation of Satan sent to you gift-wrapped in a pretty face. The night after you met him, you ranted about him to Lin while he made you three cups of tea, each of them a different flavour. Lin asked you what his name was, and then immediately named him Lucifer. You two could’ve been high schoolers with how you nicknamed everyone you were annoyed with.

“Fine, I’ll look for it after this meeting. Give Lucifer hell for me,” Lin said happily.

You clicked off the phone and ran back to the building.

“You’re late, (Y/N). That’s unprofessional.” You looked up to face Lucien and gave him a practiced smile.

You put on your outfit, clenching your fists to stop yourself from smacking him. “I had things to do.”


You were good at keeping secrets. Lin, unfortunately, wasn’t.

You were emailing a fashion company with Sebastian on your lap when Lin entered the house. He had the Chuggington cake in his arms.

You looked up with warning eyes, and Lin realised his mistake nearly too late. When he saw Sebastian on your lap, he stopped in his tracks abruptly, nearly dropping the cake. Thankfully, Sebastian was busy watching TV.

With wide eyes, Lin silently walked backwards towards the front door again. He looked so dumb doing it that you burst into laughter. Sebastian looked at you, followed your line of vision and saw Lin with the cake.

Lin’s eyes growing impossibly wider, he did a half-pirouette and stood with his back to Sebastian, hunching over the cake.

“Dad?” Sebastian asked, confused.

“I’m holding, uh, 18+ stuff,” Lin said quickly, walking towards your bedroom backwards. “Very bad for kids. Adult thing.”

Sebastian launched himself out of his seat and ran after Lin. Lin panicked and sprinted into the nearest room, which was your bathroom, getting in and closing the door with his back.

Ever the well-mannered child, Sebastian paused in front of the door and knocked. “Dad?”

There was silence for a while, then a flushing sound. You had a very, very bad feeling about where Lin was going to put the cake. Was it tempting fate if you guessed that Lin would drain the warm bath that you had prepared for yourself, with your favourite bath salts, so he could put the cake in the bathtub?

Lin opened the door. “Yeah, kiddo. Sorry.” He picked up Sebastian and sat down next to you. Once Sebastian’s attention was on the TV again, Lin whispered in your ear.

“I had to drain the bath that you prepared so I could put the cake in the bathtub.”


One thing you hated about going out in public was seeing your face everywhere. You didn’t mind the fans, or the autographs, but you were uncomfortable with seeing your face enlarged three times on a billboard. Chris was with Sebastian so you and Lin could finalize the party.

Lin was big on affection in public, especially when guys would notice you and take pictures of you. He’d scared off a couple of male fans by giving them the stink eye whenever their eyes lingered on you a beat too long.  “I like seeing your face in billboards. Your regular face is already beautiful. On billboards, they’re thrice the size, so it’s like beautiful times three,” he said with his arm around your shoulder.


Lin was inside the house with everyone. Sebastian was with you. Everything was ready. Finally.

“Happy birthday, Sebastian!” everyone chorused as Lin flicked the lights on. You walked inside the room with Sebastian in your arms. His tiny face broke into a gleeful smile upon seeing the faces of his family and friends.

“Birth-day,” he pronounced carefully, staring up at you.

“Birthday indeed,” Lin said. He walked over to you and scooped up his son into his arms. He bent down so that Sebastian was at eye level with his Chuggington cake.

Sebastian slapped the model train, grinning. It toppled over and smashed the fondant on the cake. “Bew-ste!” he yelled.

“All right!” Lin intervened. “Before little me destroys the cake, let’s blow the candle!”

He puckered his mouth and mimed blowing a candle. Sebastian imitated him, but the candle didn’t blow.

“Papa,” he frowned, trying to blow the candle again to no avail.

Lin raised his eyebrows significantly to Chris, who was closest to the cake. Years of performing together gave them some sort of telepathy, so Chris understood immediately.

Sebastian blew the candle again, and Chris sneakily blew the candle from Sebastian’s side, so the flame died. Sebastian laughed happily, oblivious to Chris’ help, and slapped Lin across the face.

He grimaced, his right cheek turning pink. The guests settled into the seats, and Lin walked around, showing off his son to everyone. You heard him say ‘look at my son!’ at least once every five minutes.

“I loved your latest ad!” Jasmine smiled, taking a slice of the cake.

“Really? I thought it was pretty bland,” you admitted. Lucien, the director from hell, claimed that his brand had its own distinct style. You thought his brand was the typical monochrome millennial fashion.

“The outfits, maybe, but you looked amazing,” she gushed.

“I second that. I’m still not over the fact that you, a hot model, married the world’s most famous nerd,” Oak agreed, appearing next to you.

“I’m the only person who gets to call my wife hot, thank you very much.”

Lin was walking over to you, Sebastian on his hip. He placed an arm around your waist and pulled you into a long kiss.

“You’re scarring the kid,” Chris said, pulling Sebastian into his arms. Sebastian grinned instantly. He loved attention, just like his father.

Lin tucked his hands inside his pockets thoughtfully and turned to Oak, looking suddenly shy.

“Every day I wake up, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am,” Lin said in a low voice, thinking you couldn’t hear him. Oak laughed softly, muttering something that sounded like ‘whipped’. You continued your conversation with Jasmine, something fluttering in your stomach.

Lin watched you laugh at your own joke and he sighed quietly, shaking his head at Oak. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

You smiled to yourself.

  • someone: wyd
  • me: thinking about how I never see any women with the same body as me and all the photos of models with almost the same body type are intensely effeminate and I'm not that effeminate all the time so I'm not as beautiful as them but I also reject that because I am beautiful but also I'm not because none of the famous fat girls I see are not feminine and don't have a big belly and not that big of boobs so they look balanced but I look like a 46 year old dad with a beer gut and it's very frustrating because I would like to love myself and then I remember how no one ever likes the masc fat girl and I get discouraged and go back to bed
  • me: nothing wbu
When I started I didn’t know anything about photography. I was lucky: my girlfriend was a model, someone saw my pictures, liked them and invited me to Vogue UK to talk about the meaning of being a real photographer. That’s how I became a photographer, by chance. And I really liked that job, because everyday there was a different woman coming into my studio. Unfortunately I constantly fell in love with each one of them, and when I had to go back home I felt very depressed. I had a lot of success very quickly, I went to New York, I became famous. However, underneath I am still an amateur, and I like it. I remember I was once with Linda Evangelista: I was watching her in the eye from behind my camera and she was doing the same with me; I told her “open your mouth”, she did that and I thought: “Oh God. How can she be that sexy?.” The best thing is that when you are watching a woman through the camera lens and she’s watching you back from the other side, it’s like entering another world, where everything is possible, where you are in control of reality. You can become a Fellini, a Hitchcock.
—  Miles Aldridge