jacob elordi x interviewer!reader
Off The Record
the room is colder than she expects.
overlit, too — the kind of lighting that makes everything feel a little too sharp, a little too staged. she adjusts the papers in her lap, even though she doesn’t really need them, glancing down at her questions just to steady herself.
she’s done interviews before.
bigger ones than this, even.
but still.
it’s him.
the door opens, and suddenly the room feels smaller.
he steps in like he belongs everywhere he goes — easy, quiet confidence, a soft “hey” directed at no one in particular before his eyes land on her.
and then they stay there.
for just a second longer than necessary.
“hi,” she says, standing a little too quickly, then mentally kicking herself for it.
he smiles.
not big. not over the top. just enough to make it worse.
“hi.”
they settle across from each other, camera crew shifting around them, last-minute adjustments happening in the background.
she tries to focus.
she really does.
“okay,” she says, glancing down briefly before looking back up at him. “i’m here with Jacob Elordi—”
“unfortunately,” he mutters under his breath.
it throws her off just enough that she laughs, the sound slipping out before she can stop it.
“starting strong,” she says, raising a brow.
“i try.”
and just like that, it’s easier.
the questions start normal.
career, recent projects, the usual press circuit routine.
he answers well — thoughtful, a little sarcastic, occasionally deflecting in a way that makes her want to push just a bit more.
and she does.
“you’re… kind of an anomaly online,” she says at one point, tilting her head slightly. “you’re everywhere, but also nowhere.”
he hums, leaning back slightly in his chair. “that sounds ominous.”
“i mean it in a good way,” she insists quickly. “you don’t really post, you don’t engage much, but you still have this—” she gestures vaguely, searching for the right word. “—massive hold on people.”
his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile.
“a hold?” he repeats.
“don’t act like you don’t know,” she says, narrowing her eyes playfully. “it’s very mysterious. people love that.”
“is that what it is?” he asks, voice lighter now.
“partially,” she shrugs. “the rest is just…” she hesitates for half a second, then commits, “you.”
there’s a beat.
a small one
but it lingers.
his gaze shifts, just slightly more focused now, like he’s actually looking at her instead of through the interview.
“dangerous thing to say on camera,” he murmurs.
she smiles. “i’ll take the risk.”
somewhere along the way, it stops feeling like an interview.
the questions blur into conversation, the structure loosening without either of them acknowledging it.
he asks her things back.
not in a performative way — in a curious way.
what she likes about her job. how long she’s been doing it. if she actually enjoys interviews or just pretends to.
“i enjoy good ones,” she says.
he tilts his head. “and this is?”
she pretends to think about it, tapping her pen lightly against her notebook. “still deciding.”
he huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “harsh.”
“you’ll survive.”
“barely.”
by the time the crew starts wrapping up, there’s a strange reluctance in the air.
like something’s being cut off a little too early.
“that’s all i’ve got,” she says finally, even though she definitely could’ve kept going.
he nods, but he doesn’t move right away.
neither does she.
there’s this pause — not awkward, just… unfinished.
“so,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “do i make the cut for a ‘good one’?”
she smiles, softer now. “yeah. you do.”
“good,” he nods once, then hesitates for a fraction of a second before adding, “i’d hate to disappoint.”
she laughs quietly. “i think your reputation’s safe.”
“my mysterious hold?” he teases.
“exactly.”
another pause.
this one different.
quieter.
“you know,” he says, almost casually, “you didn’t ask for my number.”
it catches her off guard completely.
“that’s… not usually part of the job,” she says, raising a brow.
“maybe it should be.”
she studies him for a second, trying to decide if he’s serious.
he is.
“are you saying my interview skills weren’t enough?” she challenges lightly.
“i’m saying,” he replies, just as calm, “i wouldn’t mind continuing the conversation when there aren’t cameras around.”
her heart does something stupid.
annoying.
but she keeps her expression steady, even if her fingers tighten slightly around her pen.
“bold,” she says.
“i’ve been told.”
then she reaches for her phone.
“okay,” she says, unlocking it and holding it out toward him. “don’t make me regret it.”
he takes it without hesitation, typing something in before handing it back.
their fingers brush. brief but noticeable.
“i won’t,” he says.
and the way he says it — easy, certain — makes it feel less like a line and more like a promise.
dividers: @diviniyae @chrisssiren
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @lcversvoid @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @cokewithcameron @drewrry @harubunnyy @lifeonawhim @usseraloo
