Tate McRae x Reader oneshots

Interrupted

It was mid-afternoon, and Y/n L/n was lying on his couch, a guitar balanced across his lap. His mind was miles away, in that strange, casual haze of boredom and daydreams that filled up the hours between studio sessions and gigs. His phone buzzed at his side, but it wasn't the kind of call he'd been hoping for—a reminder about an interview, an email with some edits to his new song, or anything pressing. Just the notification of another random thought popping up in his head.

And that's when it struck him.

Y/n's lips quirked in a mischievous smile as he opened his phone, swiped to Tate's number, and hit "Call." He didn't have anything serious to say, but Tate had a way of indulging his half-baked ideas and ridiculous thoughts. That's part of why he loved her.

On the other side of town, Tate McRae was in the middle of an interview. It was her third one of the day, and although she was trying her best to stay lively, she was starting to feel the telltale tug of exhaustion. Smiling and answering questions about her recent album, her inspirations, and her upcoming tour, she leaned forward to listen closely as the interviewer set up the next question.

Just then, her phone rang. She glanced down at the screen and instantly recognized Y/n's contact name. Her thumb hovered over the "Decline" button, but on a whim, she decided to answer. If it was important, she'd hate to ignore him. And anyway, what was the worst that could happen?

"Hang on one second," she said apologetically to the interviewer, giving him a friendly nod. Then, in a quick motion, she answered the call and put it on speaker. "Hey, Y/n, what's up?" she asked, trying to balance her professionalism with a hint of playfulness.

"Hey, babe!" Y/n's voice came through loud and clear. "So, I was thinking... and this is kind of random, but... do you think penguins have, like, a favorite person?"

Tate blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Wait, what?"

The interviewer chuckled, clearly entertained by the unexpected interruption. Tate shot him an apologetic look, but he shook his head, signaling that it was all good. He seemed to be more amused than anything, watching Tate handle this sudden break in the usual routine.

"Yeah," Y/n continued, blissfully unaware he was on speaker for Tate's entire interview crew to hear. "I read this article that said penguins sometimes bring pebbles to each other as, like, a gift or a sign of affection or something. So... if you were a penguin, do you think I'd be your favorite, or would you go and pick some other penguin with better pebbles?"

Tate tried to stifle a laugh, her eyes darting to the interviewer, who was leaning forward with a wide grin, clearly eating up this unexpected moment. She decided to play along, still not letting Y/n in on the fact that he was, indeed, performing for a small audience.

"Hmm... well, that depends, I guess. Do you think you'd bring me the best pebbles?"

Y/n hesitated. "Well, yeah, obviously. I'd bring you the best pebble in the whole rookery—whatever that is."

The interviewer let out a hearty laugh at that, and Tate shot him a smile as if to say, He's like this all the time.

Y/n continued, still oblivious, "I don't know, though. I feel like I'd see some other penguin show up with a shiny shell or something, and I'd be like, 'Oh, come on, you can't bring a shell into this. It's pebbles-only.' You'd probably leave me for some penguin with a whole jewelry collection."

"Oh, so now I'm the kind of penguin who wants fancy things?" Tate teased, her eyes twinkling.

"Hey, I didn't say that," Y/n protested. "You're classy, though. I'd at least have to bring something interesting."