#tracks & lyrics under cut

[xinganhao]

🎭 svt when idol!reader releases a breakup song.

anon → "may i request when idol!s/o releases a breakup song? maybe for like a promotion or a comeback but not because of svt iykwim"

⌗ ┆ i have a soft spot for my earlier idol!reader work so it was fun to revisit them <3 a little more crack, less headcanons than usual lol

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: idol!reader, f!reader, established relationship, pet names, fluff, crack, [short] headcanons under the cut.

🎭 headcanons .ᐟ

— drama line ✩ seungcheol, junhui, mingyu, vernon.

all the boys are bound to kick up a fuss one way or another, but nobody throws a tantrum like choi seungcheol. that man will be on your case for weeks. "why couldn't it have been a love song? why are you so good at singing about breakups?" junhui is equally dramatic, though in a different manner. he goes down the route of spite. the song is officially banned in the dorms. if anyone plays it in his vicinity, he will honest-to-goodness glare them down. as far as he's concerned, you have no reason to be crooning about situationships when you have a perfectly good partner waiting for you at home! mingyu is in the exact same boat, by the way. he is personally offended. he knows he's been a good boyfriend. and you're out here singing like he's broken your heart? oh, hell no. mingyu is going to get ridiculously over the top with his boyfriendisms to prove a point to— well, maybe just to himself. in contrast to the rest, vernon takes a different approach. a little moral high road, if you will. he doesn't whine about it, but he does get— in the other boys' words— 'emo' about the whole thing. an instagram rebrand? frank ocean being one of his top artists of the month? ... you get the picture.

— sweetheart line ✩ joshua, soonyoung, wonwoo, seokmin, minghao, seungkwan.

a good number of the boys would take the breakup song with relative grace. joshua is aware that it's strictly work, but he doesn't miss out on the opportunity to tease you a bit about it. he'll take any opportunity to remind you of how much he cares about you, even if it is in a roundabout sort of way. wonwoo usually errs more on the side of rationality, too, though this breakup song scares him just a teensy bit. he doesn't bother you about it; he'll cope in his own little way until he comes around. (he's not opposed to reaffirmations of your love, though.) at this point? soonyoung and seungkwan can be a comedy act, really. we have soonyoung apologizing for every little thing he's done, just so he can ascertain that you will not be writing about him in your next album. and then we have seungkwan who assumes the song is a not-so subliminal message of some sorts; he is immensely relieved when you tell him that you're not, in fact, ending things via comeback. and the sweetest of them all. seokmin doesn't care if it's a four minute song. he'll take apart every single lyric, offering you reassurances that you don't even need, until you have a hard time performing the song with sincerity because your boyfriend has made it much less convincing. meanwhile, minghao spends hours ruminating before just asking outright. he's a bit shy at the fact that he's potentially overthought this, although he'd much rather be overprepared on being a good boyfriend than fall on the other end of the coin.

— revenge line ✩ jeonghan, jihoon, chan.

did you think jeonghan was kidding about couple's therapy? absolutely not. booking a session for the two of you is, in part, a joke, sure. but he's also a believer in therapy, anyway, so it becomes one of your... admittedly weirder dates, but there are certainly worse ways to unpack this non-issue. jihoon and chan stick to what they know best. jihoon's teasing of a 'response' song just means that there's going to be a certain track in the next mini-album that may or may not answer the questions/refute the claims/reassures the worries of your breakup ballad. he's classy that way. chan, on the other hand, has a lot less finesse. he's not so subtle in the way he literally makes up a routine— is it a slow song? he'll do contemporary, then!— and posts it for everyone to see. he needs everyone to know that he is unbothered. flourishing. in his lane.

[alittlebitofsainz]

- he kissed me right in front of my friends -

prompt: “i threw a party, he kissed me right in front of my friends, i felt so far from the cliffs.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: if you could have one birthday wish granted, it would be that you no longer had to hide your relationship.

a/n: lyrics from track #89 there it goes by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“hey, happy birthday baby!”

you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a soft smile as lando pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding out a bag full of presents as he stepped inside your apartment. you accepted it graciously, eyes wide at the sheer number of gifts.

“lan, you really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “for my special girl.”

he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, but you quickly batted him away.

“careful, lan, people might see!” you giggled, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. it had been eight months of keeping your relationship under wraps, and while you both understood why it had to be that way, it still didn’t make it easy. it was moments like these where you yearned for a normal relationship, one where your partner wasn’t in the spotlight, one where he could give you a kiss on your birthday and it wouldn’t be plastered all over social media the next day. but it was worth it, you thought as you looked up at lando’s face, eagerly waiting for you to open your presents. it was worth it to call him yours, even if it was only in secret.

yeah, it was worth it, you thought, as you watched lando laughing uncontrollably at something max had said, the two of them stationed behind the dj booth you’d hired for the party. in general, lando didn’t go much on drinking, and he’d sworn off djing for the most part, but he was willing to make exceptions for your special day, and you smiled to see him enjoying himself. your best friend followed your gaze, noticing you phasing out of the group conversation you were in, and nudged you.

“you’re staring, y/n. you totally fancy him.” she teased, and for a moment you almost slipped up, you almost replied with yeah, I really do. but you caught yourself, instead laughing it off with a sharp shake of your head, elbowing her right back.

“knock it off, we’re just mates.” you protested, but your friend arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that suggested that she didn’t quite believe you. she opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights shut off and the music cut out. you instinctively glanced over back towards the dj booth, eyes searching for lando, confused to find him gone. but the confusion only lasted for a moment as a glow of light emerged from the kitchen; twenty lit candles pressed into a cake, held up by lando as he brought it across the room towards you, all your friends joining in and singing happy birthday to you. you grinned, feeling tears prick your eyes. god, you’d never been happier. there was only one thing that could’ve made this day more incredible, and you sighed to yourself as you watched lando bring the cake closer, lowering it slightly so you could blow out the candles. his eyes locked on yours for just a moment, and you swore you felt your heart stop.

“make a wish.” he murmured.

you blew out the candles, earning a cheer and a few hip hip hoorays from your friends gathered around you. lando set the cake down on the table, another friend stepping in to help cut and distribute it to guests, allowing you just a moment to talk whilst everyone was distracted.

“what did you wish for?” he asked, voice low, making you lean in to be able to hear him above the music which had started up again. you arched an eyebrow.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true.” you retorted, the corner of your lips curving up into a wry smile. it always gave you butterflies, flirting with lando in public. something about it made you feel like you were still in that stage where anything could happen, like you were just starting to get to know him all over again. his expression changed slightly as he reached into his back pocket.

“now don’t yell at me, but I got you one last present.”

“lando!” you protested; you’d already admonished him earlier after you’d opened all your gifts from him. you could tell he’d spent a lot of money, more than you believed you deserved, on anything you’d ever mentioned wanting. shoes, a nice handbag, a designer coat, expensive earrings. but it wasn’t just material things, he’d got tickets to than gig you mentioned you wanted to go to, taken out an annual membership for the gardens you always liked going to for some peace and quiet, donated money to the shelter your parents adopted the family dog from. it was far too much, yet lando insisted it wasn’t enough to show you how much he loved you.

“I said don’t yell at me!” he replied playfully, producing a small wrapped item and holding it out to you, “it’s not an expensive one. it’s just… well, just open it and see.”

you peeled off the wrapping paper with gentle fingers, the package feeling so delicate in your hands compared to all the other larger gifts he’d showered you with. it revealed a gold necklace, with a single ‘L’ hanging from the chain. you looked at it, awestruck, running a finger over the gold letter.

“lan, this is beautiful.” you murmured softly.

“to remind you how much I love you, even if I can’t always show it.” he explained softly, and you felt a lump form in your throat. it was so bittersweet, you thought, as he took the necklace from your hands and instructed you to turn around so he could fasten it round your neck. the necklace was like some sort of twisted metaphor for your relationship, always there but often hidden. you turned back to face him, glancing down to admire the jewellery for a moment. if people saw this, it wouldn’t take them long to join the dots, to make the connection, especially if you were next to lando. you sighed, reaching to take the ‘L’ between your fingers and tuck it under your top, to hide it away. but lando’s hand was on yours in an instant, holding it in place, his fingers clasped round yours, clasped round the golden letter. you looked up in surprise.

“don’t hide it.” he said softly, “fuck it. I want people to see it. I want them to know.”

the confidence with which he had said it startled you, but in the best way. you barely had time to process the words before his hand had snaked around your waist, pulling you to him, his lips on yours in an instant. it wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a kiss that let everyone know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were his, and he was yours.

you pulled away for a moment, eyes on him, but in your peripheral vision you clocked a few of your friends watching the two of you, mouths open, slices of cake forgotten about. your best friend had a smug grin on her face, one that said that she knew all along. you saw max begrudgingly slip pietra a ten pound note. lando saw it too, and laughed. and then you laughed. and then you kissed him again.

“happy birthday.” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“I got my birthday wish.” you murmured in reply.

a/n: and thus concludes the little ‘just friends’ mixtape! check out the previous tracks below:

told her you were just a friend | just don’t want your friend to see

[xoluvx]

kiss it, bite it; b.eilish

love the anon who requested this one 💚

"Is it gayer than lunch?" You glanced at Billie who was blushing profusely. She laughed and placed her hand on your thigh. She still hadn't answered your question. In fact, she'd been avoiding it for weeks. You knew she was working with Charli, but she hadn't uttered a single word about her verse.

"Nod if that's a yes," you didn't take your eyes off her. She simply hung her hand over the steering wheel, smiled goofily, and squeezed your thigh before shaking it.

She wasn't going to fold.

When you finally got to set, Billie held your hand as you walked together. The curiosity was eating at you, you couldn't stop biting on your bottom lip.

"Why are you so nervous?" Billie asked turning to look at you. She tugged at your chin so you'd stop biting your lip. When she noticed the indentations of your teeth, she rubbed your lip gently trying to get the blood flowing. Your blood was flowing alright. She'd mentioned a mountain of underwear on the car ride. Let that sink in: a mountain of underwear.

"I'm not nervous," you buried your face into her arm and she chuckled placing a hand behind your head, kissing the top of it.

And you weren't nervous. But what you should've been was prepared because you were currently standing to the side listening to the track, watching your girlfriend voice words that were making you extremely flustered and what was she saying about pulling them to the side and getting all up in it?

Were you hearing that correctly? You tried to stifle a cough thanks to almost choking on your saliva. You fanned your face with your hand. Was the temperature rising? Good god that's why she didn't want you to hear her verse beforehand.

That little -

"Cut," Billie stepped behind the viewfinder looking at the playback. She pointed at something, her voice was low as you tried collecting yourself. Or maybe you were still processing the lyrics. All you know is that you jumped a little when she came to your side, startled.

"You okay?" she teased brushing your cheek, tilting her head and feigning innocence as if she hadn't just told everyone the type of underwear she very proudly bought for you.

"It's gayer than lunch," you whispered, your voice trailing off as you stared into the distance. Frozen once again. The lyrics ran through your head like a complicated mathematical equation.

Billie's laugh brought you back to earth and you turned to look at her, mouth open waiting for an explanation.

"What?" she shrugged.

"That lacy black pair with the little bows?" you raised your brow pursing your lips. Still waiting.

"The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo," she whispered booping your nose before grabbing your hips. You groaned hearing it come directly from her mouth. This woman was painting all sorts of pictures in your mind and you were not in the position to act on them.

You looked at her with big eyes, your lip tucked under your teeth again. Billie noticed the change in your breathing and dug her fingers into your hips pulling you closer.

"Don't you have to get back?" you asked noticing the way your voice dipped low, your eyes dropping to her lips as she licked them.

"We need to do a few more takes and we’re waiting for Charli," Billie replied pushing her pelvis against your body urging you to groan again, your hands now gripping her arms.

"How long-" you asked fluttering your lashes unable to control the urge to kiss her right here, right now. To get down on your knees for her.

"Come," she whispered, squeezing your ass before taking your hand. Oh, you intended to.

She glanced at her surroundings before dragging you to an empty part of the set. A house of sorts. Maybe this is where they were filming next. Your thoughts were interrupted when her hands found your hips, fingers digging into your jeans, lips fervently trapping yours in a kiss.

If you weren't so fucking horny right now you'd be a lot more cautious about where you were, but her lips were tracing your jaw and her fingers were unbuttoning your jeans. You breathed a sigh of relief when she cupped your pussy. You had a time constraint and you both knew it.

Billie smiled against your neck, her tongue rotating on your skin before devouring. Her finger pushed your underwear to the side, running a finger between your folds. You moaned wrapping your arms tighter around her neck until you felt her finger enter your pussy.

"Oh my god," you hummed tossing your head back giving her ample access to your neck. Her tongue ran along your throat and under your chin before finding your lips again. They messily joined in a battle for dominance, tongues tussling. Your hands losing themselves in her hair.

Two fingers deep and you moved your hips, grinding against her hand as your whimpers fueled Billie's fire.

"Fuck, hold on" Billie whispered. Her voice hoarse. She removed her fingers and you whined in response. She tugged at your jeans bringing them down. You kicked them off as she slipped off your underwear placing them in her back pocket.

She pushed you against the wall. Through hooded eyelids, you watched as she got on her knees. Your lip found its favorite place, tucked between your teeth as she raised your leg groaning at the sight of your wet pussy.

The previous two fingers that'd inhabited your pussy found their way home and you arched your back pushing your back off the wall as her tongue joined the reunion.

The flat of her tongue pressed on your clit as her fingers moved steadily, filling you so gloriously. You could no longer stifle your moans when her tongue started to rotate on your clit. It moved with purpose. Up and down. Side to side. Until you were putty in her hands.

Your hands fisted her hair pushing her face closer to your cunt as the pace of her fingers increased. She was knuckles deep in your pussy when her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking.

"I need you to cum baby," she mumbled against your pussy. Her voice rippled through your body, tingles running down your legs. You'd forgotten where you were. Why you were here. Your world right now only consisted of you, Billie, and that marvelous wonderful tongue of hers.

"I'm almost there," your voice cracked as you pulled on her hair. Her own moans were sending shivers up your spine. Her fingers were slowing, but they were so deep in your pussy you didn’t need her to move. But she did. She moved them in a ‘come here’ motion pressing on your g spot. The walls were caving, your heart was racing. Her tongue was lapping.

She grabbed your ass with her free hand pulling you closer to her face as she worked her tongue in unimaginable ways. You shut your eyes feeling the heat build and build until you were in flames.

“I’m-“ you breathed heavily fisting her hair.

“I’m gonna c-cum,” you were out of breath and surprised you were able to announce your orgasm. Your legs were quivering as you slid down the wall, but Billie held the back of your thigh, trying to hold you up.

Your walls collapsing around her fingers, she could feel you throbbing, walls wet from your release. Her teeth grazed your inner thigh, biting down gently before soothing the area with her tongue.

You winced as she pulled out her fingers and groaned when they disappeared between her lips. Her plump, kissable, fuckable lips were discarding the proof of what had happened in this makeshift house.

Billie wiped her fingers on her jeans before grabbing yours from the floor. You weakly stepped into your pants as she pulled them up. You helped her button them still processing what’d just happened. She stood and kissed you slowly letting you get a taste of yourself on her tongue. You hummed against her lips letting her tongue slide into your mouth. You wrapped an around her neck as she held your chin.

“I wanna try it. Bite it. Lick it. Spit it.” She recited the words like a chant as she kissed your lips, along jaw, up your neck, and your earlobe. You felt the spark in your belly ready to ignite again.

“Let’s go,” she tapped your hips pulling you from the wall you were leaning on.

“Wait, let fix your hair,” you muttered flatting the pieces of hair that’d previously been laced in your fingers. You brushed your fingers through her hair. Fantasizing and thinking of her tongue and her silky strands at the tips of your fingertips and how you wanted more.

“Come on,” she snapped you out of it tapping your ass. Her fingers laced with yours. You whined trailing behind her. She turned back to look at you cheekily when the sun hit your eyes and you groaned.

You weren’t going to survive the rest of this shoot.

A few minutes later the music was playing again and Billie's lips were moving, those lips that were previously sucking and wrapping around your most sensitive parts. She was hopping off the tractor and there in her pocket were your underwear. They hung from her pocket like she'd picked them up from the mountain of underwear and decided those were her favorite and worthy of screen time.

In your lust struck trance you hadn’t noticed her sneak them away. Or realized you hadn’t put them back on. You felt your body flush again. The heat rushing between your legs.

You were entranced, caught under her spell. She played it up for the camera, but your chest was growing tighter by the second and your underwear…wait. Scratch that. Your jeans felt really uncomfortable now.

You swallowed and looked around hoping nobody was noticing your sexual frustration. But nothing went unnoticed by Billie.

She looked directly at the camera as you stood behind the viewfinder. For one of the takes, she took your underwear from her pocket holding it in her index finger. She sung along to the track ‘kiss it, bite it, can I fit it?’ playing with your underwear.

For a millisecond she glanced at you. You felt her looking beyond the camera at your fragile state before placing the underwear back in her pocket.

She wasn’t leaving those on set.

They were coming home with her. And you were coming too. Again and again. Til the moon descended and the sun rose.

*part two*

[midnightsslut]

A Guide to Red - The Quintessential Taylor Swift Album

After the release of The Manuscript, the role of Red and Red (Taylor’s Version) in Taylor’s life and discography has been highly discussed. A lot of people have referred to it as her magnum opus and most formative album. I have decided to compile a condensed list of about a dozen key interviews, performances, speeches, posts, and videos from 2011 all the way until 2024 that illustrate the importance of this record for Taylor’s personal life and career. I’m putting the list under a cut because it got pretty long. You don’t have to go through all of these, obviously, but I would suggest at least one per era. The bolded ones are essential in my opinion.

Pre-Red - These interviews hint at Taylor’s emotional state at the time and thus the content that will be explored on the Red album

2011 The New Yorker profile

Taylor Swift reveals new album is all about heartbreak - Extra TV

Bonus: an article going through Taylor’s arm lyrics on the Speak Now World Tour, which she described as mood rings for any particular show

Lover diary entries from the making of Red (credit to @cabincreaking for the scans)

- All Too Well lyrics first draft (February 2011)

- Random bursts of happiness and anxiety during the Speak Now Tour (June 17, 2011)

- Red (September 8, 2011)

- Holy Ground (February 2012)

- Nothing New (March 2, 2012)

- Working with Max Martin (June 10, 2012)

Red era - Listen to the original sixteen songs on the Red album at this point.

Red announcement livestream + Q&A

Red prologue

2012 Rolling Stone interview

2012 The Guardian interview

2012 Billboard interview

2012 Esquire interview

Sirius XM Town Hall - an hourlong interview from the day Red came out

Good Morning America - this is the first mention of the ten-minute version of All Too Well

Red track-by-track descriptions

Random interview where she discusses the connection between writing Speak Now and Red

I Knew You Were Trouble music video

Diary entry about how love is fiction and she might move to New York after all (January 6, 2014)

Diary entry from Grammy night (January 25, 2014)

Red Tour London performance of All Too Well - any performance of this song from 2013-14 will work here, but this one has a pretty comprehensive speech

Final performance of All Too Well on the Red Tour - just listen to the speech here

Post-Red era - Over the course of these interviews, you’ll see her relationship to the album evolve.

Taylor’s description of Clean (skip to 11:18)

2014 BBC Live Lounge interview

1989 World Tour interview where she mentions thinking she’d never sell as many albums as she did with Red before 1989 came out

Clean speech - a lot of these will work, but these two best describe her relationship with the Red era and heartbreak in general

All Too Well (The 1989 World Tour live)

2015 GrammyPro interview

All Too Well Super Saturday Night performance

Reputation Tour All Too Well speech

Red into Daylight performance - 2019 City of Lover concert in Paris

Re-recordings era - at this point, listen to the red vault

2020 Rolling Stone podcast

Red (Taylor’s Version) prologue

2021 Saturday Night Live performance

All Too Well: The Short Film + Behind the Scenes

Seth Meyers interview

2022 Tribeca film talk OR TIFF (both are equally good. I have a slight preference for the former, but there are some interesting new details in the latter). You could also watch directors on directors from the same year as a bonus, but it’s less comprehensive.

2022 Graham Norton - How All Too Well (10 Minute Version) came about + how the re-recordings inspired Midnights

Also listen to Midnights

The Eras Tour

All Too Well speech (Glendale Night 2 & Atlanta Night 1) - any of the speeches from March and April 2023 will work, but these two really illustrate how she feels about this time in her life now and how the fans changed the Red album for her. Obviously credit to @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes for the transcripts!

Maroon first ever live performance (‘This is a song about something that happened a long time ago, but it took place in New York’)

Aaaand finally listen to The Tortured Poets Department, especially The Manuscript

This is a lot, but it’s worth it. Enjoy!

[33piastri]

Under the influence | Lando Norris

part two: https://www.tumblr.com/33piastri/761602158807400449/under-the-influence-pt2-ln4

lando norris x reader

summary: After winning the Miami GP, lando is caught up in celebrating at a nightclub, ignoring Y/N. As he enjoys the attention, he doesn’t notice her slipping away. Only later, when it’s too late, he realised that while chasing success, he lost the person who mattered most.

Inspired by the Dutch song: onder invloed - Russo

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

The Miami night was electric, the kind of energy that made you feel invincible. Lando was at the center of it all, the hero of the night, freshly crowned the winner of the Miami GP, and more importantly his first victory. The club was packed, bodies swaying under the strobe lights, drinks flowing freely. The music pounded through the speakers, an intoxicating rhythm that matched the adrenaline still coursing through Lando’s veins.

But for all the noise and celebration around him, Lando was oblivious to the one person who had been by his side through it all—Y/N.

She was there, just like she always had been for the past 4,5 years. But tonight, she was different, quieter, almost invisible in the swirl of people around him, she felt different. She had stood at the edge of the VIP section, watching as Lando drowned in the attention, surrounded by gridmates, friends and fans, everyone eager to get a hold of his glory. But he hadn’t spared his girlfriend a glance since the race ended.

It had been the same at the track earlier that day. Y/N had watched him cross the finish line, her heart pounding with happiness, pride and fear, waiting for that moment when his eyes would seek hers, that look they used to share after every race. But it never came. Instead, he had celebrated with his team, his focus entirely on the win, on the cameras, on everything but her. Y/N learned the heart way that love and sadness, indeed could live close together.

Now, in the club, as she watched him sip on another glass of champagne, laughing with people who didn’t know him the way she did, didn’t support him like she did the sinking feeling in her chest grew heavier. The Lando she knew, the Lando she loved, seemed to be slipping further away with every cheer, every flash of the camera.

The song playing now was one that Y/N knew well, one that seemed to capture her feelings in a way that nothing else could. The lyrics cut through the noise, the truth of them hitting her hard as she listened:

“At night, she’s my dream girl, in the club she’s a baddie, at night I’m head over heels, but during the day, not at all.”

The words echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of how things had changed. She had once been his everything, the person he turned to when the world became too much and he trusted with all his secrets. But now, she was just another pretty face in the crowd, someone to be seen with at night, when the lights were low and the music loud, but forgotten in the harsh light of day, where attention really came to play.

Lando, oblivious to the storm brewing within Y/N, turned to Charles and Daniel, a wide grin on his face. The race had been tough, but he’d pulled through, his first ever win. He felt like he was on top of the world, and tonight was his night to celebrate. Another bottle of champagne was passed his way, and he accepted it with a wink, pouring himself another glass.

But as he did, a flicker of something crossed his mind—Y/N. He hadn’t seen her since the podium, hadn’t really seen her all day, if he was honest. But before he could think about it too much, Daniel grabbed his attention, and the thought was pushed towards the back of his mind once again.

Y/N watched the exchange, her heart tightening and shattering into a thousand pieces. She had never felt more out of place, more forgotten. The realization hit her with a sharp clarity, this wasn’t where she belonged anymore. Lando was drifting further away, caught up in a world she could no longer reach. She didn’t belong with Lando anymore.

Unable to bear it any longer, she turned and slipped out of the VIP section, weaving her way through the crowd, Kika trying to stop her, but she didn’t pay her any attention. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get out, to breathe. The walls of the club felt like they were closing in on her, the music too loud, the lights too bright.

She stepped outside, the cool Miami night air hitting her like a shock, but it wasn’t enough to clear the fog in her mind. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable, the weight of it dragging her down. She had to let go. She had to leave before she lost herself completely.

Meanwhile, inside the club, Lando was still caught up in the celebrations. But as the night wore on, something began to eat at him, a strange sense of emptiness that he couldn’t shake. He looked around again, a little more purposefully this time, searching for the one person who should have been by his side, but hadn’t been for the entire night.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked aloud, a frown creasing his brow.

Carlos shrugged, not noticing the change in Lando’s demeanor. “Dunno, mate. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably around.”

But Lando knew better. There was a sudden, sharp clarity in his mind, the lyrics of the song playing in the background finally piercing through the haze.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself.”

The words echoed in his mind, and suddenly, the weight of the night crashed down on him. He realized he hadn’t been himself—not for a long time. He’d been caught up in the race, in the fame, in everything that came with it, and in doing so, he’d lost sight of the one thing that truly mattered.

Panic set in as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes darting around, searching for her. But she was nowhere to be found. The emptiness inside him grew, a hollow ache that no amount of victory could fill.

“Y/N!” he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the music, by the laughter and cheers that still surrounded him. Desperation clawed at him as he realized what he had done—what he had let slip right through his fingers.

Finally reaching the exit, Lando burst out into the night, his eyes scanning the street frantically. But she was gone. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, the cold truth settling in.

He had won his first ever race, but in doing so, he had lost her. The one person who had always been there, who had always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself.

The Miami night, starting so full of life and energy, now felt empty, cold. Lando stood alone on the sidewalk, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. The taste of victory had turned bitter in his mouth.

He had been under the influence—of fame, of success, of everything but the love that had been right in front of him. And now, it was too late.

The song still played faintly from inside the club, a haunting reminder of what he had lost.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself…”

And for the first time in a long time, Lando felt the full impact of those words, realizing he had become someone even he no longer recognized.

[pityroadart]

Here's my piece for the @mcspirkevents Big Bang! I was paired with the excellent @twinkboimler and their fic Jim Kirk's Guide to Delivering the Goods, which you can find here (E, AOS McSpirk, 60k)

Summer just started, and Jim is bored out of his mind. The courses he needs to take aren’t being offered until the second half of the summer, so he has an entire month to bother his roommate Bones. At Bones’ suggestion to get a job, Jim fixes up a motorbike and starts making deliveries to people in town, including a cute Vulcan professor named Spock. But when Jim is beaten up while making a delivery, it’s Spock who delivers Jim back to the apartment he shares with Bones. After the meet-cute from hell, Spock and Bones start dating… and so do Jim and Spock. With neither roommate aware they’re both dating the same man, there’s only so long that things can go well for them before the other shoe finally drops.

Also as part of my Big Bang offerings, I made a fic playlist (below) — partly a love letter to McSpirk, partly a love letter to myself and Fletcher's overlapping music taste.

Thank you again to Fletcher @twinkboimler for working on this project with me, it's been an absolute joy!

Until the Birds Return on Spotify

Tracks and choice lyrics below the cut (contains vague spoilers):

Astronaut | Future Crib

I wanna be an astronaut Fly into space I wanna see Mars from Venus I wanna go to that place And if you come with me They'll be room in my ship I'll take you up there with me It can be just you and me

Afraid of Heights | boygenius

I never rode a motorcycle I never smoked a cigarette I wanna live a vibrant life But I wanna die a boring death

Day by Day | Old Sea Brigade

Time and time again, I think I'm falling through space And I wake up in my bed just sweating in sheets

... Then I think of you growing old and it breaks my heart

Factories | Autoheart

When you found my body by the lake You wasn't sure if I was still alive

You and Your Friend | Snake River Conspiracy

Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed To the loving happiness that we can share I think I'm in love with you and your friend

My Gal, My Guy | Darlingside

My (guy) he's the bluest ocean, (he) Waits under the bluest sky for me I belong to (him) When I'm in the water

Santa Fe | Autoheart

Heaven sent You were like a present I should not have kept A sticker on your forehead saying 'breakable And I broke you bad

Coat on a Hook | The National

Two days, we're still not talking You're the opposite of an open book Come back for me

Top to Toe | Fenne Lily

So I'm changing all my days To make your nights It's just not right

Pigeon Song | Patrick Wolf

Now the pigeons gather 'round my feeding hand And we talk 'til the evening fades I have learnt how it goes What you wait for never shows And what you least wanted, holds you down like a stone

Hornets | The National

But I don't wanna leave And I don't wanna hide I just don't wanna run Into you tonight

Tea, Milk & Honey | Oh Pep!

If you stick with me, I'll make sure your time is all right If you don't understand where I am now, it's better if we leave it

The Spiritual | Jukebox the Ghost

We might have kissed a bit too soon I could feel what was coming and I didn't mean to hurry you I just knew that time would find our fingers linked, through and through Forgive me, I'm human too

Bike Dream | Rostam

Two boys, one to kiss your neck And one to bring you breakfast Get you out of bed

Don't Go | Yazoo

Can't stop now Don't you know I ain't never gonna let you go

Jenny | The Mountain Goats

I hopped on back of the bike, wrapped my arms around you I sank my face into your hair And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on 900 cc's of raw whining power, no outstanding warrants for my arrest

Old Old Fashioned | Josh Ritter (Frightened Rabbit cover)

Oh let's get old fashioned Back to how things used to be If I get old, old fashioned Would you get old, old fashioned with me?

[bangaveragewhitewine]

the boy is mine (amy's edition)

Written as part of @carolmunson ‘s the boy is mine writing exercise which is such a fun and gorgeous idea!

wc: 1,800

contents: love-sick best friends turned lovers, set in 1985 (there's an angstier version of this in my drafts...), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), Eddie's boner mention, kissing until your lips hurt

notes: Well, I’d love to lie and say that this was a breeze, but writing has been incredibly difficult for me lately. Fighting with myself comes easier than writing these days, but this is a really fabulous idea. Feeling ✨part of something✨ is really special (and a little daunting). Thank you, Carol 🩷

the scene: a romantic night-in at the trailer. 

the guidelines: prompt, props and dialogue are all here 

April 1985

You watch silver smoke curl and melt into the air as the cigarette burns between Eddie’s lips. The scent of it cuts through the lingering fug of weed and sex and sweat. His hands are busy with pen and paper, jotting lyric ideas into his little notebook.

It feels a little bit romantic that he is so inspired after fucking you.

Your chilly feet rub together beneath the covers. It’s hard to resist the urge to stick them between his shins but you don’t want to ruin his artistic flow by shocking him with your arctic toes. 

Fade to Black plays from the boombox on his messy dresser. Eddie had wound the tape back to restart the almost seven-minute track after the first listen-through and grinned unapologetically when you rolled your eyes at him. His head bobs to the beat as he scribbles and you shift your attention to a particularly perfect curl lying across his shoulder, the dark black ink pressed into his skin.

If your camera were closer, you would snap a picture of him. But for now, you store the image of him away in your mind. In twenty, thirty, forty years, you will remember tonight and smile. There’s a whole life ahead of you to plan with him, and you’re pretty sure Eddie wants in on it too. 

“Your Mama never told you it’s rude to stare, princess?” he asks, rereading what he had just spilled onto the page. He clicks the pen three times before folding the notebook closed. His wave of inspiration has peaked and you are, once again, his sole focus. 

“Maybe. Probably.” You shrug one shoulder before taking the cigarette from between his lips.

The way your lips hug the filter makes Eddie’s body thrum to life all over again. When you lean across him to tap off the ash, he takes his chance to pull you against his chest and lock you into his lap, closer than close. The cigarette is left to burn out as you trade smokey, wet kisses back and forth between smiling lips until you are both laughing at nothing, at everything. At that little whiney noise lodged in the back of Eddie’s throat, and the way he taps the opening bars of Trapped Under Ice against your bare body. 

That throaty, dirty laugh makes you feel warm all over. His cheeks are rosy-warm and cherubic when he smiles at you. You want to nibble them but settle on gentle kisses instead. His eyelids and forehead are next, then his nose, before you work your way back to his lips. It’s a tender moment after those almost unstoppable giggles, rib-aching and eye-watering laughter that comes easy when you’re with Eddie - more free-flowing when you’re still a little bit faded. 

“Want the rest of that pizza?” Eddie asks after a few moments. His mouth has been busy kissing your neck and shoulder, and the way his breath catches on damp patches makes you shiver. 

A few more smiling kisses are traded before you vacate the cocoon of body-warm blankets together to don discarded sweaters and underwear. Eddie glues himself to your back in a penguin shuffle to the kitchenette to raid the forgotten pizza box and the stash of munchie-friendly snacks stowed away in the cupboard. 

The formica feels cool against the back of your thighs as you chew thoughtfully on the cooled-off slice. There are empty cans of High Life on the table between the melted candles; Eddie’s romantic ideas of tea lights and the champagne of beers had set the butterflies in your stomach swirling when you stepped into the trailer that evening. The VHS cases and TV remote are lost between the couch cushions and throw pillows, cast aside before you could even decide what to watch in favour of making out hot and heavy. 

Eddie holds up two soup-recipe mugs. “I ran out of like, nice cups, this okay?" he asks. 

The unwashed everyday mugs are abandoned in the sink and Eddie’s own Garfield mug is a quarter full of flat soda on his dresser. You know better than to suggest one of the collectables perched high on the shelves and hooks in the living room, and Eddie does too. Wayne is still irked about the cracked commemorative Moon Landing mug. It’s been glued together and sits safely on a higher-up shelf since thirteen-year-old Eddie had wanted to impress you, his new friend, with hot cocoa. 

You look back at the bowl-cups, and wonder if anyone ever used the recipe on the front. “They are nice. I’ve always wanted to drink not-soup out of these. Feels illegal.” 

Everyone always said he would be a bad influence on you, drag you down. They never saw that soft side to Eddie Munson, but you did. Using soup bowls as cups is far from ritual sacrifice and grand theft auto.

When he looks at you, perched on the counter in his hoodie and no pants, eating cold pizza, he feels like he might be looking at an angel. Your post-sex hair is your messy halo.

He comes to stand between your thighs and you feed him a bite before pushing his bangs back to kiss his forehead simply because you want you. Because you can now. Now that the pretence of being just friends has finally (finally) been dropped. Everything about your night together - now that you are together - is pretty similar to how it’s always been. Pizza and laughing until your ribs hurt, smoking enough to make you loose-limbed and ravenous. You spend less time looking at his lips and fingers and wondering what they feel like; you know now, and get to sample any time. 

He steals one more bite before popping the lid on a can of Betty Crocker vanilla frosting from the cupboard. It has been a solid fixture of your garbage-food fixes since you and Eddie were fourteen and fifteen and home alone with a stack of horror movies to watch; Betty and two spoons, maybe some peanut butter or salty chips for balance. Now there is always a can in the cupboard, in your house and in the trailer, for when the cravings hit. When you move to Indy together after graduation, it’s top of your grocery list.

Eddie feeds you the first spoon, hovering it in front of your lips so you will come and take it. He feels a little like a pervert when he watches you eat it, lips around the cold metal and your eyes closed. You know exactly what you’re doing, doling out a little payback for Eddie getting distracted with his lyrics and set-lists while you were cuddling.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” you ask, tongue thick and coated with sweet vanilla. 

“Just appreciating the art, sweet thing,” he fires back, winking at you before taking a bite of frosting. His brows pull in like he’s pondering something. “Mm. Wonder if  there’s a Mr Crocker…”

You shove his head as he cackles that goblin-laugh of his and you try not to smirk at the same joke he’s been telling for years. 

“You want an older model, Munson? Karen Wheeler’s been looking pretty dolled up lately…” You take the spoon, tapping it against your lip as Eddie pulls a face. 

“Oh yeah, MILFs of Hawkins, come get me.” Eddie rolls his eyes before sliding his fingers up your bare legs to find the soft curve of your waist. “Only girl for me is riiight here, baby. You’re all the woman I need.”

He’s pressed up close with his chin resting against your chest, gazing at you like you hung the moon. 

“Better tell O’Donnell that. I think she has a crush, s’why she keeps giving you detention.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ sicko.” Eddie’s reverence shifts into a scowl as he rests against your chest, but softens again when your fingers slide into his hair, coaxing him to relax and melt against you. 

“And you like that?” you ask.

“I do.”

Eddie can feel the sped-up thud of your heart beneath his ear, matching the beat of his own. A peaceful moment settles over the kitchen.

Until a tendril of mischief unfurls inside you. Imitating that nasally, cringe-inducing voice of O’Donnell blended with something a little breathy, you whisper in his ear, “Edward Munson. I want to see you after class. You’ve been a very bad boy…” 

He steps back from you, hands over his ears so he can’t hear any more of your teasing. It’s cold without him all wrapped up and pressed against you.

“Divorce. Divorcing you. Get out.” 

Your cheeks ache, like when you’ve had a lollipop lodged there for a little too long. It’s sweet and cloying like the joy you take from riling him up like this. “Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Too late. I’m taking the house and the kids.” 

“That’s not even…” you cut yourself off, laughing too hard, and Eddie can’t even hide his own smile; he can’t buy into his own dramatics when you sit glowing on his kitchen counter, damp-eyed from laughing so hard (even if it is at his expense). 

“M’sorry, sorry. Don’t divorce me.” You pout and open your arms out, grabby hands poking from the too-long sleeves until he slopes back between your legs and folds against you. Your mind wanders briefly to a future where you’re Mrs Munson; it sounds nice.

As stubborn as he can be, Eddie thaws after a few sweet kisses cut with quiet little murmurs of ‘forgive meee’. You feed him another spoon of icing as a sign of peace, sweetening him up just a little more before licking what’s left off of the tip and edge. 

You feel his hands squeezing tighter on your hips, bringing your attention back to Eddie and away from the frosting. 

“Hm?”

“If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem.” He sees your confused expression and taps the spoon. “I’m gettin’ jealous. Of a spoon.” 

You can feel the problem, warm and thick against your leg. It does not feel like much of a problem, and you both can think of a few tried and tested solutions to make it all better - a few more to be explored are jotted on a page of another small notebook tucked away in Eddie’s drawer.

“Is it a problem? Really?” you ask, head tilted with the metal tap-tapping against your lips before you go in for another indulgent scoop. 

“Okay, I’m cutting you off.” 

The spoon is snatched and thrown, and it clangs against the mugs in the sink as Eddie takes your hands and hauls you down from the counter. You taste vanilla on his tongue, sharing the sweetness with you as you stumble blindly back to his room.

thank you for reading🩷reblogs, likes and comments are welcome and cherished!

Don't forget to check out the rest of the fics from the challenge!!

[huramuna]

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other. 

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard. 

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days. 

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

 You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design. 

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased. 

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red. 

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly. 

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits. 

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly. 

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?” 

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.” 

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?” 

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets. 

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here. 

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.” 

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.” 

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?” 

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–” 

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?” 

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet! 

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets. 

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions. 

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’ 

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup. 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.” 

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–” 

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.” 

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…” 

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house. 

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red. 

— 

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot. 

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you. 

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.” 

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen. 

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,” 

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction. 

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little— 

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing? 

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you. 

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you? 

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him? 

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working. 

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. 

“Oh. You’re still here.” 

“Yes?” 

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.” 

“The… what?” 

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.” 

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?” 

“Why not?” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?” 

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?” 

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you. 

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins. 

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?” 

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?” 

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.” 

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?” 

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.” 

“... what.” 

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?” 

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours. 

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.” 

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves. 

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.” 

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.” 

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?” 

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.” 

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?” 

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh. 

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone. 

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil. 

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat. 

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into. 

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded. 

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off. 

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt. 

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.” 

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was. 

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?” 

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.” 

“How about just in my room? Please?” 

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

[edwinspaynes]

Okay, so. I am very happy to inform y'all that I am beginning work on the first "episode" (chapter) of my Dead Boy Detectives season 2 fic today!

It has two potential working titles, both lyrics from Taylor Swift's Fresh Out the Slammer. I am not going to reveal them because I haven't selected which one I'll be using yet.

It will have 9 chapters. The official case titles are:

The Case of the Weeping Walls

The Case of Niko Sasaki

The Case of the Choked Cheerleaders

The Case of the Scorned Son

The Case of Hell's Own Track

The Case of the Shredded Tapestry

The Case of the Separated Soulmates

The Case of the Great Fire, Part I

The Case of the Great Fire, Part II

Each chapter will also come with a fun feature, but I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about that yet. :)

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS POST. I will tag everyone who wants a tag, but only if they comment since that's how I'll keep track of the list.

Next question because I know this is going to be an extremely expansive and time-consuming project:

I would still post my usual DBDA content, including other DBDA fics, on this blog. The other one would be exclusively for longfic-related updates.

I would probably still reblog the chapters I post there onto this blog.

Finally, something for you to enjoy: a playlist for the fic! This is very short and uninteresting, but it will be an ever-evolving thing that probably gets long eventually, so please follow it if you're interested :)

A few spoilers under the cut that might impact interest (endgame ship, etc)

Unequivocal Payneland endgame (they're soulmates your honour)

Palasaki and NN/Kashi endgames

Happy ending for The Cat King, who plays a big role in the story

No Sandman crossovers besides potentially a Death appearance (I do not know Sandman well enough to include them)

BAMF Edwin scenes ;)

No Esther or Monty (sorry!) - there is a new OC antagonist

I'm currently trying to find a place for Jenny. I want to include her, but she will likely only have a few cameos since I can't for the life of me think of a plotline to involve her in.

I will be keeping up with Yockey-posted spoilers and incorporating them into the story when possible (so, Niko is the Principal, etc)

[junrenjun]

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

Which Toxic Yaoi is the best

Sequel to the toxic yuri poll. I deeply apologise if some of these are not toxic, i went off of the propaganda

Propaganda under the cut!

BbKaz (Big Boss/Kazuhira Miller)

they have multitudes.. you can ship it as something goofy and fluffy or as the most toxic yaoi of all time and theyre both pretty reasonable interpretations. they go on a date together and have sex in a cardboard box on a beach in canon and a bunch of other crazy shit. their relationship spans 20 years so they span from honeymooning to divorced to one trying to kill the other etc. "love loses" the ship they make me insane

Flash/Reverse Flash

"It was ME Barry, I jerked you off at supersonic speeds so it would seem like you nutted at just a woman's touch!"

Possibly the most toxic yaoi of all time

SuzaLuLu (Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperougue)

TOXIC YAOI TOXIC YAOI

SaruMi (Saruhiko Fushimi/Misaki Yata)

Toxic yaoi, obsessive boy joins a gang with his best friend but then his best friend makes other friends in the gang so he joins up with an enemy gang instead. Normal behavior.

Valvert (Jean Valjean/Javert)

They’re so obsessed with each other (especially javert to valjean) it’s like half of the plot. Pinnacle of toxic old man yaoi. Produces the funniest plot point in the show: Valjean (escaped convict in disguise as a mayor and businessman) saves someone by lifting a cart he was trapped under and Javert (cop trying to catch Valjean) goes “Damn girl… you remind me of this guy…. He’s the only guy I’ve ever seen who’s as swole and jacked as you”

Lawlight (Light/L)

"L and Light are the founding fathers of toxic yaoi" is what people WANT you to believe but these poor men are being slandered... You see it's ackshually totally heterosexual to give your bestie (who's also your mortal enemy) a foot massage while he he makes soft little grunting noises and wipes the water droplets from your rain-soaked hair all while a soft melancholic piano track is accompanying this surprisingly tender moment between the two of you- IF it's a religious callback to Jesus and Judas. It's just a Bible reference bro. No homo. 🤓☝

Anyhow don't google the Japanese version of "Playing his Game" (which is called "Inside of him" in Japanese) from the Death Note Musical. I assure you there is absolutely nothing gay about those lyrics.

Wdym people love shipping two mortal enemies with an unhealthy obsessive murderous rivaly??? What is the world coming to... Besides Light is clearly heterosexual. His lack of interest in women is because he's a based sigma male obviously...

and additional reason here but this one is a spoiler

Foot washing scene. The musical. God, they're so obsessed with each other. When L dies Light loses his main drive, his passion- being Kira isn't fun anymore without L, he isn't having a good time even though he won their battle of wits. Light being L's first friend. L being... really, the first person to understand Light. Theyre insane I love them

[omgwhatchloe]

modern au: every gang party is pure anarchy, but the aftermath is so much worse.

-javiers asleep…in the bathtub…with water in it…completely clothed.

-someone played sia and now karens in the hospital with two broken legs and a fractured arm because she wanted to “swing from the chandelieeeeer”. had it not been for charles, she wouldve been left there.

-johns all over tiktok and instagram reels for his…”pole dancing”. he made bank though.

-micah chugged a redbull monster protein powder mix and is already out of the house.

-jack is asleep under bills coat on a sofa somewhere.

-bill is surrounded by beer cans in a corner. hes just exhausted from the effort of throwing mr pearson out of the window.

-lenny is wrapped up in an irish flag in the garden, covered in vomit, bloodshot eyes and snoring like hell. the phrase “no balls” has earned him several cuts and bruises, 9 million likes on tiktok, and a deep sense of shame and embarrassment waiting to attack him as soon as hes sober.

-tilly made it back to bed, thanks to mary-beth.

-abigail and molly are both knocked out in dutch’s bed after jumping susan then hiding there.

-reverend brought the real fun (iykyk)

-strauss hjacked the dj booth and played some bangers. it didnt matter the lyrics were in german, everyone still went crazy.

-uncle slept through the entire thing.

-sean is on the floor of mary-beth’s room violently breathing through his mouth as he sleeps because his nose is so stuffed. why? he snorted ‘something’ and then snorted davey’s ashes (lennys fault). he also fell down the stairs, mixed an insane amount of alcohols together, started to flirt with inanimate objects after loosing track of lenny, vomited on everyone and everything, graffitied up the ra on the walls and on trelawny. awful idea considering trelawny owns the hideout.

-dutch and hosea? currently on their way back to their state after arthur got himself arrested 16 hours away.(how arthur. how.)

[cryptidghostgirl]

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

[forzalando]

💛 hi 🥹 CONGRATS ON 3K THAT'S HUUUUUGE !!!!

I am obsessed with this idea and also my favourite activity (as of recently lmao) is drunk karaoke and of COURSE my dream would be to do it with lando !!!!

drunk karaoke with Lando would, and i'm not exaggerating, mean everything to me. i am in love with just the idea of this.

thank you for supporting me through the many phases of this blog and for entertaining my every thought/idea. adore you, mel💛 i hope you enjoy this blurb that was meant to be 300-400 words but ended up being 800+ lol

celebration post: here

Drunk Karaoke with Lando Norris under the cut😊

You quickly downed the shot thrust into your hand – sambuca, which meant it absolutely came from Lando since he was the only one who knew of your preference.  

He was on your left, sweaty and somehow wide awake despite the fact you’d been out for hours. Oscar was on your right, slowly swaying to the music with his eyes half shut. Somewhere across the club Charles and Pierre were dancing on an elevated surface while George videotaped them like a suburban soccer mom at her son’s first game. Here in Monaco, everyone partied post-race as if they themselves had made it to the top step over the weekend.

Out of nowhere, Lando fell into you as he shouted in your ear – “Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

Oscar caught you before you could topple over, steadying you on your feet before shooting Lando a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando giggled. He centered himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, looking the most serious you’d ever seen him. “Anyway, do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Win at Silverstone? Become world champion?”

“Well, yes, but think smaller, you lunatic. Something I could do right now.”

“Out drink Max?”

“What? No, I don’t care about outdrinking Max, where did that come from?”

“Well, I just thought since he usually wins every race that you’d want to beat him at something – ”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” Oscar interjected. “He wants to do drunk karaoke. When we went out in Miami he was practically on his knees begging me to sing with him.”

A giant grin spread across your face as you playfully swatted Lando’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I happen to be an excellent karaoke partner,” you boasted.

Lando clapped his hands and jumped around like a toddler at your remark – “So, you’ll do it with me?”

Instead of answering, you snatched his hand and pulled him through the club at an impressive speed. You weren’t in a karaoke bar, quite far from it, but you planted yourself in front of the DJ booth and gestured to Lando. Security immediately pulled you both into the booth, perks of having Lando at your side, and the DJ of the night asked what she could do for you.

“Hi! Lando Norris wants to do drunk karaoke and I’m trusting that you can make that happen. It’s very important to him,” you professed.

“I think I might have a couple instrumentals or could make some magic happen. Any specific requests? You won’t have any lyrics on screen, though. And you’ll have to share a mic.”

Before you could ask what your options were, Lando was shouting, once again, in your ear.

“DO YOU HAVE THE SPICE GIRLS? THAT ONE SPICE GIRLS SONG?”

“Lando, we won’t have the lyrics,” you reminded him.

“I don’t need them,” he declared, crossing his arms with attitude. “Maybe you need them, fake fan.”

“I most certainly do not,” you yelled back to Lando. “DJ, roll the track. Pretty please. You're amazing."

She chuckled and handed you the singular mic, Lando immediately snatching it from your hands.

“It’s my dream, I get to hold the mic.”

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile, stepping into his side as he threw an arm around you.

The deafening bass from the speakers grew quiet as the DJ addressed the crowd of people – “we’ve got a special surprise tonight! These two lovely friends of mine up here are going to perform a special number for everyone. Please welcome – ”

She paused, waiting for you and Lando to introduce yourselves.

“LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Please welcome Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N to my booth. Show them some love!”

The clapping and cheering brought the volume in the club back to an obscene level – the loudest cheers coming from a VIP table not far from the booth where all of your friends had gathered.

Before you had a chance to feel the slightest bit self-conscious, the infamous laugh rang through the speakers and Lando was scream-singing into the mic.

 “YO, I’LL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!”

The two of you in perfect sync, passing lines back and forth, singing (if you could call it that) in unison during the chorus. You could have sworn you heard George shout out that this was “his song” and Max was most definitely telling anyone who would listen that he personally knows Ginger Spice.  

You tore your eyes from the audience to look at Lando – the smile on his face rivaling the brightest sunny day. With his arm around you, squeezing you to his side, your closest friends cheering for you, your heart was sure to burst from happiness. There was no place you’d rather be in that moment than making a drunken fool of yourself with the most important person in your life by your side.

And if Lando was thinking the same thing, about how he was happier in that moment than he’d ever been, podiums and race win included, he’d keep that to himself for just a minute more.

[elodee]

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 2

Xisuma x Dethklok

I drew Xisuma in the style of a Dethklok music video!

I picked this one for him because X is a big fan of metal and I am a big fan of Dethklok, a fictional death metal band from the show Metalocalypse. Even though the band is fictional, they produce real metal and their music is great.

Warning: Metalocalypse is hilarious but also very adult, with graphic depictions of violence and inappropriate themes - this extends to a much of Dethklok's music and music videos as well, so please be aware of that if you decide to look them up. Obviously I wont be posting anything like that here.

If you want to learn more about Metalocalypse and Dethklok, or just want to see my style references, keep reading below the cut!

Dethklok is a fictional band created by Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha. Small both writes and is the main performer for the band. The band, consisting of 5 members that don't actually exist, are stars of the show Metalocalypse.

In the show, Dethklok has become so popular that they control the entire planet. Nearly every episode ends with the band performing one of their original songs, which somehow causes horrific violence to everyone listening. However, since they are idiots, they also seem oblivious to the destruction their awesome, face-melting, eldritch-beast-summoning music causes...or they just don't care because they're ultra wealthy megastars.

The show heavily, but lovingly, satirizes the metal scene and, less lovingly, the music industry and celebrity in general. The over-the-top gore is played for laughs, but the characters are interesting and endearing. There is genuinely a lot of heart under all that growling and corpse paint and a lot of care goes into their (often very funny) music.

If you are interested in checking out their music and want a PG track, I recommend Go Into the Water. This is one of their few non-violent music videos (big epilepsy warning though) and there's no profanity or graphic imagery in the lyrics. The premise of the song is that the band realized that fish can't listen to metal because they're in the ocean, and they thought that was sad, so they set up a concert just for the fish.

Style references:

Set design/aesthetic from Black Fire Upon Us (this song is awesome and was my primary design reference, but the music video is VERY violent, so be warned)

Nathan Explosion's evil DnD paladin fit also from Black Fire Upon Us

Dethklok's band logo

[soothinglee]

what would i do? (without someone like you) ──★ ˙🌱 ̟ ¡!

bangchan x ninth member! reader | 1.6k words✔︎

my notes⎯ i re-wrote this thing so many times i've lost count lol. i don't know if i'm satisfied with this because i couldn't convey the feeling as well as i wanted but i still like it! hope you enjoy! (also #bangchantakecareofyourself) warnings⎯ self neglect, reader taking care of bangchan. genre⎯ ninth member! au, angst, comfort, (heavily implied) self-neglect, platonic. songs⎯ what would i do?; strawberry guy

⎯catalog for skz✰ | ⎯ navigation✰ [requests are open]

"are you okay chan?"

the question lingers in the air for a hot second. it floats around until it hits the distracted ear of chan, who sits with his face resting on his chin, unmoving from his seat at the desk.

he blinks after a second, the fog slowly clearing from his eyes.

"huh?" his voice sounds distant as he resumes fiddling with the unfinished track.

you could tell that something was off in his demeanor. his postured was slouched, arms weak in their positions as he tries to fight off the sleep to continue working. you figured it had been a while since he had rest. you all were pre-paring for a comeback and with that comes a lot of work. new concepts, new looks, new songs. a high expectation bangchan finds himself fretting over due to the preconceived notions stays has on the upcoming album.

you've seen bangchan re-write a song 15 times because he thought stays wouldn't like one lyric. everyone, including you, has told him that he could only remove that one line, and keep the rest but he had the idea that everything has to flow together. which is why he's on take #16.

you give him a once over, your brows creasing. "i said are you okay?" he gives you a quick glance, his head bouncing as he goes back to his laptop, "how about you take a break?"

"can't."

a quiet sigh leaves your lips as you get up from the couch. the sky had darken as more time was spent in the studio, the only light source was the small table lamp in the far corner in the room. even then you could see just how much all of this was affecting him.

his eyes were sunken in, big purple-red like bruises encase them. he lifts up his hand to rub at the irritated skin. anyone could tell that he was exhausted.

your hands come up to rub out the kinks in his shoulders, "you're exhausted."

his body is defiant in letting him relax into your soothing touch, he hesitates for a second, letting the final moments of the massage sit in before he lightly shakes you off. "no time for sleep. i took a nap earlier, and i had a cup of coffee." he goes back to the track he was clipping.

an eyebrow raise, "how much earlier?"

this time he sighs and drops both hands. "y/n..."

"i'm just looking out for you. as the leader you have to take care of yourself, because if you aren't, then how do you expect to take care of us?" you know the question hits hard when you feel his body freeze underneath your hands. you stare at the back of his head, in the corner of your eye you see his shadow move a fraction and then his head drops. "you know that you don't have to be so hard on yourself," you take a moment to gauge his reaction, then a soft, "right?"

he releases a shaky breath, muttering.

you let your hands find the base of his neck, letting them go down to follow the path of his shoulder, willing the words from his throat. when you first joined stray kids, you were extremely nervous to the point where you couldn't speak, bangchan found that the movement worked well. you hoped it would work as well in your favor.

"i" he starts, his voice broken under the amount of stress resting on his chest, "yeah...i know."

you nod to yourself, a prideful smile on your lips, "okay then, why don't you take a break, let han or changbin finish it up in the morning," he goes to interject but you're quick to cut in, "and don't worry about putting this on them," taking the words from his mouth, "i'm sure they won't mind.

for the first time since he entered the studio, it's been almost 5 hours, he looks up at you and you can just see how much it's all affecting him, even down to the glassy look rising in his eyes.

he doesn't say anything but stare. he still looks hesitant. like at any moment he'll run off with the laptop and lock himself in a closet.

you stare back.

30 seconds, maybe a minute passes before a defeated look crosses over his face, letting his head drop onto your outstretched arm. wordlessly, he gives you one last look, then turns around to save the file, exit out of the software, and shuts down his computer.

"okay."

"okay?" you can't help the happiness that laces your tone.

"okay, i'll take a break, get some rest."

a squeal escapes your throat as you hold yourself back from celebrating, you honestly didn't think it was going to be as easy as it was. "i'm glad you're doing this, you need to give yourself some time to repair." you step back as he rises from the chair, holding on to his arm as he tries to return the feeling back to his legs, "how about you let me take care of you tonight? we can stop by the convenience store on the way home and pick up some snacks?"

chan immediately shakes his head, "i can't let you do that."

you bend down to retrieve your bag from the couch, making a pit stop by the lamp to turn it off, "why not?" you question, meeting him at the door. he leans on it for support. "you do it for me all the time."

"exactly," he holds open the door for you as you make your way out into the hallway, as you walk several offices are lit up by the occupants inside, you can only hope that they are not in the same situation as the man next to you. "as your elder, i'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."

you scoff, rolling your eyes, "please, you know how many times i have had to take care of changbin after he gets sick because he ate too much? this is nothing new."

for the first time in 3 days a sound embodying the phrase ha ha ha escapes his lips. it's so hearty and abrupt that he has to stop walking. it brings a little smile to your face.

"what?" you groan, playing into it. "it's not funny! it was so annoying, i'm serious!" you latch onto his arm to continue dragging him out and into the lobby, nodding at the lady at the front desk as you pass, "he sounded like a baby with the way he was complaining."

"trust," he starts, regaining his breath, "i've had to deal with that before." he huffs and looks at you, then the giggles come back and you can't help but join him. it lasts until you get to the front doors of eMart.

before you can pass through the threshold a hand yanks you back. you look up to find chan already staring at you, an indescribable glint in his eyes. "yeah?"

it takes him a second to gather his thoughts, mouth opening and closing undecidedly. after a moment he finally finds his voice, hand gripping onto the sleeve of your jacket. "...thank you." he blinks and a stray tear falls, "it means a lot."

you can't help the watery smile that graces itself on your lips, the sudden affection throwing you off guard. you reach up and brush the tears from his face, using two fingers to turn the corner of his mouth upwards, "don't thank me. you always take care of us, someone has to take care of you."

you pull him towards the automatic doors, listening as the chime of the robotic voice welcomes you in. the sight of the noodles you were craving makes your stomach growl. "c'mon! i know what i want to get!"

even though this was supposed to be a break from making music, chan can't help the melody that repeats in his head as he watches you, still gripping onto his hand, drag him through the isles.

he knew he had to make something for you, as a token of appreciation.

A WEEK LATER⎯

it had been sometime since you had last been in the studio. all of the songs and planning for the comeback were completed and now you all were in the final stages, preparing for the promotions.

thankfully, today was your day off.

it had been raining nonstop, the water covering the streets and sidewalks like a blanket. even though it was 4 o'clock in the evening, clouds covered the sun making it seem more like 6.

it was perfect for a nap.

as you were getting into your bed your phone on the dresser vibrates and you grudgingly get up to retrieve it. you tap it once and the notification center pops up;

chanツ now

what would i do?.mp4

as soon as you open the message, a little confused, another text roles in.

a couple weeks ago i was going through a rough patch of overworking myself to the brink of exhaustion. i hadn't ate, bathe, or slept properly in days before. then you came and convinced me to take a break, to take care of myself. before you joined the group i was always worried about taking care of the others that i never took care of myself. you helped me realize that. i'm not trying to belittle the others for their self-awareness skills but you are the first in a long time to take care of me like that. and it had me thinking. what would i do without someone like you? and despite you telling me to take a break this came to mind and i couldn't stop myself. so y/n, this goes to you. thank you for taking care of me that night. i hope you know that i will always take care of you too.

love, bangchan.

and as you listen to the track you can't help the tears that follow.

thank you for reading <3