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abtrusion · 1 month

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Tranny Tango

There's a man on the sidewalk, looking over, then up to see me walking past. He stops in his tracks and stutters back and forth, his read || reaction to me flickering between upstart woman // taller man || hold ground // make space, glitching him in place. When I step off the sidewalk and into the grass, he sheepishly passes me by without a word.

I'm interested in the everyday glitches, the double-takes, the way "everybody is just a little bit disgusted by you," what Susan Stryker calls 'monstrosity' and more than that, the casual experience of being a gaping hole in the gendered world. Stryker attributes this monstrosity to the idea that medical transsexuality, more than any other form of transgenderism, "represents the prospect of destabilizing the foundational presupposition of fixed genders." She takes anti-trans feminists at their word, assuming that their hate stems from some abstract gender trouble that transsexuals pose to female spaces, and her solution is a near-complete identification with that trouble. We can do better. This monstrosity, this glitching, is not just a downstream consequence of spectacular interruptions to some abstract 'fixed genders.' It is certainly not dependent on some unique threat posed by medicalization. It exists through instinctive disgust and constant little glitches in the social infrastructure that is gender, an uneasy response to an uncanny bricolage of the building blocks of gendered life.

Escaping the Cisgender Gaze

The classic trans encounter is to see a visibly transfeminine person out on the street, or as an escort, or in some carefully-curated performance piece, and to realize that gender is a lie. This is part of the utility of transmisogyny, which renders people both constantly accessible and utterly exemplary, and in turn this casts transmisogyny itself as spectacular exclusion instead of a slow social and economic death that sometimes spikes, particularly with multiply marginalized subjects, into horrific violence.

This singularization of transfeminine life and oppression (particularly with trans women of color) through suicide and murder statistics renders both trans life and pain spectacular and implicitly places one as a 'natural' consequence of the other. We need to seriously inspect the many interactions between non-passing transfem people and cis people which do not end with one of them dead. One way to start is Sandra Lee Bartky's understanding of hegemonic femininity as a disciplinary practice.

Femininity as Disciplinary Practice

As the lesbian separatists of the 1970s and 80s intensified the work of rooting out patriarchy from their spaces, they began to discover that nothing was sacred: nearly all everyday social activities were shaped by gender. As Bartky argues, the 'imposition of such discipline on female identity' influences every second of every day:

Iris Young observes that a space seems to surround women in imagination that they are hesitant to move beyond: this manifests itself both in a reluctance to reach, stretch, and extend the body to meet resistances of matter in motion—as in sport or in the performance of physical tasks—and in a typically constricted posture and general style of movement. In an extraordinary series of over two thousand photographs, many candid shots taken in the street, the German photographer Marianne Wex has documented differences in typical masculine and feminine body posture. Women sit waiting for trains with arms close to the body, hands folded together in their laps, toes pointing straight ahead or turned inward, and legs pressed together. The women in these photographs make themselves small and narrow, harmless; they seem tense; they take up little space. Men, on the other hand, expand into the available space; they sit with legs far apart and arms flung out at some distance from the body. Most common in these sitting male figures is what Wex calls the “proffering position”: the men sit with legs thrown wide apart, crotch visible, feet pointing outward, often with an arm and a casually dangling hand resting comfortably on an open, spread thigh. …in a way that normally goes unnoticed, males in couples may literally steer a woman everywhere she goes: down the street, around corners, into elevators, through doorways, into her chair at the dinner table, around the dance floor. The man’s movement “is not necessarily heavy and pushy or physical in an ugly way; it is light and gentle but firm in the way of the most confident equestrians with the best trained horses.”

Bartky concludes that, between behavior and makeup and skin-care, these disciplinary practices "produce a 'practiced and subjected' body, that is, a body on which an inferior status has been inscribed,” and that "the practices that construct this body have an overt aim and character far removed, indeed, radically distinct, from their covert function;" that is, she claims that gender is everywhere, that it is power, and that cisgender women are structurally made unaware of this connection.

What does this mean for transfeminine experience? First, as seen in the sidewalk example we started with (so chosen precisely because of how fucking boring it is), the abstract 'genderfuck' of transfeminine existence congeals into actual examples in the context of gender-as-infrastructure. Gender is a crossing-guard, a gatekeeper, a reviewer -- it performs social functions, all the time, which glitch and shake in our presence. Transmisogyny is not necessarily vitriolic rage at 'boundary-breakers,' it can also just be the passive exclusion of a person whose existence causes a few too many little frictions.

As we've noted, the singularization of transfeminine life makes non-spectacular trans life impossible for cis people to understand, leading to a constant current of disgust/disdain that accompanies their more exciting bouts of transmisogyny. One major inlet to this current is social friction, the way that non-passing transfems are structurally prevented from using social/visual gender infrastructures to do everyday things. The second inlet, which I will discuss in the next section, is the unease provoked by the negotiations transfems take to navigate gendered systems despite this breakage, making small corrections which are ignored, must be ignored, leaving only the horrible lingering fear that they're better at this gender thing than you.

Gender work

Because transfemininity makes no sense from a vulgar gender-power perspective, cis people generally view transfeminine people as either unwitting 'dupes' of gender or as spectacular hyper-aware gender predators, as seen across the HSTS/AGP split, the dead tranny/serial killer media split, the 'scheming eunuch' archetype, and the binarization of transfem identity in queer spaces. But because cis people also generally want to assume that they're talking to someone that isn't an evil serial manipulator, personal interactions encourage and enforce the good tranny archetype, which demands absolute suppression of any sort of informed gender negotiation. This archetype is impossible to fulfill because of the systematic failure of social gender-power infrastructure to account for transfeminine people, which demands some degree of semi-intentional gender work to fill in the gaps.

Fortunately, this work will basically never be understood as such by well-meaning cis people because of transmisogyny, so you don't have to be /super/ subtle about it. Unfortunately, ignoring this transfeminine gender work takes a lot of effort on the part of cis people, particularly if they also have had to perform reparative gender work because of trans-adjacent conditions (divorce, infertility, lesbianism, PCOS). The invisible work cis people must make to keep themselves separate from transfeminine people is then associated with our presence, most clearly articulated in Janice Raymond's lament that transsexual lesbians are feeding "off woman’s true energy source, i.e., her woman-identified self" -- our proximity alone demands intense effort to keep cis gender negotiations distinct from trans ones, growing frustrations that feed the slow current of transmisogyny.

Even if a cis person successfully suppresses their understanding of transfeminine gender work, for folks within queer & women's spaces, this itself leads to a horrible looming anxiety because people in these spaces usually pride themselves on having a full consciousness of gender, and we're a pretty notable exception to that. These anxieties are then channeled into a constant fear of the bad tranny, manifested in the horrible trans woman that your cis queer initiators will tell you to stay far away from. But there is really not much of a difference between the shadowy machinations of the bad tranny and the gender work transfeminine people have to constantly perform to even exist within queer spaces, so transfeminine people are rendered constantly precarious.

What's so deliciously ironic about all this is that this is just a shallow repetition of the cis man // cis woman dyad! Archetypes like 'the poisoner witch' or 'the gossip' or 'the slut' have always been used as a reaction to negotiating power gained via the kitchen, or cloistered social activity, or sex, all routes that men could never understand as a direct consequence of their own gendered power -- so in response to this fear, these roles pilloried exemplary women to structurally terrify the population, but just as importantly to exonerate the rest of the female population, to let men pretend that these weren't tools that everyone was using, to pretend that heterosexual relationships were pure! Just as transfems serve the role of gay best friend^2 in gay mens' films, they serve the role of women^2 in queer spaces, constantly performing gender work which is simultaneously unknowable and terrifying to the cis majority, forcing periodic purges to pick out 'the bad ones' which temporarily exonerate the rest, letting the majority believe that the 'good tranny' actually exists: that mythical trans woman who is not semi-intentionally managing their gender presentation around you, the one you can fuck without worrying if she's just faking it, the one who is good and pure and radical and really, really boring. I have never met a non-passing trans woman like this, but I'm sure plenty of queer people have.

Conclusion

So there are two main forms of everyday experience that express and constitute transmisogyny. The first is the social friction inherent in being freak-gendered in a world that relies on gender to make people move and talk and shit correctly. The second is the friction between the gender awareness demanded of transfeminine people (none) and the practical result of transgendered living in the world. If you want to take some of this back to cis womanhood, I've been trying to reframe the marginalized position of womanhood in terms of articulation work -- that while women have always worked, that work has generally been rendered unreal, always carried out with a dream of not existing, turned into stage-setting for the real boys to grow up and come in and be breadwinners. In this context, our components look like 1) do gender work and 2) don't let it show, and the framing of transfeminine people as socially useless outcasts despite their constitutive role in social life via flexible labor starts to sound a lot like the making of a super-woman, like the mujerísima sometimes invoked in Latin American travesti activism. That sounds just about right. I will become a witch of witches, the lurking terror that eats astrologers, always and ever a little bit too real.

#transmisogyny

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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Lewis Hamilton x rocket scientist!Reader - Social Media AU

yourusername

Liked by nasa_langley, mercedesamgf1, and 8,132 others

yourusername for nearly five years, i have had the opportunity to help mankind explore the cosmos and to combine the science of engineering with the mysteries of space. but now it is time for me to embark on my next adventure. i want to thank NASA and all of the amazing friends i made through work for the once-in-a-lifetime experience. keep an eye out for what’s next, the race is on

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nasa_langley it won’t be the same without you! all the best in your next chapter

yourbestfriend pretty offended that i’m learning about this through an instagram post

yourusername i’ve been sworn to secrecy until the official announcement but i promise that all will be revealed soon 🤐

mercedesamgf1

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 637,945 others

mercedesamgf1 Welcome to our new Technical Director!

We are delighted to announce that Y/N Y/L/N is coming onboard to take the lead on designing next season’s Mercedes-AMG F1 W15 E Performance. She joins the team from NASA, where she was the Director of Aerodynamics Research.

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silverarrowfan i don’t know how i feel about choosing someone with no experience working in f1 not to mention no motorsport experience whatsoever

mercdefender she literally designed rockets

silverarrowfan rockets aren’t formula 1 cars

mercdefender rockets are rockets and she’s one of the most renowned aerodynamicists in the world. the team desperately needed a designing shake up so that’s exactly what they’re getting

skysportsf1

Liked by womenofmotorsport, mercfansglobal, and 137,258 others

skysportsf1 Toto Wolff explains why he ventured outside the bounds of motorsport to find Mercedes’ new Technical Director

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yourusername adding “launcher of humans into space” to my resume as we speak

womenofmotorsport it’s only been five minutes since the announcement and i already love her

racinggrace i don’t get why some fans are upset. it’s not like toto picked a random stranger off the street, he poached one of NASA’s top engineers

formulazero exactly! she is the best of the best in her field and i’m confident that all the knowledge she applied to building rockets can be adapted to building a dominant f1 car

kymillman

Liked by paddockgirlie, formulafashion, and 81,429 others

kymillman GAME FACE ON

Mercedes’ newly appointed Technical Director Y/N Y/L/N looks stylish but stern as she joins the team for the first time at the Monaco Grand Prix. The aerodynamics engineer is on scene to meet with Mercedes drivers and staff and gather what data she can about the W14 to improve upon when designing the next generation. One thing is for certain, all eyes will be on the W15 to start the 2024 season.

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yourusername my RBF strikes again. i promise i don’t bite (most of the time)

formulafashion it’s honestly a serve. you have the whole untouchable woman in stem look perfected

paddockgirlie i have a feeling she’s going to be a fan favorite

formulafashion her and lewis alone will give mercedes more style than the rest of the teams combined

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f1 What a difference a year can make!

Lewis Hamilton’s comments about his car before the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix in 2023 versus 2024 are night and day. With a win in Bahrain to start the season already under his belt and a car that has been able to outmatch the competition, will the stars continue to align for the seven-time World Champion?

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kartwheels it’s a miracle! what changed from last season?

mercedesf1updates y/n y/l/n

lightsoutmerc a new technical director behind the car design

yourusername mercedes hospitality added vegan brownies so now lewis is less grumpy. and yeah, i guess the car might have helped a little too

mercedesamgf1

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 692,351 others

mercedesamgf1 Dream team 👊

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mercedes4life george reading this like 👁️👄👁️

hamilfan lewis is straight up hogging her which is understandable since she gave him a proper car again after two seasons we would all rather forget

yourusername i wouldn’t say “hogging”

georgerussell63 i would. i’m 99% sure lewis trained roscoe to growl at me any time i get close to you

yourusername we invited you to join us for dinner

georgerussell63 and then forgot i existed so you drove away without me while i was in the restroom

yourusername we’re really sorry about that

georgerussell63 i had to call toto to pick me up because there were no cabs and the restaurant was an hour away from the hotel!

mercedesamgf1 please continue. it’s been a quiet day at work and admin is bored 🍿

greeneggsandhamilton we are not worthy 🛐

mercedesamgf1

Liked by lewishamilton, yourusername, and 701,849 others

mercedesamgf1 The hot lap everyone has been waiting for

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lewishamilton there’s a reason y/n is the engineer and i’m the driver

yourusername never again

lewishamilton i thought it was fun

yourusername of course you did. i’m just happy i managed a lap without crashing

sirlewis44 y/n looks terrified

yourusername i learned that i prefer to optimize g-force, not experience it

f1wagupdates

Liked by gridgossip, lewislover, and 54,238 others

f1wagupdates Y/N Y/L/N spent nearly the entire summer shutdown with Lewis Hamilton. The two attended numerous fashion shows and even enjoyed a week cruising around the French Riviera on a yacht together with a group of friends. They certainly seem a lot closer than coworkers. Are they just friends or something more?

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lewislover mercedes 🤝 iconic motorsport couples

gridgossip first toto and susie, now lewis and y/n? they’re simply too powerful

awaywego do you see that last photo? no way they’re not together when they’re practically drowning in each other’s eyes

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, and 265,913 others

yourusername i could go on and on for days about lewis hamilton, the driver. how talented and determined and passionate he is. but anyone who has watched him race already knows that. so instead i want to talk about lewis hamilton, the man. lew, you are the strongest and most compassionate person i know and i know that you want to be remembered for that just as much as you want to be remembered for your accolades on the track. my heart is so full for you and the memories that we built together around the world. i love you more than i can put into words

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lewishamilton you push me to be a better driver and, more importantly, a better person. every struggle and obstacle was worth it because they led us to each other

timetogoporpoising i’m so happy for you guys

timetogoporpoising on a totally unrelated note, i’m going to go cry and eat an entire tub of ice cream

mercedesamgf1 admin can relate. seeing them completely in love tends to have that effect on anyone around them

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, and 1,947,628 others

lewishamilton another world drivers’ championship on my shelf and another world constructors’ championship for the team, and it’s all thanks to this incredible woman right here. she has a tendency to praise everyone except herself but despite how humble she is, this was only possible because of her. there were times just last season when i feared this day would never come but one announcement about her hire during a team meeting changed that all and y/n stormed into our lives like an avenging angel ready to drag us back to glory. i love you so much, baby. let’s run it back next season

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yourusername you + me + the W16 = #9 🏆

georgerussell63 + george

yourusername our favorite third wheel

mercedesamgf1 still hungry for more 🙌

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 4 months

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Billy and his songbird || Billy the kid x singer!reader

Summary: Billy is captivated to say the least when he watches you perform on stage.

Warnings: none that I can think of

Wc: 983

A/n: crap summary but I've always wanted to do a crossover between tbosas and btk lol. this was so fun to make, ALSO nothing you can take from me has to be one of the top three songs on the soundtrack along with pure as the driven snow and the ballad of lucy gray baird. I SAID WHAT I SAID.

Divider by @pommecita

The sun hung low on the western horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty streets of the small frontier town. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked as a lone figure stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the fading light.

The murmurs and laughter of the patrons hushed for a moment as they turned their attention to the newcomer. The dimly lit room flickered with the warm glow of oil lamps, and the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke.

The stranger, a tall and lean figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, scanned the room before his gaze settled on you. A slow grin crept across his face as recognition sparked in his eyes.

You were unaware of Billy’s gaze with your back turned to the crowd as you tuned your guitar ready for your performance for the night.

Billy looked around, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto a familiar face: Jesse Evans. The two had esse crossed paths many times before, sometimes as allies and sometimes as adversaries, but tonight, it seemed like old times.

“Billy!” Jesse called out, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Thought you were avoiding us. Billy smirked and tipped his hat as he approached Jesse and the others at a table near the corner that had a good view of the stage. “Just needed a bit of a break, Jesse. Couldn’t resist the allure of Sante Fe and the atmosphere ‘round here.”

Jesse slaps Billy’s back, “Well, you came on a good day, kid. Y/n’s singing tonight.“ He cocks his head to you on the stage as Billy’s eyes roam your figure. “Jesse leaned in toward Billy. “You know, we used to get mighty excited whenever we heard she was performing. She’s got a voice that can make even the toughest outlaw shed a tear.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Is that right? Well, I reckon I’ll have to hear it for myself.”

Jesse smirks at his friend as Billy catches on to his smirk with a roll of his eyes. “How’s everyone’s night goin’?” You speak in the mic as the saloon erupts in loudness, a few cheers, whistles and the sound of hands hitting tables, showcasing their feelings.

You chuckle, “Good, good, that’s what I like to hear,” a mischievous glint flashed across Billy’s eyes as he hears Jesse chuckles beside him, a playful nudge to his stomach.

“Oh! Is that bottle there for me?” Your eyes widen the slightest as you see one of the locals walk over to you with a flask in hand. “Of course, doll,” Cal grins up at you as the crowd loudens. “Oh, come on, ya’ll. You know I gave up drinking when I was 12,” You playfully wink.

The crowd erupted in laughter and amusement at your customary banter. Billy found himself captivated by your charm. “It’s to clear my piles, ya’ll. To clear my pipes” You assure them jokingly, throwing the flask back to the crowd with a grin.

You turn your head to give a sign to your band to start the song you prepared. The crowd hushed, waiting for the music to start, “You can’t take my past,” your bandmates start off, “you can’t take my history,” the crowd was silent in awe as they listen to the melodic voices that filled the space.

“You could take my pa,” “but his name’s a mystery.” You take a step forward to the mic, “Nothin’ you can take from me was ever worth keeping” your eyes flutter shut as you hear a few whoops from the crowd.

“Oh, nothing you can take,” your eyes open and Billy swore he saw them sparkle, “was ever worth keeping,” the corner of your mouth tips up to form a small smirk as the upbeat song comes to life causing an eruption of cheers from the patrons.

You wore a huge smile on your face as your fingers skilfully strum your guitar. “C’mon!” You encourage the already hyped up crowd full of cowboys and cowgirls; your boot tapping on the wooden stage as they clap along, already boosting your adrenaline.

“Can’t take my charm. Can’t take my humour. Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumour.” The way you effortlessly and gracefully twirled around the stage, your voice and stage presence mesmerising and commanding everyone’s attention—Billy was truly and utterly enchanted—you, the enchanter.

“Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,” Billy couldn’t help but feel his head lightly bopping to the beat, his eyes looking around to see everyone else just as captivated by your presence.

You were having the time of your life, like always whenever you sang, your heart pumping with adrenaline, “Thinkin’ your so fine. Thinkin’ you could have mine.”

Billy couldn’t help but be enchanted by your performance. He leaned against the wall, a half-smile playing on his lips as he watched you sing. Jesse and his gang, too, were caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. It seemed like everyone in the saloon, regardless of their affiliations, was having a great time.

“Thinkin’ you’re in control. Thinkin’ you’ll change me, maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal.” Your eyes roam around the practically full saloon before you lock eyes with none other than Billy the Kid in the corner.

You saw him a few hours prior from a distance, but that was it. Now, his blue irises were staring straight at you, his lips lightly upturned as his finger taps along to the beat of the music, your fingers still dancing over your guitar strings, not missing a beat.

You both stared at each for what seemed liked hours but was merely a few seconds; and, for those few seconds, something unspoken passed between you.

A playful smile made it to your lips before you tore your eyes away from Billy’s. “Can’t take my sass. Can’t take my talkin’,” Billy’s watches your figure as you move across the stage, leaning forward to the crowd, “you can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’,”

An amused expression flashed over Billy’s face, “She’s good isn’t she, Billy?” Jesse shouts over the loud music as Billy chuckles, nodding his head. “She’s somethin’ alright. A songbird.” Jesse snorts at him, “a songbird, huh?” he echoes as Billy’s eyes fall back onto the stage that you controlled.

“Nothin’ you can take from me is worth dirt.” Your eyes lock with one another, “take it ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.” Your eyebrow lightly cocks at his direction as Billy’s lips parted. It seemed as if it was only the two of you in the saloon, everyone fading in the background.

The crowd falls into a hush, sensing the end of the song, “Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’. No, nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.” The upbeat tempo once again affiliated the saloon as the pleasantly surprised patrons clapped, danced, and tapped along to the catchy beat of the song.

When the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a flourish, your fingers dancing over the guitar strings. Everyone in the saloon cheered and whistled, and you couldn’t help but bow, acknowledging the appreciation.

“Ya’ll have a good night, thank you!” You exclaim into the mic before turning around and packing up your equipment. “We’re havin’ a drink, join us?” Annie, your bandmate comes up to you, placing her hand on your shoulder.

You smile up at her, “Thanks, Annie. I’ll come join you guys later.” As you stand back up, you lock eyes with Jesse Evans. You were well acquainted with the man, the two of you hanging out whenever you were free. He was sat a table with Billy, his gang the next table over.

He beckoned you with a smile as you reciprocate it, signalling to him that you’d be there in a sec. “Hey, sweetheart,” Cal drawled, obviously drunk as he had a cigarette in between his lips.

“Hey there, Cal. Enjoying yourself?” You politely smile at him as her offers to hold your hand as you descend the stage stairs—although you were quite capable of walking down yourself.

“Wanna join me for a drink, eh?” “Uh-“ “-what do ya say?” Your eyes lock with Billy’s who was staring you down. “Thank you for the offer, Cal. But I’m gonna have to decline,” You quickly say as your feet quickly moved away, leaving him there.

“Popular, ain’t ya?” Jesse chuckles, moving the seat back beside him for you. “Mind sharin’ a drink with us?” He pats the seat as your eyes flicker between him and Billy. You returned the smile, taking a seat between Billy and Jesse “I’m a busy girl but I’ll make time for ya. Always a pleasure to share good company,” you playfully wink at Jesse as you hear Billy softly chuckle.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Bonney,” You extend your hand out gracefully as he looks down at it before looking back at you with a smile. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.”

The conversation flowed as freely as the whiskey, and soon, the saloon was filled with the sounds of camaraderie. You found yourself in the middle of it all, laughing at Jesse's stories, clinking glasses with the gang, and sharing glances with Billy that spoke volumes.

"It was Billy's first time here watching your perform y'know," Jesse pipes up, his glass of whisky close to his lips before he throws his head back as you look at Billy who was already looking at you. "What'd you think 'bout my performance Billy?"

Billy pretends to ponder, rubbing his jaw as you giggle. "What can I say, darlin'? You were great out there. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you," he admits as you grin at his bluntness.

As the evening drew to a close, Jesse stood and stretched. "Well, Billy, it's been a pleasure catchin' up with you. But we've got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

Billy nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "I reckon it's time for me to hit the trail as well. But before I go, there's somethin' I've been meanin' to ask." You looked at him, curiosity in your eyes. "Ask away."

Billy hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Would you mind if I walked you home? It's not every day a man gets to meet a singer as talented as you." You smiled, touched by the slightly expected request, you nodded with a gracious smile. "I'd be delighted, Billy."

As you and Billy stepped out into the cool night air, the distant sounds of the bustling saloon faded, leaving only the soft murmur of the wind and the occasional creak of a swinging sign. The moon cast a gentle glow on the empty streets as the two of you walked side by side.

"Quite a night, wouldn't you say?" Billy remarked, his tone a mix of charm and genuine admiration. You hummed. "Never thought I'd find myself walking home with an infamous outlaw." You smirked as Billy reciprocated it, "Life's full of surprises, darlin'," he tips his hat.

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taylorman2274 · 10 days

Text

We Care About You (Part IV)

Your attempts to cater to their needs only leave them confused and concerned. However, just when you think of giving up, more barriers are broken.

Content Warning(s): Xiao Story Quest Spoilers; Liyue Archon Quest Acts III & IV Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader

Word Count: N/A

Previous || Next

Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom;

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When Genshin finally finished loading, you found your player character back where you originally left them before you were forced unconscious; in the bustling streets of Chihu Rock. The first thing you noticed was the red exclamation marks over the Paimon Menu, Events Menu, and Battle Pass Menu. However, you saw these exclamation marks nearly every time you logged on to Genshin, so you weren't surprised.

What does surprise you is that so far, everything appears to be... normal.

The Traveler was currently doing one of their idle animations, the NPCs were all in their familiar spots, and the leaves were subtly floating to the ground...

You began to grow suspicious.

You moved the Traveler one step to the left, cutting off their idle animation. They moved as you expected. Then you moved them right. Then up. Then down.

You looked at their face. They were staring back at you with lifeless eyes.

"But they're not lifeless..." you commented.

Next, you opened up the preceding menus. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Even Paimon was doing her usual shtick.

Finally, you turned the Traveler away from your gaze and had them walk a few steps forward. You had them perform their normal attack combo. No signs of restraint were noticeable.

"...I guess everything is as normal as possible," you noted. "I'll still do everything I promised myself I would do. I don't want to be deceived by false appearances."

You opened the party setup and began to remove everyone from your party aside from the Traveler. You had decided that since nobody specifically asked the Traveler to join them on their travels, you should only use the Traveler from now on. Sure, that may make things harder for you, but you were willing to take on the extra challenge if it meant that everybody was happy.

However, as much as you would prefer to avoid it, you knew that fighting enemies was inevitable. You were just going to need to be extra careful while fighting to make sure that the Traveler doesn't get hit.

"It's almost like I'm doing a no-hit challenge," you chuckled.

Lastly, you were going to take your time doing long quests such as Archon and Story quests. You figure that doing so many quests in a short amount of time would be tiring to the Traveler. Especially with how grueling some of them can be.

With that being said, you took the time to quickly organize the pages of notes on your side before setting off to the first commission of the day, conveniently in Liyue Harbor of all places.

...By walking, of course. Strictly walking while inside cities should be the norm from now on.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Traveler was nearly quivering in excitement.

The adrenaline rush that they got when they realized [Y/N] was back in Teyvat made them all hyper and focused. They were ready to do anything and everything with you. They wanted to sprint across the widest plains; climb atop the tallest mountains; and fight against the strongest enemies.

However, they have learned before that they need to be patient.

Over time, they have come to realize many patterns that you have while guiding them throughout Teyvat. One of these patterns was that you normally started working on the daily commissions first.

So they were a little surprised when the first thing you did was move them around, almost like you were testing to see if they would still follow your guidance.

"You don't have to worry about that, [Y/N]," they thought. "I'll always be here for you."

Not to worry though, [Y/N] went ahead and guided them to all the places where the commissions took place afterward. However, there were some things that they noticed while they were completing them.

The commissions involving the common folk and the time challenges went about the same way. It was the fighting commissions that had them asking questions.

What was the best way to describe it...? They still had no problem defeating the enemies, don't get them wrong, but they noticed that you seemed to be a little more... cautious?

Normally, [Y/N] would have them rush in and start swinging. Sure, this was reckless at times, and got themselves hit a couple of times, but that was honestly the fighting style that they were most used to. However, this time they noticed that for whichever enemies they were fighting, they would focus on one at a time and balance an attack with a couple of dodges whenever their opponent attempted to strike back.

Furthermore, they also noticed that they were the only ones fighting. They know that [Y/N] is capable of guiding at most four people at once. So why were they only using them?

"Perhaps I can ask Paimon whenever [Y/N] leaves." they thought.

Not that they wanted you to leave, no no no. You had just come back to Teyvat after a whole week! They wanted to make up for lost time.

"If I counted right, that's all the commissions for today. Just got to visit Kathryne and then we can continue with our day. I wonder what we will get to do today. Are we gonna do some exploring? Fight amongst the ley lines? Meet up with old friends? I can't wait!"

They waited for their exchange with Kathryne to end so they could get back to your guidance. But suddenly, they began to feel themselves gaining control over their body.

...Wait.

... ... ...

Oh no...

...No...

No. No. No. No. NO! NO! NO! NO!

They know this feeling all too well. It was their least favorite part of the day.

...It was when you left Teyvat.

Just as their fears were confirmed, they gained control over their body again. Horrified, they quickly looked up at Celeste and prayed to the Archons that what was happening wasn't real.

Unfortunately, the light from Celestia came and went. [Y/N] was gone...

"Aww, already?" Paimon groaned, appearing out of thin air. "Paimon thought that [Y/N] would stay just a little bit longer."

The Traveler's eyes never left Celeste. They were holding on to the slim hope that the light returned. That [Y/N] would come right back and continue our adventures.

...But it never came.

"Hey, Traveler. Are you alright? You haven't moved in a while."

The Traveler finally took their eyes away from Celestia and sadly looked at Paimon. "I was so happy that [Y/N] came back. I was looking forward to spending all day with them. But in the end, they were only here for a few hours."

Paimon solemnly nodded. "Yeah, Paimon gets where you're coming from. But Paimon also says not to worry! It isn't often that [Y/N] leaves after completing the daily commissions. Maybe this is a one-time thing?"

The Traveler gave it some thought. They suppose that what Paimon is saying is true. There's no guarantee that this will happen again tomorrow.

Their mood picked up. "You're right, Paimon. Hopefully, we get to adventure with [Y/N] longer tomorrow."

Paimon smiled. "That's the spirit! Trust Paimon when she says that everything is going to be alright!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time Skip

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

... ... ...

... ...

...

...Three days...

It's been three days since [Y/N] first came back to Teyvat. They have since come back every day afterward.

...Three days...

It's been three days of completing commissions...

...And nothing else.

...Three days...

It's been three days since the Traveler realized that they were the only person [Y/N] used in their "adventure team".

They still remember how heartbroken Amber was when they met her.

"It wasn't something I did, was it?" she fretted with sorrowful eyes.

"Of course not!" they reassured, "You've done nothing wrong!"

However, they could tell that their words were not effective at uplifting the normally bright and cheerful Amber.

Now, [Y/N] was guiding them back to Kathryne again. Most likely the end of another day together.

... ... ...

... ...

...No.

"I REFUSE!"

Going against [Y/N]'s guidance, they stopped in place. They were not going to let [Y/N] leave this time! They felt a couple of forceful nudges from [Y/N] but they were going to hold their ground for as long as it takes.

"No more commissions, [Y/N]. Let's go back to before. Explore Teyvat! Go fishing! Search for my sibling! Just don't leave again!"

... ... ...

... ...

...

...-hy?

..."Huh?"

"What di- ... -o?"

"Is that...?" they wondered.

"I thought ... was doing ... -thing right?"

"[Y/N]?"

"I've done all the things that match their preferences. I've removed all the people who have jobs that prioritize their duties over adventuring; I've been careful while fighting enemies; I've even been spending as little time as possible to conserve their energy. So why are they still unhappy?

...So that's what has been the issue.

They wanted to tell you everything that was on their mind. But they couldn't bypass the restriction placed upon them.

This restriction in particular involved speaking freely towards [Y/N]. From what they understand, there are times when [Y/N] chooses what they say. However, they still don't know much about it.

"...Maybe I'm not cut out for this after all. I should've known better..."

They didn't need to be told what that meant for the future.

After hearing that last sentence, they fought as hard as they could to break the speaking restriction, to tell [Y/N] something, anything, to stop them from leaving.

When they gained the slightest control over their body, they shouted: "[Y/N]! Wait! Don't leave!"

However, it didn't appear that they even heard them. Furthermore, they instantly felt a painful shock rush through their body. Punishment for breaking the rules.

The shock brought them to the ground, and they were in too much pain to notice the light from Celeste. And from what they had to guess, potentially for the last time.

"Traveler!" Paimon screamed, immediately floating down to nudge their body. "Quick! Get up! Get up! We've got to do something or else [Y/N] will be gone forever!"

Slowly but steadily, the Traveler brought themselves to their feet. They felt more defeated than ever. "It's too late, Paimon... I couldn't stop [Y/N] from leaving... It's all my fault."

Paimon was quick to shake her head. "Don't say that! You already know that we've never been able to talk with [Y/N] in the past."

"That still doesn't change the fact that [Y/N] is probably gone forever. They're never coming back."

Paimon frowned. She hadn't seen the Traveler like this since they met their sibling with Dainsleif. But as much as she wanted to cheer the Traveler up, she needed to find a way to reach [Y/N]. She quickly used all of her brain juice to come up with a solution.

"Paimon has an idea! Why don’t we ask Zhongli for help? He did assist us last time.”

The Traveler let out a weak chuckle. “I doubt even Zhongli would know what to do in this scenario.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I may know something we can do."

"Really?!" "You do?!" Both Paimon and the Traveler exclaimed respectively.

They really should stop doubting the capabilities of this man.

"I have no guarantee that this will work," explained Zhongli, "but I'm curious to see the results. I believe you two are familiar with the adepti art 'dream trawling'?"

"Mhm," Paimon nodded, "We were with Xiao when he had us perform it."

"I see. That will make things easier to understand," Zhongli remarked, closing his eyes. "If [Y/N] won't come to Teyvat anymore..."

His eyes opened, filled to the brim with determination. "We'll simply have to extend them an invitation."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author Side Notes: Sorry this took so long to get out. I was struggling with how I wanted to write this.

Additionally, I've felt like my writing is lacking with descriptors. I feel like I keep saying words like 'said', 'asked', and 'nodded' a lot, especially in the last chapter. I've gone back and edited as much of it as I could.

I want to do my best to write all of these characters so I feel pretty bad whenever I'm unable to properly describe a character's thoughts or emotions. Maybe it's something that I'll get better at as I continue writing.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #sagau x reader #sagau #sagau genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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bchan95 · 4 months

Text

Picture Perfect (Bang Chan x Y/N)

Chan feels uncertain about his style choices, and you're determined to make him feel good about them.

Throwing on the oversized jacket, Chan tilted his head. Studying his appearance in the mirror, he sighs.

“This jacket feels… like a lot,” He starts, spinning back toward you. “What do you think?”

You smirk. The jacket was very Chan. Simple. Black. Sturdy. He loved being decked out in black clothing. You cross your leg, leaning a little to the left to drink him in fully. The simple rolled jeans, the big bulky brown shoes and a plain white t-shirt. Although the outfit may look simple, you couldn’t help but admire his effort.

He shook his head at you “Your silence is killing me…”

You bit down on your bottom lip, lifting yourself off the bed and over in his direction. Your arms wrap completely around him as you approach, leaning your head back to look at him again. His dimple is popped as he smiles down at you, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist too.

“I think...” You start, giggling a bit under your breath under his gaze. “I think you look so cool, Bang Chan.”

You watch as his cheeks begin to flush pink, rolling his eyes at you as he taps your backside lightly. You reach up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, bringing the color on his cheeks to a bolder red.

“Baby… don’t tease me.”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his cheek once more before looking him in the eyes again. You tightened your grip around him with a wide smile splashed across your face.

“I’m not teasing honey,” you started, admiring the crinkle of his nose. “You know I love your style. Simple, but effortlessly sexy.”

You would have thought Chan’s head was going to explode the way he stared at you wide-eyed. You just giggled again, pressing a kiss to his lips this time and sticking your hands in his back pockets. He pressed two, three, four more to yours.

Finally separating, he releases your waist and grabs your hand. Guiding you towards the door, you can’t help but gaze at him as you wander through the living room and out the front door. He had put on that musky cologne that you loved and let his hair drape naturally and wavy on his head.

You had actually begged him not to take you out to a fancy restaurant for once. You longed for a casual, lowkey date night like when you first started dating. Nervously trying to come up with questions for each other to answer as you walked up and down the streets of Seoul. Eating street cart food and looking over at the water before he’d throw his jacket over your shoulders and walk you home.

Now that Chan’s group has made it big, he loves to spoil you. Not that you can complain. You have every perfume, tiny black dress and big romance book you could ever ask for. Fancy five-star dinners just to celebrate the tiniest accomplishments you had at work.

But what you were really craving was just time with him. He had been so busy. First the Maniac album and tour, and then several follow-up projects within the last year… he was nonstop. He’d of course always make time for date night, but it never felt right that you didn’t get the time to just be with him. To be relaxed. Not trying to perform for anyone in particular. Even if it’s just his leveled-up innate kindness to the waiter. You knew that Chan just did this to show you how much he loved and valued you, and you never wanted to feel ungrateful.

That’s why a few nights ago when you brought up the idea of a chilled winter walk and with a quick bite to eat, he looked at you gobsmacked. He fully sat down on the couch next to you, your hands in his, rubbing soft circles on the tops.

“Baby… are you unhappy with our dates lately?”

His eyes were wide and pleading. You shook your head furiously and squeezed his hands.

“Oh god no Channie nothing like that… I just,” you stop, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “I just want a night where we can just let go together. No dressing up, no fancy dinners… just us.”

He nods, staying quiet for a moment. His hands dart to your intertwined hands as they rock back and forth.

“Chan…” He looks back up at you with wide glossy eyes. You shake your head and lean up to touch his cheek. “Oh baby, I love everything that you do for me… but I just want a simple night out this time. I promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”

He leaned into your touch, pressing his lips to the side of your hand before looking back at you and nodding, a soft smile across his lips.

So, now you were hand and hand with him, walking leisurely through the darkened streets, filled with bright lights. You smiled to yourself as you watched Chan take everything in. It had been a while since he had been this silent. You slightly shake his hand that’s in yours to get his attention. He looks over at you and his lips curl up slightly.

“Channie baby, are you okay?”

He nods “Yeah, I just….” He sighs, rolling his neck back and forth before stopping the two of you and pulling off to the side of the street.

“Chan?” You were getting anxious now. Maybe he hated this idea and didn’t want to do this lowkey date night. Maybe you had crossed a line.

“Chan,” you started again, your eyes darting across his face. “If you don’t want to do this, it was a silly date idea anyway and-“

Chan zeros back in on you, viciously shaking his head back and forth. He pulled you in closer, but his eyes stayed glued to the ground.

“Do you think…” he sighs before continuing. “Do you think this jacket looks like I’m trying too hard?”

You furrowed your eyebrows together “What do you mean?”

Chan sighs again, eyes finally meeting yours with a pleading stare. “I don’t know, this whole brand name stuff is kind of new to me… I just don’t know if it suits me.”

A small smile pulls across your face as you look at your bashful boyfriend. He looked good effortlessly, and it blew your mind that he thought anything otherwise. You knew his friends would make silly jokes about how “aesthetic” his Instagram has become, and Stays everywhere begging for designer brands to swoop him up in a deal. They all meant well, but you were sure that Chan felt the pressure to look cool.

“Chan… I think you look so cool, baby…”

He sighs “You’re not just saying that?”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Have I ever lied to you?”

He shook his head quickly, leading your smile to widen even more. Your eyes take in your surroundings. In the distance, you see a cool, open building. You weren’t sure if it was actually open, but you had an idea. You grabbed Chan’s hand and started running down the street. He protested, asking a lot of questions but letting you pull him along behind you.

Once you stepped up to the building, you pulled at the door. It opened with ease, and you quickly pulled Chan inside. Once you were inside the building, you smiled looking up at a plain white staircase ahead of you. You tugged on Chan’s hand, pulling him in front of you.

“Go stand up there.”

He looked at you in confusion, staying where he was. “Why?”

You let go of his hand, reaching up and shoving his shoulder forward.

“Just go! Trust me!”

Chan strolled up the stairs, looking down at you in confusion. You grabbed your phone, pointing it in his direction. Once you have your placement you smile up at him. Chan is still thoroughly confused, standing at the side of the staircase.

“Baby,” you call up to him, pointing him toward the middle. “Go to the middle of the staircase.”

He still looked confused, but walked sideways and inched toward your placement. He looked at you expectedly, waiting for his next direction.

“Okay, so I want you to put your hands in your jacket pockets. He followed your instructions and you giggled to yourself before moving forward. “Now I want you to turn your face to the right and smile, and act like you’re walking down.”

“Baby what are you…”

“Just do it, Chan.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Your cheeks flush pink once you realize how sharp your tone has been.

“Please, baby?”

It’s his turn to chuckle at you. He follows your instructions and you snap a few photos. You look back up at him with a smile before looking down at your phone and scrolling through the pictures.

“Perfect!”

Before he can ask any more questions, you guide him upstairs and set him down in a chair. He looks at you bewildered, watching you post his hands, resting his elbows on the sides of the chair and spreading his legs ever so slightly before moving back to the side.

“Okay baby look slightly to the right again, but this time let your face just sit naturally.”

“Y/N…”

You pout, lip jutting out as you look up at him. “Chan please, it will only take a second.”

He complies, letting you snap a few more photos before pulling him outside. His giggles ring through your ears as you pull him back onto the street. Before you can pull him down the road again, his firm arm pulls you back into him, a small smile pressed against his lips as he looks down at you.

“Sweetheart, what are you scheming…”

You bat your eyelashes at him, widening your gaze. “Nothing Channie, just helping you get Instagram photos. Is that okay?”

He smiles even wider “Baby why do I need Instagram photos right now? That can wait-“

You interrupt him, your hands grabbing at the sides of his jacket, bouncing on the balls of your toes.

“But Channie, this outfit is so perfect. Let me just take a couple more please please please?” You pout again, his hand coming up, finger tapping against your lip, silently instructing you to put it back in.

“Fine baby, but then we’re getting you something to eat,” He grabs your hands, feeling the chill of your palms. “and something warm to drink because it’s getting cold and you didn’t bring mittens.”

You nod, biting back a squeal. You push Chan a bit back from you in front of the Deli sign. Just as you raise your phone again, snow starts to softly fall from the sky. You smile as you see Chan try to capture some into the palm of his hand. Your heart melts, quickly switch over to the record button to take a quick clip of his antics.

He finally notices you filming and motions “no no no” trying to lower your camera. You frown, shaking your head.

“But Chan you are so cute. I have to keep that video.”

You show him the quick clip, loving the way he shies away from your eyes as his cheeks turn rosy. You quietly take a few steps back, snapping two photos of him smiling without knowing before he pleads for his release.

“You’re done now baby,” he says, taking the phone from your hand and placing it into his pocket.

You giggle to yourself as you grab his hand again, this time letting him lead you down the corridor to a nearby shop. You lift his hand up, pressing a kiss to it quickly. He turns back around, halting you both. He leans forward and captures your lips. As you pull away, he smiles brightly at you.

“Handsome,” you mutter softly, keeping your eyes on him. “You are so so handsome baby, don’t forget that.”

He presses his forehead into yours for a moment, leaning in for one more quick peck before guiding you down the freshly fallen snowy path.

#bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bangchan x y/n #bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfic #bang chan

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xoxoladyaz · 9 months

Text

AU-gust, Day 6: Domestic

Eddie Munson was a rockstar. Eddie Munson was a renegade. Eddie Munson was a bad boy, living life on the edge, destined for wild nights on the open road, for success and fame and riches. Eddie Munson was –

“ – ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie whirled around from psyching himself up in the mirror to glare at Jeff. Jeff, who had the utter nerve to roll his eyes at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, man,” Jeff repeated.

“He’s not being ridiculous, he’s being a baby,” Gareth cut in with a snort.

Eddie gaped at his two best friends, his musketeers, his brothers in arms. “What – I – how dare you! I am not being a baby, I’m Eddie fucking Munson, I’m a high-rolling freak on the streets and in the sheets - ”

“Dude, gross.”

“ – who’s ready to rock across America!” He finished emphatically.

Jeff just quirked his eyebrow at him. “You’re literally pouting right now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look before sighing in tandem. “You’ve gone to bed before eleven every night the last few weeks. The rest of us aren’t even out of the venue by the time you’re asleep,” Gareth started.

“Not to mention the fact that you can’t do anything in the morning until you’ve called and talked to Steve,” Jeff continued.

“And if you can’t talk to Steve during his lunch break then you’re grumpy for the rest of the day.”

“You keep complaining about the fact that none of his shirts smell like him anymore - ”

“ – seriously, you threw a temper tantrum until Stu stopped and bought a bottle of his shitty cologne for you to spray on your pillow - ”

“ – and you keep making super long and sappy speeches about missing your ‘sweetheart’ every single performance before we play ‘Faithfully’ - ”

“ – it’s embarrassing dude, we’re a metal band!”

“ – and to top it all off, you literally can’t go more than three minutes without talking about Steve or what Steve would think of what we’re driving by and God forbid you make any sort of decision without talking to Steve first.”

Eddie stood frozen, paralyzed by the heat rushing towards his face. “I – I do not!”

Phil walked in from the back of the bus and chuckled. “Dude, you literally called him to ask if you should order ketchup or mustard with your burger last night.”

“I - ” Eddie sputtered before crossing his arms. “I – he was having burgers too and I wanted us to match!”

“Awww,” Gareth cooed mockingly, fluttering his eyes back at Eddie. “That’s so sweet.”

“Ignore him,” Jeff said, shoving Gareth off of his chair. “For the record, it is really sweet, man. So why are you trying to hide it with all this ‘bad boy of rock and roll stuff?’”

“What do you mean ‘hide it?’ I’ve always been a bad boy.”

Silence. (If they weren’t on a moving bus and had their windows open, it would have been the perfect moment for a symphony of crickets to kick in.)

Eddie squeezed his arms against his chest and pouted (and yes, he knew he was pouting this time, thank you very much.) “Rude.”

Jeff rose with a sigh and crossed the tour bus. When he reached Eddie he threw his arm around him in a half-hug. “Eds, my man, I love you, but you’ve only ever been scary looking.”

“Seriously, you’re the sappiest guy I know,” Gareth added unhelpfully.

“And before you say that’s not metal,” Jeff kept going (and yeah, he knew Eddie pretty well to head off that train of thought), “that’s what sets us apart from the rest of the bands on the scene.”

“What does?”

“You being a super loving guy, man,” Phil nodded with a dazed look in his eyes. “Truthfully, I think love is the most metal thing of all. It can change the world.”

“Wow,” Gareth snorted after a few moments, “have you gotten up close and personal with Mary Jane already today?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

“What Phil is trying to say is that you’re made of love, dude. And it’d be a real shame if you lost track of that, especially because that’s what we love about you, and that’s what Steve loves about you,” Jeff finished. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder comfortingly before letting go.

“You’re right,” Eddie rubbed his hands against his arms. “I know you’re right, it’s just – this was supposed to be what I wanted, you know? Touring and fame and the open road. But - ”

Jeff prodded him gently. “But?”

“But I miss Steve,” Eddie sighed. “I miss seeing him come home every day. I miss waking up next to him every morning and falling asleep next to him every night. I miss his delicious pasta dinners and his burned pancakes because he always burns them and I just – I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I just miss him. But I don’t want to give up what we have either.”

The boys were silent for a moment, looking amongst each other and back at Eddie, who was wilting in on himself.

“Well,” Phil started, “we don’t have to tour like this. We could just do weekends maybe?”

“Or summers,” Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “That way Steve can come with us.”

“And Will!” Gareth perked up, grinning. “He doesn’t take classes in the summers, he’d be able to come with us then.”

“And that way by the time we’re done touring, Steve will be headed back to work and you can be home with him,” Jeff nodded, like it was decided. “We can definitely make that work.”

Eddie’s voice was small and quiet when he spoke. “You’d really do that for me?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be just ‘for you,’ it would be good for all of us, but yeah, man. We just want you to be happy. That’s way more important than any tour.”

Eddie nodded once, twice, and then he was throwing his arms around Jeff and tackling him to the floor. “Thank you thank you thank you, you guys are the best, Steve’s gonna be so excited I gotta go tell him RIGHT NOW - ” and then Eddie was off, whooping happily into the back of the tour bus.

Jeff sat up from his spot now on the floor and exchanged looks with Gareth and Phil. “You’re good with that, yeah?”

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t going to say anything, I was,” Gareth shook his head. “Eddie’s way less of a slob when Steve’s around.”

“And he’s a great cook! I’m getting tired of all this Taco Bell.”

“Speak for yourself, Phil!” Gareth growled, affronted, and the three remaining Corroded Coffin members began arguing about the nutritional benefits of Taco Bell.

(When they finally went on tour again the following summer it was a much better experience for everyone involved. Eddie was almost constantly in a good mood, Gareth didn’t feel the need to strangle Eddie for hogging the phone, Phil ate his weight in homemade – or hotel-made – pasta, and Jeff? Jeff got to enjoy himself without any worries about his best friend losing his way, because anytime Eddie got a little stressed or in his head, all it took was one look at Steve and he was okay, and that was more than worth the crowded tour bus.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #steddie fanfic #corroded coffin #august fanfic challenge

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duhnova · 7 months

Text

Dancing Queen | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: disco club owner!choi seungcheol x performer!reader (fem)

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst if you squint but its almost nonexistent

Synopsis: the stage is where you felt the most comfortable, letting go and singing for everyone that would sit and listen. but it was hard making a living in America, every corner you turned there was trouble waiting for you because you were too comfortable with your sexuality for the public’s liking. so when you stepped off the ship that took you to your new life in Paris, you were surprised to collide with a disco club owner who was in a similar boat as you.

Warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!!), mentions of food and alcohol, joke about marriage, ambiguous sexuality, talks on sexuality and swinging any which way, cat calling, talks of sexism and a little power imbalance, mentions of religion and leaving the church, mentions of immigration, implications of a future threesome, cheol has a sir & daddy kink (big surprise), spanking, bruises (cheol has a bit of a heavy hand and thrust), office sex, a bit of praising (both ways), lowkey breeding kink (are we surprised?), i feel like the sex was a bit tame in this but please let me know if i forgot anything else! - don't mind grammatical errors and typos, i tried!

A/N: biggest shout out to @onlyseokmins & @the-boy-meets-evil for proof reading for me and offering feedback/opinions, and for also putting up with my late night bullshit these last few nights of constantly putting off finishing this - jess really saw my turmoil with this one and BLESS her heart for not telling me to go fuck myself after id message her late saying i either finished a section or i didn't end up writing like i wanted too (and then id send her an idea right after for her to read in the morning). anyways i spent the last few months struggling with this fic and i hope ya'll like it and if you don't... keep it to yourself <3

70s;teen collab masterlist | my svt masterlist

Paris was beautiful, the long voyage was more and more worth it the longer you spent in the city that bustled and thrived. America was nothing compared to France, the countrysides and the cities alike felt like they were straight out of a book.

Life was starting to finally look up for you, even if you weren't fully able to escape the turmoils you faced in America, you were given more opportunities in the so-called city of love. Cars driven by men still honked at you and women with their children glared and covered their kin's eyes as you walked down the street, your cleavage and shoulders on display and your skirt far above the knees.

Despite the business of the city during the day, there were plenty of shops downtown that didn’t open up until nightfall. One in particular, Club Kidult, was said to be the best nightclub in all of the country. It’s owned by a man from Korea who is a wildcard, with a knack for “adopting” foreigners - or so you’ve been told.

“Can’t you read? We’re closed right now.” A man glares at you after knocking on the front door of Club Kidult.

“Is the owner here?” You brushed the strange man’s hostility off. His glare turned to curiosity as he finally eyed you up and down in a manner that wasn’t unfamiliar.

“Why? Does he owe you money, doll?” The man moves to fully stand in the doorframe, letting you get a nice view of the inside of the shop behind his tall stature.

“No…” You huff quietly at the insinuation before giving him your sweetest smile, knowing exactly how to play with a man. “I wanted to see if I could perform here tonight.”

“You a dancer?”

“I can be if you want.” You couldn’t help the flirty tone, the man was attractive and so far he hasn’t treated you like an object. “But I mainly sing.”

“A singer?” He hums quietly, his grin showing off his sharp teeth. “We don’t get many of those around here, most women want to dance on our stage.”

“I could imagine,” You cross your arms, pushing your boobs up slightly. “So… Is he in?” The man hums quietly.

“Ah, no.” He was very blunt with his answer before he looked back over his shoulder to look at the empty building. “But…”

“But?”

“He might kill me for this but,” he looks back at you. “I’ll let you wait for him. He likes to stop by and make sure everything is ready for the night before he goes to get dolled up.”

“Well I don’t want to get you in trouble now.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get me in a lot of trouble, doll,” He gives you a wink before he’s moving out of the way to welcome you into the club. “Too bad I’m not scared of Cheol.”

“Cheol?” You question as you hesitantly walk into the establishment. Despite it being closed still, there was music playing and you could hear a lot of voices coming from somewhere in the back - easing your nerves of possibly being alone with this stranger.

“Choi Seungcheol is the name of the owner, but don't call him that or he might bite your head off.”

“So what do I call him then?”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you, but you can address him as sir, I guess.” The man shrugs. “I’m Mingyu by the way, head of security at this joint.”

“So head of security, do you just let all the people that come knocking on the door looking for your boss in?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirks as he walks around the bar. “Our bartenders don’t show up for another hour but I can whip you up somethin' simple if you like.” He leans against the counter as he watches you take a seat at one of the bar stools.

“Whiskey please.”

“Just whiskey?” He looks at you with raised eyebrows as you nod your head. You never felt comfortable in bars back home, the majority of them filled with only men and so the list of mixed drinks intimidated you. The only thing you were comfortable with was bourbon and whiskey as your father always had them in stock in his cabinet. “I like you.” Mingyu grins as he pulls the most expensive bottle of whiskey off the shelfs to pour over ice for you.

“I’m wonderin'…” You mumble as you pull the glass towards you after Mingyu set it down on a napkin for you.

“About?” The tall male leans against the counter top.

“Is it true?” You take a sip of your whiskey and before you can reiterate what you mean, Mingyu beats you to it.

“If the rumors are true?” He shrugs at your scoff. “Most of us workin' aren’t from here… Couple of the girls are from across the pond like yourself.”

“They're American?”

“Well… A little more south. Brazil I think.”

“Are they dancers?” You take another sip of your drink. “I’m assuming that’s what Mr. Choi likes.”

“A few are but one of them is our head chef.” Mingyu hums quietly. “And dancers aren’t Cheols favorite, they're mine.” You laugh quietly at his wolfish grin.

“Well what does Mr. Choi like?”

“Well he doesn’t like to be called Mr. Choi, that’s for sure.” He pushes off the counter just as the door to the club opens. “And he likes singers!” He’s quick to rush out as he speed walks around the bar to stand in front of you a little.

“Wha-” You stop midway through your word as you spin in your chair to see a man dead staring in your direction.

“Cheol!”

“Mingyu…” His voice was low and dangerous as he tried to scope you out from behind the tall wall of a man.

“Hiya boss… Look.”

“What have I told you about bringin' strays in while I’m not here.”

“C’mon man look at her, she’s smokin'!” He whips around to quickly apologize before he’s turning back towards the man you presumed was Choi Seungcheol. “She wants to sing here.” He doesn’t give anyone a chance to breathe as he steps to the side to give Seungcheol the full view of you. He falters for just a millisecond as his eyes scan you from head to toe before he’s turning to Mingyu.

“Next time ya bring someone in here without me knowin', I’m cuttin' your pay.”

“Noted.” Mingyu nods quickly.

“Come with me upstairs.” He doesn’t give you a second glance before he’s walking towards a set of stairs that are blocked off that lead up to the upper level where his office sits.

“So, ya wanna work here?’ Seungcheol wasted no time as he offered the seat in front of his desk for you to sit in. His accent a little different from his friend downstairs and you figured it had to do with the duration of time each had spent in the country.

“Yes,” you take the seat with a small nod of thanks. “I wanna sing on your stage.” The look Seungcheol gave you as he sat back in his office chair, the slight glare of his eyes as they raked your body, caused shivers to run up your spine.

“A singer?” He mumbles behind the hand that rested over his mouth as he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair.

“Yes. I used to sing in New York an-”

“New York? You're American?”

“I... yes,” you mumble. “Is that a problem?”

“No... Not one bit.” He sat up straighter, fixing his coat as he eyed you up again. “My whole staff is foreign, as are my performers.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“My reputation carries, I see.” He smirks.

“So... Will you let me sing here?” You lean forward a little, letting your chest pop out a little, hopefully his eyes will linger long enough for him to fold.

“I’ll need to hear you first before I let you on my stage.” His eyes don’t waver from your face, he knew the game you were trying to play - it’s one he’s played plenty of times to get where he was.

“Oh...” You huff quietly before sitting back in your chair.

“Don’t sound so disappointed darlin’, I didn’t say no.” He has to bite his tongue to keep from grinning at the way your demeanor changed in seconds. “We’re closed on Sundays, come back then and show me what you got and I’ll decide if I have room for you or not.”

“Sunday?”

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got plans already.” He watched the way you messed with a beat up rosary sticking out of your pocket.

“I didn’t take you for someone that got on their knees for men that were higher than them.”

“Only the rich ones.” You smile back. “But no, I don’t go to church anymore. I just have a date with the eiffel tower.”

“I see, sorry I assumed because I saw the rosary. I’ve only known church goers to carry them.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago, it just used to be my grandma's, it’s kind of like my good luck charm now.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago too.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Times are changing, life’s too short to not love who and what you wanna love.”

“So you swing one way… two ways?...” Your voice trailed off as you tried to guess his preference.

“I swing anyway you want me to, darlin’.” He leans over his desk and rests his chin on the back of his interlocked hands so he can give you a cheeky grin. “We can even invite the idiot downstairs that let you in if that floats your boat…” Your legs squeeze closed at the idea and his eyes can’t help but wander this time. “And I’m sure it does.”

“So Sunday?” You whisper, your voice getting lost in your throat at the way Seungcheol's eyes looked back up at you through his lashes.

“Sunday, nine in the morning. Can you do that?” You nod quickly.

“Yes!” You clear your throat as your voice cracked from the change in volume. “Yes, I can do that.” He laughs a little at your contained excitement as he sits back in his chair again.

“Good, don’t be late. I expect you to be here the second the clock hits nine and if you’re not… My doors won’t open.”

“Got it... Sir.” You smile sweetly at him, his adam’s apple bobbing a little as he scoffs quietly.

“Good… Girl. Now go, suns goin down and we open soon.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see you on Sunday.” You stand up and straighten your shorts before you give him a curt nod and scurry to the door. Just as you open it you turn your head back and give him the cutest smile you could muster. “Thank you, Sir.”

Before you could get any kind of response from him you close his office door quickly and rush down the stairs, cheering quietly to yourself. You were going to spend the rest of the week anticipating this little “audition.”

“I take it he’s lettin' you in?” Mingyu was leaning against the bar top, a shaggy brown haired male working behind him, cleaning glasses.

“Well, not exactly.”

“What?” The unknown male stopped what he was doing to look at you wide eyed. “You’re the finest girl to walk through those doors and ask to work here and he just turned you down?”

“Chan…” Mingyu's voice was laced with warning.

“Sorry…” He mumbles to you before he goes back to cleaning his cups.

“It’s alright, I’m used to it.” You shrug with a smile. “But he didn’t turn me down, he just said I have to show him what I got first before I can sing on his stage.”

“First, ya shouldn’t be used to men treatin' you like that, this world is disgusting.” Mingyu pushes off the counter so he can walk you to the door. “And second, Cheol has never allowed just any singers to sing here. You have - ”

“I have to be good, I know.” You smile up at him and pat his arm that was firm under your touch and it took everything in you to not do it again just to feel the muscles that laid under his shirt.

“Piece of advice...” He mumbles to you as he opens the club’s doors for you. “He likes upbeat songs, things that are funky and out there.”

“Has he heard of Abba?”

“Honey... I don’t know who that is.”

“So I know what to play then.” You both mirrored the same grin as you stepped out into the dimming light.

“Will you be okay walkin' home?” You nod your head as you turn to walk backwards to watch Mingyu watch you walk while he leans against the doorframe.

“I live close enough to see your neon lights shine!” You call out over the loud roaring of a car passing by. “I’ll be fine!”

“You better be! I wanna see you perform!” He yells back, waving at you as you wave and turn to start to run down the sidewalk in joy. You laugh to yourself, twirling and jumping over the curbs - your dream was one step closer to coming true.

Sunday couldn’t come any quicker as you spent everyday exploring Paris just to sit at your window and watch the crowd in front of Club Kidult every night. To think that that many people could be lining up next week to hear you sing - if all goes well - when you meet Seungcheol again.

When you woke up to the sun barely peeking over the horizon, you groaned in frustration. Your little alarm was set to go off in forty more minutes but the excitement of what was going to happen in a couple hours had you jumping up to take a long hot shower.

You let your hair air dry for a little bit before you set it up in curlers so you could finish off drying them with the fancy new hair dryer you splurged on when you moved here. You could never afford these types of luxuries back home, the prices being drastic.

You hummed the tune of the song you were going to be performing quietly as you danced around your room getting clothes out so you could change while your hairs cooled off in the curlers - hopefully making your curls last longer.

“I can’t believe today is the day,” you mumble as you buttoned up your high waisted pants that flared a little at the bottom. Tucking your shirt in a little, you make your way to your front door where all your shoes sat waiting for you to choose from.

You go back to humming your song as you slip your shoes on, fixing the straps on them before standing up straight to check your makeup in the mirror by your door. You yelp quietly at the sight of your curlers still in before you are carefully rushing to take them down.

“Can’t believe I almost walked out the house lookin' like a clown.” You laugh quietly at yourself as you go back to your bathroom to hairspray your hair, mumbling that you’ll clean your apartment floors later tonight as you trudged your outdoor shoes through your living room.

Once you were out the door, you all but skipped down the hall, taking the steps two at a time as you happily jumped down them so you could make it to the club on time - early even, which you hoped made a good first impression on the owner.

“You’re early.” Mingyu chirps from behind you as you make your way up to the front doors of the club.

“Jesus!” You yelp in surprise.

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He walks past you to unlock one of the doors. “Cheol ain’t here yet, it’s barely eight.”

“Guess I’m earlier than I thought.” You laugh nervously.

“He’ll like that. Most of us barely run on time.”

“You’re here early too, though.”

“Actually, between me and you I’ve been here since seven.” He laughs quietly as he hangs his coat over one of the bar chairs. “We have a delivery comin soon and I was supposed to be here waitin' and cleanin'.”

“Well your secret is safe with me.” You smile at him as you watch the way he messes with the clock on some machine on the wall before he’s putting a card through it. “Don’t forget to set that clock back.”

You watch Mingyu almost break his back as he jerks back around to make sure the punch machine clock reads the same time as the clock on the wall before he’s putting the glass cover back on it.

“Thank you, darlin'’” He gives you a grin full of teeth.

“No problem, handsome.” You giggle at the way he puffs his chest out a little at the comment. “If you need any help I obviously have some free time.”

“Just sit there and look cute while I restock the bar to make room for new inventory in the back.” He winks at you. “Wouldn’t want you gettin' hurt before you're supposed to perform for me and the big boss.”

“Lookin' pretty is no fun.” You huff as you sit at the bar just as the club door swings open to let in a bunch of natural light.

“You must never have fun then.” Seungcheol doesn’t waste a beat as he locks the club door before shrugging his coat off and making his way to the staircase.

“I have plenty of fun, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and watch the way his pants accentuate his ass.

“Do you now?” He stops in front of his office door to look back at you. “Hard to believe for a pretty face like yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Doll… I’d be dumb to not think it.” You can’t help the little happy wiggle you do as Seungcheol turns back around to walk into his office.

The bar doesn’t stay quiet for long as Mingyu hauls a bunch of boxes from the backrooms that are filled with supplies.

“We had a busy week.” He drops the last box on the counter in front of you. “Had to call in this month’s shipment early.”

Your eyebrows rose in curiosity as you peek into the box to view its contents. Packs of little drink umbrellas filled half the box, and with even more curiosity, you pull one of them out.

“You mind pullin' those all out for me?” Mingyu sets an almost empty container on the counter next to the box that had a couple little umbrellas left. “Just put 'em in there and Chan will unwrap them later.”

A nice silence fell between the two of you as he replaced missing alcohol bottles on the shelves and put more cups under the counter. Mingyu even gave you a box full of straws and told you to wash your hands so you could fill all the straw dispensers with what was left in the box.

“Are you makin' her work before she’s even hired, Gyu?” Seungcheol walks down the stairs to smile at the sight of you stocking straws and Mingyu stacking more receipt books under the register.

“Hey, she wanted to help.” Mingyu shrugs as he goes about his business unbothered.

“It’s fun stocking things.” You shrug in a similar manner as Mingyu without even looking up from the dispenser you're trying to symmetrically stuff straws into.

“You two are strange.” He shakes his head before sitting at the bar to admire the way you floated behind the counter, moving around Mingyu's clumsy figure like he didn’t even exist.

“Strange how?” Mingyu scoffs as he finishes his task before turning to stuff the last straw dispenser despite your whining that you were just about to do that one. “There was time to kill before her performance.”

“There was only time to kill cause someone here is an early bird.” He smiles at the way you cross your arms. “Which is nice… It’s refreshing to see someone here before me.”

“Hey, I was here before you.” Mingyu butts in.

“It’s a miracle.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the tall male in a manner that challenged him to keep arguing.

“Fuck face.” Mingyu mumbles under his breath in a playful manner before he starts gathering all the empty boxes to break down and toss out.

“So.” Once Mingyu took all the trash to the backrooms Seungcheol put all his attention back on you. “Any reason why your early?”

“Gonna complain already?” You lean against the counter so you were closer to his vicinity. Mimicking you, Seungcheol leans forward too – you're so close your breath mingles together.

“Who said I was complainin'?”

“Well you don’t seem too happy I’m here.”

“Oh darlin’, I’m over the moon.” He smirks at the way you bite your lip, your red lipstick unwavering.

“Maybe I just wanted some alone time with your little guard back there without any distractions, like you.” You hum playfully.

“Ouch, you’re hurtin' me doll.” He runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Aw.” You fake pout before you're grinning. “You could hurt me.”

“The only thing I’d hurt on you, doll, are your hips.”

“Is that a promise?” You lean over the counter, a little more in excitement. Flirting came naturally to you, it was a great way to get what you wanted but you’ve never felt more genuinely attracted to someone like you are to Seungcheol. Before he could respond, Mingyu comes sauntering through the backdoors with his arms full of cleaning supplies.

‘Great timing, Gyu” Seungcheol pulled away at the same time as you jumped back from leaning on the counter.

“Sorry,” He looked at you, then his boss before he was dropping the supplies on the counter. “Did I interrupt somethin'?” Neither of you answered, which was enough of an answer for Mingyu as he starts to clean the bar, mumbling another apology to you as you scurried from behind the counter to stand a little awkwardly off to the side of where Seungcheol was sitting.

“It’s almost time for you to sing for us, need me to set anything up for you?” You shake your head no, you were more than familiar with the systems that were used in clubs like this. “Everything you’ll need is either behind the stage or off to the side, yell if you need me.”

While you were turning the system and speakers on, you realized you forgot your vinyl record that had the song on it at home. Cursing quietly under your breath you pray that they somehow have the record as you start to flip through the hundreds of vinyl records they had in the back.

“How the hell are you not gonna have Abba in here?” You whine quietly as you made your way through the last couple of vinyls. “Mr. Choi!” You yell loud enough for him to hear you from behind the stage. You could hear what sounded like the chair hitting the counter (or floor) and Mingyu cursing as Seungcheol’s quick footsteps approach from behind you.

“Are you okay?” His voice was filled with worry.

“I forgot my record at home and you don’t have it here for me to use in the background.” You huff quietly, a small pout on your lips.

“Aw darlin'; you gave me a heart attack, I thought you hurt yourself.” Seungcheol sighs in relief. “Just sing without it, wow us even more without the sound.”

“I haven’t performed for people without the music before.” You mumble, a little self conscious of your raw voice.

“It’ll just be me and Gyu, you got nothin' to worry about.” He reassures you with a smile. “I’m gonna sit down, come out when you’re ready.”

When Seungncheol went back out to the front room, you started to pace back and forth. You focused on the melody of the song in your head – you’ve sang this song a million times, both with and without the track, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

After a couple minutes pass by, you finally take a deep breath and push your nerves down. Without much of a second thought, you walked out onto the stage and up to the mic that was already setup. Seungcheol was sitting at the bar with a glass of what looked like orange juice while Mingyu leaned against the counter to watch you intensely.

“This song is supposed to be upbea.t so it might not sound as good without the music but,” you took a deep breath. “I’ll be singing Dancing Queen by Abba for you.”

“You’ve got this!” Mingyu cheered quietly as he smiled encouragingly, while Seungcheol offered a soft smile that calmed you down instantly.

You did a count in your head before you closed your eyes so you could feel the song deeper before you started to sing. Even without the music playing, you managed to stay on beat almost perfectly and as far as either male knew, the way you were singing the song was exactly how the song was supposed to sound.

“That was…” Mingyu broke the silence right after you had finished singing before he started to clap and cheer loudly for you. “You’re amazing!” He flicks Seungcheol’s ear to snap him out of whatever trance he was in to give you his thoughts.

“I told you you didn’t need the music playing.”

“Wow you start off with ‘I told you so,’.” Mingyu mocks him playfully which earned him a rather harsh smack and a giggle from you.

“Well I’m glad you both liked it since I was up here shakin' like a leaf in the wind.”

“Couldn’t even tell.” Mingyu calls after you as you go to shut the system off before joining the two in the front room again.

“I don’t know what I was expectin' when you said you were a singer.” Seungcheol watches you take a seat.

“Yeah he’s picky with his women, I mean singers.” Mingyu quickly excuses himself when Seungcheol glares at him hard.

“Don’t listen to that idiot.” He sighs quietly.

“It’s ok, I’m picky with my men.” You shrug and smile playfully at Seungcheol as you hop up onto the bar stool that was one away from where he was sitting.

“Do you wanna sing here Friday nights?”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just to start off with, if the people like you I’ll book you for more nights.” He takes a sip of his juice to hide his smile as he watches you practically jump in your seat out of excitement.

“I’d love to!” You bite your tongue to keep from squealing too loud. “I’ll remember my record this time.”

“You’ll have to show it to me so I can buy it for here.” You nod your head quickly.

“I can’t believe it,” You smile brightly again, your excitement hard to contain. “Thank you so so much.”

“Of course, don’t disappoint me now, okay?” His voice was playful.

“Never.” You sounded one hundred percent serious.

“Good girl.” He mumbles under his breath before he’s taking another sip of his juice.

“I should get going now, I still have that date with the eiffel tower and a cafe to get breakfast.”

“Right.” He stands up from his chair so he can walk you out. “The view from the tower is beautiful.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You hear a lot of things don’t you, doll?”

“Only good things I fear.” You give him a cheeky smile as you sigh quietly at the feeling of the warm sun hitting your face as you step outside.

“Well, have fun. I’ll see you Friday?”

“Maybe sooner if you’re lucky.” You can’t will yourself to step away yet.

“Well I hope I’m lucky then.” He leans against the doorframe, unable to move himself.

“We’ll see if you are.” A car horn in the distance finally broke you from whatever was keeping you glued there as you stepped backwards down the sidewalk like you did when saying bye to Mingyu the first day you were at the club. “Bye Mr. Choi, See you soon!”

“I hope.” He mumbles to himself as he waves back at you, yelling to be careful as you almost run into a lamp post.

“Bye Darlin’!” Mingyu pushes Seungcheol out the way so he can yell down the road before you were too far out of earshot.

“Bye Mingyu!” You turn back around to yell. “By the way, my name is Y/N!” Your laugh could be heard even from that distance as you make your way towards the Eiffel tower, flipping off a man who cat-called you from his car.

For some reason you found it hard to sleep, the birds were extra loud outside your window and the sun had barely breeched the horizon. Groaning for the umpteenth time that morning, you sit up abruptly, your hair a wild mess from all the tossing and turning you’ve been doing.

“This is stupid.” You mumble before tossing your blankets off your body so you could go to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it’ll wake you up more.

The market down the street was going to open soon and you were in desperate need of more milk and coffee for your apartment. So when you got out of your shower you didn’t waste too much time in doing your hair, choosing to put it up in a messy ponytail with a red ribbon you recycled from an old christmas present. You didn’t bother with makeup before walking out of the house in a skirt that you cut to sit in the middle of your thighs along with a tank top.

Strolling down the street slowly, you reminisced a little with what’s happened the last couple of weeks, from you leaving New York and being stuck on a ship for weeks only to land in France where your dreams came true quicker then they ever would in America, the so called place where dreams come true. In the middle of your thoughts, an obnoxious whistle broke you from your trance and an even more obnoxious voice followed.

“Hi there, sweets.” The thick French -ccented English was slurred by alcohol and you weren’t surprised as you gave him the fakest and sweetest smile you could muster.

“Don’t fall on your way home.” You wiggled your fingers as you waved him goodbye. Sometimes it was better to hold your tongue and be nice, especially in a foreign setting that you weren’t too familiar with.

Luckily that was the only thing you had to deal with before making it to your destination. The market was just barely opened, the cashiers and a couple other customers joined you in the rather spacious store for it being so close to downtown.

“Well hey there, darlin'.’” The grin in the voice made you know instantly who it was.

“Hi Mingyu.” You put a jar of strawberry preserves into your little wicker basket that you brought with you as a bag.

“How’dja know it was me?” You looked up at the six-foot-something male with a raised eyebrow.

“Kiddin' me? I could hear the shameless grin in your voice from a mile away.”

“Touched you can recognize me without even lookin', I must be that good lookin'.”

“Hardly.” You grin playfully as you move on to look at the selection of bread they had on display today.

“Ouch, you hurt me darlin’.” He whines and it reminds you of Seungcheol, and a chill ran up your spine at the mere thought of said male.

“What brings you to the store so early? Thought you weren’t a mornin' person.” You put a loaf of sourdough bread in your basket and look back to see Mingyu's brown mop of hair peeking over the top of the shelf as he moved to the aisle over. Either he’s tall as fuck or the shelves are short, both could be true.

“Cheol’s been cooped up in his office all mornin stressin', an' being his right hand, it’s my job to stress with him I guess.” He sighs quietly but you still heard it as you moved further away from him to grab some bagels.

“Stressed?”

“Yeah, immigration is on his ass 'bout papers for all the workers, himself included, so he’s tryin to get his shit straight before someone gets in trouble.” Mingyu pops up next to you to grab himself some bagels. “So bring your papers with you on Friday, darlin’.”

“I will.” You hum quietly before looking down at the weird assortment of things in his store basket. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Whatever Cheol is in the mood for later, I love cookin' and it helps him get the stick out his ass.” He shrugs as he moves towards the refrigerated section.

“You cook?”

“And clean so if yer lookin’ for a husband I’m takin' applications.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “But only for you, darlin’.”

“In your dreams lover boy.”

“I could always dream ‘bout you.” He laughs quietly when you scoff. “Guessin' I’m not your type?” All you can do is shrug.

“Don’t gotta type.”

“Oh?”

“All they gotta be able to do is make me orgasm I guess.”

“Scandalous.” He checks through a couple packs of eggs before finding one he’s content with. “You and Cheol are similar in that way - as long as they’re kind he doesn’t care much who or what they are.”

“Do you care?”

“All I care is that they like my cookin’.” You knew you had found your people as you continue to shop with Mingyu trailing behind, picking up items he wasn’t even planning on until he saw you shopping in the section.

“Are you going back to the club now?” You walk out the store after you argued with Mingyu over him paying for your groceries, him arguing that it was a “welcome to the neighborhood” gift.

“Only to drop this stuff off.” He holds up his bag of groceries. “Then I gotta go pick up Cheol’s suit from the tailor and pick up some more food that I can’t get at a regular market.”’

“Imports?”

“Fresh fish straight from the ports of Japan and I’m picking up an order I had put in a while back for fresh Gochugaru.”

“Chili flakes?” You looked at him curiously.

“Yeah... You know Korean?”

“A little, my neighbor was a little old Korean lady and her kids moved across country and didn’t visit anymore, so I’d hang out with her often and she’d teach me Korean.”

“Cute,” Mingyu smiles gently, a huge contrast from the grin he always had. “Me and Cheol were forced to learn English when we had moved here because it was either that or French and one was significantly easier than the other for us.”

“You speak really well.”

“Thank you, I try.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he puffed his chest out.

A comforting silence fell over the two of you as you continued to walk down the street in the general direction of where you lived. Reaching a certain intersection you two stop - one way led you the rest of the way to your apartment and the other way led in the direction of the club.

“Need me to walk you the rest of the way home?”

“I got it from here Gyu.” You start to walk again in the direction of home, leaving Mingyu to stand there on his own.

“Gyu...” He smiled happily at you using his nickname. “Be safe! And I’ll be out of the club for at least an hour if you wanted to go visit the stress ball in his office, he could use the distraction!”

“I’ll consider gracing him!” You call back over your shoulder before waving goodbye to the golden retriever of a man who all but scurried across the street, narrowly missing a car who he quickly cursed at loud enough for you to hear him from down the road.

It didn’t take you long to get all your groceries put away, the thought of going to see Seungcheol had you moving on auto pilot. Taking a second to freshen up your appearance, you make sure your hair isn’t frizzy before you make your way out of your apartment to walk to the club.

The streets were unnaturally quiet as you walked in the direction that has become all too familiar to you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Finally seeing the doors come into view, you realize that Mingyu said he was going to be out, so you had no idea on how you were going to get in.

“Oh!” Mingyu jumps a little as he opens the door to leave to see you standing there with a look of contemplation on your face. “You came darlin’. ”

“I hope I will be later,” The look of confused curiosity Mingyu gave you made you shake your head with a fond smile, opting to not explain your innuendo. “You said I’d be a good distraction for Mr. Choi so of course I came.”

“Well he’s up in his office, like he has been for hours.” Mingyu sighs quietly as he looks up at Seungcheol’s office in worry before he’s turning to give you a smile. “Like I said, I’ll be out for a couple hours so whole place is to yourselves.”

“Thank you.” You wave him goodbye, wishing him to be safe.

“Mr. Choi?” You mumble quietly as you knock on his door. It takes a long few seconds for you to get any acknowledgement that he heard you. “I’m comin’ in.” You didn’t give him the option to let you in or not as you open the door slowly to see tired eyes framed by fluffy and tousled hair looking at you.

“Whatcha doin’ here, honey?” The new nickname sent butterflies a flight in your tummy as you close the door behind you and make your way to stand in front of his desk.

“Gyu said you were stressin’,” you mumble as you look at all the paperwork spread across his desk. “Maybe you need a break from all this.”

“I can’t just ignore this all…” He sighs quietly as he runs his hand through his hair for what looks like the millionth time that morning.

“I’m not saying to forget ‘bout it, just saying you need to relax.” You start to gently and carefully stack the papers into a neat pile before setting it on the corner of his desk. Seungcheol just watches your hands move, even as you slowly move around his desk to stand behind him. “Let me help you, Mr. Choi.”

You hum quietly as you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently pull him to sit back in his chair. Sighing again, Seungcheol lets you do whatever you want as you start to massage at his shoulders - something you picked up from the men that you’d visit that worked on Wall Street.

“That feels nice.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into the back of his chair more.

“Yeah?” You mumble with a smile, a little sultry tone to your voice as you knead a little harder, the knot under your fingertips melting away. Seungcheol groans, satisfied at the tension leaving his body as he curses quietly in Korean causing you to giggle quietly. The words were familiar, your old neighbor having said them a time or two but in an angrier tone.

“What’s so funny doll?” He opens his mouth, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he looked up at you.

“Nothin’ Mr. Choi.” You move your thumbs to rub as the back of his neck, gentler than you treated his shoulders.

“Y’know, if you keep callin' me Mr. Choi, I might just have to marry you.” He grins a little at the way you squeak in shock.

“You haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet and yer already proposin’?” You watch as Seungcheol sits up straight and rolls his head and shoulders, sighing in content at the relief he feels.

“My mother calls my father Mr. Choi, they’ve been married forty years now.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking anymore about the marriage thing as he spun around in his office chair to look up at you.

“What?” You look down at your outfit to see if there was anything he was staring at as a minute of silence passed by with him just looking at you.

“You should be on the cover of Vogue instead of in some place like this.” His fingers twitch on his lap as he finally lets his eyes wander farther than your face, but not for long as he’s looking back up into your eyes. Something about the way he held eye contact had your knees feeling weak. He didn’t look at you like you were a piece of meat but rather that you were the finest chocolates from À la Mère de Famille.

“I’m not a model sir.” You shrug as you begin to feel shy, something you haven’t felt around a man in a long time. “Besides, I like it here. The workers are hot and the atmosphere is calmin’.”

“The workers?” He raises his eyebrow in a pouting manner. “What ‘bout the owner?”

“Oh, he’s more than hot but you didn’t hear that from me.” You wink, giggling quietly at the way his pout turns to a smirk.

“Is that so? 'Nother rumor, I suppose.”

“Starting to think it’s not a rumor.” You hum quietly, rocking on your heels a little.

“Are there any other rumors you wanna prove to be true, darlin’?” He leans back in his chair and manspreads as he props his chin on his hand that’s resting on the armrest.

“Mm, not rumors per say.” You take an experimental step forward. “More of personal speculation.”

“Speculation?” He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darkening the closer you get.

“Can I touch you?” You whisper when you finally stand between his open knees.

“Fuck…” He groans quietly at the idea. “Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” He nods his head, giving you approval to touch him.

Seungcheols adam’s apple bobs a little as he swallows, your fingers lighting a fire under his skin everywhere they ghost. You trailed your fingers up his knees and over his thighs before your palms begin to lay flat against his stomach. When you dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt, Seungcheol flexed, the feeling of you tugging on it gently causes his resolve to crumble.

“Can I touch you?” It’s his turn to ask as his hands moved to grip at his armrests tightly.

“‘Course sir,” you whisper as you lean in closer, the scent of your soap filling his senses as his hands move to grab the back of your thighs so he can yank you to sit in his lap in one solid movement.

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles as his hands travel up your back so he can pull you closer to his body.

“Don’t want you to stop.” You mumble as you lean closer to him, your hands leaving his stomach so you can drape your arms over his shoulders.

“Tell me when then.” He lets you lean in first to kiss and once your lips are on his, he’s spinning his chair around so he can press you against the edge of his desk. Smiling into the kiss you begin to rock and roll your hips in a way that has him hissing and groaning as he pulls away from the kiss.

“You got the hips of a dancer.” He groans at how expertly you moved your lower body against his as he kisses down your cheek and to your neck, something no one has really done before. The time he took kissing and mapping out every inch of your neck until he found your sweet spot had you whining.

“Told Gyu I was one,” You moan for the first time and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not slam you down on his desk to hear more of your pretty sounds. “Could show you what I got.”

“'Nother day.” He groans as he nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before pulling away to look you in the eyes. Again the eye contact had your stomach flipping as you swallow the moan in your throat. “God…” He groans, his eyes closing as his hands on your back grip your shirt tightly.

“Am I a god now baby?”

“I’ll fuckin' worship you like one.” He growls when you push your hips down harder, the desire growing in every inch of your body as you bite your lip and watch him through hooded eyes.

“Mmm~” You lean your head back and close your eyes in pleasure when Seungcheol finally grips your hips and grinds up into you. “Fuck daddy.” The name slips off your tongue like the old habit it was, men in America would fall to their knees when the word left your plush lips.

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol hoists you up to lay you flat on top of his desk so he can stand between your legs. His pupils were completely blown now, but you were sure yours were too as your thighs squeeze around his hips and he loosens the tie he had on and unbuttons the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk outta here, darlin’.”

“You did say you could bruise my hips daddy, hope you weren’t lyin’.” He haphazardly rolls his sleeves up past his elbows before he’s diving down to kiss you again, this time a lot harsher than the first.

Moaning into his mouth, you tangle your fingers in his dark hair and tug it when he nips your tongue. All he does is smirk into the kiss and without letting up for much air ,he makes work on undoing his pants in the little room that’s between your bodies.

You tug his hair hard enough for him to pull away, his eyes half open as he groans at the delicious sting on his scalp. When you let go of his dark locks he stands up straight again so he can push his dress pants down his thighs and make work on tugging your panties off from under the skirt you had on.

“Tell me where you want me to finish.” He mumbles as he lets his hands travel up your thighs to slowly push your skirt up until it was resting on your stomach. His eyes stared you down like you were an art piece in the Louvre as his hands continued up your body till they were squeezing your boobs through the tanktop you were wearing.

“Inside.” You could see his cock twitch behind his boxer briefs as his eyes snap up to look at you.

“You sure darlin’? What ‘bout a kid?” He didn’t seem too nervous about having a kid with you but he was nervous that you might regret it.

“I’m on the pill.”

“The pill?”

“Yeah, it’s what some of the girls back home would call their birth control.” Your hands reach out to grab the ends of Sungcheol’s dress shirt to try and tug him towards you again, the cold air hitting your exposed pussy making the desire grow even more in you. “Not too sure ‘bout it yet though, haven't had unprotected sex since startin' it but I guess we’ll see if ya knock me up tonight.”

Seungcheol just smirks at your words and he opens his mouth to make some cheeky little comment but you sit up enough to grab his hair and yank him down to kiss him - shutting him up effectively and kickstarting his gears again as he pushes his hips against yours. The heat of your bare cunt makes his cock twitch more as he groans into the kiss that’s turned a little sloppy but that's just the way you like it as you grind your hips up against his, urging him to finally fuck you.

“You’re so warm.” He almost whines when he pulls away from the kiss to breathe as he pushes his boxers down enough for his cock to smack up against his stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight and your core pulses at the thought of being filled up more than you’ve ever been.

“'Nd your big.” You breathe out as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, letting it nudge against your clit a couple times as he gets all nice and coated in your juices before he’s slipping further down where your entrance greedily sucks him in without much work from him.

“Fuck.” His hands grip the edge of the desk by your head as his eyes roll a little at how you squeeze around him. It was a familiar feeling but one he hasn’t felt in a long time and he can say with ease that it’s never felt this good before and he’s barely bottomed out.

“Move please.” You beg, the feeling of being split open made your brain go fuzzy and your mouth fill with drool as you choke on a moan when he slowly slides out till just the tip sits in your entrance. Just when you went to complain about him leaving you empty, he’s slamming back into you, jostling his desk and knocking the papers down that you had stacked up. “Fuck!” Your voice was high pitched and whiny as he definitely set a bruising pace early on.

“That’s it, take it doll,” He groans into your ear as he kisses and nips at your cheek and ear. “So good.” He moves one of his hands to trail down your side where it rests on your hip.

Your voice got lost in your throat as all you could do was moan and whimper a pathetic “Yes daddy,” every few seconds and every time you said it Seungcheol would find a new angle to make you say it louder and he’d accompany it with a smack to the side of your ass cheek - and when he felt like that side had enough attention hed switch to the other side.

“You’re getting tighter baby.” He moans instead of groans this time which causes you to squeeze around his cock tighter, the sound sending shockwaves through your body.

“So good~” You moan as you claw at his shoulders and scalp which draws more moans from him as he feels his orgasm approaching like a freight train.

“Oh fuck.” His hips stutter a little as he digs his nails into your hip to keep a grip on you as he quite literally fucks you into his desk.

“Right there daddy, fuck.” You gasp and lean your head back and bite your lip, your orgasm right there. “Daddy!” You squeal when he angles his hips up a little and hits your g-spot with precision, which finally draws you over the edge.

The force of your orgasm pulls Seungcheol over the edge with you as he groans your name lowly into your ear followed by gentle kisses to the side of your head as he continues to fuck his cum into you until both of your orgasms have been ridden out. Slowly he manages to pull himself from your grasp as he hisses at the loss of your warmth wrapping around him.

Pride swelled in Seungcheol’s chest as he looked down at your worn out state, your hair was a mess and little love bites adorn your neck like a necklace. The cherry on top of everything though was the way his cum seeped out of your weeping cunt and it has his cock twitching again.

“Still think I belong on Vogue?” You mumble a little shyly as you looked at the way he was just staring at you as you slowly sit up. When you hissed quietly he was quick to jump forward and help you.

“I’ll always think that,” He smiles as he picks your panties up from where he dropped them and helped you slip them on while you were still sitting on his desk. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

“Well I feel like I belong on Playboy,” You roll your eyes playfully at your own little joke towards yourself before you're smiling up at Seungcheol as you reach forward to fix his shirt as he tucks himself back into his boxers and pants. “And thank you, you're not too bad yourself sir.” He makes a little noise at the title.

“What’s Playboy?” He mumbles as he rubs soothingly at your hips while slowly helping you off his desk where you stand on wobbly legs.

“I’ll explain it later.” You giggle quietly before your stomach interrupts by rumbling. “I’m hungry now.”

“Sure it’s not a baby in there?” You laugh at him while smacking his side.

“Don’t jinx it or I’ll never get to have that threesome you promised me.” You joked playfully.

“Oh we’ll still have that threesome, darlin’.” He grabs his coat to drape it over your shoulders as he helps you walk to the door of his office. “But I don’t take too kind to sharin’ what’s mine.”

“Does that mean I’m yours?” He shrugs as he looks down at you.

“Are ya?” You try to hide your smile by biting your lip as you walk ahead of him down the stairs.

“Maybe I am.” You finally hum as you turn to look at him once you made it to the bottom of the stairs. “Does that mean you’re mine?”

“Maybe it does.” He smiles at you as he stops directly in front of you and grabs your hips to pull you against his body. “Never felt like this for someone so quick, like hell I’d let you go.” He mumbles before he’s kissing you gently, one of his hands moving up to cup the side of your face as your hands cup the sides of his neck gently.

“Well,” Mingyu’s voice was laced in a pout as he opened the door of the club, his arms full of bags. “Havin’ fun without me? I’m hurt.”

“Great timing, Gyu.” Seungcheol mumbles against your lips with a huff. You giggle quietly and pull away from Seungcheol completely to go and try and help Mingyu with what he was carrying. If it wasn’t for the look Seungcheol gave him he would’ve fought you harder to do it all himself.

“Did you get all your ingredients for lunch?” You hum as you follow the tall male into the kitchen, where he directs where to put the stuff you were holding.

“Yeah, the market wasn’t that packed yet thankfully, but it also meant I wasn’t as gone as long as I thought.” He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, we had plenty of time.” You snort at the way he almost fell when he whipped around to face you fully. “I’m hungry though so I’ll tell you the details later.”

“Deal, guess I gotta make a heavier lunch to make up for all the energy you two burnt.” He goes back to putting the groceries away, leaving you to wander back into the main room of the club where you expected Seungcheol to be but it was empty. Huffing quietly you sit at the bar and squeak a little at the feeling of your thighs becoming wet from the mess Seunghceol left in your panties.

“Sorry, I had to go grab somethin' from my office.” Seungcheol joins you in sitting down not even a minute after you had sat down.

“What is it?” You question curiously as he sets a small box in front of you.

“A welcome gift, was gonna give it to you Friday, but guess you were right about seein' you sooner.” He smiles as you happily open the box only to close the lid quickly and slid it back towards him.

“No.”

“No?” He tried to not sound hurt.

“That looks too expensive.” He seemed to be a little relieved at this answer.

“Don’t worry 'bout my money doll, besides you’re worth it.” He opens the box himself and pulls the little bottle of Chanel N°5 perfume. He opens the cap and gently grabs your wrist so he can spray a little bit onto it.

“I’ve never heard of Chanel.” You mumble as you bring your wrist up to smell the perfume and you almost sigh at how good it smells.

“Everyone is gonna know Chanel after they meet you.” He mumbles as he carefully puts the cap back on and puts it back in the box for you.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Cheol.” You look at him with raised eyebrows.

“You can call me Cheol when it’s just us and Gyu, and maybe Chan but he might tease me for it so try to refrain if you can.” He sighs quietly at the younger male’s antics.

“Ok Cheol.” You smile, loving the taste of his nickname on your tongue and Seungcheol seemed to like it just as much as his adam’s apple bobs.

“Ok love birds, try to not fuck on the bar please, don’t have time to disinfect it all.” Mingyu barges through the back door just as Seungcheol had leaned in to kiss you.

“It’s my bar, Gyu.” Seungcheol glares at him as he sits up straight.

“Not while I’m here, friend.” He laughs as he grabs three glasses so he could pour you all drinks.

“Was thinking of making gochujang garlic noodles with some bulgogi and kimchi on the side.” Mingyu hands you your glass.

“That sounds amazing, I haven’t had kimchi and bulgogi since the night before I left.” You take a small sip of your whiskey, the warmth filling your body.

“You’ve had those things before?” Seunghceol looks at you curiously while he takes a sip of his alcohol.

“Yeah, my neighbor was Korean and she’d cook all the time for me.” You give him a smile as you take another sip.

“She even knows a little Korean!” Mingyu chirps up as he goes back to the kitchen with his glass of plain cranberry juice.

“You do!?” He looks ecstatic as he jumps in to quizzing you on all the words you know while also teaching you a couple of his own favorite words while you two wait for Mingyu to finish cooking you lunch.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated, especially if you enjoyed the fic!

#svthub #svthub.collab #scoups #seungcheol #seugncheol smut #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seunghceol imagine #seventeen imagine #scoups fluff #scoups smut #scoups angst #scoups imagine

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mikaleialt · 5 months

Text

Ride It!| Bada Lee

Bada Lee x Reader

Fluff, suggestive, smut, drabble

Synopsis: In a random instagram live, your newly found fans after SWF 2, started asking you random questions about what do you think of each team leaders. For a quick background, you are one of the team leaders in SWF 2, but sadly your team got eliminated after the Crew Battle Mission, after getting defeated by Mannequeen on the elimination round along with Wolf'lo and Lady Bounce.

C/w: based off of this post by @westwoodsvivi. Honestly I just wrote this to finally end my writer's block as I have been gone for more than a month now.

Street Woman Fighter 2 is finally over and although your team didn't make it to the top 4, you still continued to support the other teams until the end, especially when the winner of SWF 2 is the team leaded by your girlfriend.

And now here you are, preparing for the On the Stage concert. All of the teams are in one place again, practicing the dance routines they've performed during SWF 2.

You were finally on break and some of the dancers of each team started goofing around with each other, filming tiktok dances together with Redy who seem to just stand in the background of every video. You laugh at how Redy looks like a lost child standing behind Che Che, Debby, and Yoonji as the trio dance.

Bored in your own world you decided to set up your phone as you sat in the corner of the studio, and finally hit the 'Go live' button after getting permission from the staffs who told you that it is fine as long as you don't spoil anything about the concert.

Viewers immediately flooded the comments and you tried your best to greet everyone. The viewer count goes up by the second.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii 🤎"

"OMG Y/NNNNN 🥹"

"Hi from 🇦🇱"

"Ano ba tayo, Y/n 😩 (what are we, Y/n)"

You read each comments from fans greeting you, to trying to make you say a phrase in their language, to asking you how you have been.

"I'm doing good, as you all know, we're preparing for the upcoming concert. We're actually on a break right now and everyone is doing their own thing. And here I am, in my own space." You picked up your camera as you show the empty dance practice room that you are in right now.

"Honestly, I got bored during our break so I went live" you chuckled. "Everyone has been really busy these days, and I miss talking to you guys." You sent the viewers a flying kiss, which made the comment section go wild.

"AAAAAAHHHH"

"EXCUSE ME⁉️⁉️"

"THAT KISS WAS DEFINITELY FOR ME"

You immediately got embarrassed as you are not used to giving out fan service or acting cute for other people. You give it a few seconds for the fans to finally calm down once again.

"Hmm, there's still much time until we go back to practicing again, what should I do? What do you guys think?" You read the comments once again as each viewers suggest something for you to do. After a few more minutes you finally settled to do a Q and A.

"What is today's TMI?" You read one of the comments as you ponder to yourself what could you share to your viewers . "Hmm, today I arrived at the studio crying because I was watching that one video of that kid from My Golden Kid." You giggled. "It was a very sad clip, I was crying the whole time while I was on my way here."

A few more question pops up after that and you tried your best to answer each one. "Who do you find attractive among the SWF 2 leaders?" You read another question.

"Me, of course" you flip your hair sassily before laughing to yourself. "No, in all honesty, it's gotta be Kirsten or Bada. They're both really charismatic." You answered.

"What part of them do you find attractive?" You read the follow up question.

"For Kirsten, it's probably her hips. I'm not gonna lie, when I saw Kirsten dance for the first time, my whole attention was on her hips..." you shyly admit to your viewers.

"...as for Bada... I really like her nose" you said without any explanation as memories from a few nights ago came back to you.

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

"A-ahh Bada" your breath staggers as you move your hips, grinding your wet core on your girlfriend's face.

It was the night after BEBE won SWF 2 and you told Bada that you'll do whatever she asks for if they win, which leads you to the situation that you are in right now.

Bada's only wish from you as a reward is for you to sit on her face as she eats you out, which you did without any hesitation.

"That's it ride my face, baby" Bada speak against your pussy as she continues to eat it like a starved man.

You couldn't help but moan louder as your clit presses on the tip of Bada's nose. You continue to grind your puffy clit against it, each movement makes you shiver, as your girlfriend's tongue fucks your cunt relentlessly.

"I-I'm gonna—hah" your eyes roll to the back of your head as the pleasure in your stomach builds up. "Yeah that's it, come for me baby" Bada said as she continues to eat you out.

Soon, a loud moan escapes from your lips as you finally had your release. Your legs were shaking as Bada continues to lap up your juices, each movement of her head under you, the tip of her nose touches your clit.

"So good to me baby, can you give me one more?" Bada sucks on your clit before diving back again into fucking your cunt with her tongue...

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

"Ok let's get back to work" Funky Y announces as she enters the room which snaps you back to reality.

"So yeah anyway, that would be all. See you at the On the Stage concert everyone. Byeeee" You immediately pressed the 'End live' button, before putting down your phone.

"Oh Y/n, so you're here all along" The rest of the dancers enter the room one by one.

"Unnie, why is your face so red?" Sowoen pointed out your face. To which made you turn red even more. The whole time you are reminiscing about that night, you were blushing like crazy.

"It's nothing, I was just feeling hot." You excused yourself, but little do you know, a certain someone was actually watching your live earlier.

Bada approached you as she whispers something to your ears.

"So you like me nose huh, why don't you ride my face again once we got home?"

A/n: it's been a while omg, I missed writing. I'm slowly regaining my motivation to write again finally!!! I hope you like it, sorry if its not as good as you guys thought it would be. This is just a quick drabble to finally break my writer's block, I did not proofread this.

#bada lee fanfic #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee x y/n #swf2 x reader #bada lee imagines #bada lee smut #bada lee #bada lee fluff #bada lee imagine #bada lee x fem reader #lee bada x reader #swf #Spotify

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badaspebble · 5 months

Note

Hi, lovely! I hope that you're doing well! May I please request smut fic with possessive/protective and jealous Bada x fem!reader? Where reader is Bada's gf but also a dancer, she's on team Bebe and like her gf, she captures the attention of many competitors, especially a certain Wolf'lo member by the name of Haechi.. who takes every chance she gets to flirt or touch her. Bada doesn't take to kindly to it when Haechi touches readers waist during a battle.

Hey baby! I’m doing good. I hope this is to your liking. Not very long unfortunately. :( There might be some mistakes in grammar.

I’m using the mobile app cause my laptop broke 🤓 yall gon’ have to stick with me

// ————————— \\

“All Mine”

Bada Lee x fem!reader

Summary - Being on SWF2 was great. Meeting new people who were also considered legends was an added plus. You caught many eyes, but one set of eyes in particular stayed on you the entire time. Bada notices, and so do you. Deciding to dance with Haechi wasn’t to make Bada jealous, but still. It’s only fair that Bada should do something about it.

Warnings: 18+ themes (Dom!Bada, possessive!Bada, semi-public sex, jealously, dirty talk, praise, cunnilingus, probably more idk)

Word count: 2.6k

MDNI

——————————————————————————

Being able to perform in Street Women Fighter was a reward in itself. That, paired with the fact you're with your girlfriend, was a dream come true. The women around you were known to be talented, so you were slightly nervous too. You knew that you danced well. It was shown through the numerous battles you had. You could tell they loved your dancing style, but still couldn’t help it when you compared yourself to the women who were legends. Doubt started to creep inside the corners of your mind.

“Baby?” A voice snapped you back to the present, realizing it was your girlfriend, Bada.

You looked at her and smiled, before subtly checking her out. You always loved the way she wore her hats.

“Yeah?” You asked, scooting a little closer to her, wanting to feel her warmth. Her eyes scan your face, giving you the comfort that another pair of eyes didn’t. You could feel a burning stare from somebody sitting in the section of Wolf’lo, knowing it was Haechi.

Bada smiled, bringing her hand around your waist subtly, pulling you more into her as she could sense your growing unease. “You okay baby? We don’t have to do this if you aren’t feeling too well.”

You smiled at her concern, feeling your heart beat faster as she puts her hand on your head and guides it towards her shoulder. “I’m okay…just nervous.” You giggle, reassuring her some more when you catch her concern growing. “I pinky promise.”

Bada sighed, her shoulders moving dramatically. “Are you sure? If somebody is making you uncomfortable, just tell me.” She said, giving a side eye to a specific crew. She clenched her jaw and looked back at you, her eyes swimming with subtle jealously.

You smirked and decided to tease her, loving her possessive side. “Are you jealous? Hm…” You pause dramatically, looking over at Haechi. “Isn’t she as tall as you? That’s so cool.” You say, leaning in slightly.

She smirked and looked down, looking at her lap. Before she could respond, your name was called by Daniel. As you got up, sweeping yourself off, you heard Bada mutter. “I’m better though…”

You turned around as you were walking towards the middle of the room, seeing her pout childishly. You giggled before turning back.

You blocked out Daniel’s voice, opting to look around at your opponents. When it came time for you to speak, you didn’t hesitate to choose Haechi to dance against. Her style was smooth, and she had a very strong aura.

Bada scrunched her eyebrows together, staring at Haechi as she smirked and walked towards you. Bada clenched her jaw, running her tongue over her teeth when she saw how Haechi didn’t hesitate to hug you.

You were taken aback when she went in for a hug, but accepted it nonetheless. You didn’t want to take this competition too seriously, opting for a more laid back, fun type of vibe. You saw Haechi subtly bite her lip out of the corner of your eye, but ignored it.

“Didn’t even hesitate to choose me, huh?” Haechi whispered with a smirk, stepping back slowly to give you room as your music started playing.

You smiled and ignored her, wanting your entire focus to be on your dancing.

Bada widened her eyes as you started dancing, quickly noticing how everybody else propped themselves up and paid close attention to you. Their gaze no longer tired.

‘Vibez’ by Zayn started playing, and you didn’t hesitate to start rolling your hips. Your aura changed completely, adding a hint of sexiness to your otherwise chill persona. The crews were screaming as you danced on Haechi, with her not wasting anytime before dancing back on you.

Bada looked at the scene with a clenched jaw. She took a deep breath before looking around her crew, hoping for one of them to take her mind off of the dancing in front of her. Her eyes rolled as she realized all of them were giving 110% of their attention to you. She looked back just in time to see you twerk on Haechi. Bada took a deep breath again, seeing Haechi’s hands on your waist and lower back.

You bit your lip, completely embracing the music. You noticed Haechi’s hands, but you let her be. You couldn’t help but to drink up Bada’s expression. Her eyes were dark, her leg was bouncing up and down. You giggled as you could see her jaw flex repeatedly.

Before you knew it, your dance was over. Haechi bit her bottom lip as she got ready to dance, wanting to impress you. Her own music started playing, and she immediately started doing impressive footwork to slide over towards you. Nodding your head, making a ‘stank’ face as you realized how good her moves were. It wasn’t long before she started incorporating touches in her dancing, dragging her hands along your body.

She didn’t have much time to do so, but she did one last move where she hooked her finger on your chin, making you look up towards her. Bada saw this and clenched her jaw, moving around uncomfortably.

After some brief talk by Daniel, the hosts revealed their cards. You won 2-1. As the judges were talking, you accidentally started blocking them out once you realized Bada’s stare. You made eye contact with her and she squinted, licking her lips while she tilted her head. You could see her breathing heavily, holding back the urge to interrupt the judges in order to drag you back to the team’s room.

Bada looked at the judges impatiently, wanting them to hurry up. Did they really need to talk this much? Her leg was still moving rapidly, and her tongue was poking her cheek. It felt like forever when they were finally done. In a mere 3 seconds, Bada was right next to you, pushing Haechi away subtly.

“Maybe you should back up, yeah?” Bada said possessively, not waiting for a response before she grabs your hand and walks you towards the team’s room.

You loved when she was possessive, but you loved even more when she would do the little things when she was in this mood, like locking your pinkies together which you noticed she did as soon as her hand touched yours.

Bada made sure to avoid the people trying to talk to you, wanting to hurry up and feel her girlfriend. The walk was quick, and before you knew it, you were thrown onto the couch.

“Who does she think she is? Touching what’s mine like that? In front of me too.” Bada muttered, not saying anything to you as she impatiently starts running her hands along your body. You were about to speak before you heard her mutter again. “All mine. Every single part of you belongs to me.”

She sat on your legs, rubbing your waist, as well as your thighs slowly, before digging her nails into your skin and dragging down towards your cunt. Hearing your breathing already picking up, she stops what she’s doing and removes her hands. “So fucking needy..” Bada mutters as she plays with your nipples through your shirt. She quickly realized that it wasn’t what she wanted, as she hurriedly took it off you, basically moving you around by herself. She pushed your sports bra up, freeing your breasts.

You whined at the way she was looking at you. Her eyes were dark and half-lidded. They were borderline watery as she held herself back from you. “Babe? Fuck, please do something. Need you so bad…” You whispered with broken moans. Bada didn’t hesitate to start playing with your nipples. She started soft at first, gently rubbing over them before she started letting herself go. She would apply just the right amount of pressure, making sure her nails gently scraped them.

You gasped as your body started tingling with each pass of her fingers on your nipples. “Gonna make you feel so good…can’t wait to mark you up.” Bada says before immediately attacking your neck. Her plump lips trailed to your pulse point, not hesitating to mark your neck. “Taste so good baby..”

Your body withered on the soft couch, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction. Your cunt was sticky, already dripping as you waited for Bada.

Bada moved herself down your legs some, removing her hands from your breasts. She rubbed your thighs more thoroughly, making sure to grip them harshly as she did so.

“So fucking sexy…god, you just can’t help but flaunt it, huh? Gotta show everybody how good you look? Show yourself off with my marks all over you.” Bada says possessively while her hands play with the hem of your shorts, pulling the waistband before letting it snap back. You moaned at the sensation, wanting her to hurry up.

“Bada-“ You were cut off when she pulled your shorts down slowly, leaving them wrapped around your ankles and leaving you in your panties.

“Shut up and be patient. Can’t make you feel as good when I’m rushing.” She says quietly, eyes locked onto how damp your panties are. She bit her lip as she ran her fingers near your cunt.

Your breath stuttered at her slight teasing. Her cold fingers are almost where you want her, but not quite. “Please…’m sorry baby. Please touch me.” You begged, hoping it would make her go faster.

“What’d I say?” Bada growled slightly, slapping your thigh. “Need to savor what Haechi wishes she had…”

After she did that, Bada slowly brought her fingers near your cunt, making sure to let her nails run across your skin. It wasn’t long before she ran her fingers across your cunt, applying light pressure when she passed over your clit.

“So fucking wet for me, hm? You’re not like this for anybody else. All this is only for me.” She said, not giving you time to respond as she took your panties off, not wanting to ruin them despite her mood. Bada licked her lips as she saw your thighs trembling already. She gets closer to your cunt before bringing her nimble fingers to play with your wetness. Her moan startles you, making you pay closer attention at how worked up she is.

“Can you please make me feel good Bada? Let Haechi hear how good you make me feel…please” You mumble out, too distracted when you see her playing with your wetness. She continues to bite her lip as she finally starts circling your clit gently. “Such a good girl for me…so obedient when you’re about to get fucked.” Bada mutters into your thigh before giving it a chaste kiss.

You open your mouth as she puts more pressure on your clit, slowly licking your folds. “Bada…please baby..” You beg, not sure for what. It seems to work as Bada continues playing with your clit before slowly putting her tongue inside of your cunt, making sure to gather up as much of your wetness as she could.

The sound of her tongue inside of your cunt is downright filthy. It doesn’t help that her moans are loud even when her face is smothered between your thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Could stay like this forever. Love making you feel like this.” Bada mumbled into your cunt. The vibrations from doing so made you moan loudly. You were going to cover your mouth, but you felt like letting Bada hear your moans would reassure her.

Bada heard you try to say something, but your words were incoherent. Your mind was mush as Bada curled her tongue, before moving up to your clit and sucking harshly. Her fingers teased your hole for a couple seconds before she could resist no longer. She slipped her middle finger inside slowly, barely curling it before she slipped her ring finger inside as well. Bada smirked as she sucked your clit, hearing your breathing almost stop as you struggled to get sounds out due to the pleasure.

“Too fucking good…’s too much-“ You whined out before getting interrupted as her fingers started doing a ‘come hither motion’ while also scissoring them. A talent she found out she could do on accident. Bada felt a gush of wetness trickling towards the middle of her palm. She so badly wanted to lap it up, but her focus on your clit was more important.

The sounds in the room were loud. Moans and breathless whispers could be heard, along with Bada’s fingers entering and leaving your cunt.

“F-fuck babe…gonna make a mess all over your pretty face.” You said, digging your head into the armrest as your hands flew to her hair, tugging on it. “Makin’ me feel so good..” You whispered as you lost your breath quickly.

Bada giggled into your cunt as you pulsed around her fingers. “Could Haechi make you feel like this? Would you let her mark you up?”

You couldn’t answer her as her fingers went faster. You mumbled nothings into the air as you felt the pressure begin to grow stronger.

She gently nipped your sensitive clit. “You should answer me if you want to ‘make a mess all over my pretty face’, right?” She mocked you.

You let out a silent scream from the mix of pain and pleasure, eyes rolling back as your lower stomach heats up quick.

“Please please please please…” You mumble a million times, saying anything to cum. “Please make me cum baby…Haechi doesn’t even compare to you, I promise.” You basically yelled out as Bada full on laughed into your cunt, going faster.

“Go on, cum for me. Be my good girl and make a mess for me.” Bada leaned back, still fingering you as your wetness coated her hand. You borderline screamed as you finally let go. She didn’t hold back like before, not wasting another second to lap up her slick covered hand. Bada was breathing heavily by the time she stopped. She would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for your hand tugging her hair.

Bada climbed up to you, sitting on your waist before leaning down and bumping noses with you. “Are you okay?” She asked, cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb across it.

You nodded, still out of breath. “Yeah…’m more than okay baby. Thank you for making me feel so good.” You rub your nose against hers before giggling.

Bada sighed and sat up, looking at your bruised skin. “She better take the hint this time…” She muttered, running her fingers across your neck and slowly down towards your breasts. Bada looked into your eyes, giving you a naughty smirk. You bit your lip and put your hands on her waist, slowly starting to make her grind on your stomach. Before you guys could go any further, you heard a knock.

“Uhm…….” A long silence followed. “Are you guys done yet? We’re kind of hungry.” You both heard Lusher’s voice, with multiple giggles following suit. Your face started to heat up and you looked at Bada. The tips of her ears were starting to get red as she also looked at you with wide eyes.

You giggled quietly at her because she looked like an embarrassed puppy. “Come on, I’m kind of hungry too.” You whisper, slowly rubbing her thighs. Bada sighed in disappointment before helping you clean yourself up. You looked at her one more time, almost laughing in her face as she pouted adorably.

Bada opened the door, the tips of her ears getting even more red as BEBE just stared at you guys. The silence was long and awkward, until Tatter spoke up.

“So anyways…Latrice was eating up out there!”

You gave up and laughed at her attempt to switch the subject, making Bada hit you on the arm before giving an awkward smile. You guys followed them, staying towards the back as you and your group walked somewhere to get food. You looked at Bada, seeing her look behind everybody. Looking back too, you see Haechi staring at you. Bada smirked, lightly smacking your ass as she mouthed ‘this bitch is mine’ before turning away. You blushed, walking faster to catch up with the group.

#bada lee swf #bada lee fluff #bada lee smut #bada x reader #bada lee #lee bada #bada lee x reader #fem!reader #anon ask #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee swf2

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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

Text

When witches turn eighteen years old, it’s customary for them to be sent out into the world, to practice their magic and find their calling. So when Eddie Munson’s birthday passes in July, he packs a suitcase, says goodbye to his Uncle Wayne—the best garden witch in the tri-county area, ask anyone!—zips his cat into the neck of his leather jacket (whom he’d cleverly named Kitty when he was six years old), climbs on his broom, and sets off for the city on the coast.

Once he gets there, Eddie’s not entirely sure where to go. He’s never actually been to the city before, but he’d heard so many stories—from classmates and friends, from travelers passing through his small town who’d come searching for Wayne’s recipes, from the witches who returned after their year-long apprenticeships—that he’d known since he was thirteen that he had to see it for himself. He wanders the cobblestone streets with his broom and his bag and marvels at the crowds. He watches a magician perform on the street—doesn’t miss it when he slips a card up his sleeve or shifts a coin through his fingers, but it still makes him smile—before he stumbles onto a ‘help wanted’ sign in a shop window. Kitty lets out a tiny meow from where she’s tucked under Eddie’s chin, like she’s trying to get his attention. Eddie glances down at her and she shifts her gaze from his face to the sign and back again.

“Alright, I hear ya,” Eddie murmurs, grinning and cupping a hand over her head for a quick pet.

A tiny bell jingles overhead as Eddie pushes open the front door. Immediately, he’s met with the smell of baking bread and sugary frosting. He breathes deep, giving Kitty another pat on her head. He stands at the counter for a moment before a boy around his age appears from the back room.

“Hi, welcome to The Bakery. What can I help you with?” The boy is grinning wide, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. He’s got soft brown hair and eyes to match. Eddie meets his gaze and feels himself blush.

“Um, you have a ‘help wanted’ sign in your window?” Eddie hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the sign.

“Oh! Yeah, we just put that up today actually. We’re looking for a delivery person,” the boy is still grinning, eyeing Eddie’s broom. “I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand over the counter for Eddie to shake.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hand is surprisingly soft when Eddie shakes it.

“The job comes with a room over the bakery, our hours are from 6am to 5pm every day but Thursday, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

“Oh, um. Just like that?”

Steve grins again. “I may not be smart, but even I know not to turn away a witch when one comes knocking.” He knocks his knuckles against the wooden counter and Eddie returns his smile. “Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Steve turns to head back the way he came and Eddie takes a moment to look down at Kitty. She blinks at him, all-knowing, and it makes Eddie blush again. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her before following behind Steve.

He follows Steve out the bakery’s back door and up a set of wooden stairs that lead from the garden to a small deck, where Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the two doors. He gestures for Eddie to step through the doorway before following behind him.

“The room is furnished, there’s a small stove there in the corner with a sink and a washroom just over there,” Steve gestures to a door on the opposite wall from the tiny bed. “My apartment’s the next door over and I have a full kitchen, which you’re welcome to use if you need to. Here’s your key,” Steve drops the warm piece of metal into Eddie’s palm, “and I’ll have the spare key to my place and the bakery for you tomorrow. Make yourself at home and head down to the bakery tomorrow morning.” Steve pats him on the shoulder before heading back out of the tiny room and down into the bakery.

Eddie is left to do nothing but blink at the empty space Steve had left behind. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he’s landed both a job and a place to stay. Not bad for his first day in the city.

~*~

A year passes and Eddie is happy. He writes to Wayne and tells him all about Steve and the recipes he tries out in the bakery. Tells Wayne that he suspects that Steve might have some witch blood he doesn’t know about; the things he can do with buttercream are pure magic. Eddie visits Wayne once for his birthday—it’s a long way by broom—weighed down by pastries and cakes that Steve insists he take home with him.

Eddie starts to learn the landscape of the city, learns when to fly over the coastline and when to keep tight to the city streets. He makes his own posters, starts to do some deliveries after hours too, which leads him to meet all sorts of interesting people. He meets artists and performers, writers and teachers, even the man who services the big clock at the center of the city (which Eddie finds particularly impressive).

He spends time with Steve. Steve is funny and smart, despite what he’d said the first day Eddie had met him. He can cook, not just bake, and he insists that Eddie joins him for dinner at least three nights a week. At first, Eddie had tried to say no to Steve’s invitations, thinking that Steve was just being polite, but Steve had insisted and Eddie realized that Steve was actually pretty lonely. He wasn’t from the city and he didn’t have much family; he’d come here when his parents had died. He’d apprenticed with an older woman named Claudia, who’d left the bakery to him when she’d retired not too long ago. Steve’s eyes go soft whenever he mentions her. Her son, Dustin, still helps them around the bakery three days a week, counting down the days until he leaves for university (he only ever relays the amount of days and Eddie’s pretty bad at math, but by his count, Dustin’s still got about three years to go).

Steve also talks about his best friend, Robin, who’s away at art school. Steve is hoping when she comes back in the spring, she’ll work at the bakery decorating the cakes. Eddie’s surprised to learn that Robin is also a witch; he hadn’t known many witches to go to art school.

The year passes in dinners and picnics, in deliveries and odd jobs, and when spring is finally turning over into summer again, Robin arrives home to the bakery.

“Stevie!” A voice calls from the front of the shop, scratchy and warm, drowning out the jingle of the bell. Eddie is sat on the counter in the back room, completely entranced by the way Steve’s arm muscles jump under his skin as he kneads bread dough. He’s barely listening to some story Steve’s telling about something Dustin had done the other day.

Eddie watches as Steve stops what he’s doing completely. “Robbie?” A smile spreads across Steve’s face, quick and involuntary. He doesn’t even pause to wipe his hands before he’s rushing into the front of the shop. Eddie watches through the door as a pretty girl with short blond hair throws her arms around Steve’s neck. He lifts her off the ground, spinning her around, leaving flour fingerprints across the back of her navy t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Steve asks when he’s finally returned her to an upright position on her own two feet.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, dingus.” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he half-heartedly tries to shove her away.

Watching them, Eddie feels something tighten in his chest that he can’t quite explain. He knows this is Robin—he’s seen pictures of her before—knows she’s Steve’s best friend, but this is more than mere friendship. This is something else entirely. Something magic. Eddie’s a good witch. He knows true love when he sees it.

“You have to meet Eddie,” Steve says before calling through the doorway, “Eddie, come meet Robin!”

Eddie hops off the counter and does as he’s told.

~*~

A few weeks later, Eddie wakes with a pounding headache. There’s a breeze coming through his window off the coast and it makes him shiver. He coughs and looks around for Kitty, but she isn’t curled in her usual spot on his pillow. Eddie sniffles.

He pulls himself from his bed and feels dizzy. He washes his face and drinks some orange juice before he heads down to the bakery.

“Wow, you look awful,” Robin says by way of greeting. She grimaces as he comes through the doorway.

“Gee thanks,” Eddie grumbles half-heartedly in her direction. His voice sounds heavy and hoarse.

Steve crosses the room from where he stands in front of the ovens and presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead. “Eddie, you’re burning up. You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup later.” He pushes Eddie in the direction of the back door.

“But the deliveries,” Eddie mumbles, eyes already half closing as he dreams of getting back into his sleep-warm bed.

Steve smiles softly. “Don’t worry. Robin and Dustin can handle it.” Eddie glances behind Steve at Robin, who nods at Eddie reassuringly.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper and then he’s stumbling back up the stairs and falling into his bed. He wonders again where Kitty’s run off to.

~*~

Eddie is in and out of consciousness for three days. He has strange dreams, some of them nightmares where monsters chase after him as he tries to fly away on his broom; others are about Steve and Robin and even Dustin, good dreams of the life he’s made here for himself.

Steve keeps his promise and brings him soup every day, helping Eddie sit up against his pillows and even helping Eddie spoon the broth into his mouth. Eddie thinks he maybe should be a little embarrassed about it, but it’s so nice and comforting that he can’t. It reminds him of home, of recipes from Wayne’s garden.

Robin comes to sit with him on the second night, stroking his hair and humming lullabies while he drifts off.

On the third day, when Eddie is starting to feel better, Kitty finally reappears. Eddie asks her where she’d run off to, but she doesn’t answer. She’s been keeping secrets lately.

~*~

After three days, Eddie finally returns to work. Steve gives him the first delivery, tells him Dustin and Robin can continue to help out, just for a few days, so Eddie doesn’t overexert himself. Eddie nods.

He ties the tiny pastry box to the handle of his broom and mounts it on the sidewalk outside. He kicks off from the cobblestones. Nothing happens. Flying had always come easily to Eddie. It was second nature to him, something he never really had to think about. Not all witches could fly, but Eddie can’t really remember a time when he couldn’t.

He tries to kick off from the sidewalk again. Again, nothing happens. Eddie can feel the panic rise in his chest. He swallows, tries again. Still nothing.

He hears himself let out a small whimper and he’s glad Steve’s gone back inside and can’t hear him. He glances through the shop window and sees Robin’s clever eyes watching him. She meets his gaze. He can see the naked concern there. He swallows again.

He climbs off the broom and unties the package. He carries both as he re-enters the bakery.

“Something’s wrong,” he says to Robin and Steve.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks coming out of the back room again.

“Dunno,” Eddie replies. “Broom’s broken or something. Can’t fly.” He shakes the broom in his hand.

“Does that happen?” Steve’s brow furrows. Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe you’re still sick,” Robin says. “You should go back to bed. Try again in a few days.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Eddie looks down at his feet. He passes the box to Robin and then decides she’s right. Decides he should go back to bed.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve says, reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Robin and Dustin can keep doing the deliveries for a little while.”

~*~

Eddie’s magic doesn’t come back. It’s not just the flying either. Kitty stays away longer. Eddie finds himself misunderstanding her more often than not. He keeps messing up simple cleaning spells and the easy home remedies he’s been brewing since before he can remember.

He takes his broom out every night and under the cover of darkness tries and tries and tries again. Sometimes he feels eyes watching him from Steve’s apartment, but when he glances up, all he can see is the flutter of curtains.

~*~

After three weeks of a miserable, magic-less existence, Robin knocks on the door of Eddie’s small room.

“Wanna talk?” She asks from the doorway.

Eddie considers saying no. Instead he nods and gestures toward his small kitchen table. She sits.

“I saw you practicing,” she says, diving right in.

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t try to deny it or even play dumb and ask what she means. She’s a witch. She’ll know. “Flying used to be like breathing. I didn’t even notice I was doing it half the time. Think I learned to fly before I could even walk. Now it’s all I think about. Feels like something’s missing now, like my lungs or, like, a part of my heart or something.”

Robin nods, knowing. “That happened to me, you know. Lost my magic. Felt like I lost an arm.”

Eddie swallows. “What helped get it back?”

“I met Steve,” she says softly, a fond smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I left home earlier than other witches. I never really fit in. I wanted to go to school. Didn’t know if I even wanted to practice my magic at all. My parents said if I stuck it out, I could leave when I was fourteen. So I did. I waited and counted the days and finally it was time. Spent a year in the city. I loved it. But then, one of my friends… something happened to her.” Robin looks sad and twists her fingers together, fidgeting. “She had to leave the city. When she left, I got really sick. Couldn’t do magic for almost a year.”

“A year?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open. “I can’t not fly for a whole year.”

Robin hums. “You figure it out. You have to. Some days it’s more noticeable than others.”

“But you met Steve. And you got your magic back?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah. It’s like that saying, you know the one? ‘True love makes the best magic.’” She says it like she’s said it a hundred thousand times before.

Eddie grumbles. “Don’t think I’m gonna fall in love and magically fix my flying problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say anything about falling in love.” Robin smiles again, big and bright this time. “There’s more than one kind of true love.”

~*~

Eddie thinks about what Robin had said to him for days. He turns it over in his mind again and again and again.

He starts laying out treats for Kitty. He misses her. Even before he got sick and lost his magic, he’d started to leave her behind more and more on his deliveries. He’d realized he could fly faster without worrying about her falling from inside his jacket.

She’s hesitant, but she starts coming back more. When they sleep, she returns to her place on Eddie’s pillow and Eddie feels good with the soft, warm weight of her next to his head as he slowly drifts into sleep.

Before he’d gotten sick, he’d taken on too many deliveries. He’d stopped having time to chat with the customers, to hear the little stories of their lives, of cleaning the clock tower at the center of town or a new plot point one of the writers had just figured out. He’d missed hearing the explanations of what celebrations he was delivering cupcakes or tarts or heart-shaped cakes for. Delivering on foot gave him a lot more time to stop and watch the street performers, to help tourists with directions. On foot, Eddie began to appreciate the city again, like he had before, when he’d first gotten here. When it felt like he’d been dropped right into the center of a dream realized.

He starts having more dinners with Robin and Steve. He’d stopped doing it so much, not wanting to feel like a wonky third wheel. But they slot him in right next to them, right in the middle. They fill him in on inside jokes and old stories. Sometimes Dustin joins them and Eddie tells stories of Wayne and the strange people who used to appear on their doorstep in search of some of his magic.

Eddie starts to feel happy again.

~*~

A week after he talked to Robin, Eddie brings his broom out into the center of the street. It’s close to dusk, the sun low in the sky, and the bakery is closed for the day. Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, waiting.

Eddie breathes deep. He swallows. Breathes again. And then he mounts his broom like he has a million times before. He grips the polished handle. He feels it thrum beneath his fingertips. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and kicks off from the cobblestones.

There’s a strange sort of hush to the street. Eddie can’t tell if he’s in the air. He squints an eye open and sees Steve, Robin, and Dustin waving up at him. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He lets out a shout.

He does a few circles around, just above their heads, while they all scream and clap for him. Eddie can’t help but laugh. He’d missed this.

When he finally lands, they all rush to hug him. Dustin lets go first and then Steve.

Robin’s arms are still around him when she whispers into his ear, low enough so only he can hear it. “See? True love magic.” Eddie smiles again and gives her one last tight squeeze before letting go.

Dustin and Robin head back inside, leaving Steve and Eddie to stare at each other in the empty street. Steve is still grinning, his hands in his pocket.

“How’s it feel?” Steve nods toward the broom.

“Feels like breathing,” Eddie tells him, closing the space between them. Steve’s cheeks flush and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick from Eddie’s gaze down to his lips and back again. Steve licks his own lips. “Feels like home.”

Steve is breathing a little harder now as Eddie continues to slowly close the distance between them.

“Feels like magic,” Eddie whispers, before he brushes his lips against Steve’s. He pulls back slightly. “Feels like love.” Steve’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling Eddie in close for a real and proper kiss, right there in the empty street, under the setting sun.

now on ao3 :)

(For @outpastthebrakers for commenting on the post where I mentioned this!!!! Warning: this was fully written under the influence of a sleeping pill in abt an hour and a half. Don’t hold that against me :P)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stobin #platonic stobin #Eddie munson is a witch #Robin buckley is a witch #Robin buckley #Kiki’s delivery service au #steddie au #steddie fluff #sorry abt not putting a read more I still can’t figure it out on mobile despite 3000 of you trying to explain. it to me #I’m too exhausted to fix it rn literally abt to pass out as we speak

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unalivejournal · 5 months

Text

imagine a tumblr simulator set in the velvet goldmine universe lmfao

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🎹 wilderatz Follow

DNI if you still support br*an sl*de after the shooting hoax. what he did was fucking unacceptable and pathetic. the panic and heartbreak on the dashboard that day was absolutely traumatizing. and the fact that it was all for cheap publicity makes it even more despicable. if you HAVE to listen to his records the least you could do is buy them secondhand

#so glad curt never cut that record with him

186 notes

⭐️ glittersisgay

i got new boots! seeing the flaming creatures tonight :-) life is good

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👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

sorry but the sladewild narrative is CRAAAAZY. like imagine you start off as a nobody performer and becoming enthralled by this rockstar after he shows up your act and you end up becoming famous by being inspired by his stage presence AND YOU BECOME FAMOUS ENOIGH TO GO TO AMERICA AND MEET THIS GUY AND YOUR LABELS START FABRICATING A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN U TWO TO GENERATE PUBLICITY FOR YOUR NEW ALBUM BUT THEN YOU ACTUALLY FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT THEN THE PAPARAZZI FINDS OUT AND YOU HAVE A HUGE FALLING OUT BUT THEN A FEW WEEKS LATER YOURE SPOTTED IN THE CROWD AT THE DEATH TO GLITTER SHOW

♻️ 🦷 roxytunes Follow

lmfao WHAT are you talking about. swear to god i’m sick of you invasive freaks trying to make things up about real peoples lives. the part about the labels trying to market slade and wild as a couple isn’t even true. yes they were heavily publicized as close friends but they never admitted to being in a relationship. also receipts on brian being at the death to glitter show???? stop spreading false information

♻️ 👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

anyways watch out for my new sladewild maxwell demon tour era fic that will be published in my next zine 💋

#my mutual was literally next to him in the crowd.

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🪩 girlboydragdemon

at the Sombrero Club with the glamrocktuals YAYYYY

♻️ 🪩 girlboydragdemon

Hangover.

#we may have made. mistakes. #also we think brian slade’s former manager was in the booth behind us

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🌟 venusinpurrs

♻️ 🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

WHY ARE WE PITTING THREE BAD BITCHES AGAINST EACH OTHER

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

better question WHY ARE VENUS IN FURS LOSING GUYS CMON ITS OBVIOUSLY THE RATS

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

do you people hate dykes

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💋 jack-fairy-fan51 Follow

Anyone else feel like this Tommy stone guy showed up out of nowhere?

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❇️ 20th-cxntury-bxy

Well…. it’s been a fun time on the road with Malcolm & co. (@/theflamingcreatures) but in the months following the hoax and the death to glitter tribute I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to move on. idk. i know there’s still an active tumblr community but in the real life scene it feels like everyone’s just…. given up. I’ll be starting a new job soon and won’t have a lot of time to post. Might delete this blog in the near future. remember to support local shows and keep being yourself

#a.journal

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👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

word on the street is that mandy slade divorced brian???? lmao get his ass

♻️👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

[#finally i have a chance with her]

you’re funny if you think any of us on this site have an inkling of a chance with her

2,658 notes

🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

Just found this on the sidewalk. does anyone know what it is?

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hadesoftheladies · 5 months

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female separatism isn’t about preference or “hating men.” i wish people would understand that separatism is vital to our health as women right now. one of the biggest things patriarchy has taken from us is MOBILITY and HEALTH. can you imagine a world where you wouldn’t be harassed for wanting to be tended to by only women? where female doctors and nurses that knew and prioritized female biology tended to you? streets where you could stroll and not feel a sliver of self-consciousness. where walking didn’t have to be a performance or a race from a man whistling at you?

i used to love going down to the river running at the bottom of the hill where my grandmother’s house sat. now I start to see more and more farm boys and farm men bathing in the spots I loved to rest in. I can’t be free even out there in the country. I have to be chaperoned. go in twos and threes. I can’t WANDER. i can’t run into the wild or bathe in the river. I can’t bask shirtless in the sun.

do women know how physically constrained we are? in corsets and brad and tight dresses because we must always prioritize aesthetics over happiness. we conflate approval and relief for joy. it drives me mad when I see the freedom men have. how wide their strides. how they can break out in a wrestle. how they aren’t taught to deform their bodies. how they are encouraged to nurture their physical power.

I wanted to go to the gymn by my neighbourhood, and my dad got annoyed with me. because it wasn’t safe. the only other segregated gymn in my whole city is miles away and unaffordable.

I taste separatism every time i sleepover at one of my sisters or we go on a retreat together. we can say anything. we relax. we bond and listen to each other. in all our different personalities.

but when there’s men in the conversation, everything becomes tedious. the banter becomes low hanging fruit. the conversation becomes competitive and thoughtless. it’s all about saying the most ludicrous thing for attention. it drags into politics of the worst kind.

and it poisons relationships. my sisters get a little meaner about other women. it’s so subtle and quick you wouldn’t notice it.

I long to be able to reach for women in history and not hunt for their names. not wade through the stories of their husbands or fathers before getting to them. I long for a world where female artists didn’t have to prostitute themselves for the male gaze, didn’t have to cripple their work by being nice to men.

even now in the modern age where information is more accessible than ever, you have to cut through so much noise to get to the voices of women. you have to cut through sob stories for killers and rapists before you get to the victims. you have to wade through male greats to get to their female predecessors.

if men aren’t talking over women, women are quieting themselves or too busy clamoring for another man’s attention, because his approval is power.

I want to show up to work without being condescended by a man who feels threatened by me. I am tired of censoring myself for male comfort.

who would I be, what could I do, if my movement, my body, my self-determination was not constantly suppressed. how many thoughts have I not allowed myself to think because the cost of speaking was too inconvenient?

cutting off male friends that violated my boundaries has already improved my quality of life, what would happen if I could be free of all of them?

I’d be healthier. happier. I’d be so much happier.

#radblr #feminism #radfem #separatism #female separatism

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mysteryshoptls · 6 months

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SSR Ace Trappola - Playful Dress Voice Lines

When Summoned: Bright and neon lights galore! Maybe being a superstar is my true calling?

Summon Line: It's awesome we get to go to an amusement park, and it's not even a holiday break. This is no time to be sittin' at a desk doing homework.

Groooovy!!: If I gotta be a part of a show, I'm gonna make sure to stand out. C'mon, hurry it up, you get up on the stage, too.

Home: Just gotta make this the time of my life!

Swap Looks: Man, what's going on?

Home Idle 1: Fellow-san is real friendly and easy to talk with. Totally thought he was a bit sus in the beginning, though.

Home Idle 2: Pretty sure snapping pics should be secondary to enjoying the park... But the pic that Cater-senpai took of me looks totally rad!

Home Idle 3: Found the arcade! Since we're all here, lets play a game together. Nooow, what should the penalty game for the losers be?

Home Idle - Login: Alllright, what should we start with? It's been a while since I've been to an amusement park, so I'm super excited.

Home Idle - Groovy: Oh hey, it's almost our turn. That line was crazy long, but I guess it moved pretty fast while we we were chatting away, huh?

Home Tap 1: What, didja find something cool? A street performance, huh... I mean, cool, but ridin' all the roller coasters should be our main priority!

Home Tap 2: There's salted, chocolate-covered, and cheese-flavored... They've got way too many kinds of popcorn here! But meh, as long as we got Grim, I'm sure that'll be no problem.

Home Tap 3: I'm getting sweaty from all this walkin' around. I'm definitely doing the water ride next! Gonna get soaked in water to cool off.

Home Tap 4: The embroidery on my outfit and the cape is super detailed. It's pretty cool, but... I'm a little worried I'm gonna snag it on something～

Home Tap 5: What, tired already? Oh hey, they're handing out drinks over there, so why don't you go get one? And then bring me one, too!

Home Tap - Groovy: Pfft, your hair is all over the place from all the wind. Sooo laaame… Eh, mine, too!?

Duo: [ACE]: I'm gonna trounce 'em all, Vil-senpai. [VIL]: Oh my, show me what you can do, Ace.

Requested by @thelonepearl.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #vil schoenheit #twst ace #twst vil #twst translation #twst playful land #mention: fellow #mention: cater #mention: grim

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pucksandpower · 8 months

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Eurovisionaries

Charles Leclerc x Monegasque singer!Reader

Summary: the “Charles Leclerc competes in Eurovision” fic no one asked for but I wrote anyway

Warnings: none that I can think of

“Why is Charles Leclerc trending in the music section?” You wonder aloud, eyes narrowing as you see the pop-up notification on your Twitter.

Opening the app, you’re met with a tweet from an official Eurovision updates account: “🇲🇨 #Monaco: Eligible to Compete in the #Eurovision Song Contest 2024.” Below it, Charles Leclerc, Monaco’s pride and F1 sensation extraordinaire, has replied to the tweet with a sly “I’m ready 🎤.”

You can’t help but laugh. The thought of Charles taking the Eurovision stage is hilarious. You respond to the tweet, “Ever considered a duet? Though I would advise keeping your day job for now 🏎️😉.” Notifications instantly start pouring in, a flurry of likes and retweets.

Your phone buzzes, a call from your manager, Rosa. “Did you see the Leclerc tweet?” She starts without preamble.

“Of course. The entire principality probably has by now,” you chuckle, imagining the reactions of Monegasque citizens.

Silence. A beat too long.

“What?” You probe, sensing her hesitance.

Rosa exhales deeply, “The Monegasque Eurovision committee called me.”

You sit up, “About the tweet?”

“More than that. They’re seriously considering him.”

“For Eurovision?” You're incredulous, “He’s a racer, not a singer.”

She hesitates, “That’s where you come in.”

A long pause ensues. The weight of her words settles around you. Rosa is never one for jokes, especially when it comes to your career.

“They want you to team up with him,” she continues, breaking the silence, “He can compose and play but they need a voice. Your voice.”

The gravity of the situation dawns on you. Representing Monaco in Eurovision is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity but with Charles? Someone you’ve only admired from afar on the circuit?

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You voice your concerns. “Our styles, our personalities ... they could clash.”

“It’s a risk, yes. But it’s also an opportunity. Both for your career and for Monaco,” Rosa reasons.

You look out of the window, the streets of Monaco stretching below. The pride of representing your nation battles with the uncertainty of this potentially bizarre partnership.

“I need some time, Rosa,” you whisper.

She understands. “Take all the time you need. But remember, some of the best things in life come from taking the most unexpected turns.”

As you hang up, Charles’ tweet flashes on your screen again, the confident smile in his profile picture making you wonder if this journey is one you should embark on.

***

“Are you sitting down?” Rosa’s voice is tense, filled with an urgency you rarely hear from her.

You shuffle around in your apartment, finding a chair by the window. “I am now. What’s up?”

She takes a deep breath, her exhale echoing over the line. “The committee’s made their decision. They want Charles Leclerc for Eurovision.”

You almost drop your phone. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” she replies, her tone betraying her surprise as much as yours. “And they want you to partner with him.”

The world seems to blur around you. Images of the grand Eurovision stage, the cheering crowds, and a sea of flags swirl through your mind, and the idea of standing there, alongside someone like Charles, is surreal.

“This is ...” you trail off, searching for words.

“Insane? Unprecedented? A media goldmine?” Rosa supplies, ever the pragmatist.

“All of the above.” The weight of the offer hangs between you, punctuated by the distant sounds of Monaco outside your window.

“What did you tell them?” You ask, after a moment of heavy silence.

“I told them we’d think about it,” Rosa says. “But darling, this is huge. For your career, for Charles, for Monaco!”

You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’ve never even met him. What if we don’t click? What if we can’t perform together? What if—”

“What if you soar?” Rosa interrupts gently. “What if this is the push both of you need?”

You consider her words, the promise they hold. But the fear remains. “What if I fall?”

Rosa’s voice softens. “Then you get back up, just as you always have. But you won’t be doing it alone. You’ll have all of Monaco behind you.”

The conversation weighs on you long after you’ve hung up. Charles Leclerc, Monaco’s golden boy, and you? It feels like a dream, one you’re not sure you want to wake up from.

That night, as Monaco’s lights twinkle beneath your apartment, a notification lights up your phone. An email with an official Monegasque Eurovision committee letterhead:

We are pleased to extend to you an official invitation to represent Monaco at the Eurovision Song Contest 2024 in an act alongside Charles Leclerc. Details to follow.

The reality sets in. And it terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.

***

“Are you the singer?” The voice unmistakably belongs to Charles, though softer than the confident tone you’ve heard in his interviews.

You turn, your heart doing a tiny flip. He’s leaning against a grand piano in the center of the room, looking more perfect in casual jeans and a t-shirt than he has any right to. You have to remind yourself to breathe for a moment.

“Are you the racer?” You shoot back, attempting to mask your nervousness with humor.

He laughs, “Touche.”

Both of you approach the piano, the room filled with an almost tangible tension. He extends a hand. “Charles.”

You shake it, feeling the calloused fingertips, likely from handling the wheel so often. “I know. And you probably don’t know me, but ... it’s Y/N.”

“I’ve heard your songs on YouTube,” he admits, releasing your hand. “You have an incredible voice.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, surprised and flattered. “You … drive really fast?”

He laughs again, easing some of the tension. “I try.”

The two of you start the rehearsal, with Charles taking the lead on the piano. The notes are hauntingly beautiful, full of emotion. You find yourself getting lost in the music, your voice blending seamlessly with the tune.

But suddenly, Charles stops playing. “Sorry,” he says, a hint of frustration in his voice. “I’m not used to this. Playing in front of someone.”

You blink, taken aback. “You’re not used to performing?”

“Not like this. Racing, I get. This is … different,” he confesses, running a hand through his hair.

You nod, understanding his fear. “Let’s take it slow. We have time.”

He looks up, his eyes searching yours. “Do we? Eurovision is just around the corner and I will be away a lot of the time for races.”

You take a deep breath. “Every journey starts with a single step. Let’s just focus on today.”

You play and sing for hours, taking breaks when needed. The connection, while still tentative, starts to form. By the end of the session, a shaky version of your Eurovision song emerges.

“I think … I think we could actually pull this off,” Charles admits as you pack up.

“With a lot more practice,” you reply, smiling.

He grins, the confidence you expected from him back in full form. “Challenge accepted.”

Walking out of the studio, you can’t help but feel a tiny flutter of excitement. This partnership, as unlikely as it seemed, might just work.

***

“I’ve never been to this bistro,” Charles admits, looking around the quaint little place you’ve chosen.

“It’s a hidden gem. My little escape in Monaco,” you reply, sipping your tea. “Sometimes the noise of the city gets too much.”

He nods, fidgeting slightly. “I get that. For me, it’s the track. I love racing but our world can become ... suffocating sometimes.”

The vulnerability in his words surprises you. You’d always seen Charles as a fearless driver, not a man who needed an escape.

“You know,” you start, “I always thought you loved the thrill, the fame.”

He chuckles, but there’s a shadow in his eyes. “I love racing. The fame, not so much. I love the fans. I love Ferrari. But it’s overwhelming at times. Especially when the car is underperforming.”

You feel a connection in that moment, the shared weight of expectations. “Music is my escape. But sometimes, the pressure to always be on, to always perform ... it’s draining.”

He looks at you, a new understanding dawning in his eyes. “I never thought about it that way. We’re really quite similar, aren’t we?”

The conversation flows naturally after that, moving from work to personal interests. You discover shared hobbies, like a love for old movies, and differing opinions, like his disdain for pineapple on pizza which you adore.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime,” he declares, feigning outrage.

“You have no taste!” You retort, laughing.

The afternoon slips away, the two of you lost in conversation. It feels like two old friends catching up, not two professionals thrown together by fate.

As you leave the bistro, Charles hesitates. “Would you like to come to a race sometime? See the action up close?”

You smile, touched by the offer. “Only if you come to one of my performances.”

He grins, “Deal.”

In the days that follow, your rehearsals gain a new depth. The newfound friendship seeps into your music, turning the notes and lyrics into pure emotion. The song evolves, reflecting the story of two individuals finding harmony in the most unexpected place.

Rosa notices the change too. “There’s a spark,” she comments one day, after a particularly moving session. “Both in the music and between you two.”

You blush, dismissing her with a wave. “It’s just the music.”

But as the days blur into nights and rehearsals become more intense, you can’t help but wonder if there’s truth in Rosa’s words.

***

“Is it always this chaotic?” Charles whispers, leaning close so only you can hear as you both step backstage of a popular talk show. Bright lights, cameras, and a bustling crew create a vibrant atmosphere of controlled chaos.

“Welcome to my world,” you reply with a smirk, feeling the familiar adrenaline of a live performance. “A bit different from the paddock, isn’t it?”

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Just a tad.”

A producer approaches, positioning you and Charles for the interview. As you settle onto the couch, Charles’ arm grazes yours, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth up your arm.

The host, a vivacious woman named Martina, begins, “We have Monaco’s sensational Eurovision duo with us today! Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N. Tell us, how has this partnership been?”

Charles shoots you a glance. “Unexpected at first, certainly. But every moment has been an adventure. We’ve learned from each other and it is reflected in our music.”

You nod, adding, “It’s been a blend of two worlds. And the result is something neither of us anticipated but we have come to love.”

Martina’s gaze flits between both of you, sensing the underlying tension. “There’s undeniable chemistry between you two. It’s clear to me even now. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Your heart races and you see Charles shift uncomfortably. The question, though posed in jest, holds an element of truth that neither of you has addressed.

“We’re focused on our music and representing Monaco to the best of our abilities,” Charles replies smoothly but the tips of his ears redden.

Martina, sensing a scoop, presses on, “But off the stage? Any sparks?”

You force a laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re just getting to know each other. Our priority is Eurovision.”

Once off the set, Charles runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of dealing with stress. “That was intense.”

“It’s just the beginning. The closer we get to Eurovision, the more questions like that we’ll get.”

He stops, turning to face you, his eyes intense. “What if there is some truth to their questions?”

The air grows thick, the world narrowing to just the two of you. “Charles ...”

He takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “I can’t ignore it anymore. Every time we’re together, there is this pull.”

Your breath catches, the confession echoing your own feelings. “I feel it too. But right now, everything is so complicated.”

He nods, looking defeated. “I know. Let’s just ... focus on the music for now.”

***

“Are these feathers?” Charles asks, a touch of panic evident as he examines the ornate costume handed to him.

“Welcome to Eurovision,” you say with a wry smile, adjusting the shimmering fabric of your own dress which seems to be a riot of sequins and colors, reflecting the vibrant spirit of the competition.

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “This is a bit different from my usual race suit.”

You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Just wait till you see the pyrotechnics.”

The two of you stand backstage as acts from different countries, each more extravagant than the last, parade before you. The dazzling array of costumes, the eccentric set designs, and the sheer scale of the event are overwhelming.

Charles, sensing your nervousness, takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. The tension between the two of you has only grown, making moments like these all the more intense.

Suddenly, a voice announces, “Next up, representing Monaco, please welcome Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N!”

Your heart rate spikes. Charles leads you to the stage, the grand piano at its center surrounded by a sea of lights creating an ethereal atmosphere.

He starts playing, the haunting melody echoing in the cavernous venue. As you join in with your vocals, the world seems to fade away. It’s just the two of you, lost in the music.

The song builds to its climax. You move closer to Charles, the emotional depth of the lyrics pulling you in. The final note lingers and you find yourself drawn to him, your faces mere inches apart.

The audience, sensing the electricity between the two of you, erupts in a frenzy of cheers, pulling you back to reality. You share a charged glance with Charles, the applause deafening.

The performance, though only a few minutes, feels like a lifetime. As you walk off stage, Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “We did it.”

You bury your face in his chest, the heady mix of adrenaline and emotions making everything feel surreal. “We really did.”

***

“And the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest 2024 is ...” The host’s voice draws out, adding to the tension in the room, “Monaco!”

The words hit you like a tidal wave. The arena explodes in applause and cheers, bright lights flashing everywhere. Confetti starts to fall and the air is pure magic.

Charles, equally stunned, turns to you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this real?” He breathes, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Overwhelmed, you cling to him, the weight of your accomplishment settling in. You won Eurovision.

Breaking the hug, Charles lifts you in sheer joy, spinning you around, the world blurring past. Both of you are laughing, tears of joy mingling with the glitter on your face.

As the celebrations continue, you spot the Italian competitors cheering raucously. Somehow, they’ve managed to pull out a Ferrari flag, waving it as proudly as if they had won.

Charles notices too, laughing. “They really do love their racing.”

You smirk, nudging him playfully. “Or maybe they just love their racer.”

The moment is interrupted as you’re whisked away for the winner’s interview and your encore. But the mania doesn’t stop the two of you from sharing stolen glances and smiles.

Later that night, as the euphoria begins to die down, Charles finds you on a balcony overlooking the city. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” He murmurs, joining you by the railing.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Winning was the dream. I didn’t think about what would come after.”

He chuckles, “You and me both.”

The night stretches before you, the city lights twinkling like stars. You lean into Charles, drawing comfort from his presence. “What now?”

He takes a moment to think. “Now, we take on the world together.”

***

“I wrote something last night,” Charles says hesitantly. The two of you sit in his apartment, the aftermath of your Eurovision win still a fresh memory.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “For the piano?”

He nods. “But it’s more personal than anything else I’ve composed. I was thinking ... maybe you could add lyrics to it?”

Curious, you watch as he moves to the piano he has against the wall, his fingers delicately dancing on the keys. The melody is raw, filled with emotion. It speaks of longing, of new beginnings, of unspoken feelings.

It’s beautiful.

“That’s incredible,” you breathe once he finishes.

He looks up, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “It's how I feel. About all of this. About you.”

The confession hangs in the air, a delicate thread connecting the two of you.

“I’ve been feeling the same,” you admit, your heart racing. “I wrote some lyrics too. But I didn’t have the melody for them. Maybe ...”

You share the words you penned down, the emotions you felt towards Charles clear as day. Together, the two of you create a song, a musical odyssey of the path you’ve walked together and the deepening connection between you.

Hours pass, the world outside forgotten. The song takes shape, evolving with every note and word.

Charles breaks the silence, his voice soft, “This is special.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. “It is.”

He moves closer, the space between you disappearing. “Every moment with you is.”

Your heart flutters, the intensity of his gaze making you breathless. “Charles ...”

But he silences you with a gentle touch, his fingers brushing your cheek. The world seems to stand still as he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s a new beginning, a promise of what’s to come.

***

“I’m so nervous,” you confess, wringing your hands. The roar of the crowd outside, waiting for the Monaco Grand Prix to begin, is deafening.

Charles pulls you into a comforting hug. “It’s just singing the national anthem. You’ve performed on much bigger stages.”

“But not in front of the entire racing community and Monegasque royalty,” you counter. The idea of serenading the beginning of Monaco’s most prestigious race, especially with Charles being one of the contenders, fills you with anxiety.

He smirks. “You’re worrying about a three-minute song when I have to race for nearly two hours?”

You punch his arm playfully, “Oh, hush. You love it too much to complain.”

His expression turns serious and he takes your hands in his. “It’s just like any other performance but this time, for our people. Focus on that.”

His words sink in. You’re not just singing for the crowd. You’re singing for Monaco. For Charles.

As you step out, the sun glints off the polished cars lined up for the race. The noise is deafening but one look at Charles, his eyes filled with pride, grounds you.

Drawing a deep breath, you begin. Your voice, clear and strong, rises above the commotion, capturing the spirit of Monaco. The crowd falls silent, lost in the beauty of the moment.

When you finish, the applause is thunderous. Charles rushes over, lifting you off the ground in a bear hug. “That was incredible,” he whispers in your ear.

You laugh, the tension from before dissipating. “Now go win the race.”

He winks. “Only if you promise to sing for me every time.”

***

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tweeted that day?” Charles muses, lying next to you on a grassy hill overlooking the city. The stars twinkle above, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

You chuckle softly, turning to face him. “I would probably be preparing for another solo concert but not much would change for you. You’d still be busy reveling in your racing glory.”

He grins, playfully nudging you. “So you admit I brought excitement to your life?”

You roll your eyes. “Excitement, chaos, media frenzy ... take your pick.”

Silence settles between you two, comfortable yet filled with words unspoken. The city lights below seem distant, the world reduced to just this moment.

Charles breaks the silence. “I can’t imagine my life without you now.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “Neither can I. It’s been a wild ride.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “A ride I would relive in a heartbeat.”

“Charles,” you begin, gathering your thoughts, “we’ve been through so much together and I cherish every moment. But we also need to think about our future. The media attention, the expectations ... it’s a lot.”

He nods, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know. But we'll face it together. Like we have from the start.”

The promise in his voice fills you with warmth. “Together,” you echo, sealing the commitment.

***

“You’re not serious,” Silvia’s voice cuts through the room. “It’s the biggest sponsorship event of the season. For Ferrari! You can’t miss it.”

Charles looks torn, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Y/N’s first major solo concert. She’s been there for me, every step of the way. I need to be there for her.”

You feel a pang of guilt. “Charles, I understand the importance. If you can’t make it—”

He interrupts, looking you straight in the eyes. “This isn’t just about the concert. It’s about us. About our priorities.”

The room is thick with tension. On your side, Rosa, always the mediator, attempts to defuse the situation. “There must be a way to do both.”

Charles shakes his head resolutely. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Silvia looks at him, her eyes pleading. “You know the implications of this, right?”

He nods, swallowing hard. “I do. However mad the sponsor may be will be worth it.”

Later, the two of you find a quiet corner.

“You didn’t have to,” you whisper.

He pulls you close, his touch reassuring. “But I wanted to. More than anything.”

You look up, eyes glassy. “Why?”

“Because,” he starts, searching for the right words, “these races, these events ... they will always be there. But moments like your concert, they are once in a lifetime. And I don’t want to miss a single second of our journey together.”

The emotion of his words takes your breath away. “Charles ...”

He places a finger on your lips, silencing you. “I love you.”

The words hang in the air. Voice choked with emotion, you reply. “I love you too.”

***

“Do you ever think how surreal all of this is?” Charles murmurs, both of you backstage at the 2025 Eurovision finals, invited back as guest performers. The arena pulsates with excitement, the memories of your victorious performance still fresh in many minds.

You laugh, adjusting your dress. “Every single day. Especially today, coming full circle.”

He takes your hand, the spark between you as electric as ever. “It feels like just yesterday we were thrown into this wild ride.”

A stagehand signals that it’s almost time. The two of you take your positions, the familiar chords of your winning song filling the air. The audience roars in approval, their cheers echoing the joy of that fateful night.

As the final note lingers, you turn to Charles, preparing for the bows. But he isn’t sitting behind the piano. Instead, he’s down on one knee, a small velvet box in hand.

The realization hits you like a tidal wave, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Charles speaks loud enough for the world to hear, “From the moment we met, I knew my life had changed forever. I can’t imagine a day without you by my side. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears stream down your face, every emotion amplified. “Yes. I want that more than anything,” you manage to whisper.

He slips the ring onto your finger and the world fades away as his lips find yours. You see the Italian delegation cheering wildly out of the corner of your eye and can’t help but laugh. The hosts may have changed. The competitors may have changed. But the love of Italians for il Predestinato will always live on. They’ll have to get in line, though. You just officially claimed the title of his biggest fan.

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