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hannie-dul-set · 4 months

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karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. when you’re nearly run over by a car, and said car happens to be a porsche 918 spyder, your broke ass knows better than to let this one in a million miracle slip by.

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. emotionally-stunted idiots to lovers, implied college! au, rich boy x not-so-rich girl trope but neither of them are normal! they’re both not well adjusted! mc is an actual scammer and ricky’s love language is throwing out exorbitant amounts of cash, romance, humor, angst if you squint but i prefer it when things are stupid, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearing, probably a number of illegal things, dubious medical practices, scamming, gold-digging, mild manipulation, a not very healthy dynamic at first but we’ll get there, more tba. WORD COUNT. teaser: 915 | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. within january, maybe. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. hello riyangi nation i have another insanity-driven wip to offer. hopefully i go crazy again and write 4-5k a day like my last ricky longfic HAHAHHAHAH. this one has a bit more plot, a bit more seriousness, but still on the spectrum of unhinged!!! hope u enjoy.

preview under the cut.

IT’S A DOG EAT DOG WORLD OUT THERE. You’ve learned this lesson time and time again, ever since the early age of six— when your father got kicked out from his own start-up thanks to his greedy cousins, when you got in trouble for punching a classmate in first grade because he lifted up your skirt but the fucker was the grandson of your primary school’s dead, and when your high school scholarship got screwed over because “your parents unfortunately don’t support the school enough,” and you flipped off your home teacher all while calling him an ass-kissing, money-grabbing piece of shit.

Well, you were forced to transfer after that.

At least your new school didn’t base their scholarship grants on fucking PTA donations instead of grades.

From then on, you’ve learned that the only way to survive is to screw people over before getting screwed over yourself. There’s no point being nice. You can’t bother being a doormat to people who don’t even contribute a cent to your rent. You’re not wasting your smiles for people you can’t use.

Maybe it’s how you’ve grown to be so opportunistic, because the moment you and a friend were told that only one of you could get a full ride to Yonsei University— you didn’t think twice to cut him off. You stopped sharing your notes. You stopped studying together because why should you be nice to your competition? He was more well off than you anyway. His future doesn’t rely on handouts like it yours does.

Bottomline, yes, you’re not the nicest person in the world. Sure, you screwed over some strangers opting to go to the same job interview as you by giving them the wrong directions. Maybe you cut yourself off from your parents the moment you turned legal when their debt started getting to them and they started relying on you to get out of the pitfall instead of pulling their own fucking weigh. Yes, you’re not a good person. You’re fully aware of that.

Which is why you can’t exactly say fuck you to god when karma comes to bite you in the ass via a car accident on your way to your weekend work shift.

The dead and quiet road you usually cross is now filled with noises of panic.

“Oh my god— dude! Call an ambulance!”

Your lungs hit asphalt and your head starts ringing. A pained hiss slips through gritted teeth. Something’s broken, you grunt, or at the very least not how it should be based on the sharp pain you’re feeling on the arm wedged between your body and the rough and dusty road. “Are they dead?!” you hear someone yell, followed by a car door swinging and footsteps running closer, yet your eyes remain squeezed shut from the blinding headlights and the aching of your entire body.

But it’s not the pain you’re dwelling on. No. It’s the hospital bills and the inevitable days off you’d have to take thanks to your god forsaken fucking luck.

The car should’ve just killed you on the spot.

“Are you okay?!”

However when you finally open your eyes and recognize the embodiment of your karma body slamming you into the ground in the form of a freaking Porsche, your worries suddenly get washed away into oblivion.

Holy shit, you’re fully conscious now. You’ve just hit the jackpot.

“O—oh, she’s awake, she’s awake! Gyuvin—”

Whoa.

There’s a person hovering above you. Rather, the person’s gold gilded necklace is dangling in front of your face. This is more than a jackpot. This is better that the fucking lottery.

“What—what do I do?”

“Is she responsive?!”

“U—uhm— are you okay?” Pretty boy that you assume is the one who nearly killed you is flitting his eyes in panic and is unsure with what to do with his hands. His face aside, the guy is decked out in designer clothing. You don’t miss the engravings on his jacket, the shiny glints of gold coiled around his panicked fingers. You’re not letting his chance slip away. You let out a grunt of pain and start folding into yourself. “Ahh, I don’t think she’s okay! What’s the number for 119?!”

Half acting. Half actually fucking hurting because ow. Maybe you did break something.

“I don’t know! Taerae, what’s the number for—”

“Are you two stupid?!”

Well shit. The pain stops paining because if they bring you to a hospital different from the one you have in mind, it’d be a loss for you. So you play it up even more. “A—ah, I think something’s broken,” you wince. Pretty boy drops his phone and tries helping you prop yourself up.

“Crap. I think it’ll take too long if we call an ambulance,” says one of his companions behind him. “H—hey, do you mind if we just take you to the hospital right now?”

Now, this doesn’t sound safe. Around three men in their early twenties with very evidently no first aid experience delivering an injured woman to the hospital with what you think is a two-seater car is a recipe for disaster. You’re still on the dirty ground, arm definitely broken, with a rich guy looking like he’s about to start crying at any moment very hesitantly trying his best to help you sit up.

They’re waiting for your answer. And the answer is pretty obvious.

“Yes, please. Thank you!”

Because if you get even more injured along the way, that’ll simply be an extra bonus for you.

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#shen ricky x reader #ricky x reader #zb1 ricky x reader #zerobaseone x reader #shen ricky x you #zb1 ricky x you #zb1 x you #zerobaseone x you #zerobaseone fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zb1 ricky imagines

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spyderschaos · 2 months

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Haven’t even finished the other one and I already got a new wip

#drawing my friend’s spidersonas bc bc bc #art #spyder’s chaos #spyder and friends #spidersona #wip #gold silk

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venus-haze · 8 months

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Rip This Place Apart (Driller Killer x Reader)

Summary: He’s gonna rock your world, baby!

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request. I wrote this while I was dealing with a bout of insomnia, ironically. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Descriptions of blood and gore. Sexually explicit content. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

A man kept appearing in your dreams, and he wouldn’t go away. Leather-clad and oozing obnoxious amounts of sex appeal, he was the opposite of a problem, until your dreams started feeling a little too real. Maybe it was your subconscious’ way of telling you to get laid, but every time you had some kind of interest in a man, he clouded your mind until you either made a fool of yourself or retreated.

That night was going to be different, though. You and your friend Marcie had spotted a flyer for a funky looking local band called Shriek and the Spyders, a group of self-professed psychobilly hooligans who were known for their wild shows and over-the-top onstage antics. A bartender who’d overheard you and Marcie discussing the show the day before advised, “Wear something you won’t mind getting stained.” Your interest piqued, and you figured a skimpy black top and similarly black skirt would do.

The Crypt was a hole-in-the-wall joint that certainly lived up to its name. You could hardly see inside, save for a few red overhead lights, because of course they were red. The light fog that swathed the room was either from an effects machine or so many people chain smoking. When you approached the bar, you scanned the cocktail menu, all named after and inspired by classic monsters. You ordered a Frankenstein-themed drink, wondering if it were possible for a place to be too campy.

“C’mon, let’s try to get closer to the stage before they go on,” Marcie said once you both got your drinks.

About fifteen minutes later, the band strutted onstage, an abundance of leather and pompadours. Almost like—no, you weren’t supposed to be thinking about him. Not bothering with introductions, Shriek and the Spyders went right into an upbeat song that made the raucous crowd go wild. They didn’t let up, sweat dripping down Shriek’s face as he ran back and forth across the stage, microphone in hand.

In the middle of their third song, a spray of fake blood rained over the crowd, leading to cheers and screams nearly drowning out the music. Some of the effects looked a little too realistic for your comfort. The bass player’s “eye” popped out at one point, and the lead guitarist’s face seemed to literally melt during a solo a few songs later.

You and Marcie had been dancing along to the whole set, your drinks long since discarded, half spilled on each other as other concert-goers bumped into you. It was the most fun you’d had in a long time, but you couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that settled in your gut no matter how much you tried to focus on the show.

In the middle of another song, Shriek broke into a howl as a giant drill emerged through his chest, spraying the crowd with blood again. Except, this time you weren’t so sure it was fake. No one else seemed to care. The carnage only electrified the people around you as they roared and cheered when Shriek collapsed near the microphone stand, his guts hanging off the stage. The floor beneath you shook at the crowd’s riotous stomping and jumping at the scene they’d just witnessed. When you looked up at the stage, you were horrified to see him. Gore hung from the end of his drill-tipped guitar, splattering the crowd as he revved it, keeping eye contact with you and grinning slyly at your disbelief.

He leaned into the mic, the corners of his lips curling into a cat-like grin as he announced with a swoon-worthy croon, “This is dedicated to the one I love.”

Then he pointed right at you.

The energy in the room shifted to a tangible malignancy, or maybe it was your own panic as you tried to push and shove your way out of the crowd. Instead, you only found yourself being forced closer to the stage, his romance-laced innuendos and skillful guitar strumming overwhelmed your senses and made your skin crawl. It felt like the whole crowd was in on his scheme to get you.

With each song you were shoved closer, and closer, until for the first time since he manifested in your dreams, you were able to reach out and touch him.

Was he even real?

You were dizzy by the time the show ended, hardly able to protest when you were manhandled and told something about wanting to be seen backstage.

“I want details!” Marcie shouted, oblivious to your plight as the rent-a-cop shuffled you away from her.

Backstage was a stretch. More like a narrow hallway with a utility closet and a small, graffiti-covered room that had been requisitioned by the bands. The door to the makeshift dressing room slammed behind you when you stumbled inside. He was waiting there for you, sitting on a grungy looking red velvet couch, his leather-clad legs spread wide open. His jacket was discarded in the corner of the room, revealing the sheen of sweat and blood that coated his body.

Your eyes drifted to his drill, large and intimidating, with a red tip that looked angry against its large shaft. You could’ve sworn you saw it twitch a bit, and recoiled at the thought of it penetrating you.

With a click of his tongue, he drew your attention back to him. Raising his hand, he beckoned you over to him with a curl of his index and middle fingers. You felt a jolt rush through your core at the motion. Almost involuntarily, you approached until the points of your kitten heels touched the tips of his steel-toed boots.

“How’d you like the show, baby?” he asked.

“It was…a lot.”

“It was all for you.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, blatantly ogling the bulge straining against his tight pants.

He grinned, thrusting up toward your face. “Could use a little help, sugar,” he crooned, eyes dangerous as he palmed his crotch. “Don’t be cruel to a heart that’s true.”

You let out a shaky breath in response, and proceeded to sit on his lap. He threw his head back, groaning at the sensation of your weight on him. Tangling your fingers in his slicked black hair, you pressed yourself closer to him, kissing his neck as you rolled your hips against his. You nipped at his throat when you felt his cock twitch against your pussy.

“Goddamn, baby,” he moaned. “Gimme more of that.”

Rolling your hips again, you let out a soft whimper at the friction from his pants on your clit. It was as if a switch flipped inside you, desperation flooding your senses as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him, almost embarrassed at the sounds your wet pussy was making as it rubbed against his hard cock.

Your breathing shallowed, muscles ached as you rutted against him, feeling yourself getting closer to orgasm. For a moment, it felt like he was only there for you to use, to get off with like some living, leather-wrapped sex toy. Maybe he was. You weren’t thinking clearly enough to question it.

“Wanna go all the way with you, baby,” he forced out. “Wanna make you mine.”

You moaned at that. “Yours.”

You swiftly shifted so you could pull off your panties, tossing them aside on the couch. He undid his pants, his leaking cock springing free from its leather confines. Your pussy involuntarily clenched at the size of him, and your eyes frantically met his smug face.

He reached between you, his fingers stroking your sensitive pussy. “Cat got your tongue?”

You kissed him again, more teeth and tongue than before as you lifted your hips, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock and whimpering into his mouth at how it stretched you mercilessly. You caught his bottom lip in your teeth, biting down a little too hard and drawing blood, but he took it in stride, licking it from his lips.

He sung your praises, his hands firmly on your hips as he guided you, your pussy taking all of him. His five o’clock shadow scratched at your sensitive skin as he pressed kisses to your neck and shoulders.

“Fuck!” you cried out as you bounced on his dick, your cervix pounded by his length. Your vision blurred with tears, thighs burning as you kept riding him. So close. “I—I’m gonna—“

“That’s it, sugar. Come for me.”

Your orgasm rolled through you, rocking your hips against his as you held onto his shoulders to steady yourself. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, and you could feel his hot cum fill you as your body milked his seed from him. He was vocal when he came, your name practically echoing throughout the room in a perverse melody.

Riding out your orgasm, you shuddered against him, feeling his soft, spent cock still buried inside you.

“That was…are you real?” you asked breathlessly.

“In dreams you’re mine, all the time,” he answered cryptically, kissing you with a disarming tenderness.

#driller killer x reader #slasher x reader #slumber party massacre 2 #slumber party massacre #spm2 #slasher fandom #slasher community

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quadrant-horror-stories · 2 months

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[QUIRK MASKING]: I need to learn the customs for getting human married immediately I love my matesprit so much and I want to make him happy and I will teach myself every social custom for xir if it kills me

#submission #spyder #i do not know what married is friend #but i wish you luck with this quest #cataclysm anon

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spydertrans · 1 year

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every day, i wake up and see some bullshit in The Mad Dogz Fan Club server

(@violent-kurumi @hellowyn-llewellyn)

#tmdfc #friends #spyder on the web 🕷

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hey-kae · 2 years

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Off-track

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!female reader

Request: Heeey! I love the way you write and i have a little request. Idk I just thought about it :)). Charles and reader they meet at a traffic light or in traffic, and they just agree to race a little when the light turns green. Thank you💖

Warning: a lot of cursing.

a/n: so i made the reader into a driver because i couldn’t think of any other context tbh. I’m sorry if that is annoying to anyone😅 Please be responsible drivers and don’t do dangerous things such as street racing irl!!

The rage inside you after you had crossed the finish line could enable you to tear down a full, mighty building with your plain, bare hands.

P2 couldn't have meant any less, not when the win was snatched right out of your grasp just two laps before the end of the race.

Charles fucking Leclerc.

You could've literally killed him as you got out of the cockpit in parc-fermé but you desperately wanted to do it when you watched the red Ferrari fly past your car on track.

"Irrational reactions cost too much." Your team principal had warned you when he saw how furious you were and how you were glaring at Charles' back in the cooldown room.

Admitting it felt like a defeat, but he was right. So you sucked it up, got on the podium, drank some champagne and faked some smiles then left without any further words to anyone.

Like a lot of F1 drivers, you chose to live in Monaco. You were oblivious to why each different driver chose to live there but you did purely because you loved its atmosphere. It felt like the holy grail of Formula 1 and sport cars and you were more than there for it. You loved it.

Therefore, flying home was always something you looked forward to, what explained the slightly better mood you were on when you boarded the plane after the race, your trophy in hand. You just went home and slept the exhaustion off, only waking up in the evening when your friend called you repeatedly, practically begging you to show up at a party just a few minutes away.

Having turned down way too many invites in the last few weeks, you agreed and got dressed in a black dress but ditched the heels for something comfier.

It was a few minutes before you were out the door and in your car, your pride and joy.

Deciding that you weren't in the mood for trafic and just wanted to speed down the road, you took a backroad. Sure, it wasn't deserted but it had way fewer cars than the main road. You smiled and let down the car windows, allowing the wind to breeze in as your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, the smooth sound of the engine being enough to calm you down after so much anger.

You were so relaxed as you took your time driving to your friends until you reached a red light. You stopped the car and looked out of your window towards the beautiful scenery of the night sky blending in with the dark sea, both of them littered with small sparkles, stars and boats. It was breathtaking until your view got obstructed by a car pulling up beside you. A fucking Ferrari Pista 488 Spyder. That matte black one everyone in the whole country of Monaco knew.

"You're fucking shitting me right now." You cussed under your breath, both your hands now fisting your steering wheel as you averted your attention to the street in front of you, trying to ignore the asshole who stole your win just a few hours ago.

Sure, the two of you were friendly but he was your rival and it was past half the season and the points were too close for comfort so the tension between you two was through the roof.

Charles noticed you right away. After all, your car was just as famous as his among people. For some reason, when he saw you mutter and turn away from him, he decided he wanted your attention. Smirking, he started loudly revving up the car while keeping it in its spot next to yours. He kept doing that, his engine sounding louder by the second until you felt yourself going insane.

"What?" You snapped you head in his direction and shouted at him.

It made your blood boil when he stopped his act and laughed.

"Race me. Get your revenge, babe."

"Fuck off, Leclerc." You looked away.

"What? You're obviously still mad i overtook you, so race me."

"You want me to race you? Fine."

You didn't even wait to see his reaction, you just stepped hard on the gas and the car shot down the street, taking Charles by surprise.

In your rear view mirror, you could see him hot on your tail, actually trying to catch up to you and somehow, despite you starting before him, he was close to passing you.

It was barely any time before he shot past you, honking at you as he did so. It enraged you.

In a matter of seconds, traction control was off and the car was switched on race mode. You foot was pushing the gas pedal down to the floor, your face twisted with anger. You were determined to overtake him.

"Over my fucking dead body, Leclerc." You said to yourself as you watched his car become closer as you accelerated, eventually becoming parallel to yours and he was fucking smiling.

It made you push the car to its limits and soon enough, you flew past him, quickly putting a decent distance between the two of you.

That's when it sunk in, what madness you were engaging in. Your manager would be furious and you wouldn't hear the end of it if everyone found out about this.

"Shit, what am i doing?" you kept repeating as you pulled up on the side of the road, taking in how unprofessional and unsafe that was.

Charles' cars pulled up behind yours and he got out quickly.

"I was joking but you won, i guess. Hope that did it for you but what the fuck has gotten into you? I thought we were good." He bent down and leaned on your window.

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright. I hope you remind yourself that it's racing and i will do anything to win just like you would."

"You fucking pushed me off track, Leclerc so don't hit me with that racing bullshit." You opened your door and got out, pushing him away in the process.

"It's not my fucking fault that you have no regard to track limits!"

"Oh, please. You knew exactly what you were doing!"

"Alright, whatever. Enjoy your night, princess." He waved you off and walked away.

This wasn't good. The PR team would hate you if they found out you initiated an off-track rivalry with Charles so you sighed and called for him.

"Charles..."

He heard you. You knew he heard you but ignored you.

"Charles... I'm sorry."

Yeah, that did the trick. He stopped walking and quickly turned to look at you at the sound of those words.

"You're what?"

"I'm sorry. Our teams will hate us if we start a fight."

"Oh, that's why you're sorry. Our teams. Okay, yeah. We're good. Bye." He curtly nodded and continued his way to open his car door.

You stormed toward him.

"Why else would i be sorry, Charles?"

"I don't know... Maybe human decency, or wanting to keeping whatever friendship we have." He shrugged and tossed his phone onto the driver's seat of his car, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're my rival."

"So?"

"So it's basically impossible to be friends!"

"Okay, i'll talk to you in a few months then." He got into his car and drove off.

Your stared at the back of his car until it disappeared out of sight, questioning what the hell he wanted. He left you dumbfounded because you never thought he'd want to be friends with you but you were even more weirded out that you were now looking forward for the season to end. Frowning, you shook that idea out of your mind, not believing you even thought of things that way, got back into your car and drove off to the party, your thoughts still about the monégasque.

Guess you'll have to wait a few months to see what he wanted.

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 oneshots #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc blurb #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fics

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skylarstark4826 · 6 months

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Tonowari and Ronal with their children (Aonung, Tsireya, Rotxo and their youngest unborn son)

These are Edit's that a friend of mine helped me do so I decided to upload them here on Tumblr.

Tonowari and Ronal with their children:

Aonung Tonowari'itan: the eldest son of Tonowari and Ronal as well as Tsireya's older brother and Rotxo's adoptive older brother.

Tsireya Ronal'itan: the youngest daughter of Tonowari and Ronal as well as the younger sister of Aonung and the adoptive older sister (only a few weeks older) of Rotxo.

Rotxo Tonowari'itan (Rotxo Ko'nal'itan): the youngest adopted son of Tonowari and Ronal as well as the adoptive younger brother of Aonung and Tsireya (although only a few weeks younger than his older sister).

My friend helped me make this edit of the Family of Tonowari and Ronal (including Rotxo) with Aonung and Tsireya. I hope you like it.

Jake and Neytiri with their children (Spider, Neteyam, Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk)

And my friend also gave me a hand to do Jake and Neytiri's Edit with their children (including Spider). I really hope you like it too.

Tonowari and Ronal with their children:

(Miles Javier "Spider" Socorro (Spyder te Suli Tsyeyk’itan) (Spyder te Sokoro Myils'ita): he is the adopted eldest son of Jake and Neytiri as well as Neteyam's adoptive older brother, Kiri (although he is also her older half-brother), Lo'ak and Tuk

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan: he is the biological eldest son of Jake and Neytiri, as well as the biological older brother of Lo'ak and Tuk as well as being Kiri's adoptive older brother (although he is only a few months older than Kiri) and Spider's younger brother.

Kiri te Suli Kìreysì'ite: she is the adoptive eldest daughter of Jake and Neytiri as well as she is the adoptive younger sister of Spider (despite the fact that she is also his younger half-sister) and Neteyam and is also the adoptive older sister of Lo'ak (despite the fact that she is only a few weeks older than him) and Tuk.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan: he is the youngest biological son of Jake and Neytiri, he is the biological younger brother of Neteyam and the biological older brother of Tuk as well as the adoptive younger brother of Spider and Kiri.

Tuktirey te Suli Neytiri'ite: she is the youngest (and only) biological daughter of Jake and Neytiri, as well as the biological younger sister of Neteyam and Lo'ak as well as the adoptive younger sister of Spider and Kiri.

POST: I would have given them the link but my friend made me promise that I wouldn't do it and I don't want to betray her trust so they know but I can tell them that she is very happy about this.

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chaos-circus · 3 months

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Okay so Spy School Wild West AU

Thoughts? 👁️👁️

I think that Ben would definitely have a special connection with the horses. He'd be a stable boy or something like that, working on his parents' ranch. And, since we're talking Wild West, Alexander has to be the sherif that everyone in town looks up to with a seemingly endless list of amazing feats (all of which are lies, of course). Erica's a sherif in-training, of course. The Hale family has been watching over the town for generations, and it's a legacy that Erica is determined to uphold. And I guess everyone else would just live in town (since I assume that "sherif school" wouldn't be a thing in this AU). Murray is a criminal on the run, going from town to town, leaving before anyone can recognize him. That is until, one night, he hides out in a stable. The next day, he meets Ben, they become friends, and Murray sticks around for much longer than he intended. SPYDER probably wouldn't be called SPYDER, but they would be a gang of bandits. Maybe they would offer Murray money, maybe even a new identity. Whatever it is, it's too much for Murray to refuse. He disappears during the night and, when the town wakes up, something important is missing from the town hall. Murray's the prime suspect and the town seems to have caught on to his criminal status, and they know he's been with Ben. So, the sherif goes to Ben and offers him a job. All he has to do is track down Murray. Or something like that.

#spy school #erica hale #spy school book tag #alexander hale #ben ripley #spy school au #also instead of being a former gymnast Ashley would definitely be a circus performer #(it would justify her colorful attire)

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impulsetheories · 1 month

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hey y'all! this is peyton [sh/th, 21+, cst—also the mun of selena, dylan, mouse & dabin] and i'm stoked to be here with an older idol-verse character of mine, lee hyeon. he's just some dude who decided he wanted to be a rapper one day and never looked back. you can view his stats here, his pinterest here & read all about him under the cut.

born november 18, 2002, lee hyeon is the only son to a catholic priest & a schoolteacher :~) talk about a set-up for failure…

the earliest chunk of his life is fine—obviously his parents are more than willing to take care of a baby, but the older he gets (and the busier THEY get), hyeon’s pretty much left to his own devices. as a toddler, his parents take turns pushing juice boxes into his hands and making sure he’s occupied by the tv; by the time he’s ~12ish, it’s a “here’s ₩10,000 to get some food after school, we’ll be home late so don’t wait up” type of deal probably 4/5 nights a week.

he doesn’t care, really; or at least he doesn’t feel like he does @ the time. he has some friends that he’s really close to, so he fills up his time with those friends rather than worrying about his parents—until he can’t anymore. by the time he’s turning into an angsty teenager, he thinks a lot about his family situation & how his dad is out there “serving the community” but failing to serve his family and how his mom wouldn’t know his favorite movie if asked, like… these things chip away at a person!!!

it doesn’t help that his parents kind of have a “business” r/s; not really in love like they were once upon a time, just staying together because it’s easy (and it would be shameful for a priest to divorce—plus, in the catholic church, he wouldn’t be allowed to remarry so long as he stayed a priest) but anyways… hyeon didn’t have a good example of filial OR romantic love in his early life, which resulted in him being emotionally unavailable and having zero respect for his parents 🤙 oh yeah!

his life is like this: church services on sunday / pretty much no interaction with his parents any other day of the week unless it’s thru sticky-note messages around the house / go to school half the time, skip the other half / waste time with his four best friends / play league of legends all night / daydream of being a rapper like… obviously a very fulfilling life

anyway i’m really not trying to make y’all learn every minute detail of hyeon’s life story here so i’ll say tl;dr he got really into rap/making beats around 13/14ish, started a yt channel w his friends at 15, had a joke song go viral on yt that same year which kind of made him realize how starved for attention he was/how much he really WANTED to rap??!? / applied and got onto season 3 of high school rapper at 16, placed 3rd, signed with canvas labs the next year and consequently dropped out of high school to focus on music/training and ultimately severed his ties with his parents like… he obviously didn’t have time for church anymore/the desire to go and him turning his back on the catholic church AND dropping out of school??!? spitting on everything his parents stand for fr fr

worked part-time as a mechanic’s assistant while he was training, up until newave started prepping for debut—in this time, he got really into cars, got his driver’s license & then got into racing; super into racing go-karts!!! he still does some side work for his former boss from time to time for pocket cash: uses this money to support his love for designer clothes mostly or buy shit for his own car, which is a 2008 mitsubishi eclipse spyder that his former boss gifted to him (was a piece of shit at the time, required extensive work and is still a pain in the ass unfortunately)

as of march 2024, is a (somewhat) newly debuted idol—does not take it particularly seriously, and it’s not his career end-goal. ultimately he wants to produce a bunch of music for the group (and potentially for other groups), get rich off royalties, drop the group and return to the “real” rap/music scene… u know how it goes… selfish selfish man!

all in all hyeon is literally just some guy with a chip on his shoulder. he views other people as disposable, so he doesn’t care to get particularly close to anyone—but even if he does, he’s a pro when it comes to burning bridges & never looking back. if you have nothing to offer, hyeon has no interest; and if he has no interest, he won’t fake it. a lot of this is just a result of him having to be independent from a young age & (ideally) something he will grow out of in time :~) very hot and cold type of dude: might be nice to you, might not, and it’s always up in the air as to what side of him you’ll get 🤷‍♂️ but even at his nicest, he’s pretty rough around the edges—tough love is his speciality!!! will do anything for a laugh (or just for attention lbr), bitches & complains constantly but will still do what’s asked/expected of him, shows that he cares in quiet ways like carrying your bags/luggage or ordering a large fry for u instead of the regular like… he will not be caught dead doing any sappy/sentimental shit but if you mean anything to him he’ll never forget a thing u say…. he’s a villain fr but maybe he can still be redeemed.

other trivia: was a smoker for about 6 years, recently switched to vaping but is trying to quit completely because It’s Unbecoming Of An Idol (re: management caught him a few too many times) / was active in the underground rap scene for a little bit before he joined canvas labs, was never well-known ‘cause u know… he was like 17… but he went by the name sweendakk and still has a soundcloud profile under that name / as a celebrity, has a very loud, goofy, rambunctious & mischievous persona—all of his shit-talking and impulsivity is sanded down into something endearing (or at least halfway palatable) for the sake of selling an image; kind of whiplash when you meet him irl and he’s really just a jackass / king of pacing. catch him furiously walking back and forth at your local grocery store / used to be really into weight-training, currently is on more of a cardio kick—regardless, he’s a healthy guy & much stronger than he looks / catholic guilt but i’m sure you saw that coming / dishonest, will tell you a blatant lie straight to your face KNOWING that you know it’s not true. a shameless man with not much to lose. aiming to change that. there we go…

plot ideas

head’s up that i love extensive plotting—this is not at all a requirement & i’m also down to just jump into a base idea and see where it goes!!! but!!! if you’re like me and you love to yap about every little detail!!! i will never tell you no!!! anyways…

naturally, one of his close friends from before he was an idol. ideally this would be someone born around '00 to '03 who was generally up to no good as a kid/teenager: hyeon was shit at showing it, but he lovvvveddd this person and still thinks fondly of them despite having cut them (and the rest of the friend group) off when he signed with canvas labs. thinking he might be reaching out to them again soon, so let's hope they haven't changed their number...

that one member of hi-fi he’s trying to rizz up ‘cause no way you’re gonna have hyeon living right beside a girl group and not expect him to cause problems… i’m open to discuss any/all details of their dynamic, but my idea for this is that he’s initially interested in her for very shallow reasons but ultimately she ends up becoming a muse for him (causing him to write songs such as this and this that he shares with her, but doesn’t actually release until much much later in his career when he ought to be leaving her name out of his mouth) and is someone he has every element of a relationship with without actually dating her—but in these early days of newave & hi-fi, there’s still an understanding within the groups that she’s “hyeon’s girl” but it never actually becomes something and in the end she cuts it off ‘cause hyeon can’t/won’t commit to her… wasting this poor girl’s time fr fr... all i'm saying is we're at the perfect time of the year for them to have a summer fling

various meet uglies because hyeon's a menace to society. your muse has the same workout schedule as hyeon & he's sick and tired of them hogging the one (1) working treadmill, your muse is also a celebrity (preferably someone with a higher profile than newave) and hyeon mistakes them for an employee at this appliance store where he was sent to buy a new microwave for the dorm, you bring your car in on the one day a month hyeon happens to be helping out at this mechanic shop and no way you've got an idol telling you your car is a piece of shit (as if you don't know that already) (is this a fever dream?), your muse is buying laxatives or lice shampoo or some other embarrassing item and hyeon's trying to rizz them up when they really just don't want to be noticed at all, alternatively hyeon's trying to rizz your muse up while HE'S buying something embarrassing and they can't take him seriously because of it, etc etc etc... if you have any ridiculous ideas PLEASSSE send them my way! i love these types of things!

i already know hyeon's putting those nda's to work... your muse is/was a fan so hyeon had a relatively easy time pulling them, talked a bunch of shit about how they couldn't reach out to him anymore/needed to delete his number but he's the obsessed one now (never meet your idols)

hyeon thought he could outdrink your muse but he's never been more wrong in his life. he wakes up with the worst hangover he's ever had and a text from an unsaved number saying some shit like "don't forget - you owe me a yacht"

anything... i'm a lover of strange & unusual plots, silly plots, intense plots, etc etc... pleassseee give me whatever u got!

#jongno:hello #ohhhh yeahhhh

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