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secretgamergirl · 5 months

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How a Computer Works - Part 1 (Components)

I am about to teach you on a real fundamental, connecting up electronic components level, how a computer actually works. Before I get into the meat of this though (you can just skip down below the fold if you don't care), here's the reasons I'm sitting doing so in this format:

Like a decade or two ago, companies Facebook pushed this whole "pivot to video" idea on the whole internet with some completely faked data, convincing everyone that everything had to be a video, and we need to start pushing back against that. Especially for stuff like complex explanations of things or instructions, it's much more efficient to just explain things clearly in text, maybe with some visual aids, so people can easily search, scan, and skip around between sections. It's also a hell of a lot easier to host things long term, and you can even print out a text based explainer and not need a computer to read it, keep it on a desk, highlight it, etc.

People are so clueless about how computers actually work that they start really thinking like it's all magical. Even programmers. Aside from how proper knowledge lets you get more out of them, this leads to people spouting off total nonsense about "teaching sand to think" or "everything is just 1s and 0s" or "this 'AI' a con artist who was trying to sell me NFTs a month ago probably really is an amazing creative thinking machine that can do everything he says!"

We used to have this cultural value going where it was expected that if you owned something and used it day to day, you'd have enough basic knowledge of how it worked that if it stopped working you could open it up, see what was wrong, and maybe fix it on your own, or maybe even put one together again from scratch, and that's obviously worth bringing back.

I'm personally working on a totally bonkers DIY project and I'd like to hype up like-minded people for when it gets farther along.

So all that said, have a standard reminder that I am completely reliant on Patreon donations to survive, keep updating this blog, and ideally start getting some PCBs and chips and a nice oscilloscope to get that mystery project off the ground.

Electricity probably doesn't work like how you were taught (and my explanation shouldn't be trusted too far either).

I remember, growing up, hearing all sorts of things about electricity having this sort of magical ability to always find the shortest possible path to where it needs to get, flowing like water, and a bunch of other things that are kind of useful for explaining how a Faraday cage or a lightning rod works, and not conflicting with how simple electronics will have a battery and then a single line of wire going through like a switch and a light bulb or whatever back to the other end of the battery.

If you had this idea drilled into your head hard enough, you might end up thinking that if we have a wire hooked to the negative end of a battery stretching off to the east, and another wire stretching off to the east from the positive end, and we bridge between the two in several places with an LED or something soldered to both ends, only the westernmost one is going to light up, because hey, the shortest path is the one that turns off as quickly as possible to connect to the other side, right? Well turns out no, all three are going to light up, because that "shortest path" thing is a total misunderstanding.

Here's how it actually works, roughly. If you took basic high school chemistry, you learned about how the periodic table is set up, right? A given atom, normally, has whatever number of protons in the core, and the same number of electrons, whipping all over around it, being attracted to those protons but repelled by each other, and there's particular counts of electrons which are super chill with that arrangement so we put those elements in the same column as each other, and then as you count up from those, you get the elements between those either have some electrons that don't fit all tight packed in the tight orbit and just kinda hang out all wide and lonely and "want to" buddy up with another atom that has more room, up to the half full column that can kinda go either way, then as we approach the next happy number they "want to" have a little more company to get right to that cozy tight packed number, and when you have "extra" electrons and "missing" electrons other atoms kinda cozy up and share so they hit those good noble gas counts.

I'm sure real experts want to scream at me for both that and this, but this is basically how electricity works. You have a big pile of something at the "positive" end that's "missing electrons" (for the above reason or maybe actually ionized so they really aren't there), and a "negative" end that's got spares. Then you make wires out of stuff from those middle of the road elements that have awkward electron counts and don't mind buddying up (and also high melting points and some other handy qualities) and you hook those in there. And the electron clouds on all the atoms in the wire get kinda pulled towards the positive side because there's more room over there, but if they full on leave their nucleus needs more electron pals, so yeah neighbors get pulled over, and the whole wire connected to the positive bit ends up with a positive charge to it, and the whole wire on the negative bit is negatively charged, and so yeah, anywhere you bridge the gap between the two, the electrons are pretty stoked about balancing out these two big awkward compromises and they'll start conga lining over to balance things out, and while they're at it they'll light up lights or shake speakers or spin motors or activate electromagnets or whatever other rad things you've worked out how to make happen with a live electric current.

Insulators, Resistors, Waves, and Capacitors

Oh and we typically surround these wires made of things that are super happy about sharing electrons around with materials that are very much "I'm good, thanks," but this isn't an all or nothing system and there's stuff you can connect between the positive and negative ends of things that still pass the current along, but only so much so fast. We use those to make resistors, and those are handy because sometimes you don't want to put all the juice you have through something because it would damage it, and having a resistor anywhere along a path you're putting current through puts a cap on that flow, and also sometimes you might want a wire connected to positive or negative with a really strong resistor so it'll have SOME sort of default charge, but if we get a free(r) flowing connection attached to that wire somewhere else that opens sometimes, screw that little trickle going one way, we're leaning everyone the other way for now.

The other thing with electricity is is that the flow here isn't a basic yes/no thing. How enthusiastically those electrons are getting pulled depends on the difference in charge at the positive and negative ends, and also if you're running super long wires then even if they conduct real good, having all that space to spread along is going to kinda slow things to a trickle, AND the whole thing is kinda going to have some inherent bounciness to it both because we're dealing with electrons whipping and spinning all over and because, since it's a property that's actually useful for a lot of things we do with electricity, the power coming out of the wall has this intentional wobbly nature because we've actually got this ridiculous spinny thing going on that's constantly flip flopping which prong of the socket is positive and which is negative and point is we get these sine waves of strength by default, and they kinda flop over if we're going really far.

Of course there's also a lot of times when you really want to not have your current flow flickering on and off all the time, but hey fortunately one of the first neat little electronic components we ever worked out are capacitors... and look, I'm going to be straight with you. I don't really get capacitors, but the basic idea is you've got two wires that go to big wide plates, and between those you have something that doesn't conduct the electricity normally, but they're so close the electromagnetic fields are like vibing, and then if you disconnect them from the flow they were almost conducting and/or they get charged to their limit, they just can't deal with being so charged up and they'll bridge their own gap and let it out. So basically you give them electricity to hold onto for a bit then pass along, and various sizes of them are super handy if you want to have a delay between throwing a switch and having things start doing their thing, or keeping stuff going after you break a connection, or you make a little branching path where one branch connects all regular and the other goes through a capacitor, and the electricity which is coming in in little pulses effectively comes out as a relatively steady stream because every time it'd cut out the capacity lets its charge go.

We don't just have switches, we have potentiometers.

OK, so... all of the above is just sort of about having a current and maybe worrying about how strong it is, but other than explaining how you can just kinda have main power rails running all over, and just hook stuff across them all willy-nilly rather than being forced to put everything in one big line, but still, all you can do with that is turn the whole thing on and off by breaking the circuit. Incidentally, switches, buttons, keys, and anything else you use to control the behavior of any electronic device really are just physically touching loose wires together or pulling them apart... well wait no, not all, this is a good bit to know.

None of this is actually pass/fail, really, there's wave amplitudes and how big a difference we have between the all. So when you have like, a volume knob, that's a potentiometer, which is a simple little thing where you've got your wire, it's going through a resistor, and then we have another wire we're scraping back and forth along the resistor, using a knob, usually, and the idea is the current only has to go through X percent of the resistor to get to the wire you're moving, which proportionately reduces the resistance. So you have like a 20 volt current, you've got a resistor that'll drop that down to 5 or so, but then you move this other wire down along and you've got this whole dynamic range and you can fine tune it to 15 or 10 or whatever coming down that wire. And what's nice about this again, what's actually coming down the wire is this wobbily wave of current, it's not really just "on" or "off, and as you add resistance, the wobble stays the same, it's just the peaks and valleys get closer to being just flat. Which is great if you're making, say, a knob to control volume, or brightness, or anything you want variable intensity in really.

Hey hey, it's a relay!

Again, a lot of the earliest stuff people did with electronics was really dependent on that analog wobbly waveform angle. Particularly for reproducing sound, and particularly the signals of a telegraph. Those had to travel down wires for absurd distances, and as previously stated, when you do that the signal is going to eventually decay to nothing. But then someone came up with this really basic idea where every so often along those super long wires, you set something up that takes the old signal and uses it to start a new one. They called them relays, because you know, it's like a relay race.

If you know how an electromagnet works (something about the field generated when you coil a bunch of copper wire around an iron core and run an electric current through it), a relay is super simple. You've got an electromagnet in the first circuit you're running, presumably right by where it's going to hit the big charged endpoint, and that magnetically pulls a tab of metal that's acting as a switch on a new circuit. As long as you've got enough juice left to activate the magnet, you slam that switch and voom you've got all the voltage you can generate on the new line.

Relays don't get used too much in other stuff, being unpopular at the time for not being all analog and wobbily (slamming that switch back and forth IS going to be a very binary on or off sorta thing), and they make this loud clacking noise that's actually just super cool to hear in devices that do use them (pinball machines are one of the main surviving use cases I believe) but could be annoying in some cases. What's also neat is that they're a logical AND gate. That is, if you have current flowing into the magnet, AND you have current flowing into the new wire up to the switch, you have it flowing out through the far side of the switch, but if either of those isn't true, nothing happens. Logic gates, to get ahead of myself a bit, are kinda the whole thing with computers, but we still need the rest of them. So for these purposes, relays re only neat if it's the most power and space efficient AND gate you have access to.

Oh and come to think of it, there's no reason we need to have that magnet closing the circuit when it's doing its thing. We could have it closed by default and yank it open by the magnet. Hey, now we're inverting whatever we're getting on the first wire! Neat!

Relay computers clack too loud! Gimme vacuum tubes!

So... let's take a look at the other main thing people used electricity for before coming up with the whole computer thing, our old friend the light bulb! Now I already touched a bit on the whole wacky alternating current thing, and I think this is actually one of the cases that eventually lead to it being adopted so widely, but the earliest light bulbs tended to just use normal direct current, where again, you've got the positive end and the negative end, and we just take a little filament of whatever we have handy that glows when you run enough of a current through it, and we put that in a big glass bulb and pump out all the air we can, because if we don't, the oxygen in there is probably going to change that from glowing a bit to straight up catching on fire and burning immediately.

But, we have a new weird little problem, because of the physics behind that glowing. Making something hot, on a molecular level, is just kinda adding energy to the system so everything jitters around more violently, and if you get something hot enough that it glows, you're getting it all twitchy enough for tinier particles to just fly the hell off it. Specifically photons, that's the light bit, but also hey, remember, electrons are just kinda free moving and whipping all over looking for their naked proton pals... and hey, inside this big glass bulb, we've got that other end of the wire with the more positive charge to it. Why bother wandering up this whole coily filament when we're in a vacuum and there's nothing to get in the way if we just leap straight over that gap? So... they do that, and they're coming in fast and on elliptical approaches and all, so a bunch of electrons overshoot and smack into the glass on the far side, and now one side of every light bulb is getting all gross and burnt from that and turning all brown and we can't have that.

So again, part of the fix is we switched to alternating current so it's at least splitting those wild jumps up to either side, but before that, someone tried to solve this by just... kinda putting a backboard in there. Stick a big metal plate on the end of another wire in the bulb connected to a positive charge, and now OK, all those maverick electrons smack into here and aren't messing up the glass, but also hey, this is a neat little thing. Those electrons are making that hop because they're all hot and bothered. If we're not heating up the plate they're jumping to, and there's no real reason we'd want to, then if we had a negative signal over on that side... nothing would happen. Electrons aren't getting all antsy and jumping back.

So now we have a diode! The name comes because we have two (di-) electrodes (-ode) we care about in the bulb (we're just kind of ignoring the negative one), and it's a one way street for our circuit. That's useful for a lot of stuff, like not having electricity flow backwards through complex systems and mess things up, converting AC to DC (when it flips, current won't flow through the diode so we lop off the bottom of the wave, and hey, we can do that thing with capacitors to release their current during those cutoffs, and if we're clever we can get a pretty steady high).

More electrodes! More electrodes!

So a bit after someone worked out this whole vacuum tube diode thing, someone went hey, what if it was a triode? So, let's stick another electrode in there, and this one just kinda curves around in the middle, just kinda making a grate or a mesh grid, between our hot always flowing filament and that catch plate we're keeping positively charged when it's doing stuff. Well this works in a neat way. If there's a negative charge on it, it's going to be pushing back on those electrons jumping over, and if there's a positive charge on it, it's going to help pull those electrons over (it's all thin, so they're going to shoot right past it, especially if there's way more of a positive charge over on the plate... and here's the super cool part- This is an analog thing. If we have a relatively big negative charge, it's going to repel everything, if it's a relatively big positive, it's going to pull a ton across, if it's right in the middle, it's like it wasn't even in there, and you can have tiny charges for all the gradients in between.

We don't need a huge charge for any of this though, because we're just helping or hindering the big jump from the high voltage stuff, and huh, weren't we doing this whole weak current controlling a strong current thing before with the relay? We were! And this is doing the same thing! Except now we're doing it all analog style, not slapping switch with a magnet, and we can make those wavy currents peak higher or lower and cool, now we can have phone lines boost over long distances too, and make volume knobs, and all that good stuff.

The relay version of this had that cool trick though where you could flip the output. Can we still flip the output? We sure can, we just need some other toys in the mix. See we keep talking about positive charges and negative charges at the ends of our circuits, but these are relative things. I mentioned way back when how you can use resistors to throttle how much of a current we've got, so you can run two wires to that grid in the triode. One connects to a negative charge and the other positive, with resistors on both those lines, and a switch that can break the connection on the positive end. If the positive is disconnected, we've got a negative charge on the grid, since it's all we've got, but if we connect it, and the resistor to the negative end really limits flow, we're positive in the section the grid's in. And over on the side with the collecting plate, we branch off with another resistor setup so the negative charge on that side is normally the only viable connection for a positive, but when we flip the grid to positive, we're jumping across the gap in the vacuum tube, and that's a big open flow so we'll just take those electrons instead of the ones that have to squeeze through a tight resistor to get there.

That explanation is probably a bit hard to follow because I'm over here trying to explain it based on how the electrons are actually getting pulled around. In the world of electronics everyone decided to just pretend the flow is going the other way because it makes stuff easier to follow. So pretend we have magical positrons that go the other way and if they have nothing better to do they go down the path where we have all the fun stuff further down the circuit lighting lights and all that even though it's a tight squeeze through a resistor, because there's a yucky double negative in the triode and that's worse, but we have the switch rigged up to make that a nice positive go signal to the resistance free promised land with a bonus booster to cut across, so we're just gonna go that way when the grid signal's connected.

Oh and you can make other sorts of logic circuits or double up on them in a single tube if you add more grids and such, which we did for a while, but not really relevant these days.

Cool history lesson but I know there's no relays or vacuum tubes in my computer.

Right, so the above things are how we used to make computers, but they were super bulky, and you'd have to deal with how relays are super loud and kinda slow, and vacuum tubes need a big power draw and get hot. What we use instead of either of those these days are transistors. See after spending a good number of years working out all this circuit flow stuff with vacuum tubes we eventually focused on how the real important thing in all of this is how with the right materials you can make a little juncture where current flows between a positive and negative charge if a third wire going in there is also positively charged, but if it's negatively charged we're pulling over. And turns out there is a WAY more efficient way of doing that if you take a chunk of good ol' middle of the electron road silicon, and just kinda lightly paint the side of it with just the tiniest amount of positive leaning and negative leaning elements on the sides.

Really transistors don't require understanding anything new past the large number of topics already covered here, they're just more compact about it. Positive leaning bit, negative leaning bit, wildcard in the middle, like a vacuum tube. Based on the concepts of pulling electrons around from chemistry, like a circuit in general. The control wire in the middle kinda works in just a pass-fail sort of way, like a relay. They're just really nice compared to the older alternatives because they don't make noise or have moving parts to wear down, you don't have to run enough current through them for metal to start glowing and the whole room to heat up, and you can make them small. Absurdly small. Like... need an electron microscope to see them small.

And of course you can also make an inverter super tiny like that, and a diode (while you're at it you can use special materials or phosphors to make them light emitting, go LEDs!) and resistors can get pretty damn small if you just use less of a more resistant material, capacitors I think have a limit to how tiny you can get, practically, but yeah, you now know enough of the basic fundamentals of how computers work to throw some logic gates together. We've covered how a relay, triode, or transistor function as an AND gate. An OR gate is super easy, you just stick diodes on two wires so you don't have messy backflow then connect them together and lead off there. If you can get your head around wiring up an inverter (AKA NOT), hey, stick one after an AND to get a NAND, or an OR to get a NOR. You can work out XOR and XNOR from there right? Just build 4 NANDs, pass input A into gates 1 and 2, B into 2 and 3, 2's output into 1 and 3, 1 and 3's output into 4 for a XOR, use NORs instead for a XNOR. That's all of them right? So now just build a ton of those and arrange them into a computer. It's all logic and math from there.

Oh right. It's... an absurd amount of logic and math, and I can only fit so many words in a blog post. So we'll have to go all...

CONTINUED IN PART 2!

Meanwhile, again, if you can spare some cash I'd really appreciate it.

#computers #computer science #history #electronics #education #relays #transistors #vacuum tubes

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saintescuderia · 1 month

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pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, a Spanish man, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

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girlgrouptrash101 · 5 months

Text

Karina (Aespa) as Your Girlfriend

Requests:

"aespa’s karina as your gf please?"

"Can you do Karina from aespa as a girlfriend please?"

"I would like to request Aespa Karina as your girlfriend 😍"

"hi!! i hope your having a great day and i hope your doing well, can i request aespa’s karina as your gf? thank you~"

"Hello! Can I please request Aespa’s Karina as your girlfriend? Thank you!"

A/N: cannot believe it has been over 2 years since I've written anything lol. so here's a lil something to try get the creative juices flowing again wOO 🤭

- C

when 99% of the relationship is you just staring at karina and wondering how someone can be that beautiful. as you SHOULD

idk why but i feel like karina is the perfect person for the trope where she would make a habit of going to the same coffee shop every day even though she hates coffee,, just because you were the cute barista that worked there

despite her cool and composed aura, she unfortunately had no idea how to talk to you outside of ordering a drink; her brain would just fizzle out whenever she tried to strike up further conversation 🥲

so you had to be the one to take the first step, which took a hot minute because perhaps. miss yoo jimin had a sliiiiiightly threatening aura at first (you quickly learned she was really just a cutie patootie behind that stoic face she tended to wear. teehee)

after gaining enough courage, you ended up asking her out for coffee because you thought hm,, she comes here every day for coffee she must love it!

safe to say it was a little surprising when she responded with a very embarrassed "...i don't even like coffee"

with the tips of her ears flushing red as she had to explain her reasoning behind coming in every day

you decided instead to take her to the carnival that came to town every summer

[insert cliche top of the ferris wheel kiss here]

and every summer since then you've always gone to the carnival together, the two of you running around to go on all the rides like little kids, never getting tired of it even though you do the same thing every time it comes

she's the kind of girl to be super head over heels for you but never admit it until those times where you lay side by side in bed at night, your eyes doing your best to see each other's silhouettes in the dark

her hand coming up to rest on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your face as she reminds you of how much you mean to her

but don't bring it up the morning after unless you wanna get hit with the "idek what you're talking about i would never be so sappy 🤨"

fit checks!!!

refuses to leave the house in said fit unless you send a paragraph in all caps hyping her tf up (it's just what she deserves!)

queen of soft launching your relationship on social media 🥹

like IG stories of flowers you gave her, or your hands intertwined, but nothing too much more than that

because it's her relationship and she doesn't need the world to know about every little thing you two get up to,, that's for her to know and her only

well......... her and the aespa girlies who can't help but smile every time their leader comes home and launches herself face first into her pillow, gushing over how much she likes you and how nice your date was

(which she will NEVER admit happens. she's no softie, okay? okay. yes she is hehehehe)

ningning stealing karina's phone at the dorm and blowing your phone up with memes n sending off guard pics of Karina lol <3

Loves going for walks in the park nearby, no matter the weather or time, especially if there's something on her mind and she just wants to get some fresh air and chat it out with you

lives in your hoodies whether you like it or not, you have no choice cuz girlie just treats your wardrobe as hers

never brings PJs when she's staying at yours as an excuse for you to lend her even more clothes

brings a film camera everywhere,, her favourite thing is when the film fills up and she gets the pictures developed so she can bring them back to you and you can look back over the memories shared together

scrapbooking together !!! will even spend hours in the stationary shop looking for the perfect pen/washi tape to use for it hehe.

Can't stand it but also loves it when you compliment her as often as you do

(but it hurts ur heart a little when you feel she doesn't believe what you say is true, you wish she could feel the same love she has for you for herself too :[ )

so you pledge to always be there to lift her up and be her #1 fan!! in both day to day life and as a My of course

which meanssss first row seats to all the aespa concerts, practice nights, just generally supporting her through thick and thin, and she will no doubt do the same for you!

and that one day you came to an aespa fansign to surprise her 🥹 she had to hold back all the affection she wanted to give you :((((

gaming nights 🤓 and by gaming i mean gardenscapes....... god she's such a lil nerd

anime nights 🤓 her getting all excited when her faves come on screen, smacking you on the leg repeatedly with joy while she explains what's going on (because as much as you enjoy sitting down to watch her favourite shows w her, you really didn't understand half of it LOL)

loooooves late night arcade dates

especially so she can win plushies in the claw machines,,, or rather, you can win them for her (so chivalrous 😁)

her love for claw machine plushies gets so bad that your bed now has a mountain of them stacked up that you have to throw off before bed everyyyyy night omg

not to change the subject but like. Karina's morning cuddles 🥹

or for the mornings where you wake up late, your eyes opening to the sound of her padding back into the bedroom to check on you, a smile creeping onto your face as you feel the bed sink where she sits by your side

and when she leans over to kiss your forehead, her gorgeous locks framing her face while her cute glasses slip down her nose 🥹🥹🥹 IM GONNA CRY

tldr; the softest girl that just wants to be loved the way she loves you 😔

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neonghostlights · 7 months

Note

hey angel ! do you think you could write an eddiexreader about maybe powered!reader (like el) and eddie hanging out & maybe she has a nightmare and is crying & the lights r flickering so he thinks she’s getting vecnad 😭💗😭

I LOVE this request. I’ve been wanting to write something with a powered!reader for a while. I wish I had the capacity to turn this into a series. Thank you for the request!!

Warnings: mean!Eddie (he does have a reason), nightmares, blood, death, Vecna, hurt/no comfort (I literally have their whole love story planned out in my head though) 18+ only, minors DNI

Wordcount: 1.9k

Turn On The Lights

Sleeping had been hard lately.

You think that maybe it was the change of location after being locked in a small joke of a bedroom in the lab. Or maybe it was the fact that you weren’t having sleeping pills shoved down your throat every night after years of taking them.

Life has changed a lot since you escaped Nina with El.

You were surprised to see her there after all, assuming that 001 had killed her like he did everyone else in the Hawkins lab when he had his massive temper tantrum.

In the midst of the chaos, you and Kali had the chance to get out and run to New York. If you had known there was anyone left to save then you would have taken El with you. Maybe then she shouldn’t have the weight of the world resting on her young shoulders.

You were with Kali and your little group of misfit friends for a while before you and Kali decided to go your separate ways over some creative differences.

You ran into some trouble and got caught again, landing yourself right back into the arms of the people you were trying your hardest to stay away from.

But that was the past, and now you were currently sitting cross legged on Eddie Munsons bed.

He was on the other side of the room at his desk in his brand new government supplied trailer, flipping through a magazine that you knew for a fact he wasn’t reading.

He wasn’t even pretending to skim the page.

Eddie was always weird around you. From the second you stepped out of the back of Argyle’s smelly van and into his hospital room he shied away from you.

You didn’t really understand why.

It reminded you of your time in the lab. Since you were 003, you were older than most of the group. There had been large gaps before Papa had gotten his science right and started producing more little weapons wrapped in baby blankets.

There was never really anyone to play with.

But now you are an adult that was no longer in the hands of seedy scientists and were facing the same treatment you had growing up from a grown man that was nice to everyone else but you.

The rest of the group were nice enough to you. Robin even complimented your shaved head once. Nancy let you have some of her old clothes. And El was becoming a true sister to you.

Eddie sighed, and you looked over at him, something that you usually avoided doing because he would shoot you dirty looks.

Like he was doing now that he noticed you staring at him.

“Can I help you?” He asked, in a tone that made you think that he actually didn’t want to help you.

“Do you need something for the pain?” You asked, sweet as sugar.

“No,” he snapped before looking back down at what he was pretending to read.

You didn’t miss the way he eyed the glass of water he had left on his bedside table longingly.

You lifted your hand, hoping to get into his good graces by getting him what he needed before he could even ask. You felt the pressure and power flowing through you as you lifted the glass of water off of his nightstand with your mind, letting it float towards him across the room.

As it got closer to Eddie, you noticed the thunderous expression on his face instead of the wide eyed wonder or gratefulness you would have expected.

“Don’t!” He yelled, snatching the water from the air so hard that it sloshed onto the carpet.

“Don’t what?” You stuttered out, confused as to what you did wrong.

“Don’t do that shit in my house,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

He started to get up, like he wanted to storm out. But his body protested against his movements.

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to calm him down. You didn’t dare get closer to him. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

You watched as the redness slowly started to creep from his face and he leaned back into his chair. There was a slight tremble in his body as he gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

Yeah, he really didn’t like you. Your presence was enough to make him this angry.

You were so embarrassed that you could cry. You felt your face start to heat and you turned your head, hiding your face into the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

It was your turn to sigh as you laid back and rested your head on the bed. Hope he wouldn’t mind you using his pillow. Maybe he would yell at you for breathing too loud too.

You weren’t even supposed to be here right now. Everyone was busy and Wayne had a last minute shift at the plant meaning you were the only adult here to babysit Eddie.

You laughed a little to yourself silently, knowing how mad he would be if you suggested you were babysitting him.

Eddie didn’t need a whole lot of help anymore. It was mostly just making sure he didn’t fall, pull a stitch, and stayed on top of his medication.

Honestly, you were surprised he didn’t try to chase you out of the room with one of his crutches as soon as you sat down on his bed.

You stared up at his ceiling, your eyelids growing a little bit heavier.

One second you were lying on Eddie Munsons messy bed and the next you were on the thin cot of your cell in the lab. The white textured paint of his bedroom ceiling turned into a hard metal.

You sat up quickly and the room spun.

You had dreamed that you escaped again and this time you had conjured up a long haired man.

You weren’t expecting to feel sad that Eddie Munson didn’t exist but there was an ache in your gut that felt like longing. It was the feeling you had when you thought about finding a home you would never have or living the normal life of someone that was in their twenties.

Your brain was a traitor. It allowed you to have a little taste of freedom just to snatch it away from you. Even if your freedom in Hawkins wasn’t as glamorous as you had imagined, it was still something.

You crossed the room, heading towards the large door. It would be locked. It always was until the guards opened it for the morning.

To your surprise, it creaked open slowly before you could even reach it. You stood there confused, unsure if it was some sort of test. Sometimes the guards would get bored and mess with you. Of course you were never let in on these practical jokes.

When you didn’t hear any laughter you stepped out of the room and into the empty hallway.

It was always so dark in this lab compared to the one in Hawkins since this one was underground. There were lights overhead, but they flickered and buzzed like they would go out at any second.

You could feel the weak energy pouring from them. They would be easy to control if the thing in your neck wasn’t dampening your powers.

Now, anyone else would see the lack of guards and scientists as a win. But you had always thrived on routines.

And you really wanted your breakfast.

“Hello?!” You called down the hallway, waiting for someone to realize the mistake.

But no one answered. There wasn’t even the echo of footsteps or chatter. Sounds had always echoed and traveled easily throughout the bunker.

The only sound was a constant drip.

You walked down the hallway that you knew would lead to a makeshift command center. Someone would be there to yell at you about being out of your cell too early.

You reached the end of the hall, hand on the door and threw it open.

But it wasn’t the command center anymore.

You were back in the rainbow room at the Hawkins lab.

And there were bodies everywhere.

You stumbled, your back hitting the now closed and locked door behind you. There was so much blood it dripped from the walls and hit the ground in continuous splats.

You couldn’t help the blood curdling scream that escaped your lips when you recognized the faces on the bodies around you.

All of the friends you had made in Hawkins were sprawled across the room.

Including Eddie.

The lights over your head cracked and exploded as you screamed, turning and banging on the door and begging to be let out.

The sound of the intercom crackled to life but you ignored it, trying to pry the metal door open with your fingers.

“Wake up,” a voice over the intercom spoke.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

You screamed again, using your powers to knock the door off the hinges in one blow.

You fell into the hallway and woke up in Eddie’s bed with a gasp.

He had both of his hands on your shoulder, mid shake. His face hovered over yours with a look of concern.

Your lungs ached, a telltale sign that you had been holding your breath. You wiped a bead of sweat from running down your face. When the hell had it gotten so hot in there?

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “I had a bad dream again.”

“Has that been happening a lot? I mean do you think he-”

“No. He can’t get in my head. I would know,” you said with a shake of your head. You didn’t know if that was true or not but you would like to think you would know 001’s presence.

Eddie pushed away from you as he sat on the side of the bed. You noticed now that his crutches were left on the other side of the room. It was probably hell for him to drag himself over to you in a hurry.

He was shaking, hand running through his hair repeatedly. His breath trembled as he tried to slow it down but you couldn’t miss the unmistakable panic on his face.

“Eddie, I’m fine,” you sat up and scooted next to him, making sure not to touch him.

“The fucking lights were flickering and I thought-I thought it was happening again,” he said with a broken voice.

You nodded solemnly. You had heard all about what happened to Chrissy Cunningham at Eddie’s previous home in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“It’s not you, you know?” He explained without you asking. “I don’t think that you’re a bad person, it's just what you can do that scares me. And if you would have told me all of this months ago I would have thought you were the coolest person but now.” He shook his head with a scowl. “Now that I’ve seen what Vecna can do and knowing that you can do the same things as him. I just can’t be your friend. I don’t trust you and I want you to stay away from me.”

You felt your eyes start to water as you absorbed what he was telling you.

He didn’t like what you were.

He didn’t like what they made you.

You nodded, standing quickly from the bed and wiping your eyes.

“I understand,” you told him as you went to leave the room. You paused in his doorway for a moment.

“All I ask is that you don’t treat my sister like you treat me.”

You knew he wouldn’t be mean to her. He had been nothing but kind towards El and all of the kids.

You went to wait on the couch, crying alone until Wayne came home.

You didn’t see Eddie anymore before you left.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x powered! reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson request

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l3xdrigo · 2 months

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I had silly thoughts run into my mind, Regulus igniting Vertin's passion to do art again by showing her an abandoned wall and bringing spray paint.

Vertin is more traditionally on painting but she has known about spray paint and has been wanting to try them for a long time and Regulus gives her the opportunity to test them out.

When first picking up one of the spray cans, she's not sure what she wants to create, what type of mural or artwork. Vertin is pretty unfamiliar on how to work with such a big canvas, and with a tool she hasn't quite got the grasp of yet. Regulus comes back with a bunch of paint buckets and big and small paintbrushes "What are these for? " "To help us with the painting of course, I may not be the best at any painting stuff but this pirate is passionate in anything art based and the freedom of expression! " Regulus happily chimed.

Vertin was grateful but she's not sure what to make yet, so she asked Regulus who gave her one of the buckets of paint, puzzled, she looks at Regulus "what am I supposed to do with this? "

"Throw it of course! Throw it against the wall and watch it splatter, let it be messy, let your artwork be free. It has been awhile since you last painted yes? So why not let all your creative ideas out now? "

Vertin looks at Regulus and then to the paint bucket in her hands, the swirling color inside it, she knows what she needs to do. Taking a slight step back, she throws the paint out of the bucket towards the wall, making a huge splatter to it and some to themselves as well. Regulus let's out a cheer "There ya go! Now, Let's get painting!"

Splashes of colors added to the wall, the more added, the more Vertin felt free. The paint flowing down like raindrops, the lines of contrasting colors overlapping each other, using the spray paints to add more texture and little designs and details. It was messy yes, but it was free, Regulus smiling wildly as she continues to paint the already very colorful wall, this felt nice, it felt great. Vertin was smiling, laughing even at times where they get hit with splashes of paint, Regulus's joy has been contagious and seeing Vertin happy made Regulus even more joyful.

After finally finishing their artwork, both sat down on the ground, facing what they've created. It was a messy mural, with designs of their interest, a music disk, some doves, a golden thread, butterflies and much more. Both were covered in paint and colors, it'll take a while to get them off but that's the least of their worries for now. "I think this pirate can say that, that is one beautiful mural" "It is, thank you Regulus, for bringing me out here and doing this" "No problem, you've been cooped up in that office for days now, I think you deserved a break.. And you did tell me you liked painting so, this was the best idea I could come up with" "One of the ideas you had that didn't end in disaster *pfft*" "Oi-"

Both bickered for a bit, laughing and giggling like children. It's moments like these that make all the work and sacrifices worth it, even with the weight of responsibility of being the timekeeper, others are lending a hand to carry the weight, just like Regulus. Both sat there, as the sun sets and hope rebuilds.

(Or platonic soulmate Reguvert my beloveds<333)

Bonus:

As both sat quietly, a song from the radio that Regulus brought suddenly plays "Oh hell yeah! I love this song.. Say Vertin, do you dance? "

The timekeeper pondered for a bit and gave her an answer "I do, why? "

"Well, would you like to dance with this pirate? I think that'll be fun"Regulus stood up and stretched out her hand, Vertin, slightly surprised by the sudden request, but accepted it, taking Regulus's hand into hers.

" Though be aware that this pirate may not be the best at dancing, but will certainly try her best" It's been awhile since both had danced, and more so with someone but none of that mattered right now, they're just here to have fun. Dancing to the beat of the music, as both moved to the rhythm, a few slip up's here and there but is still going strong. Going with the flow of the music, both have actually made a good dancing pair, being able to move to the rhythm easily and adjusting their movements to near perfection. Despite not even having steps in mind, both have their own, synchronized and adapting as the music goes on. It felt like walking on air as they continued to dance, they kept this on till the music ended and both were exhausted.

"I must say, you're a great dancer Regulus"

"Thanks, you're not half bad yourself, we should do this more often" "I'll check if my schedule can free up a bit"

They realized that it was near dark soon, both headed back into the suitcase, walking and talking about their interest, plans and anything really. They've grown into each other's company, and they wouldn't have it any other way, a captain and her second best mate, a bellwether and her first follower.

#reverse 1999 #vertin #Regulus #Reguvert #I dont really mind if you see this as romantic or platonic #I just have brainrot about them and wanted to share this :3 #the captain's second best mate #the bellwether's first follower after years of walking alone

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aclowntiny · 10 months

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🏰 Ateez as Hogwarts Students🪄

Who wouldn’t want to go to Hogwarts with these boys? 😁 can’t wait to write some AUs for them too!

Hongjoong

☆ “Ah,” the Sorting Hat hums as it’s set atop Hongjoong’s head, “the mind of an artist. Don’t see this one too often. Creative, determined, you like to do what you want.” With a chuckle, the hat’s folds opened again, this time with a shout of “Ravenclaw!” Hongjoong is proud, hoping he could represent the house known for creatives and intellectuals who push boundaries.

☆ Proudest “blood traitor” Pure-Blood family this side of Hogwarts, that’s the Kims, especially Hongjoong 😌

☆ Like, the only student at Hogwarts who has an actual knack for Divination, like he actually sees things and they actually make sense. No one believes Hongjoong until something actually comes true. He even asks for his own crystal ball from his parents for Christmas and customizes a really pretty base for it. He’s also really skilled at Transfiguration, all the really flowing magic just cones to him even though there’s a precision to that one. Hongjoong can roll with it all!

☆ He doesn’t hate any of his classes, but History of Magic is the least interesting one for sure.

☆ Hongjoong joins the Ravenclaw Quidditch team as a Chaser, a position where he can lead and guide the team…and also try to pull as many distracting trick shots as he can! Gets really creative with how he spins the ball.

☆ He cannot wait to see what his Patronus looks like, secretly hoping to either get something adorable or really beautiful. He gets his wish and then some as wings burst out, a phoenix flying from his wand. It is quite rare for someone to have a magical creature for a Patronus, but chalk that up to Hongjoong’s spirit! He absolutely adores his Patronus, the sight of it perched on his shoulder, and his heart swells. His memories literally created magic.

Seonghwa

☆ He kind of wants Gryffindor, but has been told he'd make a good Hufflepuff, so ultimately Seonghwa leaves it up to the hat's decision. "Leaving it up to me, huh?" The Sorting Hat chuckles. "You're kind. You care for and value others...and their opinions apparently! You're a Hufflepuff!" Huh, so that was that.

☆ Having Muggle parents, he was quite surprised to develop powers, but a quick visit from his future teachers cleared things up…sort of! He can’t get over how amazing Diagon Alley is, dragging his parents into every shop he can.

☆ Absolutely ENAMORED with Care of Magical Creatures, like oh my gosh little tree guys! Funny cats! A REAL HIPPOGRIFF??? Seonghwa can’t get enough of the fantastic animals. He’s also a natural at Herbology, basically you can always trust him to keep things alive! Both of those classes simultaneously relax and excite him.

☆ Flying? Up that high? No thank you!

☆ Due to his fear of heights, Seonghwa doesn’t join Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team, but is the loudest, proudest supporter out there! You’ll always find him in the stands, especially since he has friends in every house.

☆ Seonghwa wonders what animal he'll get: maybe a cute cat or a big, strong tiger? A lovely mare? Sort of! A large pegasus is what ends up soaring from the tip of his wand, spreading its gorgeous wings and snuffling at its partner, bringing a wide-eyed look of eye and smile to him as he reaches his hands out to the white winged horse.

Yunho

☆ He’s outgoing, so maybe Gryffindor? That’s what Yunho thinks as he does some pre-hat self-reflection. The hat, however, takes a different approach. “Hm, kind, loving, loyal, yes, very loyal…” “Thanks!” Yunho exclaims, surprised the hat seems so nice. This isn’t so bad! “This one goes to Hufflepuff!” Yunho is surprised, but it makes sense given what the hat said. Happiness shouldn’t be too hard to find in Hogwarts’s kindest house!

☆ Yunho’s family is Pure-Blooded, but they raise their children with great sympathy for those without magic.

☆ Due to his interest in the world outside of wizarding, Yunho signs up for the Muggle Studies elective and loves it. They use electricity? Like lightning trapped in metal and that’s how telephones work? It’s almost more amazing how people go without magic than just waving a wand and making things move on their own! He also enjoys Charms, just quick little spells he can let go on the fly for fun.

☆ Doesn’t really hate any particular classes, but he got emotionally attached to the mandrake he raised in Herbology and got sad when it died.

☆ One of Hufflepuff’s Chasers. Loves the feeling of the wind in his hair and being able to fly victory loops when he scores and wins!

☆ Yunho is so excited when it’s his turn to try a Patronus, practically bouncing on his heels and hoping he gets a cool one as he remembers so many wonderful and exciting moments of his life so far. With quite a burst, a golden retriever leaps out and stands up on him, almost bowling him over!

Yeosang

☆ "You're an interesting one, aren't you?" "Er, thank you...sir?" Yeosang glanced upward at the mass of fabric atop his head. "You're trying not to laugh right now," the hat exposes him, "and yet a thousand ideas are coming to your head. Best express a few of those. Ravenclaw!" Yeosang wasn't sure what he was expecting, sure he thought he could make Gryffindor and some of his friends teased him about being a shoo-in for Slytherin, but something about being in a quiet, intelligent house didn't bother him either. He could be more than happy about that!

☆ A Half-Blood born to a Muggle and a wizard, Yeosang has a foot in both worlds. Magic is no great surprise to him, though, being raised around all his wizarding family and the rest sworn to secrecy! His Muggle cousins are so jealous he gets powers!

☆ Enjoys Astronomy because it’s really relaxing to look at the stars and draw beautiful charts. The idea that they might reveal secrets is amazing to Yeosang too. He jokes about taking Muggle Studies just for the bit, but ends up in Ancient Runes with Hongjoong. It’s a hard class but at least they can write secret code notes to each other!

☆ He’s not a huge fan of Potions because the mistakes tend to get messy! Wishes he could take it with Wooyoung every year.

☆ Ravenclaw’s Seeker, Yeosang has a knack for focusing in on one thing and even when his eyes wander, having them land on the golden snitch!

☆ Frankly, Yeosang isn’t sure what he’s expecting, like will the animal look like him? Represent his memories somehow? Just be whatever it happens to be? Despite having no specific expectations, he still can’t contain his awe and surprise when a glowing lioness slides out of his wand, fierce but caring and capable, and leans to peer at him with soft eyes.

San

☆ He’s not sure if he’s more of a Slytherin or a Gryffindor honestly, but the assumption in his mind is that he’s one of the two. “Slytherin or Gryffindor, huh?” The Sorting Hat asks. “Well, I just thought of those as the houses that take action, and-” “You’re a doer, huh?” The hat replies. “Big heart, too. I’ll say…Gryffindor!” The hat seemed to agree with San and listen to him, so he’s happy to join the house of lions!

☆ San is a Half-Blood, his parents being a Half-Blood and a Muggleborn, so he has plenty of wizarding experience along with his sister, but there’s something special about the memories they make with their Muggle grandparents!

☆ This boy loves to fly! He’s pretty sad it’s only an official regular class in First Year because an hour of flying is the best decompress after a bunch of lessons. He also really loves Care of Magical Creatures, trying to apply what he knows from caring for the cat he brings to Hogwarts as if it’ll help him remember what nifflers eat!

☆ History of Magic bores him, but at least it’s a good excuse to goof off and play with his friends in- all while keeping his head up as much as possible, of course.

☆ One of Gryffindor’s Chasers. Addicted to the rush of flying, just being able to soar around after the balls. Also loves having that opportunity to contribute to a team, it makes his heart warm!

☆ Everyone says it’s going to be a cat, and San just laughs, saying he wouldn’t mind at all. Well, luckily for his Patronus San is good-natured, for it slinks out of his wand as a Siamese cat that looks suspiciously familiar… perhaps Patronuses really are made from the things people love most.

Mingi

☆ Mingi wants to be in Ravenclaw, even though the house’s reputation for great minds is a bit daunting. “So, it’s Ravenclaw you want?” The Sorting Hat asks him. “Well, if I’m being honest,” Mingi replies, “yes. I- I think I can do it!” “Of course you can. You’ve a good mind on you,” the hat tells him, “Ravenclaw it is!” So proud to be in his dream house, Mingi swears to prove himself worthy of it.

☆ As a Muggleborn, he gets thrust into the wizarding world very quickly, but he makes friends the moment they set foot in Diagon Alley, so that’s where he learns about things like his school’s houses and sports. Mingi feels so lucky to get to experience it all and that the other kids he meets are so nice!

☆ Absolute Arithmancy whiz! Everyone’s whining about how hard it is and here’s Mingi with his great grades like it’s nothing, even though he’s forgotten his inkwell a few times. Everyone thinks he’s not going to be good at Potions but he surprises them with that too. Never has any big blowups and really likes making different brews once he gets the hang of it!

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts makes him nervous because he didn’t realize how dangerous the wizarding world could be! Could those things really be out there to get him or his friends? He can only hope he remembers all he learns.

☆ Prefers watching Quidditch to playing, but he hand-makes a banner to wave in the stands that is the most precious mood booster to the team!

☆ Mingi isn’t sure what he’s going to get, jokes ranging from a powerful lion despite him being in Ravenclaw to a little leaping bunny. As his will is focused through his hand and wand, though, joy turning into light, it takes the shape of a snowy owl. Wise, fierce-looking, and yet…it tumbles over and bursts into what looks like a smile at the sight of its caster and Mingi can’t help smiling back!

Wooyoung

☆ The Sorting Hat speaks almost the second it’s placed on Wooyoung’s head. “Oh, Merlin! This one’s a Gryffindor if I’ve ever seen one!” Grinning, Wooyoung is off the stool in no time, proud to get the house he wanted so definitively.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, both of his parents wizards just descended from mixed lines, plenty of Muggleborn and Half-Blood genes contributing. He used to joke that his family needed to be careful or else they’d end up with a bunch of squibs, but he couldn’t care less about blood- they’re his family.

☆ This boy LOVES Charms- any class he can use to screw with his friends is a great one for Wooyoung! He’s also an absolute star at Potions AKA his friends’ savior when they need help. He just legitimately loves it, though, so working on even the homework for it is often fun for him!

☆ Cannot STAND History of Magic, it’s just blah blah blah…but at least he can kick San under the bench and see what random stuff he can levitate without Binns noticing (it’s a lot).

☆ Another of Gryffindor’s Chasers, Wooyoung is known for taking (and often landing) really daring shots! May even want to try out for captain later on.

☆ Jokes about his Patronus looking like a lion because he’s that proud to be a Gryffindor, but as he remembers good times with friends and family and a fox leaps from his wand with a sly tilt of its head, Wooyoung can’t help but feel like he got the perfect partner.

Jongho

☆ "You're good at something once you put your mind to it." Jongho's mouth fell open into a little 'o' of surprise, not expecting a compliment from the Sorting Hat of all people...well, beings? "Convincing, too, very convincing. You can take charge when you need to." Jongho nodded along with the hat's words right up to the moment it called out "Slytherin!" He was a bit surprised being so brave and active, but he sort of had the feeling it'd be either Gryffindor or Slytherin.

☆ A Pure-Blood wizard, Jongho doesn’t let the pressure of that get to him- to him they’re all witches and wizards, it’s their skills and application that depend, and he intends to use and grow his!

☆ One of his favorite subjects is Flying because it helps him practice for Quidditch, one of his greatest areas of desire to achieve! He also adores Muggle Studies, the class where he learns about Muggle sports like soccer and subsequently tries to find Muggleborns to play with him.

☆ Considers dropping Divination because it’s such a ridiculous class, but keeps it just because it ends up being some of the most fun bonding time with friends. And ok, fine, once something may have been accurate and the curiosity has eaten him up since.

☆ One of Slytherin’s Beaters, and boy is he good at it! Such a strong arm makes for some spectacular Bludger shots. A big part of why the other teams are worried about playing Slytherin.

☆ Is determined to cast a corporeal Patronus, focusing with all his might on his best memory. It definitely pays off, he thinks, as a massive light fills the space in front of him, coalescing into the form of a big grizzly bear ready to firmly protect him.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez hogwarts au #hogwarts au

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typh0nas · 2 years

Text

The Things He Does When He’s With You(Luxiem)

__________________________

Content Warning(s): none!

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Vox Akuma, Ike Eveland, Mysta Rias, Shu Yamino, Luca Kaneshiro

Authors Notes: Hello everyone! I guess I wanted to dabble into the NijiEN fandom on Tumblr seeing as I’ve really been into that recently. Apologies if any of my writing is OOC because I don’t have much time to catch a lot of their streams but I do watch a lot of their clips, as well as taking a long time to complete this. I kinda hit writers block and lost some motivation but I’ve been slowly adding to it. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Man my luca bias kinda slipped out in this wHOOPS

__________________________

Vox Akuma {👹🧧}

The way he holds your hand gently, as presses chaste kisses against your skin. He was once the leader of a magnificent clan, but now, lost in time. He can't remember the last time, he was like this with someone but for now he'll enjoy the moment.

The way he smiles gently at you in adoration, his hand resting on your cheek. His hand stays there for a moment before dropping back to his side. Though his touch is fleeting, there's a slight warm that lingers. You wonder if it's because you're blushing, but regardless you can't help but want to cling onto his touch more.

The way his words flow out easily, flirtatious comments all directed at you. You deflect his advances with a blush and a slight scowl, but nothing can hide the longing glances the two of you give each other. When one is caught staring by the other, it's masked by a thinly veiled excuse.

The way that he’ll go out of his way to make your favorite meals. We all know that Vox is a phenomenal cook, I mean, have you seen his posts on Twitter? Even when you don’t have the right ingredients and you leave to go get what you need, when you come back, the food is miraculously on the table. Vox claims that he went to go buy it for you, but you always know the distinct taste of specifically his cooking.

more under the cut!

Mysta Rias {🕵‍♂️🦊}

The way he’ll purposely do something dumb or silly just to make you feel better. Mysta’s awfully perceptive when it comes to you, so any mood change on your part, he’ll pick up on fairly quickly. If you’re happy then he’s happy, and if you’re sad, well, Mysta will try his best to try and make you happy again.

The way he’ll vehemently try to deny that he’s clearly a fat simp for you. With a bright blush on his face and stuttering words, he’ll try to hide his flustered expression from you. His genmates will constantly tease him on stream, finding his reactions funny.

The way he’ll drop everything to help you with something you're struggling with. Though he may not seem like it, Mysta is more reliable than he comes off. He'll give you little reminders, like to drink water, or asks if you've had something to eat. All way that he shows just how much he loves you.

The way he'll drape his coat over your shoulders when you say you're cold. He'll say he's only doing it cause he'll feel like an ass if he doesn't but literally everyone else knows that he's doing it for other reasons. It's good for two reasons, the first being that it keeps you nice and warm, the second being that it's a firm declaration that you belong to Mysta.

Ike Eveland {🖋🔷️}

The way he'll extend his free hand out to you while his other hand is busy writing away at his notebook. His fingers are long and thin, wrapping around your hand quite easily. His thumb rubs small circles on your hand, a soft but subtle smile on his face.

The way he'll compose songs just for you when he's thinking about you. You give him bursts of creativity as he furiously works away. And once he finishes, he'll present the finished song to you, an air of pride about him.

The way he'll converse with you in Swedish, even if you don't understand. He finds it cute how you look at him in confusion, before asking him to translate it. He'll refuse for the first few times wanting to see if you can get it, but relents after seeing you pout up at him, unable to resist how adorable you are.

The way he'll gaze at you while he writes, creating all sorts of scenarios in his mind. One day, Ike knows he'll be able to work up the courage to ask you to be his, but fearful of ruining the relationship the two of you have, he'd prefer to stay silent. So for now, he'll keep on writing, hoping that one day you'll confess you feel the same as he does.

Shu Yamino {👟☯️}

The way he'll crack that familiar cheshire grin whenever he sees you. When you ask him what he's smiling about, he'll shake his head and says that he'll tell you at a different time.

The way he'll tease you if he catches you staring for a little bit too long. As that familiar laugh resounds in your ears, you look away, flustered. What you fail to see is the fond look he shoots your way, a faint hint of wistfulness in his gaze.

The way he’ll smoothly slip an arm around your waist or your shoulders when he sees that someone’s bothering you. It’s evident by the uncomfortable look on your face and the way you constantly keep glancing over at him, asking for his help in stepping in.

The way he hugs you tight, almost as if he's scared that you'll disappear on him. Being a sorcerer, Shu can summon things as he pleases, but materialistic items can only bring so much happiness to an individual, but is that happiness even real? The way he feels with you is true, a genuine kind of affection and he'll be damned if he lets that slip out of his fingertips.

Luca Kaneshiro {🦁💰}

The way he’ll immediately turn to you, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, wanting to hear you praise him. To hear you say something nice about what he did. And upon receiving your praise, he exclaims a loud, “Pog!” beaming at you. If Luca had dog ears and a tail I’m sure you would see his ears perked up and his tail wagging out of excitement.

The way he’ll pull you into his lap, dismissing his bodyguards so that it was just the two of you alone. You squirm in his lap, feeling your face grow warm because of how close in proximity the two of you are to each other. All of your senses are just filled Luca, not that you’re objecting to it.

The way he’ll buy you whatever he sees that catches your eye. Being a mafia boss, Luca has a lot of money and resources. It’s no trouble to him if you like it. You can try to deny the gift but as soon as he pulls it out, he’s not taking it back, it’s yours to keep. Luca treasures you a lot, and to him, he would give you anything if he could. If you asked for the moon, he would give it to you in a heartbeat.

The way he’ll come up to you, asking you about how your day was without fail. The bright smile on his face, he pulls you into his embrace, his voice echoing around his office. Depending on your response, if you said that it was a good day, he’ll grin and go, “that’s great!”. But if you had a not so good day, he’ll frown for a brief moment before brightening up and grabbing your hand, pulling you along. When you question him on where you’re going, he tells you that he’s taking you to your favorite restaurant or favorite place, and everything’s on him.

Back to Navigation {☆}

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijisanji luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #ashers writing #not a request

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a-risk-to-take · 3 months

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….you posted your tattoo (sick) and linked to house of dirk and i read it all and its unfinished. if you hadn’t posted i may have lived my life without getting fanfic blue balled for the first time since 2015. if you have any sympathy for my loss you would give me fanfic recs >:[ /lh

I feel your pain believe me 😭😭 I’m sorry I didn’t warn you at least. I’m low-key hoping the tattoo image gets to imarriedacherub and inspires them to continue the story - obviously not likely but it’s nice to dream!

I got recs for you though! I’ve got hundreds of bookmarks on my ao3 but here’s the HS stuff I love the most:

The epics:

Dayvhe’s Broken Diamond Club and everything by @unda-dsk: DBDC is my personal fave of theirs, and the best treatment of troll culture in any fic ever. If you know HS fic you are probably aware of MC Escher That’s My Favorite MC, and that one is absolutely excellent and completely deserves its status as one of the very best. And then there’s Alternate Universe, which is a perfect and beautiful magic school story. All of these are absolutely top-tier - I cannot stress this enough. They are epic and very long but some of the best stuff I’ve ever read—fanfic or otherwise—and they changed me when I read them. Despite the length, DBDC is very episodic so you can read each chapter as its own story and easily take breaks in between them without losing the flow, so you might want to start there. I promise it’s worth it!!

so we don’t kill the ones we love by @callmearcturus: I’ve never read anyone who can create an atmosphere like Arc can - this one is kind of a John Wick AU but in a really refreshing and elevated way. The characterization is so on point. Lots more I could rave about but I’ll just add that Arc’s Karkats are the hottest and most based out there. Again all his stuff is really good - this one is my favorite, but don’t miss this really cool magic artisan AU also.

The meteorstucks:

Aahhh there’s no way this is gonna be complete because I’ve read like hundreds and I get them confused but these are some that stand out. In case you haven’t notice already this list is gonna be very davekat centric!

Keep It Down by sburbanite - chef’s kiss concept and execution just read it

A Xenological Exploration of Music and Language by superbloom - super fun and well written with neat headcanon - and turned me on to some great music

I’m actually gonna just declare this section unfinished for now - I need to revisit these and remind myself what’s what - stay tuned!

Illustrated

Since you liked HoD you might be looking for more comic-y stuff with art. Definitely check out @chthonicarcher’s amazing davekats! Such as That’s All We Are

Dream a Little Dream of Me by koroke - this is just a little dream bubble comic but it’s simply the loveliest and I’m massively envious of the art style

Gonna Need Some Windex by the End of the Year by magniloquentChanteuse - more artistic storytelling just neat!

It’s About Time by @laurasauras - this is a sweet cute lovely little time travel davekat that I actually sent to a friend to read who knew nothing about HS and successfully led them into the fandom. (Followed by AU by Unda). Laurasauras is prolific and there are so many great fics written by them I can’t list them all here but they are one of my absolute favorite authors. Their understanding of the strider psyche is absolutely impeccable

The Worst Goddamn Movies Ever Fucking Made by writerbot - this fic brought me so much hilarity and joy I can’t even tell you. The Karkat voice is perfect and delightful and the social media interludes are so fucking funny and impressive. One of the first fics to show me how creative and funny this fandom can be.

I’m surely going to add to this - there are so many more meteorstucks and other authors I know I’ll think of after I post this - but I don’t want to spend too much longer on this now when you could be reading some of this great stuff! ENJOY!!

#homestuck fanfics #homestuck #davekat #fanfic recs #fan fiction

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zzzzzestforlife · 1 month

Text

🌤️ refreshing + renewing activity ideas 🌻

left: finally caved and started habitica a while back — it's basically my cuter to-do list now 🤷‍♀️ right: i'm so good at 반말 (casual speech) thanks to all the k-content i consume 😎

I completed Habitica's March Self-Care Challenge (in the last possible week 😅) and one of the prompts was to make a list of things that ✨refresh and renew✨ you. After keeping track of this list mentally for some time, it was so nice to finally write it all down and realize how much support I have simply from my own actions and from where I choose to direct my focus! Highly recommend these activities and if you have any recommendations that help you gain energy, please share them with me too!! 🙏💕

Go to Sleep

i'm totally serious, i'm not just saying this because my entire blog was founded on my love for sleep

easy, low-effort

everything is better when you're well-rested

being unconscious and unaware is the situation to be in for least possible stress

Exercise

ok, the complete opposite end of the spectrum, but it's connected when you remember that physical activity while awake leads to better sleep!

eliminates/prevents chronic pain issues (learned from personal experience, unfortunately)

you feel like That Girl™️

if you like the feeling of accomplishment and progress, this one's for you because ENDORPHINS, BABY!!

Watch a Comfort Show

bonus if it's a comedy — laughter does SO much for your psyche

again, easy, low-effort

set a binge limit though because even if you have nothing else planned for the day your body WILL complain and you WILL feel like trash if you go more than ~3-4 hours

Go for a Walk

bonus if it's in nature/outdoors because exposure to sunlight cues your body to make you sleepy later at night

easy, low-effort (can you tell i'm partial to activities of this variety)

eliminates/prevents chronic pain issues!!!

Listen to your Favorite Music

have a dance party!!

sing (or lip sync) along!!

while cleaning

while commuting

while cooking (just be careful not to get too into it and burn something... or yourself...)

Get into Flow State

this doesn't necessarily mean doing something typically "creative"

you can get into a flow state when doing ANYTHING if you're able to lose awareness of yourself/time while doing it!!

which is usually why doing something you enjoy and that requires higher-level cognition (i.e. a creative hobby) gets you there

BUT you can also achieve it more "passively," for example, reading a good book or learning about something your passionate about (personally something highly open-ended works best, e.g. you can just keep learning languages forever and ever)

💌: i had way more items in my list, but these have been the most reliable ones from my experience, and you deserve the best! ❣️ until next time, take care, lovelies 💐

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run2yew · 1 year

Text

Frustrated.

Pairing: Han Jisung /Female reader

Genre: romance, suggestive, smut (minors dni), best friends to lovers au

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: swearing, oral (male rec), making out, semi public (??)

Summary: "You want me to help?."

"I told you, you don't have to. I'll figure something out."

"No, like, right now. Do you want me to help?"

He stops, batting his eyelashes in shock.

"What the fuck are you talking about?."

You shouldn't do this, but right now, you're not sure if you're thinking with your brain at all. And that's probably why you get on your knees, spinning his chair to face you. Your face leveling with his core.

✵

hanji <3: come pick me up im scared

you: did I ask?

hanji <3: do you HAVE to be mean w me even when im struggling :((?

you: yes, and you like it

you: what happened to my favorite brat?

hanji <3: you know what time I got here? 6AM

hanji <3: my last meal was LUNCH

hanji <3: it's MIDNIGHT AND NO DINNER YET

hanji <3: im so fucking hungry and tired I might go insane

you: are you trying to die??

you: seriously, just tell me and I'll do it for you, no need to starve!!!

hanji <3: very funny

hanji <3: we can't go out to eat rn and I don't wanna eat the company food 😭

hanji <3: stupid changbin with his stupid pork craving now I want pork :/

you: im sorry, wish I could do something to help :((

hanji <3: you're bearing me, that's nice

hanji <3: plus, it's not like you could bring me food or anything lol

you: yeah

you: you'll be fine though, we'll have pork on the weekend, I'll pay!

✵

"What are you doing here?." Jisung asks, suddenly getting up from where he was sitting. His brows arching as he blinked slowly in your direction, although you didn't miss the way his lips curled up slightly.

"I bought food." You simply put, leveling the food bags with your face and beaming before closing the door behind you.

You turn back to meet his eyes again, bowing to his friends in the process.

It was late, and you couldn't help but feel bad when Jisung texted you. Admitting he was exhausted, rambling about how he couldn't stop to get some food and how the song was turning out great but they couldn't risk cutting the flow.

Jisung and the guys are hardworking, and even though you appreciate their art, it's not fair to their own bodies to ignore what they're feeling.

So you had a brilliant idea: randomly showing up with food.

It was a bold move, of course, but if you wanted to do something nice for him you'd have to go for it. He'd do the same for you.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, I just..." Your eyes shift to the smiling ChangBin lazily placed on the studio couch, legs thrown over a chair relaxedly, leaning in like he wants you to keep talking.

"Jisung told me you guys were hungry and tired, so you know...couldn't fix the tired. The hungry was the next thing on my list." You chuckle nervously, finishing with a shrug.

"Please, you're not interrupting us, you're doing us a favor" Changbin points as he straightens his back on the couch, restraining his legs from where they were placed.

"An amazing favor, actually. Thank you." Chan adds, eyes softening, and you can't help but give him a smile back, which he gladly returns with a small wink that makes you chuckle.

"Don't worry though, I'm just going to drop this off and go back. I don't mean to bother, just wanted to help."

Chan immediately stands up, vigorously shaking his head in denial, reaching for your hands as he takes the bags from you and puts them on the small coffee table in front of him. "No, no, no, no, no. Come on, you're staying and eating with us!."

"Chan, it's fine, really. I don't want to come in between your creative process. I'm already doing too much by having this conversation." You insist.

"Stay." Jisung's voice is assertive, a bit demanding even, and it echoes as the room grows silent, that's when you realize the effect that the acoustics of the place have on your conversation, and it's also when you realize he hasn't said a word this whole time.

"I can't just let you leave like that," He continues, crossing his arms in front of his chest and taking another step forward to meet you. "Eat with us and chill for a bit."

"The whole point of me coming here was to not interrupt-"

"You're staying. End of story" He states, waving his index finger warningly, "And you're eating."

You try to protest, whining in response, but you have no luck convincing him. He grabs you by the shoulders and guides you to the empty seat next to Changbin on the couch, plopping you there and mumbling a small "sit" when you try to get back up.

What are you? A dog?.

"So, what did you get?." The guy next to you asks, leaning forward, trying make out what was inside the bag, but by the way he was smiling, you assumed he already knew.

"Samgyeopsal."

Changbin lets out a yelp, quickly shifting in his seat to face you, you can sense his mood lifting as he smiles so brightly it reaches his eyes, almost jumping from the words you said. Jisung was right, the man really loved food.

"You're joking..." He shakily trails off.

"Nope," you chuckle. "You were craving it. It'd be mean not to get it."

"Oh my God Sungie! I Iove you, I love you, I love you." Changbin sing-songs, standing up to chase the younger boy that fails to escape from his embrace, rolling his eyes at the display of affection.

"And you," he reaches out his hand for a high five that you happily return, "Thank you. I'm sure we'll be great friends."

I'm sure we will." You try your best to sound nonchalant, nodding before deciding to open up for a hug. Sensing that's what he wanted to do in the first place, Changbin gladly takes the request and wraps you in his - insanely strong?- embrace.

When you try to pull away, he spins you, lifts you up and adds another "Thank you.", Your attempt to break free with is unless, laughing until Chan pulls you away from him.

Gosh, it was hard to keep a neutral expression around these guys, pretty soon your cheeks were going to hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn't help it, how are you supposed to keep it together?.

You turn to face Jisung to tell him to eat, only to be met with his eyes already on you, his expression completely neutral, his arms still crossed. You wonder if something's wrong.

You give him an upside down smile, squinting your nose playfully, which he returns with a roll of the eyes, followed by a small chuckle.

He's probably just tired.

"You guys should eat before it gets cold." You say.

Chan nods, opening the bags and placing the food on the table, organizing everything however he felt like it. Jisung offered to help, and while he organized the cups on the table, you started taking in his presence.

Jisung looked different today, but you couldn't quite place exactly what had changed in the last two weeks since you last saw him. You wonder if it's the hair, parted in the middle, falling on his eyes every now and then. But when he rolls up the sleeves of his black hoodie, exposing his strong arms and veiny hands, causing you to gulp, you realize that's probably not it.

Doesn't matter.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't feel a small plate being placed on your legs by your best friend, you also don't realize you've been spacing out until a gentle squeeze is delivered to your knee.

Jisung stands by your side, completely oblivious to where your mind was wandering, as he hands you chopsticks.

He takes a second to push his hair out of his face, a failed attempt since little strands fall back onto his eyes.

His hair's really long.

And it looks really soft.

Regardless, you force yourself to look at him in the eyes, too afraid he'd catch what you were thinking if you didn't.

"Thanks Ji."

He chuckles, nudging your shoulder lightly, "Always."

You breathe out, hyperfocusing on the way his eyes stay on yours for just a bit longer than usual.

Shit.

What the fuck is going on?

"My God, this food is hitting, I feel like I'm going to ascend to heaven." Changbin whines contentedly, pushing your attention away from your inner conflict.

Chan, who's now sitting by his side, rolls his eyes, "You say that about everything we eat."

"It's true, though!." He takes another big bite, nearly whimpering at the taste of the food.

"Can you not moan while we're trying to eat?." Jisung groans in annoyance and you laugh at their antics. It's nice to see people so comfortable with each other, it's nice to see your friend in a different element. You're happy they're enjoying the food you bought.

Jisung scoots closer to you, your shoulders barely touching, but it's enough to make your breath catch, and you hate it. He's done this to you a million times.

"Yo, try this." He holds a spoon to your face, pouting when you take a second or two to analyze the food combination before taking his wrist and moving the spoon to your mouth.

He beams, watching you gleefully munch on the delicious food, licking your lips afterwards, leaving out a soft hum. "Oh my God this is life changing." You speak, eyes widening.

"I know, right?." He snorts, taking another piece from your favorite part of the meat and moving it to your plate, a simple but attentive act.

Suddenly, he stops mid-eating and moves back to stare at your face, like he's searching for something. You tilt your head in confusion, letting your gaze follow his.

"Wait," He moves his free hand to hold your face, pulling you closer to him by your cheeks.

You're not sure what makes you so warm, he's not even holding you tightly, but just the slightest bit of pressure on both of your cheeks makes you grow warm.

"What are you doing?" You whine, trying to get away from him, struggling to hide the way your heart pounds.

"Stay still!." He demands, brushing his thumb over the corner of your mouth and wiping what seemed to be sauce from the food he previously fed you with it.

You blink, gaze shifting everywhere but his face, a new feeling begins at the pit of your stomach and ends right in between your legs. You have to gather all that's within you to try and form a steady answer. "I- uh, thank you, Ji."

Jisung though, is completely unbothered, batting his eyes as he takes his thumb coated with the small bit of sauce and props it onto his mouth, leaving a low hum at the taste, eyes still on you when he releases it with a pop. "No problem."

You clear your throat, left to face the table in front of you.

Except you can't concentrate because, holy shit.

That was hot.

Like, really hot.

Jisung's hot.

Wait, you think Jisung's hot?.

Oh fuck.

✵

"You have to chill." You mutter to yourself, pacing left to right inside the bathroom, trying to get a hold on when your mind started going where it did.

You take another look at yourself in the mirror, contemplating whether you should splash some water on your face to wake the fuck up or not.

You tried, you tried to forget what happened, but it feels like the thought is always there, on the back of your head, chasing you, haunting you.

It's been 30 minutes since the little "incident" with Jisung, and since then, you can't fucking concentrate on anything. Chan told you to stay with them for a while, to vibe with them, to keep them company, and Jisung and Changbin didn't oppose the idea, so you agreed. Now, you regret it completely.

You're having the most difficult time of your life, you can only think about Jisung. With his plump, red lips that seemed—oh, so soft - wrapped around his thumb, tongue swirling around to lick the remains of sauce from his callused finger, his eyes locked on yours throughout the whole process.

You squeeze your eyes shut again, taking a deep breath.

It's too much.

How can such a small action rent a fucking triplex on your brain like that? Just the imaginative sight of him, grabbing on your face like that, so delicately yet so possessively...

No.

You have to stop.

You're imagining things.

What the fuck are you doing?. This is Jisung you're talking about, your best friend Jisung.

Pull yourself together.

It's your hormones, maybe you're ovulating. You have to be.

You can't let it get the best of you, not now.

Not when you're about to leave this bathroom and see him.

Inhaling deeply, you force yourself out of the room, attempting to get this over with quickly.

"Just an hour, an hour and I can leave." You tell yourself.

✵

"I need a break or I'm going to LOSE MY MIND." Changbin exclaims, stretching his body as he gets up from the chair.

"You're so dramatic, it's been like an hour since our last break." Jisung responds, still focused on the screen in front of him.

"Two hours." The other corrects.

Yeah well, the plan of staying just an hour didn't work that well, time went by quicker than it should and that couch was far too comfortable for you to dismiss it, especially after eating.

"Maybe it's time for some ice cream?." You ask.

"I'd kill for that." Jisung adds.

"I can get some, you guys keep with the work. You want more water?."

"No, no, no, you already got us food it's unfair." Chan refutes, "I'll go."

"But-"

"Don't worry, Changbin gets all whiny if we don't have at least one break, and I don't know if I can deal with him tonight without going the strangling route." He jokes, earning a nice laugh from you and Jisung. "it'd be good for us.

"You sure?."

"Yeah, yeah you can stay with Jisung while he finishes off his part. Tell him off if he gets too distracted." Chan winks.

"You good with that?." You ask Jisung.

"As if I have a choice." He puts, ironically.

"We should be back in a a while. What flavor do you want?." He asks you.

"Strawberry." Jisung answers for you, his hand moving to hug your waist sneakily.

Your heart does the thing again.

Of course he knows your favorite ice cream flavor, he's your best friend.

And it's not like he's never hugged you before.

"I should get my wallet."

"Are you insane? You're not paying!." Jisung squeezes your waist.

"Shut up, I want to."

"Too bad." Jisung gives Chan his card, and the older boy shrugs whispering a "sorry" to you as he takes the card.

✵

Jisung gives you a smile, then turns back to the computer, slowly going over what he was doing.

You're still on the couch, but you decide to move to where Chan was sitting, in the chair by his left side.

Slowly, you watch him do whatever he's doing, huge headphones covering his ears as he skillfully works. You wish you understood at least a little about music production.

However, watching him work was always entertaining to you, and now that you're alone and you can see him properly, it's even better.

"You're really good at this." You whisper, resting your head against his shoulder, careful not to disturb him and making sure he can still move his hand with ease.

Jisung jolts a bit, and you chuckle, watching him take the headphones off.

"What are you doing?."

"I missed you."

You did. This was the first time you saw Jisung in two weeks, and physical touch being one of your love languages definitely didn't help with the absence of him. You didn't want to go overboard when the guys were there, afraid you'd make him (or them) uncomfortable or disturb their work. So you kept it light: a leg thrown over his while you were eating, occasionally getting up and reassuringly rubbing his shoulders to ease the tension.

But now, you're alone, and you can express just how much you missed him.

"I missed you too, pretty." He pats your head and scrunches his nose, "Once I have the time, I'm spending the night at yours for a week straight. Prepare to be sick of me."

"Like is hard." You shrug.

"If it's so easy then why are you all over me right now?." He narrows his eyes, eyeing your other hand that placed on his lower thigh.

"You're so annoying." You yank your hand away, surprised by your own action, convinced you did it subconsciously just to support yourself in the position you were in.

He lets out a sincere laugh and puts his headphones on, shoving your head back to where it was. When you whine, he simply gives you a pat on the head and focuses back on the screen.

Asshole.

You really missed him.

You go back to watching him, moving the hand that was on his tight to his upper arm, rubbing soothing circles on the skin to keep you from thinking.

It didn't work for long though, soon your mind betrayed you once again, and you were caught thinking about how big his arm was. You know he's hitting the gym, but lord, did he get even bigger with just two weeks? That's not possible, is it?.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you move your hand, realizing he's not typing on the keyboard anymore. So you take his hand and place it on yours, interlocking your fingers in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You stay like that for a while, playing with his rings, trying not to hyperfocus on his fingers, cursing yourself internally for being a pervert in such a sweet interaction, a time you have with your friend after weeks.

"I can't focus." He says, almost throwing the headphones over the computer. You jump, not expecting the sudden action.

"Is everything okay?." You move away from him, trying to read his expressions. "Did I do something? I can sit back on the couch if that's the problem..."

"No, no, no, no." He says almost immediately, barely letting you finish speaking, grabbing your hand and squeezing to reassure you. "I'm just..." He sighs, "So fucking frustrated. I'm working a lot. It's difficult for me to work so many hours like Chan and Bin, plus I'm not like them, I-"

He stops, mouth open as if he's pondering what to say before sealing his lips again.

"What?."

"It's stupid." He disregards, shaking his hand while staring at his own feet.

"Ji, if it's bothering you, then it can't be stupid." You affirm.

"It's weird, talking to you about these things. Trust me."

"Come on, we've talked about pretty much everything, nothing you say can be weirder than what I've already heard from you." You joke, and he lets out a single scuff, enough to feel like you're easing him in.

"Fine."

"Say it."

"I'm really worked up-"

"Already know that, and I told you to at least try to get some rest-"

"I'm not done." He adds, tone dropping lower while you try to dismiss the sudden wave of warmth that courses through you.

"Sorry."

"I'm so fucking frustrated, in anyway you can think of. And it's not like I can relieve myself like Changbin and Chan do with their girlfriends, part of me feels like I just need to have a proper release. But lately, I haven't been able to do that." He sighs, moving his hands to his face, covering his eyes. "I love music and I love working, but all I've been doing lately is focusing on music all day, I can't even see you anymore..."

"Oh..."

"Also, you're here, touching me like this, in the most innocent way, and I can't help but... anyway- it's not really helping..." He admits, but then immediately snaps a hand over his mouth in shock.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said it that, God, this is stupid, I'm just so-"

"Horny?." You lift your eyebrow in question.

"And tired." he adds.

"Well, I could... find someone for you?" I have some friends that-"

"No. Just forget it." He sighs, shifting in his seat, and getting ready to put the headphones back.

You stop him.

"Do you want me to help?."

"I told you, you don't have to. I'll figure something out."

"No, like, right now. Do you want me to help?."

"What the fuck are you talking about?."

You shouldn't do this, but right now, you're not sure if you're thinking with your brain at all, and that's probably why you get on your knees, spinning his chair to face you. Your face leveling with his core.

"I can't stand watching you suffer. I want to help." The proposition lingers, and you panic, afraid you're about to get rejected, scared he might not be interested in you in that way. "As a friend."

"You do?."

"Yeah, if you want me to."

"I do - fuck, yeah I do. But are you sure?."

You nod. Running your hands all over his thighs, he must've been really worked up, he's already out of breath from a simple touch, and you haven't even touched to his dick yet.

This could be fun.

At least for a moment, you can have him, without actually having him.

"How much time do we have?."

He glances at the computer, then turns to you disappointed.

"Like twenty minutes." He pouts.

"That's more than enough, Ji." You chuckle, "Should I remind you to be quiet?."

"Maybe, yeah." It comes out more as a breathy exhale than a sentence, and you laugh.

You begin by slowly rubbing him over his pants, Jisung immediately grips the sides of the chair tightly.

"Relax for me, hm?." You say. You don't want him to feel like he has to do this in any way, and you also don't want him to feel pressured or nervous about it. You're just helping him out.

"It's hard to..."

"I got you. You're with me now."

Without a warning, you zip down his black washed jeans, skillfully pulling them down to his knees. He looks huge already, and he's incredibly hard over his underwear too, what a sight.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He whines impatiently, and you take the chance to finally free him from his boxers.

Oh my God, he's big.

Bigger than you expected.

You give him a stroke or two, staring directly into his eyes, and you watch the way his whole body jolts, leaning into your touch. You smile, so horny you can't bother to be shy, wanting to be so good at this that he falls in love with you.

Just like you fell for him.

Cockily, you begin to slowly kitten lick his tip, before swirling your tongue around his member saliva pilling on your mouth, just enough to make everything nice and wet, enough to make him let the sweetest groan fall from his lips.

You take a deep breath and bring him into your mouth, making sure to relax and feel him around your lips, savoring the chance of being with him.

It feels so good to have Jisung like this.

A moan leaves your mouth the second he hits the back of your throat, that's when you pull back a little and get into sucking him, rubbing your thighs together, dying for some friction.

"H-Holy fuck, it feels so fucking good."

The way you're bobbing your head is driving him crazy, and the confirmation comes with how he's moaning so loudly , it has you reaching out for your clothed core and rubbing soft circles against your clit in a second - Not the way you want to relieve yourself, but I'd have to do it for now.

You've heard about how loud Jisung can get in every drunk late night talks you have with the guys — 'he's so loud we can hear him even when he's alone'

But this, being the one and only reason for these sweet sounds, felt much different.

You bring his balls into your hands, cupping and massaging his base, giving your mouth a second to rest.

When you put him on your mouth again, his eyes are already rolling to the back of his head, chest rising and falling rapidly, and mouth agape. You dig your fingers into his inner thighs, scratching the flesh, leaving pretty marks all over him, then move to do the same with his torso.

It seems to rile him up even further, considering he begins to quite literally fuck your mouth, fingers gathering your hair to move your head along with his hips.

You can't let him forget who's in charge, though.

So you push his hips down with all the strength you have and remove your mouth from him completely.

Jisung whines—almost screams, actually—from the loss of contact, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Don't be impolite, Jisung, I'm helping you." You joke, licking your lips.

"I know baby but I'm so close." He argues, breathless.

It's just a pet name

He's just desperate

He does not mean that.

"Either you let me do whatever I want, or I'll leave you here." You say.

"Jesus Christ, have you always been like this?."

You nod, "Can I get back to it?."

"Please."

Just to tease him, you don't put him in your mouth right away. You lick all over his balls, tracing your tongue against the base of his cock, never quite reaching the tip, feeling his body tense all over again, listening to his whimpers get louder and louder, before wrapping your lips around him once more. You're getting right back on track.

That's when your phone rings.

You roll your eyes, and Jisung groans in annoyance. Luckily, your phone isn't out of reach, right on your back pocket, so you can grab without stopping what you're doing.

Until you see who's calling.

"It's Chan." You mumble, detaching your mouth from him. You clear your throat in an attempt to sound normal, looking over to Jisung to gesture a small "shh."

"Hey Chan, what's up?" You say, while evilly pecking Jisung's sensitive head, he squirms, hand flying over his mouth to muffle the sounds while you silently chuckle.

"Hey, we just got to the store because Changbin kept refusing to walk faster. I called to say there's no strawberry ice cream left. Any other flavor you'd want?.

Pouting, you answer, "Aww, that's too bad. Just bring me vanilla instead then."

You're pretty convincing. You're sure no one could tell you're licking a long stripe over your best friend's dick right now.

Chan talks about something else you can't quite focus on, and you take the moment he's blabbing to take Jisung deep into your throat, careful not to make any suspicious sounds.

Not a good idea in the slightest, Jisung moans loudly, the hand over his mouth doing absolutely nothing to shut him up.

"Everything okay?." Chan asks.

You quickly take Jisung out of your mouth, saliva dripping down your chin in the most pornographic way possible. The man in front of you looks like he's going insane, tightly gripping the handles of the chair and staring at the trail of saliva. He's probably like this because he's been pent up, you argue, but it's undeniably satisfying to see him enjoy this so much. Going crazy over you.

"You there?." Chan asks.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Everything's fine, Jisung almost fell of his chair here." You force out a chuckle.

Chan lets out a laugh, but you can tell he's suspicious, and you silently curse Jisung for that.

"Okay cool, we'll be back in twenty, maybe thirty if Changbin keeps trying to buy every snack he encounters. Wait- Bin we have chips at home!. I should go." With that Chan hangs up.

You laugh, watching Jisung's eyes prick with tears as you painfully tease him.

"What? We have time." You say.

"Y-you're so mean."

"Oh, am I?"

He nods and says, "I would've never pegged you as that type."

"Eh, it depends on the mood."

"And what's today's mood?"

"Making you cum so hard you forget your own name."

"If you keep saying shit like that, I might cum untouched."

"Let's leave that for some other time."

At this point Jisung is a complete goner, he was already so close, so when you suddenly decide to go full out on him; messy, intense, delicious, it drives him insane. You look up to find him looking at you with so much desire while still struggling to keep his eyes open, you can see him fight the internally against the need to close his eyes, just to watch you. Probably the hottest thing you've ever seen.

"Fuck yeah, shit just like t-that..." His head is entirely thrown back now, his back arches and he reaches for your hair to pull on the strands again, you moan, a bit louder than you intended too as it gets harder to keep it together.

He groans, again and again, and you're pretty sure you've learned everything he likes by now because he's so fucking responsive, hips stuttering to your every touch, whimpers coming out whenever you tease him...you want more.

But this is all you can have.

Every sound that comes out of him just builds and builds and it doesn't take too long for him to turn into a whimpering, moaning mess, calling your name and all sinful things you've wanted to hear for so long.

"I-fuck I'm so close."

"Yeah? You're gonna cum for me Ji?." You ask, jerking him off a few times to rest your mouth before taking him in again. "I want you to do it on my mouth, I want to taste you Ji, please."

Jisung comes with one loud, dragged out moan that's music to your ears. He moves from your hair to your shoulder, gripping tightly at the skin.

"Holy fucking shit..."

He shoots so much into your mouth is hard to gather, but you make it a mission to swallow every single bit of him, making sure to lick him clean afterwards, only stopping when he cutely pushes your head away, overstimulated.

"E-enough, please..." He pleads.

You laugh, giving his tip an extra peck, before pulling his pants back up.

Silence fills the room, his eyes are still shut while you're resting infront of him, knees hurting and mouth already starting to feel sore. Jisung opens his eyes and you shyly smile, a wave of embarrassment hits you when you realized you've showed him a side of you he hasn't seen yet.

"So, you're freaky like that huh?." He asks, leaning in to meet your, face. "All this in the studio?"

"Shut up." You laugh.

"Come here." He taps his thigh with his palm, signing for you to sit on his lap. You think, once, twice, then comply to his wish, making yourself comfortable, yet awkwardness doesn't fail to rest inside of you.

You wait for him to speak, but no response. Instead, Jisung begins to deliver slow open mouth kisses on your neck, you sigh when he brushes his tongue right on the sweet spot you love so much, and hiss when he begins sucking and biting there.

He lets go of your neck to bring your face closer to his, staring directly into what felt to be your soul.

Jisung wastes no time in kissing you, testing every part of your mouth in such a particular way, exploring you like you're full of possibilities. His tongue works so perfectly with yours it has you squirming

When he pulls away, he's met with your love drunk face, staring right back with a smile.

"Oh my fucking God." You grin and he follows, shaking his head.

"We just kissed."

"After I sucked you off."

"Nice reminder." He slaps your thigh jokingly.

"So..."

"Yes?."

"I know the order is mess up especially after all this time of being friends, I'm definitely supposed to take you out and then you suck me off, but... would you still be up for a date?"

Your heart skips a beat the moment he finishes his sentence, still incredulous that this is actually happening.

"Sure." Is all you can manage to answer back.

"But promise me, it won't fuck up or friendship-"

"Jisung." You stop him, "Don't worry about it." You add, kissing his temple. "We'll make it work."

"We will." He afirms.

"Now that we got that out of the way..." Jisung's hand that's been resting on your thigh goes higher, it sends shivers down your spine. You're already so wet from the whole situation alone, it's unreal that you're gonna get to feel him touch you, after all this time.

When he reaches where you want him the most, and begins to apply pressure right on your clit, all you can think about is one thing:

You're a fucking genius for wearing a skirt today.

But you're interrupted by the loud sound of the studio door opening. Jisung's hand flies away from you and you quickly jump from his lap in an inhuman speed.

"We're back!." Changbin says before entering the room, Chan following him right after.

"Yeah, we can see you." Jisung rolls his eyes, turning his chair back to the laptop, like absolutely nothing happened. He easily wears the most cynical and hypocrite look to ever exist.

It's kinda hot

"I should eat your ice cream for the attitude." Changbin says, throwing the bag on the table.

"You okay?." Chan asks, looking at your currently state, your hair is not as messy as it was a few minutes ago, but the way your skirt has ridden up is definitely suspicious.

"I- yeah, I'm good. I think I'm going to head home though..."

"What about the ice cream?."

"I'll just have it on the way." You say, putting on your best smile and gathering your stuff.

"You fucked didn't you?." It leaves Changbin's mouth like it's nothing, a simple question he delivers while eating his ice cream.

"Huh? No!. What makes you think that?." Jisung asks.

But his smile gives everything away.

✹

hanji <3: hey lol

you: what do you want?

hanji <3: what do you mean 'what do you want'?? cant i just say hey to my girlfriend?

you: its 11pm and you texted 'hey lol', something has to be up

hanji <3: fine.

hanji <3 : im working on this song, nothing much, just a sample for myself, was wondering if you'd want to be on the backing vocals

you: you have to be kidding me

you: you cant possibly know me for so long and not know I cant sing for the life of me

hanji <3: well that isn't exactly what I want to record

hanji <3: there wouldn't be much singing...

you: what?

hanji <3: ;)

you: oh?

you: OH

you: HAN JISUNG

hanji <3: are you down or nah?

you: be there in 10.

•

If you enjoyed this don't forget to reblog it with your feedback, it means the world to me and I'd really appreciate it! Feel free to send me an anon or ask me anything, I'm always open. Don't forget to be kind <33

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starstruckkittensweets · 6 months

Text

chapter one

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader Words: 6.2k

A/N: The first chapter of my lil Dabi passion project. Partially inspired by "Haunting Adeline" (awesome book but PLEASE heed the warnings in it). The full list of warnings is included in the main masterlist, but individual ones will be posted at the beginning of each chapter. Also this is my first time writing from both Reader and Dabi's perspective, so I hope it's not too bad. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only (minors DNI), explicit language, mentions of arson, mentions of violence, stalking, breaking and entering, working in retail (I'm sorry), Reader lives in a cute lil house in the middle of the woods, Reader also has 3 plushies (that all have names, because I'm a dork)

"Kerosene and Butterflies" Masterlist

It’s raining again, for the fourth day in a row. Barely any light to work with at the little workspace you’ve made for yourself at the kitchen table. So instead you rest your hands on your arms, watching the rain patter against the window panes. Pen and paper pushed away and left forgotten on the surface.

Rain always makes you feel nice. Not happy or sad, just nice. Gives you something to look at, the sound mindless enough to put you at ease. Soft and warm, more often than not lulling you to sleep with its voice. It’s hard to explain, but it seems to make sense in your mind.

Your phone lights up on the table with a text. It’s your mother again, sending her weekly check-in text. Even though you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and living on your own. But it’s more for her than you; you think it helps her cope with one of her kids living abroad, so far out of her reach.

Well, that’s what enticed you about this house in the first place, but you’ll never tell her that.

With a yawn you grab your phone and send a quick reply. Yes you’re okay, you’re getting enough sleep, you miss her home cooked meals. Call her tomorrow, put her mind at ease. Buy another few days of freedom before the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

When you finish and place your phone back down, you give the paper and pen one last look. Maybe you could try one more time, see if anything comes to mind?

Your chest deflates at the thought. No, the spark is long gone. Try again a different day, get some sleep for now. You need it.

You can almost hear it laughing at you, the uncapped pen lying dangerously close to its blank skin. You’ve been hearing it for the last hour or so, wracking your brain to come up with something, anything. Words, ideas, or even bullet points you can just jot down in your chicken scratch handwriting. Just a sliver of something to get those creative juices flowing.

But your eyelids are already drooping, the rainy weather not helping you one bit. Your brain feels like it’s all dried up, giving you a never-ending headache. Telling you that you’ve already reached your peak; that nothing else you make will ever come close to how you want it to come out.

Oh well. Tomorrow’s another day, right?

But you know damn well you’ll be back to square one tomorrow night, when you get home from work. Staring at that blank page with your head in your hands, praying for the words to come. For the inspiration to strike—to make you feel anything other than this.

At least the paper’s still good, maybe you can use it for a shopping list later in the week. That way it’ll get some good use out of it.

Your job isn’t exactly the flashiest; definitely not what you envisioned yourself doing at twenty-four years old. Working at a dead-end department store in the shady part of town, along with four or five other people—and none of them are close to you in age. But it keeps the bills paid and food in your fridge, so you guess it’s not as bad as it could be. You could do without the annoying entitled customers, though.

At least your shift stretches into the latter half of the day, meaning you only have to deal with them for about four hours, five tops if you end up taking your lunch break late. Then the store closes, the customers are ushered out, and you spend the rest of your time stocking the shelves and getting ready for the next busy day.

Most nights the store’s already empty, with only a handful of customers roaming the aisles. That gives you some extra time to start stocking; you prefer putting stuff back on the shelves rather than ringing on register anyways. Register gets boring and repetitive fast, but working on the floor always gives you something new to do.

“Excuse me, where can I find the laundry detergent?”

“Down the next aisle and to your left, all the way down at number twenty-four.”

“Where’s the soup and all the instant meals?”

“Right over here actually, on the middle shelf.”

“You have any beer?”

“Last aisle down, all the way to the end. You’ll see the freezer straight ahead.”

Every interaction gives you a rush of excitement, as sad as it sounds. In all honesty, your job isn’t the complete worst. Most customers are fine and even pleasant to deal with, and it always makes you feel good when you’re able to help them find something on their lists. Besides, it tests your knowledge of the store, almost like a matching game; after three years of working in the same place, you pretty much know it like the back of your hand.

Tonight seems like one of those lazy nights, with only a couple customers roaming through the aisles, the lone cashier at the registers looking like he’s about to fall asleep. You’re sorting through the grocery bin at the front (either what customers decided they didn’t want, or items found randomly throughout the store). There’s quite a bit today, must’ve been pretty busy earlier in the day.

It doesn’t take long to put the shelf-ready stuff into a cart and trek down to the grocery section. Most of it is candy anyways, which is in the first couple aisles. One item after another, until you start to see the bottom of the cart.

You step back from the shelf, a handful of candy bars clenched between your fingers, when your back suddenly collides into something—or someone, judging by the grunt they let out.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean that, I should really watch where I’m going, I’m really sorry about that—”

The words die right there on your tongue as you glance up at the person. You can barely see his face behind the dark mask over his mouth and his hood pulled over his hair. But something catches your eye—something dark and heavy beneath his eyes.

He’s got some serious bags under his eyes, poor guy must be working himself to death. Must be a college student, you know how it feels.

Wait a minute…bags?

Your head begins to buzz. You don’t think you’ve ever seen bags bad enough to leave the skin so…wrinkled. Almost like they’re—

But he’s already walking away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Head hanging low and shoulders tense as he disappears down the next aisle.

It’s not until another customer asks you where the hand soap is, that you remember to blink—and breathe. It takes a bit of effort, but you manage to give them the right aisle across the store. But then you’re staring off into space once more, thinking about the strange person in the black hoodie and mask.

Dark patches under his eyes… Could it really be…?

No way, stop thinking like that. You know where your mind is going, don’t you dare entertain the thought.

You shake your head. You’re being ridiculous. It’s getting late, anyway. You didn’t get that much sleep last night to begin with, it’s early to bed when you get home later tonight.

You file the last of the candy in its proper home on the shelf before heading down the main path towards the registers. Pet food, paper goods, detergent, body wash… A couple aisles here and there for every department. You should check and see if there’s any chemicals up front that need to go back on the shelf. Probably the easiest department for you to handle, other than food and appliances—

Your jaw drops when you turn the corner and come face-to-face with the dark stranger from earlier. Staring down at you with those dark eyes—no, the patches are dark, his eyes are actually quite bright, and oh my fucking God they’re blue—

There’s something sticking out of his pocket—the red and white label of a box of Band-Aids. And that’s not the only thing in there, judging by the awkward bulges and pointy corners. Maybe some extra medicine or painkillers.

You glance back up at him. Neither of you make any move to leave.

“…I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. All you can think about is how this little corner of the store lacks any functioning security cameras, and how it’s probably only a few dollars, it won’t necessarily put the store out of business if he gets away with it. Just this one time. No one has to know, except the two of you.

He’s glaring now, probably curling his lip at you from behind the mask. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, your heart throbbing furiously against your ribcage.

“Can…I get you anything else?”

“Fuck off.”

He shoves his way past you, shoulder nearly knocking you on your ass. Your throat runs dry as his words echo in your ears, his voice sending chills down your spine.

You know him, but from where? You know his voice, his looks—but why can’t you remember him?

You glance over your shoulder but he’s already gone, most likely heading towards the exit. Not like you’re gonna stop him.

Still, you can’t get your little encounter out of your mind, even as you try to busy yourself with your work. Not even ten minutes pass by before you grab another box of bandages and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, mumbling to your coworker, “Store use, I’ll claim it out when I get back,” all the while feigning injury as you cradle your wrist against your chest (where a small pack of cotton balls is pressed between your fingers).

The back of the store leads out to the dumpsters in the back alley. A prime spot for smoke breaks, despite smelling like absolute crap. Chalk marks and spray paint decorating the walls, trash bags spilling out of the dumpsters in the corner. You clutch the supplies to your chest, head swinging wildly in search of the stranger.

But there’s no one out there. He’s gone for good this time—and for some reason, you can’t explain the sudden ache in your chest.

You don’t know what makes you leave the bandages and alcohol in the corner of the alley, hidden by the shadow of the dumpsters. Or why there’s a pang in the pit of your stomach, as you remember how bright his blue eyes looked.

Here’s a tip for any aspiring writers out there: get comfortable with constantly going on the internet. Whether it’s looking for an obscure random fact about Victorian houses in the 1800s or learning just how long it takes to recover from a bullet wound in the shoulder, search engines like Google will become your best friend. It won’t always provide the most accurate information, but it’s a start to get the ball rolling.

But this particular search doesn’t stem from a story in your drafts; all you can see are those mysterious blue eyes from the store, and the dark wrinkled patches beneath them.

It doesn’t take long at all to find your answer: a thread of articles and blurry photos of the infamous League of Villains—the same ones that have been terrorizing the country for the past year or so. Casualties, crimes, and even past victims. Every word brings another wave of goosebumps, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

Of course. That’s where you knew him from. Makes sense now.

There’s a handful of people in the photos, each one more terrifying than the last. A young girl with a feral smile, associated with a string of murders involving severe blood loss. A man capable of decaying anything with just a brush of his fingers. And the same stranger you saw in the store, known for over thirty murders and thousands in property damage, all thanks to those dangerous blue flames.

You slam the laptop shut and suppress a shiver. What were you thinking? Acting so casual with a villain—you knew you recognized those eyes somewhere—and oh my God, were you really going to try to meet him outside at the back?

And for what? Some bandages that he’d clearly already stolen? Hell, you’d let him walk away even when you knew he was planning on stealing them!

Hopefully your boss never finds out about that.

You glance out the window of your living room, pulling the lapels of your jacket closer to your chest. The door’s locked, the windows are latched, and the curtains are closed. Nothing out there but the trees and the moon and the gentle rainfall.

Calm down. Why would he come after you? You didn’t do anything to piss him off, did you? So what makes you think he’d try to figure out where you lived? What would he have to gain from that?

Still, you triple check the lock on the door, before moving backwards towards your bedroom. Also clicking the lock into place once you’re safe inside.

A villain. You can’t believe you came across an actual villain.

Villains were a common presence even back home, and you knew before moving abroad there was a possibility you could encounter some of them. But they always kept to the shadows, staying out of the spotlight for as long as they could. Only showing up in cities far away from your own. You’ve never come face to face with one of them, never been so fucking close to one of them before—

You crawl into bed and throw the covers over your head. Trying to focus on the pitter patter of the rain against the windows.

But you can’t get those images out of your mind. No matter how hard you squeeze your eyes shut, or bury your face into the pillow, you can still see his face. Those horrid wrinkled patches beneath his eyes. The same shade of blue as the flames from his palms. The way he looked at you as though you were nothing but a smear of dirt on the bottom of his boot.

He could’ve burned you right then and there.

You don’t fall asleep easily that night.

Despite your paranoia, the next few days go by without any issue. Work, errands, go back home. Your life continues just as it did before you met that crazy villain—and knowing that, you can breathe a little easier when you rest your head on your pillow for the night.

The little pile of medicine and supplies you’d left in the back alley had disappeared the next morning. Someone else had probably picked them up, who could say no to free medical supplies? There’s a slim chance that villain came back and took them for himself.

You know it’s a long shot. And yet there’s still some part of you that clings to it, wondering if he’s still sticking around this part of town.

Come on, what’s wrong with you? Are you really that eager to put your life in danger like that?

The rational part of your brain says no. But there’s another part, a much more vocal part of your brain, that can’t stop thinking about your little encounter. And what you would’ve done if he’d been in that alley that night.

Probably cry your eyes out. Then get killed like the dumbass you are.

Still, no matter what you do or what you try to focus on instead, he keeps coming back to your mind. And you find yourself visiting those damn websites, those stupid forums night after night when you get home from work, speculating just who he might be beneath those painful scars and bright blue flames.

What kind of life did he lead before joining the League? Does he have any regrets about becoming a villain? Does he actually enjoy being on the run like this?

It’s only when you’re lying wide awake in bed at close to two in the morning, still worn out from a long day at work that the more innocent questions start to plague your mind:

What’s his favorite color? Is it blue, or does he actually hate it? When is his birthday? Does he have any friends, either before he became a villain, or anyone in the League? You wonder, what’s his real name?

“Why am I even thinking about this? Not like I’m ever gonna see him again…” And you should be grateful for that.

But there’s still an ache in your chest, an awkward swirl in your stomach, every time you remind yourself of that simple little fact. And you don’t really know what to make of it.

Another hour passes before you push yourself out of bed and right to your desk in the corner. Grabbing one of the little notebooks you’d bought for story notes and ideas, but haven’t really touched in the last few months. Sliding into the seat with a sigh and clicking open one of the many black pens from the drawer at your side. Flicking on the small desk lamp and squinting against the sudden brightness.

It’s not uncommon for the inspiration to hit at ungodly hours of the morning. Honestly, you do your best writing between midnight and six a.m.; the only drawback is being unable to stay awake at work the next day. But at least you have some damn good writing to show for it.

But that hasn’t happened for months now. Not since you moved and started working nights. Now you have to hit the hay almost as soon as you come home, if you want any chance of a normal sleep schedule.

The pen moves on its own. Every breath brings another word on the page. Ink starts to smudge the side of your hand.

They appear in front of you: all the questions circling around in your mind, begging to be answered. The honest, the childish, even questions you think of on the spot. Anything and everything you would ask him if you were ever given the chance.

What are you doing? You should be in bed trying to sleep. Not doing…whatever this is.

You swallow hard as a single word appears before you: Dabi.

And immediately you start to shiver, your cheeks growing warm beneath the scathing looks of the ink and pages.

You’ve always had a strange complex when it comes to writing out people’s names. They’re much easier to speak out in your mind, or even say verbally. But once you write them out, it becomes almost final. It’s different to actually see those letters right in front of you, rather than just imagining them in your mind. Guess it makes everything seem so much more real that way.

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid.

But you don’t stop, even when your hand begins to cramp. Because this is the first time in almost half a year that you’re actually letting your pen guide you. The first time you truly feel at ease, not even caring about what you’ve written, or even stopping yourself to edit it.

What’s it called, word vomit? It’s therapeutic, but incredibly hard to do sometimes.

It’s not until the sun rises a couple hours later, and you’re half-asleep at your desk. Your arms curled beneath your head, the muscles in your hand throbbing like crazy. But then you see all those words you’ve written, all that ink staining those pristine white pages…

And you can’t help but smile as you drift off to sleep.

The air is stale with the scent of smoke and ash. The city always smells like shit, but it’s usually better on the outskirts. But the burning pile of flesh at the end of the alley begs to differ, and his hands still ache as blue flames lick at his palms.

Another shitty night coming to an end, thank fuck.

Dabi’s been in this damn city for the better part of two weeks now, boss’s orders unfortunately. Scouting for any possible members, new blood they could add to their ranks. But every group is the same; they’re either loud-mouthed fucks with more muscle in their arms than their own damn heads, or they’re practically children, fresh out of school and all set on playing hero. Still thinking this is a fucking game, and that they can stand to take the League out from the inside.

He’s already had one guy try it a couple months back, but he knew better than to go through with it. Can’t say the same for the rest of the dumbasses burning in the alley, though.

Oh, well. No doubt the heroes will find them tomorrow, if they even bother showing up. Not many of them like to venture all the way out here, especially if it means real danger.

He slides a pack of cigs out from his pocket, choosing one and lighting it with the tip of his finger. He’s walked these roads too many times in the last few nights, practically knows them inside and out. And it’s not long before that silly little department store comes into view—the same one that oh-so-generously let him borrow some of their stock last week.

Didn’t even need to use his quirk to make it happen, either.

The double doors slide open, the blaring lights a stark contrast to the shadows of the streets. He barely has time to step back before someone steps out, waving their hand behind them with a smile on their face.

Oh, the same one from that night. He can’t help but smirk at the memory.

It’s a girl—and if her face and height are anything to go by, he’s starting to wonder if she’s even old enough to work at a place like this. Apparently her brain must be impressively small too, with the way she’s walking down the darkened street without a care in the world. One hand fastened on the strap of her purse and the other dangling down at her side, a dark lanyard wrapped around her wrist. She must have a shit-ton of keyrings on them, judging by how hard she swings it back and forth. As if that’s going to protect her if someone tries to jump her.

Fucking dipshit.

He rolls his eyes and takes another long drag of his cigarette. Watching the stupid kid out of the corner of his eye—and nearly dropping the cig altogether when he watches her veer off the sidewalk and head straight for the forest.

What the fuck is she doing? Does she want to get herself killed?

Maybe it’s sheer curiosity—or maybe it’s hoping something out there will pick her off so she’ll learn her lesson—whatever it is, it has his feet moving on their own. Picking up the pace to keep her within his sights, the cigarette barely hanging from his mouth.

Didn’t anyone teach her not to go walking around this late at night? For fuck’s sake it’s nearly one in the morning, does her shift really last that long? What compelled her to take a walk in the goddamn forest of all places? No way she lives all the way out here, she’s probably got a place somewhere in the city. Probably just looking for a cheap thrill so late at night.

Stop it. She’s not your problem to worry about, so quit it already. Just sit back and watch the show.

He follows her down the old trodden path, waiting for her to hit a stray root or trip over a rock and fall flat on her face. But nothing happens, other than a few scuffs of dirt on her ratty old sneakers. Almost like she knows these woods—like the back of her hand.

It’s a struggle to keep his footsteps soft. His boots do nothing to quell the sound of leaves crunching, dirt spraying across the path. Luckily she doesn’t hear, either that or she just doesn’t care.

Where the hell is she heading at this hour?

His answer appears in the form of a house. A pretty shitty-looking one, if he’s being completely honest. Shabby roof, flimsy door, moss creeping over each and every corner. Almost like no one’s bothered to visit the place in the last decade or so—at least.

The girl steps right up to the door, swinging that stupid lanyard at her side. Shuffling around until she finds the right key, before disappearing into the house altogether. A light flickers on in the window, her shadow visible behind the aging curtains.

Fuck him, she does live here.

In the middle of nowhere, secluded from the rest of the world. She’s stupid, isolating herself from all those people in town. Help’s not gonna come if you’re stuck in some random forest, she’s probably better off in the heart of the city. Then again, it must be nice for her. Being able to wake up in the morning without the blaring of sirens in your ears. Tucked away where no one can find you, safe and sound in the comfort of your own quiet home.

He almost envies her. Almost.

The longer he stares at the little mossy house, watching her shadow flit back and forth behind the curtain, the more he starts to wonder what she has inside. Must be stocked on food and medicine; that shit’s hard to come by these days. Might be worth a peek once she’s gone. She’ll probably leave tomorrow night for her shift, right? He’ll slip in then, see if she’s got anything worth his time. Better this random cottage than an apartment in the city, right? From what he can tell there’s not a soul in sight, save for the looming trees and starry sky.

He’s smirking now, slipping back into the shadows of the forest, right beside the old trodden path. She never even sees him.

The house is dark and empty by sundown. The path is easier to walk in the daylight, but he still waits until nightfall before scoping out the house. Just in case she getany bright ideas and decides to return home sooner than she should.

It’s a two-story house, and while the front door’s latched shut, the windows sure aren’t. It slides open with a squeak, like it hasn’t been touched in years. Looks like the kitchen—or a sorry excuse for one, if he’s being honest. A small table with only two chairs, neither of them looking like they’re from the same set. Papers and books and pens litter the surface, with the napkin holder knocked down on its side.

Not that they have a better one back at the base. Hell, they’re lucky enough if they’re able to sit down for most of their meals, if they can get their hands on any.

Which reminds him of his mission, and he’s scanning the room for any possible food. And there, to his left: a crowded counter stacked with boxes of cookies and candy, below a pair of cupboards with even more food stored inside.

Jackpot.

The League’s not picky when it comes to food, anything will do when your stomach’s keeping you up at night. Well, Dabi can’t say the same for himself—he fucking hates fish. He’d much rather deal with an empty stomach rather than scarf down a few meager bites of sushi. Just the thought of it makes him want to puke.

He can’t take too much the first night, that’ll only make her wonder. It’s best to have as little people in this secluded house as possible. So for now he stuffs his pockets with small snacks for the guys back at base…and maybe even a few candy bars for Toga. Last thing that little psycho needs is more sugar in her system, but he’d rather not hear her whine that he didn’t get anything for her when he gets back.

Plus, this girl doesn’t seem to have any pomegranates around (or any fruit or vegetables, for that matter), so candy will have to do.

When both pockets are jammed with food, he takes a step back to survey the rest of the house. At least the inside looks marginally better than the outside, save for the abhorrent dining room. Simple and sweet, even if it’s a little bland in color.

A gray couch with a couple of pillows in bright colorful pillowcases. A side table with one too many remotes on it, along with a paperback that’s definitely seen better days. A kitchen isle with a sink cluttered with dirty dishes, and a single stool resting beneath the opposite end. Not a single house plant in sight, but plenty of photos throughout, some on the wall but most taped on the fridge. Must be friends and family—but so far, he can only see one person living in this house.

How sad, she must be so lonely without anyone else here…

He rolls his eyes and trods up the creaky set of stairs. Might as well take a peek at the rest of the house, right?

The hallways split up into three major bedrooms. One is filled with storage totes and moving boxes, still waiting to be unpacked (though, by the layer of dust on each of them, he’s not thinking any time soon). The other bedroom is filled, and he means filled, with books. Every square inch is either vacated with an old aging shelf or a stack of hardcovers on the floor. It’s messy and cluttered and he slams the door shut as soon as he opens it.

Lives like a fucking slob, doesn’t she?

The final bedroom turns out to be the biggest one of all, and it’s the only one in the house that actually lives up to its name. A dresser, a desk, and surprise, surprise, another fucking bookcase. There’s also a bed with a thousand plushies on the covers, each one more ridiculous than the last. A giraffe, a raccoon, and whatever the fuck that is. Some weird fuzzy brown creature with a large snout and a bitchy expression on its face. Toga probably knows the name of it, but Dabi couldn’t care less.

There’s also a set of double doors that leads out to a little terrace. It looks better than the rest of the house—must be a newer addition—overlooking the forest beyond. Overall it’s a cute little spot to live in.

And still no sign of anyone else living here with her.

He’s smirking now, thinking of all the things he can sneak out of here in the next few nights—when something else catches his eye. A strange outline under the blanket of the bed, in the center of all the damn toys staring back at him.

He has half a mind to burn the little giraffe to a crisp as he reaches in for the mysterious object. And it’s…a book. Fucking shocker.

No, wait—it’s a journal. Only a few pages filled in so far, the ink messy against the bright white pages. It’s the size of his palm, with a black leather cover and a matching black string attached to the spine, probably to act as a bookmark. And sure enough it’s stuck in a certain spot in the book, the entry dated to just a few nights ago.

I want to see him again. I know that sounds wrong, but it’s the truth. I can’t really explain it, no matter how hard I try. Everything that comes out just sounds wrong…but in my head it makes perfect sense.

I know I’m probably screwed in the head for thinking this. For thinking about him like this. Like I could be the one to change him, to be the only one he wouldn’t kill on sight.

No, wait a minute. I was, wasn’t I? We saw each other that night at the store, and he didn’t even try to hurt me.

He can feel his brow inching further up with every word he reads. What the fuck is she talking about? He flips to another random page—

And the answer’s staring him right in the face, in stark black ink.

Dabi

I want to see him again. Ask him so many questions, the same ones that keep rattling away in my head. Why did you become a villain? Where did you come from? What is your favorite color?

Please, just one more time. We don’t even have to talk to each other. I just wanna see him with my own two eyes. Now that I know he’s real, that he’s the villain everyone’s afraid of. And I know I should be too, and I am…but I think I’m more curious of him. Maybe that just makes me stupid.

Yeah, I’m just stupid.

The words are swimming on the pages, blurring together, screaming in his head so loud he wonders if he’s read them out loud. But no, it’s dead silent in this room, in this house. Just him and this little black book, written in the hand of that little weirdo. The same one that chooses to live in a creepy old house in the middle of the forest, the one that works at a sketchy department store well into the night. The same one that didn’t scream once she saw him—but instead offered to let him go, even when she knew he was stealing.

And for some reason, he can’t hold back the smirk that stretches across his face.

Of all the people in this city, in this whole damn country, he thinks he’s found the one that intrigues him the most.

Poor girl, doesn’t even know what she’s caused. Just mindlessly writing her thoughts down in her diary, hoping no one will ever read what she’s written.

As carefully as he can, he tucks the book back in its place under the covers. As tempting as it is to take it with him, he knows that’ll only cause more suspicion. Still, he wants to leave her a love letter of his own—something that lets her know she’s not alone in her fascination.

So he does.

And a few minutes later he’s climbing out the kitchen window and making the trek through the forest, pockets full with snacks and a shit-eating grin on his face.

You hate Saturday nights. Arguably the busiest night of the week, and yet you’re still so short-staffed the cashiers end up taking the full brunt of the work. Ringing register, sorting supplies, stocking shelves—oh wait, we need you back up front to do register. Wait why aren’t you working on that cart I told you to finish? Excuse me, can you unlock this item for me? Can you help me check out, and only me, these lines are too long for my liking. Why can’t you be in two places at once?

Not that you ever find it fun to come to work…but Saturday nights just make it a little less fun. And once it calms down and the store closes up, you have to make the journey back home half-asleep. It’s a miracle you haven’t woken up in the middle of the forest yet.

Tonight is one of those nights, where you stumble your way back home like you’ve just had one hell of a night at the bar. But no amount of rubbing your eyes or chugging the bottle of soda in your hands will keep you upright. Eventually you see your little house in the distance, and your chest starts to feel a little lighter at the promise of sleep.

You fumble with the keys twice before managing to unlock the door. Latching it shut behind you, you don’t even turn on any lights before heading straight to your room. The dishes and laundry can wait till tomorrow. Right now, all you need is some fucking sleep.

The trio of stuffed animals on your bed greet you when you step into the room. Before coming to live here, your mother insisted you bring along some childhood stuffies with you, just so you wouldn’t get too lonely. And you hate to say it, but she was absolutely right. More often than not do you find yourself cuddling up to them, wondering about your family back home.

You kick off your shoes and drape your jacket over the back of the desk chair. Then you flop face first onto the bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas. You know you’ll be out cold within five minutes, so what’s the point?

“Goodnight, Rascal,” you mumble to the little raccoon, “goodnight, A.J.,” you pet the little giraffe, “and goodnight, Maxwell.” The little capybara toy is your favorite, but you’ll never admit it out loud. (Not when the other two can hear you.)

You roll over onto the bed, but something sharp juts into your side. You groan and force your hand beneath the covers to yank it out—oh, that’s right… you forgot you’d left your little notebook in bed with you. Must’ve fallen asleep while writing in it last night.

But there’s something sticking out of it, something that prevents it from closing all the way. You open it up and a scrap of paper falls out; not a loose page from the book, but a folded-up index card. One that’s got a note of its own written messily on the side.

One that makes the exhaustion all but vanish from your body.

You should keep this book in a safer hiding spot. You never know who might be reading all your little love notes, doll.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #kerosene and butterflies #tw: stalking #restricted fics

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the-wip-project · 3 months

Text

SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals

A Novel in one year.

So, what are the numbers for that?

If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.

Numbers like projected length of novel (I’m going to use 80k for this, but don’t get married to that, once you get into it the work with find it’s own length) and how many words a day you would need to write to hit that goal. (220)

That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.

A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!), and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.

I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)

So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?

Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.

Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)

The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.

By now I hope you’ve figured out a good time and place to write. So go there, at that time, and do a timed 15 minute sprint. However many words you got, halve it. Repeat this exercise a few times to make sure you’ve got a good average.

Unless you’re a power writer, you will most likely end up with a number that is below that 220 we mathed out earlier, DON’T PANIC. In fact, for this example lets say that you managed to write an average of 200 words in your 15 minute sessions. Which means that your daily goal is now 100 words.

Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!

The point here is not to write only 100 words a day. It’s making the daily task of writing feel easy and approachable. Not scary. If you know you only need to write 100 words, and you know you can get that done easily in less than 15 minutes, then why not do it? And once you’re writing, writing a little more generally happens easily enough. If getting started is the hard part, this should really help.

It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!

Once you’ve set your (very easy) minimum goal, I also encourage you to set a maximum daily goal too. Especially if you’re the type of person who tends to go on 10k writing binges and then not write again for two months. Set your maximum at what you can comfortably write in 1.5-2 hours. So let’s say that’s 1000 words. Meaning your goal is to write 100-1000 words every time you sit down to write, and consider everything, from barely getting 102 to maxing out at 1002 an awesome, winning, writing day.

What does that look like? On a bad day, a day you don’t fee like writing at all, it means you tell yourself that all you need to do is write for ten minutes. Just get down 100 words (or whatever your minimum goal is.) And then if you haven’t found your mojo, you stop. No guilt or regret. You’ve met your goal, even though you’re having a bad day. You’re doing awesome!

On a power day, when you feel almost possessed by the muses, it means that when your timer beeps, or you see that number on the bottom of the screen hit 1000 (or whatever your number is), you make yourself stop. Yes. Stop mid flow. (It’s painful, I know! But please try!) Why stop? Because you’re learning how to have a healthy long term writing habit.

Write yourself some notes, and come at it fresh tomorrow. The goal is teach yourself that your creativity isn’t actually a unreliable muse. You are not subject to it’s whim. With time and practice your creativity will be there whenever you reach for it.

This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)

However perhaps you’re really just convinced that particular kind of psychological trickery just won’t work for you, or perhaps you’ve tried it in the past without success. Maybe it creates the opposite effect for you, and you find daily writing skippable because the minimum goal feels so low that you think you can make it up later (you won’t, but ahem, brains are weird.) So here is an alternative method that is also quite effective.

2. Higher Goals to Plan For Misses

Instead of setting your goal ridiculously low, you can try setting it high enough that you can miss writing days while still staying on track.

This will only work if you’ve been able to carve out a larger chunk of time for daily writing, thirty minutes to an hour.

So, lets run the example numbers. Using the 80k novel template, we already know that it would take 220 words a day if you write every single day, and never delete anything.

Writing every day is almost impossible, so you’re setting yourself up to fail if you set 220 as your goal.

So instead you plan for writing 6 days a week. Perhaps you intend to take Mondays off. They suck and you know you usually don’t feel like writing then anyway. Awesome. Let’s make that our schedule. Writing 312 days a year means a daily target of 257 words.

But still, that leaves no margin for error. No time for bad days, illness, that one scene you have to cut because it wasn’t working, etc.

So we double it. Your goal, with a plan of writing 6 days a week, is 500 words a day. And also (and this is the important bit) 2000 words a week.

Wait! That’s 4 days, not 6! Yes. That’s the point. It allows room for misses. To allow you to fail without failing. For days when you can’t reach 500, for days when you don’t have time (and with a larger daily goal like this, that’s a lot more possible.) For days when you just can’t.

Of course if you can only count on writing 5 days a week, or 4, or whatever your life situation calls for, adjust your goals accordingly. Always keep your goal word count about 1/3 higher than needed, to give yourself that cushion. If the numbers gets too large to manage, then it’s time to change the long term goal.

Yes. Really. Change it. Setting a goal that you’re bound to fail at is not going to help you.

Perhaps it’s more feasible for you personally to write your novel in 18 months, or two years. As always, your health is more important than an arbitrary time line, and you’ll still be awesome if you write your novel a little slower.

But what if both of those methods still stress you out, or if focusing on the numbers like that kills your joy?

Here’s a bonus method, that I personally use when things get to be a real struggle.

3. Gold Stars

This is for the times when the thought of tracking word count is just one step too many, and becomes an obstacle for writing at all. However when you abandon tracking completely, it’s often a way to abandon writing too.

So having some sort of way to confirm that yes, you’ve written for the day still helps, whether that’s putting a gold star, or an X on a calendar (you can find printable month/page calendars online for free, or you can buy those little book calendars very cheap), creating an art or craft piece (one time I wrote an entire novel assisted by a scarf where I only got to crochet a row after I’d written for the day), or whatever other way you can think of to mark that you wrote. Having a way to look back at your week or month and confirm that yes, you’ve written most days, is often enough keep you honest (with yourself.) As long as it’s something that feels like a reward and not additional work.

So there you have it. 3 methods for setting word count goals and tracking what you’re accomplishing.

Let me know what you’re going to try, or what sort of tricks work for you! (and feel free to ask me for help figuring out how to apply this in your own life.)

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

#slowmowrino #failure proof goals #word count goals #writing advice

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