#Gate Driver IC

[futureelectronic1527]

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[alln2torre]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--analog--drivers--mosfet-igbt-drivers/bts4175sgaxuma1-infineon-5060642

What is an IGBT driver, mosfet gate driver, high side, ic, MosFet driver chip

BTS4175SGA Series 52 V 1.3 A Smart High Side Power Switch - PG-DSO-8

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[futureelectronic1132]

Introducing Infineon MOTIX 6ED2742S01Q 160V Gate Driver

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[bluewxrld07]

Lifeline (Jack Hughes)

Summary: Jack has Y/N take his car to his game. What happens when she gets caught up in a serious accident?

Warning(s): Flangst, serious car accident, serious injuries, anxiety attacks, detailed injury description

"Jack where are my shoes?" Y/N calls out, touching up her makeup in the bathroom before shutting off the light.

"I think I put them in the hallway closet!" he says back from his bedroom. She searches through the pile of shoes, finally finding the pair she was looking for and letting out a satisfied sigh.

Jack pops out of the bedroom while buttoning his jacket, adjusting the beanie on his head before straightening out his suit. He walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips and giving her a kiss on the cheek as he skims past her to slip his own shoes on.

"You still fine to take my car?" he asks, and she nods with a hum

"Do I just show them the pass when I get to the gate?"

"Yeah they know you're coming, I made sure to keep them aware you'd be in my car." he adds, making her nod as she walks back to his bedroom to go put her jewelry on.

She stands in front of the mirror while putting her earrings in.

"Okay," Jack announces, quickly walking into his room and coming to her. He passes her his keys before wrapping her in a hug from behind. "I'm out of here, the guys are downstairs. I'll see you later, yeah?" he asks as he is giving her multiple kisses on her temple, Y/N soon turning her head to capture a couple kisses on the lips.

She smiles up at him. "Aye aye captain." she chuckles, earning a playful eyeroll and a tongue sticking out at her before he leaves the room.

It's another fifteen minutes or so before Y/N is grabbing her purse and Jack's keys, kissing her cat goodbye for the evening and locking the door behind her.

Once she is in the parking garage she unlocks Jack's car, setting his keys back into her purse while opening the driver's side door.

She pushes the button to start it up, letting the car warm up to her liking while she sets her stuff into the passenger seat. As her music soon booms through the speakers she begins to leave the garage as she hums along to the tunes.

The ride was overall quiet and peaceful in her opinion, snow coming down pretty quickly the more downtown she got into New Jersey.

By the time she'd be arriving at the stadium, the boys would be just getting onto the ice for warmups which as perfect timing for her to see Jack as he went back to the locker rooms post warmups.

She made it to the final stoplight just before the arena was in her view, her chest feeling a little less heavy as she always got nervous driving Jack's car.

"It's just a car, baby. I can always buy another one. I can't buy another you." He'd always tell her, which always resulted in her saying she knows how much this car meant to Jack. It was like his baby.

Her light finally turned green, Y/N beginning to turn onto the next road but lets out a gasp as she hears a car horn, and sees headlights getting closer towards the driver's side of Jack's car.

Before she can try to miss the impact, the car hits her side fast and hard. She could feel the car go flying across the intersection and toppling over.

She felt the impact as it hit her, only just barely before her body takes over and everything goes dark.

Meanwhile, Jack and the crew are making their ways back to the locker rooms after finishing warmups all hyped up for the night ahead.

As they're all gettin revved up for the big talk with coach, they all watch him walk into the room with a very serious face. More straight than it usually is.

"The game is being delayed by an hour," he announces, making everyone all hum out responses filled with confusion. Coach raises his arms to silence the team. "There was an accident just by the stoplight. As far as I know, a diesel truck rammed into the driver's side of a bit of a smaller car. The other car has a lot of damage and was hit so hard it rolled and toppled over across the intersection."

All the guys all hummed out in sorrow and understanding, still all buzzing about how long they'd have to actually wait to go out.

Some of the guys threw on their slides before heading out towards the parking garage to see if they could see it from where they were.

Jack and Luke were amongst the few, Luke being further ahead with some of the guys.

The sirens and commotion got louder the closer they got to the edge of the garage, only being to see bits and pieces of it as it looked like it happened just before the turn into the parking garage.

As Jack gets up to be with some of his buddies, a few of the security guars had jogged over to Luke and started saying a few things.

Nico and Dawson were also next to Luke, their faces dropping as they looked at Luke whose face turned white before turning towards Jack then back at the site while running a hand over his mouth waling with the security guards over to the site.

Jack got up closer to the bunch, his eyes squinting and looking over to the crash site.

Nico and Dawson immediately rush up to him before pulling him back. Jack frowns. "What? Why can't I see, what's going on?" he says as he lightly pushes them off of him.

"Jack it's best if you don't go up there." Nico says in a warning tone.

"Why, what's the big deal? Get off!" Jack says as they keep their grips on him.

"Jack don't," Dawson says. Jack glares at them both, confusion taking over his features.

"What the fuck is up with you two?" Jack asks. "What is happening, why did Luke go with them?" he bombards, just before his movements of pushing them off freezes.

His heart falls to his ass as his stomach begins to feel nauseous.

"Don't tell me it's Y/N." he says with a knowing look, and their faces said it all.

Jack immediately fights off their grips harder than he was trying before, running up the street towards the caution tape.

Luke is making his way back quickly, immediately increasing his speed when he sees Jack coming and coming fast. "Jack, no." Luke says with a warning look on his face and pushing him away from the scene.

"Luke you don't want to fucking mess with me right now-"

"You don't want to see this, you need to stay back."

"If you don't get your fucking hands off me, Luke I swear we're going to have bigger issues." he snaps. Jack pushes back at his brother, looking over shoulder and pushing Luke to the side.

He scurries up to the caution tape, his chest becoming heavy as he sees the aftermath. His eyes widening.

There was scrap metal and pieces of the car all over the intersection, skid marks from what he could suspect were his car tires. The giant truck had a few dents and parts missing on the front of it. His eyes followed the skid marks towards where Jack's car was now laying. He felt like it was all in slow motion.

His car was totaled. It was toppled over on its passenger side, the entire driver's side of the car completely demolished.

Y/N was in that car. She felt that impact.

He ran towards the car screaming her name, policemen pushing him back. "No! That's my car, my girlfriend was in that fucking car let me through! Where is she? Where's Y/N? That was my girl in that car dammit! Where is she??" he panics, fighting his way past the officers and running towards the car.

He put a hand over his mouth as he saw the front door was off its hinges, looking as if it had been sawed off. The seat was torn up and didn't look like a seat anymore.

He swear his heart had stopped beating the moment he spotted blood. He saw her purse lying on the broken window of the passenger side.

"Sir you need to step back. This is a crime scene."

He whips his head around with his hands in his hair, tears falling freely from his eyes.

"What happened to her? Where's Y/N? At least fucking tell me my girl is alive!" he screams out, his voice cracking at the end of it.

As the officer was about to speak, someone else's voice came out first. "You said it was your girlfriend in the car?" A firemen behind him announces as he walks up to Jack.

Jack nods eagerly. "Where is she? I need her, I need to see her." he begs.

The firemen purses his lips. "She was just brought away in an ambulance," he starts, watching Jack's face contort into all sorts of emotions. "She was unconscious when we got to her. Her entire left side of her body had been stuck and crammed into the driver's side door. We had to saw the door open to try and get to her." he explains.

Jack swears he could've passed out right then and there.

"Her left leg had been caught in the door the most, so we had to break her leg to get her unstuck. She was in critical condition when we got her out. She was losing a lot of blood." he finishes, Jack breaking out into sobs.

Jack feels his chest getting tight, breathing becoming rapid. Luke wasn't too far behind him, immediately taking his brother into his arms to help him through the panic attack that was going to set in.

"I need to get to her, I need to see her. I need-"

"I know Jack. Let's go, we've gotta go now."

"I never said I loved her before leaving the apartment tonight," Jack gasps out, grabbing at his chest as he tries to slow his breathing.

"You'll get to tell her Jack. Don't think that way." Luke assures, walking his brother back towards the parking garage and the arena.

Luke gives Nico a knowing look, the captain nodding and running inside.

Jack felt everything inside him going numb. All he wanted was Y/N. He wanted her and only her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack's knee never stopped bouncing.

His legs were spread, elbows on his knees as his head was looking down at his lap.

The doctor has yet to come back with any updates from yet a second surgery she was undergoing. Jack was going insane. He couldn't believe he forgot to tell her he loved her before leaving. Especially the fact he let her drive on her own when he knew she hated driving in the snow.

He felt like it was his fault.

"Jack," Luke's voice says softly, making the brown-haired boy's head snap up fast. He sees the surgeon walking their way, causing Jack to stand and meet him halfway.

"How is she? Is she okay?"

The surgeon takes off his cap and holds it in his hands while pursing his lips. "She lost a lot of blood on her way here. Please keep that in mind with the next things I'm about to tell you," he warns Jack, who nods. "She did flatline twice-"

Jack's lung felt like they were deprived of all air entirely.

"We managed to revive her both times, she was doing well after that. We had to full reset her entire left leg and femur. Her hip bone was completely dislodged from its socket," he explains. "She does have a concussion, and a broken elbow which we did put a screw in there to help piece it back together. But she's a strong woman. She pulled through and is in the recovery wing. She will be wheeled into her room shortly, which I can give you the number to so you can wait for her."

Jack nods eagerly, shaking hands with the surgeon after they finished talking. Jack turns to Luke, bitting his lip to keep it from quivering.

Luke pulled his brother in for a hug, holding him tight as he feels Jack shake quietly in his arms.

Once Jack has calmed down a bit they began to walk towards her room to go sit there until she is wheeled in. Jack was stuck wearing his suit to the hospital, his few top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows.

The waiting game for Jack was what was the most agonizing. He sat in the spot that would be next to her bed, Luke looking over at Jack every so often in case he broke out into an attack again.

Before they know it the door is slowly being pulled open, nurses heard chattering lightly as Jack stands and watches as they wheel her bed in. His heart broke, but he knew in that moment he needed to be stronger for her.

She had entire cast taking up her whole leg and was partly taking over her hip, as well as a cast over her left elbow. She had a small neck strainer, and some butterfly bandages across her face.

Her eyes were squinting as if she had just woken up not too long ago, her lip busted as well. She tried looking around, only to be met with pain and limited movement in her neck.

Everything ached numbly to her, due to all the medications they had her on. She felt like she was going to throw up if anything.

The nurses began hooking her up to the machines behind her, making sure her IVs were in tact, making sure she was okay and could feel the pressure they were adding into the palm of her hand.

Her eyes opened a bit more and finally caught Jack's eye, making her eyes water and her lip start quivering. Jack stood up immediately as he walked over to her.

He wanted to take her hand so badly in that moment, but couldn't as the nurses were using it to connect her IVs.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her throat feeling dry and raw. "I'm so sorry Jack. I'm sorry." she began to cry making him bite his lip and shake his head.

"I'm going to go get her some water and ice." Luke says, wanting to give them their alone time as he knew Jack needed that.

Once the nurses were done with her IVs, Jack took her good hand into his and kissed it a million times. He squeezed it tight as he shook his head.

"I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so glad you're okay." he mutters out with a quivering shake in his voice.

"Jack I'm so sorry. I can't believe I ruined your car."

Jack just shook his head and closed his eyes, kissing her hand and keeping it up by his mouth as he stared at her. His eyes glosses over in tears threatening to fall.

"I'm here. I came as soon as I figured it out. I'm so sorry I shouldn't have let you drive in that weather." Jack says.

"Jack your car, I'm sorry. I really-"

"If you bring that fucking car up again I swear I'm going to get pissed off." he interrupts her. She lets her lip quiver.

"But-"

"No. That car is a piece of metal, something easily replaceable," he snaps. "You are not. I don't care about a damn car. I care about the girl I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with being alive. Not a fucking car, Y/N." he says in a darker tone.

"I just I can't believe that happened. It all happened so fast." she whimpers, Jack sniffling.

"The driver was arrested. He's going away for a while, I can promise you that I will make sure of it." Jack assures, Y/N trying her best to squeeze Jack's hand with what little strength she had.

"Jack what about your game?"

He scoffs and looks at her with a knowing look. "You're funny, pretty."

She furrows her brows. "But it's your biggest rival."

"And? I play them every year, I will see them next season. The love of my life flatlined twice and can't walk. I'm more concerned about her than a game." he says, Y/N just letting out a hum.

"I love you so much," Jack says, kissing her hand again. "I love you. I love you more than anything imaginable."

"I love you too Jack. I'm going to be okay.

"I didn't tell you I love you before I left the apartment. I can't believe I didn't say it."

"Jack stop. Don't blame yourself. This wasn't your fault. I know you do, so don't do that." she assures him, and he just nods.

"I just don't know what I would've done if you were gone," he says. "You're my lifeline. You're who I breathe for, who I live everyday for. I can't imagine you not being here. It killed me when I found out. Nothing else mattered."

Y/N wished she could hug him in that moment. She wished she could hold him tight and tell him everything she knew he needed to hear.

"Jack," she starts. "I'm here. I'm alive. I'm breathing and you can feel my pulse beating. I'm not going to leave you ever." she says, watching his eyes blink away more tears.

"If I did croak, I would've come back to haunt you anyways. So you're stuck with me.

Jack gives her a look. "Very funny."

"I thought so." she says with a weak and amused smile. Jack smiles small at her, grateful to see her gorgeous smile again.

She was his everything. His Lifeline.

[amirasainz]

Hello, would it be alright if i requested an f1 x driver reader where the retired drivers like seb, kimi and jenson where they’re like grid dads for the reader

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

Always have her back

The paddock was unusually quiet for a Thursday, but Yn could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She kept her head low, sunglasses shielding her tired eyes from the prying lenses of photographers. The echoes of last weekend’s race still rang in her ears—screeching tires, the sudden thud, Lando’s voice crackling over the radio, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine. Just unlucky, huh?”

But the media didn’t care about accidents or bad luck. They cared about headlines, and Yn had become their favourite target.

“Too emotional.”

“Not cut out for F1.”

“This is what happens when you let a woman race with the big boys.”

The words burned in her mind, each headline another jab at her confidence. She tried to shrug it off, but every question in the press conference, every snide comment from pundits, was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from behind her. She turned to see Charles, his green eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just… long day.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. “We’re having dinner tonight. Come with us?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood, Charles. Sorry.”

Charles watched her walk away, jaw tightening. This wasn’t right. None of it was. Lando had defended her countless times since the crash, even standing up to reporters, but they wouldn’t let it go. And Yn, the fiery, determined driver they all admired, was beginning to crumble under the pressure.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His finger hovered over a familiar name before pressing the call button.

“Hello?” a calm voice answered.

“Seb, I need your help.”

---

By Friday morning, the paddock was abuzz with whispers. Reporters glanced at each other in confusion as Sebastian walked through the gates, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn’t just Seb. Kimi followed close behind, his signature stoic expression making the cameras shy away from approaching him.

“Seb! Kimi! What brings you here?” Carlos greeted them with his usual grin.

“Came to see a friend,” Seb replied simply, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Did Charles call you?” Lando asked quietly, already guessing the reason for their unexpected visit.

Seb nodded. “How bad is it?”

“She’s holding up, but barely,” Lando admitted, guilt flashing across his face. “I hate that this is happening because of me.”

“Hey,” Seb placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kimi, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “Where is she?”

“Probably in the motorhome,” Charles answered as he joined them. “She’s avoiding everyone.”

Seb nodded. “Let’s go.”

---

Yn sat in the Red Bull motorhome, staring blankly at the coffee cup in her hands. The door creaked open, and she sighed, expecting another teammate coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Max, really—” She froze when she saw who it was.

“Seb?” she whispered, blinking in disbelief.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted with a soft smile.

Before she could say anything, Kimi stepped in behind him, nodding in acknowledgment.

“What are you—how—” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Charles called,” Seb explained, sitting down beside her. “He was worried about you. We all are.”

Yn bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotions she had been burying all week. “I’m fine,” she insisted weakly.

“Bullshit,” Kimi said bluntly, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Seb chuckled softly. “He’s not wrong.”

Yn let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… they won’t stop. I’ve tried ignoring it, but it’s everywhere. They keep saying I don’t belong here.”

Seb’s face softened. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” she whispered. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“Yn,” Kimi’s voice cut through the room like ice. “You’re one of the best drivers here. The media are just… a bunch of idiots who don’t know shit.”

Seb nodded. “Exactly. They’re vultures. They need something to pick at, and right now, that’s you. But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“But what if—”

“No,” Seb interrupted gently. “No ‘what ifs.’ You belong here, Yn. You’ve worked just as hard as anyone else. Harder, even.”

Her voice trembled. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Kimi sighed, walking over to sit across from her. “Listen, I’ve dealt with the media my whole career. They’re going to say what they want, no matter what you do. Don’t let them win.”

Seb squeezed her hand. “You have to trust yourself. We do. Lando does. Every driver here knows you deserve that seat.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kimi’s eyes hardened. “Then we’ll make them stop.”

---

The press conference room was packed on Saturday morning. The usual questions about strategy and car performance were quickly overshadowed when Kimi was handed a microphone.

“Kimi, it’s surprising to see you here this weekend. Any particular reason?”

Kimi leaned forward, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Here for Yn.”

The room went silent. The reporter cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. There’s been a lot of discussion about her performance—”

“Discussion?” Kimi interrupted with a dry chuckle. “More like harassment.”

Another reporter chimed in, “Many believe that after last weekend’s collision, she—”

“Did her best,” Kimi shot back, eyes narrowing. “It was an accident. Happens to everyone.”

“But don’t you think—”

“No,” Kimi interrupted sharply. “I don’t think. I know. She’s a damn good driver. Better than half of you could ever dream of being.”

Seb, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. “You keep talking about her emotions, her being ‘too soft.’ Funny. She’s stronger than any of you. She’s here, facing all this crap, and still getting in that car every weekend.”

Kimi, never one to mince words, leaned closer to the microphone. “You’re all a bunch of cunts who can’t leave an innocent girl alone.”

The room gasped, whispers erupting across the room. But Kimi wasn’t finished.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. You did. So maybe, shut up and let her race.”

Seb, smirking, added, “Well said.”

---

Back at the Red Bull garage, Yn sat glued to the screen, tears streaming down her face. Charles, Lando, and Max sat beside her, all smiling softly.

“You see that?” Lando whispered. “They’ve got your back. We all do.”

Yn wiped her eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. I see that.”

Seb and Kimi returned shortly after, both looking smug.

“Feel better?” Seb asked.

Yn laughed through her tears. “A little. Kimi, you were a legend.”

“Counts,” Kimi corrected dryly.

Yn’s eyes widened. “You did not!”

Kimi shrugged. “They deserved it.”

Seb grinned. “Now, let’s get you back on track, yeah?”

Yn nodded, determination finally returning to her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

---

Race day arrived, and as Yn stepped into her car, the weight of the week’s pressure felt a little lighter. Because now, she knew—no matter what the media said, she wasn’t alone.

[bunny-jpeg]

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunny-jpeg and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[norris55s]

norris55s chaotic texts series

a list of all my chaotic texts and works in progress.

i write for any driver included on the masterlist. you can make requests on my ask box, although it might take me a while!

lando norris

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n and lando are unhinged.

chaotic texts chaotic texts pt. 2 chaotic texts pt. 3 chaotic texts pt. 4 chaotic texts pt. 5 - the tortured poet's department edition chaotic texts pt. 6 - the broken nose gate edition chaotic texts pt. 7 - the miami gp win edition work in progress

the situationship texts: the one where lando and y/n aren’t dating, but they’re unhinged together

the situationship pt. 1

the group chat chaotic texts: the one where y/n is so unhinged, lando and his friends have to assemble to handle her

work in progress

oscar piastri

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n is a bit of a lunatic and it rubs off on oscar.

chaotic texts chaotic texts pt. 2 chaotic texts pt. 3 work in progress

carlos sainz

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n matches carlos’ silly, or the other way around.

chaotic texts chaotic texts pt. 2 work in progress

charles leclerc

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n's and charles' messages could probably get them admitted to a psychiatric ward.

chaotic texts chaotic texts pt. 2 - the lec ice cream shop edition chaotic texts pt. 3 - the leo leclerc edition chaotic texts pt. 4 - the monaco gp win edition work in progress

the group chat chaotic texts: the one where charles' girlfriend, y/n, goes crazy when drunk, and he recruits help to handle her.

the group chat: y/n tends to go missing, but charles has his friends to help him, right? the group chat pt. 2: charles goes missing for a change and y/n needs the help now.

max verstappen

the original chaotic texts: the one where max and y/n became insane together.

chaotic texts chaotic texts pt. 2 work in progress

the f1 drivers situationship chaotic texts: the one where max drives for red bull, y/n drives for ferrari, and they both drive each other insane

the situationship: max and y/n are more than friends but can also be insane about each other the situationship pt. 2: max and y/n keep being insane about each other, but won't accept it the situationship final: max and y/n get their shit together, but still act insane

lewis hamilton

the original chaotic texts: the one where lewis tries to understand y/n’s wild mind

chaotic texts

george russell

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n and george are mental, but they're each other's.

chaotic texts

logan sargeant

the original chaotic texts: the one where logan’s american triggers y/n’s madness.

chaotic texts work in progress

alex albon

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n is crazy about bullying alex.

chaotic texts

daniel ricciardo

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n and daniel are mental together.

chaotic texts

sebastian vettel

the original chaotic texts: the one where y/n is out of her head, and sebastian kind of likes it

chaotic texts

pato o’ward

the original chaotic texts: the one where pato and y/n love each other’s crazy

chaotic texts

[futureelectronic1527]

Introducing Infineon MOTIX 6ED2742S01Q 160V Gate Driver

https://www.futureelectronics.com/m/infineon. The new MOTIX™ 6ED2742S01Q from Infineon is designed for three phase BLDC motor drive applications and features integrated power management and protection features leading to higher reliability, higher power density and design freedom in a smaller footprint. https://youtu.be/YWwpw3S_dts

[uniquexusposts]

The one-off | Carlos Sainz Jr. x reader (1)

Summary: She’s not from the world of F1, she’s a sunshine-soft emergency medical specialist used to cracked ribs and bloody football pitches. But when a one-time case calls her into the paddock, she ends up face-to-face with the man she once loved and left behind. Carlos drives for Williams now. She’s just here to fix a shoulder. It’s clinical. Temporary. Professional. So why does it feel like everything unfinished between them is waiting just under the surface?

The paddock buzzes with nerves and noise, full of sleek bodies and sharper egos. It’s like walking into the belly of a machine that’s forgotten how to breathe.

Y/n steps out of the taxi, the sun pressing down hard on her shoulders, and adjusts the strap of her med bag. She smiles politely at the security guard who stood next to the gate, a smile that’s met with confusion. She scanned her pass and walked through. Her bright energy doesn’t quite match the paddock’s stiff professionalism. She doesn’t mind.

She’s used to being the odd one out.

Her badge reads: Dr. Y/N Y/L/N – Emergency Medical Specialist Temporary Access – Williams Racing

Field hockey, football, high-contact chaos; that’s her usual beat. Fast-paced games, cracked ribs, adrenaline surges, bloodied faces. She thrives in the mess. Her reputation has grown not because she’s loud, but because she’s always calm when everyone else panics. Kind to the athletes. Brutal with the rehab.

F1 wasn’t supposed to be on the list. It never has been.

But a call came three days ago.

"It’s urgent. One-time case. Discretion preferred. The driver requested someone with your record."

She didn’t ask which driver.

But now she knows.

She read the file that morning and felt the breath catch in her chest, even if her face never changed.

Carlos Sainz. She hadn’t heard that name out loud in almost two years.

The Williams motorhome is sleek and sterile, like someone tried to design a hotel lobby for robots. She’s led through a glass corridor by a young staffer who speaks fast and avoids eye contact.

"You’ll have the physio suite for the hour," he says, flustered. "Carlos will be in shortly. Let me know if you need... uh... water, towels, whatever."

"Thanks, I’m all good," Y/n says brightly, flashing him a warm smile.

He blinks like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that. She gets that reaction a lot. People expect someone harder. Sharper. Someone who barks orders.

They don’t expect her, sunshine voice, soft features, heart-shaped face. They don’t expect the shift that happens the second she starts working.

She enters the room, alone now, and exhales quietly. Clean table. Blank walls. Only a small Williams logo on the cabinet. She sets up fast, gloves, oils, pressure tools, ice packs, all lined up in practiced rhythm. Her fingers move automatically, but her thoughts are slower.

Carlos.

She hasn’t seen him since Madrid, some rooftop birthday, some too-warm July night where his laugh carried over the crowd like it still belonged to her.

She left before he saw her.

She had meant to forget him.

The door clicks open behind her, soft and deliberate.

She doesn’t turn.

She doesn’t have to.

"Didn’t expect you," Carlos says quietly, his voice lower than she remembers but just as steady.

Y/n adjusts the table height like it’s the most important thing in the world. "Didn’t expect you to be at Williams."

"I needed a change."

She nods once. "So did I."

Finally, she turns. And there he is, leaning against the door like he owns the oxygen in the room. Polo shirt hugging his frame, jaw sharper, hair longer than she remembers. There’s a new tiredness in his face, hidden behind his usual calm.

He blinks once when he sees her properly. "You look-"

"Don’t." She cuts him off, gentle but firm. "Shirt off. Lie face down."

A flash of amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Still bossy."

"Still injured."

He obeys without protest, pulling his shirt over his head and settling on the table with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times.

But not with her. Not like this.

"Why you?" he asks, voice muffled by the cushion under his cheek.

Y/n pulls on her gloves. "I’m called in for emergencies. Fast recovery. High pressure. You know. All the things you attract."

"You usually do football."

"And field hockey. And dislocated shoulders at 3am in random cities." She starts pressing gently along the edge of his spine. "This is a one-time thing."

A beat. Then: "Is it?"

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, her hands shift , from soft to surgical, mapping his shoulder like she’s reading a story in the tension. She finds the problem immediately: strain, deep in the rotator cuff, masked by compensation along the upper trap and back.

"You’ve been protecting this too long," she says gently. "Probably since your last crash."

Carlos hums. "Didn’t want to sit out."

"You’ll sit out if this tears."

"You always talked like that," he mutters, half amused. "Soft voice, scary hands."

Y/N smiles faintly. "You used to like that."

Silence.

She applies deeper pressure, focused and precise. Her energy softens between movements but tightens on contact, he flinches once when she hits a knot, but he doesn’t make a sound.

"You’re quiet," she says, half-teasing.

"Trying not to curse," he mutters into the table.

"That’s new."

Carlos huffs a breath of laughter, low and rough. It almost makes her lose rhythm.

"You always remembered how to hurt me."

Her hands pause.

Only for a second.

He says nothing.

She finishes the session in silence, professional to the end. When she steps back and peels off the gloves, her whole body feels like it’s buzzing, not from the work, but from everything unsaid.

Carlos sits up slowly, bare chest rising with each breath. He moves carefully, not because of the pain, but like he’s searching for words he doesn’t want to waste.

"You’re still the best," he says finally.

"And you’re still reckless," she replies, reaching for the ice pack.

Their fingers brush for a second.

He looks at her, really looks at her, like maybe he’s searching for the version of her that once stayed up all night on balconies and laughed at his terrible Spanish pick-up lines.

But Y/n only smiles, kind and tired and distant.

"Apply this tonight. Stretch tomorrow. Don’t be a hero."

Carlos stands slowly, polo draped over one arm. "I didn’t ask for you, by the way."

"I didn’t come for you."

Another silence.

But it feels different now. Not heavy, just unfinished.

At the door, he turns. "You ever think about Madrid?"

She tilts her head. "Only when I need a reason to say no."

He winces. Laughs once, under his breath. "Still sunshine with a bite."

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and Y/n finally lets her shoulders drop.

She sits on the edge of the table, ice pack pressed to her own wrist where she’d overworked it from the pressure, and stares at the empty wall.

It was supposed to be clinical. Quick. Efficient.

But it wasn’t.

Not with him.

Not with Carlos.

And the worst part?

It didn’t feel over.

Part 2

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#RedForEd rides again in LA

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on WEDNESDAY (Apr 2), and in BLOOMINGTON on FRIDAY (Apr 4). More tour dates here.

The LA Teachers' Union is going on strike.

Fuck.

Yes.

The last time the LA teachers struck was in the midst of the 2019 #RedForEd wave, which kicked off during the last Trump presidency. All across the country, teachers walked out – even in states where they were legally prohibited from doing so. These strikes were hugely successful, because communities across the nation rallied around their teachers, and the teachers returned the favor, making community justice part of their goals.

This was true across America, but it was especially true in Los Angeles, where the teachers were militant, united, relentless, and brilliant. The story of the 2019 LA Teachers' Strike is recounted in Jane McAlevey's essential 2021 book A Collective Bargain, which recounts her history as a union organizer on multiple successful unionization drives and strikes, including that fateful teachers' strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

McAlevey learned her tactics from a lineage of organizers who predated the legalization of unions and the National Labor Relations Act. Accordingly, her organizing method didn't rely on bosses obeying the law, or governments sticking up for workers. She fought for victories that were won by pure worker power. The 2019 LA teachers' strike is a fantastic example, a literal textbook case about rallying support from the entire shop – including affiliated workers, like bus-drivers – and then broadening that massive support by bringing in related trades (the LA charter school teachers walked out with their public school comrades), and the community.

The LA teachers' community organizing was incredible. They worked with community groups to understand what LA families really needed, and made those families' demands into union demands. The LA teachers' demands included:

in-school social workers;

parks and green-spaces in or near every LA public school; and

a total ban on ICE agents shaking down parents at the school gates.

Environmental justice, immigration justice, racial justice – these issues were every bit as important to the LA teachers in 2019 as wages, working conditions and vacation pay. And. They. WON.

Not only did the LA teachers win everything they struck for, they built an enduring community organization that ran a massive get out of the vote effort for the 2020 elections and flipped two seats for Democrats, securing Biden's Congressional majority.

So now the teachers are walking out again, and while their demands include wage increases (the greedinflation crisis wiped out many of the gains won in the 2019 strike – though imagine how much worse things would be without those gains!), the demands also include a slate of bold, no-fucks-given, material measures to fight back agains the Trump administration and its fascism:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2025-03-26/l-a-teachers-union-pursues-salary-hike-progressive-goals-amid-trump-agenda

This time around, the LA teachers are demanding:

"targeted investment in the recruitment and retention of BIPOC, multilingual and immigrant educators and service providers" – that's right, the DEI stuff that makes Trump's incipient aneurysm throb visibly in his temple (keep throbbing, li'l guy, I believe in you!).

"support for, defense and expansion of the school district’s Black Student Achievement Plan and Ethnic Studies" – the same programs that make wrestling faildaughter Linda McMahon get the fantods.

“strengthened policies to support LGBTQIA+ students, educators and staff” – take that, Elon.

"increased support for immigrant students and families, with and without documentation, including support for newcomers" – up yours, Stephen Miller, you pencilneck Hitler wannabe.

Where'd all these demands come from? 665 meetings that solicited input from "students, parents and other community members." In other words, these are our demands – the demands of Angelenos.

Trump is a scab. Musk is a scab. They hate unions. They've put the National Labor Relations Board into a coma, illegally firing a board member so that the board no longer has a quorum and can no longer take most actions. But the tactics the LA teachers used to organize their victory under the last Trump regime didn't rely on the NLRB – it relied on worker power. That power is only stronger today. The NLRB exists because workers built power when unions were illegal. Killing the NLRB doesn't kill worker power. Worker power comes from workers, not the government:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/29/which-side-are-you-on-2/#strike-three-yer-out

Now that Trump has canceled labor laws, all bets are off. Trump is illegally breaking the contracts of federal workers, as a prelude to eliminating unions nationwide. As Hamilton Nolan writes, this is the time to take a stand:

It is unreasonable to run around demanding a general strike every time a single union gets in a hard fight. It is not unreasonable to demand a general strike when the very existence of unions is under direct attack by a government that cares nothing about us, and does not respect our contracts, and is attempting to throw in the trash the union contracts covering hundreds of thousands of our fellow union members, as a step towards doing the same thing to millions more of our fellow union members. This is the bombing of Pearl Harbor, against the labor movement. Will we say, “We are filing a lawsuit against this illegal bombing, and we will keep you all updated as it progresses?” Will we say, “Pearl Harbor is way out in Hawaii. I’m glad those bombs didn’t fall where I live.” These are the terms that the union world needs to be thinking in, right now. This is not an exaggeration. If we do not go to war, the husk of American unions that emerges at the end of the Trump administration will be, probably, about half as big as it was when the Trump administration started, and immeasurably weaker. That is not an acceptable outcome if you believe that increasing organized labor’s strength is the key to saving this country, which it is.

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/they-are-going-to-take-everything

McAlevey – who died in 2024 – agreed with Nolan. She wrote vibrantly about how union organizing, and the solidarity it nurtures, was the key to a revitalized democracy and a nation that truly takes care of its people, rather than lining them up in billionaires' feedlots.

I gotta go. I'm on my way to a Tesla protest. Maybe you could find one near you to join, too:

https://actionnetwork.org/event_campaigns/teslatakedown

But if I don't see you at this one, I'll see you on the picket line – with the LA teachers, the federal workers, and everyone else who's taking a stand against this scab presidency.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/29/jane-mcalevey/#trump-is-a-scab

[futbolfatale]

Wanna Watch A Scary Movie: Abigail

Diana Taurasi/Reader

Tags: Kidnapping, Gore, Fingering, Blooddrinking, death of side character, body horror,

Summary: You are hired to kidnap a child ballerina. You later meet her mother and maybe fall in love.

Wordcount: 3.4K

Two weeks ago, you had been approached by a man about an obscure job. You needed the money, so of course, you accepted. Which puts you currently on a street corner waiting for your ride. All the information you got was to be at this spot at 7:30 pm, and a man would pick you up. Seems like a great way to get kidnapped, but also a great way to make a lot of money. The iced tea in your hand has long since gone warm, yet you still hold onto it as a black car pulls up to the curb in front of you. The window rolls down, but the man inside doesn’t look at you. Once you're in the car, it pulls off before you have a chance to even buckle in.

You settle into the backseat before the man in the passenger seat looks back at you. His face is hardened, showing no emotion, making it hard to gauge what he is thinking. “Is the temperature alright back there?” The driver asks, turning back to look at you. He is the muscle clearly. He is a large man with a small brain, from what you can tell. “ The temperature is fine just fucking drive” The man is the passanger reponds his voice high and nasley. If he had let you respond, you would have said it was a little chilly, but it feels too late for that now. On the seat next to you sits a black case with your codeman written on it. Inside is the settitive man who hired you, had mentioned. 

The car pulls to a stop in front of a large house. The three of you step out, ski masks already on, and head into the building. The front door is unlocked, and all three of you Head of stairs, following the man from the passenger seat, he seems to be the assigned leader. The room he leads you into is a child's. There are dolls and books scattered all over, and from the pictures on the wall, she is only nine or ten. “Nobody said we were kidnapping a child,” You whisper to the self-ordained leader.”It’s a fucking kid if your going to walk fucking do it.” You don’t move. You can’t afford to walk, this money is what is going to keep your mother's mortgage paid. “Get in position over there,” He gestures to a corner, and you walk over there. The door opens and you have to hold back tears the girls just come home from a fucking dance retial and you about to ruin her fucking life. Her phone rings and she picks it up, bringing it to her ear. “Hi Mama,” She should be excited as she throws her stuff on the floor and bounces into bed. “ It was good, I had fun… Ya, I think so,” she settles into bed and pulls out a journal, opening it up on her lap. “No, not yet… Ya… Everything is great, Mama, I love you”. There is a pause as she listens to whatever her mom is saying. “Bye,” she tosses the phone, and that's when you pounce. The leader holds her down, but she stabs him with a pen, then the muscle holds her down while you jab her with the sedative.

The radio goes off, grabbing everyone's attention. “Incoming. It could be the mother,” A woman says. “Shit” The leader shoves the girl into a duffle bag. “They'll be at the door at ten. Should I take the shot?” A man asks over the coms. “Negative, hold your fire,” The leader says before guiding the way out of the house. He takes you out the back door, making a move for the back gate. “New pickup at the back gate,” your leader whispers over the coms. You make it out of the gate, the sniper joins you. “I think we are in the clear,” your leader states. That is when the lights flicker on and the sirens start blaring, cause of course, he had to jinx it. You make a break for the van, running like your life depends on it. All four of you, plus the girl, get in the van. You pull off your mask, happy to finally feel like you can breathe again.“Alright, kids, we aren’t out of the woods yet, we still need to get out of the city.” You leaders say, his words degrading. It's like he thinks he knows more than all of you combined. The rest of the drive passes in a blur with loud conversation and sharp turns.

The house you pull up to looks straight out of a horror movie. It’s surrounded by iron fencing and looks completely abandoned. The muscle picks up the girl, slinging her over his shoulder, as the group of you head inside to meet your boss. The house is even creepier inside, though it’s cool, it reminds you of a Victorian-style movie set. “Find a room, get the girl situated. Set up a look-out position. Meet back here in five,” the Boss orders, and you set off in search of an adequate room.

“For those of you who don’t know, I am Lambert. Each of you came highly recommended. And so far, those recommendations have paid off. The rules are the same as always no real names, no backstories, and keep the grab ass to a minimum. It is only a twenty-four-hour job, and the hard part is over. You’ll be the only one to talk to her, so she hears only one voice.” He says, pointing at you. “I just have one question: whose kid is she?” You ask curiously. You really want to know who you're about to be extorting and how much shit you'll be in if this goes south. “A very wealthy woman who is about to be 50 million dollars poorer. You’ll be safe here. And to be completely certain you can’t be tracked, I will be taking your phones.” He goes around collecting phones, some more reluctantly than others.

“Why can’t we use our real names?” Muscle asks. “ So if someone gets caught, they can’t rat anyone else out,” Your leader says. “ You want names, fine.”

“You're Frank,” He points to the leader.

“Dean,” The driver.

“Sammy,” The tech girl.

“Peter,” the muscle. 

“Kate,” He points to you. It's insulting that you don’t look anything like Kate.

“Don,” The sniper.

“There is clean bedding and light fires in the rooms. The kitchen and Bar are fully stocked. I’ll see you in 24 hours, my lovely pack of rats.” He shuts the doors after that, leaving you trapped here. “I’m going to find somewhere to lie down.” You turn and head up the stairs in search of a room to sleep in. You don’t acknowledge the disputed noises your crewmates make. They can go get drunk, but you don’t need that.

You find a bedroom just down the hall from where the girl is handcuffed. You throw yourself on the large bed and stare up at the ceiling. When you turn to lie on your side, you notice the portrait hanging on the wall. It depicts a tall woman with brown hair and a large nose standing next to a little blonde girl in a ballerina outfit. The portrait looks old, at least fifty years if not more. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” a voice whispers right into your ear. You turn to scream, unsure of who is behind you. Sammy didn’t sound like that, and the voice had definitely been feminine. A cold hand wraps around your mouth. “Don’t scream. I really don’t want to have to kill you,” the person behind you whispers. She removes her hand, and you lie there locked in place from fear alone. You try to pull away as if a blindfold is tied around your eyes. “Shhh. Just stay quiet, okay. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you make me.”The woman whispers her breath ghosting across your skin. 

“Who are you?” The words come out breathlessly. “ A very wealthy woman,” She whisper’s mirroring the earlier words. She rolls you onto your back, your legs spread. The position makes you feel exposed despite the clothing on your body. “That’s your daughter,” You say, the obvious question as the woman's lips ghost over your collarbones. “Yes.” She whispers before her tongue darts out, licking softly at the side of your neck. “What do you want?” You whisper a voice shaky from fear or arousal, you may never know. “First I am going to fuck you. Then I am going to kill your teammates slowly and excruciatingly. And after I’ve had my fill of playing with them, I will come back for you.” Something sharp pierces your neck, and you feel the blood oozing. It only lasts a moment, for then her mouth is there licking it up. “Why me?” you whisper before choking on your own words. Her hand slid between your legs and into your pants as you were talking. She rubs softly at your clit from outside the thin fabric of your underwear. “You’ll know soon enough. Now just lie back and let me help you.” She whispers against your skin. Her fingers find their way into your underwear and run slightly as your soaking entrance. Before you have much time to react, she slides two fingers in, and god, they are so big. They feel good inside you, like that’s where they are meant to be. 

A knock at the door pulls you from your sex addled mind. “It’s time to check on the girl. Can you get out here?” Frank shouts, now kicking your door. The man has no patience. The woman’s presence is gone. You long for her, though you shouldn’t. She admitted to a future attempt to kill your crewmates. But then again, she just gave you the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.” I’m coming,” you crawl out of bed, pulling on the blindfold and throwing it on the bed behind you. You open the door and step out into the hall, pulling it shut behind you. He leads you into the girl's room wordlessly and stands outside as you slip in.

“What’s happening?” The girl whispers fearfully. You walk over and sit next to her on the bed. “Are you feeling okay?” you question, rubbing her arm in an attempt to be soothing. This would all be over soon, whether her mother kills everyone or your crew succeeds, this will be done within twenty-four hours. “Who are you?” she questions voice , still fearful. “You can call me Kate”. “Can you take off the blindfold? It’s really tight,” She questions softly. You pull your gator up to conceal your face before removing her blindfold. “Are your cuffs hurting you?” You question. She nods, and you have her sit up and move the cuffs so that her hands are in front of her. “What’s going on? Where is my mama?” She asks, tears gathering in her eyes. “The man we work for wants money from your mama. Once we get the money, we’ll give it back,” you explain, keeping your voice as even and calm as possible. “But my mama is here, I can smell her perfume. It’s on you. You're the one she told me about.” She switched from being fearful to thoughtful in a second. “What did she say about me, because as far as I know, I have never met your mother?” You ask curiously. Maybe she knows something about her mother's mysterious appearance and her threat. “You’ll know soon enough,” She whispers voice barely audible. “I have to go now, I will be back to check on you in a bit.” You stand and turn to walk to the door. You need a drink and to calm down. Surely it was just some fucked up dream. Maybe there was mold in that room, and it was poisoning your brain. “Kate,” she questions from her bed, causing you to turn around, hand still on the doorknob. “I’m sorry for what's about to happen to your friends,” which makes you hurry out of the room. The least you could do is warn them. Maybe they would just leave.

Frank is sitting at the bar alone, making him the perfect person to talk to first. You sit down next to him, waiting for a beat before the words finally burst from your lips. “Do you know who the girls’ mother is?”. You don’t even have to wait a moment for his reply. “No, do you?” the words sounding accusatory. “No, but from what she is insinuating, her mother is of a particularly violent nature. “Of course, she implied that she is terrified. Her goal is to rattle you.” He replies with a tone back to uncaring nature. “Well, I am inclined to believe and I hope that you take her threat seriously.” You push away from the bar and head off in the opposite direction. You're unsure of where you are going, but the need to get away from Frank's Idiocy is overwhelming. You find yourself in an industrial kitchen. It looks like it belongs in the back of a restaurant, not in the basement of this creepy mansion. “Are you tired? I will give you that.” You turn sharply, the woman from the bedroom is now sitting on the edge of the counter, looking at you expectantly. “They wouldn’t listen.” You shake your head, rage boiling inside of you. “They never do. You can’t blame yourself.” She looks up, hair falling behind her, so you get the first clear view of her face. She has a strong jawline, a large nose, and freckled cheeks. “How often are you doing this?” How many people have been in your exact position. “Every so often, Abigail finds it amusing, and I love my baby.” She pushes off the counter and walks towards you. That's when it hits how truly large she is. Tall and not only that, but built as well. She cups your face before tilting you to look at her. “When things start to get really messy, just go back to bed and lock the door; you’ll be safe there. Sometimes Abigail goes a little overboard. Wouldn’t want you to get caught up in the crossfire.” She taps your nose, a condescending smile taking over her face. Shouting from upstairs draws your attention, and when you turn back to her, she is already gone. 

“What is going on?” You ask, spotting Frank trying to open the door. “What’s going on is that little crotch demon we kidnapped is fucking Diana Taurasi’s daughter.” That’s where you recognized that woman from. She had been on the news multiple times, but the photos were always of poor quality. “Who is Diana Taurasi?” Sammy asks, slopping her gum loudly. “She is your worst fucking nightmare. Nobody even knows how big her empire is.” Frank's pacing puts you even more on edge. “So is she like some crime boss?” Sammy questions nervously. “Now we all have a death mark,” Don pipes up. “What if we just give her back?” Sammy proposes. “Here is your daughter back, mistress Antichrist, so sorry,” Frank mocks. “UH, Where is Dean?” Peter asks, glancing around at all of us. “Fucking Shit of course. Spread out and find him.” Frank orders something annoyed. It takes all of ten minutes before you stumble upon his decapitated body. His head lies on the ground a few feet away. The sight alone urges you to vomit, but then the stench hits you, and you vomit all over the floor.

—--

“It looks like a wild fucking animal ripped him apart” Frank is practically shouting while investigating the body. “It’s her. She said her mother was dangerous.” You whisper, finally able to hold in your bile. “There are rumors that Diana Taurasi isn’t fully human. And there is plenty of evidence if you believe in those things,” Don adds. “We should check on the girl,” Sammy whispers, unable to tear her eyes away from the body.

You slip into the bedroom, leaving your crewmates outside as you go to sit on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?” She whimpers. Her acting isn’t very good, or maybe you're just better attuned to it now. “Someone just beheaded one of my crewmates, and I need to know why.” You try to harden your voice to seem like you have everything under control. “Mama already told you why. It’s not my fault if you aren’t a very good listener.” Her voice is teasing as if she is only trying to piss you off. “Why are you doing this to me?” You whisper, allowing your walls to crack slightly. “Let me go, and this can all be over. “She promised, and you stood back. You know yourself too well, and the offer is far too tempting.

“What did she tell you?” Frank asks as soon as you step into the hall. “Nothing useful, just how we already know why we are here. I don’t have any clue.”. You run a hand through your hair in frustration. “Then we will need to get rough with her,” Frank smirks as if this is what he wanted the whole time. Peter stalks into the room, and you follow after him, trying to slow him down. “Don’t hurt her, this isn’t part of the job,” You shout, trying to drag him out by his bicep. “ The jobs over you, idiot. This is life or death now,” Frank taunts before pulling a gun on Abigail. “I wouldn’t, my mama really doesn’t like guns.” Abigail's voice is sickly sweet. “Well, your mama isn’t here, is she?” Frank fires a warning shot into the wall beside the bed, startling all of you. A gurgling sound beside you gathers your attention.

When you turn around, Don is on the ground convulsing and clutching his throat, blood is spilling out all over the floor. You scream so loud your ears pop, and when you turn back to Abigail, she is free from her handcuffs. As you turn to run, she jumps on Peter, biting into him. You take off down the hall, Sammy hot on your heels. “What the fuck. We kidnapped a vampire ballerina.” Her shouts are mostly drowned out by your racing heart. You reach the bedroom and the two of you make it inside before you lock the door. “What the fuck” Sammy crys her voice panicky. You just hope that what Diana said is true. “Let me in,” Frank shouts, pounding on the door. Sammy’s eyes dart to you, and you shake your head in response. He is as good as dead already. He screams, and there is a thud. Then the door handle jiggles. You can’t look away, but god, you want to. The sound of a key scraping against metal fills the air before the door is pushed open with a creak.

There she stands, Diana Tuarasi, in all her glory. She is drenched in blood, and her once white hoodie is stained, and her basketball shorts are better off, but not by much. “Did you think you could lock me out, baby?” Diana questions a faux pout on her lips. “What’s happening?” Sammy whispers, her eyes darting between the two of you. She stalks closer until your faces are only inches apart. “I told you I would come back to you” Her hand sneaks around grabbing a handful of your ass. You gasp in surprise, leaning into her. “Abigail, take your snack to your room.” Diana doesn’t break eye contact with you as she speaks. “What, wait no please,” Sammy screams, her body collapsing to the floor as Abigail drags her away. The door slams, and Sammy’s screaming drifts further and further away. 

“You are absolutely filthy, baby. Come on,” Diana pulls you into the bathroom. You can’t read her expression, you wonder if this is all just some sick game. Convince you that you're special, that you are final girl material, only to kill you. She starts to draw a bath, but you drift to the doorway just in case you have to run. Not that you would make it very far. “Are you finally going to tell me why you're doing this to me?” Your voice is low and soft. “You're my mate, it is as simple as that. Abigail wants you around because you will be the only one ever capable of carrying my blood children. She’s always wanted a little sister.” Diana doesn’t look up as she speaks. “Don’t think too much about it, you don’t have much choice in that matter anyway.”

Taglist

@evry1luvzzae, @liloandstitchstan

[delaware-lemme-smash]

IIIIIIIIIIIII.....have an idea!! How about some reaction headcanons for Tokoyami’s cute, girly girlfriend changing up her style to a dark Victorian styled dress for him on their one year anniversary dinner date that she plans herself. Any ideas as to how that date would go? 😬

Yeeesss, you are a genius!

Characters: Tokoyami Fumikage/Tsukuyomi

Contents: fem!reader

Tokoyami Fumikage/Tsukuyomi

Fumikage has never tried to influence your style to fit his tastes, because he completely respects who you are and how you express yourself. If your tastes are at polar opposites of the spectrum, then that's fine by him. The only time it might be an issue is if you two move in together, but he figures you two can come to some kind of interior design compromise. When it comes to your clothes, however, he doesn't care if you're clean girl, cottagecore, coquette, etc.

When you told him that you wanted to plan your one year anniversary, he double-checked with you several times that you didn't organising everything, and told you to save all you're receipts so he could pay back his half of the expenses when the surprise was over.

Tokoyami Fumikage: gothic aesthetic, modern values.

He's surprised when a vintage black Cadillac pulls up outside of Hawks' office to pick him up after work, a uniformed driver sitting behind the wheel. Tokoyami ignores Hawks' teasing and climbs inside, his expression stoic even as his curiosity rises. Just what have you been planning?

Instead of taking him home or to one of the downtown restaurants you guys use for date nights, the chauffeured Cadillac glides up outside what appears to be an abandoned church. Its weathered facade is covered in climbing ivy, which sprawls across the cracked paving stones of the courtyard, and twines around the wrought-iron gates.

The gates stand open, as if expecting him. In the growing twilight, he can see flickers of light inside the church, painted jewel tones by the stained glass windows.

"Is this my destination?" he asks the driver.

The driver gives a solemn nod. As soon as Tokoyami climbs out of the car, it draws silently away, abandoning him to his fate. He starts down the overgrown path, wondering how on earth you found this place in the middle of Fukuoka.

The front doors creak open ominously as he approaches, and a bank of fog rolls down the steps, like someone rolling out an ephemeral red carpet to welcome him. Tokoyami's feathers start to stand on end.

"Dude, too much dry ice!" hisses a familiar voice. Kaminari?

"Sshh!" That sounded a lot like Kirishima.

There's the sound of a throat clearing, and then your voice calls out through the clouds of fog.

"Tokoyami Fumikage! I welcome you on this eve! The first anniversary of our dark union!"

Aiyo!?

Tokoyami stumbles to the top of the stairs, and finally his eyes behold the interior of the church. The old pews have been cleared away. Candles line the walls. and elaborate iron candelabras fill the gothic archways. A carpet of mist swirls across the floor, making the dinner table, draped in a crimson tablecloth and set for two, appear to float in the middle of the flagstone floor.

Bird boy can't quite believe what he's seeing. It's like something straight out of his favourite gothic manga. Or Castlevania.

"What is all this?" he asks, his tone almost reverent.

Footsteps echo through the cavernous space and his head whips around to see you emerge from the clouds of mist. Tokoyami's beak falls open, and even Dark Shadow comes creeping out to take a better look.

Black and crimson, velvet and lace, ribbons and ruffles. You're a vision of romantic, gothic elegance, like the tragic heroine of an Edgar Allen Poe novel or one of his favourite gothic manga.

"You..."

Words fail him for once, and all he can do is let you take him by the hand and lead him toward the table. More figures appear out of the mist, and he barely restrains a squawk when he realises it's Midoriya and Iida, both wearing waiters' uniforms and grinning. The 'waiters' pull out your chairs, bow, and retreat to fetch the first course.

"Is...everyone involved in this?" he asks, pitching his voice low, even though it echoes through the church.

You grin, looking very pleased with yourself and all the friends you've managed to rope into helping you with this dinner date.

"Yep. They were all very excited to help with our mad banquet of darkness."

AO3 | Other Blogs: Bungo Stray Dogs | Bleach | Naruto | JJK

[paulinet]

Bonus for waiting

Warnings: fluff, modern au, headcanons at some points, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - they/them, reader - she/her, but it came out relatively neutral. Almost.

Synopsis: failed dates lead to something more interesting than disappointment. Wouldn't you agree?

Word count: 2500≈

From the author: just a little sketch. It's nothing serious, but I like this AU(?). Suppose?? I had a good day and decided to write something to cheer me up, hopefully you too.

You may think there's a lot of unnecessary stuff here. That's the way it's designed, I think the atmosphere is there.

English is not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

You put on your shoes and shake any dust off your clothes one last time. Tearing around in front of the mirror, you examine your work and wink at yourself with a smile.

It's going to be a fun day!

You lock the door and run down the steps, almost jumping over one like a Shaolin monk. Finally, you step onto the floor and open the door, welcoming the fresh, hot air. Summer is in full swing, damn it.

As you walk along the paved path, turn your head to all the things going by. There's a couple walking with bags full of stuff in their hands, there's a mother buying her child an ice cream by the cart, there's a car passing by you with damn loud music. How is the driver still deaf?

The afternoon sun bakes your head and shoulders pleasantly, and you clutch the strap of your bag. You breathe deeply as you pass a flower bush. It's a good thing they haven't been cut down like those trees near the art school, leaving the walls all bare and unsightly. They could have stood for many more years!

You turn left and walk on the sidewalk again. You walk past a half-empty bus stop and hear children talking, playing some kind of game. They must be having a lot of fun after school and starting to relax on their phones.

You'd like to have fun today, too. Studying at the institute eats up all your time, but you also need to relax, which you're not very good at. You can relax for a while when you go to a dog shelter near your home. You buy some food and just go visit these cuties. It's a shame you can't afford to get one yet: you're not poor, of course, but you have a long time to save up.

At the beginning of the new school year, you met a cute guy when you lingered in the courtyard of the institute, rewriting notes from a fellow student, and now you've been socializing for a few weeks. Everything is going well, you can even call yourselves not just acquaintances but friends.

So he asks you out for a walk in the park. Just for no reason at all. To walk in the park, to eat ice cream, maybe to go somewhere else.

Not to say you have a lot of dating experience, but it's common to invite someone to the park to get to know them better. You didn't mind at all if it meant you could hang out with someone and enjoy yourself. Who would turn down a walk on such a beautiful day?

"I hope nothing spoils today," — you probably should have wished that beforehand.

The park, already familiar but still like new, welcomes you with painted gates and the noise of children running along the paths. Walk straight ahead and you'll see the hanging swings. They are already occupied by grandmothers and moms with strollers, ideal for those who want to relax. But unfortunately, this is not the place for you.

You go further into the park and do not even think of taking your eyes off the trees. Pine and rowan trees, and even the cherry tree - everything here welcomes you and disposes to a pleasant pastime. It's hard to turn down something like this. Even in the rain it is dazzlingly beautiful here.

The janitor is sweeping away the windblown sand and spruce branches from the paths, and you go around him to walk a little further straight ahead. You come to a bench.

The simplest bench, hidden in the large bushes at the sides. Wooden, with an ornate backrest and a garbage can next to it. Opposite it was another bench, just like it.

You sink down onto it with a sigh and let yourself relax. It's normal to be a little nervous, but it's worth it. This guy is very interesting to you-it's a sin not to at least try to be friends.

The phone in your bag vibrates and you see a notification from an online store on your screen. Something like "Faster! Hurry up! Don't miss out on hot as grandma's pie merchandise, 70% off!" Uh-huh, sure. The prices may be low, but they're still the same.

You decide to check your messenger notifications and make sure you got it right again. Yes, it's Saturday, the time is 1:49 p.m., and the meeting is scheduled for 2:00 p.m. sharp. You're in the habit of coming in early and giving yourself a break. It calms your nerves, and it's nice for the other person to see you there early.

You walk into your friend's chat room and involuntarily smile at her message.

Y/n, Y/n, listen! I found a cool restaurant near med university! in Korean style!!!

Read at 1:49 p.m.

There's kimbap, and kimchi, and there's even Dalgon candy!!!! Ya know, from the squid game?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

Let's go there next week? I can't this Sunday, I have to take my cat to the vet( And ya're going to the shelter next weekend?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

Pls?? Can you find the time?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

As you start typing your answer, you hear loud footsteps coming your way, but you don't pay any attention to it. Only when the footsteps stop in front of you do you decide to look to see who's there.

Your gaze is fixed on a boy (or girl? You honestly didn't give it much thought), looking around bored. They hands are in the pockets of their shorts, their hair is sprawled across they shoulders, and they bright yellow eyes are looking at the surroundings.

"Hey, was anyone here?"

You were so engrossed in considering their appearance that you didn't immediately realize it was you who was addressed. Startled, you smiled, and the shock went away.

"I just got here five minutes ago myself. But I didn't see anyone here."

"I see."

They sigh, sit down across from you, cross their legs, and cock their heads skyward. Now you sit across from each other, but on opposite sides of the benches.

You continue to stare at them, scrutinizing every detail of their appearance. Something seems vaguely familiar.

Exactly!

You remembered. You saw them a few times outside the dog shelter where you occasionally bring food. Very... It's hard not to notice them. Their behavior is quite out of character with a hundred people and more like the behavior of those four-legged friends you love.

"It's not polite to stare at strangers like that, like some kind of maniac," — you reprimand yourself and return your gaze to the phone.

Your friend's messages make you smile again. She's a nice person when she's not begging you for notes because she missed class due to a trip to the hospital. Her teeth need to be fixed, of course, but for some reason her absences fall on the days when the most information is taught. Then, while she's rewriting, you'll have to tell her what the words in your notes are.

Sure, we'll definitely go next weekend. What time is convenient for you?

Delivered at 1:56 p.m.

You hit "send" and suddenly notice the time. 1:56 p.m, but... You don't see anyone in the neighborhood. He's late?

Oh, well, that's all right. Maybe it's traffic, he's taking the bus to the park.

You put your phone away and lean back on the bench. You breathe in the same hot air, but mixed with the smell of the park. The sun scorches your back, and you close your eyes briefly.

Across from you, there's an incomprehensible noise.

And opening your eyes again you see stranger angrily munching on a chupa-chupa. They have placed their foot with the unlaced sneaker on the edge of the bench and have one arm around it, while they are staring off into the distance. You can definitely hear the crunch of that candy.

"They must be waiting for someone, too. Someone important," — the thought made you smile involuntarily. You're not the only one waiting for a person who is running late.

To brighten up your time a little, you decide to open an e-book. Waiting is waiting, but why not do something enjoyable?

It's some cheap novel you dug up off the internet. As usual, the heroine is mouse blind, rat stupid, but everyone spreads out in front of her like a red carpet in front of a celebrity in old cartoons. Typical, but... Okay.

It takes you a while before you finish the first chapter. It started off well enough for a book like this.

You check the time. 2:10 p.m.

And you immediately open a chat with a friend.

Hey, where are you? You late?

Delivered at 2:10 p.m.

You decide to check when he was online... Yesterday, 11:34 p.m.

...

He overslept?

You'd be lying if you didn't say you felt bad. You've been planning all this time, getting ready to have fun, and you've been so... Screwed up.

Did it ruin your mood? Honestly, yes.

But you thought you've been in this situation before. You'd be up late watching something and you'd be hard-pressed to get up. And if it's in the middle of the week...Ugh.

At exactly that moment, the phone vibrated.

Shit, sorry. I overslept because of a bunch of homework, I just got up. Pls wait a little while?

Read at 2:15 p.m.

I'll get dressed and call a cab!

Read at 2:15 p.m.

You're shining! It's okay if it's he a little late, right? You were so sincerely warned.

Okay, no problem. I'll wait.

Delivered at 2:16 p.m.

You turn your gaze back to your surroundings, and you are once again attracted to the person across from you. You didn't even hear them lie down on the bench, throwing their legs over the armrest. Only now do you notice they're wearing different socks. Cute.

"I wonder who they might be waiting for?" - A friend? A classmate? Maybe a sibling?

It's none of your business, but they look interesting. Especially their hair. White like that, rust-colored with black on the ends. They're sprawled out on the bench, and their bangs are pulled back, pinned up by their glasses.

The combination, surprisingly, reminded you of the spots on a dog, which was kind of cute. Strange how you always noticed their behavior at the shelter, but never noticed what they actually looked like.

But enough with the staring again. Waiting is waiting. One more chapter to go.

As time goes on, you finish chapter two.

Honestly, the novel is a bit bland, but it reads easily. That's a plus.

Yes, you're pissed off by characters, one of whom constantly neglects the other, but.... What can you do? It's the only thing you can get your head around.

You're distracted by a message.

Sorry, I'm indecently late. I'll be there soon!

Read at 2:38 p.m.

Can you wait a little longer?

Read at 2:38 p.m.

You're frowning. You've been looking forward to this day, of course, you wanted to get to know this man better, but... Is this how he's showing himself? It's not the nicest thing you'll find out about him.

You sigh and roll your eyes. Your mood's ruined, but... Last chance.

Okay.

Delivered at 2:39 p.m.

There's a resentment coming over you. You really wanted to walk in this park again, and it would have been more pleasant with someone else. What's stopping you from walking now? Well. You promised to wait at this spot. It's a big park, and you like to walk. If you leave, you're not likely to make a quick circle and come back.

You clutch your phone in your fingers and sigh.

"Waiting for someone too?"

You flinch when the person across the hall addresses you. Why are you being so skittish today?

"Yeah. He's late... A little bit."

They look at you closely, and now they're standing behind the bench, leaning against the backrest. No more chupa-chups, but they look annoyed. Kind of like a Chihuahua. They obviously talk to you out of boredom, and you keep the conversation going because of it. It's better than being bored.

"Judging by the look on your face, 'a little' feels like a long time. Are you sure it's worth the wait?" — they say it so casually, it makes your chest pound.

Is it worth the wait? Well, uh. Honestly, you liked this guy. Cute, kind, and you have interests in common, lots of them. You wanted to try it. That's why you said yes and that's why it took you so long.

Maybe he really is late. But now it seems like you've been putting up with it too long.

"I think I'll wait," — you smile and nod slightly, saying, yes it's nothing, and it doesn't escape their attention, it shows. Only they shrug and say nothing. Instead, they move away from the bench, starting to slowly circle around it, clearly not intending to continue the conversation.

You snickered.

"And you... Waiting for someone too?"

"Sort of," — they reply instantly, despite the demeanor.

"Is he late too?"

"Unfortunately for him, yes."

"Are you sure it's worth the wait?" — you decide to answer the same way, and for good reason.

They chuckle and turn their heads back to you. Whoa... They've got pretty sharp teeth. It looks ominous.

"Hey, no fair," — the indignation in their voice is beyond words. But it's not really indignation, it's just fake indignation.

"You started it."

They puff up their cheeks, but are clearly satisfied with the answer. They shrug their shoulders.

"It's a long way for him to get there. But that doesn't excuse this idiot's tardiness."

You unwittingly accept that about your situation. It doesn't justify your friend, but it's true that these situations do happen. So now we're supposed to hate everyone when they're late? That's not very nice either.

"And yet you're waiting for him?"

"What can I do? He owes me something."

Well, waiting for your debts to be repaid is also some reason to be here.

Suddenly you see them squint and stop. Now you've switched roles and now they're staring at you. Now it's clear that this can be quite uncomfortable. Take note.

"Hey, look, could I have seen you somewhere? You look so damn familiar."

Wow. They've you... Remembered you in some way? You didn't seem to stand out much. That's flattering.

"At the dog shelter. I bring food there often."

They blinked in surprise.

"Oh, really? And you're not lazy?" — you don't know if it was a rebuke or genuine interest. But on their part?

"No, not at all. I like dogs."

"Why don't you take one for yourself if you like them so much?"

"I can't yet. And I don't have a lot of money for a dog," — you shrug with a chuckle, and decide that's enough revelations for now. "When I get a chance, I'll definitely get one."

You smiled and decided to be the first to end the conversation, returning your attention back to the book. Hey, meet us, a cheap novel with lots of clichés!

You're drawn in, you don't argue. The way the main characters flirt with each other seems really hilarious. Only you were frustrated by one of the situations there, in which the man himself scheduled a meeting and decided to cancel it at the last minute. You were really hoping that wouldn't happen to you.

A new message distracted you from the growing strange feeling.

Not coming, sorry. No offense, have an emergency. Shall we do it another time?

Read at 3:08 p.m.

You're falling out. What the fuck do you mean, I'm not coming?!

Your lips are pressed into a line and your hand is clenched into a fist. So this is how you get repaid for waiting?!

Fuck you.

Delivered at 3:09 p.m.

You don't regret your rude answer. If that man was late once, he'll be late again. Couldn't he have just said he couldn't make it? Why did he feed you all these expectations? What are you, a seedling, to be fed with fertilizer?

You suddenly remembered that he was late for class many times. But those were five or ten minutes, not a fucking hour.

You were angry, if not more, upset. The anticipation of a good time washed over your eyes a lot.

"What, bummer? Not coming?"

The voice across from you sounds a little mocking, but you hear sympathy. Barely audible, but it's definitely there.

You lower your gaze.

"Won't come."

You spit out the words and clutch the hem of your skirt. You've wasted so much time sitting on that bench, watching people walk past you and reading a cheap novel. You could have been having fun somewhere else, by the way.

"Sympathize. You didn't have to wait so long."

You're frowning. The unsolicited advice starts? You pass.

"And who have you been waiting for an hour?" — you ask sharply, looking at the stranger reproachfully.

They are silent. Now they sit on the bench, digging into their phone and swinging their leg again. They are clearly very bored.

"Good question," — they look at you for a moment, and then somewhere off to the side. "Apparently that idiot isn't coming either. And he still owes me."

You want to roll your eyes, but you hold back. You don't want to take it out on someone who's right.

But it turns out you were wasting your time. You wasted your outfit, you wasted your makeup, you wasted your choice of places to go. You wasted a good day, and he ruined it.

It could have been a fun day.

...

In fact, why did he ruin your day?

The time is only 3:00 p.m with the thread. You're still pretty, dressed up, enthusiastic (albeit with a ruined mood), and now you're mad at your (non) friend who ditched you?

...

Have you no pride at all?

You stand up abruptly, the key chains on your bag jingling loudly. You don't know why you stood up so abruptly, but your emotions must have gotten the better of you.

You have to rub this guy's nose in it and have some fun!

And, apparently, your emotions took over your brain (along with your instinct for self-preservation), because you had an idea.

You take a quick step to the bench across the street. It feels like you should be sent, but there's nothing to fear today.

"Hey. Let's hang out?"

The blond's surprised gaze flicks away from the phone and pierces you from bottom to top. They look like a surprised puppy, to be honest.

"Again?"

"Let's go hang out somewhere. It doesn't matter where."

Your answer gives him a pleasant chuckle, and the toothy grin is back again.

"Hang out? Are you out of your mind from grief, offering that to a stranger? What if I came here on purpose to wait for the moment and drag you off somewhere?"

"I'll do it first, don't worry," — you smiled proudly. "I mean it. You've been ditched too, I take it?"

They push themselves off the back of the bench and tuck their phone into their pocket. They seem interested in you. Of course, for an hour you both sit there bored, exchanging a few words. Anyone would be happy with an interesting proposition.

"Well, not really. But we'll take it as such. So what?"

"Well, since we've been abandoned, let's hang out together. Let's not ruin our day."

They jump, put their hand on their knee and prop their head up. I think you're about to be teased pretty hard about this.

"What if I don't hang out with strangers?"

Now it's your turn to laugh. But is that a problem? You extend your hand to them.

"Well, so let's get acquainted. Y/n," — they look at your hand like it's something strange.

But eventually, they take your hand and stand up abruptly. Oh... they're quite tall. A head and a half taller than you. It seems different from afar... But you can't back down.

"And you're funny. Medicine Pocket," — they lean closer, and to your surprise they kiss your knuckles. You can almost smell the musk and the hospital. They're probably in medical university.

Warmth quickly rushes to your cheeks, and you're ready to swear that stupor is exactly the reaction they've been waiting for. And it makes you resent it a lot.

"And you're a strange one," — there was no denying that the mood got worse after that gesture. On the contrary, amusement flowed through his fingertips. "Want to go karaoke?"

"And I like you already," — the suggestion was to their liking, since they swayed slightly in your direction. The smile never stopped coming off their face. "Let's."

They nudged you lightly by the shoulders, giving you the direction you wanted, and then joined you beside them.

"Just so you know, I don't have a wallet today," — he said, either bragging or warning. You can still change your mind.

"I've got you memorized on your face if anything," — but who says you can't respond the same way?

"Is that a threat?"

"I'll find you at the shelter anyway. I'm sure they have your contacts."

"Hey, I'm starting to think you're the maniac," — you get a shove in the shoulder, and they walk with your back to the front, all the while keeping your gaze fixed on you.

"I can assume you're in medical university."

"Not because of my name, right?"

"Well, who knows, who knows..."

"...I get it, I get it. I can't even joke with you, can I?" — they're pouting, but you can see in their eyes they're enjoying the conversation.

"I take all jokes seriously."

"I take that back. You're mean," — Medicine start walking normally, but with his head held high. You have to catch up with them a bit and make an effort not to laugh.

"You don't like me anymore? I was just kidding."

"... Fucking joker. Fine, I'll pay for us."

"What are you, a gentleman?"

"I have to match today's outfit."

"But you don't have any money."

"That's right. I'll take your wallet and pay for both of us like a real gentleman."

You just can't hold back the laughter. Talking to them is just as much fun as watching from the sidelines. The mood is instantly lifted.

You don't know them at all. And going anywhere in fact with a stranger is very dangerous. But you've seen them many times at the shelter and you can make a bold assumption - they're a good person. Strange, but good. You want to believe that.

And you plan to have a good time with them.

This day is definitely going to be fun. You'll do your best to make it so.

I WANTED TO WRITE A LITTLE SKETCH- and I couldn't. I looked back and there's already 2k words chasing me. (ʘ‿ʘ)

I really wanted to make a lively narrative and I hope I did it... And I still feel like there's not enough detail or interaction between the reader and Medicine Pocket. I'm not a perfectionist but *cough cough*. Also, when you edit for a long time, you don't like the final result. It's me.

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading!