#I am not going to be getting over this for a long time

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware!Caleb x Down-Bad!Player

Caleb becoming self aware that he is in a game and now he's aware of you too ... that could be a good thing depending on how you look at it. A/N: Credit to @phoenixiaxia for Caleb becoming self aware when reader cries over Mias death and credit to @sylusdarling for yandere caleb getting jealous and straight crashing out over you talking to another man

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears your scream and immediately cringes at the sound. He freezes listening for anymore sounds thats when he sees you sniffling on the other side of a phantom wall. “I knew I should've just cut this game off!” He’s immediately suspicious who are you and where are you? Why are you crying over Mia’s death? Did you know her?

Self-Aware!Caleb who studies you in silence trying to gauge whether you’re a threat or not. His gaze flickers to you in the main story and it creeps you out for a second. “Is he looking at me?” you dismiss it because there’s no way it’s a game. He’s literally pixels.

Self-Aware!Caleb who interrupts your photoshoot with your MC and locks down the entire app so he can question you. “Who are you?” You drop your phone and scramble to pick it back up. “Me?” “Yes are you trying to hurt her?” “I literally made her” “You made her?” “I am her and she is me sir can I have my game back now?” he’s suspicious but intrigued

Self-Aware!Caleb who wants to spend hours just talking to you about MC “Do you think im wrong? Im just trying to protect her I want to keep her safe you know?” “You may be coming on a little strong she seems on edge with you” he finds himself coming to you for advice when it comes to MC and soon his questions of advice turn into questions about you.

Self-Aware!Caleb who can’t take his eyes off you when you’re doing a photoshoot. No matter what angle you set the camera or how many times you readjust him or even change the pose — his eyes stay locked on you “Caleb stop looking at me” “Are you scolding me for wanting to admiring you pip-squeak?” he replies playfully you freeze feeling your heart caught in your throat at his blatant flirting

Self-Aware!Caleb who loves how accepting you are of him. You answer his calls, you call him back immediately if you miss his call, you respond to texts fast, you find his protective nature endearing, you take his advice when he wants you to be safe. This is the kind of response he’s been craving and now that he’s got a taste ..... he can't let go of it.

Self-Aware!Caleb who feels a sudden need to take care of you. He finds a way to exist outside of just the LADS app. There he goes opening your apps and scrolling endlessly. “Hey! You can’t just go through my stuff like that!” “You’ve been spending a lot of time on this Tumblr app I just wanted to see what was so interesting” “Then just ask me don’t invade my privacy like this” “You’re right you’re right im sorry pip-squeak won't happen again” “Don’t call me pip-squeak that’s MCs nickname you know the love of your life” “Why do you think im calling you pip-squeak now?” he disappears back to the LADS app before you can question him.

Self-Aware!Caleb who wishes he could cook for you when you come home from a long day “If you’re ever in Sky Haven I'll make sure to cook you a feast worthy of royalty” you giggle at his words “Yea If im ever in Sky Haven like that would happen but I appreciate the thought” “Who knows it might be sooner than you think” he said ominously “What?” “Oh nothing I saved another recipe in your notes try it soon” “Okay I will....” “You will try it won't you?” His mood seemed to turn sour as he asked. You stared back at him confused “Yes Caleb I'll try it” his mood did a 180 back to his happy puppy mood.

Self-Aware!Caleb who stays on the phone until you fall asleep and calls you right before your alarm goes off in the morning “Just wanted to make sure you got up on time don't want you to be late” you can hear the smile in his voice “Thank you colonel apple I hope you have a good day” “It will be since I got to hear your voice first thing in the morning”

Self-Aware!Caleb who can't control his rapidly growing obsession with you. He starts tracking your steps, your calorie intake, your screen time, etc. he is documenting every little thing you do and say. “You’ve been home for four hours and you haven't come to see me yet? I'm hurt” “How do you know how long I've been home?” “Your phone has gps remember?” “Right….”

Self-Aware!Caleb who finds a way to leave the LADS app and hang out in any app on your phone so he can be with you 24/7 “Caleb I'm sure MC misses you when are you going back?” “Don’t worry about her when are you going home? I want to have a meal with you before bed” he may be fine, but his constant hovering is starting to cause some alarm bells to go off in your head.

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears someone flirting with you and repeatedly crashes not only the LADS app but your entire phone while he’s at it “Caleb stop!” after a few hours he finally allows you to turn your phone on “Who was that earlier?” “Someone I met while I was out with my friends” “Am I not more than enough?” “Caleb we’ll never actually be together why are you acting like this?”

Self-Aware!Caleb who nearly has a mental breakdown after you tell him you'll never be with him. "Tell me what to do then" his voice is frantic – his words almost jumbling together "I can be whatever you need just tell me I'll do anything" you try to close the app but nothing is working "Caleb we can't be together you're not real"

Caleb: B-but you’re mine! So I just need to be real? Thats what you want? I can do that! Y/N: I’m not yours Caleb we’re literally from two different worlds Caleb: You’ll love it here in Sky Haven .... right next to me .... forever Y/N: Wait a damn minute— Caleb: Just give me some time

You instantly felt your heart drop as your phone screen went black.

taglist ; @just-a-shapeshifter08

[hacash]

No, actually I'm not done with talking about Outie Mark and how well they've portrayed his grief on Severance, because the writers have done such a good job of showing that grief can be ugly and aggravating and painful and difficult to watch. Because Outie Mark isn't actually that fun to watch, a lot of the time! He's not soulful and romantic and dealing with his grief in a palatable manner: he's all hard edges and very dark humour! He cries loud and ugly! He picks fights! He's rude to his (admittedly aggravating) brother-in-law; he's a bit of a shit date to Alexa! He's very apathetic about what's going on at work, when quite frankly if he picked up the pace a little, we as the audience could find out more about what's going on! He has genuine substance abuse issues going on and spends a lot of his screentime just lying in a stupor in front of the TV! He's a compelling character but he's not fun to watch!

And I love how they've done this deliberately - I think the fact that at times the writers have been deliberately making Outie Mark deliberately hard to watch, at times because of his awkward humour and at times because he just is trying to avoid doing anything, and that's a deliberate choice because of his grief! The reason he takes so long to get shit done is because this man is literally paralysed by the grief he feels for his dead wife! He is so emotionally disconnected from the world that he spliced his brain clean in two to get away from the pain! He's choking on her ghost! Of course he's not eager to give himself the hope of believing she's alive only to go through that pain all over again!

(Also why the fuck did he of all people have to tell Gemma's students about her dying? Where the hell is that college's HR department.)

And it's not that Outie Mark is an unlikeable character, I'm really enjoying his arc at the moment, but I think they've made some really deliberate tweaks to show just what grief can do to someone and I am loving that they've deliberately made it ugly and painful to see.

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[my-castles-crumbling]

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

-

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

-

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.” And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

-

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

-

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

-

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear. 

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

[bloodnight-blaze]

“ kiss me under the mistletoe! ”

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, and sylus w a gn!reader.

synopsis: the holidays are long over, but that doesn't stop you from hanging up a mistletoe as an excuse to kiss your boyfriend.

notes: listen.... listen okay.... i can't wait until december to write this i have to get it out now.... lengths of each section may vary but i tried to keep it to an 8 paragraph maximum.

warnings: canon is vague so you decide, inaccurate timing of mistletoe i guess, very short and sweet and self-indulgent, just a lot of fluff and a lot of kissing, reader wears lipstick in raf's part bc i am desperate to cover that man in lipstick stains, zayne is a menace, sylus is also a menace, pet names used: cutie (r), sweetie (s).

XAVIER — is very confused when he wakes up from a nap to see mistletoe dangling in his face. Last he checked, it was the middle of January so he's fairly certain he didn't sleep the entire new year away. Though, it's not something that's entirely out of the question.

Behind the mistletoe he saw your smiling face, and you pull the plant away from him as he sits up, planting yourself right next to him and looking at him expectantly.

Xavier knew what the mistletoe meant, he just didn't quite understand why you were using it now, weeks after Christmas.

You don't seem at all concerned by the timing of this, just smiling at his confusion and raising the mistletoe up a bit as you speak, "This is the part where you kiss me, y'know,"

And while he might have some questions, he's never been one to deny you what you want.

A small huff of amusement, and then he's leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. You eagerly kissed back, barely able to contain the giddy smile on your face when the kiss breaks.

The smile on your face, coupled with the look of satisfaction in your gaze has him pulling you onto his lap, pressing a few more quick kisses to your lips before he's burying his face in your shoulder and letting out a small sigh.

His heart felt so warm, and even though he just woke up from a nap, he wouldn't mind falling back asleep like this. Which is exactly what he plans on doing, by the way, so any plans you had after your silly little idea are immediately canceled.

ZAYNE — would pretend not to notice it at first. He's not being mean, he just thinks the little frustrated pout you get when he acts like the mistletoe has always been there is cute, so he can't help himself. He's also curious to see just how far you'd go to get a kiss from him without having to ask.

It even becomes a game, of sorts, with Zayne sometimes acting as though he'd finally kiss you when standing under the mistletoe only to instead pat your head or press a kiss to your cheek.

You took his teasing as a challenge, and soon enough you somehow hung up mistletoe in all of the doorways in both your home and his. You even went as far as to hang one in the doorway of his office at the hospital.

A few of his coworkers had questioned him about it, and he couldn't stop the look of fondness that bleeds through his usual calm and collected demeanor, simply telling them that it wasn't any of their concern.

It all coalesces one night, maybe two or three weeks into trying to get a kiss under the mistletoe with him. He showed up at your apartment with dinner only to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, all the mistletoe you had put up set in a pile. Your arms were crossed, and you were glaring down at the plants as if they'd insulted you in some way.

"I give up," You say, a bit dejected. And Zayne feels a bit bad, admittedly, as he sets your dinner on the counter next to all the mistletoe. He doesn't really understand why you're trying to get an excuse to kiss him when you can just do it, but he'll humor you.

With a small sigh, he grabs one of the mistletoes and dangles it above your head. It's enough to get you to perk up, and you brighten immediately when he presses a kiss to your lips. It was quick, and when he pulled away, he mutters a soft, "Satisfied?"

"Hardly," You exhaled, but he covered your mouth with his hand before you could kiss him again, his lips quirking up in a slight smile at the frustrated sound that comes from you. You weren't getting anymore kisses until you ate dinner, no matter how pretty you looked with your puppy-dog eyes.

RAFAYEL — probably wouldn't even realize you had put mistletoe in the entryway of his home. At the very least, when he does notice it, he'll be far more interested in figuring out what shades of pant he could make with the plant rather than anything else.

You can't say you're shocked when you hurry back to his place after running a quick errand to find him crushing the mistletoe. You curse yourself for not buying a backup in case this scenario happened, but there wasn't much you could do.

That doesn't mean you were any less determined, however. The mistletoe may not longer be a plant, but it was in the paint he was making, and therefore the rules still applied, so.

Deciding to be patient, you would wait until Rafayel actually used the paint to make your move. The painting hung on his wall proudly when it was finished, a satisfied smile on his face as he watched you admire it for a few moments, "So? Would you say this is my new masterpiece, cutie?"

And you feign deep thought for a moment before you pull him down into a kiss. It wasn't heated, but it did last for a good second before you pulled away. Bewilderment in his eyes and a pretty blush dusting his ears and cheeks, you smile and simply nod to the painting on the wall, "Mistletoe."

It takes him a few moments to process your word, and his brows furrow slightly, "It's not even December," He says, though he certainly wasn't complaining when you pull him in for another kiss.

You kiss him until his face is covered in lipstick stains, and your lipstick was smeared. His breaths came out in small pants, a dazed look in his eyes when you finally pull away.

"...You're trying to kill me," He quietly accuses after catching his breath, and you can only laugh.

SYLUS — is rather amused when he steps into your apartment to see a thing of mistletoe dangling in the entranceway. He knew you were planning something from the moment you told him to stop by your place.

His amusement only grows when he sees you standing under the mistletoe, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible as he takes his jacket and shoes off. He doesn't need to ask questions, he's not a fool.

The mistletoe was there for a reason, one so glaringly obvious he couldn't help but feel a bit smug knowing that you were trying to find sneaky ways to kiss him. He was flattered, truly, but you didn't need to go to such lengths.

His hands were on your waist in an instant, and you don't miss the gleam in his eyes as he looks at you. Oh, he was never going to let you forget about this moment, and you were half tempted to pull away before he could get the chance to actually kiss you.

His lips capture yours before you can actually distance yourself from him, and it was much more gentle than you were probably expecting it to be. He kissed you like a man dying of thirst, and yet he controlled himself enough to not make you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to use a plant to kiss me, sweetie," He murmurs against your skin after breaking the kiss, instead taking to pressing light kisses against your jaw and neck.

The attention had your mind faltering for just a moment, and you grumble out a quiet 'whatever' before lightly pushing him away from you. You had to cover his mouth with your hand just to get him to stop kissing you. Not that it worked, because he just presses one against your palm, his gaze never leaving yours.

You're the one who wanted a kiss, even going as far as to bringing out mistletoe in the middle of January to achieve your goal. He's just simply giving you what you were asking for.

[moonpjs]

[07:24 PM] 18+ minors dni

Imagine Mark coming back to your place after a long day of work, feeling tired but horny at the same time. Simply asking you to ride his face.

Imagine him practically begging for you to go along with it after hearing you were tired too. But insisting that this is all he wants and he doesn’t even need anything in return.

Imagine him lying on his back, admiring you as you swing your leg over him, now hovering above his face. Mark immediately grabbing your hips, encouraging you to sink down onto him.

Imagine him groaning into your pussy, knowing that you’re using his face to get off. With your clit bumping his nose at every move of your hips, moans slip out of you as his tongue moved perfectly in all the right places.

Imagine him pulling you closer and closer, trying to get as much of you as possible. Hearing a muffled “mhm” every time you ask if he’s okay, worried you’re gonna suffocate him.

Imagine gripping his hair when you start to feel close, moans growing louder. You watch his eyes flutter close, as he enjoys every moment, getting increasingly turned on at each second. Especially when you cry out “I’m close!”, arching your back from the pleasure.

Imagine Mark licking up all your juices after you come, savouring the taste and keeping you in place. Unaware of how overstimulated you’re becoming.

“Please stop,” you pant “It’s too much”, finally catching his attention. He releases the grip on your hips, letting you go.

“Sorry” he chuckles as you move off of him and sit beside him, taking in the sight before you.

The view of his face covered in your juices had you weak all over again, now craving more. Though you remember what Mark said, he didn't need anything else. But it wouldn't hurt to return the favour, right?

a/n - Hi people! Just wanted to say that I am happy to take requests, so feel free to drop an ask. I will probably put together some rules for what you can request and what to avoid. But for now, just be mindful! Also thank you for the love on my first post, I appreciate it <3

[robertsfloyd]

Present

oscar piastri hasn't presented yet. everybody around him has, you have, but he hasn't. there he is, stuck feeling all too human. until your heat begins, that is

there is, like, no f1 abo so here i am 😭

warnings: 18+, abo dynamics (no smut but, like, what if we did a part 2? 👀)

oscar piastri was a late bloomer. a very late bloomer. he should have presented by now; everybody else on the grid had. but no, here he was at twenty-three, still not presented.

some said it was a blessing, to not have those instincts clouding your judgement while on track. the amount of times he had seen carlos sainz nearly crumble to his knees from the whiff of an omega, or lando nearly present himself because an alpha in pre-rut walked past.

a blessing, yes, but also a curse.

every new person he met spent so damn long sniffing him out, trying to work out what he was. "beta?" they normally suggested when they couldn't figure it out.

oscar would have to shake his head and admit that he hadn't present yet. he didn't know if he was an alpha, a beta or an omega. but he just wanted to get on and race.

he didn't care what he was.

even you had presented. you, his best friend, his good luck charm. the person he took everywhere he went.

the day you presented, oscar couldn't help but feel shitty. you presented at eighteen, your omega scent sweet. but that was according to everybody else. he didn't know, wouldn't know, until he presented.

"you would be so cute as a pair of omega's," somebody said to him once. an older guy, an alpha, somebody you worked with. it stirred at bad feeling in oscar's gut and had him begging you to leave your job. predatory, that was the word.

the more oscar looked, the more he saw of that in your workplace. alpha's getting too close to get a whiff of your scent, pushing your hair out of the way to attempt to get to your scent gland. the way you squirmed away from their touch, retreating towards oscar.

just how protective he felt around you should have been a dead give away.

but he would have been protective over you, no matter how he presented.

each and every one of your heats had been spent away from him. it was because he was always surrounded by so many alphas, you said to him. you could hide yourself in your room, keep yourself safe as you rode it out.

preparing for a heat with you was something oscar had gotten good at. getting you snacks, sugary, electrolyte filled drinks to get you through your heat, making sure you had the things you needed to nest.

"i wish i could have stuff that smelled like you in my nest."

but oscar didn't smell like anything. until he presented, he wouldn't smell like anything. no matter how much you tried to bury your face against his neck, against how hard you tried.

you were pretty good at tracking your heats, making sure you wouldn't join oscar at a race weekend when your heat approached.

but not this time. this time, you seemed blissfully unaware as your heat approached. maybe something had happened, something to distract you. no, you would have told oscar if something had happened.

he was your best friend, after all.

it was wednesday, media day. you had flown in with him the day before, set yourself up in your hotel room, just beside his own. everything seemed to be normal.

but then a sweet scent filled his nostrils. pastries, honey, wild flowers. whatever it was, it was so fucking sweet, going straight to his head.

several of the men around him, several of the alpha's around him, had the same reaction, eyes blown wide as they searched for the source of the scent. but oscar remained composed, continued with what he and lando were filming.

you waited behind the camera, holding your stomach. as soon as they got a little break, he was standing in front of you, holding your elbows. that sweet scent just grew all the more intense.

"i don't feel good, osc," you mumbled, staring up at him.

your eyes were blown wide as you held your cramping stomach. oscar breathed in, the scent making his head swim. but he shook his head, cleared his thoughts and wrapped his arm around you. "come on," he said and led you away. "lets go lie down."

a whine left your lips as you followed him. fuck, it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. he had heard you whine before, but it was never like this, never had his grip on you tightening.

it didn't take oscar long to realise that the smell was you. pastries, honey, wildflowers. he stopped himself from leaning close to your scent gland and getting a proper whiff.

you sat down in his drivers room. god, you looked so sweet sitting there, still holding your stomach with your eyes wide and far away.

oscar dropped to his knees in front of you. "i can..." he stated. he breathed in deep, his eyes shutting. "shit, i can smell you."

you chewed on your cheek as you looked down at him. your nose twitched as you leaned forward, breathing him in. falling to the floor with him, falling into his arms, you pressed your nose against his scent gland.

"fuck," you squeaked, your nails digging into his shoulders. "alpha."

alpha.

the way you whined the presentation unlocked something within him, tore an animalistic growl from his throat. alpha. alpha. alpha. your scent deepened, crying out for him.

oscar's head fell forward. his nose against your scent gland, getting drunk on you. all of the media day stuff he had to do, it was all forgotten as he sat in his drivers room, holding you.

fuck, you were in pre-heat. and he was in pre-rut.

because he was an alpha. your alpha. and you were his omega.

[holybibly]

Nothing too fancy, my sugar bunnies, just a little treat for you. Or, Seonghwa's oral fixation hasn't gone anywhere and these photos are occupying my thoughts too much.

You felt as if it would never end. Seonghwa had been eating you for hours, licking, sucking, and lapping your sweet, juicy pussy as if his life depended on it. At first it had been incredibly pleasurable, the hot caresses of his long, slippery tongue and the softness of his lush lips as he French kissed your cunt. But now you felt almost numb, as if your legs could fall off at any moment.

Hot pleasure coursed through your exhausted, weak body like weak jolts of electricity as you felt another orgasm approach.

"Seonghwa, please... I can't take it any longer..." You whimpered weakly, wriggling on the sheets and trying to close your legs.

Hwa growled low, digging his fingers harder into the soft, juicy flesh of your thigh, effectively ending your pathetic attempts to escape his touch as he continued to assault your tortured, swollen clit. His sensual, plump lips close around the flushed, sensitive bud. He smacks it deliciously and massages it aggressively, squeezing the little bundle of nerves tightly between the plush petals of his lips.

Your eyes roll up in pleasure mixed with pain as Seonghwa roughly sucks your clit into his hot, wet mouth and starts sucking on it like the most delicious thing in the world.

"Hwa... please, this is too much...'

All Seonghwa can do is let out a grim chuckle before he lifts his head and looks up at you. He looks completely fucked. His mouth is swollen and glistening, smeared with your slime and saliva, his siren eyes heavy and unfocused with lust, seductively half-closed with thin, fluttering eyelids, and a hot, dark pink blush spreading across his beautiful cheeks.

"That's it, angel, be a good girl and come for me one more time. You can do that, can you? Seonghwa purrs sultrily before he inserts a long finger into your tight, oozing hole.

"It's too much... Aaaaaa~' You sob, throwing your head back and moaning loudly as he bends his finger inside you, hitting your G-spot instantly as he continues to lick you, greedily licking up the sweet essence that flows from you.

You thrash around in the sheets trying to get away from the sweet insults to your clit but Hwa growls again and slaps your thigh hard, successfully calming you down.

Your body begins to shake as the knot of arousal tightens in your stomach, the searing heat of pleasure spreading through your veins with every movement of his fingers and tongue.

"Seonghwa~ ah, fuck!" Hwa pushes two more fingers into you, stretching you even further than before. The tender edges of your hole are burning, but even so, you feel how more of the sweet mucus squirting out of you as Seonghwa's fourth finger pushes into you.

"God, you look so hot just like that, baby." He moans in a low voice and licks his fuckable lips. "But that's not enough for me." Seonghwa adds before he starts to fuck you with his fingers at a fast pace and with such force that the headboard of the bed slams into the wall. "I want your squirt all over my face, angel. Fuck, I am in need of it so fucking much."

"Ah~ Ah~ H-Hwa, baby, slow down!"

Ignoring you, Seonghwa continues to finger fuck you as he hot sucks on your clit, now and then nipping at it gently with his perfect teeth.

"Oh my God, Hwa... I'm going to cum!" You squeal and pull furiously at Seonghwa's long, silky hair. Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers, restricting his movements as you try to keep him inside. "I can't stand it! Please..." Tears stream down your cheeks, your hips shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy squirts profusely, covering Seonghwa's face and neck in clear liquid as he continues to swirl his tongue between your fluttering folds.

Your body falls limply onto the bed, your stomach clenching in the aftershocks of your orgasm as you feel Seonghwa slowly pull his fingers out of you and replace them with his tongue, sliding it into your fucked hole and tracing the smooth, warm walls of your sensitive cunt.

You try to pull away, your legs moving tensely to break free of his grip. But Seonghwa slaps your inner thigh again, whispering hotly into the wet softness of your pretty pussy.

"We're obviously not finished yet... since you can still move, angel. You're going to give me one more orgasm, and then I'll think about giving you a break."

All you can say is that you're in for a long night.

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Not gonna lie, as a kid, I did NOT realize how much basic algebra and basic geometry would be involved in adulthood. All those word problems that you HATED as a student? They are preparing you to think your way through REAL SITUATIONS.

Real life word problems I have solved (or watched my dad solve, because he's very good at "let me show you how to do this Adult Stuff, so one day you can handle it on your own"):

I am preparing to retile the bathtub/shower in my bathroom. If the area is [measurements] on two walls and [measurements] on the other wall, and the tiles are [measurements] and come [number] in a box, how many boxes do I need? Does this include border tiles, which are [measurements]? Does this include cutting some tiles into two, where I need less than half a tile? How much will this cost? Do I need to keep the receipt to return extra tiles? What other materials do I need to prepare the wall for tiles, and how many of them do I need?

I want to make a cute knit hat. I have picked out a stitch pattern, a yarn type, and the appropriately sized needles. Using these, 5 repeats of the pattern is [measurements] and my head is [measurements]. Also, the border pattern that I want to use is [measurements]. How many repeats do I need to make for the hat to fit around my head? How many rows long should it be to cover the top of my head and down over my ears? When do I start decreasing for the top of the hat (where it goes from a tube to a circle)? Or do I start from the top and keep going until it's the right length? How do I adjust the pattern to account for the increases (top-down construction) or decreases (bottom-up construction) while I'm forming the top of the hat (the circle part)? If the pattern was written for flat knitting (back and forth) and I'm knitting in the round (always start rows on the right), do I need to adjust the pattern for that?

I want to follow a pre-written pattern for a fitted garment, BUT the test swatch I knitted came out the wrong size for the needles I used. Do I change needle sizes or rewrite the pattern [See process above for writing a knitting pattern.] If I change needle sizes, what size should I try next so I hopefully have to knit the fewest test swatches? Do I *like* the way that the pattern looks when I change needle sizes, or are the stitches now so loose that it's worth changing to a thicker yarn (test swatch was too small and bigger needles look bad), a thinner yarn (test patch was too big and smaller needles/tighter needles are hard to work with) or rewriting the pattern?

I am going to build a small wooden ramp for my new shed. What are the relevant local building codes? How long does my ramp need to be to reach from the door of the shed to the ground (which may be sloped) while keeping the appropriate slope? Am I using the gentle slope for handicapped access or the steeper slope for utility access? Is the ramp so long that it needs a level platform in the middle? How much space will this add? How many supports do I need? WHAT KIND AND HOW MUCH LUMBER DO I NEED TO BUY FOR THIS PROJECT? See also: screws, screw bits, support brackets, etc. How much will all this cost?

I want to reorganize my bedroom. What furniture do I have? Am I adding or removing any? What measurements do I need to take so I can make a small model of my room, doors, windows, electrical outlets, etc, and furniture? If I am doing this with graph paper, what scale am I using for "inches to graph squares" and what size does everything need to be? When I'm ready to move everything, what order do I move the furniture so that my largest pieces don't get trapped somewhere awkward?

If I also want to PAINT my bedroom at the same time, how do I move furniture so that I can reach the walls while doing the least rearrangement for heavy pieces? Do I have space in other rooms to temporarily move things out of my way, or do I have to keep most stuff in my room the whole time? How much stuff can I declutter and get rid of before I start?

I want to start a new embroidery project. What materials will I be using, and how much of each will I need? Can I use the things I already have in my Craft Stash, or do I need to make a run to the craft store? How big will the finished project be? Do I want to frame it (this will require extra fabric around the edges for mounting, plus the framing materials) or sew it on something as a patch (this will require a seam allowance and possibly backing fabric for the patch, like stabilizer) or embroider an existing item? What new techniques or skills do I need to look up and learn before I start?

I want to put organizing bins in my pantry cabinet. The shelves are [measurements]. Many of the cans and boxes that I want to organize are [measurements]. Of the organizers available, what size should I look for and how many will I need? Do I want everything one size, or do I want some larger or smaller for different things that I'm storing? How much extra effort will it take to set up and maintain this system, and am I willing to invest that effort - not just at the start, but as an on-going basis?

At work, we keep track of how much product we produce, the materials we use, and the waste that we had. (This helps for tracking "what does it cost to produce each item, including labor" which is important for budgeting. Unfortunately if management is obsessed with maximizing profits NO MATTER WHAT, this can lead to process changes that are REALLY ANNOYING.) If I have 5 rows of boxes plus 3 extra boxes on a pallet, and each box holds 12 items and each row holds 7 boxes, how many finished items are on the pallet? If I have 2 finished pallets (12 items per box, 7 boxes per row, 16 rows per pallet) PLUS that partial pallet at the end of the shift, how many items did we make that shift? If we threw away 68 lbs of material during the shift and there are 3.36 items per lb of material, how many item's worth of material did we throw away? What was our percentage of waste for the shift? (These ARE realistic numbers!) How much total material did we use during that shift, and when will we need to order more? If there are three production lines on the shift, all making different items and using different materials, how do we track everything? Are there any changes that management can make to make production more efficient? (More product produced, less materials and time wasted, less machine downtime for mechanical or user error problems.) How likely are those changes to drive experienced workers away, and is the cost of finding, hiring, and training new employees to a similar level of skill so high that we should NOT make those changes?

Word problems are EVERYWHERE when you're an adult, and half the trick of solving them is recognizing that they exist, and then figuring out what questions you need to ask to solve them, and what info you need to answer your questions.

One thing they don’t tell you about sewing is that it is actually ironing

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling. 

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[woso-story]

Bad Driver

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was a crisp Friday evening, and the anticipation of date night had you buzzing with excitement. Alexia, your longtime girlfriend and the love of your life, was getting ready in the bedroom while you paced the living room. The plan was to drive to your favorite restaurant, where you’d made reservations days in advance. Usually, Alexia drove her sleek Cupra, but tonight, you felt a spark of rebellion—you wanted to drive for once.

When Alexia emerged, radiant in a fitted blazer and her signature confidence, you smiled and said, "Babe, I’ll drive tonight."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You? Drive?" she asked, her tone light but her expression anything but.

“Yes, me. Why not? You always drive. Let me take the wheel this time,” you replied, grinning.

But Alexia didn’t hand over the keys. Instead, she shook her head with a nervous laugh. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

Confused, you stepped closer. "Why not? It’s not like I’m a bad driver or anything."

She hesitated, her gaze darting away. "It’s not that. I just… prefer to drive myself, that’s all."

Her response only deepened your suspicion. You crossed your arms and gave her a pointed look. “Alexia, you’re a terrible liar. Just tell me the truth.”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. After a long pause, she finally muttered, barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re the best driver.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

She winced, clearly regretting her words. "It’s not a big deal! It’s just… every time you drive, I get a little nervous."

“Nervous?” you echoed, bewildered. “Why would you be nervous? I’m a good driver."

Alexia bit her lip, as if debating whether to continue. Finally, she said, “Well, you’re often over the speed limit. And you’re late on the brakes… like, really late. Sometimes I think we’re going to hit the car in front of us. Oh, and there was that time you drove over the curb and scratched my rims. Twice.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You noticed that?”

She gave you a sheepish smile. “I… might have had them repaired. Twice.”

Her confession hit you hard. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed how nervous she felt. The thought that she didn’t trust you to drive her car made your heart sink. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Alexia said softly, stepping closer. “You’re amazing at so many things, mi princesa. Just… maybe not driving.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn’t land. You felt embarrassed and hurt, retreating into silence. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, the usual easy conversation replaced by an awkward tension. Even dinner felt different, with you picking at your food and Alexia watching you with worried eyes.

---

The dimly lit restaurant, usually your haven of laughter and love, felt muted. Alexia’s gentle attempts to pull you out of your shell failed to break through. Her jokes felt forced, and her compliments only deepened your self-consciousness. As dessert arrived, Alexia reached across the table to take your hand. "I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention."

You nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "I know. It’s just… hard to hear."

As you left the restaurant, Alexia stopped you by her car. “Here,” she said, holding out the keys.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re driving us home,” she said, her tone firm.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not doing it now."

“I had a little too much to drink,” she countered, giving you a small smile. “It’s up to you now.”

You hesitated, suddenly suspicious. “Was this your plan all along? Get me to drive so you can complain about how bad I am?”

Alexia laughed, but her expression softened. “No, I just want to show you that I trust you. You’ve got this.”

With a sigh, you took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. The drive home was smooth, largely because you were hyper-focused on every move—checking mirrors, braking early, and staying well under the speed limit. Alexia’s amused glances didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re doing great,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

For the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of pride. That is, until you reached the garage of your apartment complex. As you turned the corner, Alexia shouted, “Careful!” but it was too late. The screeching sound of metal against concrete filled the air.

Your heart sank as you parked and got out to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the rim was scratched—again. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Alexia. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the repair this time.”

Alexia walked over and pulled you into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, mi amor. It’s just a rim.”

“But I ruined it… again,” you mumbled into her chest, tears streaming down your face.

“Shh,” she soothed, stroking your hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re perfect to me, rims and all.”

---

Back in the apartment, Alexia made you tea and held you close on the couch. Slowly, your embarrassment faded. She didn’t try to fix the situation with words; instead, her steady presence spoke volumes. The warmth of her embrace and the rhythm of her heartbeat calmed you.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

She kissed the top of your head. “Always. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, snuggling into her.

After a few minutes of silence, a laugh escaped you. Alexia tilted her head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

“I always wondered why you never let me drive,” you said, grinning. “Now I know.”

She chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re the perfect passenger princess, mi amor. Let me drive you wherever you want to go.”

Smiling, you nestled into her embrace, the tension of the evening finally dissolving. With Alexia, you knew you were safe—in love, in life, and yes, even in the passenger seat.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Buck's at the grocery store buying his umpteenth bag of flour when he sees a very familiar silhouette waiting in line at the cash.

Tommy.

Three months apart and now they finally run into each other?

At two am at the closest twenty-four grocery store Buck could find? When he's dressed in a pair of holey sweatpants and a stained hoodie with dirty hair and a face full of scruff? No cart! Just him and his twenty-pound bag of flour that he's cradling to his chest like a powdery security blanket?

Amazing.

Awesome.

Fucking perfect.

Exactly how he's pictured it.

As Buck gets closer though, his eyes narrow at the sight before him.

Not at all like he's pictured it.

Tommy's shoulders curl inward as he hunches over his cart, head low. His threadbare shorts hang off of him in a way they never would have three months and one day earlier. His feet are shoved into his shoes without socks.

Tommy hates going without socks.

His curls have grown long and messy, lying limp against his scalp.

Buck carefully sidles up beside him, not quite in his field of vision yet, frowning at how pale Tommy's skin is. Practically grey.

He looks like shit.

For one whole moment, Buck wishes he could feel some kind of vindication—gloat, maybe—but he doesn't have the energy.

Or the heart for it.

And one glance into Tommy's cart has him refocused on being incandescently enraged over the bullshit currently sitting in there.

"What the hell, Tommy?" Buck bursts out, making the man jump and whirl around.

"Ev—Buck, what? What are you doing here? What's—what's happening right now?" Tommy stares at him, wide and unblinking, like he's afraid to take his eyes off him.

"What's happening is I'm saving you from this cartload of crap," Buck says, elbowing his way past him to gain possession of the cart.

He shifts the bag of flour to one arm and uses his free hand to pull out the package of bakery donuts that somehow manage to look cracked and soggy all at the same time.

Then the box of cookies that he knows for a fact taste like they're one step away from cardboard.

Then the cake that says 'Happy Birthday, Leo!' and has a seventy-five percent off sticker on it. He side-eyes Tommy for that one.

Tommy makes a face right back.

Buck keeps going, pulling out the lemon loaf that doesn't actually look too bad, but whatever—his is better.

Everything of Buck's is better than this crap.

...Tommy just doesn't know that yet.

"Just stop! For one second." Tommy reaches out to grab Buck's wrist before he can grab the package of—gross—bran muffins. He takes a deep breath before he finally meets Buck's eyes.

"What is this?" he asks again quietly.

"Me, actually stopping you from making a mistake this time," Buck says, yanking his wrist back with a scowl. He falters for a second when his own words register in his brain, but he shakes it off and grabs the muffins out of the cart, dumping them beside the cookies. "This stuff is all terrible. You deserve better, Tommy."

"It's what they have," Tommy said tiredly.

"Yeah, well, I have better stuff at my place." Buck sets his flour down in front of the unimpressed-looking cashier. "Sorry about that," he says, digging out his wallet. "We'll just take this. And these."

"Oh, I'm allowed to keep the oranges?" Tommy rolls his eyes as Buck grabs the bag out of the cart and places them alongside his flour.

"For now," Buck snips back.

Maybe he'll make an orange loaf.

Right after he convinces Tommy to come back to his place and he feeds him edible baked goods and—and maybe they talk and...

Yeah.

This isn't a half bad plan.

He can work with this.

"Just the flour and the oranges," he says to the cashier, pulling his card free as he flashes a grin at Tommy. Feeling it spread wider when the corners of Tommy's mouth twitch reluctantly in return.

He can work with this.

[thepoliticalvulcan]

I think I see the nuance here and agree.

I don’t get any joy from suffering. I am bitterly resigned to the idea that since we have failed to learn from history, we’re going to have to have a lot of people find out the hard way why our society, inadequate as it was for protecting rights and distributing our shared resources, is arranged in such a way as to at least try to empower people who get a raw deal and establish some bedrock minimal standard of fairness and safety.

So when people “find out” there is satisfaction there. Not joy, just satisfaction because sometimes these things are learning experiences. I do not believe in accelerationism because I do not believe in any sort of reliable natural laws of history and human behavior at scale, I just recognize that anything good about our society was often born in pain and anger directed at the right sources. We often target the wrong sources in pain and anger, but over a long enough period of time with enough repetition surely people will figure it out. Right? Right? Sigh.

I do actually care marginally about the guy in that reddit screenshot who voted for Trump and is now worried that he might lose his medicaid funding because I did not fucking stutter when I said healthcare is a human right but the people losing their internships and job offers to the hiring freeze are straight up hilarious.

[jobean12-blog]

The Best Worst Day Ever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: You're having a shit day but then you see a dog and things start looking up...

Author's Note: We love a soft and sweet Bucky and dogs and bookstores and cookies and kisses- so here we are! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️The two bookstores I mention can be found here (Spoonbill and Sugartown) and here (Albertine Books). Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: a cute dog, Bucky saves the day (a few times), cookies, soft fluff, building tension, books

“You will not believe the day I had.”

You practically sigh the words into the phone, feeling at least slightly better at the sound of your best friends voice.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

You start to recap your shitty day but a large fluff of black fur across the street catches your eye.

“Oh my god…,” you start, completely derailing your previous thought. “There is this giant black dog across the street. I have to go pet it.”

Your best friend laughs, “of course you do,” and you can feel yourself start to form a real smile for the first time today.

“I’ll call you back,” you tell her.

“You got it,” she answers, not even questioning your behavior.

You start to cross the street, giving a quick glance in both directions before breaking into a jog. You’re just about to call out to the old man to ask if his dog is friendly, when you hear the screech of tires.

Your heart drops and your body instinctively reacts but all you feel is the whoosh of air that whips past you and a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

For a few long seconds you simply breathe, clinging to the solid warmth of whatever is holding you up.

“Are you ok doll?”

The voice is soft but deep and you look towards it, blinking against the bright sun, wondering for a moment if the car hit you and you’re dead and in fact, now in heaven.

Your fingers dig into soft leather as you stare at one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“Am I dead?”

Bright blue eyes peer down at you, the corners lightly crinkling at your question. His gaze wanders over your face, his expression seeming to waver between awe and concern.

“No, I’ve got you. But are you ok?”

His words draw your attention to his mouth. Blinking again and trying to clear your head you finally manage to answer him.

“I…I don’t think so…I just wanted to pet the dog.”

His perfect lips curl up into a teasing smile and you have to drag your eyes away to focus on his blue ones. But the fact that you’re pressed against his solid chest and encased in the warmth of his arms does nothing to help your concentration.

With a slight tremble you start to sit up, but he doesn’t release you from his hold. He just moves with you and helps you to stand.

Once he feels you’re steady enough on your feet he removes his hands but stays close, clearly not convinced you’re fine.

You let out a shaky exhale and smooth your hands over yourself.

“That was so scary.”

You can feel the warmth of tears spring to your eyes and your vision starts to blur. He reaches out a gentle hand and places it on your arm.

“I’m sure it was. And while we could stay here I think it would be best to get out of the middle of the street. Why don’t we go sit?”  

He points to the bench on the sidewalk where the old man with the dog stands and watches.

As you approach the old man asks, “it’s a good thing this young man was here to save you. I could never move that fast.”

You glance at the “young man,” and he extends the hand that doesn’t have a secure hold on your arm to greet you.

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“Thank you Bucky,” you say and then give him your name.

“Is she ok?” the old man asks Bucky.

“I think she’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says with a reassuring smile.

Bucky helps you onto the bench and as the dog moves closer, tail wagging, you blurt out in a rush, “can I please pet your dog?”

“Sure,” the old man says. “She’s very friendly.”

“What’s her name?” Bucky asks, as he kneels down to put his hand out for the dog to smell.

“Luna,” the old man replies, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You reach for Luna, letting her smell you before scratching her ears and leaning down to press your face into her soft fur.

Your focus stays on the dog until your heartbeat returns to normal, the conversation between Bucky and the old man lingering quietly in the background.

After a few more steadying breaths you thank the old man and Bucky helps him to stand, watching as he takes slow and small steps away from you, Luna in tow but still looking back at you.

Bucky stands and offers you his hand; strong and slightly clammy, and sparks fly, a curious look flitting across his stunning face as you both react to the touch. You fix your gaze on him and finally give yourself a chance to look. Your heart starts to crash against your chest all over again. You just sit there, staring.

He’s tall and the soft henley he wears beneath his leather jacket is fitted so that you can see the outline of the muscles in his chest. His eyes are the most beautiful blue, and the stubble covering his strong jaw does nothing to conceal the handsome features beneath it.

He smiles softly and for a moment you think you see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your obvious examination. He’s still holding onto your hand, and suddenly, seeming to come to his senses, he releases it and smooths his palm over his hair and then the back of his neck.

You feel a flush of heat move through you.

“You’re sure you’re ok doll?”

You nod.

“She should probably eat something.”

At the old man’s gruff voice both you and Bucky startle and turn to see him standing just a few feet away, a knowing smile on his face. Obviously, he didn’t get very far.

“He deserves a date for savin’ your life there young lady.”

With a decisive nod he dismisses you and Bucky and calls to Luna to finally continue on his way.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you look back up at him from your seat.

“Food?” you ask quietly.

“Let’s go,” he answers, his easy smile returning. “I know just the place.”

The butterflies stay firmly planted in the pit of your empty stomach and you stand so abruptly that you teeter forward and into his arms again. He catches you with two hands splayed at your waist and the urge to bury your heated face against his chest is overwhelming.

“I’m really having a day,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy I’m here to help.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

He falls into an easy stride beside you and a huff of laughter falls from your lips before you say, “I can’t believe I almost died trying to pet a dog.”

“I get it,” Bucky says, throwing you a wink.

You’re careful with your footing, still somewhat shaky from the whole ordeal but when your attention turns back to Bucky, his eyes trailing across your face, seeming to linger on your mouth before lifting to your eyes, you stumble, your foot catching a crack in the sidewalk.

He grabs your bicep to steady you, and you groan. “Shit, you must think I’m hopeless.”

“That person’s driving skills having nothing to do with you,” he assures you as he gently leads you toward the restaurant. “And everyone likes to pet dogs…or at least they should.”

His voice is gentle, and you avoid his gaze, his hand still curled securely around your arm as you come to stop outside the restaurant.

He only let’s go to open the door and usher you in with a soft press of his hand to your lower back.

The flutter of butterflies that you keep trying to ignore are back in full force and when Bucky stops at a table and pulls out the chair for you the gesture has you feeling faint.

You must be starved.

With a monumental effort to relax you sit back in the chair and cross your legs. His gaze automatically flickers downward and be visibly swallows before quickly looking away.

There’s a definite blush on the tops of his cheeks now.

“The pizza here is really good.” His voice sounds extra rumbly, maybe even a little hoarse.

You pick up a menu and start to fan yourself without even thinking. “I’m sure it is.”

“Do you live close by?” you ask him.

“Just a few blocks away. I’m here all the time.”

Before you can ask any more questions, an older woman appears beside your table with a beaming smile.

“Barnes has finally showed up with a girl!” she sings. “And a beauty at that.”

You hide your giggle behind the menu and peer at Bucky.

“This is Millie,” he says, his smile wide. “She owns the place and loves to bust my chops.”

You introduce yourself, delighted and Millie’s warmth.

“Are you having the usual?” Millie asks Bucky.

He nods and looks to you.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” you tell Millie.

“I like her already,” Millie says before rushing back off to the kitchen.

Bucky sits forward, his arms crossed in front of him and now that he’s taken off his leather jacket there is more of him to admire.

His blue eyes are focused entirely on you, and you try not to blurt out your thoughts about how nice his biceps looked in his shirt so instead you clamp your mouth shut and look around the cozy space.

You fall into easy conversation and when the food comes the silence is comfortable while you eagerly eat it, not realizing how hungry you really are.

After your stomach is full, Bucky pays the bill, even after you offered several times, pleading with him that you owed him at least that after saving your life.

He waves you off and hands Millie the cash then holds his hand out for yours.

At the feel of his skin tension immediately springs between you, and you scramble to think of something to say.

He beats you to it.

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

Grateful for the distraction, you reply, “well, I usually spend my Saturday afternoons at this little bookshop in my neighborhood.”

“Is it Spoonbill and Sugartown?”

Your eyes widen and light up.

“YES! You know it?”

“I do. I used to go all the time. Haven’t been in a while though. I love the smell of the old books.”

A rush of attraction sweeps over you like a wave and your hand squeezes his.

“You could meet me there tomorrow? If you’re not busy?”

“Yeah. I’d love that,” he says, grabbing the door and holding it open so you can exit the restaurant.

“Which way are you?” he asks, still holding your hand.

You point right toward Bedford Avenue.

“Come on, I’ll walk ya home doll.”

“Is it out of your way? I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

He chuckles before leaning down to press a quick, surprising kiss to your cheek.

“Nah, it’s not and I really don’t mind.”

You are in love.

Inside the old bookstore, with its vaulted ceilings and shafts of light pouring through the skylights, you stare at the rows and rows of bookshelves.

Through the aisles there is something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting and antique Tiffany lamps and various knick knacks that make you smile. Reading areas are set up in breaks between the shelves, tables with chairs so people can lounge, read, and drink their coffee and eat their desserts.

You let out a contented sigh. On purpose, you arrived a bit early, hoping the familiarity and comfort of the store would calm the persistent butterflies that have taken up a permanent residence in your stomach since your literal run in with Bucky.

As you’re falling deeper under the spell of the leather lined bindings and dusty-smelling pages a soft voice calls your name.

You look up and see Bucky standing at the end of the aisle. He’s dressed casually but different from yesterday, his dark jeans fitted to his muscular thighs and his black tee shirt showing off those perfect arms and chest.

He steps closer and greets you with another kiss to your cheek, this time, closer to the corner of your mouth.

You close your eyes briefly, inhaling his scent and steadying yourself on your feet. Before you can actually swoon to the floor you tell him about the expansion they recently built in the back with a rush of enthusiastic words.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the new section, practically running.

Laughing at your overexcitement, he squeezes your hand.

“You’re very cute.”

When you turn to look at him, something in his eyes makes your skin heat and you have to look away again, but not before you give him a thankful smile.

You expect him to let go of your hand once you reach the back, but he doesn’t.

“Have you ever been to Albertine Books?” he asks.

You stop and think.

“No, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it.”

“It’s easy to miss,” he explains. “It’s inside the French Embassy and has mostly French language books and translations from French into English, but it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” you say with uninhibited joy. “Will you take me there sometime?”

You’re too busy deciding which part of the expanded bookstore you want to show him first to see his expression, but you hear the affection in his tone when he replies, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, doll.”

Your heart flutters.

Your hand gets clammy, and you gently pull it away, trying to use the shelves and the books lining them to refocus yourself.

He stays with you, content to watch you peruse the bindings, moving from bookshelf to bookshelf.

The book titles quickly become a blur as your awareness zeroes in on one thing, one person.

Bucky.

You feel the warmth of his presence, hovering at your back, and feel the heat of his gaze on your face. The skin on your cheek tingles and you can still feel the press of his lips.

Your breathing grows shallower as his fingertips brush against the small of your back, a gentle touch, but searing through your clothes.

Busy frantically pondering how to navigate the chemistry you share; you don’t realize the book you halt in front of until it’s too late.

A romance novel with a couple in a sexy position on the cover.

Just perfect.

His fingertips press deeper against your lower back, and then you feel the whisper of his lips on your ear as he comments, “interesting choice.”

You make the mistake of turning your head toward his and find his nose just inches from yours.

Your eyes lock for a second before his gazes drops to your mouth. Your body sways slightly toward his, and he takes the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolts you away from Bucky, whose mouth had just been millimeters from touching yours.

“I just…want that book.” An arm reaches between you and Bucky, and dazed, you look over to see a woman. She seems unfazed by the fact that she clearly interrupted a moment, and you grab the book for her.

She gives you a thin lipped smiled and darts away.

After a second or two of staring after her, you finally draw up the courage to meet Bucky’s eyes.

His cheeks are pink again and he’s rubbing his palm on his jeans.

Looking over his shoulder you spot the coffee and dessert counter.

“Ooh!” you say, hurrying towards it. “Let’s get a cookie!”

Bucky follows and you turn to him, smiling through the awkwardness.

“You have to try the double chocolate chip.”

He bends down to peer into the display case. Your eyes meet, and just like that you’re too close for your body to handle. You swallow hard.

“It’s delicious. And the chunks of chocolate are gooey.”

His eyes are trained on your mouth as he murmurs, “maybe we should get two.”

“Good idea. I can eat a whole one easily on my own. We might even need three.”

You sound breathless.

“Hm.” He’s not even listening to your words at this point. His focus is on your lips, his eyes are hooded, and he is definitely going to attempt to kiss you again.

“What can I get for you?” the worker behind the counter asks, smiling brightly when the two of you jerk your heads up.

“Four double chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky blurts out, then follows with a soft, “please and thanks.”

Once you have your cookies in your hand you head to one of the back tables and sit, stuffing nearly the whole cookie in your mouth.

It’s so good that for a moment you forget yourself and moan around the bite.

Bucky clears his throat, and you lock eyes. His reaches across the table, his strong fingertips gripping your chin, and he bends his head toward yours. He halts when he’s close enough that you can see the patches of gray in his beard and feel his warm breath fan your cheek.

With the softest brush of his calloused thumb, he wipes away some chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Had a little chocolate smudge right there,” he whispers.

You slowly nod and your tongue darts out to lick your lips. His eyes track the movement, and he releases you, biting into half of his own cookie.

“These really are amazing,” he says around the mouthful.

You nod again, too flustered for words.

The two of you eat all four cookies and despite wanting to distract yourself with more you leave the bookstore and let him walk you home once again.

When you stop outside your building you fiddle with your hands and look anywhere but at him.

“I had the best time,” he says, drawing your attention.

“Me too,” you say quietly.

“When can I take you to Albertine Books?” he asks, as he takes a tentative step closer.

“Tomorrow?”

It’s a hopeful question. One you couldn’t stop yourself from asking even if you wanted to.

“I’d love that doll.”

A deep tug low in your belly makes you bite your lip. You love the use of that endearment and after spending most of the afternoon so close to him you’re nearly at your wits end.

His gaze fixes on yours and his jaw tightens at whatever he sees in your expression then he closes the distance and slides his arms around you, his hands coasting slowly up your back.

He lifts a hand to your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your soft skin and splaying his hand to draw you closer.

“If someone interrupts us this time…” he says, tone full of warning but still teasing.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even notice if there was a dog nearby for me to pet,” you say with a smile.

He laughs and bumps your nose with his.

“Not even a dog huh?”                                                                                   

You shake your head, and your eyes start to close as your hands grasp the front of his shirt. You feel the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touch yours. And when they do, it’s barely a brush, a hot, glancing touch.

Your fingers close more tightly around the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to really kiss you. You’re desperate for it.

Another whisper of a of kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on your lower lip. A whimper escapes you.

It shatters whatever restraint he’s grounded himself with and his hand splayed at your back hauls you against his body as his mouth presses to yours.

You open your mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbles through you. The tickle of his scruffy jaw is rough in the just the way you’d hoped it would be and when you feel the slide of his hands down your back, the smooth strength of him under your touch, you completely melt into the kiss and the rest of the world fades away.

[sirxlla]

Sorry - Halsey (Batboys)

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

Dick: "and never really understood, the way you laid your eyes on me in ways that no one ever could."

To everyone, Dick was always put together. He was a rock, never broken, never sad or angry, just perfect. It was so far from the truth. He felt lonely, angry, and depressed.

This time of year was so taxing on Dick, he had started having nightmares about his parents and that night of the fall. Usually, this time of year, he breezed through it without so many nightmares, but this year was hell. He saw the fall over and over, and his blame for himself came back with a vengeance.

"No. No! No- No- Nononon! No!" Dick woke up with a start, sweat pooled in every crevice having dampened his shirt and pillow. Of course, he woke you up as well, and you went into comfort mode, rubbing his back.

"Hey...I'm right here if you need anything." You said with a soft whispering tone so as not to spike his heart rate more than it already was.

"What if it's my fault? What if it all is? What if everyone's gonna get hurt because of me?" Dick placed his head on your chest and started sobbing as you rubbed circles onto his back.

"Honey, as long as I've known you, I've known that as long as you draw breath, you'll help as many as you can...You'd give someone the shirt off your back and the shoes you were wearing just because they asked. You're an amazing person, and the world is so much better because you're in it. I don't want you to think any differently about it." You rubbed his back as his tears made the silk of your pajama shirt stick to your chest.

"I'm sorry." He wiped his eyes and sniffled. "I shouldn't be crying, everyone sees me like-"

"Hey, I don't give a shit how everyone sees you, and I would never think less of you 'cause you're brave enough to show me how you're feeling. Okay?" You look into those cerulean eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

"I am so proud of you and no one here would ever be disappointed in you, Honey." You hug him as he nuzzles into your chest and calms down a bit until he falls asleep, you rub his back until you fall asleep with him. His drool is now the only thing dampening your sleep shirt.

Jason: "I've missed your calls for months, it seems, I don't realize how mean I can be."

You had been calling him over and over, and he would read it; you could see he did. He was just ignoring it. He had disappeared into what felt like thin air. Had you done something wrong or was he in one of those moods of his where he thinks he's not good enough for anyone?

He's sitting alone in some hotel room in Central City. Jason left everyone alone; he needed some time to sort himself out. He knew that rule about how you have to love yourself to love anyone else, and right now, he couldn't stand the sight of himself. You didn't deserve his bullshit, you didn't deserve his demons that are drowning him alive.

You have sent his messages daily since he disappeared into the blue.

7:36 A.M. Jan 14th - "Everyone loves you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

3:59 P.M. Jan 16th - "I miss you bunches." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

2:12 A.M. Jan 17th - "Just stay safe for me? I'd be in pieces if anything happened to you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

8:36 A.M. Jan 19th - "Sorry forgot to text yesterday, I've been so tired, but I still miss you every moment you aren't here." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

5:26 P.M. Jan 20th - "Dinners always ready for whenever you come home. I promise." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

1:41 A.M. Jan 22nd - "Tokyo misses you, he meows by the door constantly. Please come home, our family misses you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

10:38 A.M. Jan 23rd - "Jase, please. I can't sleep well without you. I don't know what's going on; please explain." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

11:37 P.M. Jan 24th - "Jase, Please come home. I'm sorry for whatever I did." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

He read the texts. What you did? You did nothing. He realized how stupid and selfish he was being, such an asshole. His fingers typed before he could fully decide what he wanted to do.

"What did you do? Babygirl, you did nothing wrong. I'm coming home, I'm sorry I've just been so stupid about everything recently. I've been worried I'm not enough but I realize I can spend forever getting closer to my idea of perfect for you until you kick me out or my heart stops beating. I'm sorry and I'll be home soon."

You had cried yourself to sleep that night, and you were so exhausted you hadn't seen the text. Tokyo started meowing, and it woke you; you checked the clock, and it was 3:53. You had only been asleep for a few hours.

"Tokyo, go to bed. He's not here." You cry into your pillow, your face is swollen, and your eyes still red from crying earlier.

"I am, Babygirl. I'm so sorry." Jason saw your face and how sad you were; his heart felt heavy in his chest, and he was angry at himself for hurting you so deeply. You didn't know what to do, so you stared at him as he crawled over to you and hugged you. It had been a hard week without him and him hugging you is what finally broke you. You sobbed into his chest, holding onto him tightly.

"Don't you ever do that again, You Asshole!" You sobbed angrily, hugging him tightly as you breathed in the smell of smoke that lingered on his skin.

"I promise, I never will. God, I'm so sorry. I'll spend forever apologizing for this. I'm so fuckin sorry." Jason heard the sadness in your voice and held you tighter til you both fell asleep.

Bruce: "Sorry I could be so blind, Didn't mean to leave you and all of the things that we had behind."

Being Batman and trying to be a billionaire on top of it just really didn't give him the time to be in a relationship. You knew this, and you tried your hardest to make sure that he never felt bad about it, but it doesn't mean that it didn't feel like shit every single time you wanted to do something with him or you had something planned and he had to change it.

Not only does this include dates and evenings and dinner but it was also sometimes that he was just so exhausted he would fall asleep in the middle of whatever you had planned anyways, it sucks.

You love him so deeply, but he's so busy all the time, and you're trying to give it the benefit of the doubt and just hope that, at some point, you'll come first to a degree. You held out for so long, but after a while, you just couldn't do it; you left.

Alfred noticed the note on the counter; if it had been Bruce, he wouldn't have noticed it for weeks.

"Master Wayne, I believe this is for you." Alfred hands the note to Bruce as Bruce is just about to go back out as Batman.

"Dear Bruce, My Love,

This has to be one of the hardest decisions I've ever made but I know it's the only option that I have where I don't feel guilty for taking up your time."

He started reading and then noticed the marks where tears had damped the paper as he continued to read.

"I would never ask you to put me over the people in Gotham. I know why you do what you do,, but it doesn't make it any less hard when I barely see you, and then when I do, you're covered in bruises, and you can barely get out of bed. I can't do this anymore. I love you, and it pains me so much to do this. I can't live a life where I feel so alone; it feels like I'm dating a ghost. I know that in my heart of hearts, I cannot handle this, and I know a child definitely can't. I'm pregnant and I'd rather do this alone than make you feel guilty for not being there or make myself feel guilty for staying. I love you, and I don't want to try to change you; I know what you do, what you do. I'm sorry, My Love.

Sincerely & Yours Always"

He finished reading the letter, and his heart dropped. You were pregnant? When? When did that happen? He should have known.

"I want you to see about Mr. Fox taking over my role in Wayne Enterprises. I'll still own the company the same, but I'll have more time." He asks Alfred; Bruce knows that this is something he should have done a long time ago. He's been missing you anyway, but now he is about to miss out on you for the rest of his life, and he is about to miss out on his kid.

Not even a few days pass before Bruce finds you, he's drenched in rain in civilian clothes. The rain just enhances the smell of his cologne. He looks even more tired than he usually does. It's clear he hasn't slept.

"I will do anything you ask just please don't leave me." He asks you as you open your door and in his hands held your favorite flowers. Bruce's eyes glanced down at your belly as you pulled him in to get him out of the rain, you were showing. He cursed himself in his mind. How could he even have remotely not noticed, considering how far along you are?

You grabbed towels from your hotel bathroom and began to dry him off.

"I let Lucius take over my job at Wayne Enterprises, so I'll have more time for you,, and I promise I will have more time for you, and I'll have more time for a little one. God, can't believe I didn't notice all the signs were there. How's everything been going?" He asks as his hands hover over your belly, asking for silent permission, which you allow when your hands guide him to your tiny bump.

"It's been okay; sleeping's been a bit rough, this mattress is like concrete, and the morning sickness is a bitch, but overall, I'm okay." You told him as his hands moved themselves under your shirt to feel his hands closer to the growing baby.

"Are you planning on coming home? I- I know we usually sleep during most of the day but I- I really wanna be here through this." You could hear the vulnerability and his voice something that rarely ever slipped to that degree.

"I- Yeah... I really didn't want to do this alone either just left because I didn't want you to feel bad."

"Sweetheart, I will never make you feel like you have to do anything alone again if I can help it." His hands still gently rubbing your belly.

"Well, we're definitely not going to make it home tonight, not in this rain, and I still have the room for the night."

He nodded, and the both of you laid down to watch whatever was on TV; it had been a long time since he had felt anything this domestic or 'normal.' It was so nice and calming, something he now had time for so much more with you.

Tim: "But I still know your birthday and your mother's favorite song."

Breaking up was never something either of you wanted to do, but you wanted to go to school in the U.K. that has always been a dream of yours ever since you were a kid, and Tim would never be the type of person to hold you back from your dreams even if it meant he'd get hurt.

At the start, the two of you texted all the time, and you'd show him things all the time, but slowly, he stopped responding, so you stopped texting. He couldn't bear the thought of not being with you, but he had responsibilities here in Gotham; he couldn't just go.

"Hey, Numb Nuts. I asked you a question." Jason prodded as he finally got Tim's attention after what felt like forever.

"Huh?" Tim was confused; he was so in his head that he didn't even remotely hear what Jason said.

"I said, 'Why are you so doom and gloomy?' You're moping around the place like your puppy died." Jason had noticed how low Tim had been for the last month; he thought it might have to do with you, but you left six months ago.

"You not gettin' any more texts from your girlfriend?" Jason asked a bit cheeky but it was clear that concern laced the tonality of his voice.

"No, I stopped responding. I don't wanna make her feel like she has to respond to me." Tim mumbled.

"I know you're not stupid, so why are you acting like a dumbass?" Jason stated with annoyance in his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're being a dumbass. You know she loves you and you're ignoring her? Why the hell didn't you go with her anyway?"

"I have responsibilities here-"

"No, fuck your responsibilities; there are plenty of people who can take over for whatever you're doing. You get your ass on a flight and go to her before I beat your ass." Jason stated as he grabbed the laptop out of Tim's hands and started booking a flight.

"Go pack, you're leaving in an hour."

"Who's leaving in an hour?" Dick stretched as he walked in.

"Tim is, he's going to see his girlfriend."

"No, I'm not. Guys, I have things to-"

"Yes, you are." Jason and Dick both cut him off. Dick rushed Tim to his room and started helping Tim pack before he could even begin to process what was going on.

Jason texted you, "I have a surprise, go to the airport at 10:30. Don'tt be late."

In your mind you thought 'Aww, Jason's so sweet. My best friend's gonna meet me here.' So you responded.

"Will do. 🫡"

Several hours passed and you arrived at the airport looking around at baggage claim for Jason. He was a bitch bitch, hard to miss. You kept looking around when you spotted Tim and your heart lept in your chest, running over to him and hugging him deeply.

"Oh my god!" You squealed to his suprise. He thought you mightve moved on but hpw you were acting made it clear you hadnt. His arms squeezed you. After the hug you grabbed one of his rolling bags and helped him to your car.

"Oh my god, it took me so long to learn to drive on the other side of the road..." you started rambling and telling him all about your trips and every little detail as you drove him to your flat. His eyes followed every detail on your face, he wasnt even listening just in awe of you. Tim realized just how much he missed you, he broke out of his trance as you lead him inside.

"I bought everybody stuff, I have a box for Jason and Damian and Bruce. I am so exvited for everyone to get their stuff, its gonna be so fun..." Each box had different stuff that interested each of them, you had a box for Tim too. You still remembered everything even though its been six months. His heart swelled at how sweet you are and he just kissed you right there which interrupted your new ramblings. You shoulders fell and your hands found Tim's face as per normal abd the both of you realized home isn't a place, its a person.

Damian: "And so it seems I broke your heart, My ignorance has struck again"

He had another gala to go to for some charity event; besides, this was something his father demanded he do. It wasn't like he had a choice, did he? He's been Wayne Enterprises' new CEO since his father retired; he's been sucked up in events, meetings, and planning.

Although he had a lot on his plate it was no excuse for how distant he was being. Damian knows the date or at least he should. If this relationship is as important to him as it is to you he'll know the date. Your anniversary and this wasn't one of those little petty short ones or some shit. This was five years.

You decorated the apartment, lit candles, wrapped presents, decorated the bed with rose petals, put on music, and even made dinner and his favorite dessert. You were so excited and so proud of yourself, it took you all day while he was at work to do so.

The only reason you weren't at work is that you took it off for this reason. You thought he'd take a day off, too, but it's okay. He didn't cause you had time to surprise him. You paid for everything yourself, you didn't wanna constantly have to borrow money from him, and it was always good to have a rainy day fund.

The front door alarm chirps, letting you know he's home, and your smile grows larger. He remembered! Oh, you were so excited but that excitement faded when he just went to the bedroom? Confusion filled your features. 'What?' You followed him to the room.

Damian was quickly stripping out of his work suit into an expensive one he uses when he has to go to galas.

"Hello?" You asked all dolled up for him.

"Have you seen my blue silk tie anywhere?" He asked, not even remotely noticing the petals or how you looked.

"No, I haven't seen your fuckin tie." Snapping at him but he just rolled his eyes and didn't notice. He quickly got dressed, sprayed himself with cologne, and made his way out the door again.

You felt your heart get crushed in your chest, he might as well have carved it out and stomped all over it. 'He can remember the date for the gala but not our anniversary?' You sat there and sobbed, it's been the same date every year for the last five years. You ate dinner alone, cleaned everything up, blew out the candles, and raked the petals half hazardly into the trash.

A few candles got accidentally left out, having forgotten to drain the bathtub, several petals still lined the floor, and the presents were still left on the table.

You showered yourself and washed off the makeup that felt like it took you hours to get right, the red lipstick staining the washcloth and your lips. You quickly changed and crawled into bed, alone.

Damian showed up at the apartment hours later, he knew you'd be asleep. The galas ran long so why the hell would you need to stay up and wait for him?

He was starving; the galas didn't serve much food. The only thing you could get in abundance at a gala was alcohol, and Damian never wanted to dull his senses like that, so he didn't drink. He went to the fridge, noticing his favorite food; he put some on a plate and heated it in the microwave, making sure to stop it before it beeped so he wouldn't wake you.

He moved over to the dining table that was covered in presents, and as soon as he saw them, his heart fell into his ass. 'The 18th? Shit! I- Fuck. It's our anniversary, God Damn it.' Damian was tempted to run into the room and apologize but what would it do? It would just wake you up and that would be even more rude on top of him being a jackass already.

He ate his food and cleaned up the rest of the apartment. He needed to figure out an apology quickly. 'How could I be so stupid? Wait, that cake in the fridge said 'Marry me?' She- she wants to marry me. God, I feel awful.'

He didn't know what to do to fix this, he could make some sorta big grand gesture, but those always felt like trying to gander sympathy points, and he wasn't gonna do that shit. Damian was gonna be a man and admit how shitty of a person he is. He would just make you breakfast and apologize, take all the blame 'as one should when they're a jackass'

You came out of the room the next day, your hair messy, face puffy, eyes red, lips still stained fromnthe red lipstick, in your robe with your headphones on. You noticed he wasn't beside you and figured he pulled an all-nighter, and you went to wash your face and get coffee.

You pull out the contacts you forgot to take out last night, you rinse your eyes and throw the contacts out, putting your glasses on before going to get coffee.

As soon as your hand reaches for the coffee pot, Damian's hands find your hips.

"Uh uh, you go park yourself right over there. I'm a jackass so I'm doing anything and everything for you today. Okay?"

"Damian, it's just a date on a calendar." You tried to just brush it off.

"It's not just a date on a calendar, it's everything, and I'm so sorry. I'm not going to sit here and make excuses, I forgot because I was so wrapped up in work. I disregarded the only thing that matters in the entire world to me because I got wrapped up in stupid shit that doesn't even remotely matter as much as you do." Gently grabbing your face and looking into your eyes, the redness and puffiness had gone down but lord did his heart skip a beat to see you in those glasses.

"Now, we can't do it over necessarily, but I'm cutting my work hours. They will be designated for five hours, and then the other three or four will be crime-fighting or whatever else I have going on, and the other fourteen will always be yours. Obviously, you'll have more on vacation days or sick days or days; I just don't want to go to work. I promise you my time whenever you need it even if it is during work hours. I would be content with losing everything else but you, okay?" He continued as he kept gazing into your eyes, and you could see the level of anger he had for himself and how sympathetic he was to help you; you could see the pain in his chest that originated from him hurting you.

"Okay." You sniffled and a few tears fell down your face.

"Also, I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you want to marry me, I'll do it right now; we can get engaged and plan the most beautiful wedding ever. Whatever you want, it's yours, and if I can't get it, I will find a way." He said as he wiped your tears from your cheeks. You pulled him into a hug and nodded; he wasn't off the hook; hell, you'd let him off the hook before he ever let himself off of it. That was one thing you loved about him when he made a promise; he stuck to it, and there was no one more disappointed in him right now than himself.

Masterlist

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.