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honeyscara · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1

Geum seongje love masterlist | Whc masterlist

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You watched in silent horror as Seongje’s gang closed in on the poor guy. His glasses lay cracked on the concrete, one lens shattered, the frame bent awkwardly like a broken promise. His phone screen was spiderwebbed with cracks, and every time he screamed for help, his voice was swallowed by the distant city noise—and the crushing fear that kept everyone else frozen in place.

No one dared step in. Crossing Seongje’s gang meant crossing him—Seongje, the cold-blooded leader who ruled the streets with an iron fist, backed by the infamous Union leader Baekjin. The threat was unspoken but crystal clear. So the crowd simply parted like the sea, leaving the bullied boy alone, dragged limply toward a shadowed corner.

Your heart pounded, chest tight with a mix of fear and something fiercer—an instinct to protect. You stepped forward, the urge to intervene pushing through your usual quiet shell, but before you could take another step, your friend grabbed your wrist firmly.

“Don’t bother them,” she hissed, eyes flickering nervously between you and the gang.

“How can I not? That poor guy… please,” you whispered, voice trembling, your fingers tightening around your glasses as you tried to steady your shaking hands. You weren’t the brave type—never the one to speak up or draw attention—but this felt different.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” your friend warned, voice low but urgent.

You yanked your hand free, brushing past her like a gust of wind. “I have to do something. At least something.” Without another word, you turned on your heel and hurried after the group, heart slamming against your chest like a frantic drumbeat.

They disappeared into the school’s old club room, the door creaking ominously as it closed behind them. You paused for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat, before slipping silently after them. Your phone was already in your hand, screen lit and camera recording.

From just outside the door, you pressed your back flat against the cold wall, trying to steady your breath. The dim light inside flickered overhead, casting long shadows that danced menacingly across the walls. The muffled sounds of punches and grunts seeped through the door cracks.

The bullied guy’s desperate pleas echoed softly, “Please… stop…” but the thugs ignored him, their voices rough with menace and cruel laughter.

You held the phone steady as best you could, the screen capturing every moment—the clenched fists, the terrified face, the trembling hands. But just as you thought you had enough evidence, you switched off the phone and took a small step backward, ready to retreat and get help.

Then a shadow loomed behind you.

“…What’s this?” a low, dangerous voice sliced through the air, cold and sharp like a blade.

You froze, your stomach twisting as you slowly turned. Seongje stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and calculating as they landed on the phone in his hand. His presence was overwhelming—powerful and dark, like the calm before a storm.

“I-I… un…” Your voice cracked. You instinctively pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose, trying to make yourself seem smaller, less of a target.

Seongje yanked the phone from your grip and looked at the video. He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with cruel amusement. “Didn’t know you were like that.”

You opened your mouth to plead, to explain, but before you could get a word out, the door behind you slammed open.

“Boss, we—” one of his goons stepped in, but stopped abruptly when his eyes locked on you and the phone in Seongje’s grip.

Seongje’s voice dropped even lower, dripping with menace and disdain. “This bitch was recording you guys.”

The words hung heavy in the air, cold and unforgiving. You swallowed hard, heart pounding louder than ever, caught in the eye of the storm you had just walked into.

Seongje’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, sharp and unreadable, but there was something almost amused lurking beneath that cold stare. The corners of his mouth curled into a crooked grin—half challenge, half teasing.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and slow like he’s savoring the moment. “Look who’s got some guts. Quiet little you, sneaking around with that phone like a damn spy.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing heavier. You couldn’t look away from those piercing eyes, even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

One of his goons stepped closer, cracking his knuckles menacingly, but Seongje’s sharp hand shot out, stopping him.

“Not so fast,” Seongje warned, voice sharp as a whip. Then his grin softened ever so slightly, almost fondly—just for a fraction of a second. “I gotta admit… I kinda like this side of you.”

Your cheeks flushed, a mix of fear and something else—something strange, unsettling, almost electric.

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to a murmur only you could hear. “But if you wanna play in my world, you better be ready to deal with the fallout.”

Seongje’s gaze darkened for a brief moment before he grabbed your wrist with a grip firm enough to make you wince. “Come with me,” he said, voice low but commanding. Without waiting for your consent, he pulled you inside the club room, the heavy door thudding shut behind you.

The air inside was thick with tension and the stale scent of sweat and adrenaline. The thugs from his gang hovered nearby, watching with barely concealed amusement.

You straightened your back, forcing yourself to stand tall despite the pounding in your chest. Adjusting your glasses, you met Seongje’s gaze, trying to sound steady. “This is wrong. What you’re doing to him… it’s not right.”

Seongje smirked, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Right or wrong doesn’t mean much out here,” he said quietly. “You think you can just waltz in and tell me what’s right?”

You felt a sudden surge of courage, pushing past the fear. “You’re just Baekjin’s servant, running errands and protecting his territory. Tell me, do you even want this? Are you really happy playing dog for the Union?”

The words slipped out sharper than you intended, and the room grew colder in that instant.

Seongje’s jaw clenched. His eyes flashed with a harsh light, and before you could react, he shoved you roughly. You stumbled backward, arms flailing, and crashed hard onto the cold floor.

The impact knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, blinking up at him in shock and pain.

“You better watch your mouth,” he growled, voice low but dangerous, “or you’ll regret it.”

Behind you, the door burst open briefly as the bullied guy took his chance — stumbling out and disappearing down the hallway, leaving the room and its dark tension behind.

Seongje’s eyes flicked toward the empty doorway, then back at you. He crouched down and grabbed your phone from his pocket. The cold glare in his eyes never wavered as he tapped the screen a few times, then pressed firmly on the side until the screen went black. Then, with a swift motion, he crushed the device under his boot.

“There goes your proof,” he said quietly, voice dripping with dark amusement. Then, standing up, he looked down at you—still on the floor, breath catching in your chest. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. Consider this a warning.”

Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door. One of his goons held it open for him, and you heard the heavy thud of the door closing behind them, leaving you alone in the silence.

You lay there for a moment, the cold floor pressing against your skin, your heart still hammering. The weight of what just happened settled on your chest—no evidence, no proof, and now a warning that you weren’t even safe trying to protect someone else.

#honeyscara works #weak hero x reader #weak hero class #geum seongje x reader #keum seongje #geum seong je #seongje fic #whc2 x reader #whc2 #whc #whc seongje #weak hero class season 2

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mostly-marvel-musings · 5 days ago

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Chapter 10 - Terms and Conditions

A/N: There we are! The next chapter of this series. Hope y'all like it.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Wife! Reader

Warning: slow burn

Terms and Conditions

It was the cold that woke you first.

Not biting, not freezing, but sterile. Industrial. Clean in a way that felt wrong, like everything had been scrubbed of humanity.

Your head throbbed as you sat up slowly, wrists aching from the restraints. You were on a cot. No windows. Just white walls and a single strip light overhead humming with a relentless buzz. You tugged instinctively, and the shackle at your ankle scraped against the concrete floor.

Fantastic.

There was a camera in the corner. Watching. Recording.

“Morning, sunshine.”

The voice slinked in before the door even opened.

Aldrich Killian stepped through, hair slicked, eyes glittering with calculated glee, he wore a tailored suit like it was battle armor.

You met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Should’ve guessed it was you. Who else would mix science, ego, and kidnapping so elegantly?”

He smirked. “You always had flair, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s Mrs. Stark.”

Killian chuckled and leaned against the table with ease. “You know what your problem is? You’re brilliant. But too noble for your own good. Tony found that charming. I find it… annoying.”

He tapped a remote. A projection lit up against the wall, schematics, heat maps, bio-enhancement models. All Extremis. But this wasn’t the unstable version that turned veterans into bombs. This version looked sleeker. Smarter. Scarier.

“You see, Extremis 2.0 is almost there. But we need clean, sustainable cellular regulation. Controlled oxygenation under duress. Guess which company figured that out for smart structures and clean-core buildings?”

You said nothing.

“Don’t be shy,” he crooned. “You know what you built. Novastem’s oxygen-sequencing algorithm, the self-healing latticework tech, it could fix Extremis.”

“I built that tech to heal people. Stabilize environments. Not turn them into weapons.”

“Yeah. That’s why it’s poetic.”

He knelt beside you, voice dropping to a whisper laced with venom. “You married a man who once sold weapons. And now you’re going to help me perfect one.”

Your glare sharpened. “Not in this lifetime.”

He sighed. Then signaled to someone outside the door.

Two guards entered.

And then the real nightmare began.

They didn’t beat you. That would have been too blunt.

They used pressure points. Cold shock. Lights too bright. Buzzing frequencies that rattled your skull until your teeth hurt. Medical tools that hummed low before they pierced skin. They monitored your vitals. They asked questions while you were disoriented, weak, trembling. About Novastem’s systems. Fail-safes, remote access points.

You never answered.

Later, agonisingly later, you were back on the cot, wrists aching. Lips split. Breathing ragged. You counted the seconds by the drip of condensation down the wall across from you. Still no answers.

Then boom!

You jolted. It wasn’t in your room, not nearby, but close enough that the ground shook. A low rumble of chaos followed. Distant shouts. Screaming. Metal twisting.

Another explosion. Louder. Closer.

You sat upright as best as you could manage, eyes wide and red strobes pulsed across the room.

He was here. Tony Stark.

Your husband had found you.

A crash. Two guards at your door rushed out. The door slammed shut again, but not for long. Ten seconds later, it exploded inward in a fiery blast that scorched the walls and sent smoke and sparks flying.

A glass wall behind you lit up, a voice crackling over a speaker above.

“You really are predictable, Stark.”

Tony froze mid-step, shot gun aimed, ready to fire until he saw who was speaking.

Aldrich Killian.

Smirking. Confident. Holding a gleaming syringe between two fingers, tapping it lightly like a conductor about to cue an orchestra.

Tony’s voice cut like steel. “Step away from her.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me and risk hitting her?” Killian grinned, stepping inside a side door with infuriating calm. “You’re a genius, Tony. But you’ve always been too emotional to win the game.”

Tony started toward you, fast, but not fast enough. And Killian turned, grabbed your chin in a swift, practiced motion.

You struggled, bucked, cried out, “Tony—!”

Tony fired but Killian was already plunging the needle into your neck.

The pain was instant.

Your body jerked, fire flooded your veins. Your back arched as the Extremis serum lit your nerves on fire.

Every breath felt like it could set the room ablaze.

Your eyes rolled back, and the last thing you heard was Tony calling your name, just once before the world started to dissolve.

But the screaming didn’t stop.

He charged, shot after shot, the sound of metal tearing, flesh sizzling, a sickening crack of bone. You managed to see his face long enough for you to see the fury twisting his features as he grabbed Killian by the collar, slamming him into the wall so hard it left a crater.

“You son of a bitch!” he roared, voice splintered. “She’s not your test subject. She’s my wife. And you just made the worst mistake of your life.”

The words echoed in your ears like a lullaby or maybe a siren, as the serum took hold and everything faded to black.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark fluff #tony stark x female reader #terms and conditions #arranged marriage au #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings #marvel fanfiction #tony stark

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rogueshadow1124 · 11 months ago

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TRAINING DAY

[Task force 141 x reader]

Summary: New recruit Y/N is assigned tasks with different members of task force 141.

Word count: 1122

Warning: none?

The sprawling training facility was alive with the hum of machinery and the sharp clatter of boots against concrete. The space was vast, purpose-built to simulate everything from urban warfare to hostile environments. It was here that Task Force 141 was about to put their newest recruit—Y/N—through the paces.

Y/N stood in the center of the room, her stance relaxed but her eyes sharp. Dressed in tactical gear, she looked every bit the part of a seasoned operative. However, her reputation for sarcasm and a no-nonsense attitude had preceded her. She cracked a grin as Captain Price strode up to her, his expression a mixture of amusement and sternness.

“Morning, Captain,” Y/N said with a smirk. “I hope you’re ready for a workout, because I’ve been told I’m a bit of a handful.”

Price raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard,” he said, his tone even. “But let’s see if your skills match your bravado. Today’s drills will push you hard. You’ll be working with each member of the team in various scenarios. Let’s get started.”

Price led Y/N to the first section of the training area, where a series of obstacles and mock enemy positions were set up. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and adrenaline.

“Alright, Y/N, you’re up first with me,” Price said, gesturing towards a simulated hostage rescue scenario. “You’ll need to secure the hostages and eliminate any threats without causing collateral damage.”

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. “Got it. Time to show you why I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

As the simulation started, Price observed closely while Y/N navigated the environment with impressive skill. She moved with precision, taking out enemies with calculated shots and avoiding unnecessary risks. Her commentary, however, was a mix of humor and grit.

“You know, Captain, for someone who’s seen as a legend, you sure do know how to pick the worst spots for a rescue. It’s like you’re trying to give me a headache.”

Price chuckled. “Just keep moving and focus. We don’t have all day.”

Despite her banter, Y/N completed the task efficiently, securing the hostages and neutralizing the threats with minimal fuss. Price gave a nod of approval.

“Not bad. You’ve got a knack for this. Next up, Ghost.”

Ghost, ever the enigmatic figure with his skull mask and silent demeanor, awaited Y/N for the next exercise. The task with Ghost focused on stealth and reconnaissance.

“In this exercise, you’ll need to infiltrate an enemy compound and retrieve classified documents,” Ghost instructed through his comms. “Avoid detection at all costs. Ready?”

Y/N smirked. “Stealthy and deadly—that’s my middle name.”

As the simulation began, Y/N slinked through shadows, using every inch of cover to her advantage. Ghost’s occasional instructions were concise and to the point, guiding her through the compound. Despite the intense focus required, Y/N couldn’t help but crack a few jokes.

“If I had a dime for every time I had to dodge a laser sensor, I’d be able to retire by now. Wait, are we done yet?”

Ghost’s response was a silent nod as Y/N successfully extracted the documents without setting off any alarms.

“Impressive,” Ghost said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “You’re stealthier than a cat on a prowl. Let’s see how you fare with Soap.”

Soap’s exercise was a combination of tactical maneuvers and combat scenarios. The environment was a chaotic battlefield, with simulated enemies and objectives to complete.

“Alright, lass,” Soap said, flashing a grin. “In this one, we’re gonna be in the thick of it. We need to clear these positions and hold them against enemy forces. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.”

The firefight began, and Soap’s energy was infectious. He moved with a blend of aggression and precision, pushing forward while coordinating with Y/N.

“Soap, if you keep yelling like that, I might just mistake you for one of the enemy,” Y/N quipped as she fired her weapon. “And I have to say, you’ve got quite the flair for dramatic entrances.”

Soap laughed, his enthusiasm unabated. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just make sure you keep up!”

The exercise tested Y/N’s ability to handle high-pressure situations while working as part of a team. Her quick thinking and combat skills shone through as she and Soap cleared the positions and secured their objectives.

“Nice work, rookie,” Soap said, clapping her on the back. “You’ve got some serious chops. Now, let’s wrap it up with Roach.”

Roach’s scenario focused on marksmanship and precision under varying conditions. The targets were set up at different distances, and the challenge was to hit them all within a strict time limit.

“In this one, it’s all about accuracy,” Roach explained. “You’ve got to hit all the targets quickly and efficiently. No pressure.”

Y/N’s response was a smirk as she took her position. “Pressure is my middle name. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Roach watched closely as Y/N lined up her shots. Her focus was intense, and she hit each target with impressive accuracy. The time limit was tight, but Y/N managed to complete the drill with seconds to spare.

“Good shooting,” Roach said, a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve got a solid shot. That’s it for today.”

As the training session concluded, the members of Task Force 141 gathered around Y/N. They exchanged looks of mutual respect and approval.

“You’ve done well,” Price said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You’ve proven you’ve got both the skills and the attitude to make it with us. Keep up the good work, and remember, this is just the beginning.”

Y/N nodded, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Thanks, Captain. And don’t worry—I’ll be sure to keep you all on your toes.”

The team chuckled, and Y/N felt a sense of camaraderie with the elite group. The training had been intense, but it had also been a chance to prove herself and bond with some of the best operatives in the field.

As she walked out of the facility, Y/N knew that she had earned her place among Task Force 141. The blend of sarcasm and skill had served her well, and she was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

In the world of high-stakes missions and dangerous operations, Y/N had found her footing. With the support and guidance of Task Force 141, she was poised to make a significant impact. The training grounds had been the proving ground, and she had emerged stronger, sharper, and more determined than ever.

#task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #captain price #cod #roach cod #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader

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chrizzzbang · 28 days ago

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Blood on the Boardwalk

wc: 1k

pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Chapter 6: The Warehouse

The warehouse stood like a dark monolith on the edge of the pier, its weathered boards creaking softly in the salty breeze. Moonlight spilled in silver pools across the cracked concrete, but shadows clung stubbornly to every corner. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find here — answers, maybe, or at least some proof that what I suspected was real.

I slipped closer, heart hammering loud enough to drown out the crashing waves behind me. Every step felt like walking on a razor’s edge, the silence broken only by the distant call of seabirds settling in for the night.

Suddenly, the air shifted.

Cold, sharp eyes caught mine from the darkness.

Figures emerged, smooth and silent as smoke, moving in from every side. Chan’s crew — seven silhouettes outlined by the faint glow of the moon. Leather jackets, pale skin, eyes that gleamed with something otherworldly. They circled me, a predatory pack closing in.

Fear prickled along my spine, but I refused to back down. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I met their gaze. They weren’t just curious — it was something more dangerous, a silent challenge.

“Who let you wander this far?” Minho’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife, low and rough.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. The weight of their presence was suffocating.

Then Chan stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but his voice cut through the thick night air with effortless authority. “Let her be,” he said softly but firmly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The others hesitated, exchanging glances, then reluctantly took a step back. But the chill in the air remained — the unspoken warning that this wasn’t over.

The electric tension in the air didn’t dissipate as the crew backed away, their eyes never leaving me. Minho’s sharp glare was like a blade—unrelenting, full of suspicion and challenge. His jaw was tight, muscles coiled as if ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Felix, the quietest among them, stood like a statue in the shadows, his dark eyes cold and unreadable, watching every move with unnerving stillness.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Chan finally spoke. His voice was calm, smooth—like silk wrapped around steel. “She’s not ready yet.”

The words fell with the weight of a verdict. There was no room for argument.

One by one, the crew reluctantly stepped back, their postures tense but obedient. Yet their eyes remained sharp, calculating, as if measuring me, weighing the potential threat—or something else entirely.

Chan’s gaze held mine, intense and unsettling. There was a flicker of something beneath that cool exterior—a mix of warning and something almost… protective. His presence was magnetic, drawing me in even as my instincts screamed to run.

For a moment, the night seemed suspended, a fragile bubble where danger and fascination collided. I felt small and exposed, caught in the orbit of a world I barely understood but couldn’t look away from.

As the wind whispered through the empty pier, I realized that whatever this was—whatever Chan was—it was far from over.

And maybe, deep down, part of me didn’t want it to be.

The rest of the crew lingered nearby, exchanging glances, their loyalty to Chan evident but tempered by their own doubts. The unspoken tension between them was like a current running just beneath the surface, thick with unvoiced questions.

In the midst of it all, I caught Minho’s eyes flicker toward Chan — a silent challenge, a warning, and a demand for answers that wouldn’t come just yet.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how out of place I was here — caught between worlds, neither fully welcomed nor fully rejected.

And then, almost without thinking, my gaze shifted to my brother.

Ryder stood at the edge of the group, his face pale in the moonlight. His eyes darted nervously—not with fear of the vampires, but something else entirely. His lips pressed tight, as if holding back a secret too heavy to speak aloud.

For a fleeting moment, our eyes met, and I saw the flicker of fear buried deep within him.

It was a fear I couldn’t yet understand.

Chan’s eyes locked onto mine again, a slow, knowing smile playing at his lips. The tension between us tightened, electric and teasing. He stepped closer, closing the small space with deliberate ease, as if daring me to back away but confident I wouldn’t.

“You’re more interesting than I expected,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, brushing against my skin like a secret.

I fought the flush rising in my cheeks, trying to steady my breath. There was something about the way he looked at me—like he could see right through the walls I’d built.

Chan’s fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch light but charged with intent. “Curiosity can be dangerous, you know.”

I barely nodded, caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to lean in closer.

Then his gaze shifted to Ryder, who was watching silently, jaw clenched but obedient.

“Take him home,” Chan said softly, his tone brooking no argument.

Ryder’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Chan, before he moved to follow. As he left, Chan’s smile deepened, turning almost possessive.

“Be careful,” he whispered just for me, and with that, he vanished back into the shadows.

The silence after was heavy. Ryder and I climbed into the car without a word, the night stretching long and quiet around us.

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liviscorner · 5 months ago

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this is part one of a series that I hope to continue🥲

**Chapter 1: Shadows in the Night**

EMME

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet streets of Washington, D.C. I moved with purpose, my senses sharp, every step calculated. I had been tracking a Hydra operative for weeks, and tonight, I felt closer than ever to my goal.

My past experiences had honed my instincts, and I trusted them implicitly. I took my missions seriously, always pushing myself to be better, faster, stronger. But beneath my confident exterior, I harbored a well of insecurity, a nagging doubt that I would never be enough.

As I approached a narrow alleyway, something caught my attention—a flicker of movement in the shadows. My hand instinctively went to the weapon at my side, my body tense and ready. I could sense that I wasn't alone.

"I know you're there," I called out, my voice steady and authoritative. "Step into the light."

A figure emerged from the shadows, his face half-obscured by the moonlight. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him: Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier. His reputation preceded him, and I knew I had to tread carefully.

"You're not Hydra," Bucky said, his voice low and gravelly.

"Neither are you," I replied, my gaze unwavering. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Bucky countered, his eyes narrowing. Despite the tension in the air, I couldn't help but feel a connection, as if our paths had crossed for a reason.

"I'm tracking someone," I admitted, my tone cautious. "A Hydra operative. He's been moving through the city, and I need to stop him."

Bucky nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. "We're after the same target. Maybe we can help each other."

I studied him for a moment, weighing my options. I had always worked alone, relying on my skills and instincts to get the job done. But there was something about Bucky's presence that made me want to take a chance.

"Alright," I said finally, my expression softening. "But don't get in my way."

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of Bucky's lips. "I won't."

Together, we moved through the shadows, our movements synchronized as if we had been partners for years. I felt an odd sense of comfort in Bucky's presence, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time. We navigated the darkened streets, our senses attuned to every sound, every shift in the wind.

As we closed in on our target, the tension between us began to ease. We exchanged brief glances, silent acknowledgments of our shared purpose. I found myself drawn to Bucky's strength and resilience, qualities that mirrored my own. And despite my initial reservations, I felt a growing sense of trust in him.

Our pursuit led us to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, a labyrinth of rusted metal and decaying machinery. We moved with caution, our footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor. As we approached a dimly lit corridor, the sound of voices reached our ears.

Bucky gestured for me to stay back, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. I watched as he assessed the situation, admiring his focus and determination. The Hydra operative stood at the far end of the corridor, his back turned to us as he spoke into a communicator.

"Now," Bucky whispered, and we sprang into action.

The battle was swift and brutal, a flurry of fists, kicks, and the crack of bone. Bucky and I fought side by side, our movements a seamless dance of precision and power. Within moments, the Hydra operative lay unconscious at our feet, his communicator shattered on the ground.

Breathing heavily, I turned to Bucky, my eyes filled with a mix of admiration and gratitude. "You're good," I said, my voice tinged with respect.

"So are you," Bucky replied, a small smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "Maybe we make a good team after all."

I nodded, feeling a warmth in my chest that I hadn't felt in years. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that I wasn't alone in my journey. And as I looked into Bucky's eyes, I knew that this was only the beginning of something extraordinary.

---

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes drabble #the avengers #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #short story

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storiednhappy · 1 year ago

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Campfire Darkness

In partnership with @jaxsthugs

Chapter 1: The Struggle Begins

Camp squatted in the corner of the construction site, the city’s oppressive skyline a constant reminder of his insignificance. The air was thick with the stench of diesel and sweat, mixing with the acrid smell of concrete dust. His eyes, hollow and fierce, scanned the chaotic scene before him. The clatter of machinery, the barked orders from supervisors, and the ceaseless roar of progress felt like the grinding gears of a machine that was slowly chewing him up.

The foreman, a perpetually sneering brute, singled him out again. "Hey, skin and bones! Get your worthless ass over here and move these beams!" His voice was a jagged saw, cutting through Camp's thin veneer of patience.

Camp clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his anger a simmering cauldron ready to boil over. He was tired—tired of the exploitation, tired of the endless grind that left him perpetually hungry and hollow. He had dreams once, but they were ground to dust under the relentless weight of this urban wasteland.

During a rare break, Camp retreated to the edge of the site, crouching low and trying to find a moment of respite. He stared at his reflection in the grimy surface of his hard hat. The tattoos snaking up his arms seemed to writhe under the harsh lights, each one a testament to a battle fought and lost.

It was in this quiet moment that he noticed something out of place. Across the street, a decrepit figure rummaged through a pile of discarded electronics, his movements deliberate and unhurried. There was an air of methodical purpose about him that piqued Camp's curiosity.

“Hey, old man, what are you doing?” Camp's voice was rough, a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

The man looked up, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "Looking for potential," he replied cryptically, his voice a rasp that seemed to cut through the ambient noise.

Camp frowned, his curiosity warring with caution. "Potential for what?"

The old man smiled, a cold, calculating expression. "Potential to change everything."

The promise in the man’s words stirred something deep within Camp—a dark, desperate hope. "Why would you help me?"

The man's gaze seemed to pierce through Camp, seeing the anger and desperation hidden beneath the surface. "Because I see something in you that others don't. A spark that can be forged into a fire."

Against his better judgment, Camp felt drawn to the man’s words. The promise of power, of control, was too tempting to resist. "Alright. Show me."

The man led Camp through a labyrinth of alleyways and derelict buildings, each step taking him further from the familiar misery of his daily life. They arrived at a nondescript door, hidden in the shadows of the towering buildings. Inside, the space was a chaotic mess of wires, circuits, and strange devices.

“Welcome to my laboratory,” the man said, his voice laced with a sinister satisfaction. “Here, you will begin your transformation.”

The procedure was not offered with hope or kindness, but with a cold, detached efficiency. Camp was strapped into a crude contraption, his body subjected to a torrent of electrical energy and chemical infusions. The pain was excruciating, each surge of power tearing through him like claws ripping through flesh.

Camp’s screams were swallowed by the oppressive walls, his body convulsing violently as the transformation took hold. The old man watched impassively, his interest purely clinical.

When it was over, Camp collapsed to the floor, his body a mass of twitching muscles and searing pain. But beneath the agony, he felt something else—power. Dark and raw, coursing through his veins like a black tide.

The man leaned over him, his eyes glittering with a perverse satisfaction. "You survived. Good. This is just the beginning. With your new abilities, you can take what’s rightfully yours."

Camp staggered to his feet, his reflection in the cracked mirror almost unrecognizable. His once-lean frame was now muscular and imposing, his eyes burning with a new intensity. The anger and frustration were still there, but now they were tempered with a cold, hard resolve.

He turned to the man, a new purpose driving him forward. “What do I do now?”

The man smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. “Now, you reshape your destiny. Show them the power they’ve overlooked.”

With a grim nod, Camp stepped out into the night, the city’s lights casting long shadows over his path. The struggle was far from over, but now he had the power to fight back—power that he intended to use, no matter the cost.

#androphilia #masculinity #electric phenom #tf story #jaxsthugs

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crimson--corvid · 2 years ago

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Three and a half months ago...

The cold, bitter air of the night by the sea pierced its skin, not that the chill could sink its teeth into the Beast's undead flesh. Blackened, talon like fingers gripped the concrete slab facade of the Seaside Casino, Elysium to Kindred and home to Prince Novak of New Jersey. Its sole target. Its mind could think of nothing more than finding him, dethroning him, and ending him.

Somewhere inside of it, something small cried for it all to end. The thoughts of Zsasz's compelled face mixed with the lifeless and bloody Leo, both ghouls he had lost his control around. Guilt pressed at the bars of the mental cage he was locked within, but did little to free him from the clutches of his own beastiality.

Things were different this time, as it crawled its way up the side of the building, out of sight from the guards and ghouls patrolling the large casino grounds. His Beast had been calculating, conniving, unruly, and authoritarian in his previous bouts of frenzy, but since the diablerie of Knight Commander Cooper, his mind had...changed. He had taken in parts of the wicked hunter's soul, as well as his Strigoi powers, and now, his Beast was wicked and cruel -- vicious and unpredictable. He was hopeless in controlling it this time, despite the decades of experience he'd accrued in his unlife.

It followed the air ducts along the rooftop of the casino, remembering the layout of the building from the inside. Novak's suite and office was located at the upper back of the post-modern architecture, with full-length windows overlooking the bay leading into Gotham City. A rather risky layout, given his deathly allergy to sunlight.

It navigated through the venting, slipping past the last barricade of trained staff and Kindred. Peering through the ventilation grates, it spotted guards touching their ear pieces, then walking away from their posts. Its hearing picked up on Novak's voice through the small, ear-sized speakers.

With the guards gone, it dropped down onto the floor in front of the double doors leading into the suite. It was ready to burst through the doors by force, but found them unlocked.

Novak waited inside, smile wide and flanked on either side by a ghoul, both freshly drained and in stupors. "Ruru!" Novak greeted with excitement in his voice, standing up and opening his arms wide. "I knew you'd be by. Say, you look a little different." He put a curled finger to his lips, which had curved into an impish smirk. "Have you been working out?"

"Novak..." it growled, voice guttural and rough."You stripped me of my right to fight my enemies." Teeth and fangs were bared as it continued, "You locked me away. HUMILIATED ME..." Every single moment of insult and injury to Ruairí's pride and family replayed in its thoughts, lacquered with a tinge of bitterness. All the destruction, all the death at its hands -- Novak was at the root of it.

The ghouls both roused from their stupefaction, blinking the bleariness from their eyes and looking in its direction. As soon as they saw its claws and fangs, they began to scoot away from Novak in caution.

Novak's expression persisted, unwavering in its taunting confidence. "Guilty as charged, but all with the best intentions." He clasped his hands together in a feigned pose of innocence.

It struggled against the sudden push of Ruairí's stubborn curiosity, relenting and asking, "Why?"

"Tell me, all this chaos you've wrought... Doesn't it just make you feel...alive again? You can sense it... The horizons are opening up into new futures. This much fury, boiling you away inside, and with such new power! I couldn't look away even if I wanted to!" His eyes widened with elation and joy as he gestured widely in Ruairí's direction. "I mean, look at you! Isn't this enlightening? Getting to look at your putrid soul from the outside in? I'm eating it up! You can't believe how bored I was before you came along."

It growled out a bellowing roar of discontent, "Rrrrrrrghhh you did this...out of boredom...?"

Novak looked somewhat disappointed that it hadn't caught on sooner. "My, my. You hadn't guessed? Yes! I want a return to the good old days!" He tossed his arms out again, taking a few steps backward and toward the full length window behind him. "I want war. I want the blood of kindred and kine alike pooling in the streets! Think of it! Reshaping New Jersey again and again and again! Never a dull moment!" He tipped his head down into a devilish grin, yellow eyes peering at the Beast before him. "So come on, let's get this started. Or do you need me to go further? I could kill a ghoul or two. Or perhaps even track down that fling in Bristol."

The rage and fury of insult sank into its mind, clouding all else behind a wall of red, unbridled monstrosity. It tucked down into a crouch, ready to pounce, but he fought from within to try and stop it. It would give in. It would give Novak exactly what he wanted. It would start a war.

"Come on, Red Raven... Live up to your tales..." Novak said lowly, enticing and taunting. After a second more, he repeated, shouting out, "COME ON."

Feet pushed off the ground in a single, huge leap, and it tackled Novak at the waist. The two ghouls dove away, their screams merely distant echoes in its furious mind. Novak's back crashed through the glass of the windows, and the two of them burst out into the August night air, plummeting down into the waters below.

As they fell, lights of the night reflecting off the shards of glass all around them like stars, his mind began to clear, and he was at the forefront again. A memory came to mind. A note, written on a piece of paper and tucked against his chest for travel to the states from Bristol.

"You have a lovely soul, Ruairí Byrne. Try not to lose it..."

Present Day...

Two men emerged from a black coupe parked by the Gotham riverbank, dressed in nice suits and wearing sunglasses in the already dark night. "Damn. Never thought we'd be doin' Tony," the one in blue said with a scoff.

"Right?" replied the one in maroon, "Seemed like he'd fit right in. But no one steals from the Black Mask." He popped the trunk, where a lumpy rolled up rug had been bound with nylon rope and stuffed.

"Good riddance."

They each took a hold of one end of the rug, waddling their way to the edge of the water. "The current's shit tonight!" Maroon grumbled out in exertion.

"Well it's a good thing no one's around. Tide'll grab him by mornin. Hurry up!" They swung the carpet like a long, heavy length of rope, then tossed it into the waters with an unceremonious sploosh. "Goodnight, ya son of a bitch." Blue panted, resting his hands against his knees. "Why'd he have to be such a fat fuck, ey Pau--" As he stood and looked to where Maroon had been, there was nothing but a loafer in the mud. "... Pauly?"

Two sets of black talons gripped around Blue's face, pulling him back into the shrubs with a scream that cut abruptly off into silence.

Two fresh meals, now nearly empty and unconscious at his feet. It seemed as though the night welcomed him back with open arms.

ᴇ ɴ ᴅ.

#𓋹 telling tales #𓋹 event :: frenzy #EVENT END

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cadservices12 · 4 days ago

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What Does a Structural Engineering Consultant Really Do?

When you walk past a skyscraper, cross a bridge, or live in a well-designed home, chances are a structural engineering consultant played a key role in making sure that structure is not only functional but also safe, efficient, and built to last. While architects and builders get much of the spotlight, structural engineers work quietly behind the scenes—turning creative ideas into reliable realities.

But what exactly do these consultants do?

Let’s break it down in simple terms.

The Core Role of a Structural Engineering Consultant

At the heart of it, structural engineering consultants ensure that buildings and infrastructure can withstand the physical forces they will encounter—wind, weight, vibrations, earthquakes, and more. Their job is to make sure structures are safe, strong, and efficient.

They do this by:

Analyzing loads and forces: They calculate how much weight a structure must carry and how environmental factors (like wind or tremors) might affect it.

Choosing the right materials: Steel, concrete, timber, or a mix? Consultants recommend the best materials based on safety, performance, cost, and sustainability.

Designing structural elements: From beams and columns to foundations and slabs, every structural piece must work in harmony.

Ensuring compliance: Structural engineers ensure the designs meet Australian standards, local codes, and safety regulations.

Collaborating with architects and builders: They work closely with other professionals to integrate safe and practical structures into beautiful designs.

Beyond the Blueprints: Their Daily Work

A day in the life of a structural engineering consultant isn’t just about running calculations. It includes:

Visiting construction sites to inspect ongoing work.

Assessing existing buildings for safety upgrades or renovations.

Providing expert reports for councils or insurance companies.

Offering advice on structural repairs after damage or wear and tear.

Using modern software tools for structural simulation and modeling.

In short, their expertise touches every phase of a construction project—from initial concept to long-term maintenance.

Why Structural Engineering Matters More Than Ever

With modern architecture pushing boundaries and climate challenges demanding better resilience, structural engineers are more important than ever.

Sustainable design: Consultants help design buildings that are both strong and environmentally friendly.

Natural disaster readiness: Australia’s varied climate—floods, fires, earthquakes—makes structural integrity a top priority.

Urban growth: With cities expanding upward and outward, innovative structural design is essential to keep up.

No matter the size or scale, every project needs a solid backbone—and that’s exactly what structural engineers provide.

Structural Engineering in Australia: Local Expertise Matters

The field of structural engineering in Australia has evolved with the demands of modern construction. Engineers here must navigate a unique mix of geological, environmental, and regulatory challenges. From coastal corrosion to bushfire zones, Australian structural engineers are trained to handle it all.

That’s why structural engineering services in Australia are so specialized—combining international best practices with local knowledge and compliance standards.

When Should You Hire a Structural Engineering Consultant?

You're planning to build a new home or commercial building.

You're extending or renovating an existing structure.

You want to assess the structural safety of an old property.

You're facing issues like cracks, sloping floors, or unstable walls.

Your project requires council approvals or professional engineering reports.

In any of these cases, a structural engineering consultant can save you time, money, and serious headaches by getting things right from the start.

Final Thoughts

So, what does a structural engineering consultant really do? In simple terms—they make sure your building stands tall, stays safe, and lasts long. From detailed analysis and smart material choices to ensuring compliance and sustainability, they’re the unsung heroes behind every great structure.

When you're investing in construction, whether big or small, don’t overlook the value of expert structural guidance. Because while design can turn heads, structure holds everything up.

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vehiclecompliance · 4 days ago

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What Does a Structural Engineering Consultant Really Do?

But what exactly do these consultants do?

Let’s break it down in simple terms.

The Core Role of a Structural Engineering Consultant

They do this by:

Analyzing loads and forces: They calculate how much weight a structure must carry and how environmental factors (like wind or tremors) might affect it.

Choosing the right materials: Steel, concrete, timber, or a mix? Consultants recommend the best materials based on safety, performance, cost, and sustainability.

Designing structural elements: From beams and columns to foundations and slabs, every structural piece must work in harmony.

Ensuring compliance: Structural engineers ensure the designs meet Australian standards, local codes, and safety regulations.

Collaborating with architects and builders: They work closely with other professionals to integrate safe and practical structures into beautiful designs.

Beyond the Blueprints: Their Daily Work

A day in the life of a structural engineering consultant isn’t just about running calculations. It includes:

Visiting construction sites to inspect ongoing work.

Assessing existing buildings for safety upgrades or renovations.

Providing expert reports for councils or insurance companies.

Offering advice on structural repairs after damage or wear and tear.

Using modern software tools for structural simulation and modeling.

In short, their expertise touches every phase of a construction project—from initial concept to long-term maintenance.

Why Structural Engineering Matters More Than Ever

With modern architecture pushing boundaries and climate challenges demanding better resilience, structural engineers are more important than ever.

Sustainable design: Consultants help design buildings that are both strong and environmentally friendly.

Natural disaster readiness: Australia’s varied climate—floods, fires, earthquakes—makes structural integrity a top priority.

Urban growth: With cities expanding upward and outward, innovative structural design is essential to keep up.

No matter the size or scale, every project needs a solid backbone—and that’s exactly what structural engineers provide.

Structural Engineering in Australia: Local Expertise Matters

That’s why structural engineering services in Australia are so specialized—combining international best practices with local knowledge and compliance standards.

When Should You Hire a Structural Engineering Consultant?

You're planning to build a new home or commercial building.

You're extending or renovating an existing structure.

You want to assess the structural safety of an old property.

You're facing issues like cracks, sloping floors, or unstable walls.

Your project requires council approvals or professional engineering reports.

In any of these cases, a structural engineering consultant can save you time, money, and serious headaches by getting things right from the start.

Final Thoughts

When you're investing in construction, whether big or small, don’t overlook the value of expert structural guidance. Because while design can turn heads, structure holds everything up.

#vehicle compliance australia

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concretecommandosbakersfield · 13 days ago

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Concrete Driveways in Bakersfield: How to Measure, Estimate, and Hire with Confidence

Thinking about redoing your driveway or installing a new one? A concrete driveway is one of the smartest investments you can make to improve your home’s curb appeal, increase functionality, and add long-term value.

If you’re in Bakersfield, CA, and need help figuring out how to measure, calculate, and plan your driveway project, this guide from Concrete Commandos Bakersfield will walk you through every step. We’re local, experienced, and committed to getting it done right.

Step One: Measure Your Driveway Like a Pro

The first step is knowing exactly what space you’re working with. You’ll need this information to determine how much concrete you need and what kind of base preparation is involved.

How to Measure the Space

Measure length and width with a tape or laser tool.

For curved or irregular driveways, break the space into sections and measure each one individually.

Standard depth is usually 4 inches for residential use, but 5–6 inches is better if you're parking heavier vehicles.

Formula to remember: Length × Width = Total Square Feet

You’ll use this number to estimate your concrete volume next.

Tips for Uneven or Sloped Areas

If your driveway includes a slope or a curve, measure the widest and narrowest points to get an average width. Don’t forget to account for borders, corners, and any additional design elements you might want.

Step Two: Estimate How Much Concrete You Need

Concrete is sold in cubic yards, and it’s important to get this calculation right to avoid over-ordering or coming up short.

The Formula

(Length × Width × Depth) ÷ 27 = Cubic Yards

Example: A 20 ft by 12 ft driveway at 4 inches deep: 20 × 12 × 0.33 = 79.2 79.2 ÷ 27 = 2.93 cubic yards

We always recommend rounding up and adding 10% for any spillage or overflow. So in this case, order around 3.3 cubic yards.

What Could Change That Number?

Decorative finishes

Gravel sub-base or thicker borders

Structural reinforcements (like rebar or mesh)

Be sure to factor these in when discussing your project with a contractor.

Choosing the Right Concrete Mix

Not all concrete is created equal. Depending on how you plan to use your driveway, you’ll need to choose the right type of mix and possibly some reinforcements.

Standard vs. Reinforced Concrete

A standard mix of cement, water, and aggregate is great for most driveways. If you expect high traffic, heavy loads, or want extra durability, reinforced concrete with steel rebar or wire mesh is a smart investment.

Most driveways should have a compressive strength of at least 3,000 to 4,000 psi to handle daily use and seasonal changes.

Decorative Options

Concrete isn’t just gray and boring. Here are a few finish styles that can elevate your driveway:

Broom finish: slip-resistant and clean

Stamped concrete: mimics brick, stone, or tile

Stained concrete: adds bold, lasting color

At Concrete Commandos Bakersfield, we offer all of these options and can help you choose one that fits your budget and your home’s aesthetic.

Why You Should Work with a Pro

DIY concrete projects are risky. Pouring, leveling, and curing concrete takes experience, precision, and proper timing. A mistake could crack your driveway; or your budget.

What Pros Bring to the Table

Site preparation and soil knowledge

Weather-aware pouring techniques

Equipment like mixers, screeds, and saws

Compliance with local building codes

And when you work with Concrete Commandos Bakersfield, you’re hiring a team that’s local, licensed, and ready to handle anything.

Local Knowledge Matters

We’re based right here in Bakersfield and understand the soil conditions, weather patterns, and seasonal extremes that affect concrete curing and performance. Whether you're on hard clay or sandy soil, we build driveways that last.

Should You Add Gravel Under the Concrete?

Absolutely. A gravel base adds strength and stability to your driveway. It keeps moisture from pooling, prevents cracking, and supports the concrete for years to come.

Benefits of a Gravel Sub-Base

Better drainage

Even load distribution

Reduces shifting and settling

What It Costs to Pour a Concrete Driveway in Bakersfield

Price depends on the size of your project, the type of mix, and any custom features you want.

Local Price Ranges (Rough Estimates)

Standard driveway: $6–$10 per square foot

Stamped or stained concrete: $12–$18 per square foot

Concrete delivery: $150–$175 per cubic yard

Don’t forget to factor in base prep, demolition (if replacing an old surface), and reinforcements. We always provide itemized quotes so you understand where every dollar goes.

Why Bakersfield Trusts Concrete Commandos

Our name says it all. We bring military-level discipline to concrete work and a genuine dedication to quality. Whether it’s a driveway, sidewalk, or commercial slab, our team is known for showing up, following through, and delivering exceptional results.

Our Services

Concrete driveway installations

Repairs and resurfacing

Gravel base preparation

Decorative and stamped finishes

Commercial concrete work

Everything we do is tailored to Bakersfield’s terrain and climate. We’re not just contractors, we’re your neighbors, and we’re proud to serve our community.

Ready to Get Started?

Let’s build something solid. Whether you have a clear vision or need help figuring it out, we’re here to guide you.

Concrete Commandos Bakersfield offers:

Free on-site quotes

Fast turnaround and clear timelines

Honest, local advice

Send us a message or request a quote and let’s bring your new concrete driveway to life.

Concrete Commandos Bakersfield ADDRESS: 1411 17th St Bakersfield, CA 93301 PHONE: 661-535-1837

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readymixcon375 · 18 days ago

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Ready Mix Concrete

Understanding Ready Mix Concrete: Strength, Efficiency, and Versatility

In the modern construction industry, efficiency, consistency, and strength are non-negotiables. Whether it’s a small residential project or a massive infrastructure development, the quality of materials can directly influence the integrity and longevity of a structure. One material that has gained popularity for its reliability and ease of use is ready mix concrete. With its controlled production, versatile applications, and time-saving benefits, ready mix concrete has become a cornerstone of contemporary building practices.

What is Ready Mix Concrete?

Ready mix concrete is a specially formulated mixture of cement, water, aggregates (sand, gravel, or crushed stone), and sometimes admixtures. Unlike traditional concrete that is mixed on-site, ready mix concrete is produced in a batching plant according to specific engineering requirements and then delivered to the construction site in a ready-to-use state using transit mixers.

This method ensures a consistent and high-quality product while eliminating the need for on-site mixing. The controlled environment in which ready mix concrete is produced allows for precise measurements and adjustments, resulting in a product that meets industry standards and project-specific needs.

The Components and Their Roles

Understanding the ingredients of ready mix concrete helps highlight why it is such a dependable choice:

Cement: Acts as the binder that holds all components together once hydrated with water. It provides strength and structure.

Aggregates: These make up the bulk of the mix and add compressive strength. Fine aggregates (like sand) fill voids, while coarse aggregates (like gravel or crushed stone) provide durability.

Water: Initiates the chemical reaction with cement (hydration), allowing the mixture to harden and gain strength over time.

Admixtures (optional): These are chemicals added to alter properties like setting time, workability, or resistance to weather and chemicals.

Advantages of Ready Mix Concrete

The benefits of using ready mix concrete are numerous and cater to both large-scale commercial projects and small-scale residential applications.

1. Consistent Quality

Since ready mix concrete is produced in a controlled environment, the quality of the mix is highly consistent. There is minimal variation in the ratio of ingredients, reducing the chance of weak spots or inconsistencies that could compromise structural integrity.

2. Increased Efficiency

Using ready mix concrete eliminates the need for on-site mixing, which saves considerable time and labor. Construction schedules can stay on track or even accelerate because the material arrives ready for immediate use.

3. Reduced Material Waste

On-site mixing often leads to overordering or underordering of raw materials. With ready mix concrete, the exact amount needed for a project can be calculated and delivered, leading to less waste and better cost control.

4. Enhanced Worksite Safety

Because there's no need to handle or store large quantities of raw materials like cement and aggregates, construction sites using ready mix concrete are generally cleaner and safer. The risk of inhaling dust or dealing with spillage is significantly reduced.

5. Versatility in Application

Ready mix concrete is suitable for a wide range of applications, from sidewalks and driveways to skyscrapers and highways. Its formulation can be customized for specific requirements such as high strength, rapid setting, or increased durability in extreme weather conditions.

6. Environmental Benefits

Modern batching plants often incorporate energy-efficient practices and can recycle returned concrete or wash water. Additionally, because transportation and usage are streamlined, the overall carbon footprint can be lower than traditional mixing methods.

Applications of Ready Mix Concrete

The adaptability of ready mix concrete makes it an essential material in many areas of construction:

Residential Construction In residential projects, ready mix concrete is commonly used for foundations, driveways, patios, and flooring. Its smooth finish and reliable strength make it ideal for both structural and aesthetic purposes.

Commercial and Industrial Projects Large commercial buildings and industrial facilities benefit from the structural integrity that ready mix concrete provides. It is often used in parking structures, flooring systems, loading docks, and exterior pavement.

Infrastructure Development Bridges, tunnels, airports, and highways often require large volumes of high-performance concrete. Ready mix concrete ensures uniformity and allows for continuous pours that are critical to the stability and strength of such large-scale infrastructure.

Specialized Construction Some projects require concrete with specific properties, such as resistance to chemicals, extreme temperatures, or water penetration. Ready mix concrete can be engineered to meet these challenges with specialized admixtures and mixing techniques.

Considerations When Using Ready Mix Concrete

While ready mix concrete offers many advantages, it is important to consider certain factors to ensure optimal performance on your project.

1. Timing and Coordination Because ready mix concrete begins setting shortly after being mixed, it must be used within a specific time frame—typically 90 minutes after mixing. Coordinating delivery and pour schedules is crucial to avoid waste and ensure proper application.

2. Accessibility of the Site Transit mixers must be able to access the construction site without obstruction. If a site is difficult to reach, pumps or other methods may be necessary to transport the concrete to the desired location.

3. Weather Conditions Weather plays a role in the setting time and workability of ready mix concrete. High temperatures can speed up the curing process, while cold or wet conditions may require additives or adjustments to the mix.

4. Curing Process Once poured, the concrete must be properly cured to gain its full strength. Curing typically involves keeping the surface moist and protected for a period of time—usually 7 days or more depending on the mix and conditions.

The Future of Ready Mix Concrete

Innovation continues to shape the future of ready mix concrete. Advances in materials science and technology are driving the development of eco-friendly mixes, self-healing concrete, and improved delivery logistics.

Digital tools and software are increasingly used in batching plants to ensure accuracy and traceability. Sustainability is also a major focus, with many producers exploring low-carbon alternatives to Portland cement and investing in carbon capture technologies.

The future points toward greater efficiency, sustainability, and even smarter concrete solutions. Ready mix concrete, with its strong foundation in engineering precision and performance, is poised to remain a key player in building the future—literally and figuratively.

Conclusion

Ready mix concrete is a game-changer in the world of construction. Its combination of quality control, time efficiency, and adaptability makes it an ideal material for a wide range of building applications. Whether you're constructing a residential patio or a multi-lane highway, ready mix concrete offers the durability, convenience, and reliability needed to get the job done right.

As building demands grow and technologies evolve, this tried-and-true material continues to adapt, proving that when it comes to strength and simplicity, few materials compare.

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calculatortools · 28 days ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Using a Concrete Calculator for Your Next Project

Planning a construction project? Whether you're pouring a new driveway, a backyard patio, or a foundation slab, accurately calculating concrete needs is essential. That’s where a concrete calculator becomes your best friend. Not only does it save you time, but it also helps you avoid costly overages or shortages.

In this guide, we’ll show you how to use a Concrete Calculator, explain the concrete calculator formula, and break down related terms like concrete slab calculator, 1:2:4 concrete mix calculator, and more.

What Is a Concrete Calculator?

A concrete calculator is a digital or manual tool used to estimate how much concrete you need for a specific project. With just a few measurements—like length, width, and depth—you can quickly get an estimate of the total volume required, usually expressed in cubic yards.

For instance, when pouring a slab, knowing exactly how many yards of concrete you need can prevent you from wasting money or delaying your project due to insufficient material.

How to Use a Concrete Calculator Formula

To get accurate results, you’ll need to understand the concrete calculator formula:

Volume = Length × Width × Depth

Once you’ve calculated the volume in cubic feet, you can convert it into cubic yards by dividing the number by 27.

For example:

Length: 10 ft

Width: 10 ft

Depth: 0.5 ft (6 inches)

Volume in cubic feet = 10 × 10 × 0.5 = 50 cubic feet Volume in cubic yards = 50 ÷ 27 ≈ 1.85 cubic yards

So, for this project, you'll need around 1.85 yards of concrete.

Concrete Slab Calculator vs. General Concrete Calculator

A concrete slab calculator is a specialized version that helps estimate how much concrete you’ll need specifically for flat, horizontal surfaces like patios, floors, or driveways. While the general concrete calculator can handle any shape, the slab calculator is optimized for consistent depth and rectangular or square dimensions.

Understanding the 1:2:4 Concrete Mix Calculator

Another crucial aspect of concrete planning is understanding the mix ratio. A 1:2:4 concrete mix refers to a blend of 1 part cement, 2 parts sand, and 4 parts aggregate (gravel). This ratio is often used for structural concrete.

Using a 1:2:4 concrete mix Calculator helps you estimate how much of each ingredient you’ll need for your desired volume. This ensures strength, stability, and cost-efficiency.

Concrete Calculator Cost: What to Expect

When budgeting, it's not just about the volume—you should also consider the concrete calculator cost. The cost of concrete typically ranges from $125 to $150 per cubic yard, depending on your region and mix type.

So, if your calculator shows you need 3 yards of concrete:

Estimated cost = 3 × $135 = $405

Keep in mind, additional costs like delivery fees or additives (e.g., fiber reinforcement, accelerators) can also influence the final price.

So, How Much Is a Yard of Concrete?

You might be asking: how much is a yard of concrete? A single yard (or cubic yard) of concrete covers:

81 square feet at 4 inches thick

65 square feet at 5 inches thick

54 square feet at 6 inches thick

This is a vital metric when using any kind of concrete calculator—it helps you visualize just how far your material will go.

Final Thoughts

A reliable concrete calculator is a must-have for anyone working with concrete. Whether you're a homeowner tackling a weekend project or a contractor managing a job site, having the right estimate makes all the difference.

From the concrete slab calculator to the 1:2:4 mix calculator, using the right tools will save time, money, and stress. Make sure to factor in your concrete calculator cost and understand exactly how much a yard of concrete will cover.

Ready to plan your next project? Use a concrete calculator today—and build with confidence.

#Concrete Calculator #concrete slab calculator

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shashipundir · 1 month ago

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How to Calculate Concrete Mix Ratio on Site Without a Mixer

Concrete is the backbone of any construction project—whether it’s laying a foundation, building columns, or finishing a slab. But what happens when you’re working at a site where there’s no access to a concrete mixer? This is where knowing how to calculate the concrete mix ratio manually becomes not just useful—but essential. Let’s walk through a practical, field-ready approach to understanding…

#Building Construction #Building Foundations- Building Construction #Concrete #Concrete Mix Ratio #Concrete Technology #Construction material #Workability of concrete

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mjonthetrack · 1 month ago

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vice queen v

Chapter 13: Cards, Candy, and Consequences

The garage was thick with tension, engines rumbling faintly in the background like the heartbeat of a city ready to explode. Lo pushed through the heavy steel doors like she owned the place, Prada-clad and cool as hell, a blunt tucked behind one ear and long acrylics tapping the steel toolbox beside her.

The room was packed — three Cruz affiliates sitting around a fold-out table, casually tossing cards, laughing like they’d already won. One of them, the target, sat chained to a chair in the middle, defiant but cornered.

Lo’s eyes swept the room, sharp and calculating.

“Sup, fellas? Y’all got room for a couple more?” she said with a grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

Hands twitched toward guns.

Before anyone could move, Jacob appeared in the shadows, pistol low and ready, cold as ice.

Lo stepped forward, snatching a handful of M&Ms from the table’s candy bowl, popping them in her mouth with the kind of chill that screams, I run this shit.

“See, I only got room for two in my trunk,” Lo said slowly, “which means one of y’all is gonna play dead real quick ‘cause I ain’t making room for three tonight.”

The third guy’s grin vanished, eyes flicking between Lo and Jacob.

Jacob’s voice cut the silence like a knife. “We taking the affiliate and his backup. The third? He ain’t lucky enough to ride.”

Before the man could react, a sharp crack echoed—the sound of a gunshot hitting metal, the man collapsing with a startled grunt.

Lo tossed another M&M into her mouth, eyeing the fallen man without a flicker of sympathy.

“Next time you wanna play kingpin, bring more than two bodyguards, baby.”

Jacob clipped cuffs on the target and his backup, hauling them to their feet.

“Let’s roll,” Lo said, already moving toward the door like this was just another Tuesday.

The remaining Cruz affiliates glanced at each other, swallowing hard, knowing the war was just beginning.

Chapter 14: Crawling or Bust

The Cruz affiliate was wildin’ — snarling, thrashing like a cornered beast as Jacob tried to force him and his backup toward the car. The guy’s rage was pure fire, fighting like his life depended on it. Problem was, it did.

Jacob gritted his teeth, muscles tight as steel cables, pulling and pushing with everything he had. The backup guy kept his head down, compliant, but the main dude? Nah, he was in full defiance mode.

Lo let out a sharp groan from the passenger side, crossing her arms before she sighed hard.

“This shit ain’t gonna work,” she muttered, already unholstering her steel with a fluid motion that made it clear she wasn’t here for games.

The gun clicked loud in the cold night air — one precise shot tore through the silence and slammed into the affiliate’s knee like a thunderclap.

He screamed, the sound raw and broken, dropping to one leg immediately, clutching his ruined joint like it betrayed him.

Lo’s eyes were ice cold as she spat out, “The fuck you ain’t get about move? Now you gone crawl to the trunk.”

Jacob’s grip didn’t loosen, but he let the man fall, dragging the other by the collar.

The crippled Cruz affiliate snarled through gritted teeth, eyes wild with pain and fury, dragging himself forward with his good leg and hands, crawling like the boss he still thought he was.

Lo rolled her eyes, then shrugged one shoulder.

“Fuckin’ crawl or die here. Your call.”

Jacob just shook his head, muttering, “That’s why she’s the boss.”

The ride back to the bunker was tense — the affiliate’s low growls mixing with the heavy hum of the engine.

Lo and Jacob sat side by side, the air thick with danger and silent respect.

Chapter 15: Delivery and Drama

The Dodge rolled smoothly into the bunker’s underground garage, Lo’s eyes narrowing as she surveyed the spotless concrete floor.

She clicked her tongue with a sharp tsk and muttered, “You gone get blood on my concrete? Ion’ like that.”

Jacob smirked, stepping out and cracking his knuckles, while Lo hopped out, moving a heavy-duty cart on wheels toward the car.

With a practiced jerk, she hauled the bleeding Cruz affiliate onto the cart, no hesitation, no gentleness. The man hissed through clenched teeth, trying to resist but the steel grip didn’t budge.

Jacob grabbed the other guy—quiet but tense—and tossed him onto the cart like a sack of bricks.

The two men looked trapped, helpless beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

Lo pushed the cart down the concrete hall with an easy but determined shove, Jacob pacing alongside her, his eyes scanning for any sign of threat.

They reached the warehouse door where the core crew was gathered—Camille, Ariel, Marissa, Courtney, Sefa, Jey, Jimmy, Zilla—all pausing mid-conversation.

Lo knocked twice sharply, then swung the door open with a confident shove from her trademark Timberlands.

“Delivery,” she said, voice flat but deadly bored.

The group’s chatter died instantly, eyes flicking between the two women and the metal cart that carried the captured affiliate tied directly to the rare exhaust system Lo had busted earlier.

Jacob let his presence fill the room, standing tall beside Lo.

Everyone knew this wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill catch—this was the next big lead, and Lo and Jacob had handled it with their usual cold precision.

Camille’s brow lifted. “Bout damn time.”

Jey nodded silently, already scheming.

Marissa cracked her knuckles, eyes gleaming with lethal promise.

Lo leaned back on the cart, watching the room. “Let’s get this shit right.”

Chapter 16: Interrogation & Intensity

The war room hummed with low tension, the kind only a room full of cartel sharp minds can hold. The metal cart clanked as Lo rolled the captive affiliate inside, the man’s bruised face twisting with anger and fear.

Jey stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Camille, Marissa, Courtney, Ariel, and the rest circled the room like a pack of wolves, silent but ready.

Lo gave the man a once-over and spat, “You got two choices: talk, or get introduced to Marissa’s Glock. And trust me, she ain’t bluffin’.”

Marissa cracked her knuckles and pulled the Glock from her holster, the cold metal gleaming. Her grin was ice.

The captive swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. “I—I don’t know shit! I swear! Cruz—he don’t want no war. We keep it quiet!”

Camille stepped forward, voice silk wrapped in steel. “You will talk. Because the Fatu family don’t do quiet.”

Jacob leaned against the wall, watching Lo with a smirk. Lo caught his eye and nodded once—silent communication, electric with years of trust.

Ariel crossed her arms, eyes sharp as knives. “Start talking before we make this a long night.”

The man’s eyes flicked nervously between the squad. “Okay—okay! There’s a shipment coming in next week, near the docks. Cruz said it’s heavy, could change the whole game. Guns, drugs—the works.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. “Location?”

“East pier, Warehouse 27. Midnight. But… there’s a snitch. Someone’s feeding info to you, I swear.”

Marissa’s finger twitched on the trigger. “That snitch won’t be breathing much longer.”

Lo flicked her blunt from her mouth, eyes never leaving his. “Who is it?”

The man’s face twisted, voice dropping to a whisper, “I don’t know. Just a rat in the Cruz crew.”

Camille barked out, “That ain’t good enough. We find the rat, we make an example.”

Jacob’s voice cut through the room, steady and low, “We’re tightening the net. No slip ups.”

The captive swallowed, terror clear. Lo took a step forward, voice low but cutting. “You want to live? You’ll tell us everything.”

Marissa stepped in, gun aimed. “Starting with the shipment’s contents and the crew running it.”

The captive nodded frantically, sweat now streaming. “Guns. Big shipment. Five men guarding it. New recruits, but dangerous. Don’t trust the snitch either.”

Lo exchanged a glance with Jacob. “Good. You just bought yourself a chance.”

Jey stepped forward, voice calm but commanding, “Get him secured and prep for extraction. We move fast and hard. No mistakes.”

The room snapped into coordinated movement—discipline drilled into every Fatu member.

As they led the captive away, Lo and Jacob caught each other’s gaze. Silent understanding passed between them — this was far from over, but the family had the edge now.

Chapter 17: No Spittin’, No Slippin’ — OG Edition (Revised)

The captive spat at Lo, bold as hell.

Jacob’s head snapped to him, eyes sharp and cold as ice.

Before anyone could blink, Jacob’s hand shot out, yanking the man’s jaw to the side, clamping his mouth shut with a sharp crack.

His voice low and deadly: “Try that shit again, I’ll bury you where nobody finds you.”

The captive’s wide eyes begged for mercy, but it was too late.

Jacob’s fist slammed the man’s head against the steel table—BAM—blood and teeth splattered.

The room dropped into a thick silence.

Lo stepped forward, moving close to Jacob. Her long acrylic nails slid lightly over his waistband, grazing his skin in a slow, deliberate motion as she pulled his FN Five-Seven free.

Jacob’s breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

Lo leveled the pistol at the captive, voice smooth but venomous: “Fuck ass bitch got spit on my damn timbs.”

BANG.

The bullet tore into the man’s chest.

Lo lowered the gun with cool precision and glanced back at Jacob, raising one brow.

“That’s how we handle disrespect.”

Jacob exhaled, eyes on Lo, a faint smirk ghosting his lips.

“That’s my woman.”

No warnings. No second chances. Just raw power, respect, and a silent promise: no one disrespects the Fatu family.

Chapter 18: Power Moves and Quiet Flames

The war room buzzed with a charged energy as Lo and Jacob rolled in, the captive—now bruised and broken—slumped on the cart behind them.

Camille was the first to break the silence, eyes sharp as she took in the scene. “Damn, y’all don’t play.”

Sefa nodded, folding his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s how you set the tone real quick.”

Marissa, perched on the edge of the table, flicked a look at Lo and Jacob. “You sure know how to welcome guests.”

Courtney crossed her arms, eyebrows raised, impressed despite herself. “Guess that’s why they all scared to come through.”

Meanwhile, Jey and Jimmy were already off, dragging the affiliate through the bunker’s underground interrogation room. The brothers worked in sync, their years running the empire showing in every move.

Jey’s voice was steady but sharp. “You gonna talk, or we make this last real short?”

Jimmy smirked, cracking his knuckles. “Either way, you’re not leaving this bunker anytime soon.”

Back in the war room, Lo stepped close to Jacob, sliding the pistol smoothly back into his waistband. Her fingertips lingered just a beat longer, deliberately grazing the skin beneath his shirt.

“Thanks for the tool, Old Head,” she said, voice low, almost a whisper, eyes locked on his.

Jacob’s lips twitched, the corner of a smirk breaking free. “Anytime, Boss Lady.”

The room fell back into its rhythm, but between those two, the air crackled—silent, but electric.

Chapter 19: Casual Fire

Lo stepped out of her garage office, fresh change from the grease-stained coveralls she’d been rocking all day. She flexed in her tight Nike shorts—like booty shorts but with enough stretch to hug every curve—her toned midriff on display under a cropped tank that showed off her belly button ring and the swirling tattoos along her waist. Gucci slides clicked softly as she stepped out, the blunt perched behind her ear flickering with the first spark.

She took a slow drag, eyes catching movement.

There, leaning against the edge of the garage bay, was Jacob—arms crossed, that ever-serious look softening just a bit as he watched her.

Lo flicked her blunt and squinted, voice low but direct. “You need something, J?”

Jacob straightened, stepping closer, voice steady but easy. “Just checking if my boss lady’s ready to quit work and let the real fun start.”

She rolled her eyes, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “You know I’m never really off the clock.”

He laughed, deep and warm, eyes locking on hers. “Then I’ll just have to make sure the clock’s worth watching.”

Lo leaned back against the wall, blowing smoke rings lazily. “Bold talk for a man who’s been trying to steal my time for three years.”

Jacob’s grin widened, unapologetic. “’Cause stealing time from you? Best heist I ever planned.”

Chapter 20: Real Talk in the Garage

Lo stepped off her wall lean, gliding closer with that confident stride only she had. She stopped right in front of Jacob, arms crossed, eyes sharp like she was sizing him up. “You ain’t rolling with Zilla and the boys tonight? That whole married-or-coupled-up bro shit?”

Jacob smirked, shifting his weight but keeping his gaze locked on her. “Nah, I’m good. Figured I’d see if the one woman actually free for once wants some company.”

Lo raised a brow, a teasing edge creeping into her voice. “Well, lucky for you, none of the girls got me on baby-sitting duty tonight. I’mma just head back to the crib, stare at the ceiling, and probably plot my next ‘don’t ask me no questions’ move.”

Jacob chuckled, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Staring at the ceiling sounds lonely. Could use a little company for that.”

Lo’s eyes softened for a second before she smirked again. “Don’t get all soft on me now, Old Head. I’m still boss lady here.”

Jacob grinned wide, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Boss lady or not, I’m coming for my cut of that time.”

Chapter 21: Midnight Drives & Murky Lines

Lo raised a brow, her lip curled just slightly as she tapped ash from her blunt with a flick of those long, perfect acrylics.

“Your cut?” she echoed, walking backwards slowly toward her Impala, her tone dripping in sarcasm. “Didn’t realize I was portioning out my time like Sunday plates.”

Jacob opened his mouth, a grin creeping up, but before he could get a word in, she tossed something through the air—

Clink.

He caught the keys to her prized ride midair, and blinked.

The 1969 Chevy Impala SS, blacked out like a funeral with a growl that made men flinch and women stare, sat waiting like it knew it was about to be disrespected by someone not named Lo behind the wheel.

She tilted her head toward the car and smirked, already walking to the passenger side. “You know the way, big dog?” she tossed over her shoulder, her gold hoops swinging, “’Cause I don’t feel like driving right now.”

Jacob looked down at the keys like they were holy. “You letting me touch this?” he asked, damn near reverent.

Lo was already leaning in the open door, one leg still out, still dragging that blunt. “I let you carry my food, didn’t I? Don’t crash my shit, Old Head. I’ll leave you in the trunk with a love note and no teeth.”

He laughed, low and deep, walking to the driver’s side with swagger to match. “I ain’t ever crashed a thing I cared about.”

Lo raised her brow again, but this time with a softer curve. “Well, let’s hope you don’t start tonight.”

He slid in, adjusted the seat, and started the engine.

VROOOOMMMMM.

That growl shook the garage. She exhaled smoke slowly, nodding in satisfaction. “Alright, Daddy Daytona. Let’s ride.”

Chapter 22: Stone, Smoke, and Concrete Queens

The Impala pulled up smooth, the deep purr of the engine echoing off the cliffside walls like a warning shot. The driveway lights kicked on in slow sequence, one by one, illuminating a house that didn’t whisper wealth—it growled it.

Lo’s crib wasn’t just big. It was a statement piece. Concrete and glass, three stories perched dangerously over the edge of the ocean, like it was daring God to knock it off. The five-car garage doors were seamless in the wall like a military base. Black glass windows. No flowers. No welcome mat. Just a long-ass palm tree and silence.

Jacob whistled low as he pulled into the garage. “This what you be retreatin’ to? You live in a damn Bond villain lair.”

Lo rolled her eyes, already flicking her blunt in the ashtray. “It’s quiet, it’s gated, and ain’t no HOA to snitch when I test engines at two a.m.”

As they parked, a loud, guttural bark exploded on the other side of the interior garage door.

BOOM. BOOM. WOOF.

Jacob jumped slightly.

“Damn. Is that a dog or a demon?”

Lo was already out the car, snatching her tank top down a bit like it was the dog’s fault her midriff was showing.

She popped the garage door open and snapped, “Stone, I know you ain’t making all that damn noise!”

The barking stopped immediately.

A massive gray-and-white XL Bully Pit came trotting into view like he paid bills and had a gym membership. His wide chest and fat paws slapped the concrete, thick neck swinging with his chain collar as he slowed down, sniffed Jacob—then did a lil’ wiggle and plopped straight on his side.

Lo smirked. “Look atchu, showin’ out like you ain’t just tried to scare somebody.”

Stone huffed and wagged his tail like “yes ma’am.”

Jacob was still standing by the Impala. The dog turned his head, sniffed in his direction—then barked once.

Not loud. Not aggressive. Just one bark. “Aight, you cool.”

Lo raised a brow. “Well damn. You must be special. Stone don’t rock with nobody but me, Camille, and my old homegirl Raye. And even then, he side-eyes everybody that’s got a Y chromosome.”

Jacob finally stepped into the house, crouching to scratch Stone’s neck, grinning at the weight of the dog’s head.

Stone licked his hand, then leaned all his weight on Jacob’s foot like “this my cousin now.”

Lo watched, arms folded. “…That dog got better judgment than me.”

Jacob stood back up, brushing his hand off on his jeans. “Man got good taste.”

She snorted. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

As she turned to head deeper into the house, Jacob took in the high ceilings, the ocean air wafting in through the cracked patio door, and the heavy masculine-feminine energy that dripped off everything—from the sleek gunmetal couch to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase with a damn samurai sword mounted beside it.

He followed, Stone trailing behind them like security.

“You always this dramatic with the architecture?” he asked.

Lo glanced over her shoulder, her slides whispering across polished floors. “Yeah. But the real drama,” she said, unlocking a sleek black bar fridge and tossing him a lemonade, “is upstairs.”

He caught it, cracked the top, and grinned.

“Lead the way, Boss Lady.”

Chapter 23: Welcome to Hell, Captain

Jacob had his shoulders loose and a smirk playing on his mouth as he followed her up the black steel staircase. The lemonade in his hand was still cold, but the rest of him? Heated anticipation. The sway of her hips. The flex of her thighs in those Nike shorts. The way the house smelled like money and rebellion. Yeah, he thought he knew where this night was going.

Hell, he even popped a mint in his mouth, just in case.

Lo didn’t say much on the way up—just looked over her shoulder once, her locs falling like a damn crown around her face, and smirked like she already knew he was fighting the urge to lay her across the nearest piece of furniture.

At the top of the stairs, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a key fob, and tapped a sleek matte panel beside the tallest black double door in the hallway.

Jacob licked his lips, stepping up close behind her. “So you just keepin’ the main bedroom behind lock and key like a vault now?”

Lo didn’t even turn around.

The doors clicked open with a mechanical hiss.

She pushed one open and stepped inside, flipping a switch. Jacob followed…

…and stopped dead in his tracks.

A thick wave of humidity and the strong, unmistakable scent of high-grade marijuana hit him like a damn uppercut. Bright UV grow lights blinked on above rows and rows of lush, green plants in pristine hydroponic setups. Shelves of jars lined the far wall—every one of them labeled with handwritten names like “God’s Left Hook,” “Sour Texas Heat,” and “Beyoncé’s Elbow.”

The room was easily the size of a two-car garage. Clean. Organized. Professional. A damn weed paradise.

Jacob’s mouth opened slightly. “Yo…”

Lo turned to him, all grins and gold hoops, hands on her hips like a proud mama showing off her babies.

“Welcome to hell, Captain.”

Jacob blinked. “This ain’t a bedroom.”

She scoffed. “No shit, Sherlock. Why the hell would I sleep with all that ocean noise when I could sleep in peace on the couch downstairs with my blunt and peace lily? This right here? This my sanctuary.”

Jacob took another slow step in, surveying the perfectly tended grow ops, the hanging lights, the shelves with pH testing kits and mason jars like they were holding the cure for sadness. “You really got a full-on grow room in your house?”

Lo cracked her neck and stepped beside him, pointing with her long acrylics to a row of glistening buds. “Bout five strains are mine personally. The rest? Favors, debts, investments, experiments. One of these? Got a sleep terp so heavy it’ll make a grown man call his mama and apologize for shit he did at twelve.”

Jacob dragged his hand down his face, laughing softly. “I thought you was finna throw me on a bed or something, not in a hotbox from heaven.”

Lo stepped in front of him, her tank top clinging just right, lemonade still in hand. “What, you disappointed?”

Jacob gave her a once-over, slow and intentional. Then he leaned down slightly, voice low and teasing.

“I mean… I’m impressed. But I ain’t forget that text you sent earlier. ‘They pressin’ me about relationship BS again, old head 🙄’ —I figured that meant you was gon’ let me press a little too.”

Lo tilted her head. “And who said I ain’t?”

She leaned in, barely a breath between them. Jacob’s eyes darkened just a bit.

Then—

She shoved a jar into his chest. “But first, pick a strain. I need a second opinion on this new cross I cooked up.”

Jacob looked down at the jar. Up at her. Back down.

“This what we doin’?”

Lo winked, sauntering past him into the aisle of plants. “That’s what we always doin’, old head.”

Jacob stood there for a moment, trying not to laugh as Stone huffed at the doorway like, get used to it, bro.

He called out, “You know I ain’t goin’ nowhere, right?”

Lo, halfway into the rows of green, called back without missing a beat: “Didn’t think you would. That’s why I let you in.”

Chapter 24: Loft Views & Lit Reviews

The door sealed behind them with that smooth, mechanical hiss again—like the fortress was closing ranks. Lo moved ahead without a word, hips swaying just enough to make Jacob rethink every life decision that hadn’t led him to her sooner.

Her blunt was already lit, perched at the side of her mouth like a crown jewel of rebellion. She rolled his with muscle memory, fingers quick and clean, and held it out behind her without even glancing back.

“Go ‘head, OG,” she muttered, smoke curling from her lips. “What you think?”

Jacob took it with a grin, eyes dragging slow up the back of her thighs as they climbed the stairs to the loft space.

The woman had the audacity to walk like sin and smell like salvation. Fried rice, lemon pepper, Prada and pressure.

“Y’all got names for these strains,” he said, lifting the blunt to his lips, “this one got one?”

Lo paused on the last step, tossed a look over her shoulder, smirk playing on her lips. “Yeah. That one’s called ‘Truth Serum.’ Let me know if you start confessin’ feelings.”

Jacob laughed low, spark flaring as he lit the blunt and took a drag. Smooth. Heavy. That good-good—hit like a velvet hammer.

He blew the smoke up toward the high ceiling as they stepped into the open, moody luxury of Lo’s loft space. It was all blacks, charcoals, and warm amber tones. Exposed concrete. Velvet drapes. Gold accents. A wall of windows opened the room up to ocean views, moonlight shimmering on the water like it owed her something.

The bed? Massive. King-size, low to the floor, pillows and throws tossed across it like a magazine shoot. One side was chaos—records, hoodies, books about engine repair and world history—and the other was military neat. The contradiction made sense. It was her.

Lo plopped down on the edge of the bed, legs spread just slightly, blunt in one hand as she leaned back on the other.

“You ain’t said shit yet,” she said, watching him from under her lashes. “Don’t make me think you can’t handle ‘Serum.’”

Jacob took another pull, exhaled, and let it settle in his chest before he spoke.

“I think,” he said, stepping closer, “you been hiding this whole world in here, and I’m just now gettin’ the invite.”

Lo smirked. “I had to make sure you ain’t a snitch first.”

He stopped in front of her, tilting his head. “That why you been keepin’ distance for three years?”

She blew smoke out the side of her mouth. “That, and you a lot to handle, Fatu. Big, quiet, always lurking. Most women would fold for that. I like my odds clean.”

Jacob reached out, ran a thumb across her jaw, rough and reverent all at once. “Ain’t folded once, boss lady. But you best believe I been waitin’.”

Lo’s eyes flickered. For a second, the armor cracked. Just a second.

Then she stood up, stubbed her blunt out, and stepped into his space, voice soft but confident.

“Well, now you in. So whatchu gon’ do with it?”

Jacob kissed her.

Right then, right there, no warning—just heat and years of unspoken hunger. His hand went to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and hers curled in his shirt like she’d been holding that need too long.

When they broke apart, breathless and buzzed, Lo grinned against his mouth. “That blunt working too good.”

Jacob chuckled, voice husky. “Told you. Truth Serum.”

She licked her lips, eyes dancing. “Then you better tell me the rest, old head. Start with how long you been wantin’ to kiss me like that.”

Jacob grinned, the kind that showed his grills and none of his mercy.

“Three years,” he said. “And I’m just gettin’ started.”

#crime au #jacob fatu fic #jacob fatu x black oc #romance #x black oc #mature fic

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