#roll models auto

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The movie marathon had stretched late into the night. You were sprawled on top of Xavier, your head resting on his chest as the TV cast flickering light across the darkened room. His steady heartbeat had almost lulled you to sleep when you felt his hand shift slightly beneath you.

Smack!

The unexpected slap to your ass made you jolt upright, nearly headbutting his chin in the process.

“Did you forget about earlier?” he asked.

You laughed, settling back against him. “I thought you might have fallen asleep and forgotten.”

“I didn’t,” he replied simply, his hand returning to your backside. This time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers kneading the spot he’d just slapped. The tender motion contrasted with the playful smack from moments before.

He pulled you closer, adjusting your position against him until you were both comfortable again. The credits rolled on the forgotten movie as his fingers continued their gentle massage, his calm breathing eventually synchronizing with yours as you both drifted toward sleep.

As the auto-play feature started the next film in the queue, his free hand reached for the remote, lowering the volume to a soft background murmur. His other hand never left your backside, alternating between gentle squeezes and soothing circular motions that made you melt further against him.

“Your heartbeat speeds up when I touch you like this,” he observed quietly, the subtle change in his tone betraying his satisfaction at the reaction.

You mumbled something incoherent against his chest, too comfortable to form proper words. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your weight to better accommodate his frame, his hand continuing its ministrations with practiced ease.

“We should sleep,” he suggested, though his actions contradicted his words as his fingers traced the curve where your ass met your thigh. “Or would you prefer to continue this instead?”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Midnight had come and gone, but sleep remained elusive. It’s another day of Zayne had just returned from his grueling shift at the hospital, his tie loosened and suit jacket discarded as he prepared for bed.

“I need at least six hours of sleep before my morning consultation,” he muttered, setting his alarm.

You poked his side, deliberately disrupting his bedtime routine. “But I’m not tired,” you whined playfully, stealing his pillow and hugging it to your chest.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Return my pillow.”

“Make me,” you challenged with a grin, scooting away.

In one swift motion, he reclaimed his pillow with one hand, while the other delivered a firm smack to your pajama-clad backside.

Smack!

“That’s for being bratty when you know I need rest.” The sting lingered pleasantly as he settled beside you, drawing you against his chest despite your earlier antics.

“Sleep,” he instructed, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’ll have time for your games tomorrow.”

His breathing soon steadied into the rhythm of sleep, while you remained awake just a little longer, savoring the unexpected gesture from him. Despite his stated exhaustion, his hand remained active, tracing absent patterns along your hip.

He murmured against your hair, seemingly not as close to sleep as you’d thought, “You just have to be difficult before going to sleep.”

You shifted to look at his face, finding his eyes still open. “Someone has to remind the great doctor he’s human,” you replied softly.

His fingers tightened slightly on your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promised, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I’ll show you exactly how human I can be. Now sleep before I administer more persuasive methods.”

The implied threat only made you smile as you finally closed your eyes, lulled by his steady heartbeat.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Turn around again,” Rafayel instructed, his eyes focused intently as you modeled the fifth dress he’d purchased for his upcoming exhibition. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as you obliged, turning slowly to give him the full view.

“Perfect,” he murmured, approaching to adjust the way the material draped across your shoulders. “This shade of green complements your skin tone exactly as I imagined.”

As you moved to reach for the next outfit, his hand descended without warning.

Smack!

The slap against your ass echoed in the spacious bedroom, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“Rafayel!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him.

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, cutie. You look really good with the dress on.”

Your initial surprise melted as he pulled you close, his hands wandering dangerously near the spot he’d just slapped.

“The red dress next,” he whispered against your ear, releasing you with obvious reluctance. “Though I’m starting to think my favorite masterpiece isn’t hanging in any gallery.”

He retreated to his chaise lounge, watching appreciatively as you reached for the next dress, the memory of his touch still warming your skin.

“Wait,” he called suddenly. “Do that again—the way you just moved. Hold that position.”

You froze mid-reach, throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he breathed, grabbing the sketchbook that never seemed to be far from his reach. “The light catches your profile exactly right from this angle.”

You maintained the pose, feeling the spot where he’d slapped you still tingling pleasantly as he sketched, occasionally looking up to capture another detail.

“You know,” he said between strokes of his pencil, “I think I’ve just found the centerpiece for my exhibition.”

“A drawing of my ass?” you asked incredulously.

His laughter filled the room. “No, cutie—though that would certainly draw crowds. I’m thinking of something much more...personal. Now, try on the red dress, but move slowly. Every line of you deserves proper attention.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Rain pattered against the windows of Sylus’s room as you lay on your stomach, engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite show on your tablet. Completely absorbed in the climactic scene, you didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.

Smack!

The sudden, sharp slap to your ass sent your tablet flying from your hands. You yelped in surprise, rolling over to find Sylus standing over you, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.

“You look focused, sweetie,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

You glared up at him. “I was watching the season finale!”

“And now you’re watching me instead,” he replied, retrieving your tablet from where it had landed on the carpet. He handed it back to you, his fingers lingering against yours. “A considerable upgrade, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond with the retort forming on your lips, he leaned down, his voice dropping to that low timbre that always made your pulse quicken. “Consider us even. For now.”

He then left you to return to your show—though your focus was thoroughly shattered.

You returned to your previous position. Just as the plot was reaching its climax again, the bed dipped beside you. He had returned, two glasses of wine in hand, offering one to you.

He settled next to you, positioning himself so he could see your tablet screen, his thigh pressing against yours as if nothing unusual had happened between you moments ago. His free hand casually draped across your lower back, dangerously close to where he’d landed the mischievous slap, his fingers casually tapping your ass.

“So,” he said, sipping his wine and gesturing toward your tablet with his glass, “who’s the traitor? The brother or the assistant?”

You blinked in surprise. “You’ve been watching this show?”

His half-smile returned as he made himself more comfortable beside you. “I have my reasons for staying informed about your interests. Now, shall we finish this finale together?”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Steam filled the kitchen as you stirred the pasta sauce, following Caleb’s recipe while he chopped vegetables nearby. The domesticity of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comfortable and familiar.

“Can you pass the oregano?” you asked, gesturing toward the spice rack.

“Sure thing,” he replied, stepping behind you to reach for the herb.

As his hand extended past you toward the rack, his other hand made its move.

Smack!

The slap to your backside was anything but gentle, causing you to drop the wooden spoon into the sauce. Before you could react, he dissolved into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Your face!” he managed between chuckles, handing you the oregano as promised. “I’ve been waiting all day for the perfect moment.”

“Caleb! You—” You shook your head as you accepted the spice—and the fate of your ass. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his chopping board. “Dinner might be worth the wait, if you don’t let that sauce burn.”

You turned back to the stove as his laughter continued to fill the warm kitchen.

His laughter gradually subsided, but the atmosphere remained light as you both continued preparing dinner. Every time he passed behind you to reach for another ingredient or utensil, you tensed slightly in anticipation, unsure if another playful slap might be coming.

“Relax,” he teased, noticing your reaction. “I already got my revenge. Unless...” he paused dramatically, “you’re hoping for an encore?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress your smile. “Just focus on those vegetables before I decide it’s my turn for revenge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with an exaggerated salute, his grin never faltering. He resumed his chopping, occasionally humming a cheerful tune that matched his buoyant mood.

Smack!

“Just for fun, Pipsqueak,” he grinned unapologetically.

Okay… so… I kinda accidentally deleted the whole page of my Google Docs when I reached Sylus’s part, and I was just sitting there, like—😀💔 So, I had to write everything all over again in a bad mood 😭 I hope you still enjoy reading! ಡ⁠͜⁠⁠ʖ⁠⁠ಡ

[moremaybank]

Any Dad!JJ? You’re just one of the best at writing him.

dad!jj for the soul !!!!! i hope you enjoy, angel! i really enjoyed writing this one! 🤍

jj's elated when he sees his six year old babygirl, avery, walking out of her classroom. it's three-thirty on the dot, a time jj looks forward to daily when he picks up your daughter and takes her to work with him while they wait for you to meet them there after work.

avery reaches him, and he crouches down to her height so he can press a kiss to her cheek. "hi, babygirl."

"hi, daddy!"

he loves how chipper his little girl gets when she's around him. she lets it be known that she adores his presence, and that's what he's always dreamed of as a parent.

"mama killed it on your hair today," he says. he yanks gently at one of the braids you'd put into her hair earlier this morning. "look at these. phew. think my babygirl's a model."

she giggles at her father's affectionate words, cheeks heating with love. her squeals grow louder when jj scoops her up and makes his way to his truck. he buckles her into her booster seat, ruffling up the top of her hair playfully before shutting the door and getting into the driver's seat.

"hey, daddy?"

"'sup, aves?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot and starting on the journey to the auto shop.

"what colours do boys like best?"

he arches a brow. "what d'ya mean, sweet girl?"

"dunno...like what colour do you like most on mama?"

"hmmm," jj says, pondering out loud. "that's a hard one, baby. i think your mama looks good in everythin'."

an adorable huff escapes her pursed lips. "daddy. 'm serious. you have to pick one."

the truck zooms down the road, passing by avery's favourite fast food joint. jj can't help but speed up just a smidge, hoping and praying that she won't look out the window and wrangle a chicken finger combo out of him. 'cause then he'd have to get one for her. he's never said no to his princess and he doesn't plan on changing that any time soon.

"mm, i guess i'd say red. i like when she wears that matching lipstick too."

jj looks up at the rear view mirror, catching the way avery nods before a presumable heat takes over her face. the dimple she'd gotten from him peeks through as she smiles to herself.

"what're you smilin' about?"

"nothing, daddy. i just think i'm gonna wear red for the dance tomorrow."

he arches a brow, but he doesn't push her on her answer. "whatever you want, babygirl."

˖ . ݁ 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

jj hears the click-clacking of high heels against the floors of the auto-shop, and he doesn't need to wheel out from underneath the station wagon he's working on to know it's you.

"hi, mommy!" avery greets cheerfully, getting off the spinning chair jj had secured for her from the break room. she runs over to you as quickly as her smaller feet can manage, and you meet her with an equally thrilled grin. you pick her up and squeeze her into a tight hug.

"hi, baby." you smooth down some of her frizz. "how was school?"

"it was good. chrissy shared her chocolate bar with me, and kyle gave me a flower at recess."

neither of you can see it, but jj makes a face under the car.

kyle? who the fuck was kyle?

"he's a good best friend to you, baby," you tell her. "did you thank him?"

"yes. and he's not my best friend anymore, mama. he's my boyfriend."

this time, you do see jj's reaction. or, rather, hear it anyway.

"what?!"

something that sounds like a bang rings through the air, followed by a shit (to which your daughter snickers, always one to find her father hilarious). then, he rolls out from beneath the vehicle, rubbing his forehead to ease the sharp pain. his eyes find your daughter's, though, and he's as stern as you've ever seen him.

"aves— you can't have a boyfriend!"

"daddy, i'm six. i'm not a baby," avery reminds him, sounding every bit like a teenager instead of her actual age. the sass never failed to make you smile.

just like her daddy.

"yes, you are still a baby! my baby!"

"j—" you interject.

"nah. nope. no way."

"why don't you go back over there and colour, angel?" she nods, and you set her down, watching as she runs back to her chair. she takes a sip of her apple juice, bringing her attention back to her artwork.

deciding she's not at all bothered by jj's theatrics, you walk over to him and help him stand. you look up into his cerulean eyes when he towers above you. "babe, relax. she's six."

"exactly! she's a baby! she can't have a boyfriend. s'just not happenin'."

you give him a knowing smile, your arms looping around the back of his neck. "you were my boyfriend when we were six," you remind him. "don't think you found anything wrong about that back then."

he frowns, but pulls you in closer by your hips anyway. no matter what, any time he's around you without touching you, it just seems like a waste.

"that's different. i was a nice boy."

you both realize avery's been listening quietly when she chimes in. "kyle's nice too, daddy. he kisses my cheek everyday at the end of school."

she says it like it's a fact. like kyle never misses out on what infuriatingly sounds like a tradition to jj.

jj thinks he's having a stroke.

"he's puttin' his lips on you, now?!" his forehead falls to your shoulder, and he slumps against you like the six-foot baby he is. "oh god, i think i'm gonna be sick." a beat passes, and then he distances himself from you. the sulk is still prominent on his face, and now, it's probably permanent. he pulls at his collar, shifting uncomfortably as he tries to fan himself off. "'m i sweating?"

avery hops down from her chair, strutting over to her father and tugging at the leg of his coveralls, silently requesting that he crouch down to her height. of course, jj immediately falls in line.

"don't be mad, daddy."

"wait, wait, wait— is kyle the reason you're wearin' red tomorrow?!"

"don't worry, daddy." she pats his cheek like he's the one who needs reassurance. to be fair, he clearly is. "kyle's nice. just like you."

and with that, she trots off back to her chair with a cheshire cat smile, clearly feeling accomplished.

"yeah. he better be," jj mutters bitterly, standing back up.

your hands reach out to grab a hold of your husband again, and it draws his attention back to you. your hands frame his face and you give him a smile. "you're gonna be a total nightmare when she grows up and gets a boyfriend or girlfriend for real."

"damn right, i will. like i said, she's my baby."

you raise a brow. "i thought i was your baby?"

his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then his mouth forms into a smirk. "see now, she's my baby. but you're my baby." his hands migrate down to your ass and he gives you a squeeze. "you pickin' up what i'm puttin' down?"

"oh, i think i am."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

[staff]

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[rudysbabymama]

Take My Hand

Summary: bubbly!reader/ sorta introverted!readers car breaks down and she calls a local auto shop to get it fixed

AN: Older!JJ is being used this was requested by @loveu-always

Warnings: cursing, fluff, jj being super southern, jj flirting a lot, reader being shy at first, car breaking down on the side of the road, drinking, jj being slightly older than reader, jj missing his mama

you groaned, head resting n the steering wheel as you sighed in frustration. You checked your phone looking for the nearest repair shop, and found one about 30 minutes away.

you really didn’t have many options other then call a repair shop or call your dad telling him your car broke down, which you weren’t too keen on calling him because one, you recently dropped out of law school to go to school for art and biology and 2 you haven’t talked to him in a few days. Which left you with calling a repair shop, you didn’t feel like doing that either because it would cost you big time and you were struggling enough.

After sitting for about 20 more minutes thinking you decide to call the repair shop, holding it to your ear as it rang waiting for someone to pick up.

~at the repair shop~

jj grunts, sweaty and covered in grease as he adjusted a gear with a wrench. He rotated the wrench continuously and then heard ringing from the shop phone. He sighed looking towards the phone and then looked around. “Noah! Can ya get that!” He yells continuing to work on the engine of an old chevie truck “Noah get the goddamn phone!” He yells this time more aggravated

A scrawny brunette boy quickly runs out and jj glares at him slightly “when I ask you to get the goddamn phone, you need to get it. How many times to I have to tell you Noah” he scolds him as Noah rushes to the shop phone. “I know I’m sorry, I was talking to my mom. She wants to know when I’m gonna get off work” Noah says picking up the phone.

Jj rolls his eyes slightly, his mama was always worried about him. Always calling him, texting him when he’ll be home or where he is or what he’s doing. It annoyed the shit out of jj, but he did appreciate that Noah’s mom cared about him and that noah is extremely lucky to have a mother that cares. Sometimes he thinks hoping if his mom was still around that’s how his mom would’ve been.

He snapped out of it when Noah hung up the phone and walked over to jj, and put his hands in his pockets. “A girl that called, her care broke down near north port. She’s like 30 minutes down the road, she gave me her phone number to give to you” he tells jj as he kept working on tightening a couple more parts to the truck engine.

jj stands up fully wiping his forehead with a rag and studs it in his back pocket taking the small paper from Noah with your number on it “Alright I’ll talk to her get her exact location and head over thanks bud” he tells Noah scruff if up his hair before pulling his phone out typing your phone number into his. “I’ll tell you what, if you can stay a little later and watch the shop while I’m working on this girls car I’ll pay you extra alright, think you can do that for me?” “Yeah I can do that” “thanks buddy”

Jj grabs the keys to his work truck and his tools “I’ll be back in a bit alright?” Noah nods his head as jj leaves heading out.

~meanwhile you in your car…~

You kept looking at the time and you really, really, debated on hitchhiking since it was taking forever for jj to get there. You were about to get out of your car until you saw an old truck pulling behind you. Finally, you thought. You got out of the car with your keys and you closed the door waiting for the guy you called to get out.

jj got out, slamming the door then opening the backseat door grabbing his tool box and then shut the door heading over to you already looking at your car, trying to get a good look at the model you had. You had an older Ford two door truck with yellow accents. He thought it was cute for a girl like you, definitely a girly truck.

“So, what seems to be the problem ma’am?” He said in a sweet southern accent. You crossed your arms a feeling a little nervous, you didn’t think the guy coming to fix your truck was going to be good looking at all. You just thought it would’ve been some middle aged man in his 40s, but no. A guy, in his early 20s came to fix your truck.

“Umm my truck just started making this noise and- and um it just stopped and gas came out of the hood” you told him as he started look at the truck, “mind repeating the last part for me cutie.” He says smirking slightly as he glanced at you. “Um- it- gas started coming from the hood”

Your cheeks were bright red and you started biting your lip nervously, guys never talked to you like that. Like ever so this was a first for you and you didn’t know how to react or respond to it.“Mind popping the hood for me sweetheart” he says putting a toothpick in his mouth while putting the old rag he had in his pocket. You quickly opened the door getting in then you looked at the controls to your car. You panicked slightly since you didn’t know what button to press to pop the hood. JJ waited and then looked at you through the windshield and started walking over.

He put his hand on the door and leaned on it slightly, looking at you. “You gonna pop the hood so I can fix your truck or-“

“I don’t know how to pop the hood…” you say quietly and slightly embarrassed.

You started fiddling with your hands, jj saw and knew you were nervous and probably embarrassed that you didn’t know how to pop the hood to your truck so he tried easing the tension. “no need to be nervous darlin’ I’ll show ya how to pop the hood”

you nod your head and he reached in looking at the buttons silently trying to find the one to pop the hood. “Ah there it is, see this one pops the hood alright” he points looking at you “remember that alright?”

“Ok I will” you tell him pressing it. JJ glances around in your car seeing all the stickers and little cute knickknacks, scattered everywhere. “Damn girl, you gotta enough stickers in here”

you gave him a look and he chuckle, “I’m just asking sweets, I mean isn’t like a little kiddish to have all these kiddie stickers in here.”

“It’s not kiddish” you tell him crossing your arms pouting “oh don’t start with the pouting I was just asking that’s all no need to get worked up about it.”

He chuckled looking at you then went over to the hood pushing it up and starting to work on it. He was adjusting gears, oiling things on the engine and taking things out and putting things in as he kept working on it.

After about 30 minutes you came over standing next to him watching as he tightened a gear. “So what was wrong with it?”

“Well pretty girl, you gotta engine leak. Luckily it’s not too bad in your case, if you hadn’t turn the engine off it would probably be worse, but you did the smart thing.” You nod your head and then start thinking about how much you’re gonna have to pay for him to fix it “how-how much is this gonna cost” you ask nervously.

JJ pauses fixing the gear and then turns his head “well, short term takes a couple hundred dollars then long term so it doesn’t happen again takes a couple thousand dollars.”

“Oh” you didn’t know it would be that much and you started thinking about how you’re gonna be in debt since you knew you weren’t gonna be able to pay it off immediately. JJ notices your change in your body language and your facial expression and stand ups fully. “Look I’m not really supposed to do this but considering your young you probably don’t got a lot, I could discount it and work a price out for ya. Does that sound alright?”

“Really? You can do that?”

“Well I’m not supposed to but I’m going to, because I want to help you out a bit.”

You blushed slightly “thank you” jj chuckled at your red cheeks and smiled “your welcome sweet cheeks” he winks at you making your cheeks even more red and he goes back to working on your truck.

After and hour jj was sweaty and his hands are covered and grease, he finally finished fixing your truck and fixed the leak. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the rag in his pocket and then looked towards you sitting in the drivers seat gawking at him admiring his biceps in his cut off tank top. He smirked finding it cute that you were staring at him and he started walking over to the driver side and you stopped staring at him.

“You know I think it’s pretty cute you keep staring at me”

“I-I was not staring”

“Yeah you do, don’t deny it. I’ve been catching you looking at me darlin’”

“I am not” you crossed your arms furrowing your brows

“Sure your not” he smirks “try starting your truck, it should work”

You try starting your truck and thankfully it works and the engine goes on. Your eyes lit up and you smiled “It works!” JJ laughs and nods his head “yep” he pulls out a check and a paper and pen “so I’m gonna need you to sign here, and this is the shop number for you to have in case anything else happens to it.” you take the paper and start signing off on everything and jj then pulls his phone out while you finish signing the paper.

“And~ I’m gonna need your number cutie” he gives you his phone to put you number in

“Why?” You ask taking it

“For business purposes and stuff” you raised your eyebrow “business purposes?”

“Yeah like for asking when I can take you out on a date” you stopped when you were almost done typing your number in “your not serious” you start to laugh

“Darlin’ I’m being very serious” you stopped laughing “oh”

“What never had a guy ask for your number?”

“No, guys don’t usually ask me for that”

“Well that’s a shame cause there missing out on being with a cute girl like you” he leans on the door of the truck

“Thank you” you blush finishing typing your number in. “Here ya go” he take his phone looking at it then puts it in his pocket “thank you sweet cheeks, I’ll text you when I’m free to take you out or when we can meet up alright?”

“Ok” you nod your head jj was about to back to his truck but decided to not and instead gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks were bright red and you looked back seeing jj walk back to his truck and you started smiling big feeling all fuzzy inside with butterflies in your stomach.

As soon as he started driving off your pulled off the side of the road, turning up the radio the song ‘take my hand’ starting to play making you wonder how far this would go.

Au: sorry if this is super cheesy but that was what I was going for, a super, super, cheesy romance fluff fic. I hope you guys like it. 💗

[mrchiipchrome]

The Mechanic

W.C. - 4.2k

A/n: This was a bit rushed and not very good but anyways I’m going to bed now

——————————

Growing up, your father had been a mechanic and when you had days off from school he would bring you down to the auto shop he owned and worked at. Later, that would turn into you spending your afternoons and weekends down at the shop, learning everything there was to know about cars and how to repair them.

After graduating secondary school you were employed by the shop you had grown up in, rising through the ranks like any usual person would their job. You had close to no help from your father after your employment, he had always been clear that you had to work to get to your position especially if you wanted to one day inherit the shop.

So when your father died, you had more than enough experience with how to run an auto shop. In reality you were nothing less than a parentless kid trying to navigate their way through life without their biggest role model and simultaneous favorite person.

But eventually you found your footing, with the help of a bit of therapy that you'd gone to reluctantly, and had managed to find the balance between repairing cars and handling everything else that came with owning your own mechanic shop.

Still you consider yourself lucky, lucky for having Mitch who had been helping you with all the financials and all the other confusing things.

Mitch, or as you knew him Uncle Mitch, had been one of your father’s childhood friends and had been around since before you had been born. He was there for your father when your mother decided that she didn’t want to be part of your life and when he had no choice but to become a single father. He took you to school on the days your father couldn’t and helped you with school work.

So when a very pretty girl with car problems appeared one day, he was the first one to tease you about your obvious starstruck behavior.

—-

08.00 on a thursday and you’ve already been at work for a few hours, finishing up some paperwork and a couple small repairs on easier cars before all the other mechanics came in at 9. Hearing someone walk in through the open garage door is not an unusual feat, in fact you were used to your other mechanics coming in a bit earlier, so when uncertain footsteps echo in the peopleless shop you don’t roll out from where you’re situated under the car.

“Um, hi. My car just broke down like 2 minutes from here and I have no idea what to do.”

The soft fleeting voice is feminine and unfamiliar, definitely not one of your mechanics with their gruff chain smoking voices. Your head perks up and the hand holding the wrench from your tool set stills. With hands covered in soot and oil like most of your work clothes, you slide out from your place underneath the car.

“What seems to be the problem with it? Did it indicate something might've been wrong before it broke down? Any unusual sounds…?” Your voice trails off as you see the gorgeous blonde standing there looking around in curiosity, seeing all the different cars around the large shop. You just stand there, like an idiot seemingly enamored by the pretty stranger in front of you. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge your clear inability to act like a normal human as she directs her eyes toward you, eyes not even the greatest poets could try to describe.

The woman fiddles with the rings adorning her slender fingers as she rushes to explain the moments prior to her car stopping functioning.

“Oh god, yeah. I was supposed to come in for an oil change but then out of nowhere, my car started to make these kinds of crunching sounds and then there was a slight pop before it just broke down. Since I was supposed to come here, I knew it wasn’t that far so I left it with my friend and ran here for help”

The stress she’s feeling is evident in her actions and a surprising sense of protectiveness overtakes you, a feeling you can only describe as wanting to wrap her up in bubble wrap and protect her from the cruel world.

“Alright, have you called a tow truck yet?” The blush that immediately covers her face indicates that she had not, apparently not thinking that far. A sly smile takes over your face, fingers wrapping around a towel laying haphazardly on the deep red metal bench.

The soot and grime your fingers are covered in transfers over to the white surface of the towel, more soot at your hairline and your nose.

“You’re in luck miss, we have our very own tow truck.” Your hands shake deliberately as you try to lighten the mood, leading the blonde girl over to the regular truck you had. It was an old model, but damn if that car didn’t run perfectly. It had been a gift from Mitch for your 18th birthday, he knew that you adored putting excessive amounts of effort into your projects, and that car was truly a piece of work.

It had taken you a few short weeks to get it done, you were somewhat of a prodigy.

“Hey, take the passenger seat! I need you to show me where your car broke down.” You shouted as the blonde girl made no motion to move in any direction. She slowly shuffles her feet towards the car,enjoying the way your eyes raked over her body.

“Okay, so basically it’s just up the road, you’ll see a tiny dutchie standing beside it panicking.” She laughs softly as the last words escape her mouth, and in that exact moment you decide that it’s the greatest, most beautifully enticing melody ever created.

Your eyes are glued to the road, knowing that if you were to look into her eyes once more you’d get stuck looking at her. She felt like home even though you’d just met her moments before.

“Oh yeah? Why do you have a tiny Dutch person in your car?” The banter with you the girl you’d yet to get the name of was like you’d been friends for decades, you easily bounced retorts back and forth like great friends would.

“My teammate, we were driving to training and then my car decided that it didn’t want to work anymore. Wait, I haven’t phoned Jonas yet, I’m so dead.” You didn’t understand what she was talking about at the last part, the girl seemingly talking to herself.

Just like the woman beside you had said, there was a seemingly frantic short woman besides a white Mercedes. “How’d you know?” You ask the woman sitting in your car, her expression silly beyond comprehension. Her tongue was trapped between her teeth, her bright smile on display and her nose scrunched up adorably.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, right?” She fixes you with another cheeky smile, dark pink lips pulled together in the most admirable way. She was nothing if not perfect.

Her eyes shine brightly as you pull up next to her blinking car, the Dutch girl pulling the door open with a surprising amount of strength.

“Less, we are so late, Jonas is going to kill us!” Her foreign accent is quite noticeable, not that it bothers you. What did bother you was the way she threw the door of your beloved car up so violently.

“Yeah Vic, I know.” Less, as you’d come to know, told the other girl, Vic. Vic’s eyes flit over to you, taking in your non-threatening appearance and awkward smile. You wave at her before exiting your truck.

“So if you don’t mind, I’ll just pop your hood and try to find the problem.” You spoke to the taller of the two girls in front of you, who nodded her head vigorously, allowing you to do whatever it was you needed.

The smoke that escaped from beneath the hood concerned you, as did the heat of the motor beneath your fingers. It didn’t look too good for the blonde’s car, but for both her and your sake, you didn’t tell her.

“Well it’s definitely a problem with the engine, that much I’ll tell you.” A bit of worry seeps into your tone and Alessia doesn’t seem to like it.

“But my car will be fine right?” She was worried beyond recognition.

“Yeah, they say that I’ve got magic fingers for a reason” You sent her a quick wink, the statement true in both ways. The blonde’s face darkened significantly, red sprouting at every soft turn of the face.

“Okay there Casanova, why don’t you just hook the car to yours and take it back to the shop?” The dutchie’s tone left no room for argument, clearly she was protective of the blonde.

Pulling the wires from your trunk, you quickly hooked her car to yours in a safe way, making sure that her keys were out of the ignition and that her car was completely turned off.

Vic jumped into the backseat begrudgingly whilst Less took her place in the passenger seat.

You drove back to the garage in a slow pace, not wanting to damage the car behind more, plus you got to have the beautiful blonde in your car for longer.

“Less, how are we supposed to get to training if your car’s like that?” The girl in the backseat frowns at the blonde through the mirror, but you’re already multiple steps ahead, having put your thinking hat on before.

“I can drive you, and if y’all want we can take my coolest car too.” You spoke up nonchalantly, even though you were riddled with anxiety inside.

Less shakes her head softly, putting a soft and warm hand on your shoulder, stroking down your arm.

“It’s no problem really, we’ll just take an Uber.” She waves you off, despite seeming quite excited at the prospect of showing up to ‘training’ in a cool car.

“It’s no bother, my mechanics don’t come in until 9 so I’ve got time to kill. Plus, I haven’t been able to take the baby out for a while, needed to fix her up a little after the last time.” You laugh out, hand coming up to rub at the back of your head as you pull into the workshop.

“Take your things from your car and follow me.” The two of them do exactly as you say, getting their duffle bags from the white car.

You take them to the very back of the workshop, back to the garage where you kept your most prized possessions. In the smack middle it stood, your baby.

A 1968 Ford Mustang.

It was a gorgeous, shiny black color and you’d picked up a fair few ladies with it, just like your father did before you. He’d got it from his father, they’d started working on it before your grandfather died, and your father vowed to complete the work with his child.

Unluckily, your very own father died before the project was done, and so you were left to finish it.

“Here’s my beauty, my 1968 Ford Mustang, ain’t she a beaut?” You asked the two girls, standing behind you with their mouths wide open.

“Where’d you get it? Aren’t they super expensive?” Vic asked and Less slapped her arm harshly at the latter question.

“Passed down to me and yes, they’re incredibly expensive.” You could see how their eyes looked over your car, it was safe, modernized just enough so that it wouldn’t lose its charm.

“Right, you two can squabble about who sits in the passenger seat and who sits in the back, I’ll take your bags though, no scratching my paint.” You pluck their bags from their hands and put them in the trunk whilst Less and Vic actually squabbled.

Eventually, it was Less who won the battle, her hair blowing in the cool wind that passed you by as you drove. You’d gotten the address from the younger of the two as soon as you all got settled in the car.

When you finally pull up in front of the seeming training center, it’s to the sight of multiple girls standing with mixed expressions. Some were stern, others were shocked and some were confused.

“Alessia Russo, Victoria Pelova, where have you been?” The short woman at the front asks sternly, though shock does seem to flutter over her face for a second as she clocks your ride.

“Well my car broke down so I walked to the workshop not too far away-“ Alessia starts sheepishly, her fingers scratching at her forearm.

“Where she met Casanova, who decided to help by getting Lessi’s car to the shop and then driving us here in her sweet ride.” Vic finishes off Alessia’s sentence, patting your shoulder as she climbs out of the car. Alessia once again blushes at the name Vic gave you, just as you roll your eyes at it.

“You have a really beautiful car, miss.” One of the more sheepishly shy looking girls tells you, she had an accent you just couldn’t place.

“Thank you dear, tell me, where is it you come from? I can’t place your accent.” You ask her softly, not wanting to scare the young girl.

“Uhm, Denmark miss.” She looks down at her feet, shuffling them around as she blushes more than usual.

“Oh, I’ve never been, do you have any recommendations for me when I visit?” That seems to set the young girl off as she starts to babble on about different places to visit and where you could find the best food.

Alessia looks on as you engage with her teammate, with you leaning back on the side of your car and Katherine standing in front of you.

A sudden loud noise comes from your phone, and you recognise it as the jingle you’d put for Mitch.

“Hey uncle Mitch, whatchu calling me for?” You answer the call quickly, waving a little at the girls you’d met before.

“Where are you? The shop’s empty and I don’t know if I need to remind you, but your employees arrive in 10 minutes.” He was pretty clearly stressed about your current predicament.

“Oh shit, listen Mitch I needed to help a client and I took the Mustang so I’ll be back in like, 5 minutes.” You knew that he knew exactly why you’d taken the mustang, it was simply a lady magnet.

“A ‘client’ of course, that's what your dad always said when he wanted some alone time if you know what I mean.” Even if you couldn’t see your uncle’s face you knew that he was smiling and winking slyly. Your face scrunches up uncomfortably at the insinuation, not really wanting to know of your father’s ‘endeavours’ before you.

“Ew gross Mitchy, it’s not like that.” The whisper-shout you let out into the mic has the women around you looking at you weirdly.

“Alright, alright, I’ll open for the guys but you make sure that you don’t get in too late, you still have that car from a couple days ago to finish.” Rolling your eyes at the older man, you climb back into the car and put the keys into the ignition, turning the car on and saying a quick goodbye to the girls you’d given a ride to, telling the gorgeous blonde that her car would be done in the next few days.

You were fully on the road when the blonde realized that you hadn’t given her your number, which meant that she didn’t know when her car would be done.

You on the other hand knew exactly what you were to do when the car was done, it really wasn’t hard to make the plan.

—————

“Uncle Mitch? I’m going away for like an hour to help a client, so let the guys go on break for an hour and a half. They sure do need it.” You call out for your uncle who found himself at the shop more often than not.

“Okay kid, just make sure not to fool around too much okay? I know how you are-“ He starts off with a large smile on his face before you interrupt him with your own sentence.

“Yeah just like my father, I know, it’s kind of who I was raised by, you know.” You smile at the old man whose hair was graying and face wrinkled. He was like another father figure.

“Yeah, yeah, off you go to see Juliet.” He responds, shooing you out of the main room and towards the private garage where your Mustang was located.

“What is it with people naming us after old romance stories?!” You say exasperated, but the blush covering your face tells a different tale.

Revving up your car, you quickly pull out of the garage and pull out onto the road. The wind blows through your hair and the freeing feeling makes you smile, the hot summer breeze never failing you.

As you pull up to the training grounds there’s a large group of people exiting the building, training bags over their shoulders as they talk eagerly with each other. They do notice the car that didn’t fit in, black leather seats and black shiny exterior.

When their resident clumsy friend spots the car she trips over her feet, luckily enough for her, Vic is right beside her and she manages to catch the falling forward. It’s no easy feat by any means, but the smaller midfielder manages to pull her back to her feet.

When you pull up next to them, she comes up to greet you.

“Hi Casanova” She starts off, smile splitting her face open from ear to ear. Your face mirrors hers, the stupid nickname seemingly stuck around.

“Hi Alessia, I was popping by to pick you up as the work on your car is done.” The forward eagerly puts her bag in your backseat before she’s plopping down in your passenger seat. She smiles even wider as she realizes the soft rock flowing out from your radio. All of a sudden her face turns into a mess of confusion and a bit of fear.

“Wait, how did you know when my training ended?” She was staring deep into your soul, eyes glistening in the sun.

“Well I had a little help.” Turning around to face her Dutch friend, you can see the way she winks at the blonde sitting beside you, who merely raises an eyebrow at her. There were more questions to be answered but she decided that it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Are you ready to go back to the garage?” You ask her softly, her face just so enticing that you could do no more than whisper in her presence. She nods her head though and as you’re pulling out of the parking lot you both hear a:

“Don’t forget protection!”

The blush that comes over her face makes her look like an overly ripe tomato, though you don’t have much to say, looking like a tomato yourself.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, Alessia looking out at the streets of London like she'd never seen anything like them before and you admiring her at every red light. It’s not until you pull up at the shop that she looks at you properly, her eyes glimmering.

“So if you just follow me out here, I’ll lead you to your good as new car.” She exits your car to follow you out and towards her own, the Mercedes that you’d put extra time and effort into. Nothing but the best for the gorgeous girl.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to save the day, I really do owe you one.” Her seemingly never ending smile shines even brighter at the sight of her car, and as she turns to you it seems to get impossibly brighter.

“Well it’s my job you know, I kind of own the place.” It’s a hastily thrown out comment that seemingly piques her interest, Alessia’s hand coming up to rest on your slightly sooty arm.

“How do you own this place? I don’t mean it in a condescending way or anything but it’s just that you’re so young and pretty and you don’t seem like the type to buy a workshop.” She rambles in her nervousity, eyes shifting around the shop like they’d done only days before.

“I inherited it from my dad, the same with my car. He uhm, he died and my mom is like fully out of the picture so I got most of his stuff, my uncle Mitch also got some stuff but I was the main person.” She was so easy to talk to, you’d only met her days before and it felt like you’d known each other for years. Your dads death wasn’t something that you talked about often or with most people, so your heart had really taken a wild leap for the young striker.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I know that he’s watching you with pride wherever he is.” Her hand rubs up and down your arm comfortingly, smiling sorrowfully at you as you recount your grief at the most important person in your life’s death.

“It’s not your fault, he lived his life to the fullest so I know that he was content when he died…” Alessia notices the want to change the topic of your conversation and so she shifts it to something more trivial.

“Uhm, how much do you want me to pay for this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly at the whiplashing change of topic.

“You can pay with a hug and a kiss?” You joke lightly but it seems like the forward takes it seriously, as her hands come up to slither back around your neck, fingers tangling in your baby hairs.

Big hands settle on the blonde’s waist as she moves her face closer to yours, leaning up to rest her lips against yours in a soft embrace.

The kiss is nothing short of magical and as her tongue pokes against your lips you open your lips, basically french kissing the girl in the middle of your workshop. The kiss only breaks apart as whistles from your employees ring out throughout the shop, the guys having come back from their break.

When they finally quiet down it’s by the threat of you withholding their next paycheck and they all look away as you peck the girl’s lips a few more times before letting her leave in her fixed up Mercedes.

“Not a word of this to Mitch.” You look at them all sternly, but the knowledge that all of them had basically watched you grow up made you realize that they definitely weren’t scared of your empty threats. They sealed the deal by chuckling at you before turning back to their individual projects.

————-

In the weeks following the blonde leaving your motor shop she’d come in more than once for imaginary problems with her car, which you knew was just an excuse to see you. No one had that many problems with their car.

When she comes in fully unexpected one Thursday it’s with a fleeting problem with her motor from before.

“Hi Y/n, my car has been acting up a little again, mind checking it out for me?” She pops her head into the shop after hours, you’d just been finishing up some paperwork that needed to be done.

“Alessia, you do know that you can just ask me out on a date instead of making up problems with your car?” You prayed that you’d read the situation right, otherwise it’d be quite the awkward conversation.

“Oh thank you, it’s really hard to just come up with problems out of the blue” Her body leans on her hands that are now pressed against your desk, her face close to yours.

“So, are you going to ask me?” You ask her the question you’d been thinking about for a while, her face and the tops of her ears turning red.

“Y/n/n do you want to go on a date with me?” She asks nervously, like you’d ever reject a girl like her, a beautiful and kind soul that did nothing if not light your day up with her made up problems.

“Of course I would Less.” You respond to the girl, only for her to lean forward and capture your lips with her own. People always talk about the first kiss, but the second kiss was always so much better, and all the kisses after that were pretty great too.

Who would’ve thought, a footballer and a mechanic getting together, the very own Casanova and Juliet of the world.

Maybe some weird romance book would be written about it in a few years, but for now you were content with watching the stars with your gorgeous girlfriend in your less gorgeous (but still very beautiful) car, sharing deep kisses into the night.

[deanwinchesterswitch]

A New Year

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean’s girl knows him well. It only takes a few choice words to convince him to join her for a fancy New Year’s Eve celebration. However, neither needs to be seduced into admitting that the after-party is the best part.

Word Count: Part One~1,458; Part Two~1,458

Warnings/Info: Fluff; Teensy bit of angst if you blink; Sexy foreplay; Implied smut; Established relationship

Author Notes: This started as an aesthetic ask from @justagirlinafandomworld—Dean Winchester and Fancy Party. Then, it became a random idea that ran away with itself by turning into two aesthetics. A little drabble idea appeared for one and then a ficlet for the other. Now, it is a two-part short story. Yvette, this probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you made the request, but I hope you like it. Sorry that it took so long.

Credits: A shout-out to @princessmisery666 for the review and support. Any mistakes are mine.

Photo Sources: (x, x, x, x, x)

Dean is not happy with the surprise that you bought a New Year’s Eve package at a fancy hotel in Kansas City. He is even less thrilled when you inform him it is a themed party and he will need special attire.

Brow adorably scrunched with his arms crossed over his chest, he glowers at you. “Why the hell would you think I’d want to drive four hours, then dress up in some clown suit to spend the evening with a bunch of bozos I don’t even know?” Taking a step closer, he gently grips the back of your arms and pouts. “I thought we were going to have a private celebration? We have the whole bunker to ourselves.” Waggling his eyebrows, he gives you a cheeky grin. “Naked tag. Doesn’t that sound like more fun?”

Patting his chest, you sweetly smile. “Did I mention that it’s a 1940s theme, and I have a sexy little number picked out already?”  Voice laced with a hint of a whine, you slide your hand down his chest and away just as it reaches his belt. “I thought since you were so giddy when you told me about how much fun you had with Ness that you might enjoy this, but …” pouting oh so prettily, you shrug, “I guess I’ll see if I can get a refund.”

Still holding your right arm, he doesn’t let you get far as you turn away. “Alright, alright. Just,” he tries to hide his excitement, but his eyes are practically sparkling, “hold on a minute. One, I wasn’t giddy …” 

You arch a brow with an incredulous look, and he huffs, “Shut up.” 

Curious to hear how he backtracks his rejection, you bite your lip to hold back your laugh.

“And B, you really want to go to this, huh? You already have a dress?” He makes a show of mulling over his decision while you feign hopeful innocence. “I suppose …since you already spent the money …”

“Really?!” Instead of calling him out, you pretend to be surprised at his apparent change of heart and push up to peck his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settle back on your heels. “You’re the best, Dean.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” He chuckles, returning the kiss, knowing you had him pegged from the start.

“Okay, come on! There’s something else I want to show you.” 

“Is it that sexy little number you mentioned?” 

Rolling your eyes at his cheesy grin and arched brows, you grab his hand and pull him along behind you toward the garage. “No. You don’t get to see that until the party.” Dean mutters his disapproval but follows with little resistance. 

You smile at him over your shoulder as you reach the staircase to the garage. “Trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then close your eyes.” Although he could probably find his way blindfolded with both hands tied behind his back, you take his other hand as his lids fall closed and guide him up the stairs. After positioning him for the perfect view, you stand to the side. “Alright, you can look.”

Dean blinks, eyes widening when they register the sleek black vehicle before him. “What’s this?”

“This,” you enthusiastically say, stepping over to the car and adopting your best auto show model pose, “is a 1940 Chevrolet Coupe Street Rod.” 

With a hint of exasperation, Dean states, “I know that. What’s-”

“Patience,” you cut him off, pointing an admonishing finger at him. Dean huffs, but a hint of a smile forms on those pouty lips as you continue. With a flourish of your hand, you wave it over the hood and intone, “Beneath the lovely Black Rose exterior is a 355 cubic inch V8 engine, a formidable powerhouse that can reach speeds of 125 mph,” adding with a wink, “You’re going to love the growl.”

Dean bites into his bottom lip, eyes crinkling at the corners as you glide back to the driver’s side door.

“This particular vehicle has been updated with several modern conveniences—power steering, power disc brakes, power trunk and seat, a tilt wheel, cruise control, electric wipers …and a killer stereo system.” Opening the door, you seductively ask, “Would you like to try it out …Sir?” 

His eyebrows pop, lip slipping from beneath a sharp canine, thick tongue slicking over the plump pink flesh to soothe it. The action kicks up your pulse, and you step aside with a heavy sigh as he approaches the vehicle.

“Hello, beautiful,” he husks, reverently running his fingers over the chrome louvers. Stepping around the door, he takes a quick peek inside, whistling low before straightening to circle the car, whispering sweet words as he goes.

“You're going to make Baby jealous,” you tease when he comes to stand beside you.

“Nah. She knows that no one can take her place.” He turns to look lovingly at the Impala before looking back at the coupe, “But this is a sweet-looking ride.

The way he says it makes you wonder where you now fall on his list. As if sensing your thoughts, he puts an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to whisper, “Just don’t tell her you’re my number one.”

“Mum’s the word,” you say, making a gesture of locking your lips.

Laughing, he kisses the top of your head. “So, you gonna tell me where this came from? My birthday isn’t for a few weeks yet.”

“Haha. No. I love you, but this is a bit out of my price range. I rented it for the week. I thought showing up at the party in style might be fun.

“Hey! Baby’s stylish.”

Elbowing him in the side, you huff, “In era-appropriate style.”

“You were that sure I’d say yes?”

“If you hadn’t, we still could’ve had fun tooling around town.” Shrugging, you pull the keys from your pocket and dangle them in front of him. “I need to pick up my dress, and you need to get suited up. So, you wanna test it out?”

Snatching the keys from your hand, he exclaims, “Abso-fucking-lutely!” 

You wouldn’t have believed it possible, but Dean’s whole demeanor seems even brighter as his gaze travels the expanse of clothing racks upon entering the vintage resale store. After telling him not to worry about the cost and to get whatever he wants, he turns into the proverbial kid in a candy store.

Knowing why he takes such unadulterated pleasure from simple things, you ignore the twinge in your chest and the tear threatening to tip over your lashes, rushing after him to share his joy. After about thirty minutes, though, you grow tired of trailing after him like a puppy and decide to go sit by the dressing rooms. You’ve actually begun to doze when you hear a gruff “Hey.”

Blinking a couple of times, your eyes finally focus on the dreamboat before you. The suit fits him like it was tailored to him—crisp white shirt, tie perfectly knotted, vest hugging a trim torso, jacket draped perfectly on broad shoulders, and trousers exquisitely encasing muscled thighs to flawlessly land at the perfect length above his shoes. You’re like a fish out of water, mouth gaping, struggling to find words. Your only coherent thought is, how the hell did he get his hair smoothed over like that?

“It’s exactly like the one I wore as an Untouchable,” he animatedly declares as he makes his way over to the three-paneled dressing mirror. You don’t have the heart or presence of mind to correct him. “You okay over there?” His reflection's smug grin and piercing eyes have you clamping your mouth and thighs closed, sitting up straighter on the cushioned bench.

“F-fine,” you manage to squeak out.

“Sure you are.” Dean laughs, kissing the top of your head as he passes by. “All I need now is the overcoat and hat. Oh, and cuff-”

His voice fades as he crosses the store to the outerwear section, and you take a moment—or three—to compose yourself before following him.

It took a little finagling to keep the outfits as wrinkle-free as possible, but the garment bags and hatbox are settled neatly in the back of the coupe. As you reach to open the passenger door, Dean spins you into his arms, a bit of apprehension marring his expression. “Why’d you do all this?”

The question isn’t as simple as it seems, nor is the answer, but those details don’t need to be aired right now. Cradling his face in your hands, you give him your sweetest smile. “Because we deserve it. A new year. A fresh start. So let’s have some fun.”

The boyish grin makes you laugh. The heat in his kiss makes you melt.

After-Party

Photo Sources: (x, x)

The celebration was amazing! The decorations were extravagant, the food delicious and plentiful, and the alcohol flowed freely. The partygoers were raucous but fun. Though the band only played 40s-era music, Dean grudgingly admitted they were talented and helped create a decade-appropriate ambiance.

Seeing Dean truly relax and enjoy himself in the crowd-filled room brought tears to your eyes more than once during the evening. Without the burden of another impending world-ending event—the only threats being getting a drink spilled on you or someone stepping on your toes on the crowded dance floor—the two of you had been able to focus on the festivities and each other. You’d even managed to get him to dance with you a few times. The fireworks display was spectacular. Maybe not as spectacular as Dean’s midnight kiss, but still fabulous. 

When you kick off your shoes in the elevator and refuse to put them back on, Dean gives you a piggyback ride to the Deluxe VIP Suite included in your package. Tears of laughter at the way he literally gallops down the hallway with the skirt of your dress billowing behind you make it a struggle to unlock the door, and he nearly drops you on your ass when he tries to help. 

Once inside the room, Dean refuses to let you down, taking a tour of the large space, including the view from the balcony, before finally dropping you on top of the suite’s ornate bed. Still giggling, you watch as he double-checks the door locks and scans for potential threats—old habits still adjusting to the new minimal monster world order. Draping yourself across the crisp white bedding, you not-so-patiently wait for him to join you.

You promptly feel the shift in his mood as he removes his jacket, placing it neatly over the back of the chair near the bed. Looking up as he removes his cufflinks, he instructs, “Take it off. Show me what’s underneath.”

Crawling to the end of the bed, your pulse kicks as you stand. He’s had you on edge all evening, hands roaming flesh left bare of fabric, lingering looks, and whispered words of devotion and lust. He was so attentive that only one of the many individuals you noticed admiring him throughout the evening dared to approach him. When she had the audacity to plop down onto his lap, he immediately stood, unceremoniously dropped her onto the chair, then reached for you and walked away without a backward glance, but not before you got a few choice words in.

“You’ve been teasing me all night. That barely there dress, those red-stained lips putting that obnoxious blonde in her place. I have to say, it's hot when you get all jealous like that. I wanted to drag you into the coat room and take you right there.”

“Me?! Teasing you?! You���re the one that’s been doing all the teasing! Those hands …with the touching, the dirty talk with that voice …that …,” you flail a hand in his direction, “that getup! I’ve been wet since you put those cufflinks on. And I wasn’t jealous,” you spout, “she was just out of line.”

Dropping the aforementioned accessories on the nightstand, Dean hums his disbelief as he rolls up his shirt sleeves, and you shift, rubbing your thighs together, remaining indignation transforming into arousal. Dean chuckles, knowing full well what he’s doing to you.

“Show me,” he calmly orders, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes …Sir,” you consent, earning a twitch of his upper lip. Truthfully, you would have removed every article of clothing as soon as the door closed behind you, but earlier you had agreed to follow his command when the two of you returned to the room.

The dress is a replica of one worn by Rita Hayworth, but your lingerie isn’t entirely historically accurate. You hope he enjoys it nonetheless. Unhooking the collar, you slip your arms from the jeweled straps and let the bodice fall to bare your chest, reaching behind you to unzip the skirt. Chiffon and lace slither down your body to form a halo at your feet, and you slowly twirl in place to give him the full view. When you meet his gaze again, the slight curl of Dean’s lips and the glint in his eyes let you know he approves of your choice. 

“Back on the bed.” The demand is gruff, his tone smooth, warm, and dark with a little bite—like the finely aged bourbon at the party. It settles on your flesh and seeps into your pores, warming you from the inside.

Settling into the middle of the mattress, you turn to find him unbuttoning his vest. The vintage suit—frustratingly for you—holds as many layers as his hunting attire. However, Dean makes a show of undressing, his heated stare never once leaving yours, and the final display is well worth the price of time.

When his boxers hit the floor, he steps from the layers of fabric at his feet and reaches for your ankle, pulling you to him. For a brief, glorious moment, his hard length is mere inches from your face. Calloused fingers grip your chin as you lean forward, tilting your head back and holding you in place.

“Not yet.” He chuckles when you whimper. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”

Dean places a gentle kiss on your lips, the tip of your nose, and then your forehead before straightening to ghost his fingers across your collarbone and down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Lightly cupping the side of your breast, his thumb caresses your nipple until it’s taut and your chest is heaving. “Deeean …,” you whine when he drops his hand.

With a hum, he drops to his knees between your legs, hands resting on the downy comforter on either side of your hips, no part of him touching you. “Patience,” he drawls. “Keep your hands on the bed.”

The intensity of his stare makes you gasp. Leaning back, you fist the bedding, spreading your legs wider. His touch is feather-light, teasing as he traces the top edge of a stocking. Heat suffuses your veins, and nerve endings spark, making your skin prickle with desire.

“You’re stunning.” Releasing the clasp on the first strap, he drags his bottom lip through his teeth, watching as your breath hitches. “Thank you.” He grins, popping another clasp.

“F-for what?” The words are barely audible. Dean’s agonizingly slow movements and playful smirk have your fingers bunching the thick cotton in a death grip and your heart beating like the band’s bass drum.

“For planning all this, knowing what I need before I do,” another clasp is freed, “for the car and wearing that dress,” your stockings are liberated from the final clasp but he pauses, looking at you with—well, there’s no other way to describe it—a sinful smolder, his voice intoxicatingly resonant, “for always being such a good girl for me.”

Your head falls back with a moan, your hips canting forward as your walls throb with need. A finger grazes the top of your thigh, slipping beneath the edge of lace and silk to stroke between your lips and circle your clit. Disintegrating onto the mattress, you keen, “Pleeeeeease …,” begging for more …for anything …for everything—the warmth and weight of his body caging you, hands gripping and manipulating you to his whim, teeth biting, lips sucking bruises into your flesh, his cock filling and splitting you open.

“Almost.” 

The tightness in his tone has you smiling as you close your eyes. He’s on edge, too. It won’t be long before he gives you what you want. Tilting your hips as he drags your panties down, you release your fists, flexing your fingers to ease the joints, body jolting with a deep inhale when his breath fans your inner thighs as he removes a stocking. His touch is tender and tickles when he lifts your foot to release it from the silk. 

Dean repeats the action with your other leg, but this time, he kisses the inside of each knee before he grasps your ankles and pulls them up to rest on his shoulder as he stands. You know he won’t let any harm come to you, yet you frantically grip the comforter with a shriek as your ass reaches the edge of the mattress. When he releases his hold, you spread your legs, wrapping them around him as he leans into you. “Touch me.”

Sighing, you grip the nape of his neck in one hand, nails of the other gently scraping down his spine as he nibbles along your jawbone. Then he whispers …

“Now the real fun begins …the after-party.”

[do-you-have-a-flag]

just read that article from new york magazine, "Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College - ChatGPT has unraveled the entire academic project."

didn't reveal anything new to me about the use and functioning of the plagiarism-grown, glorified auto-predict, language models that were rolled out so irresponsibly it means now anyone can waste water instead of their own time and effort. but was still fascinating to read, in a bleak way.

it's so interesting because cheating and corner cutting will always exist in education, whether out of desperation or laziness, it will always be there. but by university it truly is wild how many people are not actually there to learn, because at that point if you have a program do all your work for you you are fully not there to learn so why waste your time and money playing pretend at a degree. a degree you aren't qualified for because you did not do enough.

we aren't in a post-capitalist universal basic income world where the idea of a few individuals lightly supervising automation is feasible. the technology is not there and the culture and economic stability is not there. so when a professor in the article reasons to students “you’re not actually anything different than a human assistant to an artificial-intelligence engine, and that makes you very easily replaceable. Why would anyone keep you around?” that is not hypothetical. and in terms of the degrees just because the on paper grade says you passed doesn't mean you passed it means you curated automated responses that pass with no actual guarantee of comprehension or retention of information on your part.

and there are tools and templates and minor automations that can be used to supplement your own efforts! they take longer but not that significantly, and more importantly they are less likely to impede the actual practice of learning to implementation.

that's what a lot of people who cheat or use these tools in this way seem to miss.

let me pull out three paraphrased statements of possible justifications from this article:

The education system is flawed

These exercises are irrelevant

I'm bad at organisation

these are all experientially true to my experience of education at various points. and the first point exacerbates issues with 2 and 3 to where students can feel overwhelmed or underprepared or frustrated for various reasons. however where i differ personally from the choice making of these students, is that while i never had access to such a powerful tool i still never chose to cheat or cut corners with things like chapter summaries instead of reading a book, or getting someone else to write for me, or any other obvious forms of cheating/plagiarism.

and the reason for this is not lack of frustration or feelings of antagonism towards the system or confusion over content or lack of organisation skills (all issues i had). it's that throughout my education, i am talking back to primary school, i always tried to figure out WHY we were doing the work assigned to us. what in our studies is it trying to get us to engage with, what methods does it force us to put into use to communicate that knowledge, and how much of the information have we comprehended and retained. some assignments are bad at the execution of these goals but if you can see what the goals are you can still benefit from attempting to achieve them while meeting the requirements enough to pass. IMPORTANTLY the process of doing this frustrating and often inefficient process helps not just critical thinking skills but also is how you actually learn things.

no one else can know stuff for you. it makes sense to outsource a basic sum to a calculator app on your phone, but this means you are not a mathematician. if you use a chapter by chapter summary to write a book report you have not read that book. if you read the wikipedia article for a movie you have not watched that movie. all of these are more verifiable sources of information than language models.

if you get a transcript of a lecture you did not attend and use a chatbot to make notes for you then you did not attend that class- if you read the transcript and take notes and then use the chatbot and compare the difference at least then you used your capacity for thought to process the information and assess it through comparison.... but it would be better to find a classmate and compare notes with a peer so you both have the opportunity to not only check how well you understood the lecture/refresh the information covered, but also a much lower stakes chance to try out communication skills than the group assignments and oral presentations often assigned for this purpose. and on top of that you get to socialise and network with someone in your field of study in a way that benefits both of you.

i'm not even against the use of machine learning models generally, i think they are useful in a repetitive task automation and data scanning context. but why are we delegating things like Knowing Stuff and Human Connection to the 1 and 0 machine that might as easily sell our info as have it leaked to hackers. what kind of cyberpunk surveillance dystopia are we shrugging lazily into? you do not have to pay all that money to pretend to be a competent professional. and if that sounds harsh it's because it is. there are enough scammers and barely qualified people succeeding in this world.

you do not have to dedicate your life to labours that you are not capable of, at the very least be honest with yourself of your own capacity for thought and action. genuinely try to figure out if you are using this technology because of a 'can't' or a 'won't'

it's not a tool if it knows more than you- it's a tool if you could do the job without it.

[sunmaylight]

Ramble about Reverse 1999 (not a promo but just fan gushing)

If you haven’t already, even though it’s been around for over one and a half years now. Try Reverse 1999. It’s a gacha game made by Bluepouch where there is a female MC with character, diverse cast of playable characters and NPCs. A large chunk of the characters looks hot and can make you feel gay or bi.

(EDIT: I forgot my boi!) Did you know that Reverse 1999 also has non-human characters? The magical Science/Sci-Fi magic/magic in this world has the power to make the most random thing a playable character. Exhibit A is an Apple. Then there is my favorite one of this group that is “A Knight”. A Knight is a cape, suit of armor’s lower arm guards and gloves, plus his sword. No body, but enough of an imposing figure that one can guess where the human body outline would be. Also A Knight is a heavy hitter plus one of my top two reasons for downloading the game in the first place.

The story is haunting, mysterious, and interactive. Like in between story sections, one of the interactive experiences is to interact with a gruff old man voice that should be in a noir film. That old guy is like haunting the narrative through the MC’s inner thoughts that makes me wonder if the old guy’s main objective in doing that is to entice the MC to switch sides, give a different perspective/more insight to the story, or just mess with the MC

Did I mention that the character’s have different ethnic background and that their voice acting includes those different languages sometimes if you play it in English? Like one of the characters is a French teenage girl who slips into French sometimes when excited. Or that the new event has several parts where the cast slips into Chinese sometimes.

The level of detail and creation to this is amazing. I’m only beginning the fourth book/fourth chapter(?) of this and the expansion of the world of Reverse 1999 is slowly growing as the MC is traveling. (Look, I’ve basically had this game since launch but not a lot of time and my motivation to tackle video games/mobile games are always on a rotating shuffle with IRL that I have to pick and choose)

Oh! Speaking of the story, not all Event stories follow the MC and that characters from previous stories/books/chapters actually stick around or have background stories that we get glimpse of that connect to the main story with the MC.

Then let me talk about the gameplay. Auto battles, an easy game mechanic once you get used to it that reminds me of FGO, and multiple ways to power up the characters. Plus a place to just let them relax that you can expand upon. Then when events rolls around, there are so many different mini games/challenges that this game has with each event. Like, one event has puzzles and the next event is an interactive map exploration. So much fun

Listen, try Reverse 1999 if you want something new and a story with a mystery in it. Plus there is an event with a limited time character that ends in over a week before the new update patch drops a new story chapter with events that will give new character, costumes, and challenges. Excited for that

Also there are like no 3-D models. Everything is 2-D art

[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1661

Warnings Strong language, but not much and a wee bit of flirting.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The dialling tone rang loudly in your ear for a few seconds as you wedged the office phone between your head and left shoulder. You typed up a couple of notes on the computer when the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it that Mr Kelce? It's Y/N from KC Auto repairs." You said, checking your notes.

A deep voice laughed, "Hey, yeah it's Travis. You can call me Travis."

"Oh, okay Travis. I had a look at your car and there is a problem with your combustion chamber. You see, vehicles need the right amount of air and fuel to mix and then-"

"Woah woah, you lost me at combustion." Travis said, "Just tell me, is the car a goner?"

You giggled, "No, you just need new spark plugs. It's around $250 including labour."

You could hear him sigh down the line, "Oh! That's fine then, do what you need to do."

"Okay, sure thing. I'll be finished with it by 4pm. Are you able to come and collect around then?"

There was a short silence, "I've got a crazy day. I got a couple of things to figure out first, I don't know if I'll be around."

You checked your schedule in the large leather bound diary in front of you, "Well, I'll be in the shop late working on some other cars, so if you drop by anytime before 7, I should still be here."

"Awesome, I'll stop by!"

"Great, catch you later." You placed the phone back onto the receiver and quickly jotted down in your diary details to remind yourself to replace Travis' spark plugs.

The office door opened and the noises of the shop floor grew increased for a second before they were muffled again as the door closed.

"Hey sport." You felt your Dad's hands on your shoulders, "Your headache gone yet?"

"Not really. I already got two cars to finish up, a service and now these new spark plugs for do for that GMC." You pointed your pen in the direction of Travis' car as you began to write out a worksheet.

Your Dad leant down across your shoulder, "I could do the GMC for you?"

"Dad no, Dr Martin said you had to take it easy." You covered the worksheet with your hand.

He swiped your hand away, "Oh come on, I'm fine! It's spark plugs."

You laughed until you noticed that his face had quickly changed when he caught sight of the sheet, "What's wrong?"

His once rosy cheeked complexion was now a ghostly shade of white, "Travis Kelce...you have Travis Kelce's car here?"

"Yeah, why?"

His eyes widened as he looked towards the shop floor, "His car is in my shop? The GMC, that's Travis Kelce's car?"

Your eyebrows lowered in confusion, "Yeah, he dropped it off this morning?"

"Oh man! Y/N, you gotta let me do it! The boys at the fishing lake aren't gonna believe this!"

"What is going on? Who is this guy?" Your voice was beginning to heighten in pitch.

Your Dad lifted his sweatshirt up to reveal a bright red jersey with the number 87 emblazoned on the front, "Travis Kelce is one of the greatest tight ends the Chiefs have ever seen!"

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your diary for the day.

"Which you would know if you ever watched football with me!" He poked you in the arm with his finger.

You tore off the worksheet from the pad, "If I give you this, will you stop shouting and making my headache worse?"

You Dad carefully took the paper from your hands and gently kissed the top of your head before dancing his way out of the office and onto the shop floor, Travis' GMC waiting in the corner of the garage.

______________________________________________________________

Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, you noted that it was 6.25pm. All of your colleagues had already left for the day, leaving you in the shop by yourself. You preferred working alone but your Dad's business had built up a good reputation in the city for being the best repair shop and it was always busy.

When you were younger, you had always preferred fixing your Barbie's houses to make them better as apposed to playing with the dolls themselves. As a teenager you could always be found in the workshop tinkering with tools and learning everything you could from your Dad. You started helping him in his shop during the summer and when you left school, he took you on and gave you a job. You saved every penny you could and when your Dad needed to take a step back from work, you bought into the business, running it alongside him.

You gazed up at the underside of the Ford that was lifted above you, squinting as the night drew in. The crackled radio played in the background and as you hummed along to yourself, the faint sound of footsteps seemed to blend into the music.

"Um...hello?"

You turned your head towards the direction of the deep voice, a silhouette standing in the doorway of the shop.

You squinted further, trying to make out any defining features but to no avail. "Karl, if this is you trying to scare the shit out of me, you gotta try harder than that." You shook your head and dropped your wrench down onto the floor, the sound of the metal hitting the cement loudly echoing in the vast room.

The figure stepped further forwards, his hands held up, "I'm sorry...it's Travis. I'm just here to pick up my car?"

You felt your cheeks flush red, "Travis? I am so sorry, that was really unprofessional of me."

"Hey, it's all good! Don't worry, I probably shouldn't have lingered in the doorway watching you."

Your mouth twisted to the side, "You were watching me?"

His eyes grew bigger, "Not in a creepy way. But now I've said that it wasn't in a creepy way, it sounds like it was in a creepy way."

You wiped your hands on your towel, smiling slightly as you listened to him struggle.

"I was just...impressed. Like I said earlier, I have no clue when it comes to shit like this." He looked around the room at the various tools and parts that were dotted around.

You slowly nodded your head, "Well, thanks...I guess?"

Travis scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet, a clear indication that he was nervous. You took the opportunity to really look at him. He was wearing bright white trainers, dark wash jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket with a white shirt underneath. He was so pristine and you were quite concerned that he wouldn't make it out of the shop without a smudge of oil on him.

"So, my car?"

You looked towards it, digging the keys from one of your many pockets, a couple of bolts coming out with them, "Uh yeah, my Dad took great pride in fixing your car. He's a big fan."

"Oh yeah? Well please, tell your Dad I said thanks!" He smiled before looking around again, "You on your own?"

You sighed, "Yeah, I got a few things to clear up on these babies and then I'll be done."

He unlocked his car and opened the door, pausing for a second before he turned back to you, "Wanna go for a drink?"

Your heart stopped for a beat or two and your chest tightened, a feeling you weren't used to. Men didn't usually ask you out, especially not at work. You didn't exactly make an effort to only be covered in grease all day and everyone knew that your Dad wouldn't be far away, meaning most potential dates kept you very much at an arms length. But here he was, an exception.

"I've still got some work to do." You looked down at your current appearance, "And I might not be down with the latest trends, but I'm pretty sure no one will let me in anywhere looking like this."

Travis smiled coyly, "So, is that a no?"

You winced at his hidden hurt, guessing he wasn't used to women turning him down, "Thanks...but no." Digging into your pocket, you retrieved his invoice, black fingerprints smudged across the paper.

As he reached to take the invoice, his large hand covered yours and you subconsciously held your breath, a fast heat rising to your face.

"No sweat, I might see you around anyway?" He jumped into his car, turning the engine on, "I'll wire you the money for the spark...things."

You nodded in acknowledgement, watching as he pulled away carefully out of the garage and into the night. You unclenched your shoulders and laughed to yourself, turning your attention back to the Ford.

______________________________________________________________

"A package? Who from?" You questioned.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. I didn't open it."

"We never get packages."

You became slightly distracted as Jordan tugged at the bottom hem of his hoodie and pulled it up and over his head, his shirt lifting up slightly to reveal a peek at his toned abs. He threw the garment onto the floor beside him and gazed at you.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, "Uh...I'll go and have a look now."

You furrowed your brows, making your way towards the office and shaking your head on the way, exacerbated at yourself.

On the desk was a small brown package with no indication of who it was from. You ripped open the paper and carefully pulled out the framed photograph. It was a picture of Travis midgame, the ball safely clutched in his gloved hands and speeding towards the end zone. He had signed the corner of the photograph. You turned the frame over to see some slightly messy handwriting on the back.

"For your Dad."

You smiled at his kind gesture.

"Let me know when you want to go for that drink."

______________________________________________________________

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[real-british-empire]

How to completely fuck over your friends and turn a 5 wound model made mostly for buffing into a fucking powerhouse for your 9th edition crusade.

Step 1: grab an archon with an agoniser and blast pistol (agoniser may be unusual but you’ll see later)

Step 2: Upgrade them to a master archon for splintered genius (it’s ok), a soulhelm for defence and damage reduction

Step 3: pick up the warlord trait soul thirst for a little damage boost and health regen

Step 4: pick flayed skull Kabal for the extra attacks

Step 5: Replace the agoniser with the much better Triptych whip

Step 6: onto the crusade rules, grab proficient predator and lord of toxins battle traits for more damage and a re-roll

Step 7: boost the archon with the soul trap requisition for the attacks and toughness

Step 8: use more requisitions for combat drugs, this time giving the archon either painbringer for a toughness buff or adrenalight for more attacks on charge

Step 9: I have no clue if weapon enhancements can go on relics but if they can, with the triptych whip give it agonite for un-ignorable damage.

Step 10: get the insensate battle scar for half damage (the loss of power from pain is not that bad)

Step 11: pick up the master clone field for an invuln save plus bonus attacks and the mask of the first age because fuck your opponents moral tests

Step 12: pick up a court of the archon because that’s even funnier (sslyth and lhamean are the minimum for the buffs)

Step 13: pick up a croons because those guys can give even more healing

To summarise, your archon will have 6 wounds, -1 to hit, basically a 5+ feel-no-pain, healing from kills (minor bust still healing), 6’s on wounds dealing mortals and 1 re-roll on a hit wound damage or save, unignorable melee damage, halved damage, 4+ invuln after the 2+ fails and 2 attacks on all enemies that attack you, 9 inch movement, choosing moral test results within 6 inches, cannot be hit with ranged attacks, auto-wounds on 6s when hitting, healing (if the cronos can actually kill something), 13 attacks at damage 2 and ap3 on a charge with toughness 4 (5 with combat drugs but only 12 attacks with the toughness boost) and finally 11 leadership.

[sevasey51]

What would Connors office look like? Would he also keep a med kit in his office for her? What would be in it?

The Space He Keeps for Her

I’d imagine his office would look something like this maybe with the couch big enough so she can lay down but also so he can support her

Summary: Connor’s office isn’t just a workspace—it’s a reflection of who he is: meticulous, brilliant, and quietly, fiercely devoted to the woman he loves. Between patient consults, trauma rounds, and the constant rhythm of Med, it’s the one place that belongs entirely to him. And in the bottom drawer, tucked away but never forgotten, is a compact med kit—built just for her. Because even when she’s floors away or having a good day, he’s always prepared. Always watching. Always ready.

It was mid-afternoon when Ava poked her head into Connor’s office and smirked.

“Why is your office nicer than half the boardrooms in this place?”

Connor didn’t look up from the scans he was reviewing. “Because I’m here more than I’m home.”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing else—just stepped out again.

And once the door clicked shut, everything was quiet again.

His office wasn’t showy. Just intentional.

One framed photo—just one—sat on the windowsill: Y/N laughing, hair windblown, Charlie mid-bark beside her. It had been taken at the lake on one of their rare weekends off. She’d told him not to take the picture, and he’d done it anyway.

There was a narrow bookshelf by the wall. A single dog biscuit tucked behind a paperweight. A few trauma journals, a coffee mug from Jay that said Trauma King, and tucked behind the anatomical heart model—

A small med bag.

Connor opened the bottom drawer and pulled it out now, checking it by feel as he read through vitals Y/N had logged that morning. She was okay. Just tired. But still—he always made sure this was stocked.

It wasn’t much. Just enough.

Connor’s Office Med Kit:

• IV fluid bag & port-friendly tubing

• Zofran (injectable and dissolvable tabs)

• Toradol preloaded syringe

• Sumatriptan auto-injector (because migraines don’t care what floor you’re on)

• TXA vial

• Electrolyte mix packets

• A spare port access needle (because you just never know)

• Warming pack for vasodilation

• Nitrile gloves, alcohol wipes, sterile dressings

• Portable vitals monitor

• Her favorite stim tool (lavender-colored, with a fidget roller)

• A mini bottle of ginger tea concentrate and a foldable straw

• Noise-canceling earplugs & a silk eye mask (for when it’s not a crash, just too much)

He restocked what he needed without a second thought.

Because if she ever needed him and couldn’t get to the maternity lounge, or if she texted a quiet “Not good today” and couldn’t leave her floor—he’d have everything ready within minutes.

Sometimes Ava teased him. Sometimes Will just gave him that knowing look.

But he didn’t care.

Because this drawer, this kit—it wasn’t about panic. It wasn’t about preparing for the worst.

It was love.

Quiet, steady, surgeon’s-hands kind of love.

And in the chaos of Med, this space—his space—always had room for her.

[tayla-babygirl-000]

I used to be this nerdy lil automotive feminist engineer—y’know, all brains and badassery, designing brain-to-car software links that’d blow your mind. Picture me: glasses perched, clipboard in hand, giving a product tour at this big auto convention. I’m doing the demo—neural sync ratios on the connected choker necklace—feeling so respected, my voice all crisp and confident. But then… oopsie, something went way off-script.

It started with this weird tingle during the demo—my chest felt hot, tight, like my bra was shrinking. I ignored it, duh, ‘cause I’m a pro, but mid-sentence—pop!—my blouse buttons pinged off, flying into the crowd. Gasps, then stares. My tits—my cute lil B-cups—were swelling, fast. Like, cartoon-level fast. Fabric ripped, and suddenly I’m rocking these massive udders, huge, wobbly juggs spilling out, thick nipples poking through what’s left of my top. I’m frozen, mouth open, brain fritzing—how’d my knockers get so big?! Convention attendees—greasy gearheads, suits, random hairy dudes—went feral. “Holy shit, look at dem tiggums!” one yells, and that’s it—I come so hard I pass out.

Next thing I know, I’m topless—no fully naked!—on the show floor, a brainless fuckdoll model instead of an engineer. My tits are the star now, these giant, heaving milkers bouncing with every step, nipples hard and long as lug nuts, aching from the air alone. Hands—so many grubby hands—start grabbing. Rough palms squeeze my udders, fingers tweak my nipples, some perv even slaps ‘em, watching ‘em jiggle like Jell-O. I’m moaning—loud, sloppy, involuntarily coming between my squeezed legs—each grope sending jolts straight to my cunt. “Stop, I’m not—” I try, but it’s just drooly gibberish now, my smarts leaking out with every fondle.

Customers crowd in, molesting me like I’m the exhibit. One guy—big, sweaty, smells like motor oil—cups my jugs, lifts ‘em, mutters, “Fuck, these are heavy—gonna milk ‘em later?” My knees buckle, a wet gush squirts out of me—an orgasm, right there, shaking me stupid. Another dude pinches my nipples, rolling ‘em slow, smirking, “Bet you love this, huh, dummy?”—and I do, oh god, I do, cumming again, tits throbbing, brain blanking. Suggestions pour in—“Bounce ‘em for us!” “Let me suck ‘em!”—and I obey, giggling, jiggling, a horny puppet with showroom knockers too big to fight.

I’m not the engineer anymore—just a topless sales floor slut, my mammaries mauled, my dignity gone, dripping from the abuse. Each squeeze, each slap, each filthy word rewires me—mind-to-car software? Nah, it’s tits-to-cunt spasms now, and I’m cumming so hard I can’t even cry about it. Someone yells, “Best product here!” and the crowd roars, hands diving back in to slap my boobs together lewdly. I’m completely lost.

[weirdtvland]

do you have any more stories about donyale luna? she so interesting i really wanna know more about her.

There's still not a lot of personal info on Donyale. There's mostly professional information on Donyale. I've read things from Supermodel Beverly Johnson like she used to walk barefooted on the runways like the hippies do, which Beverly said is why she could never achieve actual success with her modeling:

" {Donyale} doesn't wear shoes winter or summer. Ask her where she's from - Mars? She went up and down the runways on her hands and knees. She didn't show up for bookings. She didn't have a hard time, she made it hard for herself."

I still don't get why Beverly was in her documentary, but so be it.

She had several industry friends, such as The Rolling Stones, which she began dating Brian Jones, Miles Davis, Jimi Hendrix, Veruschka, Pat Cleveland & etc. She even fell in the Andy Warhol crowd.

Pat Cleveland: "She had no tits, but lots of presence. We'd walk down the streets and men's mouths would drop in awe. When we walked into restaurants people would stop eating and stand up and applaud. She was like a mirage or some kind of fantasy."

She even met Jackie Kennedy in New York in 1966 at a nightclub. And she was quoted saying Donyale was very beautiful.

Although Beverly might have thought Donyale was being unprofessional, the modeling world loved her creativity with her catwalks. She developed crazy runway walks like moving like a robot and crawling on all fours like a stalking animal. On a personal front, it's been said that Donyale was married while living in New York in 1966. She was married for 10 months before she filed for divorce. She had several boyfriends/fiancées but she would never confirm or deny anything.

In her childhood, her sister realized she was a bit odd and weird. She always lived in a fantasy world. She always believed she was from Mars or the moon. In my opinion, I think it was a getaway from all of the abuse her mother was facing with her father. She began lying about her background to several people, including her first boyfriend, who already knew who she was and where she was from.

When Sanders Bryant {a friend and beau} met the unfolding diva at the age of 15, "she was already radiant and gorgeous." They were in the Cass Tech high school cafeteria, and our girl was working on a film script. She introduced herself as Donyale Luna, recently arrived from Hawaii. Her parents had been killed in an auto accident and she was adopted. "She continued that story as long as I knew her," says Bryant, even after I knew her mother and father and that she was born in Ford Hospital right here in Detroit."

Speaking of film script, Donyale developed a thesbian side when she decided to act in plays. She took roles such as Cherry in Paint Your Wagon, Ariel in The Tempest, Chastity in Anything Goes and Jean in Stage Door. After rehearsals, inspired by the beatniks, she visited coffeehouses near the Wayne State University campus with her boyfriend, dressed in head to toe black. On weekends, she often crossed the bridge to neighboring Windsor, Ontario, or traveled to other nearby parts of Canada. She became known to Roland Sharette, the managing director of the Detroit Civic Center Theatre, as a "kook" because she had a habit of walking around barefoot "even down the street.” During the 1963 run of Paint Your Wagon she fed popcorn to pigeons when they rehearsed outdoors.

Donyale often mentioned in interviews that she wasn't considered beautiful and a weirdo. Although they mentioned she was indeed a weirdo, they never said she wasn't beautiful.

Contrasting her time in Detroit with her time in Europe modeling, she later noted: "Back in Detroit, I wasn't considered beautiful or anything."A fellow student at Cass Technical, Verna Green, noted,"She was such a striking image, I couldn't forget her. . . . She looked like an oddball to the run-of-the-mill student. Not enough people had told her how strikingly beautiful she was."She was not a "fashion-conscious' student; her attire mostly consisted of "simple black skirts and long loose sleeved tops.” She stated that in her time in Cass Technical, she "wasn't accepted because I talked funny, I looked funny, and I was a weirdo to everyone. I grew up realizing I was strange."

[britt-kageryuu]

Leo is just yapping while playing through an event in Dreamlight Valley, he needed to waste some time while some plants he needed to harvest grew.

He had dressed both him model and his in game character in Pride themed clothing items.

Leo was running around with Sally to get her friendship level up. He had set her favorite activity to foraging which while fitting seemed like the slowest way to gain 'friend points'. Or whatever the stars were called.

"So while we were hanging out at our family fav restaurant, we meet this group visiting from SoCal, and we got to talking about old movies, and like known filming locations they might know of." Leo pauses for dramatic effect, "And one of them starts talking about this High School that was famously known as a big filming location for 'Grease' mostly the school scenes and exterior school shots."

"Except for that end scene, that was someplace else 'obviously'." He does the quote fingers gesture.

"But they put down their phone to show an overhead map view of the school, and start talking about the song 'Tell Me More', and they zoom in on this one spot next to the football field, and to quote:"

"'Okay this is the cafeteria area where the girls were singing and dancing their part, and unless I'm mistaken the guys were on the bleachers here,' all while drawing lines and Xs on the map very close to each other, 'If they literally looked in this direction they would clearly see eachothers groups, because they were literally within like 50 feet of eachother!'"

"This is apparently a pretty common bit of humor from those who watch the movie and know the location. It's similar to those scenes where your yelling 'The person you're looking for is Right There' at the screen." Leo crows with laughter his last comment.

Leo suddenly noticed that his crops have grown across the area, and runs over to harvest them. Having to pause to grab a burst, or rapid click on a golden crop.

Then opens the event tabs to turn in the event Duties, and grab the the another piece of the Mad Hatter outfit, and one of the customization motifs.

"Well, I now have to wait for the time to roll over so that I can do these 'Give X character their favorite items' duties." Leo lets out a sigh of mixed annoyance and kinda relief. He quickly checked the last auto-save and back out of the game and close it.

"Okay, let's do a quick poll so you guys can choose which game we switch over too." Leo explains while switching the scene to his model lounging on an inflatable couch on a beach.

"Meanwhile, want me to tell you about when we discovered one of our Dads old filming locations we found while passing through some towns going to a Con?"

The chat was spamming emotes, and shouting Yes. If only to get some possible stories about the brothers acting like dorks.

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

Masterpost

This was stuck in my mind for a few days, because for whatever reason the opening song for Grease is part of my works playlist right now, and I still remember this particular fun fact.

[mariacallous]

One phrase encapsulates the methodology of nonfiction master Robert Caro: Turn Every Page. The phrase is so associated with Caro that it’s the name of the recent documentary about him and of an exhibit of his archives at the New York Historical Society. To Caro it is imperative to put eyes on every line of every document relating to his subject, no matter how mind-numbing or inconvenient. He has learned that something that seems trivial can unlock a whole new understanding of an event, provide a path to an unknown source, or unravel a mystery of who was responsible for a crisis or an accomplishment. Over his career he has pored over literally millions of pages of documents: reports, transcripts, articles, legal briefs, letters (45 million in the LBJ Presidential Library alone!). Some seemed deadly dull, repetitive, or irrelevant. No matter—he’d plow through, paying full attention. Caro’s relentless page-turning has made his work iconic.

In the age of AI, however, there’s a new motto: There’s no need to turn pages at all! Not even the transcripts of your interviews. Oh, and you don’t have to pay attention at meetings, or even attend them. Nor do you need to read your mail or your colleagues’ memos. Just feed the raw material into a large language model and in an instant you’ll have a summary to scan. With OpenAI’s ChatGPT, Google’s Gemini, and Anthropic’s Claude as our wingmen, summary reading is what now qualifies as preparedness.

LLMs love to summarize, or at least that’s what their creators set them about doing. Google now “auto-summarizes” your documents so you can “quickly parse the information that matters and prioritize where to focus.” AI will even summarize unread conversations in Google Chat! With Microsoft Copilot, if you so much as hover your cursor over an Excel spreadsheet, PDF, Word doc, or PowerPoint presentation, you’ll get it boiled down. That’s right—even the condensed bullet points of a slide deck can be cut down to the … more essential stuff? Meta also now summarizes the comments on popular posts. Zoom summarizes meetings and churns out a cheat sheet in real time. Transcription services like Otter now put summaries front and center, and the transcription itself in another tab.

Why the orgy of summarizing? At a time when we’re only beginning to figure out how to get value from LLMs, summaries are one of the most straightforward and immediately useful features available. Of course, they can contain errors or miss important points. Noted. The more serious risk is that relying too much on summaries will make us dumber.

Summaries, after all, are sketchy maps and not the territory itself. I’m reminded of the Woody Allen joke where he zipped through War and Peace in 20 minutes and concluded, “It’s about Russia.” I’m not saying that AI summaries are that vague. In fact, the reason they’re dangerous is that they’re good enough. They allow you to fake it, to proceed with some understanding of the subject. Just not a deep one.

As an example, let’s take AI-generated summaries of voice recordings, like what Otter does. As a journalist, I know that you lose something when you don’t do your own transcriptions. It’s incredibly time-consuming. But in the process you really know what your subject is saying, and not saying. You almost always find something you missed. A very close reading of a transcript might allow you to recover some of that. Having everything summarized, though, tempts you to look at only the passages of immediate interest—at the expense of unearthing treasures buried in the text.

Successful leaders have known all along the danger of such shortcuts. That’s why Jeff Bezos, when he was CEO of Amazon, banned PowerPoint from his meetings. He famously demanded that his underlings produce a meticulous memo that came to be known as a “6-pager.” Writing the 6-pager forced managers to think hard about what they were proposing, with every word critical to executing, or dooming, their pitch. The first part of a Bezos meeting is conducted in silence as everyone turns all 6 pages of the document. No summarizing allowed!

To be fair, I can entertain a counterargument to my discomfort with summaries. With no effort whatsoever, an LLM does read every page. So if you want to go beyond the summary, and you give it the proper prompts, an LLM can quickly locate the most obscure facts. Maybe one day these models will be sufficiently skilled to actually identify and surface those gems, customized to what you’re looking for. If that happens, though, we’d be even more reliant on them, and our own abilities might atrophy.

Long-term, summary mania might lead to an erosion of writing itself. If you know that no one will be reading the actual text of your emails, your documents, or your reports, why bother to take the time to dig up details that make compelling reading, or craft the prose to show your wit? You may as well outsource your writing to AI, which doesn’t mind at all if you ask it to churn out 100-page reports. No one will complain, because they’ll be using their own AI to condense the report to a bunch of bullet points. If all that happens, the collective work product of a civilization will have the quality of a third-generation Xerox.

As for Robert Caro, he’s years past his deadline on the fifth volume of his epic LBJ saga. If LLMs had been around when he began telling the president’s story almost 50 years ago—and he had actually used them and not turned so many pages—the whole cycle probably would have been long completed. But not nearly as great.

[weixuldo]

Unconditionally Epilogue (pt 2)

Anakin X Reader

a/n: This is the complete end to unconditionally, i’ve been putting off finishing part two but i really just got into it these past few days (nostalgia is a weird thing haha) but i hope you enjoy and i want to thank you all again- i wouldn’t have ever continued to write if you guys hadn’t supported me in the first place- so thank you so much :)

10 years later...

It’s a busy week at the Skywalker household: the twins are turning 18 and you and Anakin are celebrating your 10th anniversary

Warnings: cursing, kids, nudity, no sex but implied, mention of injury and car accidents.

___________________

“Maker!! This is for me?” Leia exclaimed happily when the two of you handed her the smooth car fob. 

“It's all yours princess” Anakin smiled as he went in to hug her. 

“We wanted to send you off to college with a more reliable car; we also got you a bunch of accessories and stickers for the inside, they’re in the living room. I think you’ll really like them” you added. 

She hugged you next, “Thank you so much!”.

“Thank you daddy”  she said, walking towards the sleek auto infront of her.

“Yea. thanks ‘daddy’,” Han teased before going off to join his ecstatic girlfriend.

Anakin’s smile turned to an annoyed scowl; that smug son of a bitch was gonna get it some day, but as of now Anakin refrained from violence.

“I don't know about that Solo kid, he might end up six feet under with me holding the shovel someday” Anakin half joked, half actually meant. 

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes playfully, “as if you weren't a cocky son of a bitch when we first met”

He gave you a smug look with his brow raised.

“You know it's true, “Mr. Skywalker’” you smirked at the formal title you hadn't used in years. 

He huffed out a laugh and pulled you into his side, returning the smile. 

By the car, Leia raved to her boyfriend about the interior and he happily listened with a huge grin (he knew he’d be driving them on dates in it in the near future). 

Luke popped out of the garage with a smile and his safety goggles crookedly laid in his fluffy hair.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, “mom and dad have had me keeping your present in the garage for two weeks now! About time you got it”.

Leia turned to her brother, “you knew?!”.

“Of course I did, I helped pick it out- I got you the newest model with the best safety features. Cant have my sister going to college in a hunk-a-junk” he joked. 

A wide smile plastered itself on Leia's face as she rushed to embrace her brother. 

“I’m so glad you like it honey” you said, hugging her once more.

“And now that your brother finally stepped out of his cave, we can give you your gift,” Anakin said, turning to his son.

All of you walked back into the house and Anakin pulled out a plain white envelope.

“So, I know your sister’s gift is actually useful right now, but I’m sure you'll be very pleased with yours”, Anakin said as he handed the slip to his son.

Luke was confused but happily opened the envelope. You watched his blue eyes scan over the words and once it all clicked, he leapt up from the bar stool he was on. 

“No way! No fucking way!” he exclaimed, making Han and his sister laugh. 

Anakin shook his head with a smile. 

“What is it?” Leia asked, but before you could answer her, Luke practically tackled you in a giant hug. 

You smiled and embraced him warmly before he left to do the same to Anakin (a little gentler). 

“Thank you thank you!!” he said, clenching the paper. 

“Luke, what is it?” Leia asked again.

“They got me that old camaro that's been sitting in watto’s scrap yard. I’ve been wanting to fix that old thing up for years!” he grinned like a kid who just got told they were going to disney world. 

“There's more at the bottom,” you said with a smile. 

Luke shouted again, “NO WAY!”.

“What now?” Leia said, playfully rolling her eyes at her easily excitable brother. 

“Mom and dad got me a pass for next year’s car show- I’ll fix up the camaro and enter it!”. 

“That’s amazing Luke! You’ve wanted to be in one for forever!” 

He smiled and thanked the two of you once more. 

After the excitement of the gifts both of the twins went their separate ways to see their new presents; Leia went to test her car and Han helped Luke bring the other car over to the house. 

_________________________________________

“Be good for your sister and brother, alright baby?” you said as you hugged Rey close.

You and Anakin’s anniversary was tomorrow so you were leaving for the islands today. Anakin rolled the rest of the luggage into the back of his car before coming back to say goodbyes.

“I will mommy” Rey smiled proudly.

“That’s my girl” Anakin said, walking in from the garage.

“Daddy!” Rey exclaimed, reaching her arms up for Anakin.

He bent down to hug her tight and kissed her head, “Hey Pumpkin, we’ll be back in a week, alright?”.

Rey nodded her head before asking her brother to pick her up. He obliged as you, Anakin and Leia gave your parting hugs.

Next, Luke handed Rey over to Leia so he could hug you two goodbye.

“Have fun kids, we love you and will see you next tuesday” you smiled and waved as you headed for the car.

“make good choices- if I come home to a-“

“don’t worry daddy, i’ll keep these two idiots in line” Leia laughed as she pointed behind her at Han and Luke.

“ok- call if you need anything- love you!”

“of course! Miss you already” the twins smiled before going back into the house.

Once you and Anakin were buckled in, you squeezed his bicep with a wide grin.

“Someone’s excited” he laughed before kissing your forehead.

“You have no idea”

______________________

You arrived at your villa and flopped onto the large bed as Anakin put some of your luggage by the dresser on the other side of the room.

It was one that overlooked a private cove and came with pretty much every special amenity you could ask for (full working juice bar, hot tub, complimentary spa, embroidered towels, personalized rooms, you name it!).

“My love, come here” you called, patting the space beside you.

The smile lines in the corners of his beautiful eyes crinkled as the corners of his mouth turned upward, “alright angel”. 

He joined you and kissed you on the temple before asking what you wanted to show him. 

You dug around in your bag and pulled out a photo album you had made for your anniversary. 

“Happy anniversary, Ani,” you smiled. 

He looked at the square book and his eyes softened, “Is this for me?”.

You giggled, “who else would it be for silly?”. 

Your heart skipped when his mechanical hands brushed over yours as he took the book from you; even after ten years he still made you feel like a giddy teen. 

“Holy shit” he exclaimed as he opened the book, “Where’d you dig this one up from?”.

The first photo was a candid photo from your wedding; you were sitting in Anakin’s lap with your arms around his neck as he looked at you adoringly. 

“Rex actually took that one, he showed it to me when I went over there to pick Rey up from her playdate”.

“Maker, we look young- Well, you still look like this… I just look old” he joked. 

You kissed his temple, “no you don’t! You’re just well loved” you smiled. 

“That’s what you’d say to someone who looks old!” he exaggerated. 

You set the book up chronologically so that things from your college days when you first started working for him were at the beginning.

On the next page was a copy of the first check you ever got from him (obviously it was illegal to copy checks- but you weren’t actually going to use it).

His signature was much smoother back when he actually could sign with his hands. 

He eyed the page filled with small mementos from your early days together with a smile, “I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff” he said as he ran his mechanical fingers over the valet ticket stub from your first date.

“What can I say, I’m sentimental” you smiled, kissing his cheek. 

As the pages continued he watched his younger self become more and more happy with each turn. You really did light up his life.

There were photos of you and the twins playing, candid photos of him, ones that you took with him after long nights of love making… Everything was right here. 

“Hah! Look at that” he exclaimed as he came across some hand turkeys and swans you had taught the kids to make the first thanksgiving you were with them. 

“I used to find those damn things everywhere!”. 

He squinted once he reached the next page, there was a gray text message bubble cut out at the top of the page.

I should be home a bit earlier today, maybe we can watch that movie you’ve been talking about. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The last text you sent me before you got into your accident” you said, squeezing his upper arm softly. 

The next page had a picture of his completely totaled car as well as the first few photos you had of him when he was in a coma. It wasn’t pretty, but it was a part of him- a part of your journey together.

“Fuck, I forgot just how bad the car looked…” he said as he scanned the photo. 

His black Audi’s front was completely crushed and it barely looked like a car with the amount of dents and scrapes it’s body had collected.

You still weren’t completely sure what happened that day for it to have been so fatal. And Anakin barely remembered anything from the accident up to a few weeks after. 

“Maker- and me!” he said, diverting his analytic gaze to the glossy photos of his broken body lying in the ICU.

You nodded as he continued turning- the next few pages were his recovery period in the hospital; his first picture awake, his first with Ben and Satine, first with Ahsoka, his first with you, and his first with the twins. 

Looking back at the pictures made you really see how far he’d come- there was a time when the doctors didn’t think he would make it. 

Soon the pictures’ settings began to shift out of the hospital and into the house; his first time back home and other pictures from that christmas (there weren't many photos from the period you and him went through a rough patch, only one or two that Ben had lying around).

The next picture of everyone was at your college graduation; all smiles. 

You remembered your graduation like it was yesterday; it was the tail end of your rough patch with Anakin and he was the last person you expected to see in the sea of people. Your massive smile in the photo showcased just how happy you were to see him again. 

“You looked so good in that dress, Angel '' he cooed, nuzzling into your neck to steal a quick bite. 

“haha - stop!” you giggled, lightly pushing him away. 

“You still have it?” he asked jokingly with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, “...yes”.

His smirk grew into a lopsided grin, “I think you should wear it for me when we get back”. 

“HAH! Ani, I don’t even know if it still fits me?!”

He set the book in his lap and squeezed his mechanical hands around your waist making you squeal. 

“Ani! That tickles!” 

“Yea, i’d say you’d still fit- well maybe not this” he smiled grabbing the fat of your ass. 

“Ani!” you scolded.

All he could do was laugh, “What princess? I never said I didn’t like it- You know I love your ass”.

You swatted his hands away with a laugh- “Stop it! Finish looking at the book” you giggled. 

He turned his attention back to the album. The next few pages were covered in your wedding photos; a close up on his face when he saw you walk down the aisle, your face when he stood after saying his vows and a nice still photo of your first dance. 

“This was the best night of my life,” Anakin said with a reminiscent smile. 

“Me too, Ani”. 

The next photos were of his return to work, your pregnancy announcement, Rey’s birth, the twins’ first school dance, and other family milestones. 

There was a section near the end full of pictures of the kids; “first day of school” pics, vacation pics, and other moments where they were just being themselves.  

Finally the last page was the most recent picture of the two of you; it was at a rooftop bar for a gala his company hosted, he was dressed in a nice suit and you wore an off-the-shoulder gown- the photo was a candid Ben had taken of the two of you kissing after Anakin made his speech. 

He closed the book lightly and placed it on the end table beside the bed before turning to you with glassy eyes. 

“Y/n Skywalker, I love you more than anything on this earth- you are absolutely perfect” he said pulling you into his lap (which you gladly obliged). 

“Thank you” he said into your hair as he hugged you close. 

You tossed your arms around his neck and held on tightly, “I love you too, Anakin ''.

__________________________________

 Anakin’s gift to you was much more extravagant than yours to him, but the whole time he kept apologizing for his not being able to compare to yours (and you knew he meant it). 

He took you to one of the nicest restaurants on the island and then took you to the aquarium for part of your present. You were always a big fan of conservation and the oceans, so he donated a large sum to have a portion of the local reef named after you.

“Ani, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” you grinned ear to ear as you ran your fingers over the golden plaque with your name on it. 

He shyly cast his gaze away from yours, “It really doesn’t compare to yours- you’ve just always been the better gift giver”. 

You shook your head and grabbed his hands, “no, no Ani! I absolutely love this- and they’ll make sure to watch over the reef right?”.

He nodded with a smile, “Yes, my love. This section is under protection and will now be being sustained and cleaned by certified locals so that it will continue to thrive”.

You hugged him, “Thank you, I love it”.

“Of course. Angel”

The two of you walked hand in hand through the dark aquarium (Anakin had it completely reserved for tonight for just the two of you). 

Walking through the tunnel of brightly colored fish never failed to mesmerize you; their fluid motions, the shapes and sizes, you loved it.

Anakin watched your expressions change adoringly; after all these years, after becoming a mother, after becoming an influential and respected figure you could always find wonder in the smallest things. 

He loved that about you.

You did what he never could, you showed him how to be happy and how to push through the toughest times. That's why he knew you were perfect for him. 

After a few stolen kisses under the watery biomes, Anakin had a driver take you back to the villa.

Anakin began a warm bath for you in the fancy whirlpool tub; he opened the sunhatch, tuned on soft lights, added flower petals and some sweet fragrance. 

Once he entered the bedroom again, you had gotten undressed and were only wearing one of the new silk robes he got you and a smile.

“Hey Ani” you said with a small wave.

Like a moth to a flame, he walked towards you. 

“Hello, my love” he said with his low voice as he placed his mechanical hands on your hips, drawing you closer. 

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed him gently, “I think you should join me in the bath”.

When you leaned back he cocked his head to the side with a smirk, “Oh, should I now?” 

He played with a strand of your hair that you must have missed when you twisted it up. You nodded and began to take his suit coat off.

He chuckled at your determination and allowed you to help him undress; his body hadn’t seemed to change too drastically but there were some definite differences. 

He was more muscular than he was the first years after the accident but still wasn’t at the shape he was when you met him.

He was still slim but he collected some extra fat around his love handles; his crows feet and smile lines were more prominent, but in a way they made him more endearing. 

His scars had mostly all faded but every once in a while would flare up. As for his limbs, they all healed pretty well and his prosthetics were regularly updated. 

He was still just Anakin though… your Ani. 

“I think you’re ready” you said after placing a tender kiss on his bicep. 

His robotic digits danced around the hem of your robe until he pulled the loosely tied bow around your waist; the robe cascaded softly around your feet, leaving you bare. 

Anakin’s eyes admired your body and he sucked in a breath. 

“And now you are too”.

He was not the only one who’s body changed; after having Rey, you gained some light weight and stretch marks, your breasts had grown larger and you seemed to have a bit more fat on your ass (not that Anakin minded at all). 

You too had collected some smile lines but you had no problem with them. If you ever felt bad about your body, Anakin swatted those thoughts away really quick.

He always made you feel like the only girl in the world.

With a loving smile you led him into the large bathroom and helped him sit on the side of the tub before disassembling him. He always preferred legs first because he liked to hold onto you as long as he could.

At this point in life there was no part of him you hadn’t seen and no part of you that he hadn’t seen- so he was much less shy about having you help him.

Once everything was off you helped him into the tub; he sighed at the warm water caressing his body, you couldn’t wait to join him. 

You stretched once more and entered the tub gracefully. Before long you were lying against Anakin’s chest with a content smile- this was the best anniversary yet. 

Out of habit you fidgeted with the gold chain around your neck- you and Anakin had amassed several important dates since you first got each other the pendants. 

Anakin’s had your, the kids, and his first wife’s birthdays on them as well as the date of his accident and your wedding. And yours had Anakin’s, and the kids birthdays as well as your graduation date/when he proposed and your wedding day.

After all these years, after all you had been through together- you couldn’t ask for a better lover.

Only the stars knew that the mousy college student you were and the cold mannered businessman Anakin was, would eventually make it work.

You couldn’t be more thankful- and as you sat happily in Anakin’s embrace, you told him what you always did, 

“I love you so much Anakin…unconditionally”

***

a/n: so now it’s completely finished 🥲 i’ll miss this story but im also glad to have it finished :) i hope the epilogue chapters were enjoyable for u guys!! i tried to tie in the original trilogy and sequels a bit :) now we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming haha

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