#and yeah some of it i can reverse engineer

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Oooh I'm so glad folks are engaging with this post because it's stuff I've been thinking about for a while!

I think it's clear that magic will continue to play a role in any further stories in the Arcane universe, now that it's been "woken up" in the course of the events of the show. Whether Hextech itself continues to exist...I'm not sure. I tend to think that the arcane was never going to successfully industrialized in the way the Hexgates work--forcing magic to do one ordered, repetitive task over and over and over again. Something like the anomaly was always going to occur, because the order of the Hexgates has to be balanced out with chaos generated somewhere else within the system. But there are lots of other ways of using magic in Runeterra so I could see the Hextech crystals and gemstones being used in other ways.

I would argue that it's not the case that Jayce and Viktor are the only people capable of understanding Hextech. They're certainly the experts, but Jinx is able to construct working Hextech devices with one gemstone and a notebook. When given some time to mess around, Ekko and AU Powder invent time travel. Yes, they have Heimerdinger's mentorship, but he seems not to know this is even possible in advance. So I think the Council keeping a lock on Hextech is not just about controlling Jayce and Viktor's labor power as scientists (although it is that) but also about preventing the proliferation of Hextech in ways they can't control. Because if anyone can build or use or reverse-engineer a Hextech device then that's a formidable source of power that the Council no longer has a monopoly on.

@kettleninth I am also gonna pull out some ideas from your first set of tags cause there's some really interesting stuff in there.

(1) The Kirammans having a monopoly on the hexcrystals/gemstones is a really interesting idea because I've had the idea for a while that at least part of their wealth comes from mining. (Vi being the daughter of miners and Caitlyn being the daughter of mine owners just seems very juicy and like it fits well thematically.) If this were true then it would make sense that they would have the means to both extract and refine the crystals, and that they either found them through their own companies' prospecting, or that Jayce convinced Cassandra it was academically useful for him to go along on a Kiramman prospecting expedition where he thought the crystals might be found.

I initially had a whole tangent about the Kiramman-funded ventilation system but I decided it really needs its own post. Tl;dr I see it as kind of in the same vein as, like, wealthy social reformers of the Industrial Revolution era who invested in public health measures because they'd had the revelation that maybe their entire workforce dying before thirty was not gonna be sustainable. There's a mix of noblesse oblige and self-interest at work. They have an interest in conditions in the fissures because that's where their workers live, and possibly because their own enterprises are contributing to the pollution.

(2) Houses being corporations makes a lot of sense too. This is basically how the ultra-rich operate now, creating trusts, investment vehicles, holding companies etc. to manage inherited family wealth (and avoid taxes). I have also thought that in a society that has inherited family wealth but also seems relatively chill about same-sex relationships, there must be some structure to formally and indisputably designate heirs who are not your biological children, and if bringing someone into your House is seen as more of a business relationship, that could fill that role.

(3) The idea that the Council has possibly carved out a legal exception just for the Hexgates because they benefit Piltover's ruling class, and that other forms of Hextech are not automatically legal...yeah that feels very on brand and interesting to explore.

who decides the future of hextech?

Hot take: I don't think Hextech functions like a scrappy tech startup at all. I know the Arcane writers have made this comparison themselves, but it doesn't really track with what we see in the show.

It's made pretty clear that Jayce and Viktor have at best limited control over what direction Hextech goes in. In a city that's hostile to and suspicious of magic, they need the continued goodwill of the Council, and the wealthy families who sit on the Council, for their work to continue to exist at all. And that shapes how Hextech develops.

For the first 6-10 years of its existence (however long you think the S1 timeskip is), Hextech consists of one (1) project: the Hexgates. A major piece of international transit infrastructure, utilizing a brand-new technology that no one knew was even possible a few years earlier, and requiring a massive financial outlay for construction years before seeing any profits. Frankly, taking that from the very first shaky proof of concept to a fully functioning piece of infrastructure in less than 10 years is astonishing. This isn't like inventing Facebook; this is equivalent to creating the internet itself.

An infrastructure project on the scale of the Hexgates could be entirely state-funded (and therefore state-controlled, answering to the Council). But from the dialogue and visual storytelling, I think it's reasonable to infer that Hextech functions more like a public-private partnership.

In the modern era, PPPs have come to be associated with privatization and neoliberal capitalism. But funding infrastructure development this way was common in the 19th century too, closer to the time period from which Arcane draws its steampunk-ish inspiration.

So who's picking up the tab? I think it's some combination of government funding from the Council and private funding from Mel Medarda and the Kirammans.

We see one other Kiramman-funded infrastructure project in the show: the Undercity ventilation system.

And, as we see in that case, what may seem like a purely benevolent investment for the good of the city as a whole comes with a very high potential for control. (And where do the Hexgate plans end up at the end of the show? In the Kiramman family vault, accessible only with the Kiramman key.)

The Kiramman family crest is all over Hextech at Progress Day. It's prominent on the stage when Jayce speaks, positioned as equal to his own House.

Cassandra Kiramman introduces Jayce's speech, and Jayce gets trotted around the Kiramman family tent like a show pony beforehand.

The Kiramman crest is also on the box containing the hexgems, which makes me suspect that the facility needed to process the gemstones is either owned or financed by the Kirammans.

Mel's influence is more subtle. There's no Medarda crest on anything associated with Hextech; once you learn a bit about Mel's relationship with her family, that is not surprising. But clearly Mel feels comfortable speaking to other investors on behalf of Hextech, without feeling the need to run it by Jayce or Viktor first.

I think this exchange implies that (1) getting additional, outside investors is something new that they haven't done to finance earlier rounds of Hextech development, and (2) Mel is planning ahead in case the Council doesn't like the direction Hextech is going next and they need to secure additional funding.

I wouldn't be surprised if Mel was the one who steered them toward shipping and long-distance trade as a marketable use for Hextech in the first place, something many of the councillors seem to have an economic stake in.

Throughout this whole scene with Jayce and Mel, the Hexgate model sitting on her desk is very prominent. It's the first thing we see in the scene; the color and lighting make it stand out; and it appears in the frame in multiple shots. It's the thing that's always there between them.

Mel and Cassandra Kiramman are also councilors, and along with Heimerdinger they are Hextech's main allies on the Council--3 out of 7. Jayce and Viktor really can't afford to piss off any of them...which gets complicated when they want opposite things.

At the time of Progress Day, Hextech is at a turning point.

This conversation implies that they have not had a lot of freedom to develop and build whatever they wanted in the years during the timeskip. It's an interesting reversal of the dynamic we saw from them in 1.02 and 1.03. This time Jayce is the one forging ahead, confident they can get what they want, while Viktor is the one pointing out obstacles. (This is also the first time we see Viktor's face post-timeskip and register how much sicker he's become, which...oof.)

Regardless of how much they talk about "bringing magic to the people," I think it's notable that both their little spiels focus on how these inventions would increase worker productivity. This is a presentation designed for people who are thinking about their bottom line. And they seem to expect that any new developments with Hextech will have to be given Council approval before they can proceed.

(I think all of this puts the Hexcore in a slightly different light, too. It's quite possibly the first Hextech device since Jayce's original prototype that they've built without thinking about the pitch meeting. It's not a single-purpose object with an immediate, obvious use. In the beginning, it seems to recapture some of that original sense of wonder and discovery. And Viktor built it. I can see how he would be protective of his creation even before things Got Weird with it.)

And then, of course, everything goes off the rails. The gemstone gets stolen; Jayce gets pulled onto the Council. And after that point, every new Hextech object that Jayce makes is a weapon.

Jayce and Viktor's arc can be read as a story about the hubris of scientists thinking they can control forces they don't understand and anticipate every possible consequence, or a story about their naivete in thinking they could keep their research somehow above politics in a world full of conflict. And it's not not about those things. But it can also be read as a story about how discovery, creativity, and people's natural altruistic impulses get constrained by capitalism, and how often innovation is only valued if it can be made to serve war or profit.

(As for who controls the future of Hextech after the end of the show? With Viktor, Jayce, Mel and Heimerdinger all gone from Piltover...Caitlyn, probably. A detail I would love to see someone use in a fic.)

[overelegantstranger]

"how to draft a raglan knitting" search results:

knit your first raglan!

a raglan has four even sets of increases every other row

raglans for beginners!

what even is a raglan, anyway?

sweater design for babies :-)

what i wish the search results looked like:

here's what the range of tolerance is for shoulder widths in standard raglans

this is how to widen the shoulder of a raglan - with maths!

here's how to calculate where the widest part of the shoulder is in raglans!

[inkyantace7]

The funniest shit ever is listening to Tally Hall AFTER listening to Chonny Jash (listening to songs I hadn't heard of before listening to CCCC). Cuz I can hear the Chonny lyrics in my head and know where they SHOULD be. And then you also get shit like my Dream post with the realization that most of it was HIM

[itz-pandora]

Got like 71% of my deltamath exam review done and hoping I'll just brute force the rest

[koshkamartell]

Kept Woman

summary: AU one shot. Your older boyfriend Joel knows what's best for you, even if you don't agree.

warnings: unspecified age gap, possessive!Joel, low key abusive!Joel, toxic behaviour, gaslighting, reader has poor self esteem, degradation, dubcon PIV, unprotected PIV, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, slut shaming, breeding kink, mild dissociation.

"You woke up with a fuckin' attitude today," Joel grumbles as he heaves himself into the driver's seat of his truck. He doesn't look your way as he slams the door shut and starts the ignition.

"You'd have an attitude too, if someone else kept you up half the night with their snoring," you snipe from the front passenger seat.

Joel's loud snoring has been a point of contention in your relationship for quite some time. He always snores, although it has never been as bad as it was last night. Most of the time you can subdue the snoring with a couple jabs of your elbow into his side, or a few light smacks on his shoulder, but last night nothing seemed to rouse him. The maddening snoring was unrelenting as it sawed through your eardrums, each inhale and exhale of Joel's breath bringing you closer to a fit of rage.

You ended up seeking refuge on the couch around midnight, angry at having to abandon your luxurious king bed for the far inferior comfortability of the living room sofa. As a result you are understandably irritable this morning.

You have noticed a pattern to Joel's noisy nocturnal breathing; it seems the nights of heavy, obnoxious snoring come after a long day at work, when he returns home extra tired and ready to collapse in bed. You know he's been putting in overtime at the latest project for his contracting company. You appreciate that he works hard. But if you have to deal with another round of cacophonous snorting then you will surely go crazy.

You see Joel scoff and rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision but choose to ignore it. He always thinks you're being dramatic or complaining about nothing. You flip the sun visor down to use the mirror before rifling through your handbag for your lipstick.

"For fuck sake," Joel growls suddenly, slamming the visor shut. He glares at you and jerks the gear stick into reverse. "How many goddamn times have I told you? I can't fuckin' see that side when I'm reversin' and you got that thing down."

"Maybe you need to get some glasses if you can't see," you quip nonchalantly while twisting off the lid of your lipstick from its tube. "Old man," you add half under your breath before applying your make up.

"Oh yeah, you're so funny," Joel snaps sarcastically. The engine revs and the tires squeal as he quickly reverses out of the driveway. He grips the top of the steering wheel with one of his large hands, the other resting tense on the gear stick. He usually lays that one on your thigh while he drives, for he's always eager to touch you, to reassure himself that what he owns is close by.

But today neither of you touch. There is no air of affection between you. The atmosphere in the truck is thick with tension and punctuated by sour, fractious silence. It lasts for five gruelling minutes before you decide that you can't take it any longer.

You reach over and push the button on the stereo and the radio comes crackling to life with a crooning, old fashioned country song. You make a small noise of disgust in the back of your throat and press another button to scan through the different stations. You are trying to search for something more palatable, something more upbeat to lift you out of this shitty mood.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Joel mutters, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. "Quit messin' around with my radio. I like the station it was on."

"Come on, Joel. I don't want to listen to that crap." You huff. When you jump over to the next channel the speakers trumpet out a fast paced, beat driven track. Yes!

"Too bad. Ain't your truck, now is it, sweetheart?" Joel's thick fingers reach out and click the radio off without so much as a glance your way. You stare at him, half in surprise and half in rage. There is a self satisfied manner to his posture now, his shoulders a little more relaxed, his brow no longer pulled into a frown. There is even a hint of smug smirk on his mouth. He's cocky, the way he asserts his dominance over you, even through such small gestures. Sometimes you wonder if he does these things to antagonise you.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get my own car so I can play my own music," you snap, crossing your arms and glaring out the passenger window.

"Oh yeah?" Joel chuckles and shakes his head. "And just how are you gonna do that, baby? With the measly pay you get from waitressin' at that hokey little diner?"

He grins to himself, like the conversation is an amusing joke. You hate it when he is so condescending. His atittude acts as a reminder that he's so much older than you, exceedingly more financially stable, and undeniably more wise and savvy than you could ever be.

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. It isn't the first time Joel has ridiculed your job. He's often pestering you to quit the diner to get a cushy receptionist position at his company instead. He says it's more respectable for your resume, although you suspect it is more so Joel can keep a closer eye on you than anything else.

"I like my job," you retort quietly, staring at the passing scenery outside your window. You hear Joel hum an acknowledgement before he clears his throat.

"I know, honey. I just don't get why," he says, tone considerably softer now. He glances over to you and you can feel the weight of his gaze, you but you don't meet it. "You could be earnin' atleast double what you make if you came to work with me."

The truth is that you genuinely do enjoy your job. You like keeping busy and being a part of the close knit team that operate the place. You cherish the rapport you've built with the regular costumers and you thrive on the praise they give you. Leaving your position would be giving up your safe space, somewhere where you belong and feel valued. It would be forfeiting your only remaining slice of independence.

You don't share any of this with Joel.

"They need me," you say in a small voice. "That's what Lenny always says."

Lenny is your boss, a funny and kind older gentleman who acts like a surrogate uncle to you. He often jokes that he has been managing the diner longer than you've been alive. He has always been a source of support for you, as have the other waitresses and line cooks.

Joel snorts derisively. "They don't need you, honey. They just use ya. Lenny wouldn't think twice about replacin' you if he had to."

"That's not true," you mumble weakly. You know what Joel says is not true but there is still a tiny niggling doubt in your mind that perhaps Joel is right. He usually is, after all.

He puts his large palm over your knee where your skirt has ridden up and strokes the bare skin there. The touch of his thick, calloused hand feels possessive. "Trust me darlin', some other girl would be fillin' your shoes before you even step foot outta that shithole."

His tone isn't cruel; he sounds matter of fact and concerned, paternal in his conviction. You sigh softly and don't bother to argue back. You don't speak for the rest of the few minutes drive to your work. The tension in the truck lingers, a sense of unease that makes you feel on edge, but Joel seems totally unaffected by it. He hums, carefree and seemingly oblivious, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other still on your knee. Always so in control, always so confident.

You stare out the window with a vacant expression, a myriad of thoughts passing through your mind.

How much money have I saved now? Will Joel be angry if I work the double shift on Saturday? I need the money. Should I tell him about the invite to Paul's party now or later? My sister texted again but I just ignored it - Joel would say I keep inviting drama into my life if I text back, but I feel bad.

You don't realise how quickly the drive passes until the rundown Lenny's sign comes into view and bursts your train of thought like a bubble. As Joel pulls into the parking lot you realise just how eager you are to don your little apron and turn off all the thoughts and emotions you don't want to deal with. Joel parks the truck and you have to fight the urge to jump out and scurry straight through the diner door.

"I'll see ya tonight, baby," he murmers, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, the scruff of his moustache tickling your lips. You flash him a little smile and slip out of the truck.

The diner was busier than usual today. The steady trickles of people meandering through to get a bite to eat or something to quench their thirst make it impossible for you to even get a decent lunch break. You and Teresa bustled around the tables serving endless cups of coffee and milkshakes alongside stacks of plates laden with burgers, fries, sandwiches and all day breakfast specials. The lunch time rush was so chaotic that you thought the line cook would have a heart attack.

You didn't mind being run off your feet - it made the noise in your head turn into low level static, a kind of vibration that silenced the anxiety and allowed you to simply exist. Working as a team, being surrounded by friends, helped you to breathe more clearly, and by the end of the day you felt a pleasant ache in your cheeks from smiling so much.

The flow of patrons only began to dwindle once the end of your shift rolled around. The sun was beginning to set, pretty pink and orange hues splashed over the western horizon, signalling the end of the day. You stand outside the diner around the side of the building and share a smoke with Tony, one of the linecooks. He's an older man around Joel's age, with a charming smile and eyes that seem to twinkle. He's always affable and chatty, a perfect gentleman.

"You goin' to Paul's party?" He asks as he takes an inhale of his cigarette. He leans against the brick wall and passes the rolled cigarette to you. You accept it and take a drag.

"I dunno," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder, exhaling a winding curl of smoke from your nose. "Not sure what I'm doing that night."

Tony's mouth quirks into a half smile and he nods, something playful and knowing in his expression. You raise an eyebrow at him and cock your head to the side curiously.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tony holds his hand out and you pass the cigarette back to him. "Nothing," he replies casually. "Just wondering if it's that or if it's because that boyfriend of yours won't let you."

You wrap an arm around your middle and scoff, but the noise comes out sounding more defensive than you would have liked. "He's got nothing to do with it," you mutter, kicking at the pavement with the toe of your shoe.

Tony nods sagely and pops the smoke inbetween his lips. "Uh-huh," he dismisses smoothly, "well anyway, me and Teresa are goin', if you wanna hitch a lift with us."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

Less than a minute later you spy Joel's truck cruise down the road and turn into the parking lot, the engine rumbling loudly amidst the muffled sound of country music vibrating through the windows. The arrival of his vehicle acts as an unspoken cue to end your conversation with Tony. Tony seems to understand; he flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot before shooting you a smile.

"G'night," he murmers. He wipes his palms on his apron and steps around you to walk back into the diner. Joel pulls up a few parking spaces from where you stand, further toward the back of the building and away from the diner entrance. You stroll over to the truck and smile when he opens the driver side door. The twangy music reverberates from the speakers inside the truck and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Hey baby," Joel greets you with his smooth Texan drawl. He switches off the engine before unclicking his seat belt, then hauls himself out of the truck.

"Why are you getting out?" You ask with a frown. "I've clocked off, let's go home."

He smirks and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his front. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Couldn't wait to have you in my arms, that's all," he murmurs. "Missed ya today."

You wrap your arms around his middle and lean your head against his chest. "Missed you too."

Joel tucks a stand of stray hair behind your ear and then strokes his thumb along your jawline. "Yeah?" He purrs. "You missed your daddy?"

You nod your head and nuzzle your nose into the soft, comforting material of his flannel. He chuckles softy and cups the side of your jaw in his palm. "How about we get goin' home and you can show me just how much you missed me, hmm?"

"Mmhmm," you whisper, letting your body relax into his embrace. You feel your eyes drifting closed. You are so tired and your feet ache. The thought of going home with Joel sounds perfect; he'll choose a movie and pick up some takeout and you two will snuggle up on the couch and retreat away from the world.

Joel slowly spins around so that your back presses against the side of his truck. You giggle softly and tilt your head to look up at him. He gazes down at you intently, a glint of hunger swirling in his brown eyes as he scans your face.

His large hand slides from your jaw back to the nape of your neck. "You're so pretty, baby," he cooes. His fingers thread through the strands of hair at the base of your skull, gently at first, before he closes his fist and pulls your hair taut in his grip. You wince at the sting of your scalp. "So pretty. And just for me, right?"

Joel suddenly captures your mouth in an impassioned kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips with a dominanting force that almost feels desperate, as if he wants to consume you. You feel overwhelmed by the intensity but you let it happen, allowing your mouth to be claimed by him. You can taste the coffee and mint on his breath, while the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils - it intoxicates your senses, making you slightly dizzy, and you sag back against the car.

Joel's other hand squeezes your hip possessively. You're pinned between him and the truck and it makes you feel small and vulnerable, more or less trapped by his solid frame. He slots his thigh inbetween your legs and you feel the buckle of his belt dig into your stomach.

You wait until you are struggling to breath before you finally press your palms against his broad chest and push, although you're far too weak to actually get him to stop. He eventually relents and breaks the kiss, though he keeps his face close to yours.

"Make it so fuckin' hard to keep my hands off you," he mutters, nuzzling his aquiline nose against yours. You let out a breathless giggle and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

"Let's go home, it's been a long day," you offer. Joel presses a light kiss on the tip of your nose and grins, his warm breath beating over your cheeks.

"Not yet," he whispers, "can't stop myself, baby. You already got me so fuckin' hard." He grinds his erection against your crotch, his hardened cock straining the material of his jeans. "Feel that, honey? Feel how fuckin' crazy you make me?"

You feel a tug of panic within your tummy. He has that telltale tone in his voice; gravelly with lust, but with something dangerous simmering below the insistent ardor of his affection. It is how he sounds when he wants something.

And Joel always gets what he wants.

"Joel...," you murmer hesitantly, trying to keep the nervousness from cracking through your voice. "Not here, please not now. Let's go home first."

You're grateful that Joel has collected you from the back corner of the parking lot, just far enough to be partly secluded from traffic and other people walking around. But you are still less than sixty feet from the inside of the diner where your coworkers and boss are currently still working.  

"Just for a minute, baby, just need to feel you real quick." Joel reaches down and hitches up the hem of your skirt to dip his hand underneath. The caress of his calloused hand gliding up to the apex of your thighs causes a shiver to crawl up your spine. His touch always feels so good, so enticing, and when his fingers find the crotch of your panties a gasp escapes your lips.

"Joel," you whisper anxiously, clutching to the lapel of his jacket. He presses his fingers to your clit, groaning with pained lust when he feels the damp material of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes. He fingertips begin to draw light circles over the bud, immediately eliciting a spark of pleasure to flood through your lower belly. "Just needed to feel you, sweetheart. Been thinkin' of you all day."

Joel leans down and kisses you once again, tongue slipping into your mouth and lapping at yours with fervid hunger. You feel your hips buck involuntarily, your body suddenly craving his touch, greedy for him to continue his minstrations.

He rubs your clothed clit with expert dexterity, the pressure steady but just light enough that your climax builds quite quickly. You hate how quickly he can unravel you, how effortlessly he seems to command your pleasure; but the blossoming ecstasy seems to rob you of your shame, making you forget just where you are.

All you can focus on is Joel.

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest and your breath comes in short, heavy exhalations through your nose. You feel your pussy flutter with electric pulses - you're close.

So fucking close.

Then it stops.

Joel withdraws his hand from your heat and loosens his other from your hair at the same time. He breaks away from the kiss and shuffles his boots backward a step, pulling out of your grasp.

What the fuck?

You lean forward in an embarrassing attempt to chase his lips, and whine in frustrated confusion.

"Joel what are you doing?" You pout, scowling at him.

He ignores you, glancing down as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. You watch as he takes hold of his hard cock and pulls it out from his underwear, foreskin retracting to reveal the fat head already wet with precum.

Your eyes widen in shock and your head swivels from side to side, nervously scanning for any sign of someone walking by. "Joel!" You hiss. "Are you insane?!

"Sssh," Joel croons, not bothering to look up at you. "Can't help it, baby, you're driving me crazy." He gives a lazy pump of his cock and steps between your legs again, his heavy boots nudging your feet apart to widen your stance. "Come on honey, be good for me."

"No, Joel, not here, please," you protest hurriedly, but he isn't listening to you. His massive hand tugs your skirt upwards, exposing your legs to the cool evening air and the warm metal of the truck behind you. Joel forcefully slots his body inbetween your thighs and impatiently yanks your underwear to the side, your slick arousal smearing over your lips. Your panic increases when you feel the heat of his cock press against the opening of your pussy.

He won't actually fuck you here, will he?

"Joel!" You plead, smacking your hands against his chest helplessly. You've got to get him to stop, to wake him out of this horny stupor. Someone could pass by any second and see what's happening. You'll be humiliated if anyone finds you in such a compromising position, but you will surely die from mortification if someone from work spies you. "Please."

A low growl of annoyance rumbles from Joel's chest and his hand comes to squeeze your hip, not tight enough to hurt you but firm enough to make you stop moving. He glares at you now, his pupils blown wide with predatory desire, his jaw ticking. You whimper and let your hands fall to your sides.

"I ain't askin'," Joel warns in a husky whisper. "Open up, little girl."

There's no use fighting it.

You basically agreed to it anyway, letting him touch you like that just a moment ago.

You stay silent as you acquiesce, spreading your legs further and hitching one up to sit over his hip. "That's it," he purrs lowly, "let me in."

The stretch of the crown of his cock breaching your hole makes you grimace in discomfort. He is big - the biggest you've ever had - and it always hurts when he first ruts into you. You're wet but no where near enough to facilitate a smooth entry, especially because he hasn't worked you open on his fingers beforehand either.

He groans with satisfaction when he slides into your pussy in short stuttering bursts, hand on your hip gripping you tight in place. You scrunch your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip to try repress the pained moans threatening to spill out from you.

"You're tight, honey," Joel murmers. "You gotta relax." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek in his large palm tenderly. "Breathe through it, come on."

He tilts his head down to press a light kiss to your hairline and the scratch of his scruffy beard prickles your skin. He is only halfway inside of you and the sting of intrusion seems to only intensify; maybe your body is rejecting Joel, so conscious of your shame and unwillingness that your insides are refusing to adjust.

You remember the first time you and Joel had fooled around, how intimidated you were when you had discovered just how well endowed he was. *"Don't worry, baby, I'll make it fit," he had said with a chuckle.

And that's what he was going to do now - make it fit, whether or not you were ready for it.

You don't even get the chance to regulate your breathing before Joel drives his hips forward and feeds his length all the way inside you. Your mouth falls open and a choked whine claws its way up your throat, and on reflex your hands ball the flannel of his shirt into your fists.

You're so unbelievably full.

"Good girl," Joel praises you in a velvety mumble that makes your clit unexpectedly throb. "Knew you could take it."

You can't help but preen on the inside at the tiny scrap of approval. You feel your pussy clench and unclench around him. You whimper and flutter your eyelids open, your dizzying vision settling on the tanned skin of Joel's strong neck, the veins by his jugular. You fight the urge to latch onto the spot and sink your teeth into him, to do something to bite back at him.

His hips start to saw back and forth with steady momentum, slowly punching his fat girth in and out of you. The burning sensation eventually dulls but the feeling of your insides parting continues to bombard you, bordering on unbearable, and it makes you mewl pathetically.

"Never get sick of splittin' this pussy open. Love seein' you cry on my cock." Joel plants a sloppy kiss on the side of your temple, seeming to relish the taste of the salty sweat of your skin.

Joel's appetite for sex has always been pretty voracious; it isn't uncommon for him to sneak up on you in the kitchen and bend you over the counter to fuck you while you're trying to cook, or for you to wake up in the mornings with his tongue lapping at your cunt. It still surprises you that a man his age has such insatiable desire, but you really can't complain, not when he's able to coax orgasm after orgasm from your body so effortlessly.

But right now you're desperately wishing he would atleast try to control himself, that he wouldn't let his animalistic compulsion cloud his sense of rationality and make him so reckless. Joel is usually a conservative kind of man, no nonsense and a tad grumpy in temperament, who would probably sneer in disgust at the idea of a man fucking his woman outside the privacy of their home. Those who know him would never in their wildest dreams guess that Joel would do such a thing - such debauchery is far more characteristic of his younger brother, Tommy.

But with you it seems Joel loses all sense of conventionalism.

You wouldn't have ever imagined him doing this, either, considering how possessive and protective he is. But you've learnt that Joel seems to foresake his self righteous attitude whenever it suits him, and more often than not when it benefits him.

Maybe you should've tried harder to persuade him to stop, to take you home instead.

"You daddy's little cock slut?" Joel rumbles in your ear. His hand leaves its bruising hold on your hip to slide over your mound. You feel the rough pad of his thumb press on your clit and your legs twitch at the contact.

He starts to swipe deft circles over the bud and soon a buzzing wave of bliss reignites once more throughout your belly. You can't help but moan, the uncomfortable sensation of being forced open finally dissipating enough to allow you to feel a degree of pleasure.

He maintains the momentum of his hips rolling against yours as he rubs your clit; soon your body is overtaken with the barrage of Joel's movements and the ecstasy he imposes upon you, and you find yourself going slack against the truck panel. The shame and anxiety you felt begins to fade as you surrender to Joel.

Your legs tremble and he senses your strength draining, always so attuned to your body and the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. He gives your cheek a light slap.

"Stay with me, baby," Joel commands."Hold on to me, I got you."

You obey, your hands feebly grabbing at the meat on his flanks to help keep you steady. He nods down at you, his fat cock still plunging in and out of your pussy, all while he massages your clit. He plays your body so expertly, like an instrument, like he knows you inside and out, knows that he's the only man who can take you apart so deliciously. Your mind starts to feel like it's floating the closer your orgasm creeps up.

"That's it, honey. You love this cock so fuckin' much, don't you? Joel grits, nuzzling his nose against your forehead. His accent is like honey to your ears, thick and dripping with lust as he whispers filth. "Greedy little pussy can't ever say no to gettin' fucked, can she?"

You whine brokenly in response, breaths coming out in short pants. You're so close, the residual pressure of your previously unfulfilled orgasm heightening every punch of Joel's cock, every circle of his digit on your clit. He continues to speak, praising you with a silky string of adoration, good girl and the best pussy I ever had dripping from his mouth.

Your orgasm reaches its peak and a swell of intense bliss blossoms from the depths of your loins to surge all throughout your body. Your pussy contracts and spasms, a trickle of juice squirting down Joel's shaft and over his balls. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out, causing a drop of blood to bloom out over your tongue. Your fingernails are close to tearing Joel's shirt, surely leaving indents on his skin even through the material.

"Yeah, that's it baby, cum on this cock," Joel rumbles with satisfaction.

He fucks you through your orgasm to prolong your high, but you quickly reach the point of overstimulation; you plead for him to stop, your voice hoarse and tired, devoid of strength. He continues for a few seconds longer, just to tease you and make you squirm on his dick, but then he stops.

"Good girl, so good for me," he whispers, planting another wet open kiss against your temple, his mouth hot and slobbering.

You're exhausted now and just want to sleep, the post orgasm delirium settling over your mind and body like a thick cloud.

But Joel isn't finished with you yet.

He sets both his massive hands on your hips and begins to fuck into you with renewed vigor. It rips you from the alluring pull of drowsiness and you squeal at the unexpected brutish pace he sets, the force and tempo verging on bestial, like he's purposely punishing you. The edge of your underwear grinds uncomfortably against your labia and chafes the sensitive skin there.

Joel uses his grip to pull you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, a toy whose sole purpose is to be used for his pleasure. The euphoria from your orgasm has completely disappeared now, replaced with sharp stabs of pain from where the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grit your teeth and claw at his sides, desperately wishing it was over.

He's so deep inside you that you swear he's stabbing into your stomach. Each stroke squeezes an involuntary guttural moan from the bottom of your lungs.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel growls. "Let everybody hear you whinin' like a bitch on my cock."

You are suddenly flooded with the mortifying remembrance of your surroundings. You aren't in your cosy bed in the house you share with Joel - you're still in the public parking lot by your work place, being screwed by your much older boyfriend. Burning shame and humiliation pour over you like liquid flames, saturating and scorching every inch of your skin.

You feel dirty. Cheap.

Like he's reading your mind, Joel leans down to whisper in your ear with chilling comtemptuousness. "Lettin' me rail you in a fuckin' parking lot, like some kinda whore."

You're caught off guard by the venom of his words; a tiny gasp escapes your mouth and your fingers instinctively loosen their grasp on his back. He doesn't seem fazed by the change in your body language, too engrossed in chasing his own high to perceive how deflated you've abruptly become.

Or maybe he just doesn't care.

"Yeah. Gotta be a real shameless slut to get fucked like this. Surprised you ain't got a load stuffed in you already."

You stare at the tanned expanse of his neck once more, your eyes unblinking like you're in a trance. The prickling of tears sting at the back of your eyeballs. You'd never cheat on Joel, would never have sex with someone else. Why is he saying these things?

Your stomach feels sick. You hadn't wanted to do this in the first place - it was Joel who seduced you to. But still, he's right, isn't he? You are letting him fuck you against his truck and you aren't even telling him to stop.

Like it's just part of your job.

"'S what you are," Joel croons harshly, "aint nothin' but a dirty whore cummin' on her daddy's cock. A real brainless bitch only good for spreadin' her legs."

Joel has always been the more dominant partner during sex with you. It comes so naturally to him, slipping into an authoritative role in the bedroom as easily as he does in day to day life as a manager of his own construction company. He does not relinquish control in any area of his life.

But this feels different. There is something prowling right below the surface of this whole situation that makes you feel uneasy; it is in the barbed edge to his speech, the uncaring movements of his hips, the animalistic heaving of his breaths. A feeling that he wants to hurt you.

"Bet you'd let me fuck your ass right now too." Joel pants in your ear, words slurring slightly from the fervid of his own gratification, like he's drunk. "Bet you'd fuckin' love that, lettin' me bust a nut in your little asshole."

You feel your heart crack a little at the cruelty of his tongue, how easily they seem to slither from his mouth like a serpent. You don't speak back.

"I'm gonna keep all your holes filled," he mutters. "Make sure you're drippin' all the time. That what you want, baby?"

Through the haze of your pain you can detect the telltale throb of his cock, the way his hips move in a more frenzied, sloppy rhythm. You know his body just as well as he knows yours; he's about to cum, and when you feel the momentary swelling of his girth you brace yourself for his climax. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips painfully.

"Take it, bitch, take it all."

Joel slams his cock deep inside your pussy one last time before his cum erupts over your walls and cervix, filling you to the brink with his milky spend. He moans and grunts in your ear, his chest heaving against your frame, crushing you further into the panel of the truck, crumpling your far more delicate and smaller body.

He pulls out of you swiftly and you are immediately hit by the aching emptiness left inside you. You scramble to adjust your panties and to pull your skirt down, and your balance teeters dangerously. Joel is quick to catch you from falling to the ground, wrapping his hands around your upper arms to keep you upright.

"Whoa, honey, easy." He soothes, soulful coffee brown eyes darting all over your face with concern. His expression is so soft, a complete juxtaposition to the predatory scowl he wore just minutes ago, like he's transformed into a totally different man. "You okay?"

You nod your head, eyes fluttering open and shut as your brain fights against the foggy film of dissociation permeating your thought process. Are you okay? You aren't really sure.

"Mhm," you murmer anyway, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, my perfect girl," he whispers softly, so reverent and loving. "I love you so much." He tilts your chin up with his thumb and plants a tender kiss on your lips; you can't help but melt into it, like a kitten desperate for warmth and affection. The mist surrounding your senses abates quickly, leaving you staring up at Joel with mirrored adoration in your eyes. He strokes your hair and gives you a small smile, the dimple in his side visible for a second.

"I love you too." You preen and reach up to stroke at the patchy beard along his jaw, marvelling at just how handsome he looks. You want to savour this moment, wishing to memorise just how beautiful the intimacy between you and Joel feels right now.

He loves you. You love him. That's all you need. It's all you want.

"Come on honey, let's go home and get somethin' to eat," he tells you, stepping away and making quick work of buckling his belt back up.

You nod in agreement, getting ready to haul yourself up into the truck when your mind suddenly snaps alert to the lack of weight on your shoulder. You whine in annoyance as you realise the mistake you made. "Shit! I forgot my purse inside. Ugh."

"Well go on and get it," Joel drawls, laidback and unbothered. "I'll wait for ya." He gives your ass an encouraging pat. "Hurry along."

You sigh dramatically and turn around to go back inside. He folds his arms and leans back against the truck, eyeing the sway of your ass while he tries to conceal the conceited triumph radiating through his chest. Yeah, he knows what he pulled was an asshole move, but it had to be done. You've been getting a little too mouthy for his liking, a little too friendly with your coworkers. And once he knocks you up you won't have any more excuses to keep working at this shitty diner. You will be at home, barefoot and pregnant, with no where else to go and no one else to rely on. You'll be marked for life. A kept woman.

He smiles a little to himself, content with the knowledge that as you make the walk back to the diner the slow gush of his semen will be creeping into the gusset of your panties.

credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider

[no-144444]

HI! i love your writing and i was wondering if you would do a grid reacts to us finding out we were a bet? And if you wouldn't mind adding Logan too?

Thanks ml xxxx

the grid reacts: you find out you're a bet!

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

thank you for requesting! xxxx

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

Oscar Piastri:

He walked into your shared apartment, a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and you’d both been too busy to call or text too much, so finally, he’d be back with his girl. 

He wasn’t expecting the bare apartment he’d known so well before you’d moved in. He wasn’t expecting your things to be gone, or the note on the table, or your engagement ring beside it. 

Dear Oscar, 

I found out. I know we were a bet, and I know you’d try to convince me that you loved me, and that it was all real. I don’t doubt that it was real. I know I loved you, and I felt the love from you (either that, or you’re a brilliant actor and picked the wrong profession). But I feel betrayed. I wish you would’ve just come to me immediately and told me how we started, even if I was mad at you for a while. You kept a huge secret for 2 years, Oscar. That’s not a short amount of time. I love you, and I still love you, but I need some time on my own to figure stuff out. I moved back out into my old apartment, and don’t worry, I’m still your girlfriend, but I just wanted space to think. We’ll work our way back up to being fiancé’s but until then, I am still very much yours, unless you don’t want me to be. I need to trust you again. 

Love, Y/n. 

His heart sank. He knew it was stupid to try and keep it a secret, and it had truly been tearing him apart for the last 2 years, but this… this was too much. He was thankful that you two at least we’re breaking up. But the engagement reversal thing was fucking with him. He adored you. He loved you. Yes, it was stupid, but he did stupid stuff all the time. Forgetting his keys, sleeping through his alarm, wearing his shirt inside out. You always told him it was endearing. 

“Hey,” your voice brought him out of his trance. “I wanted to be here when you came back, sorry, there was traffic.”

He turned around to see you. You looked at him. He was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as you nodded. 

“I know you are,” you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this, yeah?”

He nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You let him cry it out for a little while, then pulled away. 

“You’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, yeah?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” you reminded him, wiping away tears as you went along. 

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I was so scared a-and-”

“I understand,” you nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

He nodded, playing with your engagement ring in his hands. He broke again, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him again, letting him calm himself down. “Please put it back on,” he whispered, begging you. 

You thought about it for a moment. You loved Oscar, and you knew you’d forgive him. It was harder not to forgive him, in all honesty. You’d read his hundreds of drafts of the speeches he had planned to say to you. Lando had shown them to you when he told you. You knew how this had been tearing him apart. But you knew how it stung, being betrayed like this. 

“Ok,” you nodded. He slipped the ring back onto your finger and a weight was lifted off of his chest, while one was placed onto yours. 

God, maybe love did conquer all. And that idea fucking terrified you. 

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

Logan Sargeant:

“Go up to her, she’s a McLaren engineer,” Lewis’s friend’s voice rang out over the speaker of your phone. “I’ll give you 2 grand if you can fuck her tonight.”

“It’s not like I need the money,” Logan smirked, cocky as ever. “But I’ll take that.”

The camera panned to Logan walking up to you, and your world shattered. 

------

“Hey babe,” he called, walking into the apartment. There you were sitting, seething on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Great,” you answered shortly. “Have you looked at social media recently?”

“No, why?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist. He tried not to read into your stiff posture. Was this the moment? Had you really found out? 

“I was a bet,” you sighed, brushing his hands off of you. “And you didn’t even have the heart to tell me.”

You hadn’t planned on crying, you thought you’d scream at him, give him a piece of your mind, but it was hard to get angry when he was standing there, looking so helpless. You loved him, and all you’d ever been to him was a bet. You’d only met a year ago, started dating 6 months ago. You’d meant nothing the entire time. Just a fuck and a check. You just felt… defeated, and used. 

“Baby please, let me explain, it’s not what-” He started but you sighed.

“Explain what? That you ‘love’ me? I don’t care. I deserve someone who tells me the truth, and you couldn’t even do that. I had to find out with the rest of the world. Don’t you realise how stupid I look? All the posts I made, everything I told my friends and family, and the entire time it’s all been a lie? I look like a fucking idiot.” 

Logan looked down, ashamed. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I’ll do anything to make this right, please Y/n, I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? And how am I going to look going back to you? Why did you fuck this all up?” You groaned in frustration. “I fucking loved you!” 

“I love you too!” he pleaded. “Please let me make this right, I don’t care about the media, or whatever, I care about you, and I care about us.”

“What ‘us’? We’ve been based on a lie this entire time!”

“Please don’t say that,” he was crying now, so were you. “Please don’t say it was a lie.” 

You took your hand from his. “Logan, we’re done. Please don’t contact me.”

And that was that. He broke your heart and you broke his. 

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

Daniel Riccardo: 

He watched in horror as you opened the message on his phone from Scotty. 

“You have to tell her. This isn’t right anymore Dan.”

“What is Scott talking about?” You chuckled. 

“Nothing,” Daniel smiled, but it looked forced. 

“Dan, come on, you can tell me,” you smiled sweetly. 

“Seriously, I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he nervously chuckled. 

Your face dropped into an angry frown. “So he was right, you wouldn’t even admit it if I gave you the chance,” you sighed. “That’s great, thanks Daniel.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I know about the bet,” you sighed. “Scotty told me last week.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you turned to him. “Why would you lie?” 

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” 

“Of losing you,” he shrugged. “I thought it would just be better to… keep you in the dark I guess. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” you sighed, looking up at him. 

You were both silent for a moment.

“What does this mean for us?” he asked. 

“What ‘us’? We were based on a lie Daniel. A lie you told for a whole year.”

“So that’s it?” he gritted out. 

“That’s it.”

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

George Russell: 

“Have you talked to her about it yet?” Alex asked. “You have to tell her mate, it’s gone on too long.”

“It’s been 6 months Alex, and, by the way, I actually love her,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it.”

“Explain what? That you were dared to ask her out for money? Mate, you sound like a dick no matter what, she’ll break up with you no matter what,” Alex sighed, disappointed in his friend. 

“She’s probably right to,” George admitted. “Fuck!” he groaned. 

You stepped into the room, trying to pretend that everything was alright. Both of the men looked up, terrified of what came next. 

“Please let me explain,” George rushed out, taking your hand. Alex quickly left you two to speak alone, patting you on the back as he left. George stood up and took your hand. 

You nodded. “Explain.”

George’s frown lifted slightly, elated that you would even give him the chance to explain. “It was a stupid bet and I never took any money. I stopped speaking to the guys after we met, and I promise I’ve been trying to tell you, I just… I get scared every time that I’ll lose you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you Y/n. And I’m so sorry.”

You nodded. “I just… give me some time, yeah?”

He nodded. “All the time you need, of course.” 

You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in a short hug. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

He nodded, letting himself enjoy your embrace. “Please call me. Anytime.”

You pulled back, still holding back your tears somehow. “Yeah. Good luck today.”

“If I win, it’ll be for you. It’s always for you,” he smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaving with a broken heart, and a choice to make. 

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

Alex Albon: 

“Can we talk?” Alex asked, 2 months in.

“About what?” you questioned. You were sitting in his apartment in Monaco, eating dinner before catching a movie at a nearby cinema. 

“How we met.”

“Proceed,” you nodded, turning your full attention to him. 

“We met at Jimmy’s, and I was there with my friends, and we were being assholes, and I'm sorry that’s how you met me,” he hesitated. “And that night, I was dared to go up to you, only because they knew I’d never get a chance with you because you’re… well, you’re you, and I’m me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were just having so much fun and-”

“You thought you couldn’t get a chance with me?” You chuckled. 

Alex looked up. “Well, no. You’re gorgeous-”

“You’re a very hot Formula 1 driver! Alex, I was losing it when you came up to me!” 

“I thought you didn’t know anything about F1?!” 

“I don’t! But I know about hot famous guys!”

“You liar!” he laughed. 

“You lied too!” you laughed. 

He smiled. “ I guess we’re pretty evenly matched then, yeah?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, then leaned over and pressed your lips to his. 

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

Charles Leclerc: 

You and Charles were new, like new new.But he’d invited you to the paddock nonetheless, and you had the weekend off, so off you went to the Ferrari garage. You’d met the so-called ‘Prince of Monaco’ at an Indycar event a few months back when he got your number, and since then you’d been texting back and forth. He finally asked you out, and you agreed, I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Even though you worked in Indycar, you were a born and raised Monegasquean and you were proud of your heritage, and pretty excited to be dating the Monegasque. 

“Oh shit,” Pierre grumbled, bumping into you. Recognition finally crossed his face and he smiled. “Y/n, right? We met at the Indycar thing, right?”

“Hi Pierre, yeah, nice to see you,” you smiled. Behind him came Charles, a bright smile for you. 

“Are you here for work or-? Oh, for Charles,” he smirked and turned back to Charles . “Le pari est-il toujours valable?” (is the bet still on?)

Your face faltered. Charles didn’t tell you about any bet. What bet?

“Je ne lui ai pas encore dit,” Charles mumbled. Pierre’s smirk grew, as did the sinking pit in your stomach. (I haven’t told her yet.)

“Hey,” Charles turned to you with a smile on his face. 

“Hi,” you nodded, more reserved than before. “Congrats on pole.”

His smile dampened. “Is everything alright?”

“All good,” you mustered up your fakest smile. “Ne parie peut-être pas sur une fille qui vit à Monaco, connard.” (Maybe don't make a bet over a girl who lives in Monaco, asshole.) 

Charles looked dumbstruck for a moment, and you left him like that. You were worth more than that. 

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

Lewis Hamilton: 

“Have you told her yet?” George asked, eying you from the other side of the garage. 

Lewis shook his head. “I can’t find the right time.” “You need to tell her soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tells her.” 

“I know I do, I just… everytime I try to bring it up it’s like she’s extra sweet and perfect and I just can’t break her heart like that-”

“Break who’s heart?” you asked, standing beside Lewis. 

George shot him a look to say ‘tell her now’, and he nodded. George left you two to talk. 

“I was… I came up to you… I-”

“It was a bet to ask me out, I know,” you nodded, sipping your drink. “Whose heart are you breaking?”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“I overheard you and your friends at the bar that night,” you explained. “I don’t care. We’re dating because of it, I love you, blah, blah, blah,” you smiled. “Unless it’s been a charade the whole time-”

“NO! It hasn’t, I love you, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses to your cheek as you laughed. 

“You thought that would break my heart?”

His ego was becoming a little bit more than bruised. “Hey!”

You laughed. “OK, ok, relax. Yes, it would’ve broken my heart,” you teased. 

He pushed you off, smiling. “I don’t want your pity-”

“Not even a pity fuck?” you whispered, a mischievous smirk on your lips.  

He smiled. “Well, I always want that.”

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

Max Verstappen: 

“Fuck this game!” Max cursed after his game had crashed for the third time. You made your way into the living room, looking in on the game.

“Everything alright?” you asked. 

“All good, sorry liefje,” he responded, not even turning around. 

“Is that the girl we put the bets on?” One of his friends asked. Max panicked and shut down the stream, then immediately turned to you. 

“Liefje…” he started. You stood there in shock. 

“Is that true?” you started. “Was I a fucking bet?!” you shouted. 

“It- I- Yes, it started like that, but I love you, I-I’m in love with you!” 

“How can I ever fucking trust you?” you shot back. “You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ do? I’m leaving Max. You are so not the man I thought you were,” you pushed past him, grabbing some of your essentials from your bedroom as he followed behind you, begging you to stay. 

You left. He was the one who messed up. 

All because of a dumb bet. 

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

Lando Norris: 

He was sweating through his shirt. Max’s eyes bore into him all night, more specifically, how his arm was draped over your shoulder. He understood his best friend’s confusion. It was mere months ago that Lando had been dared to go up to you and ask you out, mere months ago when he sent a photo into the group chat of you sleeping soundly beside him, asking for the transfers from the men who’d told him to ask you out and somehow get you back into his bed before the next morning. Since then, things had in fact changed. He had changed. You had changed him.

“Lan,” Max hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Max,” Lando mumbled. “Not now.”

“She deserves to know,” Pietra shook her head. “Y/n, listen to me, I know Lando had probably been a lovely guy but he asked you out because he was dared to-”

“Pietra!” Lando groaned. “What the fuck!”

You turned to Pietra, pushing Lando’s arm off of you. “Are you serious?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Max added. 

“Y/n please, just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re an asshole, don’t call me again,” you scoffed, getting up and leaving with Pietra following quickly behind. 

Lando was helpless.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[littlelovelunette]

hii you know since first time i read ur works i fell in love with it, darlin

can i request sevika x runway model!reader but make it fluff? Since reader are busy on fashion week, sevika and reader are barely met. One day, when fashion week is over sevika decide to take reader a culinary date because she knows on fashion week reader must maintain her weight, thank you <33

Culinary Date

Contains mentions of starving, dieting and meal skipping, model!r, girlfriend!Sevika.

You had been extra busy with work lately. All the dieting and everything often made you lightheaded because you really needed to watch your weight. Working in the modelling industry definitely wasn't for the weak. Your girlfriend, Sevika, noticed this. She always noticed even the slightest little change in you.

A perfume swap, a new earring or even just new shoes— she'd point it out and chances were high she'd compliment you on it. "Baby, when can we meet again?" Sevika asked, her voice bordering on melancholy. It almost broke your heart knowing you were so busy you couldn't provide enough time to your girlfriend and now she was there asking you when you could meet her again in that puppy tone of voice.

You caved, "Tomorrow my fashion week finally ends, soooo, we could grab lunch together!" You said a little more excitedly than you wanted to let on.

"You sound really happy for someone who tells me she's totally not starving herself." Sevika mumbled on the other side of the phone.

"I am eating properly. Just need to watch my weight is all." You said with a shake of your head. "I'll be fine. You be there on time, pick the location, okay? I have to get going. Bye, I love you." You blew kisses to her before giggling— "Love you too, doll."— and hanging up.

The hurried conversation that day left Sevika to do some deep thinking, and after a while of contemplating she decided she'd take you out a food marathon. A little culinary date to improve your weight after the fashion week. She'd hate to have you blown away by the wind.

The reason why Sevika needed such a long time to come to the conclusion was because she wasn't the time to coddle you and you knew it. Sevika never love bombed. Of course, she bought you the most expensive shits ever, be it perfume, bag or jewelry. Sevika ensured whatever you wore was worth being on your skin. Sevika marked all the restaurants and cafés she planned she'd take you to, spending the night going through their reviews and whatnot.

The next morning, she took more time than usual getting ready and dressing up for you. You deserved the best and you both hadn't been on a date for so long. She missed spending time with you and today she wanted to give you the whole world. She got inside her car, revving the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

“You look stunning.” Sevika smirked seeing you walking out of the runway studio.

You were dressed in a white mini dress with cherry prints paired with a red cardigan. You look absolutely gorgeous, you click-clacked upto Sevika with your red Mary Jane heels that were a gift from her.

“You also look like you lost a lot of weight.” Sevika said, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Yeah, a little.” You shifted. “Hey, can we talk later and get in your car? I'm feeling awfully heady.” Sevika's eyes filled with concern and she didn't let you argue her on it, picking you up bridal style immediately. She placed you down into the passenger seat of her car, closing the door and getting seated herself at the driver's seat.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just… I guess, this fashion week really took it out of me.” You chuckled nervously hoping Sevika didn't get the hint that you'd been skipping meals every now and then to stay in shape.

“Well, that is why I'm asking you out on a culinary date.” Sevika said, reversing the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

“A culinary date? Well, aren't you fancy?” You teased.

Sevika rolled her eyes. “Mainly because you look like skin on bones right now.”

“That was mean.” You pouted.

“Baby, this looks delicious!” you squeaked seeing the pretty strawberry shortcake. Sevika chuckled and pushed your coffee towards you which you eagerly took a sip of. Sevika watched you with a mix of amusement and concern as you took small bites of the cake.

She could see the hesitation in your movements, the way you seemed almost guilty about indulging in something sweet. It made her frown. “You better finish that,” she said, her tone teasing but firm. “I didn’t bring you here just to watch you pick at your food.”

You sighed dramatically but took another bite, letting the strawberry glaze melt on your tongue. “Happy?”

“Getting there.” Sevika leaned back, sipping her espresso. “You really need to start taking care of yourself, doll.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do take care of myself.” Sevika shot you a look.

“Skipping meals isn’t self-care.” Your lips parted slightly, but you had no response. Instead, you stirred your coffee absentmindedly, avoiding her gaze.

“Hey.” Sevika reached across the table, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her eyes. “You know you don’t have to do this to yourself, right?” Your breath hitched slightly. The warmth in her voice, the softness in her usually sharp gaze—it made your chest tighten.

“I just…” You exhaled shakily, gripping your spoon. “There’s a lot of pressure, Sev.”

“I know,” she murmured. “But I don’t give a damn about any of that. You’re already perfect to me.” You let out a small laugh.

“That’s cheesy.” “Maybe,” Sevika smirked. “But it’s true.” You hesitated for a moment before taking another bite of cake, a real bite this time. Sevika nodded approvingly and gestured toward your coffee. “Drink up. I’ve got more plans for us after this.”

You raised a brow. “More plans?”

Sevika’s smirk deepened. “Yeah. If I have to, I’ll personally make sure you get three full meals today.”

You huffed but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, letting Sevika take care of you wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I've Got You Under My Skin 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The keys jingle loudly as you rush out the door with your purse in your other hand. You just need to get out of the house. Sometimes, it feels like a prison. Especially lately. Since the fight.

You feel horrid for what you did. You made a mistake, sure, but you think Steve is right. You weren't paying attention to what he said. Now that you think of it, you may have misinterpreted your conversation based entirely on your own doubts.

Still, you're going to show him that you can do this. You've been reading up on it all night. Researching everything you need.

As you hit the button on the key tag, the car beeps and unlocks. The SUV is a bit bigger than what you would pick but Steve thought it was a good family vehicle. Besides, it's his money.

"Hey," he startles you as he appears from beside the garage. You blink and drop the keys.

"Hi, Stevie," you blanch and bend to pick up the keys as he approaches.

"You're running out," he doesn't sound impressed.

"Um, yes, um, doing some errands. Groceries."

"You could order."

You gulp, "I'm sorry. I was only... wanting to get out."

"Alone?" He inquires.

"Yeah, what--"

"You're not meeting up with Natasha for one of those sugary coffees?" He challenges.

You wince. "No, Captain. I'm not drinking caffeine anymore. It's not good... for conception."

He tilts his head and his cheek dimples, "ah, good girl."

"Do you want to come with me?" You offer.

His shoulders ease, "no. You can go. Grab some more protein. The banana stuff?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Drive safe," he girds.

"I always do."

He nods and turns back, "I'm gonna finish up the weeds."

You stare after him as he marches away. What does he mean? You just dealt with the garden. Once again, not good enough.

You get in the car and adjust the wheel and the seat. You buckle up and set your feet on the pedals. You flip the engine and put it in reverse.

You back out through the gate and onto the street. You drive, jaw locked, fingers cramped, tense in anticipation. You just want to make this better. You just don't know if it's too late.

You go to the grocery store first. You get the few items on your list. You have a lot of the staples still in the cupboards. You check out and use Steve's card. You don't have one anymore. He's a lot better with money than you.

Your next adventure makes you nervous. You stop outside the shop and stare through the window at the stuffed bunnies and the onesies. The maternity shop makes it all so real. You still feel so young. But you can do this. With Steve. He knows what he's doing.

You enter and the air rushes from your chest. Oh. Okay. That breast pump makes you nervous.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A woman chimes an approaches in a bubbly bounce. Her blond ringlets are perfect.

"Ummmm..." you fidget with your phone. "I looked online. Um, for prenatal supplements."

"Ah, yes, we have a whole aisle," she waves her arm and turns to stand beside you. "Do you have questions?"

"A lot," you admit.

"How long have you been trying? Oh, are you already expecting?" She wonders.

The questions feel too personal. Still, it's not like you came here without a purpose. You follow her to the far wall lined with bottles and vials of tablets.

"We're trying. Right now. Starting to. I just want to be healthy." You explain.

"Uh, huh, wonderful," she rubs her hands together. "Some of these you won't need until you're expecting but we can get you a few things. Maybe just have a look around for some inspiration, huh?"

"Sure, that sounds... good."

She explains to you all the organic supplements and even recommends some aphrodisiacs. Thing is, Steve doesn't need those. You pick a few and follow her around as she shows you mobiles and blankies. There's a little Cap squishee even. You pick it up and smile. He'll love that.

You take your goods to the counter and she rings you up. You dig in your purse and hand your card to her. She reads it passingly then pauses. 

"I thought you were familiar. Your Mr. Rogers. The Mrs. Rogers."

You squirm. Oh no. You forget how famous Steve is. Well, it's fine. It's not like she would tell anyone you know, right?

You just nod, "do you have bags?"

"Oh yes, I'll put this all away for you," she unfolds a paper bag and loads it up. "Anything else, Mrs. Rogers."

"Yeah," you choke. "My name's..." you correct her. Sometimes, you just feel like a part of Steve. Not your own person. "Thanks."

You take the bag and your card and leave. You sniff as you get to car and climb into the front seat. You put your purchase in front of the passenger's and sit there a while. You feel weird about this.

Just nerves. You start the car and head home. The trip is too quick. You're not ready.

You get out with the small paper bag and go around the trunk to get the reusable one with the T-bone steak and protein powder. You hit the button to close the hatch and go inside. You'd love to stay out in the sun but you couldn't relax if you tried.

"Stevie?" You call as you reach the kitchen. "Hello?"

He doesn't answer. You wonder if he's outside. You set to putting everything away.

"You're back." He greets, once more frightening you. You hate that.

"I got steak for supper. For you. I'll have some turkey."

"Great," it's not a happy remark. "You didn't come straight home."

You look away guiltily and shake your head. You're so stupid. You know he must have a tracker on the car. You grab the white paper bag.

"I was getting surprises." You offer him the bag. "Stevie, please, I'm sorry. And I meant it. I am trying."

You hold it out and he reaches inside with a scowl. His brows move in curiosity and he pulls out the Captain America plush. His expression softens and he peeks into the bag.

"Supplements. To get ready. And I'll go back for iron pills once I'm ready," you explain. "And I've been reading all night about how to get a baby. I should lay on my back and stay after for a bit. And-- and I ordered a book."

He tosses the plush and grabs you. His hands frame your face as you drop the bag and he pushes you back into the counter. His mouth covers yours as he growls.

You whine and touch his chest, overcome by his force. You were so afraid he wouldn't forgive you, that you're entirely unprepared for this. You manage to pull back.

"I-- Stevie, it won't happen now. But I threw everything out."

"I don't care," he snarls and drops his hands to your hips, "I need you right now." 

He lifts you onto the counter and you squeal. Your stomach flips but you ignore that flicker of fear. How you feel doesn't matter, as long as the Captain's happy.

[h1biscusgal]

ASKS IN A BUNDLE BC IM TIRED : PART 3

YESSSS FOR EVERY QUESTION MY LOVE.

NAH ITS OK, WHENEVER THIS HAPPENS? LITERALLY BE DELULU (ik some people say it's bad to say be delusional, i meant don't feed further into it and take it as a funny shit)

i literally know and been there, i have every proof but my mind wants the material, i simply go by my logic where "i don't see oxygen but it's a fact i breathe it, so the same with my DR."

oh my god i'm sorry what the fuck??? first of all my deepest apologies, are you fine now? i seriously get you and understand what you mean, have you confronted him? tell the school if he's in the same school as urs or actually alert someone about it on higher position to take actions, hacking is no funny business no matter how much "ashamed" your posts are (WHICH ARE NOT, NEVER BE ASHAMED MY LOVE, FUCK THEM). keep calm in the meantime and don't panic at all! affirm continuously that everything is under control, and don't let real life threats mix with your mind, good luck!

MWAH I MISSED U MOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, YESSSSS THIS IS COMMON, it's a state where your mind is actually entering UNAWARE OF ITSELF, but once you say "omg i'm entering" your body will hold u back saying "wtf we are entering? that's not allowed, this only happens when we are unaware." focus on a point or count backwards and simply do WHATEVER you want as long as you keep your mind off it, simply exist and whenever you get the symptoms? be like "oh yeah that's nothing."

OK EASY THING I USED TO DO AND HELPED ME SM: daydream.

no fr, i love daydreaming and imagining scenarios like i'm bayonetta or sm shit (i fucking love netta) anyways, distract yourself gently, feel your body getting pulled back to your senses? be like "oh wait there's another scenario hol up" and go back to it for fun, IGNORING in the best way, but if you're really wanting to get in it without it all, wake up in the dead of the night and try.

I ADORE U SO MUCH MWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ML

THAT'S BEFORE HYPNAGOGIA, hypnagogia is where even when you are numb or see colors, YOU'LL FEEL TRIPPY AND KINDA HIGH.

that's my experience yall, don't come for me,

like i feel being pushed pulled rolled and literally being done everyshit to me, i seriously understand the boredom part but trust me, this time? go and go, affirm and affirm no matter how much it takes, feel bored? imagine what will you say when you wake up and send me a success ask about how you entered and got in! good luck!

FOR REAL UGH, Y'ALL THAT'S LITERALLY IT.

IT IS ACTUALLY MANIFESTING CALLED REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY TECHNIQUE.

hate, negativity, fear, and whatnot is actually a very VERY big metaphor that helps people get their desires bc of how powerful it is once you KNOW how to use it, and no i don't mean go hate yourself, but since this anon KNOWS that whatever she says the opposite happens, it actually applies to her reality. i used to say "ugh i hate apple juice so much"

and then for some fucking reason i keep drinking it.

my mother wanted to go to med school so bad, but she kept saying "i fear engineering, i can go anywhere but never there."

guess who's there then? she PULLED this to her life instead of telling herself she's already in med school.

IQWUEGFYEWQ FIRST CONGRATS BBY, OK TO BE AWARE IN IT, you can either ask yourself thru the day "am i in the void?" so much to the point you'll ask yourself that when you're there, or just repeated "i always stay aware in the void" before sleep like a mantra and that can help a lot, BUT GOOD LUCK DARL I KNEW YOU CAN DO IT.

OMFG GIRL IF YOU STAYED A WHILE LONGER YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN THROWN IN THE VOID.

THAT WAS HYPNAGOGIA BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO WAKE UP FROM IT, i get the fear tho like it is TRIPPY as FUCKKKKKKKKK, BUT CONGRATS YOU WERE SO CLOSE MWAH.

oml you always are in the hypnagogia already-

when you're there, that's the point, throw every anxiety aside, you're literally one second away from everything, stop the "i can't" and flip it to "i can."

watch the thoughts like you're watching tv, at the end every thought will go away and leave a blank tv, there we go, that's the mind clearance, do that before entering, GOOD LUCK.

SYMPTOMS ARE NOT SIGNS MOST OF THE TIME, THEY R JUST YOUR BODY SENDING SIGNALS WHEN SOMETHING NEW IS HAPPENING, when you enter a pool, your body goes cold first, right? that's adapting, same with symptoms, continue as though you already have them bc having them or not having them have no meaning at all!

nah shifting time is in your hands, frustrations are a food to the belief that you need time to shift.

to shift, you have to THINK from your DRSELF, not AS your DRSELF, credits to someone on youtube i heard from, but either way, shifting is not by time, it's by decision, it's not about the method, not about the time, not about the duration, it's simply about you, ACCEPT YOU CAN SHIFT, acceptance is when even when you did not shift, the ability to wake up being like "nah i still shifted, that was fun." that's acceptance y'all, shifting is in your hands darl.

HI LOVE, it's not "reaching" it's just being aware when you reach it, bc every functional human gets it before sleep, and yeah you actually can feel your body bc hypnagogia is not the void!

sit somewhere, and just talk with yourself, why are you scared? what's holding you back? argue with it, tell it to leave, do whatever, but you are the one in control, you overthink it too much, shifting is just being and the void is just awareness, that's all my love.

because once you change yourself, reality will follow.

ITS OK ML, hell yeah you can manifest them with u! you can simply manifest them to be in your timeline as though everything was that way, good luck!

HI DARL, ok so that's actually such a good idea, BUT I CANNOT PROMISE IF I CAN AT THIS MOMENT, but i can promise you whenever i have the time to instantly make one, alr? GOOD LUCK,

hi doll! first of all, i hear you and i understand you, i know how it can feel.

but reality can NEVER fail you, once you decide, it has been decided already, this means changing EVERY thought of the exam, not just "oh i have xyz grade".

it means feeling and KNOWING what you answered was already correct and you know it is, you know you have it and you won't even have one ounce of anxiety, it's like you ordered something and laid back to watch it come to your doorsteps, NOT: didn't order it but i tell myself i have ordered it.

yk?

time does not dictate it, start FRESH and start new, throw all the victimization off, you can do it!

HOLY SHIT YOU'RE ALREADY A MASTER MANIFESTER WHY U LIMITING YOURSELF BBY.

there's this block in your path about it, THROW IT AWAY, and nah it's not ab ignoring or to "have faith".

actually stop giving a fuck and know you'll have it, get doubts, tell yourself "but i literally manifested xyz." omfg my hand hurts.

[probably-writing-x]

Hotter and Hotter

Summary: hi 👋🏼 I don’t know if you take any request now but I will still ask.. Can you write about the scene of the grocery when Conrad just lean on and take a sip (he was soo f hot ) and make it like more flirty and it can go like you want between Conrad x yn? thanks u ❣️

Warnings: Sexual references (Minors DNI)

Author’s Note: I’m not taking requests atm but this came through and I was inspired so maybe I am taking requests, we’ll never know xoxo

“This is the hottest it’s ever been I swear to God,” Conrad grumbles from the couch, hand resting on his chest.

“Well you try and fix the air con then, because it’s doing fucking nothing when we try,” Steven shrugs his shoulders, his head resting back against the seats of the couch from where he sat on the floor.

“You’re an engineer Steven, isn’t this like your job?” Belly points out, dragging her hair away from her face.

The air conditioning in the house had been out all morning and the temperature had been slowly rising with the sun. Now, it was stifling hot inside the house and just as bad outside too. And, clearly, the group were at their wit’s end.

“Okay, can we please stop talking about it? Like, can we talk about anything else?” You roll your eyes, your back against the couch where Conrad was laying, your head mere inches from his.

The two of you had been friends for years, ever since Belly and Steven had started coming to the summer house, you had too. The group of you were always inseparable whenever you were all in Cousins. But, before this summer, you and Conrad had realised your feelings for each other. He’d started calling you every night, texting you more and more often, and eventually the two of you spoke to each other more than anyone else. You’d both agreed, however, that is was not worth the drama for the rest of the group to know that anything was going on. You’d kept things completely private and, so far, it worked.

You’d turned up to the summer house this year terrified to see him again, and when you had done, it was like there was a weird tension that you’d never known before. There were sparks whenever he looked at you, electricity coursing through you whenever you briefly touched. You hadn’t even kissed the boy and yet all you could think about was doing so. It was driving you insane.

“Well, what else do you want to talk about, (y/l/n)?” He turns his head so that it is facing you but you keep your gaze averted away, worried he’ll make you blush.

“Anything,” You groan, “Like, seriously, it’s making it worse if all we talk about is how hot we are.”

He smirks, “You think you’re hot, (y/n)?”

You whip your head around to face him and roll your eyes, “Grow up, Con.”

His smirk remains, eyes trailing over your face as the conversation grows behind you. Jere and Belly were agreeing on getting into the pool and Steven was refusing to join them under the premise that he couldn’t find any swimming shorts in his suitcase.

“How about we head to the store?” Conrad suggests, pushing himself up to sit on the couch, “We can get some cold drinks, some ice cream, anything remotely cold.”

The group all sound into chorus of agreement and you nod too.

“Yeah, just get anything they’ve got,” You encourage, watching as he swings his legs over the side of the couch so that he’s sat next to you now, his knee bumping your shoulder.

“Oh, you’re coming with me,” He nudges you, “I need someone to help me push the cart.”

Conrad stretches out a hand to you and waits for you to take it.

“Right because that’s definitely a two person job,” You roll your eyes, taking the grip of his hand and pushing yourself up from the floor.

“Oh, absolutely it is,” Conrad shrugs his shoulders, walking out of the lounge towards the front door, grabbing his car keys on the way.

———

You sit in the passenger seat and he sets his hand behind your chair as he reverses, the air con in his car blasting enough for you to both cool down.

“Why didn’t we think of coming in your car earlier?” You question, glancing out of the window at the changing street beside you.

Conrad turns his head in your direction, “Because then they’d all want to come.”

You nod in agreement and fall silent, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“So, has anyone said anything about…”

“What? Me and you?” You finish the sentence for him, “Why? Do you think they know?”

Conrad smirks a little, “Jere told me that sometimes you talk in your sleep and he can hear you through his wall.”

You frown just slightly, cogs turning in the expectation of what he was about to say.

“Apparently he heard you call my name,” Conrad fully grins then, turning the car into another corner as he approaches the store.

You feel your face heat up more than the sun was capable of, your heart sinking a little, “I did… I mean he heard… what?”

Conrad chuckles gently and his hand moves from the wheel to squeeze your leg, “Oh come on, (y/l/n), I already knew you were obsessed with me.”

You clench your jaw and look away from him, the embarrassment seeping through you. He squeezes your bare leg again and keeps his hand there as he pulls into a space in the parking lot.

“Okay I’ll get a cart and I’ll meet you at the checkout,” You nod, taking a deep breath to relatively compose yourself as you get out of the car.

Conrad follows behind you, fighting back the smile on his face. He walks up behind you as you go to get a cart, his arms dropping to either side of your hands on the handle, thumbs brushing your pinky fingers.

“See, Ive just got so many questions,” He mumbles the words into your ear as his chin drops to your shoulder.

You feel a tingle go over your spine and quickly step out from underneath his arm, “And I won’t be answering them.”

Conrad persists, of course, pushing the cart into the store and following your every move.

You both take a silent sigh of relief at the feeling of the air con in the store, walking a little slower as if to revel in it for as long as possible.

“Okay, so what was this dream about?” Conrad asks, stopping the cart as you throw in a few items from the produce section.

You make brief eye contact with him in the coldest glare you can muster, “Con, I said we’re not talking about this.”

“I mean, it must’ve been pretty good for you to be calling my name,” He points out nonchalantly, throwing a few bags into the cart, “So, tell me what it was about?”

You spin on your heel and grip the end of the cart, squeezing down on the plastic as you look at him, “Conrad, I don’t remember, okay? Now can we please drop this because you’re being an asshole.”

He raises his hands as if in a gesture of surrender before placing them back on the cart and following you still in your slow steps around the aisles.

Conrad didn’t need to know to boost his ego, or to use it against you. He needed to know because the thought of you thinking of him like that made him feel like a kid with his first crush. He was infatuated, and his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Things were awkward between the two of you now, and neither was willing to break the tension with any form of conversation.

You were embarrassed, of course you were. The chemistry between the pair of you had been sky high since you’d arrived back in Cousins - all of the awaited feelings of seeing each other again had come bubbling to the surface. And yet neither of you could do anything about it. So there it stayed - bubbling wildly on a surface that would not release. Of course you were thinking about him, how could you not be?

“Okay, you get the ice and pay for this, I’ll meet you at the car,” You nod, holding your shoulders a little more sure of themselves.

“Oh, so I’m paying?” Conrad raises his brows, stopping in his tracks with a bag of ice in his hands.

“Your daddy’s credit card will,” You taunt in response, disappearing around the corner of another aisle to leave him to his own devices.

Minutes later, Conrad appears through the sliding doors of the store, the fully loaded cart bumping in the parking lot in front of him. You’re stood by the car, waiting for him, two large drink cups in your hands.

“And what’s this?” He nods his head a little towards the drinks, eyes returning back to yours.

“A peace offering,” You shrug your shoulders, “I’m sorry I got annoyed about you asking about… I just, I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to think I was some weird stalker that was obsessed with you or something.”

Conrad laughs gently, the kind of laugh that always manages to ease your worry. He steps out from around the cart so that he’s mere inches from you.

“You know,” He lowers his torso down to take a slow sip from the drink, darkened eyes staring up at you as he does, “If you wanted to be screaming my name in the night, you should’ve just asked.”

Your mouth falls agape slightly as all words seem to escape you.

“Come on, I’ll load this up before the ice cream starts melting,” He clears his throat, as if nothing had happened, “Get in the car.”

You oblige and sit in the passenger seat waiting for him as he piles the bags into the trunk, climbing into the driver’s seat shortly after.

He reaches over to take his cup from your hand and his fingers brush yours - still electric as you repeat over the words he’d just said.

“So, home?”

You hum in agreement and keep your eyes focused on the road ahead of you as he reverses out of the spot, unable to hide the smile tearing at your face.

———

“We’re back!” Conrad calls out as the two of you head inside, arms full of brown paper bags.

“Thank god!” Jere exclaims, grabbing a couple of the bags from you to alleviate the weight, “Successful trip?”

You and Conrad exchange a quiet glance before looking back and both saying at the same time, “Yeah.”

Jeremiah frowns at you and his brother, “You two are weird.”

He helps to unpack the shopping before turning back to both of you.

“Hey, Con, did you ask (y/n) about her dre-“

“Grow up Jere,” Conrad snaps quickly, throwing the last bag of ice into the freezer.

You look at him and smile a little to yourself, averting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes at his brother and disappears out of the kitchen, leaving just the two of you once more.

“Here, they’ve not melted yet,” Conrad pulls an ice pop from one of the boxes and unwraps it, handing it to you.

You set down your drink and take hold of the wooden stick. Now was your chance to get him back. You make sure you’re stood as close as you can get to him, your eyes gazing upwards to focus on his. And you stick out your tongue, drawing it from the bottom to the top of the cold ice, not once breaking eye contact with Conrad as you pop the top in between your lips and suck gently before pulling away.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, and find yourself hiding back a grin at your obvious effect on him.

“What’s wrong Connie?” You ask him through batted eyelashes, “You look all… flustered.”

It’s almost as if you see the second that the cogs turn in his brain as his hands stretch out to grip your waist, both tightening to lift you up and onto the kitchen counter behind you.

And then, without a second thought, his hand grips your face and he pulls you in to kiss him. It’s rushed at first and overly fueled by passion but you don’t care. He can taste the sweetness on your lips and it only seems to encourage him more, kissing you like he’d been waiting to do so for years. His hand tightens once more on your waist, pulling you into him as closely as he can as your hands grip onto his shoulders.

Conrad pulls away then, only breaking contact at your lips to catch his breath as his forehead rests against yours.

“Don’t tease me,” He grumbles quietly, his lips plump in the absence of you.

You chuckle a little, nudging his head a little more, “From what just happened there, maybe I should be teasing you more often.”

Conrad smirks and pulls away, standing up straight as both of his hands settle on either side of you on the counter. He glances behind you at where the large glass doors lead out to the garden, “You know, nobody’s actually in the house.”

You turn over your shoulder to catch a glimpse, “Yeah, looks like it’s just us.”

He takes the opportunity as you’re turned away to kiss at the exposed skin of your neck, his touch hotter than any weather was capable of.

You let out a quiet moan and grip the back of his head. Damn, he was good at this.

“Connie-“ You hum, pushing into him as closely as you can.

He smirks against you and pulls away, eyes widening slightly at the mark left on your skin from his lips.

“We should probably join the rest,” You comment, dragging your fingers through his hair.

He flutters his eyes closed at the contact and sighs, “Five more minutes.”

Conrad leans in to kiss you again but stops as he hears;

“Conrad! Can you bring the ice pops out?” It’s Stephen yelling to the pair of you.

You look at Conrad and laugh a little, hopping down from the countertop, “Come on, before they suspect anything.”

“I think that mark on your neck will make them suspect enough.”

You bend down to take the ice pop box from the freezer and reach one hand behind your head to untie your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders.

“There we go, it’s like it never happened,” You wiggle your eyebrows and saunter outside towards the garden.

Conrad watches as you go, a smile on his face before his eyes drop to the barely-touched ice pop you’d both discarded onto the counter.

Thank god for hot weather.

[evilminji]

God you know what would be FUNNY af? More "I already YOLO'd, fuckers. I see no God here but me an my new buddy The Force" SI-OC?

There's... there is the Fuckin FORCE NEXUS. Just? RIGHT THERE? Reality HAS to get unimaginably FUCKY and melty at the seams, around it? Horrific for people would HAVENT been through the Souls Car Wash as it were... but, like?

Eh. Tingly.

Feels a bit like being dead. She can taste the abstract concept of philosophical debate and the first strands of dawn. Air smells a bit purple. This is fiiiine. She and the Force are HANGING! You LITERALLY could not be closer to it outside of shrugging off your meat suit!

Aaaaay, BESTIE! She brought better meditation cushions and a swiffer. It is DUSTY down here! So~ how things? Any dead people wanna chat? Wanna watch a sunrise on a planet that stopped existing eons ago, literal galaxies away? Oh hey! Thanks for the space rock. It blurbles ominously.

Just? Yes. TECHNICALLY. "All things are possible in the Force".

But just because a NUCLEAR REACTION IS POSSIBLE? Doesn't mean it's a great idea to SIT NEXT TO IT. Child! P-Please! Back away from the thing we LITERALLY BUILT A TEMPLE TO CONTAIN.

ALL absolutes are harmful.

Yes. Even "good", even "helpful", even the "light". They as JEDI know this. Unlike SITH, they? Are not so foolish as to believe ANYONE can channel or harness a NEXUS. Absolute GOOD will kill you just as surely as Absolute evil. Do not loose yourself. And for the love of all that's precious?

Don't! Poke! Force! Anomalies!!!

Again... meh. What's the worst that'll happen? She DIES? Is LOST? Oh noooo. Not RETURNING to the Force! AGAIN! Peacefully avoiding the horrors to come! That would be AWFUL! *continues to gossip with the nexus*

Of course, this? This is fucking horrifying.

That is a youngling! Next to the ACTIVE FORCE NUKE.

Dear FUCK every moment the child sits there? It could be SCRAMBLING HER DNA for FUNSIES! But it ALSO feels like hundreds of jet engines in their head! T-they can't?! Get close enough? To grab her? Hold ON small breakable child! Help is COMING!

SOME ONE GET THE COUNCIL. NOW.

No we DO NOT care what they were doing! Baby! IN DANGER! This is clearly a priority! (And I mean? Shit... you right. They'll be there in 5)

Force maybe be "clouded"? But a cloud, dense enough? Is just a body of water suspended. And the NEXUS? Is like SWIMMING. A flood. The Force COULD NOT be clearer there. It's deafening, consuming, one might even say... less then subtle.

Yoda probably does the OPPOSITE of something helpful and just... plops on down next to her. Accepts the offered snack she holds out. Asks casually why she down here. Just two bros, a Grandmaster and Crecheling, two completely equal Jedi in the eyes of the Force, sitting watching the Pretty Colors at the edge of a reverse Black Hole.

Master Yoda, NO!

What? Did they expect him to use force? By the ear, drag this youngling, perhaps? Hmmm? How would that fix anything. The child would simply return. Stopping her ONCE will not address your concerns. There must be a dialog. You must be heard. Your fears laid to rest. The youngling must UNDERSTAND. Teachable moment!

The various knights, masters, CRECHE MASTERS and Council members? Do? NOT AGREE. Ha ha. Oh Force. Baby in a radioactive, currently inactive, meat grinder! Heart palpitations! Can't EVEN RELEASE THEIR FEAR INTO THE FORCE! Because it'll JUST SPIT RIGHT BACK INTO THEIR FACE.

.....OC would like these people to stop crashing her hangout. But is refusing to STOP her hang out, now, mostly out of spite. Well... that, AND? It's actually pretty great that most of the Order? Is getting LITERALLY FORCE BASTED CLEAN?

Like getting your soul pressure washed.

BEGONE Darksider gunk!

Does it leave you feeling a lil woozy and hyper-aware? Overly sensitive? Headache-y like a motherfucker? Yeah. But that's the crude matter, my gender non specific dudes. The Nexus has always been more of a "oh shit! We're losing um! CLEAR!" Sort of measure, then a "you should take this rigorous round of medicine and then meditate" Sort of measure.

Not that it's WISE. It's just as likely to eat folks. Just... straight skip the suffering their redemption arch might cause others and? Yoink! Straight back to the Force with you. After all? Other people are not here for YOUR life lessons. Their pain is not a gift to YOU. A debt YOU are owed.

Speaking of? Someone should check on Skywalker. He's looking a little shaken back there. (The Void was BRIGHT and it looked BACK. He is... NOT OKAY) (but also? Feels cleaner? Lighter? He thinks he just met his Dad. Spoke to his Mom.)

Obviously? Hella grounded. UNBELIEVABLY grounded. The entire temple is down and out with the worse case of Force Strain anyone can REMEMBER. The senate will have to send someone else.

......what do you MEAN you have "no one else"? They distinctly remember there being other offices. They are a religious organization. Not nearly as large as they once were. You are THE GOVERMENT. When a planet, in need, requests assistance? Why are you handing it to an EXTERNAL RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATION?

Yes, OF COURSE we want to help! But unfortunately we literally CAN NOT right now! There was an INCIDENT! Are you telling us that this whole system was one cold away from COLLAPSE?! (Local eavesdropping reporters go :3c owo? Whats this? Paycheck~☆???)

And, yes. Yes it WAS. Centuries of Sith meddling and common greed. Cut the funds to line my pockets! The Jedi will handle it. They Jedi ALWAYS handle it. If they can't, we'll just blame them. They show up first. Sometimes are the only ones to show up. Are a face for people to latch on too. Someone recognizable to get angry at, in our hurt.

But.... suddenly? Not there! And they're telling us? The NEXT step? In their Very Worried For Us, Full Of Genuine Sympathy And Concern Way? Is the Goverment. Specific offices. Makes sense. They even try to help, while looking like death warmed over. No, no! We get you can't come. Go rest! People need you!

No, they keep insisting. I can HELP! Please let me help! You're suffering. This isn't RIGHT. You don't deserve this! Are you safe? Is your family okay? I can talk to some people I know... maybe?

Then you turn around? And get automated rejection after rejection from the GOVERMENT YOU SERVE. Pay your taxes too. Bleed for. As your people are DYING. Afraid. Begging for help, that? APPARENTLY the senate is too busy throwing GALAS to send!

The Jedi is actually crying on the other line. Arguing with a healer off screen that they don't faint THAT much! They can take a pilot droid! Your people NEED HELP! Please! They have to do SOMETHING! They can't just SIT THERE! Please don't make them sit there!

The healer is telling them if they don't bring their heart rate down, they may pass out again. Breathe. Give them the comm.

You watch the Jedi literally fight to keep it. Lose, too dizzy to win.

The healer looks sympathetic but resolute. Your people's doctors are much the same. Your SISTER-IN-LAW much the same. You ask that he not be allowed to contact you until he is well. You are not incompetent, after all. Your people will survive.

The Force is with you... but the Senate is not.

This? You will REMEMBER.

Discontent grows. But NOT, as Palpatine was trying to cultivate it, towards the Jedi. They? Are in crisis. Still holding strong, yes, but clearly DEALING with something. Some... weird... mystic cult illness. It's literally BAD enough that "Force Sensitive" (you know, the kinda creepy weirdos?) cultures and peoples are offering to send various doctor equivalents!

And the Jedi! The JEDI!!!? Infamously "oh, it's only a gushing flesh wound, I'm fiiiine!" Weirdo Space Monks? Yeah, they're saying YES. Please DO, actually. Admitting to NEEDING HELP.

...........guys?

A-Are the Jedi DYING? D:>

Suddenly everyone's remembering all those times? Jedi helped THEIR planet. Possibly DIED for them. Statistically? Over the centuries? There is not a SINGLE ONE of them that hasn't needed help at LEAST once. Gotten SOME Jedi's help. Maybe it was centuries back. Maybe decades. Possibly last year. But? The Holonet is FOREVER.

Videos still exsist. Voices long dead. Wry jokes and hoisting younglings up on their shoulders. Attentively listening to elders as they talk about their youth. Protection and respect. A face not so different from their own. Laughter and light, preserved forever.

The Jedi are in family holos.

Here, with grandma. See? He saved her from slavers! And there. Sitting with the family after The Great Collapse. Over here, rocking great-uncle Nox as a baby! On and on. Flooding the net. Private collections no one thought were relevant until now. It's not like anyone ASKED. It was JUST a FAMILY story.

Those little acts of kindness. Those humanizing bits of light. Jedi, throughout our history. Everywhere. Absolutely everwhere... until they weren't.

Until... slowly... they started to fade.

People, making timeliness, making collections? Notice. Huh. Look at that decline. Is that just them? Are they seeing things? Guys! Tell me what you see....

All while OC? Is sitting by the Nexus. Breathing in some NICE tea steam, in her comfy lil meditation nook, smacking the FUCK out of Palpatine's grasping lil claws as it reaches for the Nexus. BEGONE you malicious THOT! This is a benevolent thot only space! That's why Master's Vox and Kenobi can stay. (Ha!/CHILD!?!)

OC works as a legit filter.

The Nexus? Spews, by its nature, the Force in CONCENTRATED amounts, out into the universe. Like a high pressure water spout. Feeding into a lake. There are drains. People use it, move it, muddy the waters. But the NEXUS? Is where the unfiltered stuff comes back through, after it's been recycled.

Part of the endless loop. There are, of course, many Nexus. The Universe is large. One Nexus alone would never be able to cover it all. But Coruscant? The surrounding area? That's THIS Nexus. And Palpatine wants it BAD.

Because EVERYONE is part of the Force. Sensitive or not. ALL LIVING THINGS have midi-chlorians. They're just generally drawn to sentience. Are the universe in symbiosis with itself. Being near a Nexus tend to make them vibrate. Start to multiple. Not great for the body they're IN. Fascinating though.

......wait, where was she.... >.> oh! Right!

Whole ecumenopolis? Already has a LOT of suffering. Lot of stagnant pools of Darksider rot. The senate isn't helping. But? The Nexus IS helping. By blasting clean, fresh, hope and NEW! Through the heart of it all. Anyone who wanders close enough to the Temple? Gets cleaned off.

Feels hope. Sees a brighter future worth fighting for. Gets that much needed nudge from the Force, towards a better path.

Obviously, Palpatine hates that. Wants to flip it. To bad decisions and hopelessness. Bow your head and know your place. Well? FUCK 'IM. She's the guard of the Nexus. SHE'S sitting right in from of it! He may have fucked up rituals? But SHE can literally reach her arm out, INTO IT, and drag the darkness free.

Talk to Master's through time. The Force directly. Be a concept and a bird, right angles and starlight, here and then and The Force.

What are YOU, Sheev Palpatine? But a miserably hateful little creature.

A vile, angry little man.

The Jedi? Have probably already adjusted by now. Master Fae, Master Antilles, Youngling OC. Yeah... it be like that sometimes. You get Weird Jedi every so often. Just look at Yoda and Yaddle. The various wandering Jedi. That one guy they're preeeeeety sure? Might just be? Meditating out in a swamp somewhere? He might be dead. No one's sure. Still a jedi, though!

Look, you get like... 99 put of 100 vaguely normal Jedi to one Weird one, and 1 REALLY weird one out every... no one can actually agree? Inconclusive. Have a fruit bun. Nod and smile. The Force works in mysterious ways....

And SPEAKING of "we are a wrecking ball in a rice paper world" Master Fae/Antilles duo? Very sensitive to the Force. Go where it sends them. Did.... NOT expect to get a holocall? By means of FORCE NEXUS?? From an ACTUAL YOUNGLING?

.....ngl. this one's new.

Kamino it is.

(OC wants to make Palpatine CRY. Fight me, you FUCK, says the actual child. No one knows why this Jedi child hates the Naboolian senator specifically, but it... is REALLY effecting his Affable Grandfatherly Vibes.)

(Fucking GOOD.)

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes there's some good news and some bad news. The good news is he's deeply in love with his wife who likes to be adventurous in the bedroom. And the bad news from the mechanic? He'd actually rather not mention that to you.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, anal play, anal sex, fluff, mentions of mission details

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"Bradley! What did you do?!"

Your shitty little car's center console was loose, propped up by Bradley's booted foot like it was on a hinge. If he moved his foot up, the whole thing went with it. "I didn't do anything," he replied, removing his foot and letting the large piece of your car interior settle back down like he was completely innocent here. 

You reached up from his lap and moved the console with your hands, and you gasped at the result. "You destroyed it!" Then you lifted it up higher and turned back to him with flashing eyes. "I can see the ground through the gigantic hole in my car!"

He winced. If you were upset when your car ended up in the shop last year while he was using it, you'd almost certainly be even more pissed off because of this. "I'll take it to my mechanic on Monday. He fixed it for you last time."

You nodded with some uncertainty, but you wrapped him up in your arms and kissed him. "Yeah... he fixed it last time. I'm just happy you're home. I made Marry Me Rooster and birthday cake for you." Bradley was practically panting at the feel of your fingers pushing back through his hair again. "And we can relax all day tomorrow." 

For the first time in a week, he felt calm and sated. The adrenaline rush had finally worn off a bit, and right now he was exhausted. It was nearly midnight. His birthday was almost over. But if you wanted him to eat dinner and have cake with you at one in the morning, he would. 

"Let's go home," he whispered. With one more kiss, you opened the back door and climbed off of his lap. When Bradley went to follow suit, he hit his head on the door frame and nearly landed on his face. "Fuck," he grunted, rubbing the top of his head. Great. Your car was poised and ready for revenge. He was going to offer to drive just in case there was something truly wrong with the thing, but he was a little afraid. He asked anyway. "You want me to drive?"

You just gave him a look. "I think you've done enough, Roo. And even though I love you, my car does not."

"That's fair." He kissed your forehead and yawned as he walked around to the passenger side. The engine started up for you without any issue, but it took you and him both pulling on the shifter to get it into reverse. And then your car made a horrible loud noise as you backed out of the parking spot. 

Bradley had a very bad feeling about this.

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

It took you twice as long to get home as it should have. Your car sounded like it was begging for mercy every time you so much as tapped the gas pedal. It was a strage, loud whirring sound, and Bradley was looking at you with big, innocent baby cow eyes. 

There was a gap between the center console and the floor of your car, and you wondered how on earth he managed to push on it hard enough to rip it clean off like that. It was almost comical. You husband was huge, and he'd apparently put all of his size into fucking you just right. 

You laughed as you pulled into the driveway next to the Bronco. "So you're not too mad?" he asked quietly as he helped you push the shifter again.

"I'm not mad," you promised. "Your mechanic can fix it next week. We'll just need to share the one car until then."

Bradley leaned in to kiss you and said, "I will take care of it, Sweetheart." 

Once you made it to the front door, his lips were all over your neck as you tried to unlock it. He was being sweet and soft now even though you were sure he could tell you were flustered with need again. Even the rough fabric of his duffel rubbing against your leg was almost too much. "I love you," he murmured against your earlobe as you finally pushed the door open. But you could tell he was tired, and you weren't the only one who was excited to see him. 

Tramp came bounding out onto the porch, whimpering and whining as Bradley knelt and got his face licked. "Yeah, I missed you, too," he told the dog as he carried him inside. "Did you have fun with mommy?" Tramp kept running to his leash and begging, but Bradley said, "I'm not taking you for a walk in the middle of the night. We can go tomorrow."

"Are you hungry?" you asked, feeling a little silly for getting yourself so excited to feed your husband when it was so late. But you made a huge batch of Marry Me Rooster, and of course he insisted he wanted his birthday meal. 

"I'm always hungry for this and for you," he said, pulling you onto his lap at the dining room table. He took a bite of chicken and grunted softly, and you leaned in to kiss along his cheekbone as he chewed. He had dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he was going to need to rest tomorrow.

"You want to tell me about your super secret special mission?" you asked him while he ate. He took a few more bites and set his fork down with a sigh before he answered. 

His voice was careful as he said, "I really can't say much, even to you."

Your eyebrows shot up and your hands shook a little as you played with his hair. "Was it successful?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, which took the chill out of your body. "We had to... aid in hostage retrieval."

"Oh my god," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his chest and snuggling against him. You knew better than to ask for any more details than that. If the stakes were that high, no wonder he came back a bit of a needy mess. You could just imagine him on the aircraft carrier after completing his flight, adrenaline thrumming through his body. You rubbed your hand along his side as he finished the rest of the food on his plate.

"Thanks for my birthday dinner."

You smiled at him. "I'm just happy you're home. Do you want to save the cake and your present for tomorrow?"

"Please." His voice was soft, and his eyes closed against the feel of your fingers. You led him to the bedroom, taking the time to dig his toothbrush out of his duffle so he could get ready for bed. His new notebook was in there as well, and you flipped through it to see that he'd filled about a third of it up with his writing. But you could save that for later. 

You pulled your dress over your head and tossed it in the hamper as Bradley walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom. "Ready for bed?" you asked, standing there completely naked. He just examined every inch of you, his eyes taking you in. It never really occurred to you to be self conscious around him, and when he brought his hand up to rub his cock through his boxer briefs, your lips parted on a soft sound. 

He slowly raised his left hand which was hanging at his side, and as soon as he pointed at the bed, you were in it. Bradley stepped out of his underwear and left them in the middle of the floor, his hand wrapped around his cock as he climbed right on top of you. "Yeah?" he rasped with a grin. You supposed even through his exhaustion, he still had a little left in the tank for you, and you couldn't help but smile up at him. 

"Yes." You spread your legs wide, and he buried himself inside you, uncaring that he'd filled you up barely two hours ago and left you a mess. He was doing it again, and he was doing it oh so well.  

"Missed you," he whispered, the snap of his hips making you moan. "Missed our bed and your body and your pretty face." You watched as he took his silicone ring off and tossed it aside while he fucked you. Then his lips dipped down to your breasts before they found his wedding band where it rested against the front of your neck on your chain. 

He fucked you until he came, kissing and licking the ring, bucking his cum deeper inside you with his eyes closed. You rolled him onto his back and sat up with him still buried deep. He was all soft smiles and comically boneless limbs beneath you as he stroked your thighs. "Can I have my ring?"

You reached for the clasp of your chain and slid it past your pretty charms. Then you secured your necklace once more before reaching for his left hand. You slipped it on his finger and kissed him there as he caressed your cheek. But his eyes were already closed, and he was sound asleep by the time you went to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

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

When Bradley opened his eyes, his stomach was growling so loudly, he thought that might have been what woke him up. He was so damn comfortable, finally back in his own bedroom. "Baby Girl?" he rasped, wanting to just go back to sleep, but needing you with him. 

Then he noticed the absolutely delicious smell coming from the kitchen and groaned. His stomach was growling so much, it hurt as he climbed out of bed and stretched. He found you a moment later cooking pancakes and bacon while sipping some coffee in his old UVA shirt. Tramp was on the floor begging his little heart out. When you saw Bradley you smiled, and he wrapped himself around you from behind, enveloping you in his arms. He could tell you were still fresh from your shower, and Bradley couldn't get enough.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered as he kissed along your neck. 

"Starving," he replied, stomach growling loudly. "And I missed you in bed."

You rubbed yourself back gently against his naked body as you said, "You can rest and eat all day today. We've got nothing planned. I thought I'd feed you breakfast and let you take a long shower and then a nap."

He sighed next to your ear, feeling completely relaxed. This was all he really needed right now. You and he had worked on every little detail of your marriage until you were on the same page about what was important. The successful completion of Operation Loophole had him feeling pretty good about going back to base tomorrow. But today, the only thing he wanted was you. 

You sat perched on his thigh as you finished your coffee while he ate. "What did I miss here while I was gone?"

"Just Jake almost fucking things up completely," you replied, biting into a piece of toast. "Oh, and I'm trying to get Bob to move in with Maria."

"The fuck?" he asked with a laugh. "As in, Bob would move into your old bedroom?"

"Yep."

"Sweetheart. Your old bedroom? We did some fucking  nasty stuff in there together."

You erupted into laughter. "He doesn't need to know that."

Bradley looked at you like you had two heads. "I'm sure he already does."

"Poor Bob." You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Do you want some birthday cake for dessert?"

"I get dessert after breakfast?" he asked, somehow perking up even more over this perfect homecoming.

"You get whatever you want for your thirty seventh birthday," you replied as you stood and headed for the kitchen, letting Bradley see a peek of your gorgeous ass beneath his shirt. And in that instant, it was the only thing he wanted. He groaned and let his head tip back. 

"Fuck." His heart was beating a little faster as he thought about tasting you there, touching you and fucking you there. You'd let him put his mouth anywhere he wanted last year on his birthday, and during your honeymoon, he'd enjoyed that particular part of your body again. But his cock was twitching, and now he was kind of mad you'd just proverbially offered up anything his horny heart desired. Because he was going to have to ask you for it. 

There was no way you didn't notice he was half hard when you walked back in holding a confetti cake with your other hand behind your back. "Oh. My favorite. Thanks." His voice was bland as you set it down in front of him before pulling a lemon cake from behind your back. 

"I was just messing with you with the confetti cake," you said with a laugh, bouncing back into the kitchen again. This time Bradley landed a little smack on your ass that left you giggling and looking at him over your shoulder in surprise. "I said the confetti cake was a joke, Roo," you told him with a wink.

This time when you came back, you had one single birthday candle and a lighter along with two forks. As you stuck the candle in the lemon cake and lit it, he asked, "Are you going to sing to me?"

"Of course," you whispered, kissing his cheek before settling on his thigh, your hip grazing his cock. Then you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck, licking and kissing along his scars as you sang to him like you were Marilyn Monroe and he was JFK. You were giggling and enjoying yourself, and it shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but Bradley hoisted you up to straddle both of his legs as you finished singing.

You gave him a little squeak as you settled against his cock, and he got his mouth on yours right away. He ran his hand up under your shirt to where your Rooster tattoo was and caressed you there, but he was cupping your ass with his other hand. "Roo," you moaned into his mouth as he teased both of your holes. "You're still all keyed up, Daddy?"

"A little," he told you, surprised to find that he was again. He blew out his birthday candle which had burned almost all the way down, while he kept his fingers on you. 

"You want your cake or your present?" you asked softly. 

"Aren't you my present?" 

You smirked. "I got you something else, too."

"I want it."

When you climbed off his lap, Bradley reached for you, but you were already walking toward the bedroom. "Take a shower, Roo. I'll get it ready for you."

So Bradley stood under the stream of water, first cold and then hot. He was afraid to touch himself too much, because he really needed you. And his curiosity was piqued. What did you get for him? And why did you need to get it ready? 

Oh. He had asked you for another calendar. Another sexy pinup calendar featuring you, you and you. "Shit," he grunted, running his hands through his hair to make sure all the conditioner was out before turning off the water. He barely dried himself off before charging back into the bedroom. He was about to call for you when you popped up behind him and put your hands over his eyes. 

"Close them," you commanded. "And no peeking."  

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, going slightly crazy at your touch. You let go of his face, and he kept his eyes closed as you guided him by his shoulders until he was pretty sure he was standing in the bedroom doorway looking out into the hallway. Then you placed something in his hands.

He heard you cackle as you let go of him and said, "Okay, you can open your eyes and unwrap your gift, but don't turn around. 

Bradley had the pretty red and yellow wrapping paper off in a flash, and it fell near his feet as he moaned. He read the cover out loud. "The Bronco and Baby Girl." Oh fuck. He'd never make it through this thing. 

"Okay, now open it to January," you called out from behind him. He did, and it was a photo of you laying on the hood of the Bronco in the red bikini from the honeymoon. "Do you like it?"

"I fucking love it," he promised, his eyes roaming the high quality photograph. You looked like a real model, there was no doubt about that. "It's stunning."

You laughed and said, "Now look at February." He flipped the page and moaned at the sight of you sitting in the driver's seat wearing your skimpy red lingerie. "Now tell me which month you like better."

He flipped back and forth between the two before ultimately saying, "February. And it's a fucking shame it doesn't have thirty one days, honestly."

Your laughter filled the room and made him smile as he looked at March. You were wearing his aviators and little else. "You still like February?"

"Shit. I might like March the best now."

"How about April?" you asked, and Bradley was having a lot of fun with this game. 

"Oh, that's nice," he remarked at the photo of you bent over his tailgate. He was currently having an existential crisis over your ass, and this wasn't helping. 

"Why don't you keep going until you get to your favorite one, and then you can turn around."

"Alright," Bradley said, clearing his throat as he turned to May, which was one of you wearing the little dress you had on when you picked him up last night. You were laying on the backseat, and your tits looked like they were going to come free from the fabric. 

But when he turned to June, you were topless. You were sitting in the back on the tailgate with your hands tucked behind your head wearing nothing but the shortest denim cutoffs he'd ever seen. You were facing the side with your upper body turned toward the camera. Your back was arched, your tits were jutting out, and your nipples were hard. The photo also somehow captured the perfect shape of your ass, and it was quite possibly the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. 

"June," he announced. "It's June, Baby Girl. It's my favorite one." And when he turned around, you were on the bed posed exactly like you were in the calendar, but you were smirking. Because you knew him. You knew he'd stop on June. You knew he'd fucking short circuit over that particular one. And now it was right in front of him in real life. 

He tossed his calendar carefully onto the dresser as he inched forward, looking at you in those denim shorts at every angle as you bit your lip. "I knew you'd pick June," you whispered, and he leaned in to kiss your shoulder. Then he ran his palm down along your spine until his hand was on your ass. 

"You know me so well," he rasped, climbing onto the bed with you. "Thanks for my calendar." He licked your right nipple before pulling your left one between his lips and sucking gently. You whined his name, and your hands were immediately in his hair. 

"You're welcome," you gasped your hips rolling as he cupped your pussy gently through your shorts. He worked the button open and unzipped them as he kissed his way up to your neck, and you asked him, "Any special requests, birthday boy?"

But you knew. Somehow you fucking knew. You got on your hands and knees facing the headboard and wiggled your ass at him until he pulled your shorts down and helped you out of them. And then that was it. You were bare for him. He ran his hands up your soft thighs and up along your butt. He kissed you all over before he got on his knees and leaned his body over yours until his lips were right next to your ear.

"I do have a request."

He felt you shiver as he bucked involuntarily against your core. "Tell me." 

You turned your head to look at him. His voice was a harsh whisper. "I want your ass, Baby Girl."

You moaned and rolled your hips back against him, nearly sending him through the roof. "What do you want to do?"

He kissed your cheek and tried to take a deep breath. "I want to do anything that you want to do. And if you don't want to do anything, then that's fine, too." He was panting as he kissed along your shoulder and your back, unable to stop himself from pressing against you over and over.

"Do you want to fuck me in the ass, Roo?" you asked so sweetly, he thought he was going to black out. "Because if so, you need to get the lube from the nightstand. And you need to go very slow. And you need to stop if I tell you it hurts."

"Holy fucking hell," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and caressing your tits and your belly. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He practically fell off the bed in his excitement. Other than using your toys, you and he had never done this together or separately, but he was ready to go. You didn't even look hesitant as you folded your arms on the pillow and let your head come to rest as you spread your legs a little wider. "It's like your birthday tradition now," you said with a little laugh as he dug around for the lube. 

"Wonder what you'll let me have next year," he asked, kissing your lips before climbing back on the bed with the small tube. He needed to calm down, so he angled himself to get at your pussy with his mouth from behind. Within seconds, he had you gasping for him, and his mustache was soaking wet. He licked you up and down, swirling his tongue around one hole before slowly dragging it to the other. Your hips were held firmly in his hands as you rolled back against him for more pressure, crying out when you let you have it only on his terms. 

"Bradley!" you whined. 

"Shh," he whispered, licking along your pussy with a grin. "On your birthday, you can have whatever you want."

You were going to be tight. Even as he painted you up with your own wetness, and worked the tip of his thumb into your asshole, watching the stretch with fascination as you groaned his name, he could tell. He grunted as he flipped open the lube and coated his cock with it, never taking his lips off you.

"I'm so close," you moaned, pressing yourself back against his mouth as he played with your clit. And when you eventually came for him, he brought his slick hand up and worked his thumb a little deeper this time. 

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, kissing your lower back and pausing. 

"No. Keep going."

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

It took Bradley a while even though you were relaxed from your orgasm. It didn't hurt, but you needed him to go slow so you could be sure of this new sensation. First his thumb. Then his cock. 

"Oh my god," you whined, your eyes squeezed shut at just how full you were. You could feel the cool drizzle of lube hitting your body before your husband's hands returned to your hips in the gentlest caress. The stretch was almost too much as he moaned and whispered your name behind you over and over again. "Go slow," you reminded him when his thrusts started coming faster, and he took care of everything you needed.

Bradley's words were becoming unintelligible. He said something about his birthday before he told you he loved you. The soft glide from the extra lubrication was aided as you flattened your back out, and then Bradley gasped, "It feels so good. Too fucking good."

When he pushed a little deeper, you grunted, ready to tell him that was far enough. But you didn't need to worry. You could feel him slowly easing back out of you until that foreign feeling of being filled to the brim eased up and then vanished. Bradley yanked your body up so you were standing on your knees in front of him. His sweaty forehead came to rest on your shoulder as he panted and vigorously jerked off, his hand working along his cock between your body and his. 

"Sweetheart," he moaned as he coated up your back and butt with his cum. "Fuck. Fuck!" He felt him run his hand through the sticky mess before he wrapped his big arms around to the front of you.

"Did you like that?"

He took a few deep breaths before his lips and mustache were tickling your ear. "I love everything we do together. I love you."

You felt warm all over from his words and his body, and he held you tight for a long time just like that as he caught his breath. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, slipping off the bed and pulling you carefully with him. You didn't feel sore, exactly. You were just more aware of everything as you moved slowly. 

"No," you promised, shaking your head at him. He helped you pull on his UVA shirt before he carried you back to the kitchen. "I'm just a little tired. You wear me out more than my toys do."

He laughed as he set you down and took the leftover Marry Me Rooster out of the refrigerator. "I feel like your butt is for special occasions?"

Now you were laughing. "Like your birthday?" 

"Yeah. Like my birthday. Now let's eat together and have my cake and take a bath. Then maybe you can replicate the rest of the calendar photo poses for me to see in person?"

"Oh. You really liked that."

"I really liked that."

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

Bradley held you against his chest in the bathtub. It was late now, and the bathroom was lit by one single candle in the darkness as he sang to you. He was relaxed, soothed by the feel of your hand on his thigh, and when you turned and smiled up at him, he kissed you. 

"Don't forget, my parents are coming in a few days."

He'd already forgotten. The special mission and then coming home to you had clouded his brain and made him a little shortsighted, but not in a bad way. He loved your parents. "Right," he said with a nod. "Sounds good."

"And we'll have to leave earlier tomorrow morning so you can follow me to the mechanic."

He'd forgotten about that, too. Fuck. Your car was your favorite possession. Bradley truly did not understand the appeal, but you'd had the stupid thing forever. "Sure," he grunted, already nervous again. You nuzzled his cheek and then stood in front of him, and he leaned in to kiss along your ass while you giggled. 

Today had been perfect. Last night, too. Other than breaking your car, Bradley was just happy to be home. It didn't really matter to him that you'd given him a little birthday celebration and agreed to try something new in bed, being with you was the most important thing. You and he had spent a lot of time apart over the past year and a half, and he was hoping that the successful mission might help shape the trajectory of his career to make things a little easier in that regard. Especially if you did get pregnant on your own, or if a conversation about alternative options took place in the future.

Bradley eventually fell asleep with you draped across his chest. He read to you from his new notebook, but he skipped the pages about his dream where you were pregnant. It felt like too much for tonight. He turned the light off, and your hand found his tattoo like it was a magnet for you. Even though he was exhausted, his mind was swirling as he tried to fall asleep. 

Monday morning was a rush to get out of the house on time, and when you started your little piece of shit car on the driveway, it made such a distressing sound, Bradley almost insisted you get it towed instead. But you backed it out onto the road, and he followed you to his mechanic. 

"I'm scared," you told him when you dropped the keys off at the front desk. "It sounds really sick this time." He had to kiss away the crease along your brow.

"Let's just play it by ear," he told you, taking your hand and leading you back to the Bronco. He patted your ass in your uniform pants as you climbed in, and he buckled your seatbelt. "How are you feeling today anyway?" he asked with a smirk that you kissed off his face. 

"If you're referring to my butt, I'm a little sore," you told him, running your fingers along his scars. "But I'll be interested in the next special occasion." He climbed in with you and gave you sloppy kisses as you laughed. "Roo! We'll be late for work. I have a meeting with Bickel at nine."

"Aww, you can be late. Just tell him we were talking about your ass."

"Bradley," you snorted. "I will not."

He kissed you one more time before climbing off of you and closing the door. The drive to base was short, and you held his hand the whole way. He had to keep turning the radio volume up as you sang along badly, but you just kept getting louder with it. 

"You're a nightmare," he informed you when he parked and killed the engine. "And god, I fucking love you so much." The way you kissed him made him want to put the key back in the ignition and drive you home to bed. Your hand was just about on his cock in his khakis when you pulled away. 

"Gotta run!" He watched you stroll off toward the side entrance, waving at him coyly over your shoulder as he adjusted himself and headed for the locker room. 

Bradley's day was going great. He was happy to see Nat, and he was looking forward to having lunch with you if you could get away from your lab. But when he checked his phone around noon as he walked to the cafeteria, he had a new voicemail from the mechanic. He could see you in line for your burrito bowl as you chatted with Bob. He could practically hear you laughing as he played the message and cringed.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, give me a call back. The car is totaled."

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

Oop. I can see the tears flowing already. Fix this, Bradley. Parents are visiting soon. So many things are happening soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 24

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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[hmhas-00]

Ch.1

Hit Me Hard & Soft

word count - 1.7k words

A/N - Hi lovelies! I can’t wait for you to fall in love with Remy and Billie, and their ✨friendship✨

Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow! Starting next week, my posting schedule will be Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Please like and reblog! It means a lot! 🫶🏻

Remy's POV

My hand shot back as the hot, white-coated metal of the car door burned my fingertips.

“Motherfu-“ Immediately, my watery eyes landed on the yellow paper folded under the windshield wipers.

“You have to be kidding me right now.” Unfolding it, the paper revealed a dreaded parking ticket. Crumpling the paper into my back pocket, I swung open the door. Plopping onto the hot leather seat and ignoring the 3rd degree burns going into the backs of my thighs, my phone slid into the crack between the center console. As if on purpose, my phone began to ring nonstop. A huge sigh escaped my lips, while I started the engine to at least get some A/C. When the bluetooth connected to the car, I answered the call using the hands-free feature. Thank the gods for technology.

“Hey, Bills- Right now is not a-“ I groaned, fighting for my life to rescue my phone from the french fry abyss that it had fallen in.

“Remy! Where are you?” Billie exaggerated in a playful, but very loud voice. Maybe it was the stereo volume, though…

“I’m sorta in the middle of- HA! Got it!” I shrieked, putting the phone in the cupholder.

Billie whined, “I thought you were coming tonight. I don’t want to go alone! I’ve been really nervous and-“

Immediately, I realized I had promised my best friend I’d go the live recording of The Late Show With Steven Colbert. Mouthing expletives I yanked the stupid seatbelt, attempting to secure it multiple times.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m so sorry! I didn’t exactly forget. It’s just- I’ve had the shittiest day. I was humiliated at work today, got a parking ticket-“

“Oh, shit. Remy, hey- No, I’m sorry! Fuck, start from the beginning, what happened?” Billie worried, putting her disappointment aside. “Please, don’t worry about tonight, I’ll come over right after and we can talk more if you want?”

I hurried out of the parking space, not bothering to look before putting the car in reverse. “No, no! I’ll be on the way right now. It’s fine, it’s just been a crazy day. A lot at once. I’m on the way though!”

“You sure?” Billie cooed. “Are you sure you’re okay to be driving right now?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m good.” Tears brimmed my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but instead frustration. Everything that could possibly go wrong was going wrong, and had been for at least a week. Still, I felt awful for forgetting about our plans. She’d been talking about how nervous she is about her first live performance since her new album, HMHAS, came out on Friday.

“Okay… Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had such a hard day today. Tell me everything.” She comforted me, always knowing what to say and how to say it.

I began to tell her all about my stressful day at work, and how my boss crossed several professional boundaries.

Earlier that day I presented my ideas to the potential new column writers for our magazine, while my chauvinist pig of a boss dismissed my efforts, and mansplained almost every point I made. After the board meeting I made the mistake of interrupting his debriefing with the rest of the team in his office and told him that I’d really like another chance to speak to the writers. “You were there because I allowed it. If you’d like another chance with those guys, consider wearing something worth their while.” He sneered and waved me out of his office. It brought me back to earth, making it evident that I am nothing but a secretary. As I opened the door to leave, he told me to go home for the day. I didn’t know if this meant I was fired, or if he was just sick of seeing my face. Regardless, it made me want to crawl into a hole and never go back.

“You realize he basically implied that unless you show some cleavage, no one will listen to you, right?” Billie protested, appalled at my story of the day. She had listened to countless rants about my job, never understanding why I stick around.

The truth is, this was my in! This is the environment I had studied so hard to be around and paid thousands of dollars for. Well, not quite. But it was my in. I believed I could make it through and work my way up to the top of the chain, hopefully enough to fire the assholes that run the magazine. Or at least be an editor.

“Anyway, so then I went out to my car and found the ticket after burning my hands, then burned my legs, then my phone fell under my seat, and here we are. Now, I’m going to drive off the PCH, if you don’t mind.”

“Not before I see you today. I’ll make it better…” she promised, knowing she always did. “…I’m not gonna say it.”

“Good”

“Quit already.”

“Billie…” I insisted.

“Okay, okay. Just saying. Don’t change. Keep being your bold self. Someone will appreciate it.”

“Thank you.”

“Someone at a different company because they don’t deserve you! They-“ she protested, starting her speech.

“Billie!” I whined. I honestly didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to forget. “I’m pulling up right now, I’ll see you inside okay?”

“This isn’t over!” She shouted into the phone, still amped up.

I hung up and rolled the window down, showing my ID to the guard at the front gate. He smiled at me and nodded as the beautiful golden gates began to open inward into the giant property. I drove my car down the long road to Billie’s house and parked my car where I usually did. Security led me in and I was greeted with the warmest hug on planet earth.

Billie wrapped her arms around me, radiating with tenderness and comfort, amidst her own anxiety for what was to come tonight. “Are you ready for tonight?” My voice muffled into her dark hair.

She smelled sweet and when we pulled away I took in her shining face and very minimal makeup. Basically, just aquafor on her lips, clear mascara and brow gel, and a bit of concealer and powder where she thought she needed it. Although, she really didn’t need any. She had glasses on, and her outfit for the show, which she had thrifted herself.

“Mm, noo.” She shook her head and spoke in her silly voice. She ticked a bit, tilting her head to the side a few times. She had been ticking a lot lately, at least for the last few weeks leading up to the album release, the big album listening events, and now the Late Show.

I rubbed her temples and smiled, while she closed her eyes trying to focus. “You’re gonna be incredible. I can’t wait to hear you.” Her left eyebrow twitched a bit, then stopped.

“Let me fix my makeup. Is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, walking towards the stairs.

“For me it is…but for your boss?” She joked, sorta.

“Billie!” I ran up the stairs, leaving her behind. “I’m raiding your closet!”

She followed and plopped on her bed, watching me walk through her giant bathroom, and into her giant walk-in closet.

I picked out something cute and put on a fashion show for her. She puckered her lips and raised her brows at me, showing her approval on the outfit. “You’re not supposed to look better than me at my own show, dude!” She shifted on the bed, placing one hand under her head, and fixing her baggy jeans.

“Shut up.” I laughed under my breath and plopped on the bed next to her. “Fuck, it’s been a day.”

She turned her head slightly to look at me. “You know I’m so proud of you, right? I want you to be happy. Whatever that means for you, I just want that.”

I nodded, knowing she just wants what’s best for me. We shared the same thought. “I love you.” I turned my body towards her, seeing her tick, rolling her eyes to the left a few times. “Enough about me. Tonight’s gonna be so fun, and you’re going to sound amazing, and then we can come back here and eat all the food.”

“Actually, I was gonna tell you, but your day was ruined by Danny Devito’s cousin.” Billie snorted. I smacked her tummy. “There’s this afterparty they’re throwing for Finneas and I, and I wanted you to come with me. But if you’re not in the mood, I’m totally down to just eat all the food with you here.”

“Nah, I’m down. It’ll be fun! I wanna forget about it all anyways.” I held out my fist and she bumped it with her hand.

“I’m not gonna drink at all so you can go crazy, go stupid.” She nodded.

“You never drink anyways.” I rolled my eyes.

Billie stared at me with her big, blues which were more of a gray hue at the moment. She seemed to have zoned out in thought. I slightly furrowed my brows and smiled at her. A few seconds later she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her phone ringing.

She put the phone to her ear. “Hey, whats up?”

I fidgeted with my top while she spoke on the phone, shaking the feeling that something was up. It might just be her nerves, but it also could be me overanalyzing and overthinking it. For weeks she’d been the most anxious and worried I had seen her in a while. This was the most vulnerable I ever heard her on an album, so I knew it was a relief when people adored it on release day. I worried about her a lot lately. Late nights, panic attacks, bad dreams, and lots of work planning out the upcoming tour… It wasn’t a shock knowing she barely slept.

“Everything okay?” I asked as she finished her call.

“They canceled today’s appearance for some reason, but they’ll probably reschedule it for next week. Now I get to be nervous longer.” She put a thumbs up in the air.

“It’s the universe. She wants us to sit here, watch movies, and eat all the food.” I sat up to change out of these clothes.

“Must be.” Billie hummed. She watched me take off my impromptu outfit, and threw some sweats and a shirt she had left on her bed from earlier. “I’ll order something.”

[regular-samdragon]

More tfa Reverse au sketches and rambles. Here's the first post for the initial info on all of this

I dont exactly have a plot idea for this au yet, just mostly silly interactions between the characters. I'm still a little lost on what to have the decepticons doing in this. I have some slight ideas though, just might change up some details later

It makes sense for the decepticons to also be humans in this au. The initial idea I had was that Megatron owned the corporation that paved the way for technological developments in the city. Of course, Megs isn't the scientific mastermind behind it all. He just happens to own the company. Starscream and Blitzwing act as the head scientists, and Barricade is head of security. Starscream is constantly trying to think up ways to take over the company himself while the others are content to keep working under Megs. After all, he doesn't restrict them on how ethical their experiments have to be.

Sumdac himself, I haven't quite decided on yet. The lot that Ratchet's and Prowl's establishments are located in definitely has more than one store, so one idea I had was for Sumdac to stay human and own an electronics repair shop. Perhaps he misses Sari's initial landing, but the gang ropes him in when she ends up needing specialized repairs. Or, alternatively, he could be Sari's cybertronian dad, stuck back home and worried over how his daughter's first mission is going. Although he wouldn't be super involved in the au if I went with that idea.

Swindle is the owner of the local pawn shop, also in the same lot. He rarely seems to ever show up to work, leaving the shop closed for several days in a row. Sometimes even for weeks. It's a wonder to everyone how the pawn shop still manages to make a profit when Swindle is constantly on his 'overseas trips'. Bee and Bulk have swapped plenty of theories on what they think Swindle really does for a living, such as being a secret agent, or his store being a front for secret military experiments.

Thinking more of the lot they all work in, I'm calling it the Tower Plaza. Sort of drawing off the idea of Sumdac Tower from the show, and yeah a little inspo from OK KO I have to admit. The Tower Plaza gets it's name from a tall, abandoned clock tower that stands as the icon of the area. The clock hasn't worked for years but no one can afford to own or repair the building. This ends up becoming Sari's main hiding place. Bulk and Bee help her to spruce things up inside, making her a real home away from home. There's even a big basement door she can hide out in when Meg's men start poking their noses around.

Speaking of Megs again, his goal in this au would primarily be to capture Sari and have his scientists reverse engineer her for their own advancements in tech. Pretty much exactly what Sumdac did in the show with Megatron himself. Although while Sumdac had empathy for Megs when he was found to still be alive, Megs in this cares not what happens to Sari in the process. He doesnt see her as a living being (yet), and mainly just wants to advance his company for even higher profits.

And thus comes the conflict between the Tower Plaza gang and uhhh whatever I end up naming Megatron's company as.

Smaller notes:

•Folks on discord helped me out to find the PERFECT alt mode for Sari. That is, a Folland Gnat fighter aircraft. It's small and speedy and just really fits Sari's vibes

•Bee personally takes it on himself to teach Sari as many human curse words as possible. Orion nearly has a heart attack the first time he hears Sari swear

•Bee is also the one who came up with nicknames for everyone. Although Bulk is the one who came up with 'Bee' for him

•Orion was a second lieutenant before he was discharged

•Orion doesn't like to talk to anyone about why he was discharged from the military. Uncle Ratchet knows it involved another lieutenant and an intelligence officer, both friends of Orion. He doesn't know anything past that.

•Cybertron is not at war in this au, meaning the factions of autobots and decepticons don't actually exist. The need to hide the Allspark was more to keep it away from other alien races who would like to steal and misuse it

•Sari is only minimally trained for combat scenarios. With the occasional battle while on Earth, she asks Prowl to teach her some hand to hand combat. After an incident where she nearly took out a building, they now train far out in the woods

[timeskip]

[768 words]

3

Aoi is 13 when he begins to dye his hair, stealing bottles of bleach and toner from the store behind everyone's backs.

Akane watches this with interest, at first; she's only 10, and the idea of getting different colors in her hair is exciting until Aoi warns her not to touch it, and the smell is awful, and he spends hours and hours dying it, and then his roots grow out anyway. She still watches him bleach it once, because he's all she has, even if she's just sitting on the side of the bathtub and listening to him tell her not to steal.

Her brother can steal, but Akane can't; for a reason she can't explain, she thinks that someday she'll commit worse crimes.

Akane watches him move, his reflection in the mirror, and kicks her feet and tries to imagine Aoi with white hair for the rest of his life. Somehow, it fits.

More than that, Akane is happy for this moment. He rarely comes home from work this early, but she's always happy when he does. Already, she's gotten some taste of how little the adults care for the two of them, and the two of them are always alone.

6

As Akane grows into her memories, so does Aoi. One second he's the boy with the blue scarf who Seven will describe 9 years in the future, and the next he's turning into her memory of Santa, with his white hair and hairbands, and eyes that look both unlike her brother as she knew him at 15, and which undeniably will be him, in the future.

Akane is meticulous about appearances. It's habit; everything has to look the same, and then has to work the same. She sees the Nonary Game through a fragmented, child's memory. She and Aoi and the hired engineers are reverse engineering their own future.

Akane starts wearing arm warmers before Aoi does. She starts wearing her hair into half a bun before Aoi puts on his hairbands.

On the tip of her tongue is a request for him to do the same, to play the role he's meant to play before the day comes that he has to be that perfect Santa from her memories; but she can't bring herself to say it. There's over a year left, she reminds herself, and taps the spot on her wrist that will one day carry a bracelet. She should wear that too, someday, practice being June in more than face and voice and expression.

Aoi already knows what his role is, Akane tells herself. She has to trust him.

When they were kids, she trusted him absolutely, let him work himself down in whatever jobs he could get after school, labor laws be damned--and she's grateful for that, she really is. It's not fair for her to not trust her with this, with her entire life. There's no way that Aoi will mess up.

But still, she worries. She looks in the mirror and thinks that something in her has aged past 20, past 21, into a nebulous future she hasn't tried looking for yet.

0

The desert rushes past, and Akane is laughing because it's better than crying. Relief is a strange emotion, bubbling through her body as she realizes she doesn't know what to do now.

She's running from everything she created, just as they decided, but she can't stop herself from looking back at Building Q, that strange, boxy shape behind her.

"You didn't have to remind me to put on my seatbelt," she tells Aoi, still staring behind them.

"Yeah I did. I'm still your brother, you know." He's doing that tone, now--a reminder tone, a tone that says listen to me. And she is listening, finally looking back at him. Aoi is her brother. Even if Santa wasn't June's brother--Akane has to remember that Aoi is her brother.

With him, slowly this day will unwind them back into who they really are; June and Santa will go away for the time being.

But maybe she'll miss having something to look for in the future. She really does feel so empty. Akane's life work has ended, 9 years of desperation trying to make the dominoes fall correctly.

But she hasn't lost everything; while she was shaping herself into the person she'd have to be, Aoi has been supporting her. Every moment, every second, as the sun beats down on the sand and Akane is falling through the hourglass, she can still remember what it felt like to have precious time with him, only having each other.

[ms-demeanor]

Okay so, how exactly do Password Managers work?

Because I'm pretty sure that giving some random corporation all my passwords would just make it EASIER for my personal info to get leaked.

I mean it is genuinely complicated; I don't know if you saw my explanation about dominoes yesterday, but basically you're not giving the company your information. You are creating an account with a company and they are handing you a tool that is extremely securely encrypted to store your passwords in. The company never has access to your passwords, or to the key you use to unlock your account. What they have access to is the cryptographic hash of your key to prove that it is you trying to access the account, but they can't reverse engineer the key that you use.

It's the same sort of process that encrypted email services like ProtonMail use. It's zero-knowledge storage. All that the password manager company is storing (in the case of a good password manager like Bitwarden) is up to 1gb of encrypted data for free users. They don't have access to your information. They couldn't get into it if they wanted to. All that they know about you is whatever information you used to register for the service and broad information about creation of the account.

Part of the reason that I recommend Bitwarden is that it is both open source and pretty widely used and recommended.

Open source security products are often considered more secure than closed-source tools because they can be examined and tested at the source-code level by *anyone* to check for vulnerabilities and holes in the security. Functionally what this means is that you have very smart, very motivated, and very security-conscious people testing products like Bitwarden for flaws and reporting them immediately.

I'm not great at explaining cryptographic hashing so I'm in a position where basically all I can tell you is "Trust me it works, and if that's not enough you have to go do some reading about hashing because I can't explain it." This is the barrier that a LOT of people have to using a password manager, and it's frustrating because genuinely, it is not something that people who work in security worry about *at all.*

When we're working with security the concern about password managers is *never* that a zero-knowledge company is going to have a leak. The concern is that data might actually be stored in plaintext (something you don't have to worry about with bitwarden because if that was the case everyone on the forums would be screaming their heads off at all times, and they are not) or that a phishing campaign is going to trick a user into handing over their password to the password manager.

But yeah, when you start using a good password manager with zero-knowledge storage, you aren't handing your data to a company. What's happening is that the company is handing YOU a tiny safe. The tiny safe has a ten-thousand-digit combination lock that you set the code for, and the company has no way of figuring out that code. They're hoping that you will pay them for the safe. And if you forget your code, you're screwed - the company can't get you access because, again, they have no way of getting the code. They don't store it, they don't see it, they don't know it, they can't produce it if ordered to do so at trial, and they can't reset the code.