#Metal Garage Prices

[metalcarportsdirect]

When it comes to ensuring your vehicles are protected from cruel climate conditions or essentially including a la mode, viable expansion to your property, a custom metal carport can be an incredible arrangement. Metal carports are flexible, strong, and frequently more reasonable than conventional ones. Be that as it may, choosing the leading custom metal carport for your needs includes careful consideration and inquiry. This extreme direct will assist you in discovering the culminated custom metal carports near me by covering essential components to consider, tips for choosing the proper supplier, and upkeep exhortation.

[stormsstudios]

• Price: § 41.128 • Lot size: 20x15 • Gallery ID: Boobookitee • No CC; Residential Lot • Build Time: 9 Hours 13 Minutes • Tray Files (Drive)

One man's trash is another's treasure, which aptly describes the local scrap collector. The owner of this trailer possesses a remarkable talent for creativity, transforming metal into machinery or even sculptures while behind hedges and gates. While their exact creations remain a mystery, the unmistakable sound of their late-night tinkering at 2am has not gone unnoticed. This is a 1 bedroom 1 bath trailer built to mimic the metal-scrap recycling trailer from down my street. There is a robotics machine to practice tinkering inside the garage, as well as a few other fun gadgets to mess with. Build [3/5] Bedrock Strait Renovation

[a-b-riddle]

Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.

When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.

Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.

Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.

It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.

He simply didn’t care if you were.

He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.

It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?

He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.

Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?

Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.

When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.

When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.

“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.

You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.

"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.

You were safe.

You weren't going to be tortured.

You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.

"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.

"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”

It took you a moment to process it.

Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.

And Simon was touching you.

He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.

"Why?"

“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.

"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.

Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.

"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.

"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.

Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."

"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.

"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.

Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.

Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.

He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.

He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.

You would fall as deeply as he had.

You would come to love your life with Simon.

No matter how long it took you to accept it.

[n30nwrites]

Good Doggy (Shifter! TF141 x Male!Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist here

Warnings - Some awkwardness and staring

Updated; 3/5/2024 with more details

Beta Reader: @letmelickyoureyeballs whose saving my life right now.

You had to leave your job in the city for your own safety, to an abandoned house left by your aunt, who you were close to until she passed. It was a struggle to get there, most of your cousins wanted to burn it down, as did your father.

But in times like these, you needed it.

The car pulled up to the house, a Jeep that was filled to the brim with everything you could grab. Suitcases and trash bags filled with items. You didn't even have a bed, just some pillows and blankets. Maya would be by later and she would set up her own room. Thinking of her caused you to fiddle with the knife in your pocket, your thumb rubbing over the runes that were etched into the metal.

The house was nice. Large, you looked it up on Zillow because you could barely remember what it looked like. 4 beds, 3 baths, fully paid for.

And you would be alone in it. 

The car was parked so that your trunk was facing the garage, opening it with a click of a button and dragging everything out. Quickly, avoiding your neighbors’ stares as they walked out. One neighbor in particular who didn't seem to stop even when you stared back at him.

A mohawk, buff thighs and arms, and his mouth was slightly opened as he kept staring. You stared back, glaring at him as every time you turned back in the car he was there.

Until he turned into air. Just a second and he was replaced by someone else, someone who was taller than him and with a mask that had a skull on it.

You had a mask on as well, but yours was a plain black medical mask. And Mohawk was back next to him, and both just stared.

You didn't like the staring, you escaped that city for a reason.

So you finished shoving all your stuff in the garage and locked your car, staring at them until the garage closed, where you could finally take a breath, taking the mask off as you relaxed in your closed-off house, all the doors locked and the windows covered.

You went to your future bedroom, your aunt's items were gone. All the furniture was taken when she died. In your cousin's words "You got the house, not her stuff" and you were fine with that. No pictures, no couches nor shelves, just plain purple walls. All appliances were gone as well. No fridge or stove, it was dead.

And Your cousins just burned it all. It was such a waste.

You were fine with it, it was almost comforting. Her spirit wasn't around anymore. 

"I'm hungry..." you grumbled to yourself, grabbing your new phone and calling the closest pizza place.

"How is that even possible?" John Price was angry. He liked things to be planned to the very last detail. It kept him and his pack safe. Moving to this small town with a large forest was for safety, and now it could all be screwed up because of a new neighbor.

A new neighbor that was supposedly Soap's AND Ghost's mate.

Stupid fucking shifters.

He says that as if he isn't jealous. Part of moving here meant that they also had the ability to leave quickly if needed, and having an attachment like a mate, especially a human one, meant that Ghost and Soap wouldn't leave without you.

Whether they would force you or not would be your decision.

But it was all so stupid. Stupid enough that Price thought about killing you, for just a moment. And then he looked at Soap's lovestruck look and completely forgot that idea.

It was time for him to meet you. To actually see what the big deal was.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick wanted Soap to shut up. Ghost knew when to be quiet, and Gaz could appreciate that. But if he had to be reminded of how lonely he was one more time he was going to snap.

Of course the second in command and the lieutenant found their mate. Of course it had to be a human.

And Gaz wanted to be happy for his friends, of course he did but god did he wish it was him instead. He had always been so lonesome and just focused on finding this one person, but since he's left to live a (relatively) normal life, he's had no hope. It's just been him and the pack, and while they were great people, he couldn’t see himself marrying them.

He almost cringes thinking about it.

But Gaz shuts up instead as Soap goes on about this person who moved in right across from them. About how amazing they looked and what Soap spotted in their suitcases. He seemed obsessive over every detail and Gaz wished it was him.

But he grins and laughs and tells Soap "I can't wait to meet him" because that's what good friends do.

NEXT

Alright so I know it's been a hot second, here me out. Things have gotten super stressful and I basically couldn't function for a few months but I'm gonna try to write some more so here's a new story I'm working on, IDK I like the idea of it and it's mainly for me more than anything so.

[munsonluhvr]

MAMA, I'M IN LOVE WITH A MECHANIC (PART 1)

mechanic!eddie munson x receptionist!reader, no warnings. ❀ part 2 & part 3 coming soon...

“No, that’s not-“ Joyce Byers begins to say as she gently pushes you to the side of the register with a frustrated, yet gentle, sigh. “It’s like this,” she says, pushing the metal buttons of the cash register, making the cash drawer pop out towards you. You frown, biting your lips as embarrassment creeps across your cheeks. On the other side of the register, the teen-boy customer looks between you and Joyce with an impatient look. 

It’s your first day as the new receptionist at Munson’s Timeless Tune-Ups, a car repair shop owned by Wayne Munson and his nephew Eddie Munson; though, so far, you’ve only met Wayne. Joyce, the current receptionist, is moving to California for a ‘new start’ she told you, and you are learning her ways, or trying to learn at least. 

It’s only 1pm, and already your head is beginning to ache. Since 7am, you’ve been learning how to work the register, schedule appointments, and learn automotive terminology in order to tell Wayne and Eddie the issues the customers are having with their vehicles – and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake in applying for this job. 

“You’ll get the hang of it, y/n. Don’t worry,” Joyce says, offering you an encouraging smile though you question her transparency. So far, you haven’t figured out the register quite yet. She moves a few paces to the side, pulling out a box cutter from her back pocket and bending down towards the small pile of cardboard boxes that rest behind the counter. “Mind helping me with these?” Joyce says, gesturing towards the boxes. You nod, leaving from behind the register to help. 

Together, you and Joyce cut the boxes open, revealing various types of air fresheners and other car accessories, placing them neatly on the racks on the wall. Munson’s Timeless Tune-Ups is a small, humble shop, the register adjacent to the garage area where the Munson’s fix the cars. The office is small, the register placed on top of a wooden table. Off to the right, the wall is covered with things to purchase, small pamphlets explaining different car issues. The windows that line the wall allow for ample sun to flush into the office, making it bright. 

Behind you, the telephone rings loudly, causing you and Joyce to jump. Joyce drops the product she holds back into the box and moves towards the telephone. You hum softly, continuing to place the little packets of air fresheners onto their hooks. You’re living in your own mind until Joyce inhales sharply and then places the phone back onto the hook. “Y/n, I’m so sorry to have to do this, especially on your first day, but my son Will needs to be picked up from school,” Joyce says, moving quickly to collect her jacket and purse from the chair. “I don’t think the Munson’s have many cars left to do so you won’t have to worry about using the register, hopefully they’ll give you exact change.” 

You try to maintain a smile, though panic is beginning to settle into you. You barely can use the register, somewhat know how to schedule appointments, and ask the right questions to write down for the Munson’s, but what are you to do without Joyce? “O-Okay, Joyce.” 

“Just be sure to lock up, the keys are on the hook by the door.” Joyce gestures towards the door that leads into the garage part of the shop where a set of keys dangle on the hook. You nod, biting your lip again to ease your anxiety. “Good luck.”

“I hope your…“ you begin to say as Joyce pulls the door open. “…son feels better,” you finish, though Joyce is gone before you can finish your pleasantry. You sigh to yourself, looking at the several boxes that are left to unbox, price, and put onto the wall.  You continue your work, pleased that you at least have something to keep you busy until the shop closes. 

Off in the distance, somewhere in the garage, you can hear Wayne and who you assume is Eddie, chatter back and forth, listening to the radio loudly. Occasionally there is a loud bang, a clank, of the last of the customers cars behind repaired. Your fingers are laced with angst, the anticipation of not knowing how to use the register, or anything really, making it hard to concentrate.

Working in the quiet of the office is disturbed when the chime of the front door signals a customer. Placing your hands on your knees to lift you up, you turn towards the door ready to greet the customer but the male standing in the doorway is covered in grease, dirt marks tattering his bare arms and glistening chest. He has long, dark, curly hair, a red bandana covering the top of his head. This must be Eddie. 

“So, you must be Joyce’s replacement. Y/n, right? Aren’t you pretty,” Eddie says bluntly, moving towards the water dispenser in the corner of the office. Your eyes widen, goosebumps raising on your skin as you watch him walk past the front of the register. “Thanks,” you mumble, looking down at the surface of the register counter. 

“Wayne said this is your first day on the job,” Eddie says, glancing at you. His eyes graze the length of your body as you places a small, paper cup underneath the spicket and then push the lever for water. “How’s it going so far?” 

You flush under his sight, feeling every curve and inch of your flesh under scrutiny. You clear your throat, trying to glance at Eddie casually. God, he’s so gorgeous. “F-Fine. Joyce had to leave but I think I can manage.” 

Eddie hums, taking a few paces to sit in the chair that’s a few inches from you. He sighs loudly as he sits, kicking his feet out to rest on the register counter, blocking you in. He leans his head against the wall, looking at you. “I’m sure you can, I believe in you,” he says with a wink. You smile, then look away, sitting on the stool directly behind the register. 

He’s wearing a white, cotton tank top, that’s now see-through due to sweat. His jeans are covered in dirt marks, his yellow steel-toed boots now dark brown with dirt. His fingers are covered in silver rings, a silver chain adorning his defined chest. You feel your core begin to melt. 

“I just need to rest a minute, the garage has been so busy today,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyelids. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

You shake your head, glancing at him quickly. “Of course not. Plus, it’s your shop.” 

“My uncle’s shop, I merely work here. Plus,” Eddie says mimicking you, “you were in here in silence and I had to come in here and disturb that.”

You shrug, a little smile creeping across your mouth. “I don’t mind the company.” 

Eddie hums softly again, opening his eyes only to flash you a little smile. You two sit in silence for only a moment when the last customer saunters into the office. “May I pay?” he asks, looking between you and Eddie. You nod, turning away from Eddie and to the customer. 

The panic begins to set in again as you stare at the metal keys of the antique cash register. You take the yellow slip from the customer, looking towards the bottom for the total that Wayne has written. You recall Joyce’s protocol on how to use the register and you follow them confidently, feeling Eddie’s eyes on you. You punch in the numbers and wait for the cash drawer to slide open – but nothing happens. “Um,” you say nervously to the customer. “Sorry, let me try again.” 

You try again yet come to the same result. You clench your jaw, heat beginning to creep up your neck. ‘Why me?’ you think to yourself.

“Let me help,” Eddie says, taking his feet of the counter. He stands up, sliding up beside you close enough that your arms brush. He punches in the total on the register, a few other buttons, and the cash register opens up with a ding! Your fingers work quick to take the customer’s bill and exchange it with the exact change. “Have a nice day,” you murmur, moving to sit back on the stool, your line of sight aimed at the floor.

Once the customer leaves, Eddie moves around from behind the counter, moving towards the front door where the customer left only seconds before. “It was nice meeting you, y/n. I can already tell I’ll be hanging in the office a lot more.” Eddie says, turning towards where you sit on the other side of the office. Before you can reply, Eddie slips out the door. 

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

Epoxy floor coating is not just a practical choice for enhancing the durability of your flooring; it's also a stylish solution that can transform any space. Whether you're a homeowner looking to revamp your garage or a business owner seeking reliable commercial flooring solutions, understanding the benefits of epoxy will help you make informed decisions. As you search for "floor polishing near me," consider how an expertly applied epoxy coating can elevate your interiors while providing a long-lasting finish. 

Epoxy Floor Coating

Epoxy floor coating is a highly durable and resilient flooring solution that has gained popularity in both residential and commercial spaces. This type of coating is made from a combination of resin and hardener, creating a strong bond when applied to existing concrete surfaces. The result is a seamless surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, chemicals, and abrasions.

One of the major benefits of epoxy floor coating is its versatility. It can be customized in various colors and finishes, including high-gloss and matte textures. This means that property owners can choose a look that complements their interior design while still providing the durability they require. Additionally, the smooth finish of epoxy makes it easy to clean and maintain, which is particularly advantageous in commercial settings.

Furthermore, the installation process for epoxy floor coating is relatively quick, often completed within a few days. However, it’s essential to hire professionals who have the expertise and equipment to ensure a flawless application. The right team will properly prepare the surface, allowing for optimal adhesion and longevity of the coating.

Floor Polishing Near Me

When searching for floor polishing near me, it's essential to find a service that not only meets your expectations but also understands the unique needs of your flooring. Professional floor polishing can revitalize old surfaces, restoring their shine and luster while protecting them from future wear and tear.

Many local companies offer specialized services in floor polishing that cater to various materials, including hardwood, tile, and concrete. A quick search in your area will yield numerous options, allowing you to compare prices, services, and customer reviews to find the best fit for your needs.

Additionally, hiring professionals for floor polishing ensures that the job is done correctly and efficiently. They use advanced equipment and high-quality products that not only enhance the appearance of your floors but also extend their lifespan. So, don't hesitate to reac

Commercial Flooring Solutions

Commercial flooring solutions are essential for businesses seeking to enhance their aesthetic appeal while also ensuring durability and functionality. The choice of flooring can greatly influence the overall atmosphere of a commercial space, leading to improved employee morale and customer satisfaction.

Among the various options available, epoxy floor coatings stand out due to their seamless finish and resistance to heavy foot traffic. These coatings not only provide a sleek look but also protect the underlying surface from wear and tear, making them ideal for warehouses, retail spaces, and industrial environments.

Moreover, businesses often explore additional options such as vinyl flooring, carpet tiles, and laminate surfaces to meet specific needs. Each of these materials offers unique advantages, allowing business owners to choose the most suitable flooring solution that aligns with their operational demands and aesthetic preferences.

Metallic Epoxy Floor

A metallic epoxy floor offers a stunning visual appeal that enhances the aesthetic of any space. The reflective properties of the metallic pigments create a unique look, resulting in a three-dimensional effect that can mimic a variety of surfaces, such as water, marble, or even molten metal. This type of flooring is especially popular in modern homes, showrooms, and commercial spaces, providing an eye-catching yet durable surface.

One of the significant advantages of a metallic epoxy floor is its durability. This flooring solution is resistant to stains, chemicals, and impacts, making it ideal for high-traffic areas. Additionally, it is easy to clean and maintain, which means that business owners and homeowners can save time and resources. The seamless nature of epoxy flooring also contributes to a hygienic environment, especially in spaces like hospitals or laboratories.

Installing a metallic epoxy floor can be a customized process, allowing property owners to choose their preferred colors and patterns. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, industrial look or a vibrant, artistic finish, this flooring solution can be tailored to meet your unique vision. By consulting with professionals, you can ensure that your metallic epoxy floor is installed correctly and maximizes its longevity and beauty.

[aisquaredchoco]

I know I said I'm getting a little rest from making cc, but I just can't sit here knowing I reached 900 followers and do nothing about it. Though these were just unreleased projects that were wating to be posted during the time I had a broken internet at home so no worries, I didn't pressure myself to make these as these were made carefully and with love. So here's a token of gratitude for the huge following I continuously receive all throughout. Thank you everyone! 🥰

4to3 Eco Lifestyle "Panel to the Metal" Wall

-- Three channels, cost §3, found in Walls > Paneling

4to3 Eco Lifestyle "Layered Paneling" Floor

-- Two channels, cost §4, found in Floors > Metal

4to3 Cottage Living "All Good Days Daisy Box"

-- Ah yes, this is the plant I showed on the tutorial I shared not a little long ago. One channel with 7 presets for each flower variation, costs §50, found in Decor > Plants. Contains the original catalog description from TS4.

4to3 Seasons "Branching Out"

-- Four channels (yes, even the flowers!), costs §50, found in Decor > Plants. Contains the original catalog description from TS4.

4to3 Spa Day "Wheatless-Wheat Grass"

-- Two variations, one with a single channel and another with two channels. Costs §65, found in Decor > Plants. Contains the original catalog description from TS4.

4to3 For Rent "Indoor Outdoor Plastic Chair"

-- I had my eyes set on this plastic chair when For Rent came out, so I know I have to convert it for my game. And anyone else who wants it can have it too! One channel, costs §30, found in Comfort > dining Chairs, Misc. Contains the original catalog description from TS4.

***UPDATE 12 APR 2024: PLEASE REDOWNLOAD!

***The chair's holes are not shown to be transparent. This is now updated with the corrected transparency. Sorry for the inconvenience!

4to3 Greenhouse Haven Kit "The Plant Platform by Plant-It"

-- Two channels, costs §175, found in Surfaces > Shelves, Misc. Shiftable with 7 slots. Contains the original catalog description from TS4.

Decades "JuxtaPlant" Separated Planter* and Plant

-- Self-explanatory, made the planter and plant as separate objects. The planter has the same two channels and a single slot for the plants to put on, price is reduced to §100. The plant is non recolorable and costs §75. Both are found in Decor > Plants.

Fast Lane "Stack O'Storage" as Planter*

-- Aside from being a garage clutter, this stack of crates from Fast Lane can also be a planter of your choice too, also with a slot for your plants. Priced §75, found in Decor > Plants.

Base Game Ficus and Philodendron as Separate Plants

Same with the JuxtaPlant plant, these were also 'depotted' from their vases and can be freely placed in any emptied planters. Non-recolorable, cost §150 (Ficus) and §50 (Philodendron). Both found in Decor > Plants.

*note: these planters will not work with harvestable plants, as these are made for decorative purposes only. If someone wants to remake them as functional planters, please do so!

Everything is base game compatible!

DOWNLOAD: Simfileshare | Mediafire

[drefear]

Major in English, Minor in Criminology

Murderer!Miguel x Journalist!Reader

TW: smut, cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick. Murder, violence, rough sex, light BDSM and squirting, manipulation, voyeurism, probably other shit, he's a fucking murderer.

This is where your English degree got you. 

Tied up in someone’s… garage? Basement? Storage container? You didn’t really know, since you just woke up here. How long has it been since you’d seen sunlight? Your skin felt sticky and filthy from the sweat and grime on you. 

This all started because you, a reporter, wanted to get into more serious reporting instead of stupid “Dairy Queen Price Changes,” or whatever you were supposed to be doing. You instead begged your boss to do something more dangerous and cutting edge, which would be the murder happening near the library in your town. You’d been going there to take notes about the crimes when someone grabbed you from behind and hit you with a heavy, lead pipe. 

And you woke up here. 

The door is metal and the walls are concrete, with a toilet and a sink, and a wrought iron bed bolted to the ground. There’s a slot in the metal door, and there’s blood stains all over. The sheets of the bed, the sink, the floor by the single window that’s been covered from the outside. 

You’ve woken up a few times and can only assume it’s been four days. You’ve flipped your pants inside out and used your blazer as a blanket by now, trying to use your resources to at least be slightly less uncomfortable. Even your throat feels raw and gross, having not spoken since the day you got here. 

Suddenly, the slot opens and food slides through before you sigh. 

“Thank you…” you speak quietly and the slot opens again, sliding through a bottle of water… with tape on the top of the bottle instead of a cap. 

“Did…” you begin to yell, “did you drug this?” 

A laugh is all you hear through the cracks of the slot and you sigh again. If you were any less sane, you’d think the laugh was sexy and raspy, but at this point, you’re sure you’re just deprived from human contact. 

Completely dehydrated and starved since you are basically getting nothing here, you gulp down the bottle of water in no time and begin to scarf down chicken nuggets like it’s no one’s business. 

“Um… excuse me?” You call out, with no success. “Can- is there any way I can take a shower?” Another laugh roared through the door and echoed in the room as you bit your bottom lip. 

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry.’ Your mind played that mantra over and over until you were strong enough to not cry. 

The next day, or so you thought, you woke up stiff and dehydrated once more as you heard another meal slide through the door slot, but you ignored it. You were beginning to hope for death, maybe die of starvation or dehydration instead of giving him the satisfaction of killing you himself. 

A grunt made you perk up and you turned towards the slot to see two eyes peering at you in the humid, uncomfortable darkness. A chill went down your spin as his eyes looked red in the dark lighting, like two lasers, and you squeezed your eyes shut. 

‘You’re just hallucinating, it’s ok. It’s not real.’ 

A second water bottle sliding through the slot made you look back to see the eyes once more, just blankly staring. 

You slowly moved to grab the two waters and back away, like a small animal trying to escape a large predator. 

As you retreat and knock against the iron bed frame, you calm down and think to yourself, ‘I win this round… but what happens when I lose?’

Your conscious wrestles with itself while you nibble on the empanadas he gave you, and shiver on the cold floor. A second goes by before you lock eyes with the man on the other side of the door once more, feeling them first before you gazed back at him. A beat passes before something else slides through the slot. You pick it up and realize it's a thin sheet. Did he know you felt cold? Did he see you shivering?

You covered yourself with the paper-like blanket and sat in silence as he closed the slot, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Why was he being nice? 

Hours later and you could hear him walking around, heavy footsteps across the door. Were you… In his house? You tried to map out a few rooms from where you could hear things echoing before you heard what sounded like a refrigerator opening. 

“Hello?” You called out and all sounds of movement seized. “Can I have more water?”

A few footsteps came closer to the door, but nothing came. “Please?” 

The sound of him walking away was all you could hear before you huffed and pouted. The hot and cold moods were annoying, and you were literally being held captive! You pushed the slot open a bit and saw a bottle of water, open, sitting a few inches from the slot. He was playing games with you. 

A grumble pasted your lips as you wiggled your hand through the slot and tried to grab the water, despite it feeling like your hand may get stuck. As you made a swipe at the bottle, it toppled over and spilled away from you. Laughter filled the room as you realized he had been watching, and you tugged your hand through with rough pull, scraping the top and giving yourself a scratch. You slumped your shoulders as he was still chuckling and sat on the bed, no longer interested in his games. 

The next day was the same, he shoved the food in with the water, but you again didn’t move. You have no energy or attraction to his schemes to play with you like a puppet. A grunt made you turn towards the slot and red eyes looked back at you, but you shoved the finger into the sliver of light and turned back to the wall. 

A few hours later, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest when through the cracks, you heard the voice once more. The rumble of a groan and yawn is all you heard before the door swung open and a large silhouette stood before you, almost reaching the top of the door frame. His big arms held where his head almost hit and you realized that you were in bigger trouble than you previously thought. Most killers were scrawny or at least normal sized, using weapons to kill. 

This man was a monster! 

You were confident that he could use his bare hands to kill you. 

His red eyes glared towards your cowering body as he began to close in towards you. Of course, with your luck, you were already sitting in the far corner of your “bed” as he latched a hand around your bicep and jerked you towards him. Tears pricked your eyes as he turned you around and forced you to bed over on the bed. You felt him begin to tie your hands together with a brittle rope, biting into your wrists with the roughness, and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“You’ll take a shower and I’ll watch.” He said, with the same sexy rasp you thought you’d hallucinated. His words sunk in and your eyes popped open like a champagne cork. “Really?” You perked up and smiled a bit. A shower! It’s what you really wanted, but a second passed and another thought about what he just said made you look down. “You’re going to watch me?” 

“Can’t let you escape because I was dumb enough to leave you alone in my bathroom.” He answered and pulled you up, practically carrying you out the metal door. 

You looked around and saw the cozy insides of a house, pictures on the wall, a centerpiece sitting on the dining room table. He even had the tv on in the living room, a soccer game playing. He was keeping you in his home.

You looked back at him and saw something else now. 

He was fucking gorgeous.

The fullness of his lips, the high cheekbones, his tousled and messy brown hair, and deep olive skin… He was basically perfect. You tried not to look so obvious, but you couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck. 

Of course you would be turned on by your kidnapper. 

He readjusted you in his arms and basically tossed you over his shoulder, which made you let out a small, helpless squeak, to which he chuckled. You felt something hit you in the back of the head and realized it was the door frame. 

That’s how large he is.

You sighed as he sat you on the counter and you looked around as he started the bathtub. The countertops were all bare, and he had no shower shelves or anything to put any bottles or soap bars on. There were three containers sitting next to you: shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Your brows furrowed as you looked back at him, now staring at you were vacant eyes. He was completely unreadable as he looked down at your clothing and then back up at you. Following his line of sight, you looked down and saw he was just looking at your shirt. 

Then it made sense. 

“You… you’re going to take my shirt off?” 

“I have other clothing for you to wear, but I’m going to cut it off you.” He concluded and when you were about to protest when his eyes darkened while he held a knife. Suddenly seeing your kidnapper holding a knife so close to you made your jaw lock and your throat go bone dry. Your heart rate quickened as he tugged you closer to him and pushed the tip of the blade under the fabric, slicing towards himself. Your eyes focused on his face and you saw how concentrated he was on his knife on you. You stayed as still as possible to avoid him possibly nicking you, and soon the shirt was torn through and you were in your bra. He looked like he was thinking hard as he looked at your bra. The silence was heavy as he just watched you, your chest heaving up and down from the anxiety beginning to really take hold. His lips pursed before he spoke. 

“Why were you at the library that night?” His voice almost surprised you from how quiet the room was, and you hesitated before you answered. 

“I am- I was reporting the murders.” You corrected yourself as he moved the knife towards your cleavage before you leaned away. “Wait-! The straps are removable… so you don’t have to ruin it. You can just unhook it and then unclip the straps.” You pleaded and he just blew a stray strand of brown hair from his eyes. He relented without a word and started unclasping your straps, continuing to question you. 

“So just to get this straight, you went alone and unarmed to the scene where a murderer was finding his victims knowingly?” 

You looked at the ground, ashamed. “Well when you put it that way, I sound stupid.” 

“You are stupid.” He announced and you bite your tongue, seeing as he was a knife-wielding murderer and you liked your blood inside your body. As he continued to unhook your bra, the cups fell off of your body and your breasts were free. He stared, briefly in awe, before he got back to cutting off the rest of your clothing. 

Once you were naked, he just picked you up and placed you into the water before wetting your hair and starting to massage shampoo onto your head. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out a question you’d been thinking of all day. 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” You asked and he froze, then sighing and continuing to clean your hair. 

“I don’t kill women. I kill men who like to assault or hurt women and children.” He grumbled and you stirred in your thoughts before asking more. 

“…Oh.” Is all you could say. He frowned deeply as he began rinsing out your hair. “So… why murder them? Why not report them?” 

“Tried that… cops don’t do shit.” He answered and you just nodded, noticing how he was getting more and more sour. “It… started with my mom. I just hate how these guys beat women and then get away with it.” He continued, and your heart strings were suddenly vibrating with empathy. 

“So why are you still keeping me here?” 

“There’s a few reasons. You know I’m a murderer, you’re being held in a small room in my house, and I hit you over the head with a fuckin’ pipe. I wasn’t expecting you to skip out of here, thanking me for the fun adventure, and promising not to call the fuckin police.” He retorted and you could understand that, which was alarming since you were agreeing with your captor and a murderer. “But the biggest reason is, you weren’t my original target.” Silence fell over you two once more, but this time, it was comfortable… not heavy, but comforting. There was understanding in the air as you thought for a second. You decided to ask the most logical question after being lost in your own head. 

“Who was your target?” 

His mouth closed to a scowl as he poured conditioner into his large palm and moved to rub it into your hair. When it was obvious he wasn’t answering, you sunk into the water a bit more and closed your eyes while you just enjoyed the way he massaged your scalp. 

You knew this was wrong for a thousand, million reasons. Or maybe one reason, but a big ass reason. 

He’s a fucking serial killer. 

But you couldn’t help it, for a weird reason. The way his forearms looked as they massage your scalp in the bathroom mirror made you want to bite them, to drag your fingertips across the tense, veiny skin. This man was doing things for you that you couldn’t have predicted. And for some reason, the fact that he didn’t mean to hurt you was a huge turn on, that he was targeting men who had previously hurt others or done terrible things. You ignored the fact that you might have Stockholm syndrome and directed your thoughts back to the way his biceps flexed in the fogged reflection. Maybe it was how the hot water made your brain hazy with seductive images of you under him, but the droplets on your skin dripped in a way that had you getting wet beneath the water. 

“Hello?” His voice made you jump a bit, the water sloshing up against the side of the tub and soaking his shirt. “Were you even listening?” 

“Yes, absolutely!” You lied, but he didn’t look convinced. His eyes canned your face and you knew that you looked flushed, so you did what anyone embarrassed of their thoughts would do and turned your face so he couldn’t see you. His hand held your cheeks squished between his fingers and turned you back for him to assess, and he didn’t seem pleased. 

“You’re overheating, let me add some cold water.” He announced and turned the faucet back on, letting you sink back into the depths of the tub and your own self-loathing for your lack of ability to conceal your mind. “Better?” He asked and you just nodded, not concerned with the water temperature. He watched you from the corner of his eyes and this made you nervous. You were being watched by a cold-blooded killer, and whether he killed the bad guys or not, it was still scary. He rinsed his hands and cleared his throat as you snapped out of your mental trance, looking up towards him as he stayed stone cold in his expression. “Since I don’t plan on untying you, I’m going to wash your body, but if you don’t want me to touch you, then I could use a loofah or something, like a towel- I didn’t really think this through.” He muttered and you just shook your head. 

“You can touch me.” You spoke softly and he nodded without any emotion, giving you no idea what he was thinking. He began by washing your back and scrubbing a bit, before moving to your arms and feeling you roll your neck to let him get to the nape and around your throat. He was surprised by how trusting you were being, but the truth was he didn’t feel dangerous to you, which was absolutely insane since he had killed people 10 feet away from where you were currently sitting. 

His hands began to wash your chest and before he moved any lower, he looked up at you. “This feels wrong, I’ll just-” 

“It feels good, actually.” You interrupted him and his eyebrows shot up in shock. “I mean-” You began to blush as you realized what had happened, but he smirked a bit before you could say anything else. 

“Would you like… if I made it feel even better?” He asked, his voice dropping a bit as he leaned closer to your burning face. You nodded slowly as his fingers brushed against the bottoms of your breasts, moving to graze your bare nipples and forcing a gasp from your lips. His thick digits twist the pert nubs and you let out a quiet sound like a small animal, giving into the predator in front of it. He keeps a cool demeanor as he teases your boobs and makes you squirm. “Still feel good?” 

“Yes…” you whispered and closed your eyes as his hand slipped under the water to massage the rest of your body, pushing his fingers gently through your folds and pressing directly onto your clit. You yelped in pleasure and shivered as he bent his head to your throat and kissed your pulse point behind your ear. r ear. His lips were soft and full on your skin as he pushed and toyed with the bundle of nerves in between his fingertips. The water splashed as you jerked a bit at the sudden sensations and he chuckled, pulling your soaked body up and throwing you over his shoulder once more. “Hey-!” You protested, but a slap to your bare ass shut you up, followed by a dark laugh. Miguel carried you into the room near where you slept and you saw a single king size bed with tall posts on all corners, being thrown to the center before he reached behind him with one hand and pulled his shirt off over his head. He took your bound hands and placed them on the bulge forming in his pants. It was almost as thick as your forearm and long as well. You blushed red before then meeting his eyes and seeing the shining cockiness reflected. You gulped down the tension between your thighs and looked at him through thick lashes as he stared down at your naked body. It was like he was analyzing you with malintent, the look on his face creating a dark shadow clouding over your morals and conscience. His large hand flattened on your abdomen as he kneeled before you and inhaled between your legs, his exhale leaving goosebumps against your exposed mound of flesh. He was clearly entertained by the prickle of your skin and immediately dove into you like a child on Christmas morning, licking heavily into your lips and lifting your asscheek on his shoulder. Your back arched almost so much it pained you as you jumped from the abrupt amount of sucking on your clit, a strained sound falling out of your mouth. You’d never heard that before, but then again, no one had literally sucked and licked the life out of you like this. 

He reached up a meaty hand and pinched at your nipple hard, twisting enough to make you scream and feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You felt his teeth graze against your sensitive peak and your eyes snapped onto where his mouth was currently on you, eliciting a chuckle from him as you shivered. 

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you a little?” He asked in a raspy whisper before slapping your breast a bit. You gasped loud and he smiled, his sharp canines gleaming a bit. 

Miguel moved to hover above you before rubbing his cock against your clit, the friction making you tense up a bit before he grabbed your throat. Your eyes found his, and he bent his head so his breath was warm against your ear. 

“I’m not going to play nice just because you’re a pretty little thing.” 

Without any other words, he shoved his dick in you and the burning stretch of his thickness made you let out a painful whine. The sound made his shiver as he jutted his hips into you even further, his cock nudging something so deep within you that tears pricked the corners of your eyes. He seemed to get even harder when he saw the small bits of pain he caused in you, and that made you hornier. The crazed look in his eyes made you flush and pant while he fucked you rough, practically making you dizzy from the jerky and harsh movements. He grunted as you felt the coil in your core begin to heat and tense, before it snapped and you instantly climaxed. It was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had as he smiled, like a predator enjoying the thrill of the hunt, and you gulped when he grabbed your waist before drilling back into you at a panickingly fast pace. Tears welled in your eyes from the pressure in your abdomen from his violent fucking, but the adrenaline made you begin to build towards another orgasm. This time was different, it was almost a burning feeling in your lower body and a surge as you swung your arms around his neck to help hold on. 

“Fuck, just like that, so fucking tight.” He mumbled, and you questioned if he was even speaking to you or just vocalizing his thoughts to himself, but you were distracted by the crash of the second climax and the sudden, very wet feeling on your stomach. A loud, pregnant growl made you shiver as his hips spasmed and rutted into your in a painful way, so deep you thought you may have hurt something, but you were enjoying this all too much to care at all, and he hovered over you for a moment while he caught his breath. 

“Holy shit, that was fucking great…” He whispered and leaned down before licking the wetness on your body to your breasts. “You are never leaving.” He smirked and you laid on your back, thinking about how you were completely fine with this.

[tojisun]

just went through ur entire biker!simon tag (about to go on a reblogging spree pls forgive me) and OUGH i have the most horrendous brainrot now thank u for the food u legend 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

also price on a harley im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i actually want the whole biker!141 squad SO BAD.

omg thank u so so much!! and no omg ur reblogs are much appreciated!! nthn to fogive here <33

and ahhhhh im glad u have biker!simon brainrot toooo. it stays making me giggle n stuff so hhhhhh thank u guys sm for having fun w me as i write silly little aus <333

also! im definitely tryna complete a biker!141 instalment bc someone asked me about them and i just went bonkers in excitement!!!

-

but just throwin out ideas here:

☃︎ soap and ghost have similar bikes, if not matchin yamahas. i feel like soap retains the colour of his bike from when he got it from the shop, but ghost def got one of his bikes wrapped (have u seen his mask? man likes flare!) (also ghost probably does have more than one bike teehee <33)

☃︎ im thinkin soap probably has a bright coloured bike… (it’s def a red yamaha hhhh god ik he’d look so good on it)

☃︎ price’s first bike meet was where he met alejandro and they def talked about their bikes (price’s was a harley and alejandro’s was a scout bobber), with alejandro offerin up ways to help fix price’s. (alejandro… on a scout bobber… god im on my knees thinking about it) (rudy’s was a harley too)

☃︎ kyle on a pretty, pretty suzuki. im torn between it being midnight blue or metallic blue. either ways, it’s fuckin’ blue and fuck does he look like a god on it

☃︎ soap’s place is the centre point between all of them so it’s an unspoken rule that they all get to use and access his garage

☃︎ kyle often has to take over for soap when they’re all fixin up their bikes (like either before a rally or after, or even just for fun?? is thay fun?) it’s not like soap doesn’t know how to, but it’s just that kyle’s a nerd and soap likes relyin’ on him anyway

☃︎ you’re their (unofficially shared) backpack princess. whenever the squad takes their bikes to ride towards a similar location, simon and you always get flanked by his friends. soap and kyle are behind him, with price driving at the very front. because this way, you’re as safe and as protected as you can be <33

-

… ok but whys that last brainworm making me feral

[postersofleon]

My Ex Girlfriend Is Still Hot

Being recommended this place was good, apparently they can fix any vehicle at a cheap price, but it's not the cheapness that first attracted Leon into this place. It was seeing his ex-girlfriend covered in oil. It had been years since he had seen her, she looked older, but that that didn't reduce his love.

content: angst, fluff and smut

notes: afab fem!reader x leon, reader is divorced mom, mentions of leon's situation-ship with ada, reader is mean to leon (he kinda deserves it), fixing old relationships, baby!, leon is in love with the past, mentions of leon's unhealthy coping mechanisms. the smut is kinda fluffy. this took forever. rewriting and writing again. blah, anyways, minors, um, be care what you read. don't interact, the standard stuff, sorry. also, um, i don't know how this was. it felt rough, sorry. not prove read and... it's long

part one (here)

taglist: @argreion

He was tired. Leon couldn't deny that his 'exciting' life had bored him and broken him up. It was always issue one or issue two causing problems, but he won't think about it.

All he wanted to do now was fix his poor bike that got destroyed after his fight with Maria. His body was still sore from his body being infected, from his body being hit once again. He stepped out of Chris's truck and entered the garage to fix his favorite vehicle. A teenager was flicking through his phone; the kid was kind of covered by oil stains. Eh, he is willing to trust Claire's recommendations of fixing cars. The kid looked old enough, probably fourteen or fifteen to handle himself here.

"Um, hey." He put his hands on his jean pockets, Leon cleared his throat a bit, "I'm guessing you aren't the owner, huh?" The kid slowly looked up at Leon, he looked annoyed as hell to see him, "Duh." He put his phone back in front of his face. Leon cleared his throat again, "Well, is the owner here, kiddo?"

"Mom!" The kid yelped loudly.

Leon pursed his lips together. This kid had lungs. He heard boots approaching them, a woman appeared, "Sorry about the wait." Her hands grabbed a rag and cleaned her hands up. In that exact moment, Leon immediately recognized her- it felt like a one of those smacks he was used to. Her eyes went on the ground for a bit before looking at his eyes.

"So, how can I help you?" She put her hands on her waist. Leon swallowed his spit that was forming on the back of his throat, "Oh, I was..." What the hell? Was he returning back to his stupid roots when he was always awkward with women. He pressed his lips into a line, his mouth now felt dry as hell, "My bike... it needs to be fixed." Finally. Those poor words seemed to struggle to even pop out of his throat.

She nodded her head, "Yeah, can I see the... damage, jeez." Her eyes widen at the extent of the damage, pieces of the bike were dangling and sections of it was scrapped up and turned into a small balls of metal.

Did she recognize Leon?

Stupidly, that was he first question when she tilted her head to see the damage from bellow. She turned to see her... son. Gosh, Leon just connected the points that this kid was actually her son.

"Hey, bring me the gloves," She cleaned her already dirty hands with her black tank top, "There are on top of engine I just bought." With every word she spoke, Leon recalled how much he adored her.

The kid nodded his head and hurried to another room leaving Leon alone with you Her eyes met his, "Are you sure you wanna fix it up?" She put her hands on her waist, "Everything will have to be replaced, and..." Her eyes trailed off to the room where her kid went, "I can promise cheap, but this baby needs all whole bath on oils."

Leon nodded his head. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites."

She looked back at him, a certain similar twinkle was in her eyes, "Oh, curious, you have more?" Leon felt his heart freeze for a second, "Yeah," Leon muttered softly, "My friend, Claire made me like motorcycles." Leon knew it. He knows she recognizes him, but she making herself like she doesn't remember. Before he could comment her child came back with the gloves, she put them on and got on top of truck, she sat on the edges of the truck and moved the bike around.

"So, how much will it cost me?" Leon asked her.

"By the way you treated her, I want to say 100k, but," She jumped off, "You are lucky I have spare pieces everywhere in this shop. The engine, the clutch, the starting gear- everything got broken one way or another." She took off her gloves for a second, "So, it'll be 20 something. The bike looks from this year so it's pieces might be a little expensive or further on."

Leon nodded his head, "Y-yeah, okay."

Her kid and she got on top of the truck and carefully unloaded it to the ground. Leon swallowed, seeing her get dirty was something he never expected from her. Leon helped her down this time, her hands grabbed his arms to assure a safe fall. "It'll take a while to patch her up." She said. Leon smiled, "You do remember me." He whispered.

She rolled her eyes, "You..." She fell into his trap. Trusting his hands on her body would be a red flag to anyone, but for her... it was normal. Seventeen years without seeing each yet, his touch was normal... still normal. "I hate you, Leon Scott Kennedy." She pushed his hands off her waist. Leon tsked his tongue, "I know you do." He can't even deny it. Yet there was a nice feeling. That sense of comfort he never apparently lost.

She gave him her back, "I'll finish the motorcycle as soon as I can." She muttered softly. Leon felt his body hurt, this feeling was always so familiar. The bittersweet feeling of appreciation. Leon stepped forward without thinking, "I'm sorry." He muttered softly. She gave him the finger.

Leon clenched his jaw. "Are you married?" Leon muttered again in his low voice. "I'm sorry for touching you-"

"I'm not married, and my status shouldn't matter to you." She snapped back. Leon nodded his head. He used to not super care if married women threw themselves at him, but hearing those words made a huge pillow to the fall. Hearing her angry was something Leon barely heard from her. But that's what happens when you just leave.

Her son kept an eye on Leon now.

"Is the kid mine?" He whispered softly.

All he was met with was a witch's laugh, you couldn't stop laughing at his utter audacity. "Y, you think I would just have your child and not tell you?" You turned around, you couldn't even see him in this exact second, but it was your job now tying you to him. You could reject fixing his motorcycle. Though, that will make you weak. He left and you are still crying over the past.

"When I heard about what happened in Raccoon City, I thought you died," You licked your lips, the nerves were shaking every detail of your mind, "Not even a letter, a phone call, a fax." Your hands went towards your face and gently rubbed the veins that were slowly popping. "I waited for two years. You know, like a fucking idiot."

The shop was silent. Everyone couldn't look at each other and... once again your dumb feelings got in the way.

"Then, I find out you saved the president's daughter. That was the only damn news I got from you and it was thanks for the government." You turned around angrily. Finally, those tears began to form under your eyes, it was frustrating seeing that idiot with a smile. You only knew Raccoon City got infected, you knew they bombed it and after nothing. Maybe you were selfish. But... didn't you have that right?

Those feelings. Those damn feelings.

"What was the reason's name?" You asked softly.

Leon blinked.

"Name?"

"What was the person who stole your heart? Made you forget about the people you knew in college? The people in our town?"

Leon swallowed. Would you even understand what he went through? Seeing those mountains of dead bodies forming because he accidentally helped Ada? He wanted to help people so badly that he had forgotten the life he once lived. He was a hockey player who lived with his grandmother until she died when he was nineteen. Yet... was he even that guy anymore?

Apparently, the only person who knew him from the past was you. Only you.

"If I tell you, you won't believe me." Leon sighed, his blue eyes met yours, and a sad smile appeared in his lips. "A little girl named Sherry." He crossed his arms against his chest.

"Yeah, was that an excuse to never call for the last couple of years?" You retorted back. "Leon, you didn't leave for a couple of days or weeks. You were gone for six years until I knew you were alive and another couple of more years happened. You left for seventeen years."

All those years passed, yet Leon couldn't stop looking at you. He nearly forgot your details. Even if you are angry with him, he is happy to remember your face and your voice.

"Sorry." Apparently, that made you angry. You didn't mean to, but sometimes you didn't know how much you dealt with him.

-

You refused many times to see him as you fixed his bike, and Leon was trying to fix what he broke. He wanted to ask about your child, who just played with his phone and sometimes helps.

He wanted to ask about your old marriage.

Leon just sat down beside your son, "So, your mom-"

"Not talking to you." The kid immediately said. Leon nodded his head, "About your mom or about everything?" Leon asked politely.

"Everything."

Great. This kid is stubborn. Leon began to tap his thighs, he can try to ease up the kid and get what he wanted. What do kids think is cool? Gun? Zombies? That was Leon's life in a nutshell. "Alright, I'll tell you about me." He sighed softly. "I'm Leon Scott Kennedy. I was born in 1977, my parents died in a car crash, and I was raised by my grandma." Wow, he truly barely spoke about his past until now.

"I met your mom in high school, but I properly knew her when I went to her work." He could easily now remember how you asked for orders, and Leon mumbled a shy, "Milkshake."

"She... she wasn't my first love, but she slowly turned into my first." Leon sighed softly. He smiled. He couldn't get rid of those feelings, but that sad feeling came into his mind. She was his first love, and he nearly forgot about her.

"When I went to Raccoon City, I thought about your mom. She thinks I didn't, but I did." He muttered softly. He leaned back to the chair, "But once you see your first death, it's not even a normal death," Leon chuckled bitterly, "A zombie eating a person up. Zombies are trying to desperately kill you." He clenched his jaw as he thought about his shitty life.

"I know I should've called. I should've called her and told her I was fine, but I wanted to be a hero so badly. I volunteered to be one of their guys to be trained..." He closed his eyes. He could've just gone home. Gone back to your arms and forget, but it was too late to defend himself.

"I had a girlfriend - Ada, when I was in that life." Leon muttered softly, "I was desperately trying to search your mom in her." Poor Ada. Having to deal with his dumb issues, he caused himself.

"I got angry at her for not being her. I remember when she betrayed me, I was shocked because I knew your mother would never." He rubbed gently his wrist.

The kid turned to see Leon. It's as if Leon could feel the judgment of the kid, "I don't know what to say." The boy turned off his phone.

Leon nodded his head, "Your mom is allowed to hate me." He whispered softly, "I fell in love with another woman that wasn't her yet I begged her to be... her." Leon rubbed his mouth firmly. He wanted to shut the hell up. He didn't want this kid to actually have a valid reason to hate him.

"Don't be like me, kid." Leon muttered softly.

"Wasn't planning on it."

He heard footsteps and saw a guy with silver hair, "Um, hi." Leon crossed his legs. The kid groaned. Before Leon could wonder why your kid would groan at him, the kid muttered the word, "Dad, what are you doing here?"

What? This is the guy you married?

"Don't give me that look, it's the weekend, it's time for you to be with your dad."

Your son stood up. "I'll tell mom-" Before your son could mutter another word, you were already near the door. "Yeah," You forced a smile, "Don't worry about me, kiddo. Just go with dad. You have fun with him." You kissed your son's cheek. The son stood up straight and went outside with his father. Leon and you were only in your shop.

He sighed and you groaned.

"I didn't say anything." Leon defended himself. You turned to see him, "I know, I know your little mind is trying to figure out my life." You turned away from Leon and looked as your child left with his father. Your hands fumbled nervously to your pants' pockets, "The bike is almost done." You whispered softly.

Leon swallowed weakly, "T-that's good."

A small pregnant pause made the two think your life's. Thinking it through in all those picky details that you once not thought about. You are happy with your life, yet you wondered what would've happened if Leon stayed. Leon wasn't happy, but he accepted those details. He thought about him probably being the divorced husband. It was a bitter thought. You deserved a person who would stay with you. Not an unstable guy who was a functional alcoholic until now.

Leon stood up silently and looked at you.

You saw him.

"I'm sorry for leaving." He whispered softly.

"For fuck's sake," You laughed bitterly feeling all those same emotions, "I doubt you missed me, but I missed you." Leon's hands cupped your face, he didn't mind the oils or anything anymore. Sure, his ex girlfriend is still hot, but she looked so beautiful right now.

"I wished I did miss you, but I know I would've been worse." Leon muttered softly. He couldn't even imagine him living his life. He already hated his shitty life and remembering he failed you. But... he still did fail you.

Leon's eyes soften, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He leaned to finish the gap and kissed you. The kiss felt desperate from the two of you. You held him tightly as his lips moved against yours, very politely put his tongue between you two. You slowly pulled away from the kiss; the small feeling of feeling pathetic grew. So many years away from each other, yet his hands belong in your hips.

"I'm dirty." You whispered softly.

His heart clenched. He felt so stupid loving you even more with that simple mutter. "A date." Leon held your hands with his. "I need a date with you. Just you and me."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit.

Was it bad that nothing really changed between you two?

-

The date was in your house. You doubt this date will grow into a relationship, and it would be foolish if it did. Leon was still wearing a normal jacket and shirt underneath it. You prepared food and you two ate. He asked about your child, you answered, but you couldn't ask him about his life outside of you. He didn't want to make you know.

You washed the dirty dishes as Leon looked at you.

What if...

A married couple just enjoying time with each other, holding and appreciating each other. Leon sighed softly, "I love you." He whispered softly. "Thanks." You laughed softly. Your hands felt nervous, trembling a bit as they grabbed the rag to dry up the dishes. You had a question and you hoped he'll answer it.

"Who is Ada?"

Leon's breathing stopped, "Ada?" You heard his conversation with your kid. Your eyes fell down, "Was she important?"

He didn't like the next words coming to his mouth, "Yes, she was." Leon won't lie about that. Ada was the most normal thing in his life. Ada was more in his life than you ever were. You temporarily closed your eyes and felt the small buzzing feeling in your heart.

"I was truly stupid one, huh? Waiting for you." You turned to see Leon.

Leon looked down at his lap. He didn't know how to comfort you, and it felt like a horrible task.

The last time he saw you came into his mind.

You were kissing him repeatedly, and less than twenty-four hours, Ada Wong kissed him, and he couldn't say anything. It wasn't his fault for failing you there. But what came after... it was his fault.

"I fucked up." Leon forced himself to look at you, "I know I did, but you having your child. Having a life without me," Leon stood up, "Don't regret that." In the end, he got what he deserved. Then, for a moment, the idea of you being in Raccoon City, you dying... He would've hated himself even more.

Leon caressed your face again, "Please, I don't want you to regret your life."

"I just hate you." You mumbled pathetically.

"Then, hate me."

Leon and you looked at each other for a while. Before you can say anything else, Leon dropped to his knees and unbuttoned your jeans. "Hate me." His hands rubbed gently your thighs, the softness of your body remained, and he loved it. Being between your thighs was his heaven. He always thought of that. His tongue licked them a bit, and he gently opened your legs open and looked up at you.

Your breath was shakey for a bit before he licked your pussy. His breath and a bit of his teeth was felt, you shivered weakly, but he made the feelings grow a bit more. His hands traced your butt and went underneath your underwear to hold you tightly. His tongue slowly began to lick your folds, gently flicking his tongue in your opening.

"Leon-" Your voice was a different tone of pathetic.

Leon felt himself growing. Your taste... God, your taste... Leon looked up at you again and grasped your butt harsher.

He sucked a bit on your clit. He needed you so badly. You were his first love. You were his first everything.

His hands slowly pulled down your panties. He wanted to avoid crude language in a way. He wanted this to be romantic. He licked a line in your opening. His tongue flirted with your opening until the tip of his tongue was inside of you. You gasped weakly, "Leon..."

Your arousal made Leon grab you harsher. Holding you tightly as his tongue flicked in and out of you. Sucking your pussy and feeling safe again. Your legs almost failed you, and he grabbed you. His tongue moved a bit, sucking and licking your pussy. A small growl escaped his lip, licking your cunt was his only goal right now. You gasped weakly. You couldn't speak properly, but all Leon did was shoved himself deeper.

Your hands grabbed his hair, "Le- Leon." You gasped.

He looked at you, "I love you." Leon muttered softly before kissing you gently. He stood up and held you. "I love you." He kissed your cheek gently. Your eyes closed tightly, feeling exposed, "Can we go to my room?" You asked. Leon nodded his head, he lifted you up in ease. You kicked down your jeans and panties, you needed to remember to pick those up later. Leon walked upstairs, his eyes were focused on you and on his destination.

Slowly and gently placed you on the bed, Leon smiled at the view, "Always beautiful." He muttered softly.

Your head turned away, your cheeks were feeling that flushing sensation. All your blood was on your face with those simple words.

Leon grinned. His fingers quickly unbuttoned his jeans. His hands rubbed his cock, "Do, do you have a condom?" Leon asked softly. You shook your head, you haven't had a one night stand for so long that you didn't have the things ready.

He pouted, "Guess we are doing the college route." The quick fuck and the slip it out.

Leon slid down his boxers, his hands grabbed his cock, "I got better with the pull out." He promised you.

"Sure." You couldn't help but chuckle.

He pressed the tip of his cock on your folds. Leon bit on his lower lip and rubbed his pre cum around your clit. You whined, "L-Leon..." Leon growled softly, "Missed my pretty girl." His cock moved around your folds until he pressed it against your clit. The pre cum was spilling pathetically, Leon's free hand grabbed your hip that kept twitching.

Begging.

Slowly, the tip of his cock opened you up. Your hole was ready for him, he pushed himself deep and deep. Slow and gentle for you.

It had been a while since you slept with someone. Your hands patted your bed and grabbed your covers, "Fuck." Even your voice was pathetic. A pathetic whine that made Leon growl, he pushed his hips until all of him was in you. Your warmth made him want to cum. "I love you." Leon whispered softly.

He began to move, his hips moved away and in; Leon leaned close to you and gasped his air into your lips. His hands caressed your thighs and forced them a bit more open, Leon wanted you.

Leon was never meant to be a rough lover. His stupid life made his mind think everything was cruel, but your whines made him want him to nicer. Leon's eyes met yours. His hips moved faster. Those small facial reactions, your eyes wanting to close and the way your nose twitched a bit.

His hands gently folded your legs against your stomach.

Those small sexual noises were small plops. His hand grabbed your face and caressed your cheeks and neck. He was gone for so long and...

"Why- why are you crying?" You asked.

Leon didn't even notice it. He smiled, "I, I d-don't know." His hand traveled down your hips and caressed your stomach. The new and old details of your skin just made him miss you despite having you close.

Your hands caressed his cheeks and pulled him close. Those gentle kisses were he can melt and turn into nothing. His thrusts turned faster now, he sucked your bottom lip and pulled away. "I need you." Leon muttered weakly. His hands grabbed your hips and thrusted faster. You grabbed the back of his head, "I need you too." You agreed with his words.

Was it lust? Was it the painful feeling of being separated away?

This felt odd. Even the sex you once shared with each other never felt this desperate.

He wasn't going to pull out. His empty promise showed more as he growled weakly, "I have to..." Leon looked at you again and kissed you. His tongue entered your mouth, he licked evert detail... begging. Needing.

Leon groaned and finally came. You hissed softly as you finished as well. He didn't know what else to do but hug you. He didn't want to leave anymore.

[syoddeye]

the warren, part six - natural

price x f!reader | 5.9k words | series page | ao3 tags: background ghoap, italicized flashbacks, skinny dipping, bathing, oral f!receiving, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, darkfic. a/n: fireworks followed by fireworks. shout out to early and the arrangement. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

This must be what it feels like to open a tomb.

Fetid air sweeps over your cheeks. Warm and stagnant, smelling of earth and metal.

The room is maybe eight by ten feet and sinks another six down to an unfinished floor of exposed dirt and rock. Thin pipes run from under the floorboards and into the wall, disappearing further underground. An empty, dusty stack of wooden shelves stands bolted to the cement walls. You’d think it’s an old root cellar—if it weren’t for the door.

Four paneled. Old and weathered yet sturdy looking. You don’t dare hop into the pit to test the heavy lock affixed to it; no way you could climb out.

You take a photo, shut the hidden hatch, and smooth the rug over it.

It’s nothing. Has to be. Kate would’ve told you about it if it mattered. You haul the couch over it anyway and tuck into bed with a knife. In the small hours, you decide to call the landlady at breakfast, perhaps Phil too, for good measure.

~~

“Oh, that? Old storm cellar.” Kate sounds amused, as if your trepidation is a cute joke. “The Warrens were originally from Tornado Alley. Hated storms. Brought that hate with them.”

“Where does the door lead?”

“A storage room. I emptied it.”

You lean against the counter, staring at the rug with your thumb caught between your teeth in thought. Since your arrival, you’ve seen two storms of note. Thunder and lightning, but nothing like the furies that roll over the Great Lakes, the ones that rattled the shutters and windows or leaked from cracks in the ceiling. Certainly no tornadoes. You, of all people, know what it is to carry a fear. A hatred.

“Everything alright?”

You fish for reassurance. “Yes. I feel silly, that’s all.”

The hook goes ignored. “Mhm.” 

“Guess I’ll move the couch back.” You laugh, apologize for troubling her, and leave the couch where it sits.

You don’t call Phil. You’d sound ridiculous.

Later, you sneak some extra work in, at least you try to. A mechanical whir putters then skips. You swear a wisp of smoke leaks from the disk drive. The old laptop that could, no more. Rendered a fossil, unresponsive to your troubleshooting. Frustration burns your belly, whittling your patience to naught. It fractures at the ring of your phone.

“Yes?” You snap, instantly searing yourself with the white-hot brand of guilt. “I’m so sorry, hello?”

John chuckles. “Bad time?”

“John. Oh, no. I–I’m not scheduled today, am I?”

“No, you’re alright. Shop’s slow, so I thought I’d check in.” He pauses. “If you’re busy, I can chat later.”

“I’m not. Unexpectedly so,” you shove your laptop off your lap, rising from bed. You stretch and pace to the kitchen. “Mind if I keep you company? See the kittens?” Best clear your head.

“I’d be delighted.”

~~

The kittens are feral. You know this, yet their instinctive rejection smarts. From a sun-bleached lawn chair, you watch them tussle and spar in the shade of John’s building. Their mother, the first time you’ve seen her, lounges on the welcome mat. She’s a proud creature. Big and gray like a storm cloud.

You haven’t come around to John’s understanding concerning the cats. The queen tolerates one of her kittens, nearly too old to nurse, as it tries to latch. You wonder if the baby’s a female. If she, like her mother, will fall pregnant in a few months. If she’ll end up with an unseasonably late litter, born to frost and snow rather than wildflowers and sunlight.

“Beautiful thing,” John observes, emerging from the garage with an ice-cold soda. He slots it in your hand and plants himself in the chair beside you. “Mama and her babies.”

“It’s something.”

“They’ll be off on their own soon. They’ll do fine.”

“And if not?” If one of the area’s predators doesn’t get to them, the road awaits.

“Then that’s that. Nature takes its course.”

You hate that he’s not wrong. Falling prey to a beast or an accident is simply what happens to creatures like the kittens. You chew your lip, thinking of how immutable that truth might’ve been once, but now? With the means to prevent all the unnecessary heartache? Knowing John’s attitude on man’s interference, you don’t voice it. Knowing your own.

You catch him staring. There’s something in the way his eyes linger. A quiet intensity that betrays the hunger he’s set aside for your benefit. Unspoken but raw. Crude. It claws at you as much as it does him.

Later, in the shower, you reacquaint yourself with your softer parts. You rouse a lovely pressure but fumble. It slips through your fingers and down the drain with the water.

~~

Your first inventory trip to Ponderosa arrives. The ride is more pleasant than the last, and John shoos you away to the library when you try to help at the town depot. He warns you it’s a lot of dull conversation and lifting, so you slink off.

The whole town’s decorated for the Fourth. Its two hotels are bursting at the seams, sidewalk patios filled with folk. A shuttle to a resort ten minutes away stops in front of the coffee shop, making the decision to delay your visit for you.

The Ponderosa Public Library is cozy and welcoming. The gleaming white stone floor of the entrance lends a hallowedness. Phil Graves’s drawl drifts through your head at the sight of a local history display positioned near the front, but the honeyed voice of the librarian hooks your attention. Draped in a floor-length cardigan, the kindly older woman eagerly waves you in. She’s thrilled to register you with a temporary card when you inquire.

“I can count on one hand how many visitors have signed up this summer. Two!” She laughs. “Your name?”

~~~

In the pre-dawn stillness of the desert, the landscape is a vast, empty stretch painted in muted hues of gray and indigo. Hints of morning light graze the earth and highway, devoid of traffic aside from the occasional tumbleweed. The openness feels expansive yet intimate. Alien, yet familiar. Desolation and your lonely home of some years. Where life makes the best of it. The most stability you’ve ever known.

You arrive in town five minutes past seven.

Passing the gas station, you keep your head down and ring hand displayed to let the synthetic gemstone reflect the sun. It doesn’t stop one trucker from leaning out of his cab with an appreciative whistle.

The library’s office light is on, so you knock on the staff entrance. Robin lets you in thirty seconds later, chattering on about a game show. You clean the bathrooms while she prepares the rest of the branch to open. You finish with minutes to spare and settle at the boxy computer that keeps your back to a wall.

The usual patrons file and out in as you send a dozen inquiry emails to writing gigs and delete rejections. You write a father of the bride speech for $50, your biggest job yet. Every sentence is a penny, and pennies add up. You’ll have enough for the car, gas, and computer in a few months. Everything is planned out and locked safely away in your head, except for one detail.

You traipse slowly along the geography shelf, hand poised like a dowsing rod, waiting for a feeling. Your fingers brush a spine and shiver. Idaho Cities and Townships. Paging to the index, you trace your finger down the list like you’re looking for the right scripture in church. The psalm to sing. Something pulls your finger to a place called Grouse Bay. It burrows under your skin and nails. Hope. 

~~~

You revere librarians. They’re the only people you’ve met who never pry, lest it be to help you. Jeanne, the librarian of this particular branch, leaves you to peruse without hovering. The bangles on her arms clink together like a bell on a cat. She minds herself until you approach the checkout with a short stack.

“Excellent choices, sweetie. These’ll keep you plenty company.” She scans them, apprising you of the upcoming fireworks, but abruptly pauses. Her eyes stare past you. “Are you expecting a handsome fella? A Brawny Man lookalike?”

From outside, John waves with a smile. You return both. “I am.”

She whistles low and slides the books to you with a knowing look. “I take it back. He’ll be plenty of company.”

Outside, John hooks a finger in your tote the moment you’re within reach and peers inside. Nosy. 

“A couple of romances, nothing you’d like.”

“That so? You don’t think I’d like…The Arrangement?” 

You bat at his hand, clutching your haul and tilting away as you walk. “I highly doubt it.”

A waggish grin lights up his face. If the man on the front cover of that particular text bears a resemblance to him, it’s pure coincidence.

On the ride home, his hand inches over your thigh. You let it rest and take another long shower.

You still can’t scratch the itch.

~~

Despite John’s preparations, the Fourth of July cleans the grocer out of booze, cigarettes, and just about everything else. The store shuts after lunch, and he talks you into a boat ride. 

“I didn’t know you owned a boat.”

“I don’t,” He hefts a cooler onto the tailgate, the last stash of crusher beer inside. “Kate does. Nik just patched her up.”

“Wish he’d fix my car.” Nikolai mentioned the part was delayed two weeks and blamed a train derailment further West. 

Kate’s home is an aging two-story half a mile down the lakeside road. Two juniper trees bracket the entrance, with twin rows of bluebells and dogbane lining the path. Her Ranger sits under a carport, flanked by a muddy ATV and an old Bronco.

You shoulder your bag and walk to the rear of John’s truck, studying the unfamiliar vehicles. “Who else is joining us?”

“Hello, rabbit.” A gruff voice purrs. Outdoors, Simon looks larger than life with no fixture or frame to duck. His muscles bulge under a black t-shirt, the skin on his arms more bronzed than his face. However, as he steps directly behind you, leaning over you to grab the cooler, you see faint tan lines around his eyes.

You whip around to face the cab, trying to not look so obvious with your failed escape attempt, and see John’s mouth flatten. Simon’s chest brushes and bumps your back, pelvis ghosting your hip as he effortlessly hauls the packed cooler over your head. The smell of burnt rubber, oil, and sweat is fleeting but intense.

“How’s the boat?” John slams his door. You flinch and hastily close the rear gate. 

“Glorified sardine tin.” Simon clears his throat and spits, then jerks his head. “C’mon.”

You follow in silence, crossing the road and descending a creaky staircase built into the slope of the hillside leading to the lake. Kate’s boat is bigger than you imagined, a double-decker pontoon. She and Nik stand at the mooring fixed to an aluminum dock, and as you step onto the last shallow flight, a man emerges from the cabin.

His grin is a crescent set on a chiseled jaw and hard to look away from. He isn’t as tall as Simon, but cuts just as imposing of a figure with wide shoulders and thick arms. He bounds closer, greeting the three of you like an excitable dog. Simon passes by, mumbling something that makes the man straighten and lock on to you with eyes an unnerving shade of blue, cynoid. Nothing like John’s.

John gently nudges you ahead and supplies your name. “And this is Soap. He’s Simon’s partner.”

Partner. That’s not as comforting as you want it to be. “Soap?”

An accent wraps around his words, catching you off guard. “Aye. Soap. Heard a lot about ye.”

“Good things I hope?”

He leans, voice dropping into a conspiratorial but genial whisper. “Plenty. Though if ye got a naughty streak, I won’t tell.”

The breeze off the lake doesn’t abate the heat his compliment evokes. A whiff of acetone blends with mint wafts off him, but it’s his nostrils that flare. He’s sniffing you. “I don’t–”

“Soap!” Simon barks.

“Chat later.” He whispers, then answers Simon’s call, disappearing with his counterpart.

A bit dazed, you greet Kate, and she steers you aboard. John unmoors the boat with Nik muttering in his ear, and you’re shown the prime seat at the bow. Kate takes the helm, and within minutes, the pontoon putters away from shore to join the dozens of vessels dotting the lake. Simon and Soap return with armfuls of bottles and cans, someone turns the satellite radio on, and John fits himself to your side. You don’t know the last time you celebrated the Fourth, and here you are, toasting two Brits, a Scot, and a Russian. If there’s a punchline, you hope to find it.

A flask eventually appears. You refuse, watching Soap’s mouth pucker in disgust and Nikolai drinking deep like it’s water. John squeezes your shoulder, his arm draping over you with his thigh pressed to yours.

He murmurs, “Why don’t you go see Kate? Get some girl talk in?” 

Kate doesn’t seem the type for girl talk, but how the others seem to hold their breath at John’s suggestion propels you to your feet.

You find Kate atop the upper deck, sprawled with a book and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. The boat rides the wake of passing speedboats, forcing you to crawl and sit cross-legged. You barely hear the men below save for another toast.

“Too much for you, huh?” Kate asks, taking a drag.

It’s a conscious decision to not mention girl talk. “Yep. They’re…a lot.”

She snorts and lets the conversation wither early on the vine, probably for the best. She is your landlord.

Basking in the sun, you drink your warming beer and watch the water. Listen to the whoops and hollers across the lake.

When your father moved you across state lines to a ramshackle home perched atop a steep hill, you often crept onto the roof to do just this. They called that lake an unsalted sea, vast and untamed. Choppy with whitecaps and an unfathomable shade of blue, always darker than the sky above. You lived in fear of it, listening dutifully when your father carped on your morbid fascination. He banned you from trekking to its shores.

As a child, he suffered visions of you getting swept up by a rogue wave. You believed him, wanting him to care. As a teenager, you wondered if it was his way of protecting you from the men who prowled the docks, the boogeymen in the dark. His tacit acknowledgment of your growing older. Now, a thousand miles and a lifetime away, you know it’s because he simply didn’t want another prisoner to escape.

The first man whose love you wanted tried to trap you with water. The second dragged you to a desert. Looking down at John, your stomach twists. The third time’s a charm. He’s not like them.

“Rabbit.” Soap’s shaggy head pokes over the deck’s edge. “Mind if I join?”

Kate turns a page, you scoot, and Soap hoists himself up.

“So. You and John. What’s that like?” He laughs at your wince. “C’mon. Dinnae be shy. Been a minute since someone’s turned his head.”

“It’s…new.”

“New. Aye. Steamy? At eachother like–”

“Christ,” Kate grumbles, suddenly rocking up to a seated position, simultaneously stubbing out her cigarette as she slides to the edge. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Soap snickers. “Dinnae mind her.”

Sensing a sliver of an opening, you redirect. “John said you and Simon were partners. How long have you been together?”

“Years, I reckon. Hard to picture life before him. I was a mess. Workin’ at his shop’s done me good.”

“Oh, I thought you were partner partners.”

He grins. “No, yer not mistaken. We’re partners in business an’ bed.” 

With a gentle dig, his elbow finds your ribs, and you feign an affable chuckle into your drink. The cheap beer’s too tepid to stomach, but you swallow, hide a grimace and push on. “What brought you here?”

Soap rolls his shoulders and finally casts his gaze elsewhere. “Wanted to see the world. I was an artist. I fucked off from home at sixteen an’ never returned. Wandered for years. Traveled all over.”

Sixteen. Incomprehensible. Not that eighteen was much better, but you weren’t alone. 

“And you stopped here?” You came to Grouse Bay to hide. Picked it at random. To think someone else did the same seems kismet.

“I ken. Ye probably think I’m daft. Of all the places I’ve seen, how come fuckin’ Idaho? Of all places? I dinnae. Set its hooks in me.” He glances at Simon. “Love’s got a way of changing people, aye? Transformin’ them. It could be ye, putting down roots next.”

The comment nips your soft underbelly. You pivot again. “Did you paint? Do you still create art?”

Soap turns. “Nae so much anymore. I mostly draw. Dipped my toes into painting, but too much to carry. The art I make nowadays…It’s gruesome.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Taxidermy. ‘S what Simon and I do,” His eyebrows shoot up, teeth flashing in a puckish smile. “Ye didnae ken?”

Revulsion tightens your throat. “I didn’t.”

He bites his lower lip, clearly eager to fan your disgust like a fire. A hairbreadth of control keeps his mouth shut long enough to rethink it. Instead, his focus drifts once more to his partner. 

Despite the acidity lapping at your throat, curiosity opens your mouth. “Do you know how Simon came to Grouse Bay?”

Soap’s lips press tightly together, enough to sap their color, then bend into a brief scowl. Without warning, he stands and rips his shirt off in one smooth movement. He tosses it, crows a complaint about the heat, and doesn’t look over the upper deck before launching off the pontoon.

Howls of laughter erupt, but surprise tethers you in place until John calls your name. Apparently, a sunset dip is tradition.

Ducking into the cabin under the premise of changing, you whisper to Kate, “I don’t have a swimsuit. John didn’t tell me about swimming.”

“He must’ve,” Kate quarters a lemon on the tiny counter and tucks a wedge into the bottle’s narrow mouth. She shoves it through with a thumb and licks the pad. “Nobody will bat an eye if you go in your underwear.”

“I’m not–that’s too–”

“You’re shy. That’ll pass. I’ll tell John you need his shirt.” She’s gone before you can argue.

A short eternity squeezes into less than a minute. John appears in the doorway, and beyond him, you hear Nikolai’s deep laugh.

“Kate says you’re shy.”

“I’m not shy.”

“Well, I’ve come to give you this just in case.” 

You thought you’d see John shirtless for the first time under different circumstances. Not in a cramped boat cabin, surrounded by his drunk friends. Your chest tightens. All the muscle you’ve only glimpsed and imagined is there in front of you. A torso sculpted by labor and practicality, rugged with scars and fat cushioning his stomach. And, to your delight, decently hirsute. His hand drops to his belt.

“Shirt’s yours. Need me to turn around?”

It feels more intimate than any kiss he’s given you, and it seems a test. You muster your nerve, set aside caution, and peel off your dress.

“Blue and white. Festive.”

“And you’re in green.”

He kicks off his jeans with a shrug. “Not my birthplace, and not for long.”

Standing at the stern, you entertain second and third thoughts, toying with the shirt’s hem. John waits in the water, expectant. You catch a flash of white—he’s nude. Toward the bow, you hear the others. They’re all nude.

“What about Kate?” You ask, voice warbling with uncertainty. 

“Kate never joins. She watches.”

“Watches?”

“For other boats. Voyeurs. Threats.”

You feel stupid for asking.

The shock of the cold water hits like a full-body slap, stealing your breath and sending a sharp jolt through your limbs. Arms wrap around you as you surface, and the scruff of John’s beard scrapes the juncture of your neck, chin pushing the wet shirt aside to briefly suck your neck. It’s sudden, it’s a lot, knowing what’s behind your back—

“John!” You sputter indignantly, giggling nervously as his broad hands slide to squeeze your hips. 

“Gimme a second.” He noses your wet skin and plants a few kisses before relinquishing his hold. “Sorry, sweetheart. Hard to keep my hands off you when you look so good.”

Sufficiently flustered, you promptly forgive him. “It’s fine. Just not in front of the others, please.”

“Right,” he chuckles and pinches your bottom as he paddles past. “She’s shy.”

Affronted, you swim after him.

As much as you hate to admit, Kate was right—your shyness melts with the sun’s slow descent. You spend the rest of the daylight in and out of the water, racing the men and learning to automatically avert your eyes from their frankly proud nakedness. By the time evening falls, you’re worn out, dressed, and idle as you munch on a sandwich Kate packed. It feels surreal. The entire day. Breathtakingly normal despite the skinny dipping.

Not weird, just different.

Eventually, everyone finds their place for the fireworks. You nestle into John’s side, swapping your towel for a blanket. He’s still bare-chested, shirt drying over an empty seat. It’s natural, resting your head on his shoulder. Fits perfectly. Simon, Soap, and Nikolai climb to the roof. Kate reclines in the captain’s chair. Beneath the cotton weave, John’s hand strokes your knee, and the other rests across your shoulders. The conversations lull as the whole lake seems to hold its breath.

Flashes of red and white burst overhead, their reflections shimmering over the rippling, dark water. Blue sparks spill in glittering arcs, lighting the night sky in meteoric explosions. Cheers from across the lake erupt alongside them. John’s hold doesn’t lax. For nearly an hour, he keeps you close, palm searing your skin. Your attention strays from the show, instead admiring his crow’s feet, the mole on his nose, and the silver woven into his beard. The fireworks cast a glow, making him look almost ethereal. Not angelic, otherworldly. The lines and marks on his skin map to places you’ve never been. Never thought you’d go.

The sky returns to an unbroken, inky black, the scent of sulfur settling in a fog. Kate ferries you to land, and you disembark ahead of John with his keys. In the drive, you pop the tailgate and then load your things into the passenger seat. 

“Bunny.”

You turn to see Soap hauling the cooler, huffing and puffing a bit. The thing’s empty, so he must’ve hurried up the stairs. He crosses the road, tossing his burden into the truck. 

“Bunny?”

He shakes his head. “Must’ve misheard. Said ‘bonnie’. Endearment of sorts. Listen, I was hopin’ to get another chance to speak with ye. You’re a good time when you let loose.”

“Thank you. I haven’t in a while. Felt nice.”

“I can tell. Simon said ye were wound tight. He frighten ye?”

To the core of your being. A congenital fear. You swallow it. “No.”

“Really? Big fella scares me.” Soap pitches his voice low. He casually stretches and grips the window crank, effectively caging you into the wedge of the door. His nostrils widen like earlier, pupils dilating in the light. “Now. Need ye to tell me somethin’. Been eatin’ me all day, and I cannae be a dog and put my nose wherever I’d like. Gotta be good.”

Instantly, ropes harness your thoughts, prepared to draw and quarter them into the bleakest parts of imagination. The desert, the inland sea. 

The plastic handle creaks under his grip as he forces the words out between his teeth. “Did ye find—”

“Johnny.” Simon. Soap immediately reels backward, tugged by an invisible thread. 

“Here, sir!”

Sir? Johnny? 

“ATV. Now.” 

Soap doesn’t so much as spare a parting glance, obediently scurrying to the four-wheeler. You stare, dumbfounded, and jump when the driver-side door creaks. John smiles wryly, his shirt adorning his neck like a damp scarf. The trail of hair disappearing into his waistband is a momentary distraction from the brute stalking beyond the windshield. Simon’s scarred flesh is a beacon in the moonlight. His heavy brow focused solely on the man perched atop his vehicle. You hear him seething, growling under his breath at Soap—Johnny—and John’s door shuts.

“C’mon, sweetheart. They’re alright.” He coaxes you into the cab, patting your knee with a sigh. “Lover’s quarrel. Simon’s a jealous man.”

“Jealous,” you echo, gawking at the two men outside. “Of me?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” John starts the truck and lowers his window. He leans out some as Nik and Kate share a smoke at the end of her walk. “Night, Kate. Nikolai.”

Nikolai leers behind his cigarette, gesturing with it in your direction. A few words of Russian escape with the smoke, a throaty laugh on their heels. Kate looks impassive. Bored. Her house disappears in the rearview. A restiveness itches under your skin, exacerbated by the quiet crackling of the radio. Your head’s a crowded place. The silence’s a good place to unburden it.

“So. Soap’s real name is Johnny?”

John chuckles. “Nobody but Simon calls him that, but you didn’t think it was Soap, did you?”

“I’m assuming it’s to keep things less confusing.”

“Correct. I actually employed him for a spell, when he arrived. Earned the name ‘Soap’ on account of his mouth. Needless to say, his career in retail was brief. Kept flirtin’ with the customers.”

“And he got with Simon?” 

“Simon swept him off his feet.”

You scoff. “That’s difficult to believe.”

“Simon has his ways.”

Nothing in your short, tense encounters suggests Simon to be a man capable of love or romance. You doubt it is uncharitable to think so, either. Ferine and rude, calculated and off-putting. Everything he does aims to disarm by making the very air around him feel heavy and wrong, whereas Soap seems keen to impress upon you his friendliness, conveying himself as human conciliation. ‘Opposites attract’ has limits. 

Yet.

“Soap said love has a way of changing people.”

John hums in agreement. “Most powerful force there is.”

Can’t argue with that. Force for good or otherwise, though—that you may dispute.

You don’t tell him to, but he shuts the truck off in the drive. Cats scatter as he escorts you, voicing their displeasure at your late arrival. Under the exterior light, you fumble with your keys, his gaze heavy on your cheek. In the time it takes to turn the lock, you berate yourself. Plead with a jury close to hanging.

It’s swimming all over again. Are you shy? Timid? Are you allowing the long, creeping reach of your abandoned husband to touch you before you let John try? The verdict passes your lips.

“Won’t you come in?”

“It’s late.”

“Please come in.”

It takes two invitations to coax John Price into the cabin and a third to the shower. 

A shuddering sigh of relief comes with removing your underwear and dress. The freedom from wet cotton eclipses the nervousness that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The urge to cover yourself in front of the man who is not your husband sings loud, nearly shrieking when he brushes his knuckles down your arm and gently turns you around. He starts the water, returning to press his front to your back, the slight tackiness of lakewater and sweat melding you together. His fingertips run a track from your flanks to the sides of your breasts, a hum buzzing into the skin of your shoulder when you grasp the counter.

When Dusty—No. No. He’s not here. John is. 

You banish the venomous guilt that tries to unseat your want and let John tug you into the shower to wash the day off.

He’s hard for most of it, his swollen cock skimming your hips and ass, glancing over your belly, and nearly driving the strength from your legs. He seems unfazed, reverent, and single-minded in his self-imposed task. It’s embarrassing, the way you squirm and fidget at every touch. Difficult to tell if it’s arousal or the unfamiliarity of intimacy.

John takes your place under the spray and chuckles softly when you finally look down. His fingers scrub through his body hair to the thatch at his cock’s root. You suck in a breath. He’s proportional—thick, heavy, and flushed. Hangs between the two of you, untouched, but you know it would burn your hand. Your tongue. The dizzying rush from that last thought alone reassures you because you don’t remember the last time you knelt because you wanted to.

Neither of you dress. Both of you barely dry. He insists on a light, hovering at the bedside lamp until you nod. When he climbs onto the bed, murmuring little nothings, your blood’s roaring in your ears, drowning out his encouragement. He opens your legs for a good look, but he might as well wrench open your ribcage. 

“Quite the sight.” John whispers. His palms slide from your knees to your upper thighs, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking where your thighs meet your pelvis. 

You imagine fastening an anchor to your brain, then a lure. Stay here, stay focused. 

“Yeah?”

His eyes flick to yours, narrowing as he reads into the single word. “Yeah. Beautiful.” He slowly slides and sinks to kiss your thighs, positioning himself between your legs. His shoulders stretch them further, and an arm snakes around and pulls you closer all too easily, hand groping a greedy handful. His breath hits where it’s wet, coarse hair tickling skin.

The first contact rips a sharp breath from you, which he immediately meets with a hum that buzzes to the base of your spine. The fingers on your thighs brush soothingly as he continues, jaw pressing further. His mouth latches, tongue dipping lower and in, laving along your entrance before circling to your clit. Each stroke and circuit deliberate, adjusting to the sounds spilling uninhibited from your mouth. Your hands reach and thread into his hair with a moan.

He groans softly into your flesh, nosing the fat above your sex, chuckling when your hips pitch. His hand travels up your quivering inner thigh to ease a finger in, pulling away to sink it into the first knuckle with a wet sound. 

“Look at you.” John sounds wrecked, beard and chin drenched in spit and slick, tongue licking the excess from his lip. Eyes boring into you with that look again. Unmasked hunger, barely tethered. The one you touched yourself to in the shower.

“Smelled you all day, smelled this,” He emphasizes with a pump of his finger, kissing your clit at the strangled, small noise you make. “Leaking into your pants, even after a swim. Nearly laid you out right there, during the fireworks.” 

A filthy whine erupts at the thought. You picture it vividly. John tearing your dress off of you, hauling you to the floor of the boat. Nik and Kate and Simon and Soap—all of them watching John mount you, ignoring the spectacle for a different show. Would any of them intervene? Would you want them to?

You clench at the thought, and he smirks.

He introduces a second finger alongside the first, hushing your reedy whimpers at the stretch. “The needy thing knew I was near. Knew that I could scent her crying out for me. Poor thing, neglected and mistreated. Needed a man to fuss over her.”

Your face grows somehow hotter. Not enough that you’re naked and under him, he needs to strip you bare and sweetly flay you alive. “John—”

He cuts you off, tutting. “Don’t be embarrassed—it’s natural for a man to want his mate.”

His fingers plunge to the webbing, ratcheting up to earnestly fuck you now that he’s teased you into incoherency. “Never gonna leave you lonely,” he rasps, tucking his mouth back over your pearled clit. 

Every year, the lake ice cracks and fractures with the arrival of spring. This is no different.

Muscles flexing and fluttering, dimly aware of the praises he murmurs against your cunt, you shatter. 

He doesn’t withdraw his fingers until you score his scalp and beg, and even then they slide over your slit, cupping the slippery folds of your pussy. He kisses and wipes his cum-soaked whiskers over your spasming thighs and stomach, his free hand planting beside you. John looms, pleased but not quite sated. 

He pets your cunt and waits for the worst of your trembling to cease. “Perfect,” he affirms, giving it a wet pat. He grunts, then abruptly knocks your legs open a second time with a knee, removing his hand to slick his cock.

Your eyes bulge, vision clearing in an instant at the view. Sat ignored for too long, his cock flushes a deeper shade of red, precome clinging to it like wax and seeping into his hair. He wraps his hand around the thick of himself, shuddering, eyes screwing shut as he strokes.

You think your orgasm might’ve knocked something loose. You reach a shaking hand and touch his knee. 

“J-John? I-I can’t…I can’t, not yet.” You are selfishness incarnate, asking him to quash his hunger once more. 

His eyes snap open. His pupils drill into you, flitting between your twitching cunt, his cockhead, and your face. Stygian and starving. 

“I’m sorry. Please.” 

He swallows, chest heaving with his unwhetted appetite, its festering close to spoiling. For a moment, fear poleaxes you into the mattress when he shuffles on his knees closer anyway, knees pushing under your thighs. 

“Not yet? That’s…okay,” John breathes raggedly. He nods, fisting his cock faster. His free hand glides from the valley of your breasts to your stomach, tracing a circle. “We’ll get there, sweetheart…Can I…?” 

Biting your lip, you nod.

He sighs, hips bucking slightly. “You’ll be taking my cock in no time. No tears, now. Wipe ‘em off.”

You obey immediately, not having realized you’d started crying, and see his cock jump in his hand at that.

John chuckles a little brokenly, struggling to speak through gritted teeth. “Soon, I can feel it. Gonna empty that head of yours, weed out what’s holding you back, and fill you, fuck, here.” His fingers press over your womb, and he jerks forward. Hot ropes of come shoot out, coating his fingers and your skin. He rocks into his fist a few more times, the motions stuttering, until leisurely sinking back to his haunches. 

After he withdraws and returns to clean you up, wiping the sweat off your brow before the cum on your belly, he tucks the both of you into bed. He turns off the lamp and claims the side closest to the door. He spoons you with his heartbeat to your spine.

Staring into the night beyond the window, you apologize again.

“I want to. I really want to.”

“I know, darl. I know.” He kisses your shoulder. “What did I say? We’ll get there.”

He falls asleep wrapped around you. You, however, lie awake trying to remember what it is to share a bed with someone willingly. With someone who wants you. 

Eventually, you wriggle out a hand and grab your phone, dimming its brightness all the way down. You haven’t checked it since work and swipe to your messages. A text from an unknown number sits at the top of your notifications.

>> F741 >> hold

[brokenpieces-72]

Stray

Task force 141 x dog! reader

Author note: in this story, you are 100% dog. Not a hybrid (unless we’re talking mixed breed), not a half human half dog. You are a full on dog. Think Lassie or Littlest Hobo. With that in mind, enjoy.

Let me know if you want to added to the Taglist.

The 141 are taking some time straightening out the base, doing general tasks. Ghost is fixing up some jeeps, changing the oil, making sure the engine is working properly, and loading it up with the proper gear. Soap is doing some inventory stuff, after going through weapons he was asked to help in the kitchen, assisting with meal prep. Gaz has a similar task but it was more based on an accident from another soldier who spilled a couple storage totes of ammunition. He had to sort all of them with the soldier’s help. Price was having to go over some files and paperwork that Laswell had sent over to review and fill, as well as writing some reports.

You wander on to base by sheer accident. You overhear noise and strange smells in the garage. The bay doors are open for Ghost’s safety, as he does need to turn on the engines from time to time (carbon monoxide). You wander in and sniff around curiously, while Ghost is under a vehicle lying on a creeper. Your nose picks up his scent, but it’s very faint from all the stronger ones. Instead you find the toolbox more interesting than the oddly masked man in the black t shirt and overalls. You find an odd metallic tasting stick and bite down on it to pick it up. For a while you try chewing it before getting fed up and shaking your head around. The tool gets out of your grip and flies across the room, hitting the metal walls. The loud bang startles you and you bolt from the garage. The lieutenant rolls out from under the vehicle, to inspect the sudden bang. He looks over and sees the torque wrench across the room. Once he gets to his feet to retrieve it, you’ve long since bolted out of there and into another part of the base. Eventually you smell something else. Food? You notice a couple soldiers hauling cargo towards the base kitchen. Not wanting to be spotted you follow them and duck behind the crates waiting for the soldiers to leave before slipping inside. Once you see an opening you wander in and sniff around looking for what you’re sure is meat. At this point though you would take any scraps, your mouth visibly drooling. At this point Soap has been getting the meat cooked and you smell the remaining juices on his hands. You’re tucked behind an island counter, watching him work away. Soap finishes prepping the steaks and gets them seasoned and laid on foil for them to cook later. You still smell those mouthwatering, delicious smells of prepped steaks as he walks to another spot in the kitchen. Then you hear running water, and small something else. No no no, the smell is disappearing! Where did the meat go? Did he wash it down the sink?!

Soap finishes washing his hands and goes to another part of the kitchen where a couple of soldiers are sitting around an emptied box with a few other boxes with potatoes inside. Soap is glad he wore his comfortable cargo pants today cause the chairs were not gonna be comfortable to sit on for long periods. He got a new apron, discarding the old on in a bin. It didn’t hold the same smell, to your disappointment. But those potatoes would do. You just needed to get them away from the boxes. You’d learned from experience that kitchen staff don’t like when you take their food, even when you beg nicely. Soap puts a new apron on, not wanting to get wet stains on his grey shirt, if he missed the box.

You wait patiently, which isn’t really patient. It feels like forever that they’re peeling potatoes but you know more people might come, and you’re really hungry. This would have to be a grab ‘n grub. You eye one potatoe, and it goes into soldier’s hand. Okay not that one. That potatoe then, nope another soldier took it. Dang it. They kept grabbing them before you could lock on to a proper target. Screw it, you’re hungry. As soon as Soap takes out the potato from the box, locked in conversation with the others you make your move. You bolt out of the hiding spot, and snatch the food from his hand, just getting his fingers a bit. Soap looks down, only seeing an oddly shaped mass coming towards him out of the corner of his eye. He isn’t fast enough though to stop you from getting your target, and snatching it from his hand and running off out of the kitchen. You do knock over some boxes and cause a soldier to stumble while Soap is still reeling from what just happened.

Finally you’ve got some food! Your tail is wagging while you’re bounding across the base with joy, looking for somewhere to eat. It’s a little difficult as your stunt got you in a some trouble, so soldiers are looking around to figure out what happened. Nothing to high security but it’s clear you’ve cause a bit of a disturbance and you hear the soldier barking and shouting to figure out where you are. While he’s outside you best go inside and you find another door open, this one leading into the big building. You duck around corners and into rooms as you look for a safe spot. Soon you find one just outside a storage room. The potato is nothing compared to the meat Soap had been making but it would suffice. You continue eating, chewing away until you notice a couple men leaving the room. Not noticing you laying on the floor with a potato you go back to it until you hear someone sighing inside the room. Thankfully you’re able to finish your potato and lick up the rest before peeking inside and noticing Gaz sorting cartridges. They were pretty much everywhere with one right by your paws at the door. Gaz was sitting on a bin collecting groups of cartridges and putting them in groups to oraganize back into bins afterwards. After a good stretch you pick up one of the cartridges in your mouth and bring it over to him. Gaz looks up surprised to see a dog, but pleased seeing what’s in your mouth. When he tries to take it though you pull it away. You offer it again, but pull it back again.

“Come on dog, give. Drop it.” He orders. You don’t and instead step back bouncing with your front paws, and wagging your tail. Gaz gives in and stands reaching for the cartridge and you pull it away again, nearly making him trip over the other ammo on the floor.

“Oi! Come here.” He says, but you’re running off again in no time, making him give chase. By now he knows you’re not a K-9 so he wants to avoid damage while he can. You figure it’s all a game though. You keep running and eventually run past Price’s office who by now hears Gaz calling after you to drop the ammo. He gets up and peeks out of office, seeing only your fluffy tail as you round a corner, while Gaz slows outside his office.

“Kyle you want to tell me what’s going on?” Price asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Cap’n I-“ Kyle starts, but soon is cut off by a ticked off Scottsmen further down the hall.

“Ya bloody food stealing mongrel!” Soap shouts. Kyle and Price exchange a look before heading in the direction of the Scottish anger.

They find soap cornering you with the cartridge still in your mouth. You know you’re in trouble now. You finally drop the cartridge, ears going flat and whimpering.

“Sergeant?” Price asks. Soap doesn’t take his eyes off you, keeping you in the corner.

“We’ve got a rogue dog.” The sergeant calls back.

“Yeah I can see that, ease up on it Soap.” The Captain instructs. You whimper in the corner, barking at Soap now. You just wanted to leave now. You didn’t like someone keeping you cornered, and yelling at you.

“Soap let up.” Kyle insists. The sergeant steps back and as you continue to cower in the corner, giving a few more scared barks. Price shook his head. Clearly a stray that had wandered in by accident and was just hungry and wanting attention.

“What do we do with it captain?” Kyle asks. You look up at the burly man who is asking himself the very same question. Price sighed and stepped closer putting his hand out for you to sniff. There’s more whimpers at first, but you give a small sniff.

“You’re okay… you’re okay.” He says softly, and reaches out to touch you. You whimper again but his gently hand in your fur calms you down. It’s not everyday you get someone willing to pet you, or rather show you kindness. You keep your eyes on the captain letting him pet you. In the process Price was checking your collar for any information. Nothing. The collar was pretty rugged and in leather.

“I think this one needs a bath. Don’t need anyone getting fleas.” He says.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846

[matchadobo]

KIDD; biker kidd au

summary: fluffy stuff abt this hot headcanon of mine that he'll look so biteable as a biker WHAHDUAHDHS LMAO warning/s: borderline nsfw since some nsfw stuff are mentioned but not there is no occurrence of the actual thing, all fluff!!, super hot kidd ahead nGgghhhhHHh

just imagine, this fucking fridge of a man in a bike with a helmet

you'd always be delighted when he picks you up after work with the bike

he'd look so hot leaning on the bike while waiting for you

you'd have your own helmet and he loves putting it on for you, giving you a kiss before locking the helmet

he'd let you sit behind or in front of him, but he likes it when you're infront. he feels your ass more 😫. pros for behind is that he gets cuddles, would always have a hand on your leg

for the first time when you were shy enough to join him in his bike but is painfully required to hold onto him. you'd insist in holding the other edge of the bike even when he insists on you holding onto him, he'd fucking convince you so much to do so mf engineered for you to be in that position!! so when you would be too shy to comply, he'd start up the engine and move instantaneously a little so you can fucking fall behind him and subconsicously hold onto him. he'd be smirking and tightening your grip saying "hang tight, princess. don't want you falling further than you already have."

the feeling of the breeze on your skin while his arms are caging you and you have the free view of the road

he'd always do the thing where the bike goes vertically (IDK WHAT IT'S CALLED), you'll be scared at first but as he does it more often it's an adrenaline rush for both of you

his favorite position on the bike is when it's parked and you're sitting infront of him and facing him. he'll stare you down, lift your helmet, and give you a kiss that'd last a little too long

he'll love pretend-fucking you in the bike, where whenever it stops he'll just playfully thrust into you with a hand on your hip. always relishes on your flustered reaction, not knowing what to do with yourself. gives you a pat on your helmet after

you'd love to play on his bike, pretend like you'll drive it and leave him. mans will be pouting with that usual scowl

he likes taking you on mountains and parking it there on his previously mentioned favorite position, watching the view or doing something more than kissing 🤪

i just think this fits him so well than having a car, he metal like that

just imagine HIS ARMS while maneuvering that shit 😩

whenever you're in front of him, his titties are such a good cushion on the ride, it's so soft!! even when you're behind, you'll be clutching on them and squeezing

if you're down, he'll teach you how to ride the bike. just expect a very non-patient teacher 😞 so expect to get yelled at (affectionately). he'll even take you out to canvas on finding your own bike, secretly thrilled he'll have you as a biking partner

he loves customizing his bike, he fixes and replaces parts on his own. he'd love saying, "hey baby, look at my new fucking tires.", "look at my cool rims and headlights, love" with a proud, nerdy grin. always cooped up on his garage, tattered with grime and motor oil or some shit, always shirtless in the process. it'd be a hot spectacle tbfh!! you'd have to physically drag him out and ask him to take a bath.

he'd participate in races from time to time, bringing you as his little cheerleader. would use the cash prices for dates afterwards and use the remaining for bike work

would get your name somewhere in the design of his bike

during long trips, whenever there's a chance to stop due to traffic or stop lights, he'd let out a heavy breath and remove his hands from the clutches, you'd massage his shoulders and arms. he'd moan silently ij reliefwhile rubbing your thighs as a thank you, leaning his head down a bit on yours

he also loves (begrudgingly) when you ask him to bring you to places you need to go to. especially when you go out to your friends, he loves to show your friends that you bagged a fucking stud like him but more so show off his bike

omg i have been so absent AKASJDHAHD there was just a lot happening with my life plus this was the only hc i can properly execute, i don't want to post anything half-baked!! i hope this one somehow makes up for my absence ><

[crystlizabeth]

In everything

Simon Riley x Wife!shadow!blackFem

Summery: Simon would stop at nothing to find her.

Warnings: angst, death, crying, making graves a horrible person, blood, torture, her code name is Irene non canon events.

They had taken her right out of his hands, Graves had taken her from him. He spent hours waiting for her to come through the radio, nobody knew what she was to him. Nobody knew that particular shadow gave Ghost his breath, she was his reason of living for so long. She was nowhere to be seen in the prison they had searched nothing but her bloody dog tags. Picking them up made his heart stop, his breath became fast and panicked.

“You alright brother?” Soap asked his hand touching Ghost shoulder.

Simons eye never left the metal tags “Any trace of Irene..?” He spoke softly.

Soap and Alejandro looked at one another shaking their heads lightly, “No hermano..” Alejandro spoke.

His hand gripped the tags putting them in his vest pocket. He had to find her no matter what it made him sick the thought of her dead, him having to hold her cold body in his arms. Taking a breath he had to continue this get Alejandro and his men out of the prison, try and contact Lanswell maybe she knew.

Everyone knew the plan kill graves and recover the HQ, that drive was long he felt so unfocused that pit in his stomach having that feeling of something was really bad. The air in Mexico was different that London’s; warmer perhaps, the rising sun reminded him of her the peace that came in watching it. Simon let his eyes close the memories of her filling his head, that white dress she wore as they spoke their vows, her tight curls down neatly around her face. The sound of her voice always calmed him down her touch made him feel at peace.. maybe that’s why they called her Irene a woman of peace yet she found her self in such a violent occupation.

“I need Graves alive..” he spoke.

Soap looked up at him. “LT we’re to kill him-”

“I need him Alive.” Simon said his eyes meeting Soaps.

He only nodded.

So he did, Johnny left him alive was it hard yeah but he mad it happened. Johnny and Rodolfo brought him to Simon a room that held 141 and Alejandro. Simon only had one objective now find Irene, to find his wife. Graves hands still behind his back Soap put him into a chair telling him to be quiet.

“Surprised y’all haven’t killed me.” Grave chuckle a bit.

“Where is Irene.” Ghost said his voice dark.

Graves looked up a bit an amused expression on his face “Shadow 0-7?” He asked knowing who Ghost was talking about.

“I asked a fucking question.” Ghost snarled.

“She’s been— taken care of..” Graves spoke.

Ghost heart dropped, taken care of? “What do you mean taken care of.” He spoke his voice unnoticeably shaken.

“She did something stupid and well we found a few things out” graves said watching Ghosts movements noticing the grip on his gun grew tighter.

“Found what out?” Gaz asked, looking at his Lieutenant.

Graves head turned to the side waiting for Simon to answer but Ghost didn’t say a thing. “Turns out your LT here is married to a shadow, well former shadow.”

“Where is she Graves.”

“Not here..” he responded.

A stab to the thigh caused Graves to yell out in pain, “WHERE IS MY WIFE GRAVES!” He screams into his face twisting the blade in his thigh.

“Fuck! I don’t know. I didn’t transfer her!” Graves yelled.

“Imma need more than that you son of bitch.” Ghost spoke pulling out the knife and holding it to his throat.

“Is she here At the hq?” Price asked.

“Yes.” Graves whinced.

.“Is she alive.” Ghost asked applying pressure with the blade to his throat.

Graves nodded a bit. “She is last time I saw her, she was in one of the containers like Valeria was.”

“WHAT FUCKIN ONE.” Ghost yelled starting to get impatient.

“Near garage 14 where all those containers sit.”

Removing the knife he looked over at Alejandro, “there atlest 25 containers near that garage.” Alejandro told Ghosts.

“Then we’ll search everyone.” Price said his eyes meeting Simons, “we’ll find her Simon.”

So the started Rodolfo and a few LV staying with graves. With every container they looked through nothing simons heart stoped every time one of them was opened. What if he had lied to them, and she was transferred god knows where.

“What if we don’t find her LT..” Johnny asked getting a look from price.

Simon stoped in his tracks back facing them, “god wont even be able to help them—Graves, Shepherd and every shadow I hadn’t gotten ahold of yet.” Simon spoke before a voice came over the radio.

A man speaking Spanish over the radio Alejandro looked up meeting Simons eyes, “they found her.”

Not a second to spare Simon pushed past him going towards the other team there stood a few men “Move!” Ghost yelled pushing one of Alejandro’s men to the side.

There she laid curled in to a ball he dropped down to her in a panic “No, no mon’ love, common baby.” His fingers touched her pulse point.

Nothing, no pulse. Simon quickly put her on her back, “no love, no no no.. please common love wake up.” He cried starting to give her CPR. She was cover head to toe in blood and bruises, her curls messy and in her face, her lips cracked and dry the dirt on her face showing the tears she cried as the beat on her. He kept going hoping, hoping that she wasn’t gone that he could bring her back, the feeling of a hand on his shoulder he quickly slapped it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He yelled his eyes never leaving her his movements not stopping.

“Simon… she’s gone.” Price spoke softly.

She couldn’t be he couldn’t allow it, her cold body shaking at his harsh movements to bring her back broke him even more. He had stopped Simon never cried infront of people but now all he could do was cry, cry. Pulling her cold body close to him he held her so close his body rocking back and forth as he cried for her “im so sorry my love, I’m so sorry-“ he sobbed.

“Please my love come back to me just come back to me..” he continued, he was nothing without her and now she was gone. She was his peace and now she was gone, her face sat in the crook of his neck as he continued to hold her.

“It’s all my fault I couldn’t protect you..” he cried softly into her hair.

…

“I often see you in things that I find while working you know that.” Simon said looking up at the woman that sat across from him.

She laughed lightly her head sitting in the palm of her hand “oh? How’s that my love.” She said giving him a smile that alway seemed to give him butterflies.

“We’ll for starters the sunrises, the sunsets. Theyer so peaceful to watch. Listening to the wind blow in the trees, Maple trees to be exact. And lavender and peony flower”

“I love those flowers..” she sighed softly her eyes meeting his.

He only laughed.

Shadows of them still dancing in their kitchen, the rain hitting the windows as music played. To him she was in the trees in the air that he breathed. Those times of laying in bed saying the wouldn’t come back to this damned job but they always did for she wanted to fight for peace to keep people safe, and yet she got her self killed while doing it.

“Why do you still work in the military?”

She looked over at him the morning sun hitting her melanin skin, “I work in to keep pease, I love helping people I was a medic at first but Graves thought my skills could be good in the field aswell.” She spoke.

He nodded sting up looking in her eyes, “your such a beautiful soul..” he whispered.

Her hands touched his face “as you are my love.”

But he wasn’t he was a killer, he killed people. She was the only thing that saw him as beautiful. She reminder him all the time of how loved he is and that he was so beautiful her fingers tracing his face kissing up his body.

“We’ll get to go home after this..” she spoke her eyes watching the sunrise. He looked over at her, admiring her face taking ever inch of it in.

“We should settle down after this- not have kids anyway.” She mumbled.

“Do you want children?” He asked his body close to her but he stayed looking ahead.

She looked down at her hands fiddling with her ring a bit “I would..” she mumbled.

He looked down at her back to the horizon, “then let’s go home after this settle down..” he said.

Glancing down at her there was that smile, “yeah.. let’s do that.”

Simon pulled his mask up a bit pulling her to him his lips kissing hers softly, a kiss telling her how much he loved her to give a type of comfort and reassurance. Her hands held his face as they kissed “I love you Simon.” She said her forehead touching his.

“I love you too (name)..”

…

He eventually carried her back to the main hq, holding her close to him.

They we’re supposed to go home together, but now he would burry her. And god that was pain full her family there 141, her bestfriend. That November in her home town was bright and colorful but a dark cloud hung over them, the maple trees shaking from the breeze the colorful leaves falling from it.

That night he found himself just standing over her grave till the sun set, watching the orange hue collaborating with clouds. Where was he supposed to go from here? He couldn’t go home not without her.. now he was just a man the same mad that joined the military, he didn’t have his peace anymore, he didn’t have someone to love..

In his hand he held her dog tags with her wedding ring around it, maybe it was strange to take it off her he still wore the engagement ring and wedding band. But his last name laid on the stone and she had alway mentioned to never burry her with something to beautiful. So instead that necklace she wore on there wedding night that matched her ring was buried with her, in his other hand was a letter and a voice box price had given to him mailed by lanswell it was from her to him..

Soon just maybe.. maybe he would lie with her resting peacefully.

Here’s somthing sad kinda short but I hope y’all like it!!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I'm fascinated by this industrial loft. I don't know if the architect was being creative b/c of the architectural layout of the building, or what. But, I'm also impressed by the size of it in comparison to the price. It's a 2bd, 3ba, unit in a 1929 building in Atlanta, GA and it's listed for $650K, (reduced $15K), + $330mo. HOA.

The entrance from the parking garage.

The lobby with the mailboxes is very unattractive.

And, I think that this is the direct entrance into the unit from the street.

When I first saw this, I thought it was the lobby, but it's actually the unit.

It's gigantic. Look at the size of this. It's hard to tell what the rooms are, but this looks like the living room.

The kitchen is a very large galley style. I dont think that the counters are granite, they look like a composite, and there's no backsplash.

That black area is interesting. I don't know what you'd put in there.

Lots of metal railings. I would think that this is a dining area.

That wood floor area is elevated, so it must be the dining room.

I would imagine that these are bedrooms, but there are only 2.

And, there's also a 3rd level. This is confusing.

Here's the laundry room.

This is definitely a bedroom.

Those are steps to the en-suite.

I can't tell if that's a catwalk, but there's part of the HVAC system up here.

I don't like how the sink has exposed pipes.

Why is the tub so high?

I think that this is a private patio.

I don't know if this belongs to the unit or if it's a shared area.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/320-Peters-St-SW-UNIT-3-Atlanta-GA-30313/55016923_zpid/?