#Price gap

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

was just thinking of price punishing his younger gf, by having her naked body pressed to the floor, and her ass perched in the air, just a few feet in front of his desk. he nudges her knees apart, so he can get a better view of her pussy. and he just goes about doing whatever the fuck he does, and he has her there for hours-- her knees aching and back sore from the sharp arch that he's put her in.

john looks up from a piece of paperwork, and he can see the way her pussy flutters; see the way her stomach heaves softly, the soft pushing movement making her pussy leak; juices pooling from her hole, down her swollen folds, and then to her inner thighs. she's creamy and slick; literally dripping onto the carpet, and john is suddenly salivating. and she's been a good girl, no complaints and minimal whines and pleas-- that he can't help but push back from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to get to her.

she's too out of it to really comprehend what's happening before she's mewling out, thighs quivering almost violently as his tongue is suddenly thick and hot against her pussy. john swallows down her slick like a man starved, each curl and pull of his tongue full of her cream, and he rumbles deep in his chest like some kind of beast. his large, meaty hands grip the fat of her hips almost bruisingly as he devours her quivering cunt, her taste has him feral. she babbles mindlessly, her eyes rolled back; clit fat and stiff in his mouth.

and it takes him an hour or so to finally pull away from her pussy; she's a pile of overstimulated flesh, her plush little mouth parted and saliva dribbling down her chin, she looks like she's going to pass out but the only thing john does is push his thick, long cock into her pussy and fuck her into the carpet, her knees sliding and burning. this was a punishment after all.

[signode-blog]

Unraveling the Island Reversal: A Comprehensive Guide to a Pivotal Technical Analysis Pattern

Technical analysis is a powerful tool employed by traders and investors to make informed decisions in the dynamic world of financial markets. Among the myriad of chart patterns that technicians use to predict market trends, the Island Reversal stands out as a fascinating and potentially lucrative phenomenon. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the intricacies of the Island Reversal pattern,…

[bluegiragi]

limitations (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[deunmiu-dessie]

divorced!john price who lets his daughter and her best friend (you) stay at his house every summer without fail. divorced!john price who leaves the two of you home alone more often than not when he's deployed. divorced!john price who spoils the two of you when he is home, by taking you out to restaurants and going shopping. divorced!john price who should see you as a second daughter, and treat you as such. divorced!john price who feels like a dirty old man for not thinking that way. divorced!john price who's wanted to feel your cunt wrapped around him since the moment he laid eyes on you. divorced!john price who swears to let his fantasies be nothing more than they are. divorced!john price who gets a text from his daughter during his early drive back that you had arrived sooner than she did. divorced!john price who gets home only to find you sprawled naked across his bed, playing with yourself and moaning his name. divorced!john price who can't help but swallow thickly at the sight of your messy pussy ruining his sheets. divorced!john price who clears his throat, voice gruff, "d'you wan' help sweetheart?"

he knows he shouldn't be doing this, knows that it's wrong, but the taste of you is addicting. warm and sweet against his tastebuds, innocent and needy. the precise but shaky roll of your hips against his mouth is driving him insane as well⸺ and the only thing he can do is watch. watch as you fall apart on his tongue while he grinds himself against the edge of the bed. listen to the muffled sound of your moans and pleas as he takes you higher and higher only to slow down his ministrations and ruin your orgasm, your slick, soft thighs trapping him against your swollen, drooling cunt. john can't help but groan against you, tongue lashing out to flick your engorged clit, when he finds your teary face, your head shaking back in forth. "m-mr. price! mmf--! please! i can't, need t'cum."

and maybe he shouldn't have given in as easily as he did, but god he's jerked off to the thought of this exact moment for what feels like an eternity. "all y'had to do 's ask, luv."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒!

[konigsblog]

toxic dadbod stepdad price who baby traps reader, saying it’s not her path to go to college and she’s to take her mothers place n do housewife stuff :3

tw/cw: stepcest, non-con, forced impregnation, forced breeding, intoxication, toxic!dadbod!price, stepfather!price, dark content, age gap/age difference.

dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+

it's his duty as your stepfather to make sure you're a respectful, young woman. it's his job to shape you into the best you can be, and perhaps he's abusing his role as a father figure, but john has bigger worries than what his pathetic, whiney stepdaughter wants. :(

as you're his stepdaughter, it's your duty to obey him without question, or at least he tells you. price can smell the alcohol from your breath, the faint essence of your perfume on your neck when he licks a stripe up your face drunkenly. bottles of beer lay around, along the coffee table, whilst your thighs are forced open by his large and calloused hands, warm hands wandering between your legs and into your lace panties.

he doesn't enjoy seeing you with so much independence, and you have been giving him so much attitude lately. you never liked price, you thought he was a sickening, selfish, greedy bastard that didn't think about anyone but himself. but, your mother was happy and that was all that mattered. you just wished she paid more attention to the sexual glares he'd give you, the way his words were lustful and dirty, and how you'd have hickeys on your neck when she returned from work.

it's his duty to shape you into an obedient woman, and it seemed that the only way to do this was to show his dominance, to show you your place and where you belonged by his side. the thickness of his girthy cock was agonizing as he sunk lower, deeper into your puffy pussy. your eyes were wet and your back arched with pleasure, too drunk to realise how horrible this was — how you were being taken advantage of.

john's hung balls pressed against your ass, and the impact from them smacking against your rear with each thrust was painful. your breathing quickened as his pace became relentless, tugging at your hardened nipples while slobbering all over you drunkenly — attempting to make out with you to stifle your cries.

he felt no remorse. after all, your mother was away on a work trip, and he had nothing to use as a fleshlight. you were the next best thing, or maybe even better — being so scared causing your cunt to tighten and pulse.

he fucked his hot, potent load deeper into you. rolling over, he laid on his back, breathing heavily. he didn't have the stamina of his younger self — the stamina of someone your age. he bucked his broad hips, bouncing you up and down, the tip pressed against your cervix and bruising it. pained and dumbfounded weeps left your lips as you passed out against him, heaving and whining out.

although, the next morning, you had no recollection of the night before. you didn't notice price's perverse gaze, you didn't understand his cruel and brutal smirk, the way your body felt violated and burned whenever you touched the cigarette burns and bruises along your thighs. it didn't take very long before symptoms became obvious, and you were sobbing your eyes out, completely lost and confused.

but, you connected the dots when you saw how adamant price was for you to keep the baby... this was his plan to keep you beside him, underneath him, so you'd understand your place beside a man like him.

[tojisun]

(pickup) trucker price is alive in my head again!!

thinking about the way he’ll lean over to buckle the seatbelt for you :(

like he’d purposefully brush against you too so you get a whiff of his scent. he smells like oil and rubber and earth, but also his aftershave, and it’s overwhelming that it makes you clench your legs together.

his eyes catch the movement and he bites back a grin because—god, love, ain’t you too easy to read?

you make small talk to fill in the silence; sure the radio’s on, but it’s dialled down so much that the rumble of the truck’s engine engulfs the sounds. you ask him about his day and his work, making amiable talk like it’d do anything to hide your blatant crush.

it doesn’t.

(you thought it was just going to be something fleeting—you met him in your first year, when you moved into your college dorm and met your roommate turned-into-your-now-best friend.

price was there to help her move in, lugging around her bags and bins while giving you a little polite smile, until it melted into something more genuine at the end of the day because, somehow, you managed to charm both price’s.

years have crawled by since then, and that crush just intensified into something bigger. into something more troublesome.

it can’t help that mr. price just keeps getting more ruggedly handsome as he ages.

but things are getting more muddled because of him too—his once ignorance of your crush is now replaced with longer looks, teasing voice, and more intimate smiles. he looks at you like he knows.

he looks at you like he wants you too—)

[pondslime]

Jenny Agutter as Nurse Alex Price

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) dir. John Landis

[thecraftydragonc]

Hello everyone, I am opening up donation commissions! Specifically for these donation drawings the cause I want to focus on is the ongoing genocide and humanitarian crisis in Palestine. It is more important than ever to donate to help Palestinians as Israel's attacks only get worse by the hour. It may be easy to feel disconnected from something happening on the other side of the world, or that there’s nothing you can do to help. However, even just a small act of kindness can change someone's life. I know this small donation campaign won’t single handedly change the world, but I am hoping it can be that small act of kindness that someone needs right now. 

So, how will this Donations for Drawings campaign work? It’s pretty simple, you donate to a cause that helps Palestinians and I will draw something for you! The more you donate, the better the drawing will be, but no donation is too small! This campaign will run for 2 weeks from 5/29 to 11:59pm PST on 6/12. Additionally the campaign won’t end until we reach the goal of at least $100 in donations (but we can go over the $100 goal in the 2 week timeline). I am accepting donations to family fundraisers, eSims, and donations to organizations/charities, however escape funds and eSims are a priority right now. If you need help figuring out where to donate, here are some options. This isn’t every fundraiser out there but it’s a good place to start.

Family Fundraisers (These are all vetted fundraisers): Gaza Funds (If you’re having trouble deciding on a family to donate to this site will automatically suggest a fundraiser when you open it) Operation Olive Branch Help Gaza Gaza Evacuation Relief Fund fundsforgaza | Instagram | Linktree

eSims: https://gazaesims.com/

Organizations/Charities: PCRF CareForGaza Supporting Displaced Families in Gaza https://piousprojects.org/campaign/2680 State of Palestine | World Food Programme Doctors Without Borders The National Emergency Appeal: Medical Aid for Palestinians Crips for eSims for Gaza | Chuffed | Non-profit charity and social enterprise fundraising (if you can’t donate an eSim yourself you can donate here)

Once you donate you need to send proof of your donation to me. This can be done through a direct message or this google form https://forms.gle/bUzTb4bgCefc3Wec8. Proof of donation should include a timestamp, what type of donation you made, and how much you donated. Please remove or blackout any personal identification or banking information. Also, specifically for eSim donations you must also show that you forwarded the eSim to gazaesims@gmail.com. I am only accepting donations made during 5/29 or later.

For the drawings themselves, I am up for drawing anything (though I’m best at drawing dragons), Oc’s or Canon characters, just nothing that is NSFW, gore, or has hateful imagery. In your message please include a link to the character's profile (like a toyhouse page or wiki for canon characters) and/or include a reference image. The more you donate the better the drawing will be! Images of Palestinian solidarity can also be included in the drawing for free if you’d like, just specify that in your message. Additionally, these drawings will likely be posted to promote this donation campaign as well as donating to Palestinian causes in general. I can either tag you in these uploads or you can remain anonymous if you wish. 

Thank you for reading all of the info for the donation commission! If you have any questions feel free to ask.

Additionally, if you want to help Palestinians but unfortunately can’t donate, there are still so many ways you can help! You can participate in boycotts https://bdsmovement.net/get-involved/what-to-boycott, do your daily click https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/, call and email your representatives to demand a ceasefire, and keep yourself educated by listening to Palestinian voices and learning from resources like https://decolonizepalestine.com/.

[konigsblog]

NON-CON, STEPCEST, daddy issues, dumbification, intoxication.

You wish and mourn for any type of fatherly interaction. You seek validation from older men, men that always seem to disrespect you. Until John came along – your new stepdad.

You didn't care that it was wrong, you seeked out physical touch from him. Price always gave you a threatening gaze, one that warned you not to act up otherwise you'd be punished.

A punishment from your stepdad usually included him face fucking you or spanking your poor ass.

He hadn't been fucking you, only grinding up against you so he could cum in his boxers. Walking away chuckling and a cruel smirk stained on his face while you were left breathless and weak in the knees. So, you took matters into your own hands. If John wouldn't fuck you, a college boy would.

Stumbling home, giggling with mascara running down your cheeks. Both you and your boy best friend got drunk, fucking eachother stupid, his cum still oozing out your hole and staining your panties. And to say Price was angry was an understatement.

Pulling down your pants to see your cunt covered in thick cum, your eyes watering and the smell if vodka sticking to your skimpy dress. In a matter of seconds, he had you bare and your back pressed against the couch with his meaty cock forced and fucked into your wet pussy.

You babbled and whined, moaning out in pure pleasure as the sensation rushing through you. It was by far the thickest man you'd taken before – but John didn't need to know how many men you'd fucked...

Your back curved and arched as he smacked into your cunny again, his full and sticky balls smacking against your ass with each hard and rough thrust. Your pussy drooled, and he made you a babbling dumb mess in a matter of seconds when he began rubbing your sensitive clit in circles, smacking your ass harshly in-between thrusts while degrading you.

“Ya' fucked up, sweetness... Lettin' other men fuck ya'!? When ya' know fine well I'm supposed to be the one bullyin' my cock into this tight pussy.” Price's voice came out guttural as he drived his wet, hot length into you repetitively. You creamed around him, walls spamming and pulsing around his girth.

He didn't stop, when you tightened and squeezed around him, he forced you to arch your back so he could fuck into your sweet cunt easier. Groaning out hoarsely and gripping your tits painfully as he rutted against you one last time, shooting his potent load all in you walls.

Panting, his musk staining your body, you gazed at him drunkenly; a dizzy, stupid mess beneath him. Your eyes grew wetter, heavy balls pressed against your ass while he pushed his cum deeper inside you.

[ghostlywhiskey]

okay them but make it price x reader <333

i love my slow burns and i love my price au's leave me ALONE

[bishopony]

I have to hear a lot of crap from people IRL about me working as an artist from home because so many people don't see it as a "real" job if I'm not on that soul-sucking corporate grind. but getting called anti feminist is a new one LMAO

[yeyinde]

ALPHA PRICE?? I'm salivating

godd yeah. he's a surly bear of a man who lives in a corrie all by himself. spends all day by the tarn, chopping wood and hunting. built everything he owns with his bare hands. his scent alone send you into an early heat. super authoritative so even without an "alpha command," you're obeying immediately. despite his age, he's unmated (for reasons which of dubious nature). and your former boss (who tried to get you fired on multiple occasions lmao) for the extra power imbalance of it all. he's awful. he's mean. he's never gonna let you go. i love him.

[lucalicatteart]

A new sculpture! Finally... I feel like I never sculpt anymore since I'm always sick or have some 500 other things going on or projects to finish, but I'm trying to schedule time to do it more often this year hopefully..! Just a generic fantasy creature as usual, but did try making the eyes a little more sparkly this time.. hrmm..

[trashland-llamas]

Snap, Crackle, Pop

y/a-your age

Gn reader

'Did you just pop your hip?' Price asked, astonished. He did think it odd that their call sign was glowstick, chalking it up to some prank they'd done with Gaz. But hearing the amount of bone cracking that came from their body in the past week, he didn't think that'd be the reason. 'Yea, it happens. Be the crepitus. Just got some creaky joints.'

'Huh, you're only y/a though.' He had seen many of his colleagues retire early thanks to injuries or stiffening joints but they had all been nearing 60. 'Doesn't hurt. Well, the back does but that's the scoliosis talking.' Price was previously aware of their back pain, they all had it. Scolding his team about their posture whenever he saw one of them hunched over a laptop. 'Ever see a chiropractor for it?'

'You know a guy? But no, have you seen the way they crack people's necks? I'll pass, thanks.' Price slightly wincing as they popped their knuckles. 'Surely, there has to be something to treat it.' They ignored his withering stare. Unable to count the amount of times they argued over whether them popping their knuckles would lead to arthritis. Price adamantly claiming it would while they denied it.

'Don't worry, I usually wear support bandages under the gear. If it's a really bad day, add some ibuprofen and good as new.' The withering stare was more pronounced. 'No, not good as new. But I guess as long as you're not letting it get to the point of adding further injury or interfering with the job too much.' Price pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. 'Fine, if it becomes excruciating and I've done everything I can on my end, I'll come to you if it continues rearing it's ugly head 'kay?' 

'Okay, fine...coffee?' Getting up to brew himself another cup.

'Yes please.' Price ruffled their hair as he passed, grabbing their cup from the table.

[thoughtportal]

price gouging medication that was paid for by tax payers

[sentientcave]

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 - A Spoonful of Sugar

<Prev Chapter -

After a bad breakup with a mediocre ex, Rory decides to move back home-- Sort of. Rather than settle back into her mom's flat in London, she accepts her dad's invitation to move to his house out in the country. But unfortunate circumstance has John's former protege, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick moving in as well, after finalizing a divorce. It wouldn't be so bad, if he wasn't stupidly handsome and extremely annoying about it. But she can learn to live with him, can't she?

Contains: OC x Gaz, Lorelai "Rory" "Scout" Blackmoore-Price, Age gap romance (Scout is roughly 25), Annoying old men, Schemes and Plots, Mentions of John Price's many divorces, Poor decisions, Guns, Inadvisable Flirting

~6.7k - 18+ Only - MDNI

Billie was still free, and agreed to meet for coffee in about an hour, so Rory grabbed her bag, shoving her laptop in it in case she got there first (She hadn’t done the walk into town yet, and wasn’t certain how long it would take to get there), and headed out without a word.

It was a nice afternoon for a walk anyway, through the pleasant countryside that surrounded Hereford. It was one of the things she was beginning to like best about living there, that country and town basically butted up against each other. London was grey streets as far as the eye could see, and she’d never minded that, but there was something so unbelievably pleasant about a walk through fields, with birds and insects singing in the brush.

She got to the coffee shop about a half-hour ahead of time, so she ordered a coffee and a big ginger cookie, and set up in a corner where she could keep an eye on the door. She got a little writing done, before someone approached. She glanced up, frowning at an earnest, freckled face. “Can I help you?” she asked, before he could say anything.

“Um. Yeah. I just saw you and— Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you.” Whatever introduction he’d planned, she’d set him on the back foot and scrambled him. “I just— You’re, um—”

“I’m Rory. I’m waiting for a friend, but if you give me your number, I’ll consider texting you later.”

“Yeah? I’m Ro— Gary. Gary Sanderson.”

“Hm, do I detect a military callsign?” she asked. On second glance, he was definitely military. There were scars on his knuckles and up his forearms, and a silver chain around his neck. He had a trim, muscular physique, broad shoulders filling out his t-shirt, and thick legs. Cute too, freckled and and brown eyed, with a long, angular face.

He blushed. “Yeah. I’m used to— Are you military? I’ve seen you on base, haven’t I?”

“I’ve been there a few times to see my dad. I’m not— I’m a civilian. Definitely not in the service. I’m not quite nuts enough.”

He laughed. It was a pleasant sound, quiet and throaty. “Yeah, you have to be a bit crazy. I used to be gung-ho myself, but you know, you start realizing what you’re missing after a while. Everyone I know kind of… Got ahead of me.” His blush deepened, the colour sweeping up to his strawberry blond hairline. “Sorry. Yeah. Do you still want my number? Or did I just fuck this all up big time?”

“You’re fine. Here.” She scribbled down her number in the corner of her notebook and tore it out. “Can’t promise I’m looking for anything serious, but if you want to spend any time getting unserious, you know how to reach me.”

Gary’s grin was lopsided, but definitely charming. “Yeah? Cool. Uh. Yeah. I’ll get out of your hair. And I’ll text you!”

“You do that,” Rory said. “My friend’s here anyway.” She leaned to the side and waved to Billie, who had stepped into line. “See you around, soldier.”

Billie wiggled her eyebrows from across the room, indicating that she thought Gary was pretty cute. Rory had to agree, especially when he walked away. Military men had a lot of flaws, but they were rarely physical ones. And Rory could appreciate the work that went into the lean taper from his shoulders to his narrow hips, and she even better appreciated the thick thighs and nice ass as he disappeared through the doors.

Billie made her way over, holding some sugary, whip-cream topped confection with a straw poking out of it, a big smile on her face. “He was cute,” she said, taking the seat across from Rory. “Someone you know?”

“No, he just came up. He seemed nice. I gave him my number, anyway.” Rory broke off a peice of her cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. “You want him? I can give you his number whenever he texts me.”

Billie’s smile turned sheepish, and she glanced through the windows, brown eyes finding the soldier again. “Oh no, I don’t want to— He approached you.”

“Kind of got the impression he’s looking for more serious than he’s gonna get from me. I was just interested in a ride or two.” Rory shrugged. “If you think he’s cute, I’m one hundred percent fine giving him up. You don’t know me that well yet, Bill, but I’m kind of a, hmm, free spirit, and there are plenty of hot guys in this town. And they don’t have to be nice if I’m planning on keeping their mouths busy.”

Billie giggled, the bundle of tight curls on top of her head vibrating slightly with the movement. “Well, you can have the first ride, and just let me know if he’s worth it, alright? I’m not quite ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool.”

“Roger that.” Rory hummed. “Thought you and Gaz had been separated a while though.”

“Well, we have. But I guess I’m still hoping for a grand romantic gesture. We had a good thing going. Seven years together. It wasn’t perfect, but I don’t know. All the problems seemed to fade into the background when he was home.”

“Hm.” Rory nodded sagely. “Because of the fucking.”

“Is that what it was?” Billie asked faintly, pressing her hand to the side of her face, her expression indicating that she hadn’t thought of it that way before. “Holy shit. That’s exactly what it was.”

“I watched my dad fumble four marriages, I guarantee that Gaz pulled from his toolbox of relationship prolonging tricks.” Rory calmly ate another bite of cookie while Billie went through a minor crisis across the table, replaying sequences from her relationship with Gaz through a new lens. “If you do want him back, you’d better hold out for more than a grand romantic gesture. I’m sure he’s used those before. Like meaningful change. A commitment to couples counselling. Taking a bit of accountability.”

Billie nodded. “Honestly, I kind of thought you were going to talk him up. Being Price’s kid, I figured— I’m glad you’re not though. I think I needed to hear that. A lot of my friends don’t really get why I went through with the divorce. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure.”

“Well Gaz is pretty charming. If you don’t have to spend that much time with him I’m sure he seems just about perfect. But he’s not. He’s kind of a jerk. Self-centred.”

“Yeah. I like you, Rory. We should have started being friends ages ago. Where have you been this whole time?”

“London. Liverpool. Didn’t like my dad’s last wife, so I didn’t come around much for a while there. No one ever listens to me until it’s all over.” Rory closed her laptop and stuck it back into her bag, and picked up her pen, tapping it idly on the notebook cover. “I mean, I’m just as blind to shit when it’s about me. I was with a guy for a couple years there and I didn’t figure out he was a jerk until it was ending either.”

“Guess we all have our weak spots.”

They chatted for a long while, until Rory saw John’s truck pull into the parking lot. She winced, pulling out her phone. She’d set it on silent after Brandon had tried calling a few more times on the walk over, and had missed quite a few calls and messages from John. “Aw shit. I’d better go. I didn’t tell dad I was leaving, and he’s the worrying type.”

“How’d he—”

“Oh, he definitely has a tracker on me. I’d roast him about his invasion of privacy, but it wouldn’t change his behaviour. I just got complacent about checking.” She shrugged, packing up her things. “Let’s do this again soon. I’ve got a big deadline coming up, but I can still make some time. I’ve been told it’s a good idea to get out of the house once in a while.” Rory stood up and gave Billie a quick hug. “Thanks for making time for me.”

“Thanks for the reality check. I’ll see you around, Rory.”

Rory bought another cookie on her way out, figuring she could probably sweeten his mood with a baked good. She made her way over to her dad’s truck, smiling tightly in response to his stern glare. “Hi dad,” she said blithely. “Sorry, I turned my phone to silent because Brandon keeps calling me. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

John huffed. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Oh please, you knew where I was the whole time.” She climbed into the passenger seat and set her bag between her feet.

His jaw tightened and loosened again. “Yeah. Suppose I did.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“You didn’t tell me where you were going, or answer any of my messages.”

“I’m a grown woman. You didn’t know where I was going or what I was up to when I was in London. We went months without speaking before. Why are you suddenly so worried about my safety?”

“Because you’re under my supervision now. Your mother would never forgive me if something happened to you under my watch. And there’s always enemies popping out of the woodwork. If someone targeted you because of me…”

“Why not just tell me that?”

His knuckles tightened on the wheel. “Guess I should’ve.”

“Of course you should’ve. You’re so cagey about work stuff, dad. You have to communicate. If I need to be more careful, I need to know that. You can’t just follow me around or track me or have your dogs babysit me all day long. I’m not going to be able to stand long term exposure to them.”

“No? Don’t get along with the lads?” The disappointment in his voice was clear.

“They’re fine. We just don’t exactly have a lot in common.”

“They like you.”

Rory huffed. They might’ve liked her a little too much. “Of course they do. I’m damn delightful.”

He chuckled, some of the tension loosening from his jaw and shoulders. “Maybe you could come to the base with me more often. It would set my mind at ease if you took a job there.”

“Oh come on, dad. I’ll be fine. I’ll be more careful to keep you updated. I’ll come to the base if you get concrete intel on some big bad looking for revenge, alright?”

“Scout…”

“Dad.”

He sighed, remembering that his daughter was at least as stubborn as he was. “I’ll get you a gun.”

“Thank you.”

They pulled back into the farmhouse driveway. Soap’s blue sports car was gone, and likely so were Ghost and Soap. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked. “Could use a distraction.”

“Nah. We could play Song of Valour though. Been a while since I kicked your ass in a video game.”

“Don’t recall you ever kicking my ass, but sure, sounds like a plan.”

The sun peeked over the horizon, spilling gold over the fields, streaming through the mist that rose from the shadows and burned away in the thin, pale light. Rory pulled in steady breaths, feet striking the ground evenly, sweat trickling down her back. This was the best part of living out here, the utter serenity of the morning run. It was quiet in the city around dawn too, but there was an ever-present hum of traffic, no matter the hour, and the air always smelled slightly of petrol and rot. Out here, the air was sweet, and the world was quiet, everything shrunk down to her body, the rush of blood in her ears, the inhale and exhale, the crunch of gravel. Smooth and perfect.

It had been a few weeks since their talk— Rory had mostly busied herself double and triple checking her formatting and spelling and making last minute edits on her latest book, but she had gone to the base with John a few times as well. With both Gaz and Soap gone at once, he was stuck running drills, and he’d brought Rory in a few times to brush up on her own skills. Just in case, he’d said, but Rory suspected that the real reason was so that he didn’t personally have to throw recruits around. In all fairness, she was more than happy to do it for him. It was good to get the practice in. And range time too, brushing up on her rifle skills.

She suspected nothing would come of John’s worries. She’d kept herself alert when out in town, and she had spotted Ghost following her a few times (and probably missed several more), but nothing else out of the ordinary.

Gary had texted her a few times, before explaining that he’d be out of country for a bit. She’d sent him a few cute selfies to come home to, hoping to escalate from polite getting to know each other texts to something a bit less polite and a lot more fun.

She’d ended up texting Ghost a lot too, over the weeks. Mostly one word messages and the thumbs up emoji, along with pictures of any dogs they happened to see. She’d also sent him one of her cute selfies by accident (Gary and Ghost were too close together in her contact list), and when she’d told him to ignore it, he’d sent a very unclear No in response. She still wasn’t sure if he had been responding to the picture or the message after. She’d started sending him pictures of him when she caught him following her, which had opened up to him sending her pictures of her out in public. She had to admit, the old man was still good. There were pictures of her that she had no idea how he’d taken. And a few surprisingly nice ones that she stuck on her tinder profile to break up the selfies.

She made it back to the house just as John was stepping outside, coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. “Mornin’ Scout,” he said cheerfully. “How was your run?”

“Not bad. I’m still trying to get that six minute mile consistently. Can’t keep up the pace over the long haul, but I’ve been keeping the ten mile below an hour and a quarter, even with a quick rest at the half point, so, all in all, not bad. I’ll keep working on it.” She dropped down to the grass to stretch, taking a minute to just breathe first.

“Pretty good, Scout. Should get you on the track to run laps around my soldiers one of these days.”

“What, they can’t fight, they can’t run, they can’t shoot? Aren’t these supposed to be your elite soldiers?”

John laughed. “You can outdo the recruits, Scout. You want a tougher fight, I’ll put you up against Soap. You’ll feel a little less cocky after that.”

"Dad, if you're going to have a dog chew on me, I'd rather it be Yardstick than Soap."

"Don't be silly, Scout. Soap hardly ever bites anymore."

Rory laughed, sitting up to run through her stretches. "Hardly ever is too far away from never, in my opinion."

John laughed too. "Probably right about that. We'll get you sparring with the kids. Nitro still bites, mind. And you'll have to put Roach on his ass a few times before he fights back properly."

"Sounds fun. Been a while since I had a good mixed discipline spar."

“It’s what you get for not signin’ up.”

“Don’t think I’m that big a fan of getting shot a.”

“Could still get you a job on base. There’s civilian work. Don’t have to be a soldier.”

“I know, dad. Mum offered to get me into the London base or as some kind of parliamentary aide when I said I was leaving Liverpool. I don’t want work I didn’t earn.”

He scoffed. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It’s about the only way to get decent work these days.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as fucked up?”

“Course it is. But you’d do good work, no matter how you got the job. You always rise to the occasion, Scout.”

“Well, either way, I’ve got my own projects cooking.”

John’s sipped his coffee idly. “You ever gonna share what you’re working on?”

“Absolutely not. Are you home for dinner tonight? I’ve got one of my projects wrapping up today, so I’m ordering celebratory takeout.” Scout hopped to her feet.

“Should’ve told me ahead of time. Got a date tonight.”

“Oh, did— oh shoot, Carrie, right? From base accounting. You mentioned her. Am I not expecting you home at all then?”

John laughed. “Maybe. You gonna be alright on your own? I can have Ghost drop by.”

Rory snorted, clapping her dad on the shoulder as she moved past him into the house. “No, dad. I do not need your weird old man friends to babysit me.”

Her book had gone up at midnight the previous night— Setting it up for nighttime releases helped quell some of the anxiety she felt every time she put a new work out there— and had planned an Ask Me Anything session online from the afternoon to evening. Her plan was to run some errands during the morning, and then answer questions while she took a long, hot bath, watched a favourite movie (The Princess Bride, most likely) and ordered take-out, in that order.

The AMA went great— She was surprised at how many questions she'd gotten, and shuffled her plans slightly to accommodate. Takeout while she worked on questions, then Princess Bride while she was in the tub.

A few accounts had messaged her privately as well, including some guy who mentioned how much he liked the Scot Cameron MacGregor in her last book, saying that the character reminded him of his husband. Rory was struck by the possibility that he was Ghost, since the character in question had been just slightly based on Soap, and the straightforward, clipped sentences seemed awfully familiar.

She snapped a picture of the tub full of bubbles and candles and the laptop with her movie playing, and sent it to Ghost.

Scout: Selfcare Sunday

Ghost: Isn’t it Friday?

Scout: Probably. I’m an unemployed layabout so I don’t know.

Scout: What are you up to, old man?

Ghost: Reading. Author I like has a new book out.

Vindication.

Scout: Oh yeah? Who?

Ghost sent her a picture in response, of his ereader leaning against his knee in the bathtub, with her book cover displayed on the screen. He was very clearly too big for the tub.

Scout: Did you get in the tub just to send that or were you already in there?

Ghost: Wouldn’t you like to know

It was very easy to imagine the smirk on his face. He could be so annoying.

Ghost: You read any Avery Ackerman? Might like her. Does the self-pub thing, like you’re doing.

Scout: Yeah I’ve heard of her. Didn’t know you were a romantasy guy.

Ghost: Romantasy? Being a writer’s no excuse to make up words

Scout: Shut up, you’re just old. That’s the genre.

She heard a thump downstairs. Her blood turned to ice despite the warm bath. John’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

Scout: Shit, I think someone’s in the house. I gotta get my gun.

Ghost: I’m coming over. Don’t do anythin stupid

Well, at least the cavalry was coming. Ghost was a one man army. Rory quickly got out of the tub, trying not to splash around too much, setting her laptop on the lid of the toilet. She scrubbed herself as dry as she could and wrapped a robe around herself before quietly dashing into her room to grab the handgun from it’s spot in the desk drawer, slapping a magazine in and tucking a second one into the belt of the robe. She quickly swept the upstairs, just to secure it, and crept downstairs, listening hard. The only sound was coming from the kitchen, so she peeked around the doorway, heart hammering. One man, combat boots, fatigues, gun on his hip, gun on his vest, holding her tub of double chocolate brownie ice cream with a spoon stuck out of it. Blue hat, familiar smirk.

Just Gaz. She let out a breath and came around the corner properly. “Jesus, Gaz, you scared the shit out of me.”

He raised an eyebrow at the gun in her hand and her state of undress. “Quite the homecoming.”

“Oh shut up. You’re eating my ice cream too.” Rory took the ammo out of the gun and set both on the counter. “Give that back.”

Gaz shook his head. “No.” He dug out a spoonful and popped it in his mouth, making an exaggerated sound of enjoyment. “Don’t think I will. Might share, if you ask nicely.”

“It’s my ice cream!” Rory protested, trying to grab it out of his hands. He held it up out of her reach, his annoyingly superior smirk turning into a grin. “Don’t be an ass.”

“That’s not asking nicely, is it, Scout?” he asked, tone patronizing. “Would you like to try again?”

“No I would not!”

It was a low blow, certainly, but he was annoying, and she was still a bit amped up from the interruption and the threat of a possible intruder, so she hooked her foot behind his knee and pulled him off balance, grabbing the tub of ice cream from his hands. He snatched it back, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her at bay.

“Now listen,” he said sternly. “I’ve had a long couple of weeks in the bloody desert, and I’m hungry. You got anything else for me to eat?” His thumb brushed over her exposed collarbone, although his eyes didn’t drift from hers.

“It’s not my job to feed you!” Rory knocked his hand to the side and feinted for the ice cream, switching direction to snatch his hat off his head instead, leaping back out of reach. “Give me the ice cream or the hat gets it.”

“Terrorist,” he grumbled. “That’s my lucky hat.”

“We can solve this with no further bloodshed,” Rory said loftily, holding her other, empty, hand out. “Give it to me, and order yourself a fucking pizza.”

He handed over the tub of ice cream with a sigh. He’d made a good dent in the little container. It was what she got for buying expensive stuff, but she’d thought that she wouldn’t have to worry too much, since John wasn’t home. She hadn’t thought Gaz would be back so soon either. “Fine. You win this round, Scout.”

She set the hat on her head, and made a dash for the door.

She got about two steps away before he grabbed her arm and pushed her down over the counter, wrestling one arm behind her back and kicking her legs apart so she couldn’t muster any real force to kick him, and grabbed her other arm for good measure, twisting it up beside the first. “Brat,” he grumbled, flicking open one of his pockets. A moment later Rory felt a zip tie bind her wrists together.

“Hey! What the hell?”

“You reneged on our deal. That means you’re going to sit here, and you’re going to watch me eat all your damn ice cream.” He righted the container, yanked her upright, turned her around and picked her up to set her on the counter.

Scout snapped her legs together the moment he stepped back, trying not to think about how little she was wearing, or the way Gaz’s rough handling nearly had her purring like a cat. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would tell him, not in a thousand years, so she hoped the angry front she held up worked. He had no reason to question it— And as far as she was aware his primary concern was getting back together with Billie. Flirting outside the bar had just been a fluke. Not that she had been flirting.

Definitely not.

She didn’t even think he was that handsome. Sure, he had pretty brown eyes fringed by long lashes, and maybe he had a bright, perfect smile that lit up his whole face, and the flecks of silver brushed through his black hair gave him a distinguished air, but he was definitely too pretty to be Rory’s type. The way his plush lips closed around the spoon didn’t effect her in the least.

“You’re an asshole,” she said. “I have things to do, you know.”

“No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t be home on a Friday night.”

“The only friends I have in this town are Ghost and your ex-wife, I’m not exactly swimming in social plans,” Rory snapped. She wanted to rub his nose in it, that she was friends with Billie, although she couldn’t really explain why. She just felt like being mean. He deserved it, after all, since he’d zip-tied her fucking hands together.

It gave him pause. “You’re friends with Billie now?”

“Yeah. She’s nice. Too good for you, in my opinion.”

“Probably. Did she ask about me?” He dug another spoonful of ice cream out, making eye contact with her while he ate.

Rory hummed, pretending to think about it, trying really hard not to let her eyes drift down when he licked the spoon. “No, not really.”

“Aw, come on, Scout. I’ll share if you tell me.”

“Something like, the sex was so good that she didn’t realize there were serious problems until you stopped having it, and that she wouldn’t get back with you for less than a strong commitment to individual and couples counselling.” Rory shrugged, wincing when the shoulder of her robe slipped down. “Which I doubt you’d do. And honestly, you should let her find someone else. You had a good run. You’re still at least outwardly tolerable, so I’m sure you’ll find someone out there.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully, ignoring the latter half of what she’d said. “I suppose that’s fair. Counselling would be a good start. Maybe I’ll talk to her next week. You should tell her I’m back in town. She’ll be expecting me to show up, so if I don’t, she’ll think that’s me respecting her space.” He held up a spoonful of ice cream. “That’s very helpful, Scout. You’ve earned this.”

“God, do you hear yourself? Why don’t you start by actually respecting her space? And not scheming about getting her back with you.”

He offered her the spoon, smirking again. If she’d had her hands free, Rory might have popped him just for being a prick. “If I’m doing the right things, does it really count as scheming? Now open up, before this starts melting.”

“I’m not going to let you feed me, you asshole, let me have my hands back!”

“No. I’ll let you go when I’m done. I have more questions.”

“This is the worst fucking interroga—” Rory squeaked as Gaz slid the spoon into her mouth, cutting her off.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, pulling the spoon back slowly.

Rory glared at him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You are not making me want to let you go any sooner. Now, when I talk to her, what do you think will go over better? A text? I’d usually call, but she might find that more intrusive, and I want to show I’m committed to change.”

“But you’re not!” Rory protested. “You’re not committed to change, you’re trying to put your marriage back in the box it was in before, because it was convenient for you! Don’t be an asshole, Gaz, let her go.”

“She’s my wife. I’m not just going to let her go. But I could wait longer. Let her go on some lack-lustre dates with civvies that can’t even make her come.” He offered another bite of ice cream to Rory, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought it over. “Maybe I should see someone else. Get her jealous.”

Rory flinched as a glob of melting ice cream landed on her thigh, and opened her mouth to keep more from dripping all over her. The spoon clicked against her teeth as Gaz pulled it back again. “You’re so immature. You’re nearly forty, and you’re using jealousy as a tool to get your wife back?” she asked. There was a weird energy in the room, a counter to the acid way she spoke to him.

Gaz absently used his thumb to wipe the drop of ice cream off her thigh, and popped it into his mouth. “I’m considering it.”

“Listen, Gaz, I don’t think you’re a bad guy, but you really need to listen to what you’re saying right now.” Rory leaned to the side slightly to avoid the next offered scoop of ice cream. “She’s a person, and she has wants and needs that you can’t fulfill. Why do you need to draw it out? Why not think about it for more than a second before committing yourself to chasing her down? Like, what do you want? It’s probably not even the same things.” She huffed as more melting ice cream dripping down onto her shoulder. “Now will you stop that? You’re getting chocolate all over me.”

“What? Oh.” Gaz’s eyes dropped, following a drip that slowly travelled down her collarbone. He stuck the spoon back into the container and caught the drip before it reached her robe, just above her breast. Rory couldn’t help the way her breath caught, and he seemed to be having a similar moment as he licked the spot of chocolate off of his thumb and eyed the rest of the sticky sweet mess he’d made, inexplicable heat sparking in the air between them. “Let me just get that for you.”

Instead of getting a cloth like a sane person would, he leaned in and licked up the droplets, his hands settling on Rory’s waist to hold her still. He made a deep, contented sound when she gasped, the combination of warm tongue and cold confectionery turning her brain to mush. She didn’t even try to squirm away, only leaned her head to the side to give him access to her neck, where he started sucking slightly sticky kisses onto delicate skin, slotting his body between her thighs, hands sliding down to her hips to pull her closer to the edge of the counter.

“Gaz, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You— ahhh— You can’t— I’m not—” He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, scrambling what remained of her thoughts, his teeth dragging over her earlobe. She made a pathetic, whimpering sound, trying to keep her eyes open and fighting for the return of rational thinking. This was obviously a bad idea. A terrible idea.

An insanely hot idea.

“Oi,” a gruff voice behind her said. The accompanying click from a gun’s safety switch brought Rory back to cold clarity in an instant. “Step away from the bird.”

“Ghost, wait, it’s just Gaz!” Rory twisted, panic blessedly pulling her back to reality, where she knew that what had just happened was messed up. “Don’t shoot him.”

The safety clicked back on. “Gaz, get your fuckin’ ‘ands off Scout,” Ghost growled. He didn’t wait for Gaz to comply, just gripped the back of his tac vest and pulled him back a step. “Wot the ‘ell’s goin’ on ‘ere?” He was wearing the Ghost mask, not just the usual plain black surgical one he usually wore these days. He meant business.

Gaz opened his mouth to explain, but Ghost held up a hand. “Not you. Scout? Why’re you tied up and ‘alf dressed?”

“Oh. Um. So you said not to do anything stupid, and I, um. Did. Secured the top floor and looked into the kitchen and realized it was just Gaz, so I put the gun down.”

"Din't think maybe you should've put pants on first?" Ghost's eyes swept over her critically, taking in the half-open robe and the blush that spread from her chest to the tops of her ears.

“Well. It occurs to me now that might have been a good use of my time, yes.”

“And when I told you not to do anythin’ stupid, you just thought you’d ignore that, roight?”

“Ghost, I am ziptied and embarrassed, can we save the lecture for once I’ve gotten dressed?”

“No. You’re gonna remember it better this way.” Ghost turned his attention to Gaz. “And you! Wot the fuck do you think you were doin’?”

“I— I thought we were—” Gaz looked rattled, more surprised than anything else, like he couldn’t fully put together what he had been doing. His eyes found Rory’s, and stuck there.

Ghost stepped between them, practically growling. “No, I don’t want to ‘ear it. That’s Price’s little girl, you can’t be suckin’ on ‘er neck like a teenage boy just coz she’s ‘ot now.”

Gaz scoffed. “She’s a grown woman, she can do anything she likes.”

“She’s not gonna want to do it with you! You’re nowhere near good enough for ‘er.” Ghost jabbed a finger at Gaz’s chest. “Scout is off limits. For you, for Soap, for me. If you can’t ‘andle that, I’ll tell Price what I caught you doin’ and ‘ave ‘im kick your sorry arse out.”

“Woah, woah, everyone slow down,” Rory said quickly. “It’s fine. Ghost, he just got carried away, he didn’t hurt me, so you can calm down, okay big guy? I’m fine.”

Ghost turned around, the scary, cold light in his eyes fading. “Shite. Sorry, pet. Just scared me, thinkin’ you were in trouble.” He cupped her face with his huge hands and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “But if I ever catch you walkin’ into an uncertain situation ‘alf naked again, I’m gonna put you over my knee, understood?”

Rory snickered. “Kinky.”

Ghost huffed, shaking her head lightly before releasing her and reaching for his knife. “Christ, Scout, you stop that. Why’re you tied up anyhow?” He leaned around her and cut the plastic tie with a quick tug of the blade.

“Oh, we were being obnoxious. I was mad because he was eating my ice cream, he was grumpy because he just got in from god knows where and I was giving him grief about it.” Scout rubbed her wrists. She hadn’t been in the position long enough for it to really hurt. “Childish nonsense. I think we both just wanted to fight.”

“I did not want to fight.” Gaz picked up the tub of ice cream again. “I’ve had my fill for a little while.”

Ghost snorted. “Don’t give me that. You always come home itchin’ for a fight or a fuck. Or both, ‘alf the time.”

“Well. I was thinking about going to see Billie. So I guess you’re right. Was looking for both.”

“Alright, Scout, go get your cute little arse dressed. Can’t ‘ave you temptin’ this degenerate any longer.”

“Yeah yeah. All my fault, I get it.” Rory hopped down from the counter and picked up her gun before trotting back up the stairs. She cleaned up the bathroom and drained the tub, and got dressed in some comfortable sweatpants and an oversized sweater, covering as much skin as possible. She bounced back into the kitchen, sticking her tongue out at Gaz, who was scraping the last bits of ice cream out of the little carton, looking at her smugly. She ignored him and focused on Ghost. “You stickin’ around, big guy? Or heading home?”

Ghost shrugged. “Figure I’d stick around for a bit. Keep an eye on this one, make sure ‘e don’t get ‘andsy again.” He elbowed Gaz, eyes crinkling slightly.

“I don’t need supervision. It was a lapse in judgment.”

“You’ve been ‘avin’ a lot of those lately. Get your ‘ead on straight, Garrick.”

“I get it, I fucked up. No idea what’s gotten into me.” He sighed, shooting Rory a guilty glance. “Just missin’ Bill, I guess. Sorry Scout.”

“It’s fine. I would prefer if we never spoke of it again.”

Gaz nodded, relief written plain on his handsome face. “Yeah. That would be for the best.”

Rory settled in on the couch beside Ghost while Gaz trudged upstairs for a shower. He came back in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and they bickered over a movie for a little bit (Ghost won, and they watched You’ve Got Mail). Ghost got a text from Soap that he was landing, so he left, sternly telling them to behave themselves. Rory rolled her eyes when she locked the door behind him. He could be such a mother hen, always worrying about the silliest things.

Gaz was half watching the movie and half scrolling through his phone when Rory came back. She settled back into he spot she’d been curled up in before, suddenly a bit tense. They’d been fine when Ghost was there, laughing and joking like old friends, but now that he was gone, Gaz didn’t seem to have anything he wanted to say to her, although he kept looking at her when he thought she was paying more attention to the movie.

He snorted softly. “New in town, take me on a whirlwind tour of Hereford. If we still want to hang out after the ten minutes that takes, we can get coffee.”

Rory whipped her head around so fast she felt like she pulled something. “That’s my fucking tinder profile.”

“Got some cute pictures in here. You havin’ any luck?”

“Some. Most guys just want to take me on a whirlwind tour of their dicks, which is fine. Been a while since I got laid and all. But I’m not sleeping with a guy who’s first overture is a picture of his penis.”

Gaz chuckled. “Have we really not figured out that that doesn’t work?”

“I don’t think they care about it not working. It’s a test to see if the other person has boundaries or self-respect.” Rory chucked a pillow at his head. “But honestly, there’s not a lot of charm in this town.”

“That’s what boys’ll get you,” Gaz said loftily.

“Like you could do better, Mr. Big Tough Man.”

He smirked. “Do you want to find out?”

“Ew, no, you’re almost as old as my dad.”

“First of all, no I’m not. I’m not even forty.” He threw the pillow back at her, and it bounced off her scandalized face. “And secondly, I don’t think disgust was top of mind when I was kissing you earlier. Some of those sounds could even be interpreted as enjoyment.”

“Sure, if you’re a delusional old man.” Rory grabbed the pillow before he could chuck it at her again. “And I’m not sure I’d call that kissing, it was more licking, because you’re gross and insane.”

“Watch it, love. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble with that attitude.”

Rory scoffed. “Oh yeah? Are you my daddy now, Gaz? Gonna punish me for bein’ a brat?”

She tensed, realizing what she’d said could be considered provocative. Gaz tensed too, his dark eyes flashing with interest. That stupid smirk of his was becoming a permanent fixture on his too-pretty face. They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them hardly daring to breathe. The sensible thing to do would to leave him there and go to bed. And she was sensible. She was.

But he tipped his head to the side, as though he sensed that she was about to flee. “Is that what you need me to be, Rory? Your daddy?” And fuck, if that wasn’t unreasonably hot coming from him, that gorgeous dark caramel voice that was just a little too sweet, covering wolfish intention. He reached out, his fingers brushing her ankle.

Scout pulled her leg out of his range before he could grip her, and jumped to her feet. “WellthatwasagreattalkI’mgoingtobed,” she said, all the words coming out on top of each other in a nervous jumble. “Goodnight!”

She practically ran upstairs, ears turning hot when she heard Gaz laughing. Oh he was such a bastard.

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