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[jisanvai]

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[sahabib]

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[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part eleven ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

You have been re-married to your former ex-husband John Price for a few days now. Because, at the end of the day, John is a gentleman and would be damned if he were to have a child out of wedlock.

He’s at the grill on your back porch, beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. A few of his SAS buddies, who came for the small re-marriage ceremony and are leaving tomorrow, are chatting with John while you greet the parents of your children’s friends for your youngest’s birthday party.

“Another little John, huh?” Kyle, one of John’s SAS buddies, nods towards your barely-visible baby bump and takes a sip of his beer.

“Another little John.” You confirm with a grin and rub a hand over your bump that is mostly concealed with your sundress.

“Gonna keep trying until one of ‘em finally looks like you?” He matches your grin.

“That, or until John gets his own personal football team. Whichever comes first.” You joke. Kyle just shakes his head with a chortle.

You look back towards the porch, watching John expertly handle the grill. He catches your eye and gives you a wink, making your heart flutter despite the years and the complications.

"How’ve you been holding up, then?" Kyle asks, a bit more seriously now, his eyes searching yours. “Heard you just found out about Nadia and Theo a few months ago.”

You smile softly, looking out over the yard where the kids are playing, laughter and shouts filling the air.

"It's been... an adjustment. But we're making it work."

Kyle nods, his expression understanding. “‘Course. You two’ve always had something special, haven’t you?”

Before you can respond, a small hand tugs at Kyle’s pant leg. You look down to see your oldest, wide-eyed and bouncing with excitement. "Uncle Kyle, can you play socc- I mean, football with us?"

Kyle grins, setting his beer down on a nearby picnic table. "Sure thing, champ. Let's show these old folks how it's done."

You laugh as Kyle and your oldest head off further in the yard, the other children tow. As you watch them play, you notice Matt walking through the gate with his daughter.

A small knot forms in your stomach as the man approaches, a polite smile on his face. "Hey there," he greets, his eyes flicking to John at the grill before settling back on you.

"Hey, Matt," you reply, trying to keep your tone light. "I'm glad you and Emma could make it."

His daughter, Emma, runs off to join the other kids, and Matt stands there awkwardly for a moment. "How’ve you been?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Good," you say, nodding, blushing. "Things have been good."

John, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, wraps an arm around your waist, the other still holding a beer. "Mark," he says with a nod, his tone neutral. "Good to see you."

“You too, John," Matt replies with a smile. He’s not phased by the purposely incorrect name, or at least he’s not showing it.

You nudge John with your elbow and he covers his smirk by taking a swig of his beer.

Matt eventually joins some of the other parents in watching their children play football or jump around in the bouncy house.

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” You glance up at John.

“What?” He gives you an unconvincingly innocent look.

You roll your eyes and grab the nearly empty lemonade pitcher from the table. You take in inside to refill it, leaving John outside with everyone else.

You hear the sliding glass door open while you’re slicing fresh lemons to put into the pitcher. John appears behind you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you into him. His facial hair tickles your neck as he presses a few kisses there.

“C’mon, love. Y’r not upset with me ‘cause of Mitch, are ya?” He murmurs.

“His name is Matt.” You correct, still focusing on the lemonade. “I just don’t know why you have to act like that. His daughter is one of Gabriel’s best friends, I see him all the time at school pick up and at soccer practice. It’s already awkward because of that date we went on; I don’t want it to be even worse every time we see each-“

You gasp when you feel John lifting the skirt of your dress up your thighs.

He hooks his index finger around your thong, moving it to the side for access. “Ya still have feelings f’r him? Hm?”

You shake your head ‘no’, setting the knife and lemon down on the cutting board. John hums as if he’s considering your answer.

You hear his belt coming undone. Then his zipper.

“Saw how flustered and red you got when he was talkin’ to you…” John mumbles, his hardness pressing up against your entrance. “Can’t have that, now, can we?”

You slowly shake your head again.

John’s head pushes past your lips and he sinks into you slowly, wanting you to feel every inch pushing deeper inside of you.

“Y’think he could make you feel like this?” John whispers, his breath hitting the back of your neck. “Think he’d know exactly how you like it? Hm?”

“N-no,” You shake your head again. Your hands ball up into fists as you try not to moan too loudly. “John, the party-“

“It can wait.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

John reaches a hand around to stimulate your throbbing clit with his middle finger while your walls tighten around his thick member.

“All mine,” John grunts as he thrusts deep into your tight little pussy. “I don’ care if I have to fuck you in front of him to make it clear.”

You both come within a few minutes. Your eyes roll back, you can hear your heart beating in your ears.

“Uncle Si? Is my mummy getting the cake?” You hear your youngest ask outside. Your eyes widen for a moment and you almost push John off of you, but Simon casually redirects the birthday girl away from the house and back into the yard.

John finally pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He adjusts your dress for you, gives your ass a slap and takes the pitcher.

“Go get y’rself cleaned up, lovey. We’ll do the cake when you get back.” He presses a kiss to your temple and heads outside.

You stand in the kitchen, dizzy and blushing…

And triumphant, because your little plan to make John jealous worked.

A little drama never hurt.

•••

You lean down to press a kiss to your oldest’s head from where he’s fast asleep, lying on top of Kyle on the living room sofa.

“Little man partied hard.” Kyle grins. You offer to take him up to bed so Kyle could relax more comfortably, but he waved you away. He said something about how he couldn’t let you carry anything, let alone a five year old, while pregnant.

You just shrug and head upstairs. Simon is on his third or fourth bedtime story, and your youngest is trying her hardest to hold her eyes open.

“Goodnight, birthday girl.” You press a kiss to her head.

“Mummy, you forgot uncle Si.” Your now three year old yawns and rubs her eyes with her little fist.

“Goodnight, Simon.” You grin, then press a kiss to the top of his head as well. Your daughter burst into giggles.

“g‘night,” Simon mumbled shyly. “Now, li’l miss. This is our last book, got it?” He warned your toddler in his fake-stern tone.

You finally get to your room and immediately walk to the master bathroom. John’s already in the shower and hasn’t noticed you walking in.

You’re quick to undress and toss the clothes into the hamper before stepping into the shower behind your ex husband.

You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him close to yourself.

John doesn’t even flinch- he never does. He just continues washing his hair as if you’d been here the whole time.

“Kids asleep?” He asks casually, turning to wrap you up in his own arms.

“Kyle’s got Gabe, Simon has Lins.” You confirm as you let your eyes close, resting your head against John’s bare chest.

“And who has you?” John asks with a lazy smile. He begins to wash your hair for you without you asking, as if it was just natural for him to care for you.

“You have me.” You murmur, still hugging him. “‘m all yours.”

“That’s wha’ I wanted to hear.” John has his hands on either side of your head. He tilts it back just enough for him to give you a proper kiss on the lips before going back to washing you.

<< prev next >>

[thejeangreysummers]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡୨୧⋆｡⋆ — bare knuckled

simon “ghost” riley (boxer au) x afab reader

— pronouns used are you, femme energy from reader

content: soft simon, former ghoap situationship mentioned, upcoming chapters will contain porn with feelings

<33 authors notes at the end!!

the boxing venue is crawling with cameras, sports reporters, and eager fans looking to be let in early. when security is shooing you away to join a crowd of lovesick teenage girls, simon’s scottish friend begins a heated exchange with security. then he extends a hand over the gate and he’s lifting you over before you can fully comprehend what’s happening.

“if ghost asks, i kept m’ hands to myself alright?” he grins at you offering a firm handshake and his name as you try to keep pace with him through the venue

before you can ask when match actually starts or where you’re headed, you’re being tugged into a dark room and the door is shut behind you.

“how’d ya feel about celebrating with cake before dinner?” simon offers pulling you into him

with a familiarity that implies you kiss in dark closets regularly, i mean he hasn’t kissed you. he’s just hovering over your mouth, leaning against the wall, and you think he’s about to reach for your ass. you’re about to step away and reach for the doorknob when you see the smile in his eyes as he flicks on the light switch that was directly behind your waist.

“i can’t believe you just pulled me into a closet, johnny’s still out there! you made tonight sound like a bar fight with witnesses—“ you huff stepping back and crossing your arms as you skim a flyer listing the hour long internationally televised match.

“needed my good luck charm.” simon is leaning against the opposite wall focused on your pretty pink lipgloss

“it’s not like i can blow on your dice or anything” you insinuated

assuming that you overplayed your hand, he walks away from you immediately. you join him leaning against the dressing room vanity as he digs though duffle his bag. he slides a black plastic case with a little skull on the front across the table. he nods toward the case and you look up at him as you hesitantly open the case containing a mouth guard with his last name.

“since you’ll have my name in your mouth eventually.” simon dared as he drapes himself over the black leather couch not meeting your gaze

as you walk towards him he begins fidgeting with his wraps, focused on the linoleum floor avoiding your face. you tilt his chin up with a gentle hand and he gazes at you with such earnest the way you’ve been flirting with him feels almost cheap.

“can i see your mouth?” your hand hovers on his collarbone

he nods, the way he swallows you’re tempted to trace your finger from his jaw down to the base of his throat. you gently tug up the seam of his mask to reveal his mouth, his cupids bow is marred with a deep scar, there’s a less shallow scar across his chin, and the traces of his stubble across his jaw are uneven. ghost looks away and you impulsively kiss the scar on his chin then pull back.

“if you don’t win tonight, i’d like to buy you dinner.” you suggested

simon’s heart swells. you didn’t come here tonight because of his track record, fame, or money. you just wanted to see him again. he wanted to give you an opportunity to pull away from the chaos of his career, his mouthy best friend, and the underlying hurt that’s carved into his face. if you were going to run, he needed to know now before he got his hopes up. your kiss was softer than he imagined, he wonders if you’re always that gentle. he can temper himself for you, treat you gently, speak to you softer, and spoil you better than any man ever could. he was going to ruin you for anyone else. he wants to leave immediately, carry you to the car before you can change your mind. price would wring his neck and a riot would ensue if he left the venue— that’s the only thing that can deter him from the fantasy.

“johnny will get you anything you need during the match. we won’t be here more than twenty minutes sweetheart.” simon promises as he gives you a lopsided grin, and you know he’s going to eat you alive

he’s holding your hand with the forgotten mouthguard, urging your hand towards his lips.

“i don’t want to hurt you putting this in, maybe you should do it-“ you hesistate

simon guides your shaky fingertips to press the guard into his mouth

before you have a chance to kiss him properly, there’s an insistent knock on the door before it flies open. you’re quickly tugging simon’s mask down, backing away from the couch like you’re two teenagers who’ve been caught kissing.

“how could loose simon’s date in less than fifteen minutes? you know damn well he’s never invited anyone here. honestly, johnny-“ price chastises

“the lass was there one minute and gone the next, all these bloody hallways look the same.” soap grumbles

“sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you. i lost track of time.” you hesitated

what were you supposed to say, sorry i was too busy with my hand in your best friends mouth?

“how did ye get here?” soap asks incredulous

glancing at simon for an answer

“a superior sense of direction.” you quip

price begins laughing, before warmly shooing the two of you to arena as you give one last glance to simon which earns you a boyish wink. you and johnny are arguing about the superior slushy flavor while sharing pretzel, until the fight begins. the crowd is overwhelming, your stomach shifts, a white knuckled grip on the barrier in front of you as you watch simon emerge.

within the first five minutes, maybe less simon has knocked out his opponent. he’s stepping over his body to exit the ring making eye contact with you across the crowded arena as price ushers him past reporters. johnny is moving you towards the exit in front of him this time, until you reach the parking lot into a black car with a driver smoking against it.

“be gentle with him bonnie.” johnny urges shooting you a tight lipped smile

he returns to flicking through the radio stations fidgeting in his seat and fills the silence by complaining about american pop stars. you’re midway through explaining the genius of chappell roan when the door beside you vacuums all the air conditioning.

simon is climbing into the backseat beside you, lifting your wrist towards him as he glances at your watch. he lingers on your wrist, rubbing small circles into your palm.

“twenty minutes, as promised.” simon reiterated

johnny is calling him a sod for his dressing room stunt until simon tosses car keys into his lap.

“you two kids have fun.” johnny calls out as the driver pulls out of the carpark

you’re waving out the window, thanking johnny for babysitting you with a grin.

“he’s really nice.” you whisper to simon

simon raises the divider between the driver and looks down at you. you’re adorable and your tongue is cherry red from the drink you were sipping no doubt. he’s desperate for your kiss, even more starved for your praise about his performance or timeliness.

“bet you wish you met him first.” simon provoked looking out the window

he knows this is childish, it’s too soon for him want your affection this badly. the one night stand he and soap shared is still a sore subject in their friendship, everyone wants johnny. ghost wants you all to himself and it could ruin simon’s chances of giving you an evening to remember.

“i want your friends to like me, they seem really important to you. i thought it was sweet of you to introduce me, even if it’s our first date.” you soothed

“i thought you wanted something serious, marriage, the whole lot” simon spilled

he wonders if all of romantic missteps will make you exit this moving car. maybe he’s giving you more than you bargained for all in one night.

“i figured it would scare you away.” you mumble

“you don’t scare me.” simon confesses

you’re caressing his jaw wondering what it would be like to have your hands in his hair. you look him over trying to asses if he’s hurt in anyway. even without an injury the crowd was overwhelming. you don’t understand how anyone could get used to that kind of chaos, plus the momentum of traveling. you lay your hand over his and peer over his shoulder to see out his window, idly wondering where you’re headed. simon is slipping his hand out of your grasp, in an instant pulling away from you. until he leans over you, you’re fluttering your eyes shut anticipating for him to kiss you. the reverie ends with the graze of his hand over your waist, he’s only putting your seatbelt on.

“didn’t think you cared about safety hazards.” you chirped trying to evade the embarrassment of assuming for the second time tonight that he’s tempted to kiss you

tugging down the hem of your little black dress, you’re trying your place where you are in the city.

simon rests his meaty palm over you knee, with calloused fingers he’s gently cupping your knee.

“just trying to get you to dinner in one piece.” simon informs as he tugs of the collar of his shirt

a/n:

reblogs, comments, and inbox requests appreciated :))

all love to the sweetest beta reader: @aphelionwrotes11

[franabz]

★ Task Force 141 Band AU (PILOT)

(my asks are open for whoever has questions or is interested in the concept!! feel free to slide in)

Soap would be the drummer, and a damn wild one at that. He was never really good at singing and has a tendency to hide away in his garage to slam away on his drum set like the gates of hell were opening up. He usually performs without a shirt due to how sweaty and overheated he gets while performing, simply personal preference. Like Price, he is also a massive enjoyer of mosh pits and sometimes begins playing even harder as he watches the crowd dance around and head-bang like a pile of fish. He loved it.

Gaz would be the bassist/background vocalist, always keeping on rhythm and adding that extra flair to each song that it just needed. He has a very nice singing voice, but is way too stage shy to be the lead vocalist, though many fans wonder how he could be so scared with the sultry voice of a godsend. Despite his shy demeanor on stage he is very upbeat and enthusiastic with each note played, whether it be head bobbing or full on hopping around stage like a lunatic when he is in the zone.

Price would be the manager and rhythm guitarist, easily the most experienced of the bunch. He is the one that organized the idea of a band and gets the group gigs and whatnot. On stage he is pretty laid back and reserved, though he does get very into the music. He also isn't very good of a singer due to constant voice cracks or flat notes because of his smoker lungs, something he refuses to quit despite best efforts. Despite his reserved demeanor, he absolutely loves it when mosh pits start, often tossing guitar picks into the crowd and watching the audience roar in shouting and cheers.

Ghost would be the lead guitarist and vocalist, though not very interactive with the fans. He has a deep and gruff baritone voice, one that makes the ladies swoon at just the mere thought, though he quickly learned to not pay any mind to it. When in the zone, he's an absolute beast. Fingers flying across the fretboard like it was the last song on earth, sometimes so hard his fingers would start bleeding all over his guitar; though he doesn't seem to care. Nobody had ever seen his face, which furthermore adds to the mystery of the masked guitarist.

The group was going through a dry spot in their gigs and decided it was time to find a new addition to the band; you.

Price decided to take the band to a local bar that was currently hosting a bands night, the perfect opportunity to find potential candidates to fill the secondary background vocals position. Everyone was on board with the idea of a new member, being enthusiastic about it if anything. But not Ghost.

"They'll all be shite." He'd repeat like a broken record, as if that would do anything to change Price's mind.

Now here they are, seated in a secluded part of the bar and scoping out the crowds like hawks, the soft intermission instrumentals and the dimmed yellow lights mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling the musky air.

Soap came back from the bar with four shots, setting the glasses onto the sticky wooden table and sliding into the booth beside Ghost, a small smirk across his lips.

"Figured ye needed some liquid courage b'fore tae bands c'me out." The Scotsman chuckled over the overlapping noise of crowded patrons, raising a hand to give Ghost a firm pat on the shoulder, one of which caused him to grumble something inaudible under his balaclava.

"Ts' all useless." Ghost grunted, raising the edge of his balaclava briefly to take a sip of his lukewarm bourbon, curling his lip in disgust. "You ever stop complainin', Si?" Price huffed, placing a cigar between his lips and lighting the other end with a cheep lighter, the thick smoke pooling from his lips and wafting into the air. "Jus' being realistic." He jeered, watching as the lights of the pub began to dim and the stage-lights brightened, illuminating the stage. A stage manager emerged from behind the wings and gently tapped the top of the microphone before clearing his throat and addressing the audience.

"Good 'fternoon everyone! I hope you are all havin' a good night!" The man spoke, his voice quickly followed by an uproar of applause and cheering. Gaz laughed lightly at the enthusiasm; mainly from the piss drunk bar patrons. "To start off this night, let's all give a warm welcome to the first band of the night, Woodland!" As he added that final segment, the audience roared even louder as the stage manager handed off the microphone to the lead vocalist of the band, a girl by the stage name Vixen.

As the band started loading on stage, Price was vigilantly scanning each member for potential candidates, already mentally rehearsing what he would say as a proposition to whoever he deemed fit for an invite. Ghost sat in his booth with a quiet scowl across his face, though it was mostly hidden by his balaclava. Everyone seemed the same as the rest; too cocky for their own damn good. He scoffed and leaned back in his seat, folding strong arms over his broad chest and reached for his shot glass, before pausing briefly, a flicker of interest crossing over his gaze as one member in specific crossed the stage and grabbed their microphone; you.

This was about to get interesting.

[keigokoutarou]

“Do you like my hips?” Pt. 1.5

Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!Reader

Pt. 1.5 bc I love cliffhangers *smooches*

Find Pt. 1 here! | Pt. 2

Warnings: welcome to my tit talk (literally that’s all that’s here) Suggestive content

Oh you were writhing. Shaking. Beaming with excitement in your seat as you looked at yourself in the review mirror. The ride to base had never felt so fucking long. This 20 minutes used to feel like bliss before you had to deal with the guys but today? You were sure the speed you traveled was considered reckless.

Pulling up to the gate, you stopped for the MP to check your I.D.

“No camos today again sergeant?” The MP asked, trying so hard not to eye your chest.

“Another maintenance day.” You shrugged. “Gotta get the buggies in good shape before our next mission.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled. “Have a good one, Sergeant.”

Oh, I will. You thought to yourself as you waved him off and headed toward the yard as you and soap called it.

Pulling in, you noticed a few other cars and began counting them out.

Price’s Raptor, Gaz’s AMG and Soap’s old FJ. You groaned in annoyance.

“If he doesn’t show today, I’m going to lose it.” You grumbled, pulling your keys and sliding out of your rebuilt rx-7 before shutting and locking the door behind you.

You almost stomped your way through the yard to the last set of buggies that needed attention.

“Swear I could hear you coming down the highway in that thing.” Soap laughed, rubbing his hands on a greasy towel.

“Funny, I didn’t think she was loud enough.” You smirked, following Soap back to the one he was working on.

“We’re about done, just need to do two more oil changes.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead to clear the beads of sweat.

“I can start on one then.” You nodded your head.

“I laid everything out already but um, don’t want to like cover up first?” He raised an eyebrow, lifting his hands up to his chest. “Lieutenant seemed pissed on Tuesday about it.”

“Oh did he?” You quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Heard him bitching to himself about you ‘flaunting’ all over base after you left.” Soap shrugged.

“Seems like he just needs to get over himself.” You giggled.

“Or he needs to get laid.” Soap chuckled along side you.

“Is he even coming today?” You threw in, silently thanking Soap for leaving the opening.

“He’ll be in shortly. Said he was meeting with Alejandro, the guy we have our new mission with.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “I’ll get started then. Wouldn’t want lieutenant pouty to have my ass.”

“I dunno, he might want to.” Soap winked, turning his back to you and returning to his work.

“Oh you have no idea.” You mumbled to yourself before heading toward the truck.

Time had flown by since you laid on the creeper and rolled yourself up under the buggy with tools in hand.

“Ah, fuck.” You groaned as the bolt to the oil pan fell straight into the drip pan with oil spouting out over top of it. Rolling your eyes, you huffed and dropped your wrench and socket beside you before leaning over to look for the bolt.

“Little shit.” You hissed at the little metal knob for falling instead of staying in the socket. You leaned the opposite way, dropping into a random pan you had found to hold anything important and prevent them from rolling away.

Laying back on the creeper again with a huff, you looked at the engine oil staining your hand and like a light bulb switched, you were filled with a genius idea.

“Whoops.” You giggled to yourself as you wiped the oil on the front of your shirt and purposely made sure a smear or two landed on the tops of your breasts. “Wonder how that got there.”

Evil it was and evil you were. Maybe you had started this deadly war, you thought to yourself as you waited for the oil to drain, but Simon made his move and it would be wrong not to engage in such a fun game of chess.

You were impatient as time passed, closing up the oil pan as it finished draining. On the last turn to tighten it with all your might, you heard your favorite sound.

“She should be around here somewhere.” You heard a deep voice break the every day noise of the base.

It was your beckoned fucking call. You smiled, checking your cleavage to make sure it was ample in its beauty before looking to the sides of you to spot Simon’s signature walk.

To your left, you noticed him approaching from the direction Soap was in. Beside him you noticed another set of legs and you realized that it must have been Alejandro. Your smile turned from excited to devious in seconds. This was going to be fun.

You waited until the got closer, assuming Simon had seen you since he called out your name.

You pushed yourself off the suspension and slid out from under the buggy on the creeper. You held your hand out to shield your eyes from the sun and to catch a clean look at your Lieutenants face.

He held his hand out to you, offering help to get you up so you could properly greet. You smiled, meeting his eyes with a knowing smirk as he not so shamelessly eyed your chest. This time, he wasn’t subtle. His hand gripped yours tighter than ever and in that instant, you wondered what it would feel like grabbing at the inside of your thighs.

“Sergeant.” Simon sounded so annoyed. You were glad.

“Lieutenant Riley.” You were absolutely beaming.

“I’d like you to meet Colonel Alejandro Rojas.” He gritted his teeth, trying so hard to maintain an even tone.

You narrowed your eyes slightly in a playful way before turning your attention to the man beside him.

“Sergeant F/N L/N.” You smiled, extending your hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” He might have smiled a little to hard but you knew Simon caught it and that’s all you cared about.

“I’m excited to get a chance to work with you. Captain Price says you’re great with a Lachmann.” You ignored the tall angry man beside you, fully engaging with Alejandro.

“He speaks too highly of me.” Alejandro chuckled.

“I doubt that.” You waved off his comment. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Alejandro nodded, fully unaware of the part he played as pawn. Sure it was a cheap move but it was too easy. Too easy to dig the hypothetical knife just a little deeper into Simon’s side.

“Price wanted to go over some finer details with you before tonight’s big debrief.” Simon interrupted. “He’s in the large building over there, I’ll catch up with you.”

Alejandro nodded, bidding you one more small smile before walking off and leaving you with Ghost.

You crossed your arms, being sure to push your chest out just a little more as you turned to fully face him in a challenge as you looked up at your lieutenant.

“Playing dirty now, aren’t we?” His tone was shifting, dare you say to a more angry one.

“Was I?” You played innocent, almost batting your lashes at the man.

His eyes seemed to flash with excitement at the realization that you wanted to play. Not just submit to him because that would be too easy. You wanted to draw out this game with him as long as possible.

“You little minx.” He shook his head, crossing his arms to match your stance.

“Lieutenant Riley, I’m not sure that’s how you should speak to your peers.” You tilted your head to the side. “It wouldn’t be great for team morale.”

He looked at you, eyes darting between each of yours and then squaring with your chest.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing at, Sergeant.” His voice was even now, smooth and coated in lust.

“Is it now?” You stepped closer to him, looking up through your eyelashes. “If I recall, you’re the one who started this little game of ours.” Your smirk was wicked and he loved it. “I thought about just giving into you because I’m sure you’d just love that… but giving up this soon would be a waste.”

“You look tough now.” His hands fell to his side, making a step to match yours and close the gap. His index finger found its way under your chin, tilting your face up toward him and making your lips part slightly. “I bet I can wipe that cocky smirk right off.”

“Is that so?” You were trying. So. Fucking. Hard. You almost felt like you were shaking with excitement.

“Give me one chance.” When had his face gotten so close? You could almost feel the puffs of air coming through his mask.

He was being blatant now and that earned him a sweet little gasp from your lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His words were now close to your ear, breaking every rule in the book by playing this game with you out in the open. “My quarters tonight. 9 P.M.”

He stepped back, allowing you to breathe. You took an extra step at the snap back into reality.

“I didn’t take you as a beggar, Simon.” You smiled. “We’ll see about tonight.” You waved, turning on your heels in an unknown direction to put distance between you and Simon.

“Fucking hell.” He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he watched you walk away and out of sight.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Coming home to you; Part 4

Parinings: Captain John Price X Wife! Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.1k

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 3

You sigh as you slide off Captain's back, your boots hitting the ground with a loud thud. It was a far drop off Captain, with how large he was. You pat the side of his neck as you grab the reins guiding him over to the fence. 

This was the second section of fence that had been broken in a month. You let go ofC  Captain's reins, and he goes to graze in the grass next to you. A soft breeze blows your hair into your face as you crouch down next to the broken wire fence. You carefully pick up one of the thick wires and inspect it. 

It was cut, not broken by some animal, the break was too clean for it to have snapped under the pressure. Someone had cut your fence, but who? You lived in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing but acres of empty land around you. Most of which was owned by you and the neighbor down the road. You were the only two houses on this side of the road. Your neighbors across the street, the Rosens, owned most of the land over on their side.

There have been a few instances over the last few years that people have wandered onto your property thinking it was hunting ground. There was a lot of wildlife that lived in the woods behind your fenced pastures. But in the past year or so you hadn't had much of an issue thanks to the signage you had put up with your neighbor. You carefully put the cut wire down, your eyes trailing along the fence. 

One of the posts was uprooted, it is now laying on the ground. That was going to be a pain to fix. If there was one thing you hated about fixing fences was digging in the fence posts. The posts themselves were almost as big as you, and they weighed a lot. You sigh, turning back towards the large Shire horse as he grazes. His large brown eyes look towards you as he lifts his head. Grass stuck out of his mouth as he took a few steps towards you. His black and white muzzle coming to bump into your arm. 

“Someone’s messing with our fences… Do you know anything about that?” You ask him, as you pet his neck. Captain finishes chewing his grass before he tosses his head up and down, his top lip pulled up in a smile.

“Oh really? Do you?” You smile at his antics, a soft huff coming from him as your fingers stroke his nose. “Silly old thing, if only you could talk.” 

You spend a few more moments petting Captain, before you glance over your shoulder at the fence post again. With a heavy sigh you pull your phone from your back pocket and dial John. 

“Hello?” His gruff voice answers on the second ring.

“Hi,” you smile into the phone.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, you can hear shuffling in the background.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I don't know,” you sigh, “the fence in the back pasture was cut. And one of the posts is down.”

“Cut?” he asks, “are you sure it was cut?” 

Running a hand through your hair you sigh, “Yeah I'm sure, can you come out and help me fix it?” 

“Yeah, give me a few moments to get the gates open, and everything we need to fix it in the truck.” 

“Okay, i’ll see you when you get here,” you hang up the phone, sliding it into your back pocket. “Looks like we’ll be out here for a while, let's get that tack off you.” Captain seems to understand, as he lowers his head so you can easily remove his bridle. You carefully lay his saddle and the rest of his tack over a portion of the fence and take a seat in the tall grass. It only takes Captain a few moments to notice you're sitting in the grass before he comes over. His large hooves stopped a few feet from you. Glancing up you smile at the huge animal, as he leans his head down and nudges you hard with his head. 

“Oh I'm sorry, did I not invite you to sit with me?” You smile as the large animal maneuvers himself to kay in the grass next to you. He lays on his side,his large head resting on your thigh as you stroke your fingers through his slightly tangled mane. The Captain's mane was long and black, the strands thick and coarse in between your fingers. As the sun warms your skin you, take some time to plait his mane into intricate 4 and 5 strand braids. Weaving in small yellow flowers that were around you. Captain although hard headed at times, wanted nothing more than to please you. He enjoyed laying the fields with you, letting you pet him and do as you pleased. He was tolerant of you grooming him, and he often fell asleep as you braided his mane, or brushed him.

As you tie off the end of your last plait, the rumbling of a truck coming from behind you. The noise causes Captain to stand, getting to his feet as his large ears turn in the direction of the sound. He steps in front of you, putting his large body between you and the truck. As the truck comes closer you move to stand next to Captain as he lets out a whinny. 

“Easy boy, it’s just John,” you soothe him, as he stamps his hooves into the ground.

The dark gray truck pulls to a stop next to the broken fence line. The door  slamming shut as your husband walks around the front. As soon as Captain sees him, he visibly relaxes.

“See i told you, silly horse,” You pat his neck as you walk away from him. Captain returns to grazing as you walk up to your husband. His boonie hat pulled down to shield his eyes from the sun. “Hi love,” you smile as you stand in front of your husband.

“Hello Beautiful,” he smiles, his large hands coming to rest on your waist as he gently tugs you towards him. Your hands lay softly on his chest, the warmth of his chest seeping through his shirt. Through the thin material of his shirt you could feel his muscles flexing, as he leant down to press a kiss to your hair. “Care to show me the broken wire?” He smiles down at you.

“It's over here,” you step away, walking over to the cut fencing. John takes a moment. Bending down to inspect the wire, after a moment he stands, brushing his hands on his pants.

“You’re right, it was definitely cut, and that post was pulled from the ground,” he points over to the fallen post. “I don't know why someone would cut the fence… It’s clearly posted that this is private land not hunting grounds. And even the last time we found someone hunting on the land they left the fences very well alone.”

“I'm not sure, but we need to get that fixed before we let the animals back here. The last thing we need is to find that the sheep have wandered off, or that Captain and Rookie have taken themselves for a hack by themselves,” you sigh, walking over the bed of the truck and grabbing the thick work gloves from the back. You also grab the post hole digger from the back of the truck, as John cuts the broken wire from the other post. 

After he throws the cut wire into the back of the truck he grabs the post hole digger from you. “I can dig the hole if you want to attach new wire to the fence post that's still in the ground over there.” He smiles at you as he hauls the heavy piece of equipment over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. 

“Oh, how cute, you thought I was going to dig the hole?’ You smile cheekily at your husband. John doesn't reply, he just shakes his head as he walks over to redig the fence post hole. 

You pull on a pair of thick work gloves and carefully go about fastening the wire to the standing fence post. The sun beats down on both you and John as you work in comfortable silence. It only takes him 20 minutes to dig the new hole and place the post, where it would've taken you almost an hour. As you twist the wire around itself to fasten it to the post John comes over. His shadow falls over you as he watches you finish twisting it together. 

“You’re better at fastening the wire than I am. The damn stuff just makes me mad, I don't have the patience for such tasks anymore,” he grumbles. You look up over your shoulder, the sun glaring from being John makes him more shadow than actual features.

“Did you lose all your patience in your old age?” You tease. 

“I lost it when they assigned Soap to my task force,” he smiles as he shakes his head. 

“Well, there had to be someone other than me adding to your grey hairs,” you smirk.

“Darling no one gives me more grey hair than you,” John laughs, as he crouches down next to you. You finish tying off the wire and reach over, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. 

“It just adds to your charm, you should really be thanking me, if i'm being honest.”

“Oh? I should be thanking you for aging me?” He raises a brow.

“One hundred percent, gives you that whole sexy older man vibe. You know this younger generation are all about going for older men. The more mature males, the sophisticated ones, the ones who probably know their way around a woman.” 

“And do i?” He asks, standing to his full height, his hand catching yours as he pulls you up with him.

“Do you what?” You look up at him.

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, “know my way around a woman.” 

A shiver runs through your body, the hair on your arms standing up as his hands circle your waist, pulling you flush against his front. A blush creeping up your neck and painting your cheeks. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, seeping into your skin like, settling into your bones. “You definitely know your way around a woman,” you breathe.

“Good answer,” he smiles down at you, his hand coming up to brush along your cheek. “Look at you, all flustered over a simple conversation.” 

You roll your eyes at him, stepping out of his arms, “what can I say? It’s all the grey hair.”

John smiles, shaking his head as he wipes his hands on his jeans. He walks over to the rest of the supplies and piles them into the truck, making sure to secure the bed.

Captain walks over, his nose bumping into your shoulder, a soft nicker for your attention. You turn towards the horse, petting the sides of his face, brushing some stray grass from his muzzle. He tosses his head up, his lip curling upward in a smile as John walks towards you. 

“Nice smile, Captain,” John laughs at the large animal, pulling a peppermint from his pocket. He holds it out on his flat palm, as Captain eats it from his hand. The loud crunching of the mint between his teeth filled the quiet. 

“The fence is all fixed so there shouldn't be any wandering animals, I have to head back to the house, i need to do some work in my office today,” John's hands rest on your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

Turning your head you look up at him, a small smile on his lips, “Okay, i’ll follow. Could you take Captain's tack?” 

John gives a subtle nod, “Need a boost up?”

“Yes please,” you smile, grabbing a handful of Captain's mane. John moves his hands to your waist and hoists you up onto Captain's back. As you settle onto his back, John's hand moves to your thigh, patting it gently. 

“Hey Love?” You call as he starts walking back to the truck. He looks back at you over his shoulder, boonie hat blocking his eyes. 

“Yes?”

“RACE YOU HOME!” You yell, giving Captain a kick in the side and the old Shire horse takes off. Your hands gripping chunks of his mane as his hooves pound into the ground. You look over your shoulder, John getting smaller in the distance as he throws Captains tack into the back of the truck and hurries to climb in. You laugh as Captain picks up speed, the sound of the truck turning over in the distance.

Taglist: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

[luveline]

Hi Jadey! For a request I always thought it would be a cute idea for Steve and r finding a wild animal in the wilderness or something in the zombie au! Like when Steve found a deer at the college’s gate! Idk, hope this inspires you!! 🥰

thank you for your request my love! steve zombie!au ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

Your breath turns to fog before it's fully left your mouth. Steve turns to make sure you're okay over an icy slip of asphalt, your hands tightly bound for safety's sake, and not because you've spent the last few weeks kissing and not talking about it afterwards. 

"It's not far," he says. He knows you know that, but this is his way of reassuring you without breaking the tough guy act, or something. 

You're desperate for him to hold your hand, not only for the admission of affection it is (and that you so sorely crave), but your hands are ice without his to trap the heat. It's been cold lately, evidence of a crushing winter quickly coming and unavoidable. You've yet to see snow, but rain falls cold and the low temperatures paint the roads and overgrown lawns in frost. Steve has led you down miles of residential, a town not unlike your hometown passing you by one slippery step at a time. 

Hand in hand, it doesn't break your heart as much as it could. 

"I really want popcorn," you say. 

"Yeah? Were you a buttery kinda girl, or sweet? Salted?" 

"You sound like there's a right and wrong answer. What did you like?" 

Steve hoists the heavy rifle he's carrying over one shoulder higher, the tip of it aligned against the back of his head. He doesn't know how to use it; he likely won't need to. The threat of it has been enough to scare off three different poachers in the last two weeks alone. Every time you manage to successfully defend yourselves, Steve relaxes an inch. 

"I liked all three, but I liked sweet best," he says. Your footsteps crunch as you pop a curb and follow along a row of overgrown hedges heavy with bird berries. "You didn't answer. You always avoid answering when I ask you stuff like that." 

You tell him exactly how you like your popcorn to appease him. He smiles in victory, but something stays lingering in the back of your head. 

"I don't avoid answering." 

"Yesterday I asked if you wanted the old spice stick or the teen spirit and you shrugged." 

"I thought you were trying to tell me I smelled like sweat." 

"No, just… you said teen spirit smells like the candy you used to get from Haven, and I didn't want to remind you about it being gone." 

"Everything reminds me." You're living in the end times. No use pretending things are normal, but you'll indulge him if that's what he wants. "Ask me something and I'll tell you a straight answer." 

Steve hums. His cheeks are pink in the cold, the very tip of his nose tinted blue. "Do I only get one answer?" 

"You can have two at a price." 

You flirt on impulse, cringe away from yourself upon realisation. Why would you say that? you ask yourself worriedly, train of thought suddenly quashed when Steve pulls your hand toward his hip. He slides his ratty sneaker between yours, lips set. 

"What, there's a price?" he asks quietly. "How long has that been in place? I would've tried paying it before." 

You push his chest without any real intent. "Don't, Steve." 

"Don't what?" 

"I was just kidding, you don't have to…"

"I know you were kidding, but I want to." Steve smiles at you with teeth. "Brushed extra this morning. Bet I still taste of Arctic Fresh."

You tip your head back, but you get nervous the moment before he leans in. Steve closes his eyes while yours stay open, leaning in slowly. His hand presses flat to your coat. 

Steve kisses like a sweetheart, all gentle and careful, lips lightly chapped where they press against the seam of yours. Rougher as your lips part, like even the hint of you inspires desperation. A kiss from Steve can make your whole week, and that's a testament to how surprised you have to be to pull away before you actually get one. 

"Steve–" You cut yourself short, looking over his shoulder in shock. 

He whips to the side. You grab his hand, as if to say, Hey, it's okay. You're not in any danger, just… 

"We must be close to the zoo," he says. 

There, in the middle of the street stands an animal you've never seen before. It has a deep brown body with short, striped legs. It's about the size of a show pony, you'd guess, though it doesn't look as volatile. For a moment you think it might be a zebra.

"It's an okapi." 

You wrap your arm around his, eyes on the animal as it gathers a cud of stringy grass. "What's an okapi?" you ask. 

"I don't know how to explain it, they…" He fades off as the okapi trots further inward. "We saw them at Garfield Park before it closed when I was a kid. They're not giraffes, but they kinda look like them, huh?" 

You and Steve have come across a number of animals. Rabid dogs starving for food, cats that were surprisingly friendly. Rabbits, squirrels, fish to catch for smokey dinners when you're hungry like you are today. But never anything you'd see at the Fort Wayne zoo. 

"What do you think it looks like?" Steve whispers. 

"It has a giraffe's head and a zebra body. Or a bison." 

"And you gave me that one for free." 

You laugh and the okapi spooks, turning its head to your huddle. Steve stands in front of you protectively. The okapi only watches you watching her with small black eyes. 

"What do we do?" you ask. "I don't want to scare her away." 

"She's a wild animal. She's not going to stay if we move, and we can't stay here and freeze." Steve squeezes your hand, his voice nearly inaudible. "Sorry. Maybe we can go around her, honey." 

You blink. Honey. That's me. He's calling me honey. 

The okapi head shoots up as a rustling crack sounds from a hundred feet behind you, sprinting away. One second she's nosing at grass cracked asphalt, the next she's out of view. 

You stand shell-shocked together staring at the space where she'd been. 

Steve thumbs the strap of the rifle. "It's weird," he says quietly. "We've been eating scraps and I didn't even think about trying to shoot her."

"Oh." You look at his face, the soft hollows of his eyes and his strong nose. "I didn't think about it either." 

"Stupid of me," he murmurs. 

You kiss the corner of his mouth. "I don't think it's stupid, Steve. Something else." 

He turns his lips to yours and steals a proper one. There isn't much Arctic Fresh left behind, but it's a really nice kiss regardless. Warming, velvety soft.

He pulls his lips from yours to rest his nose against your cheek. "Do I still get to ask a question?" he asks. 

You'd tell him whatever it is he wanted to know. You're just so excited that he wants to know it in the first place. 

"Ask me anything," you say. 

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Destiny & Deliverance: Epilogue

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC (Natalia)

Series Rating: Explicit (18+) Word Count: 3.6k

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with the resulting mental health struggles. Just when she has settled into her new normal, she meets a handsome stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor with a heart-breaking past named Dieter Bravo. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, drug use, alcohol abuse, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “No. No…you’re the reason conditions exist for this."

Five Years Later

I could feel Dieter’s lips lightly grazing up the back of my neck as he pulled me tightly against his chest. I glanced up at the clock on the nightstand through squinty eyes and groaned at the early morning hour. 

Dieter nuzzled his face next to my ear, “Come on baby, we need to get up. Everyone will be here soon.”  

I scoffed and pulled a pillow to cover my face, “Soon? We still have a few more hours.” 

He whined, “Oh come on…I wanna take advantage of our alone time while we still have it.”

Sliding the pillow from my face, I turned to arch a brow at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…we never have time to ourselves.”  

He kissed down the side of my neck, moving to hover over me as I settled on my back. His lips met mine briefly before murmuring between gentle kisses, “Shhh, don’t jinx it. We’ve got at least an hour before all hell breaks loose.” Just as his hand began to make its way down my body, there was a crash from downstairs followed by a loud commotion. We both groaned as his forehead dropped to mine. He chuckled, “Aaannd there goes the gate…I’m blaming you for this. You spoke it into existence.” 

I shook my head and smirked up at him, “No. No…you’re the reason conditions exist for this. It’s your fault, so I’ll let you go deal with it while I sleep in. Also, you owe me now…and I’m charging tax.”

Dieter feigned a look of shock, “Geez…such a steep price for withholding sexual gratification…” He rubbed his nose against mine, smiling, “I’ll happily pay it tenfold first chance I get, mi amor (my love).” 

He leaned down for one last kiss, lingering for a moment as I scratched at the gray patches in his beard. He finally moved to get up and quickly threw on a pair of boxer briefs and gym shorts. As soon as he opened the bedroom door, Moony raced in and jumped on the bed to attack me with kisses. Dieter paused in the doorway, laughing at my grumbles and attempts to get Moony to settle down so I could go back to sleep. Just as Moony started to calm, we heard a small voice from downstairs yell, “Molly is in the pantry again and I can’t get her out!” 

Dieter’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. It was my turn to laugh at him now, “You wanted to take care of the baby goat, so you deal with it.”  

He sighed, “I think I need to install one of those permanent gates. The tension gate is clearly not working.”  

My eyes widened as I snorted out, “Ya think?”

We were interrupted by the disembodied voice from downstairs again, “There’s dog shit on the rug too.” 

Dieter stuck his head out into the hallway, “Luca, I told you, don’t say that word. I’m coming...”

“False alarm…I think it’s vomit,” Luca yelled back, ignoring the minor admonishment for his language. 

I placed my hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter that was threatening to burst out. Dieter looked at me, shaking his head before turning to go downstairs, muttering something about “a fucking circus” as he went. I sat up in bed, pulling Moony into my lap for a snuggle just as I heard Dieter hiss out a loud “Fuck” followed by Luca saying matter-of-factly, “THAT pile was definitely dog shit.” 

I chuckled, hugging Moony closer, “Did you do that, mister? No? I’m sure it was one of the others…” 

Several minutes of silence passed before I heard quiet giggles from Dieter and Luca drifting up the staircase. I moved to the bathroom to get ready for the day, thinking there was no telling what they were up to. 

Luca had only been with us for sixteen months, but he was already a mini clone of Dieter. He unexpectedly came into our lives with a phone call from one of our close contacts at CDSS, Amber, asking us to take him on as an emergency foster. Luca’s mother had sadly passed after an intentional overdose and CDSS was still working to locate other family members to place him with. 

Luca had been attending an after-school mentoring program which was funded by our three-year-old foundation that provided support to families who had experienced trauma. Luca’s dad had passed a couple years prior in a car accident, which qualified him for assistance and trauma support. Dieter was very active in the mentoring program and was matched with Luca early on. As a result, they had built a pretty solid relationship before Luca came to stay with us. It was only meant to be temporary until his relatives could be found, but they never found anyone willing or able to take him in. 

Dieter and I had discussed adopting after being unsuccessful in having our own children. I had reservations, of course, but my worries soon disappeared the day we went to the CDSS offices to collect Luca from their custody. Up until that point, I had only seen Luca in passing while rushing between meetings - not really having a proper introduction. Dieter talked about him frequently, often voicing concern about the boy’s home life as they began to spend more time together. I knew Dieter had grown to care about Luca, so I wasn’t completely shocked when he busted into one of my Monday morning meetings asking to speak with me in private about the call he had received from Amber.

As I watched Luca through the glass window at the CDSS offices, seeing his dark curls and sad chocolate-colored eyes caused something stir inside of me that I wasn’t expecting. Dieter didn’t hesitate to enter the room, immediately scooping Luca up into a tight hug. I watched the two of them together as Amber filled me in on what happened and was quick to mention that Luca had been asking for Dieter specifically since he arrived. The six-year-old had clearly bonded with Dieter more than either of us had realized, which is why Amber called Dieter first thing that morning once they knew an emergency foster would be needed.

Dieter and I knew early on that we wanted to adopt Luca if they were unable to find any relatives that would take him. We did have some concerns if the adoption would be approved given our mental health history, even though we had both been doing well for years now. However, Amber assured us that proper paperwork from the doctor would make that a non-issue since it was an in-state adoption. After eleven months of jumping through all the hoops, Luca, now 8 years old, was legally ours. Once things were official, we headed to Sonoma to enjoy the remainder of the summer weather and for much needed family time after the stress of going through the adoption approval process. 

The rest of the family was due to arrive, planning to spend a few days with us to celebrate. They were all just as excited as we were about the adoption. They had quickly accepted Luca into the fold without hesitation from the start and were happy that he would be staying with us.      

When I emerged from the bathroom, I could hear additional voices added to the mix downstairs. It sounded like Lauren and Alex had arrived earlier than expected. As I moved to pull a tank top from the chest of drawers, I realized our journal was sitting open on the top of it. There was a new entry from last night scribbled in Dieter’s messy script. 

“Mi Vida (my life), I love going to bed every night with my arms wrapped around my guiding star and waking up every morning realizing my dreams are real. Everything is better with you. I’m still falling…  Something else to note, I seem to have an insatiable sexual appetite for you, but that’s an entry for another day. Don’t judge me...”

I snorted at Dieter’s ability to mix sappy romantic language with his dirty thoughts. It never failed to make me laugh. Once I managed to stifle my giggles and finish getting dressed, I quickly made my way down to greet my best friend, and now sister-in-law, with a hug. Luca and Alex were chatting away about a book while Dieter pulled supplies out of the refrigerator to make breakfast. It appeared that Dieter had raided the laundry room since I saw him last. He had added a t-shirt and a pair of my fuzzy socks to wear with his “house crocs”. I briefly wondered if this was what he and Luca had been giggling about earlier.

As we sat around the island chatting, Molly jumped the gate that was meant to block her from getting out of the “dog’s room” and came running through the kitchen. Lauren had to do a double take as the goat ran past, “Was that a fucking goat in pajamas?”

Dieter snickered behind us from the stove as Luca ran after her.

“Yes, that’s a fucking goat in pajamas. Dieter offered to take care of her because she was rejected by her mother. She’s going back to the farm up the road once she’s old enough. She's a menace.”

Lauren shook her head with a smirk on her face. She knew this had been a thing for a while. I rolled my eyes as I watched Dieter stuff an empty package into the already full trash can, “Luca, would you mind emptying the trash, please?”

Luca shooed Molly away from the pantry as he shut the accordion door and moved to bag up the trash. Dieter mumbled a quick, “Gracias, hombrecito,” (Thank you, little man) to Luca just as an empty cheese package fell from the bag. Moony snatched it and ran within seconds of it hitting the floor. Luca’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped as he watched Moony streak through the kitchen muttering “Mierda” (Shit) as he shuffled off in the direction the dog ran. Everyone’s eyes widened at his chosen language. I couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out before I spoke up, “Luca, we told you to stop saying that word. That means the Spanish version too, bud.” 

He paused in the doorway and turned to look at me, “Lo siento, mamá (I’m sorry, mama) …but that means you shouldn’t say it either. It’s only fair.” He shrugged, then skipped off after Moony without another word. 

I turned to Dieter with an accusatory look, “I wonder where he learned that from...I swear he’s a miniature version of you already.”

Dieter’s eyes widened as he stuck a spoon in his mouth and shrugged, turning away to busy himself with whatever he was cooking. After pulling the spoon out of his mouth he muttered, “Maybe, but he gets that sassy mouth from you.” I narrowed my eyes at him as Lauren leaned toward me and quietly asked, “So he’s calling you mom now?”

I smiled, suddenly feeling that same rush of adrenaline I felt the first time Luca had said it a couple weeks prior, “Yeah, as soon as we got to the car after everything was finalized, he asked if he was allowed to call us mom and dad now. We all had to take a minute to cry and hug in the parking lot.” 

“He seems like he’s adjusted well. Has he said anything about his birth parents?” Lauren asked in a low voice.

Dieter set a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast down in front of her, “We encourage him to, but he hasn’t said much other than he’s happier with us. He makes small comments here and there but nothing major. It seems like he wasn’t in a good situation. We’ve thought about taking him in for a few sessions with Dr. Rosenberg when she feels like he’s ready.” 

Lauren gave Dieter a sad look and sighed as Alex came back from putting the goat up. He washed his hands, then sat down beside her, just in time to get his own plate of food. Alex looked up at me, “He’s a good kid...and he couldn’t have been put with anyone better equipped to help him through it than you guys. He’ll be fine. Hell, he’s already speaking Spanish better than Talia. He’s probably gonna be negotiating contracts before he graduates high school.”

I scoffed as everyone laughed, “Thanks for pointing that out…jerk.” 

Alex wasn’t wrong though; the kid was ridiculously smart and loved learning. He was constantly reading and watching educational shows on tv. He preferred that over cartoons. 

Dieter turned to set a plate down in front of me and another next to me for Luca just as he came stomping back through the kitchen with the cheese packaging in his hand. Dieter quickly pulled the trash bag out and tied it shut, telling Luca to wash his hands and eat. I watched as Luca stretched up on his tiptoes against the sink, attempting to get to the soap dispenser, but it was just out of his reach. Without a word, Dieter turned to grab the soap and squirted some into Luca’s chubby little hands and turned the water on for him. Luca smiled up at Dieter in thanks as he ruffled Luca's messy curls, kissing him on the top of the head before moving to take the trash out. It was little moments like this that made my stomach flutter and my heart happy. 

Luca sat next to me, chatting away about the dinosaur book he had just finished reading as Dieter came back inside and washed his hands before quickly making his own plate of food. Dieter stood next to the island with a full plate in hand as he ate since we were a seat short. He paused briefly, watching me smear fruit spread on my toast with a smirk on his face. When I was finished, his eyes caught mine just as I stuck the spoon in my mouth to suck the remnants of the sweet buttery treat off of it. I smirked around the piece of silverware and raised a suggestive eyebrow in his direction. Dieter’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me slowly remove the spoon from my mouth and smile at him. 

When Dieter and I finally broke eye contact, we realized Lauren and Alex were staring at us with an amused expression on their faces. Luca was still chatting away, completely oblivious as he poked at his eggs. Lauren shook her head at us, turning her attention back to Luca to ask him a silly question about something he had said. Lauren and Alex were used to our constant ridiculousness by now, so they were not shocked with our overt flirting.

Once Luca seemed to be satisfied with his fact sharing, Alex asked me how things were going with the vineyard since I had left my consulting job to oversee the operations here in addition to running the foundation. I paused mid bite to fill him in on the details, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it all. 

“It’s going amazing actually…Dieter and I agreed to let the contracts with the wineries expire to get out of the alcohol business…aside from the one that’s been a partner from the beginning. We do have several new contracts lined up with some major food companies to make juice and other things. We’ve talked about growing a few different types of grapes to expand on that more since we’re putting a lot of the profits toward funding the foundation. Everything has started expanding so quickly, it’s crazy.” 

Dieter set his plate down as he moved to refill his glass, “Yeah, and we’ve thought about setting up private tours and doing events, horse riding and equine therapy, there are SOOO many possibilities. We have so much unused space, we should really take advantage of it. I have a million ideas that I’m trying to sort through. We have this amazing asset so we might as well use it for something good, ya know?”

I swallowed down the bite of bacon I had been working on, “And we’ve been so lucky to have Mateo and Jose too. We’ve managed to build a good team that we trust enough to run the place while we’re in LA. They’ve been completely onboard with everything and are excited about the plans moving forward.” 

Alex smiled, “Wow, that’s awesome. I never would have guessed you guys would take all this on, but it really is amazing what you’re doing. Truly. I’m happy this place is being used for something good.”

Dieter smiled back at his brother, “I appreciate that, hermano (brother) …and please know I still consider this place to be our family home. You're welcome here anytime, no matter if we’re here or not. I don’t want you to feel like it’s not yours anymore.”

Alex patted his brother on the shoulder, “I know that…you know…I think mom would be proud of everything you’re doing with your life and this place…and how everything has worked out for all of us.”

Dieter gave him a sad smile, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Lauren spoke up then, “What’s this you mentioned about opening a trauma facility or something?” 

I chuckled, “Oh yeah, that’s something we’re looking into. It’s more like a nonprofit community and resource center...with specialty services in family counseling and mental health treatment for the low-income population. It’s in the planning stages, but we really want something small scale that takes more of a holistic approach to treating the family unit. There isn’t really anything like that in LA. Dr. Rosenberg is on board with it so that’s been really helpful. If it happens and goes well, we plan to open additional locations.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, “Geez, you guys are going for it. Dieter, are you still planning to do movies then? I don’t know how you’ll have the time!”

Dieter shrugged, “It’s not really my top priority anymore. I’ve been taking on smaller things lately. I think I may focus more on the behind-the-scenes stuff…like writing or producing. I’ve also considered giving theater another go…but I think my heart is more into the work we’re doing with the foundation at this point. All that other stuff, I just look at it as a means to further what we’re doing with mental health awareness. It IS a good way to spread the word and stay relevant to get the message out though.” 

Lauren nodded, “Makes sense.” 

By this point, we were all finished with our breakfast. Luca announced that it was time to take the dogs and the goat out and excused himself. A few minutes later, Moony, Molly, and our three foster dogs clamored down the hallway toward the back door to go outside. They were following behind Luca, who was now wearing his own pair of crocs. Once the door closed behind them leaving us with silence, Dieter again muttered, “Fucking circus,” under his breath as he moved to put everyone’s dishes away. We all burst out laughing at his declaration considering he was the one who had created it. 

After Dieter finished putting the dishes away, he asked me if I knew where Daisy was since she hadn’t followed the crowd out. Daisy was our elderly foster dachshund that preferred peace and quiet. Dieter went off to find her, returning minutes later with Daisy in his arms to interrupt our conversation so he could ask me if I wanted to stroke his wiener. Lauren nearly choked on the water she was drinking as Alex snorted in laughter. I sighed, shaking my head at him, “What are you, like twelve?” 

Dieter chuckled as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, “Sometimes…I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I continued shaking my head at him as I gave Daisy a quick scritch behind the ears. The four of us moved outdoors after that to keep an eye on Luca and the small herd of animals. A short time later, we were joined by Gabby, Shaun, and their three kids. They had stopped for pancakes on the drive up, so the kids were ready to run off their sugar high as soon as they got there - which worked out well for the young foster pups as they chased the kids around the yard. 

I sat in silence, snuggling Daisy in my arms as I listened to Gabby and Lauren catch up with each other next to me. I was intently watching Dieter and Luca playing with Moony while everyone else ran amuck around them. As Luca stood watching Moony tear off after the ball Dieter had just thrown across the yard, Dieter snuck up behind him. He grabbed Luca around the middle, lifting him off the ground, and buried his face into the boy's neck. Dieter began placing obnoxious kisses onto Luca’s cheek while he squealed in delight and struggled to get away from his papá.

Our lives had changed so much in the past five years, in very unexpected ways. Our work was now more fulfilling and having a major impact on others in ways that we never could have imagined. From all the darkness we had experienced, a guiding light emerged and it’s what led Luca to us.

Luca had been the last missing piece to our very complicated puzzle, healing the tiny bit of our hearts that we hadn’t even realized was festering underneath the happiness after things didn’t go as we hoped for our little family. Now I could only hope that we could do the same for Luca. 

The End (Sort of...)💜

Luca’s Adoption Story - a one shot coming soon!

✨EDIT: Luca's story is now available. Read Written in the Stars to see how he came to be in Dieter and Talia's care.

A/N: And there we have it, folks. We have finally reached the happily ever after for these two. How are we feeling about things? Is this where you saw the future going for them? Was any of it unexpected? It's not truly the end for these two. We still have the companion serious, The Light in the Darkness, to look forward to. Also, as you can see, I plan to do a one shot detailing the events of Luca's adoption. I had planned to go into the details in the Epilogue, but I felt it was messing with the flow. So, instead, I kept it short, and we will get the more detailed version at a later date.   👉 Just a reminder...Next week the first chapter of Closed Position is dropping. Dancing Dieter is finally here, y'all! 🕺 I posted a Meet the Characters intro bit this morning that you might want to check out. 😉 Thank you all for sticking with me on this crazy ride and for all the support. I've enjoyed getting to know you all through your comments and reblogs. I've loved hearing your thoughts and personal stories. They kept me going when I hit the ole writing rut. And that's it. That's all I have. 💜Mysty

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited @babycatkitty @pedrostories

*If your blog name is marked out, it would not let me tag you. You will need to change your visibility settings for that to work.

[jisanvai]

Comprehensive Guide to Automatic Sliding Gate Opener Prices: What You Need to Know

When it comes to enhancing the security and convenience of your property, an automatic sliding gate opener is an invaluable investment. With the ability to open and close gates smoothly and efficiently, these systems offer a blend of functionality and modern convenience. However, understanding the cost and features of these openers can be a bit overwhelming. This guide aims to break down the factors affecting the price of automatic sliding gate openers and help you make an informed decision.

1. Introduction to Automatic Sliding Gate Openers

Automatic sliding gate openers are designed to automate the process of opening and closing sliding gates. They use a motorized system to move the gate along a track, providing easy access without the need for manual operation. This technology is particularly useful for both residential and commercial properties, offering enhanced security, convenience, and aesthetic appeal.

2. Factors Influencing the Price of Automatic Sliding Gate Openers

a. Gate Size and Weight: The primary factor affecting the price of an automatic sliding gate opener is the size and weight of the gate it will operate. Larger and heavier gates require more powerful motors and robust mechanisms, which increase the cost. For instance, a gate that weighs up to 1,000 pounds might cost between $300 and $500 for a basic opener, whereas heavier gates can push the cost to over $1,000.

b. Motor Power and Type: The motor's power, measured in horsepower (HP), directly influences the price. Higher horsepower motors can handle heavier gates and provide more reliable performance. Typical openers range from 1/2 HP to 1 HP. A more powerful motor generally costs more, but it ensures better durability and efficiency.

c. Material and Build Quality: The build quality and materials used in the gate opener also affect the price. Openers made from high-quality, weather-resistant materials tend to be more expensive but offer better longevity and performance. Look for openers made with corrosion-resistant metals and durable plastic components for enhanced durability.

d. Features and Technology: Modern automatic sliding gate openers come with a range of features that can influence their cost. Basic models might include simple remote control operation, while more advanced systems offer features such as:

Keypad Entry: Allows access via a numeric code.

RFID Technology: Uses radio-frequency identification for keyless entry.

Battery Backup: Ensures operation during power outages.

Safety Sensors: Prevents the gate from closing on obstacles.

Smartphone Integration: Enables control through mobile apps.

Each of these features can add to the overall price of the opener.

e. Installation and Labor Costs: Installation costs can vary based on the complexity of the system and the region. Professional installation is recommended to ensure proper setup and operation, and these services can range from $200 to $500 or more, depending on the installation's complexity and your location.

f. Brand and Warranty: Reputable brands often charge a premium for their products due to their reliability and customer support. Additionally, a good warranty can add value by providing peace of mind and protection against defects and malfunctions. Extended warranties or service plans can also impact the overall cost.

3. Average Price Ranges

To give you a clearer picture, here’s a general breakdown of the price ranges you can expect for automatic sliding gate openers:

Basic Models: $300 to $500

These are suitable for lighter gates and offer essential features such as remote control operation.

Mid-Range Models: $500 to $800

These often come with additional features like safety sensors and battery backups, and can handle medium to heavy gates.

High-End Models: $800 to $1,500+

These are designed for heavy-duty gates and include advanced features such as smartphone integration, robust safety systems, and high-powered motors.

4. Choosing the Right Opener for Your Needs

When selecting an automatic sliding gate opener, consider the following:

Gate Specifications: Ensure the opener you choose is compatible with the size and weight of your gate.

Feature Requirements: Determine which features are essential for your needs and budget.

Installation Needs: Factor in installation costs and whether you need professional help.

Long-Term Costs: Consider the durability of the opener and potential maintenance costs.

5. Conclusion

Investing in an automatic sliding gate opener is a smart choice for enhancing your property’s security and convenience. By understanding the factors that influence the price and carefully evaluating your needs, you can make a well-informed decision that balances functionality, durability, and cost. Whether you opt for a basic model or a high-end system, the right gate opener will provide years of reliable service and added peace of mind.

[ragingbookdragon]

You're Feeling Ten For Ten

Task Force 141 x Reader (Actually Reader x Ghost if you look close enough) One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Hey I made a part two. Happy now? Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The little breakroom is cozy, she decides as she plants her ass on the couch and props her legs on the other side. Cozy enough that she can already imagine some of her things here and there. A bag of Black Ivory coffee beans beside a La Marzocco Strada Electronic Paddle, a seventeenth century Persian rug, a Parsifal Round Fendi couch complete with a Metropolis coffee table, the ideas are endless, and she can’t help but begin to call in orders from her high end clients. It’s the center of her focus until a ringtone echoes from the coffee table and, her being who she is, reaches over and takes the iPhone, carefully looking over the contact.

Nannie Moira? Must be the Scots granny, she thinks and answers the phone.

“Hello!” she chirps politely and the response she gets is not one she expects.

John?

“I’ve been called quite a few things in my life, but ‘John’ has never been one of them.” She’s already pulling up the 141’s files, sliding to “John MacTavish” before she enters “Moira MacTavish” into a search bar. Of course, she comes up within the first ten searches and she smiles.

Oh, Christ, I thought I’d rung my ogha.

“Oh, you did, Missus Moira,” she answers. “I’m afraid John is out right now, but he left his phone and you seemed quite important, so why not answer?” she smiles. “John talks quite a bit about you Missus Moira.” Her eyes scan the newspaper articles from Stirling, Family of Five Killed In Massive Car Pile-Up, Leaves Boy, Two, Orphaned. “Best woman he knows, yes?”

Aye, my ogha, John. Raised the lad myself.

“Missus Moira—”

Call me Nannie Moira, darling. Any friend of John’s is a child o’ mine.

“Of course, Nannie Moira,” she smiles. “So, tell me more of John. He’s so tight-lipped about himself.”

Oh, I can talk for hours of my ogha. Did you know—

***

It’s a good half hour before the door to the break room opens and in piles four men who stop like deer in headlights as they take in the woman—they do not know—sitting on their couch, laughing as she answers, “Nannie Moira! You did not say that to Johnny’s girlfriend!” Whatever response she gets, they can tell it makes her laugh because she presses the back of her hand to her mouth.

Soap’s already headed her way at the mention of his grandmother; she bats at his hand when he tries to take the phone from her. “Oh, Nannie, I think John just got back, would you like to talk to him?” she holds out the phone expectingly and chastises, “Nannie’s very upset you didn’t call her last night.”

He takes the phone, “Nannie, are you alright?...well, yes, I know I didn’t call, I was—yes, Nannie…yes ma’am…I promise I will call you tomorrow night…I love you, Nannie.” He hangs up and glares down at her. “Congratulations, you’re invited to midnight mass on Christmas Eve.”

“Can’t wait,” she replies with a smirk and turns her gaze to Ghost. “Hi, Simon.”

“How,” he starts darkly and stalks towards her in slow, warning steps. “Did you get in here?”

She blinks owlishly at him. “Let’s see, I forged a key card, showed it to the enlisted at the gate, and you might want to actually enlighten them on who they should and should not let it, and walked right in.” she sniffs and tips her head to the air vent that they now notice is missing a covering. “Air vent was a little snug too.”

“I’ve half a mind to arrest you.”

“Oh, I can agree you do have half a mind. It’s why you’ve never managed to beat me in any fight we have.” She raises her hands like she’s waiting cuffs. “Go ahead. But if you arrest me, you won’t have a way to blow up that Syrian power plant you all are planning without leaving someone behind to make sure it does.”

That stops all of them and they stare at her, Price especially when he walks over. “You’re the woman Soap mentioned.” They all ignore how Ghost absolutely glowers at Soap who has now found the ceiling much more interesting. “How much do you know?”

“About the power plant or the mission?”

“All of it.”

She taps a pointer to her chin. “Well, that’s no fun to tell and not get rewarded. I’m not a good girl unless I get a reward, Captain Price,” she purrs and gazes at him. “In return for this information, I’m going to give you my file and you will strongly consider my…introduction, into the 141.”

“No, absolutely not,” Ghost gripes. “I am not working with you.”

“Oh, don’t hurt my feelings, Simon. We both know you and I work so well.”

“You are a killer.”

“I’m a murderer of very bad people, the same as you. So, I’d be careful waving that hypocrisy stick around—might end up with it too far up your ass.”

Ghost turns to Price. “Her name is Spades, she’s an international assassin responsible for taking out targets with the biggest bounties.”

“So, by technicality, I’m a bounty hunter,” she adds. “He’s right though, I do take out quite a few bounties. But believe it or not, the most scandalous thing about me is that I am a morally good assassin. I don’t kill good people. Only very, very, very bad people. Like the Guestroom Butcher.” She ignores the shocked stares. “God, I had to spend months in London before I got that guy. I hate London.”

“You—you killed the Guestroom Butcher?” the fourth man asks, and she peers at him.

“You must be Gaz. And yes, I did. His name was Albert Franklin. A physics teacher at a local secondary school who was a janitor part time. Spent years traveling to different guestrooms all over London to murder tourists. Such an odd man. He talked a lot before I killed him. Kept muttering something about his late wife being killed by tourists decades prior. Sad, but understandable as to why he targeted tourists.”

“And how do we know you killed him?” Gaz inquires.

“Well, my name isn’t Spades for a reason, dear,” she explains and looks at Simon. “Have my card still?” He wordlessly pulls it out and hands it to Gaz, who looks over it. “That’s my calling card. I leave it on bodies so that police know I was there. Look up the case on the internet. There’s a photo of my card.”

“How do you know someone didn’t forge this?”

“All my cards are made by hand, with gold inlay. Signed too. No one can forge my card. And no one in the business is foolish enough to get on my radar for pretending to be me. I’m one of the best there is for a reason.”

Price looks at her. “How do you know about the mission?”

“Simon forgets that he shouldn’t carry around information on a phone.”

“It was locked,” is all he replies when Price glares at him.

“Oh, it was, I unlocked it with a hacker’s bypass.” She clears her throat. “As for the mission…I know the logistics of what you’re planning. I know someone is going to have to stay behind to make sure the pressure in the facility gets high enough that it blows. I also have a bypass for that in which we don’t have to hold a funeral for someone here.”

They stare at her, watching, waiting.

She lifts a small plug, no bigger than a thumb. “This, is a kill-switch made by one of the scientists who helped build the power plant. When the Syrian government found out he was gay, they had him executed. Before that, he made this as insurance and sold it to the black market the United States frequents. I paid quite a pretty penny for it.”

“What’s it do?” Soap asks.

“This little plug will directly overload the system in fifteen minutes. There is no way to stop the overload once it’s been activated by this. That’s why it’s the kill-switch.” She rolls it in her fingers. “You insert this into the mainframe and in exactly fifteen minutes, you blow everything in a ten mile radius to kingdom come.” She smiles. “Only takes five to get out of the facility and to the rescue chopper. Ten minutes to get outside the blast radius.”

They’re silent and she knows she’s found her entrance point as she rises from the couch; their eyes follow her.

“I’ll be in my quarters. Simon, I chose the room between you and Gaz since it was vacant. Oh, and Captain Price, there’s going to be quite a few boxes being delivered to the base in the next two hours. If you would, have someone bring them to my room so I can set them up.” she gathers her things. “Also, if one of you, I’m hoping it’ll be Soap, can help me move out all that ugly military furniture from my quarters, I would appreciate it.”

She walks past them without a care in the world.

“Can’t believe you plebians live like this. What ever happened to having good furniture and a supported spinal column when you sleep?”

The door closes behind her and Simon’s the first to break the silence. “You’re just going to let her stay?”

Price glares at him. “The fuck am I supposed to do? She looks more prepared for our mission than we are right now.”

Ghost growls, legitimately growls, and says, “I cannot believe I have to fucking work with her.”

This, doesn’t stop Soap from raising his hand and asking, “Wait, so fraternization only works on folks in the military right?”

“SOAP, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

[jack-kellys]

hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk

bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)

tyy :))

hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)

ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!

The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.

School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.

And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.

“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.

“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.

“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”

“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”

“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.

“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”

“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”

David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”

“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”

That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”

Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.

“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”

For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.

David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–

“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”

David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.

“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”

“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”

That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.

“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.

“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.

His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.

“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”

His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”

Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…

In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.

Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.

“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.

“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.

“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”

This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.

“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”

“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”

Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.

“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”

David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.

“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.

“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”

[butchkaramazov]

they say the world will end in a whisper, a moan, a murmur, an apology. my world ended one scream at a time. the scream of copper on my tongue and glass sliding into my ribcage and blood on the plastic and nails digging into my fist and the silent, silent scream of my breath. they say the world will end and all will be holy, and all will return to god and be free. they never mentioned the part where blood stains your fingers and there’s orange juice on your lips right where she rubbed it off your chin with a finger holier than god’s. and he opens the gates to heaven and reaches to rub the sin off of my bloodstained hands and he speaks to me through the flashing lights and he tells me i am holy, i’m holy i’m holy i’m holy—and for a moment i believe it— but then i feel the glass still lodged in my ribcage and the phlegm in my throat and the dried blood on my cheek and i smile. i never take his hand. * i’m lying somewhere blue and green and red and black and the screeches of angels still hums in my ears— this is the price to pay for sinning, for loving, for sinning, for loving, for sinning for sinning for sinning for sinning for sinning and for not taking god’s hand when he rubbed the crime off of my hands forsaking the giver of life, the giver of everything that lived, everything that breathed— but then—before i lived, i loved. it’s funny to think of life when you’re lying on a hospital bed and you can’t hear your heartbeat and you feel it hammering in your chest— hammering against that shard of glass lodged in my ribcage hammering against the flowers growing on my bones— and there’s fingers—claws—feeling my pulse and it’s fading and they’re screaming and it’s fading and they’re laughing and it’s fading and they’re smiling and it’s fading and i’m smiling— you’re holding the gate to somewhere, and it’s somewhere red and black and bloody and i can feel its hot breath on my cheek but you take my bloodstained hands in yours and you kiss my knuckles and god watches as you kiss my sins away— and the angels are screaming and god is screaming and they tell me i’m unholy i’m unholy i’m unholy a sinner a sinner a sinner but you take this sinner’s hands and you call them yours and you reach for my cheek and your fingertips brush against my lips and you’re calling and god’s calling and i can feel the apple i’d stolen stuck in the corner of my throat and he’s clawing at me, be mine, be holy, be holy, be holy be holy be holy but your hands reach for mine, yet again— and what is heaven to me if not your shaky breath on my neck and your trembling hand on my cheek— and i look between god’s white hand and your broken fingers— and i take yours. there’s something in those fingers, twisted by something stronger than godhood—and yet willing to call this sinner’s hands their own. there’s something in those fingers, reaching for mine, that divinity kneels to. and when i look up, god is on his knees.

—ahana

[penig]

So we're having a rough summer and I haven't been talking about it because why brood but it's different when you talk about people being nice. So, thumbnail sketch:

We finally (as I've been wanting to do for years) got an estimate on getting the house rewired (pretty sure some of the original wiring installed in 1910 is in use) and partially replumbed (can't use the shower tub because the iron pipes are too clogged), and the paperwork for the loan took forever, and then a high wind came along (on my birthday) and dropped a dead redbud tree on our porch and a large branch on our car, which was totaled, and we had to buy a new (used) car and get a tree service to come out and take care of the fallen wood and trim the trees so no more wood falls, but the cost to take care of the big branch and woodpecker damaged tree in the back yard was more than we could afford with the car business, but that could wait a few months assuming no more high winds come along; and the loan comes through and we get the car squared away and the tree service is scheduled to come and we're starting to breathe again -

And I spy somebody putting what I recognize as a code violation notice on the front gate so I open the door and come out to tell her that if this is about the redbud tree on the porch we've already scheduled the work and she says: "It's everything on the lot. Cut it down to 12 inches. You have ten days" So I point out that most of the tall stuff is legal garden plants that should not be pruned in August, that it's two years since I've been physically capable of doing yardwork of any kind, that the work she's demanding is impossible in that time frame and oh yes, it's August, in Texas, with triple digit temperatures predicted for the foreseeable future and it could very well kill me to try. She thought there might be a local program to help me (No; they're all for structural work) and wouldn't budge. So that was like being shoved back underwater when we'd almost crawled out on shore.

But we put out a call to our friends, and people came over Saturday and did miracles, and almost every day this week somebody has come over (in addition to the people putting holes in our walls and ceilings and arguing over how to run the wires and occasionally turning pale at what they find) to help me in the mornings before the third digit kicked in. We did not, of course prune any of the poor heat stressed legal plants, but great inroads were made on the rest of it, and one friend even cut up the big branch in the back yard and the tree service people hauled it off, along with a collapsed picnic table which they told me, when they quoted the price for this small secondary job, that they would not take.

This morning I could barely move. I'm getting a lot of pain in the good leg as well as the bad leg, and in my back, plus I was just weak with heat and tiredness, and for the first time in almost a year I decided I'd better break out the cane again, at least to take the stairs and walk in the yard to discuss with the friend who came today, the last day before the inspection, where best to put his effort (because it was plain to both of us that I wasn't lifting a finger) in order to convince the inspector that we really had done the best we could and to let the stuff we couldn't get to slide until fall and spring.

And I guess one of the workmen noticed the cane, and noticed that the handrail on the upper staircase had pulled out of the wall on one end (it had been anchored to the sheetrock, not the wall proper; the other end was anchored in paneling and was fine; this happened a couple of months ago and we had bigger worries), and just - fixed it. Because it's certainly fixed now. As is typical in Texas most of the workmen are people I can't even talk to because my Spanish is as bad as their English, so it's not as if we've made friends with them. And I didn't see it done, nor did the foreman know who did it when I brought it up and asked him to thank whoever it was, so it wasn't somebody looking to make points. They just saw a chance to do a small simple thing to benefit a total stranger, and did it.

The point here being that two people - whoever called in the code complaint (seriously, that should be illegal in August, at least for yard code with no clear and present danger) and the city employee who wouldn't listen to reason - went out of their way to force me to focus on the least pressing problem facing us right now at the expense of my own well-being. But they are far, far outnumbered by the people who have gone out of their way to help us, just because we needed help.

So, suck it, cynicism!

[munson-blurbs]

Hiiiiiiiiiiii this is hellfirehottie420 here to drool about argyle. Maybe you could write something where he’s a protective soft dom and you’re both just big Simps for each other and you’re passenger princess while he sells to a few people and then y’all hang out the the elder Hawkins crew? 🥺🥺🥺

But literally I’ll ready anything you write so do whatever you want with it angel

Welcome to the Argyle Simps Club, @hellfirehottie420 💚 we've been waiting for you.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (m!receiving), dom/sub dynamics, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, babes), mentions of drug use/dealing, slight dacryphilia if you squint, use of "good girl"

WC: 1.6k

--

“Hey, baby,” Argyle says, kissing you sweetly as you slide into the passenger seat of his van. “How was work?” 

You sigh, leaning back on the headrest, and look over at him. “I mean, y’know how it is,” you tell him as you stifle a yawn, “the flowers are great; the customers are brutal.” You sit up a bit straighter, resting your hand on his. “Some woman came in, super pissed off, because the bouquet she bought last week wilted, and demanded a refund. I literally had to explain to a grown-ass woman that flowers die.”

Your boyfriend laughs, pressing his lips to your cheek, and you feel yourself smiling despite your stressful day. “Pretty sure the same lady came into Surfer Boy today, too. She ate three slices of pizza and then complained that they had the wrong toppings.”

“Sounds like her,” you wryly agree. “Anyway, I just wanna get home and cuddle up, watch a movie, maybe smoke a little bit.” You bat your eyelashes and twirl a lock of his long raven hair, a move you know he can’t resist. 

“You read my mind, amor,” Argyle says. “I just have to do a quick deal, and then you have me all to yourself.”

You jut out your lower lip in a pout. “But I want all of you now,” you whine, not even attempting to hide the double entendre. 

Argyle leans in, voice low and raspy in your ear. “You’re being a brat.” The words send shivers down your spine, and you reflexively squeeze your thighs together. “I’m gonna remember that later.”

A whimper escapes you, and you watch as the corners of his mouth twitch into a proud smirk. He knows the effect he has on you, and he’s not afraid to lean into it. His left hand grips the steering wheel, and his right hand lands on your upper thigh, fingertips gently digging into their plush. He leans back in his seat, more than happy to feel you squirm at the barest touch. 

He pulls into the public pool’s parking lot, reaches across the console like you’re not even there, and grabs a baggie from the glove compartment. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles. “Be a good girl and stay right here, mmkay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you manage, and he slams the van door shut and jogs off. 

You fiddle with the radio, flipping back and forth between the Top 40 station and Argyle’s usual ska. When both are only playing commercials, you snap the music off and let your mind wander. 

What’s my punishment gonna be this time? Maybe I can weasel my way out of it if I give him a sexy surprise. 

Where is he, anyway?

His deals usually take 30 seconds, especially with established clients. He’d been dealing to this lifeguard for the whole summer, so it shouldn’t take this long. 

Just as you’re about to get out and start looking for him—punishment be damned—he walks back through the gate, looking irritated. 

“Baby?” you say when he gets back to the van. “What happened?”

Argyle flings his door open before climbing in and angrily yanking it shut. “Fuckin’ idiot, trying to tell me that I charged him less last week,” he grumbles, starting the engine and accelerating back onto the main road. “I was like, ‘nah, bro, this is the same price as it’s been the whole summer,’ but he kept fuckin’ insisting that I was ripping him off.”

Your boyfriend rarely gets pissed off, so seeing him so distressed catches you off-guard. “Are you okay? Did he—he didn’t hurt you, right?”

Argyle scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s too much of a punk for that.” He pulls up to a red light, sitting up a bit straighter, and continues. “He was like, ‘didn’t get enough tips today, Pizza Boy? Gotta upsell this trash pot?’” 

“What’d you do?”

He shrugs. “Sold it to him for what he wanted, then told him to find a new dealer. But now I gotta dip into my own funds to cover the difference,” he groans, slamming a fist against the wheel. 

You pause, considering your options to get him back to his typical happy-go-lucky self. You could continue talking to him about it, or…

At the next red light, you toy with the elastic waistband of his neon pants, sliding your hand down his boxers. He hisses at the sudden contact. 

“P-Princesa, what’re you—” But you interrupt his question by wrapping your hand around his cock; it’s already half-hard. Slowly stroking him, you glide your thumb over the bead of pre-cum at his tip, using it to help your languid motions. 

“I can feel you growing in my hand,” you murmur. “Wonder what it would feel like in my mouth.” With that, you free his length from its confinement, leaning down and taking him between your parted lips. Your tongue swirls around the head, making him buck his hips slightly. 

“Thassit, baby,” Argyle grunts, lazily grabbing at the back of your head. “You know exactly how to make me feel better. Always such a good girl f’me.” 

You nod as best as you can with his cock still in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and opening your throat to take him deeper. 

“Don’t stop till we get back home,” he orders, struggling to stay focused on the road. “Even if I cum, just swallow an’ keep going.”

You don’t answer him directly; instead, you use your hand to tend to the parts you can’t reach with your mouth. He sighs in contentment. 

“Sh-shit, ‘s like all my problems disappear when you suck me off,” he muses, stretching his legs as much as he can. “Hit the fuckin’ jackpot with you, baby.” In response, you remove your hand from his shaft and take as much of him in your mouth as you can. The van veers slightly into the next lane, and Argyle lets out a guttural, wanton moan as he pulls over to the shoulder. You’re caught off-guard when he nudges you upwards, and his cock slips from your lips with a wet pop.

“Wasn’t done,” you whine, leaning back down to continue, but he shakes his head. Beads of sweat make his hair stick to his forehead.

“Ride me, Princesa,” Argyle groans, helping you onto his lap. You tug his pants down slightly, revealing more of his thick, muscular thighs. He bunches your skirt up around your waist, clumsily pushing your panties to the side as he runs his hard cock through your wet folds. Knowing that he hasn’t fully prepped you yet, he slowly eases you down onto his length. “Take your time, baby,” he coos, putting his big hands on your hips as you get comfortable. “You’ll get there; you can take all of me. ‘S no rush, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you manage, wincing slightly as he stretches you. You’ve been together for ages, but you’re still pleasantly surprised at the way he feels inside you. “‘M good now. J-Just…help me move?”

His hands grip your hips tighter, helping you rock back and forth. You drape your arms over his broad shoulders, throwing your head back as he hits your sweet spot over and over. “You’re doing such a good job,” he praises, stretching up to kiss you deeply. “My pretty girl, riding me so nice. Making me feel so–fucking–good.” He snaps his hips upwards, quickening the pace and thrusting you full-throttle towards your own orgasm. 

“Gonna cum,” you choke out, tears pooling in your eyes at the sensation of him filling you completely. 

Argyle smirks, cocking his head slightly. “Gotta ask first, pretty girl. You know you’re not supposed to cum without permission.”

Frustrated, you cry out, “Please, please let me cum. ‘M s’close, please.” You sound so pathetic, so needy. It’s exactly what he wants.

“Cum for me,” he relinquishes, pressing a thumb to your clit and making quick but deliberate circles. “Cum all over my cock.” The overstimulation has you doing exactly what he says, and the coil in your belly snaps as you ride out your high. He’s spilling into you seconds later, sputtering and swearing.

The two of you stay connected for a few moments, catching your breath and kissing each other. “I gotta move you now, Princesa,” Argyle finally says, and you mewl as he helps you off of his softening cock. A mixture of your releases trickles down your thigh, and he scoops it up with two fingers and brings it to your lips. You accept it, earning yourself another good girl.

The rest of the short ride home is spent in a delicious post-sex haze. You’re so fucked out that you barely register the old, beat-up El Camino in the driveway.

“Shit!” Argyle slams his hands against the steering wheel, jolting you from your daze. “I totally forgot that I told Byers we’d go see a movie tonight.” Sure enough, Jonathan is sitting on the front stoop, smoking a joint. When he spots the Surfer Boy Pizza van, he snuffs it out and walks over.

“Hey, man…and lady,” he laughs, running his fingers through his overgrown shaggy hair. “Dude, we still on for tonight, or do you have, uh, other plans?” he adds, taking in both of your disheveled appearances.

Argyle gives a sheepish grin. “Raincheck? I’ll buy the popcorn, I swear.” 

Jonathan just chuckles again, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Nah, man, it’s cool. Will was dying to see it anyway, so I’ll just take him.” He unlocks his car, throwing over his shoulder, “You kids have fun…but not too much fun!”

“Baby,” you start, kissing Argyle’s cheek happily, “you coulda gone to the movies with him. I wouldn’t mind.”

“‘S cool,” he replies, giving you a smug grin. “Besides, I still owe you your punishment for being such a little brat earlier, don’t I?”

--

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Part 10: Hope

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV  

A/N: Hello!! I am back! Thank you all for being so patient and amazing, I present to you, Chapter 10!

I will be adding warnings/tags as I upload new chapters so do me a huge favor and double check before you read! Nothing too bad YET but just make it a habit! They will always be added at the top of the list.

Words: 6k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag list: @urfavsunkissedleo @butskii @abbiesxox @itsasecrets-things @thatonewriterthatnooneknows  

    ★Flash   

The knife squelches grotesquely when Ghost pulls it from the man's neck, and it's casually wiped on the waist of his button-up. Red blossoms over the white cotton and despite knowing it's not from him, Flash can't help the small hitch in her breath.

It's presented to her hilt first, just inches from her face, but she's frozen in shock. The man's body lay awkwardly in the gravel, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, blood pouring from the now open wound at his neck. His chest stutters in an effort to pull oxygen into a pair of failing lungs. She can see the glowing reflection of windows in his wide, dark eyes, and moments later, the slow loosening of his facial muscles as he dies.

Ghost is watching her, and she can hear a faint mumble. Her name?

"Flash. We need to go" Ghost's words ring through her head like a bell and she snatches the knife from his hand before sliding it under her dress and into the sheath.

He moves quickly, throwing the limp body over his shoulder with ease before walking to the car and popping the trunk. Flash's eyes are glued to him as he drops the body in. The thud when it lands is deafening. A hot flash washes up her spine and she tries not to think about how casually Ghost closes the trunk and wipes his hands clean on his trousers.

Not quite knowing how to help, Flash walks over to the small patch of blood and kicks at the gravel. It doesn't do much, just creates a dusty sludge that bleeds into the soft velvet of her heels. Not that it matters though, the man's radio is already going off, a muffled and rather irritated voice calling out from inside the trunk.

When she's satisfied with the muddy brown concoction, Flash jogs over to the passenger door and slips inside. The door barely clicks shut before Ghost is speeding out the gates and swerving around a rather annoyed looking valet.

Flash watches over her shoulder for any sign of disturbance but instead notices Ghost's wolf mask tossed haphazardly on the back seat. In all the chaos, she'd missed him swapping them out. His usual balaclava has been pulled back on, hiding the strawberry blonde curls she'd had her hands in just minutes ago.

Flash's head thuds against the seat when she's finally sure no one is coming after them and she sags further down into the plush leather.

"Holy fuck." She breathes out and swallows what could either be vomit or a laugh. "There's a body in the trunk."

"Yes."

"You just killed him."

"I did."

"How did you-"

"Flash?" He interrupts her, eyes not leaving the road as he speaks. "Be quiet."

She glares at him and turns to make an off-hand comment about him being an ass but stops when she sees how rigid he is. Maybe she'd pushed a bit too far tonight. Maybe she hadn't pushed him far enough.

"How do you know he's not innocent?" She speaks softer this time, hoping she could sweet talk him back into the charismatic James she'd spent the night with.

"No one there is innocent Flash." His voice is cold and distant and entirely fed up with her pushing. She's on thin, thin ice.

"You could at least let me know next time. That really wasn't a fair warning."

It's petty. She doesn't need his warning, it's their job. But her mouth seems to be speaking on its own accord.

The ice cracks, echoing through the cavernous silence between them, and right as she's about to slip into the frigid waters, a life raft is thrown her way.

'What's your status?'

Price's static voice stops Ghost's response and he snatches the radio from where Flash had tossed it in the cup holder.

"Heading to the med bay now. Single casualty."

'Got caught up at the end then?'

"Somethin' like that."

The rest of the ride to the med bay is spent in silence. Flash stroking her fingers down the velvet nose of her mask and not thinking about ways to flay Ghost.

_____

    The cold concrete of the barricade seeps through the thin silk of Flash's dress and into the marrow of her bones. Despite Las Almas being a sauna during the day, its nights are shockingly cold, and in the middle of the desert with no buildings to block the brutal midnight wind, she is freezing.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Flash speaks into the cupped hollow of her hands. The warmth of her breath does practically nothing to stop the shivering.

Ghost had radioed into the med station a few minutes before their arrival to announce that they'd have a 'drop off' and to call in another car for the two of them to take back to the base. When they'd gotten there, Flash was immediately tugged through the main bay and into a blindingly white room that smelled so strongly of disinfectant, her nose still burned. She was patted over by a female nurse, given a curt nod, and pushed back out the door and towards a waiting Ghost. He'd mumbled something about waiting for a car and then walked them outside to a small retaining wall near the entrance.

"I don't know."

"Can't you just call them?" Flash asks, kicking another piece of gravel across the lot. The kicking had started as an attempt to scrape the congealed dirt and blood off her heel, but it only resulted in a thin layer of dust that covered both their shoes and a small hole.

"Call who Flash?" Ghost sits half hunched on the wall, arms supporting him on either side, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking utterly defeated.

"I don't know? The guy who's bringing the car?" She kicks a particularly large rock and it skitters across the pavement and bounces off a metal barrel, making a satisfying ring, so she does it again.

"I don't have-" His voice cuts off as she kicks another rock. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Could you stop?"

"Don't be so fuckin' rude." She mumbles, and just to piss him off more, kicks another rock. Hard enough that when it hits the barrel, a small dent is left behind.

Flash watches through her periphery as he heaves a sigh, drops his head into his hands, and roughly rubs at his masked face.

She only lets herself feel guilty for a moment. He was the one ruining it. She'd been having fun at the gala. Despite the less than stimulating conversations, watching Ghost woo the various partygoers of Las Almas had been rather intriguing. Not to mention the dancing. Jesus Christ the dancing.

While the banter with the rest of the team had never gone as far as fucking her for god's sake, they certainly weren't holding church sermons. Price had chided her more than once for distracting the team while they were on the field and she was resting comfortably on the couch, radio in hand.

As soon as the words had left her mouth though, muttered into the silken hollow of his collarbone, she knew they were true. As much as he frustrated her, there was something about his presence that activated something primal inside her. That same primal feeling that had surfaced when she'd had him pinned to the ground and wheezing beneath her. It was addictive and dangerous.

"I'm sorry."

The words are spoken into the palms of his hands and although they sound forced, they seem genuine enough. She breaks from her all consuming thoughts and tugs at the hem of her dress in hopes that it would somehow extend to cover the bare few inches of skin that press into the cold concrete.

"Just don't be so uptight all the time." Flash bumps his shoulder with hers and offers him a small smile. "You'd be surprised how much better your life would be if you stopped all your huffing and puffing."

"You don't know shit about my life." The words are meant to be sharp, to ward her away from prodding further, but he speaks to his dust covered shoes.

"So tell me."

This stops Ghost's fidgeting. Flash thinks for a moment that he'll get up and walk away, leaving her to freeze to death alone. But he eventually drops his hands to his lap and raises his head to stare at the dark horizon.

"It's a lot."

Flash, despite his hunched frame and tired eyes, bumps their shoulders again.

"I don't see the car, and you can see for- I don't know," She peers dramatically down the road, "about ten miles."

"Ask Soap. He's a better storyteller than me." Ghost words are shortening, and Flash can see the wall she'd so carelessly blown through rebuilding. He's evading, and if she doesn't save it in time, who knows how long it will be until he's talking to her again.

"But I don't want to hear from Soap."

"You don't want to hear it from me either."

Flash sighs and then redirects. "What's your biggest fear?"

Ghost stills next to her, but this time she can see the hard set of his eyes softening, reluctance slipping away into indulgence.

"I thought you wanted to know about my life." He comments lightly, and Flash can't help but feel accomplished for recovering what little progress she'd made.

"I think fears tell a lot about a person." She hums, hoping her last-ditch effort at having a conversation sounds at least somewhat inquisitive.

Ghost's head tips up towards the sky, brow furrowed in thought.

"Throwing up."

"That's your biggest fear?" Flash doesn't have to ask to know that he's humoring her.

"What? Did you expect somethin' worse?"

There's a beat of silence, and then Ghost is speaking again.

"What's yours?"

"Dogs."

Silence again.

"Like pugs? Or-"

Flash shoves his shoulder and laughs loudly. "No you asshole. The big ones."

Despite the topic, a whirlwind of butterflies erupts in her stomach and the sound of their fluttering reaches her ears, filling them with a low hum. Then he's laughing. Not the small huffs from their usual teasing, full-stomach laughs. The whirlwind turns into a storm. It ravages her mind, twirling the sound into a song and repeating it over and over.

Flash stares at him, speechless, afraid that if she speaks, the storm brewing inside her will somehow escape and drench the both of them in things she'd rather leave unsaid. She wants to tell him to never stop, to ask exactly what she'd said that was so funny so she could repeat it every day for the rest of their time together. To peel off that damn mask and watch every minuscule movement of his face.

Ghost doesn't seem to mind the lack of response though. When his amusement has faded to a small smile under his mask, his head lolls to his shoulder and he closes his eyes.

They wait the rest of the time in silence. Ghost unmoving and still resting his eyes and Flash unabashedly staring. Even though she knows that the idea is ridiculous, he seems to be warming the space between them. The ice that she'd so carefully tread on before melting away.

He doesn't open his eyes until the car rolls up in front of them and a casually dressed man tosses the keys in his direction. Ghost catches them in his hand and stretches languidly when he stands, revealing a small sliver of skin along his waistline. With his back turned to her, Flash stares at the strip, burning it into her memory.

"You can kick rocks all night," Ghost slips his hands into his pockets and starts a slow, casual walk towards the car, "but you're not going to get what you want."

"And what's that?"

Flash's question is meant to be coy, to push yet another button. But the song left playing in her ears softens her words, they come out quiet and searching.

"A reaction." He punctuates the last word by kicking a rock at the barrel. It hits the small dent that she'd made and ricochets back to land just a few inches from her feet.

"Asshole." She mutters and steps over the rock, ignoring the urge to pick it up and chuck it at his head.

Flash bites her tongue when the thought of teasing him about their dancing comes up. She'd most definitely gotten a reaction out of him then. But she instead follows him and slips into the passenger seat of the small truck.

It's certainly a downgrade from the Porsche. The smell of dust and sweat fills her nose and she debates waiting outside until the med team is done clearing the other car. But Ghost is already buckled and turning the key in the ignition.

"Who's car was that?" Flash asks while pulling a worn seatbelt over her shoulder.

"Alejandro's."

She can't help but laugh at his response. They'd most likely be getting an earful upon their return. It doesn't take a genius to see that he takes care of his car.

The truck, despite running just seconds ago, is just as cold as the air outside. When she jams her finger into the heater button, the vents remain stagnant.

"Shit." She huffs and resorts to shoving her hands under her shivering thighs.

Ghost, seemingly without thinking, tosses her his suit jacket.

"Here, stop whining." He's back to his gruff, nonchalant manner of speaking, but it lacks its usual stiffness.

"You aren't cold?"

"No."

"I guess you are built like a fuckin' polar bear." The words slip out before she can stop them, but Ghost just shakes his head, still sporting the small smile from before.

"Do you ever have any consequences for what comes out of your mouth?" Ghost's question is spoken as a sigh. He props an elbow against the car door and leans his head against it, steering with one hand. The motion is achingly domestic.

"No." Her reply is muffled as she burrows herself into the jacket, warm from being stuffed under Ghost's arm while they waited.

It's true. There's very little that she could say or do that would get her in any sort of trouble. She's a hot commodity, and it didn't take much for people to realize. Ghost just hasn't had a chance to see it yet.

"One of these days, they're going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Oh, you'll scare them away." She looks up at him through her lashes, but he's focused on the road.

"I'd let them get a few good hits in. Then maybe."

Flash's grin is hidden beneath the coat, but she's sure he can hear it when she speaks next.

"You wouldn't protect me?" Her question is coy. She knows it and he probably does too.

"You don't need me to protect you."

"But if I asked you to?"

There's a pause, and she watches his side profile shift as he clenches his jaw. His fingers tap against the steering wheel. Once, twice.

"Yes."

_____

    They're nearly back to the base when she slips back onto the ice and into the freezing water. This time though, there is no life raft.

"I'm dropping you off." Ghost is exacerbated, clenching the wheel with both hands now. "You're not missing out on anything."

"Then why does it matter if I go or not?" Her question is a half yell, quieter than her first complaint, but louder than necessary.

Their easy back and forth, borderline flirting, conversation only lasted a few more minutes before Ghost mentioned he'd be dropping her off at the base before meeting the rest of the team at a local bar to 'celebrate'.

He'd told her, not asked. Told.

The not so quiet rage that had been building over her last few weeks stuck at the base rears its ugly head. Apparently pinning him to a mat didn't make it clear enough. She's tired of decisions being made for her.

"Because you aren't needed there."

Ghost's words bleed through her like a freezing wind. She grapples to hold onto the song in her ears, but the fluttering in her stomach increases and this time it's deafening.

"You know, for how much you mope. You put a shit ton of effort into ruining your friendships."

It's a low blow. But the anger burning hot in her stomach scorches the fluttering and thrums through her veins. She wants to hurt him.

"There's nothing there to be ruined."

The words are empty. A shell of his earlier reprimands. And Flash knows it's a weak strategy to push her far enough away that he can rebuild his wall in peace. But that doesn't stop the words from burrowing deep into the space between her ribs and wrapping around her lungs. It fills them with a cold air and the jacket still wrapped tightly around her shoulders does nothing to fight it.

"Okay." Flash bites back the flurry of emotion driven insults threatening to pry their way out of her mouth. If it were anyone else, she wouldn't hesitate to rip them to shreds, but she knows Ghost is lying.

The rest of the ride to the base is a painful silence. Flash can see his jaw working in her periphery, he wants to say something, but he remains quiet and focused on the road ahead of them. She glares at him and then turns to stare out her window.

When the car whines to a stop in front of the depressingly dark outline of their base, Flash doesn't bother saying goodbye when she slips from the car and drops the suit jacket on her seat. She's just about to shut the door when he finally speaks up.

"Hope."

"What?" Flash's voice is bitter and unrelenting.

"You asked what my biggest fear was." He doesn't look away from his grip on the wheel. "It's hope."

The furrow of her brow softens for a moment and sympathy begins to ebb away at the rejection burning in her stomach. But his words ring through her head 'you aren't needed' and any expressions of comfort beginning to form die on her tongue.

She watches his face for a moment, waiting for him to turn. When he doesn't, she lets the sour words slip from her mouth. Simple but effective.

"I think you're just scared of yourself." She doesn't give him time to respond before shutting the door and walking towards the base, trying her best to ignore the burning behind her eyes.

_____

    Flash's next few moments are a whirlwind. Swapping her dress for the sweats and t-shirt flung on the floor that morning, jogging back to the kitchen to look at the grocery list style of numbers on the fridge, and calling Alejandro.

If he was with them at the bar she'd just have to stew in her room until Gaz came back. Although he'd probably be intoxicated and an easy target, she needs some way to dispel the hurt and anger pulsing through her veins.

Much to her surprise, he answers within the first few rings and twenty minutes later he arrives with a bottle of wine in hand and Valeria tow.

"Rude of them to leave you to celebrate your success sober." He had murmured while pulling a container of strawberries from their fridge. Gaz would kill her for eating them, but consequences seemed nonexistent at the moment.

She's leaning against the counter now, watching the way his forearms move while expertly slicing the strawberries. Valeria stands next to her speaking in a low tone.

"So," She starts, turning her chin resting in her hand to face Flash, "how did you end up here?"

Flash shifts to lean her hip into the counter, reluctantly peeling her eyes from Alejandro's smooth movements, and wonders what version of her story she wants to give.

"Same as everyone else. A fucked childhood that left me with no other option."

It was a half truth. Starting a conversation by telling someone she'd won scholarships to nearly every advanced military school in the country by climbing to the top of the performance ranks in less than a year isn't something that people could relate to. Childhood trauma on the other hand is a jackpot.

"Ah." Valeria's smile softens and she turns to look at Alejandro, who's now pouring the wine into three glasses that have seen better days. "We've heard that one plenty of times haven't we Ale."

When he nods his head, Valeria turns back to Flash with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now tell me the truth."

Flash accepts a glass from Alejandro and stares into the deep maroon of the wine before answering.

"I'm good."

"That's it?" Alejandro's laugh is loud and echoes through the empty room. "You've made it this far by being good?"

"I'm better than good." She offers, still not looking up from her glass.

Warm fingers slip under her chin and bring her gaze up to meet a pair of enveloping brown eyes.

"Don't be shy." Valeria's words are a quiet murmur. "You weren't so quiet earlier, what changed?"

Flash's jaw clenches, who was Ghost to make her feel small? Her gaze holds Valeria's when she speaks next and although her words are quiet, they're more confident than before.

"I'm the best you'll ever meet."

"There's my Pantera."

Valeria drops her chin, scoops up her glass and the bowl of cut strawberries, and slides so gracefully onto the couch that Flash wonders how she's not the one being named after a panther. "Come, sit."

Alejandro leads the way and claims the opposite side of the couch, leaving Flash to sit between them. It's a comfortable arrangement, there's enough room for them to sit and not be crammed together, but the weight of both their gazes makes the space seem impossibly smaller.

"What do you usually talk about while celebrating?" She asks, leaning over to grab a small handful of strawberries from the bowl Valeria left on the coffee table. It's a poor conversation starter, but the silence between them has Flash shifting on her cushion. And from the smile on Alejandro's face, they know.

"Do you really want to know?" He continues lowly when she nods her head. "We debate who we want to take home for the night."

Valeria tuts at him, "Don't be so brash Ale. We talk about other things too."

Flash brings her glass of wine up to her mouth in an attempt to cover her shocked expression but realizes that this means she actually has to drink it. Without giving her brain enough time to overreact, Flash tips a mouthful in and swallows. The taste is horrendous and she doesn't bother hiding it.

Alejandro laughs loudly at her expression and Valeria just shakes her head with a small smile, "It's meant to be sipped, darling. Not swallowed."

Not wanting to embarrass herself further, Flash just sets the glass down on the table and returns to the fruit in her hand.

"You could have said that." She mumbles against a strawberry pressed to her lips. The tart of the berry is a sweet reprieve from the rotten taste of the wine. The two sitting opposite of her seem to have no problem with the taste, leisurely sipping as though it's something to be savored.

"So Flash," Alejandro's eyes dance with dangerous excitement. " Are you a virgin? "

She chokes on a half-chewed berry, "Excuse me?"

"Just general questions. I ask everyone." He gestures behind her. "Right Valeria?"

"Right."

Flash remains silent, rubbing the cool of the strawberry against her lips and willing the blush away from her cheeks.

"Have you ever been kissed before?"

"Yes!" She blurts her answer out and all it does is set off a round of laughter between the two of them.

Her first kiss had been with a- for lack of a better term, boyfriend at the academy, Jake. A twenty three year old recruit who'd got a little too excited when she'd pinned him. He never did more than peck her on the lips though, arguing that anything else would distract him from his work. She broke things off three days later.

"Have you ever had someone's tongue in your mouth?" His blatant question catches her off guard. Although the pink hue of his cheeks show the effects of the wine kicking in. She's spent enough time with Alejandro to know that this is just the way he operates, on a 'better to ask for forgiveness than get permission' basis.

Flash shakes her head lamely, giving up on the stoic, unresponsive act. It clearly wasn't working.

He sets his glass on the coffee table and crooks a finger at her, smiling devilishly.

"Come here, let me show you something."

She sets her handful of strawberries back in the bowl and glances back at Valeria who gives her an encouraging nod. Flash uncrosses her legs and leans forward, expecting him to give her a quick peck.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

She's about to ask him what he means when he brings his hands down to her waist and pulls her up to straddle his lap.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is breathy and light and her stomach rolls with nerves. Although it's not what she expected, she's not one to complain.

"Relax Rubia." His face is just inches from hers, "Do you want me to show you what you're missing out on?"

Nerves race through her veins and the heat of Alejandro's hands on her waist burn straight through her skin and into the heat of her stomach. What's the worst that could happen? Gaz had talked about having sex with other team members, surely a kiss wouldn't hurt. All she can muster is a short nod of her head.

Alejandro is the light at the end of her tunnel of pent-up frustration and by god is he bright.

"Words." He chides.

"Yes."

Although she's given permission, his advance is painfully slow. The hands gripping her waist, guide her to sit back on his thighs, and brush her hair behind her ear in one smooth movement, before resting gently against her cheek.

Warm lips press softly against hers and she practically melts in his hands. He's surprisingly gentle, pressing two light kisses to her lips before nosing at her cheek and placing another over the burning skin.

"She's a Pantera Alejandro. I'm sure she can handle more."

Flash jumps at the sound of Valeria's voice. She's moved to sit next to them, lounging on the cushion and watching with a cocked head. She smirks at Flash's surprise. She didn't even see her move.

"Slow Valeria." He chides. His low voice is spoken into the soft spot below her ear, words caressing her skin and whispering down her spine. "We don't want to spook her."

Lips part against her neck and the hot press of his tongue is followed by a cool stream of air. Flash chokes on her next inhale and swallows down the ragged moan threatening her ego. Nothing Jake ever did felt this good.

"Did you like that Rubia?" Alejandro's voice is light and teasing.

"Yes I-." Before she even finishes her answer, he's doing it again, this time following the lick with a quick nip of teeth. Her response turns into an embarrassingly loud half-whimper.

"You're a tease." She bites out, pausing on the last word as he mouths his way back up to her ear.

"Ah, but you like it. No?"

Flash doesn't have to see his face to know he's smiling. It's taken him less than a minute to turn her into putty, and now he's happily kneading.

When he presses his lips to hers this time, the hot slide of his tongue at her lower lip parts her mouth in a gasp. He wastes no time. Weaving one hand into the hair at the back of her head and the other squeezing at her waist, Alejandro kisses her fervently and without abandon.

The room spins beneath her, weakening her knees. If she wasn't held fast to Alejandro's lap, she'd probably be on the floor. The taste of strawberries and wine fill her senses and twirl her into a daze.

The hands previously resting at her side slide up the muscular length of his arms and into his hair. It's not quite as long as Ghost's but her fingers still easily grip at the soft waves. Ghost. A pang of guilt threatens to pull her from her reverie, but Alejandro quickly snatches her attention back by taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down.

A defensive flare burns up her chest and she bites back harder. Alejandro groans into her mouth, the sound burns down her chest and settles low in her belly. The hand that was gripping at her waist slides up and to the small of her back, arching her into his chest. She presses close and can feel the hard muscle of his abdomen through the thin cotton of their shirts.

When he breaks the kiss, there's a strand of saliva connecting their mouths. He doesn't hesitate in pulling her back to drag a slow lick up her parted lips. Jesus fucking Christ. Dark eyes watch her closely when he pulls back and Flash is seconds away from begging him to do it again when a warm hand at her waist pulls her attention to an impatient looking Valeria.

"My turn." She murmurs, voice soft and low. "Can I kiss you?"

Flash, despite Alejandro's earlier insistence, can only nod in response.

She is identical to Alejandro in her slow start, dragging a soft hand over Flash's brow bone before swiping her thumb across slick lips. Fingers pinch Flash's chin and pull her forward. Valeria's lips are soft but her kiss is anything but. The hungry lick of her tongue gives Flash little time to adjust, but when she does, a delighted tremor wracks her body.

Warm hands slide beneath her shirt and then Valeria is pulling her down to grind against Alejandro's thigh. A moan is pressed into Valeria's mouth and electricity courses hot through her body.

Alejandro is quick to stop them. Large hands close over Valeria's on her hips and hold them still. She wants to pull them off, to give in to the warm sensation Valeria's hands are creating. He's persistent though.

"Valeria." Alejandro's words are a clear warning but his voice is thick and heady. If she didn't know better, she'd say Alejandro was enjoying this just as much as her.

Much to her disappointment, Valeria listens to his one-worded order. She rolls Flash's bottom lip between her teeth before placing one more kiss against her mouth and settling back.

Flash is left in a daze. Half-lidded eyes watch as Valeria straightens the hair that Flash had been pulling at just moments before.

"Just touching Mi Amor." Her words are breathy and the apples of her cheeks glow a soft pink.

"I was just showing our Rubia here what she's missing out on. I am not looking for a death threat."

Alejandro's words have her turning back to gaze at him in confusion. Although the lustful tint to his eyes is still present, he seems to have pulled himself together a lot quicker than Flash.

"Death threat?" Her voice is wrecked and Alejandro smirks at the sound. Whatever scrap of ego she had left lay tattered on the ground.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." He caresses the side of her face, proving to be an awfully good distraction from their conversation.

"Noticed what?" She breathes and turns to Valeria for an explanation. The woman just smiles and tilts her head to the side in an artful manner.

"You seem to be haunted by a certain ghost Flash." She tuts at her. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"You mean Ghost?" She rushes, still recuperating from the mind numbing kiss that she'd gotten from two different people.

"Yes, Flash." Alejandro laughs it away like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That man doesn't care about anyone other than himself." She says and swings her leg back to sit in her spot. Suddenly, sitting on Alejandro's lap isn't as exciting as before, and the once warm feeling in her stomach turns heavy.

"And that's where you're wrong." Valeria swirls a finger along the rim of her glass before gazing up at Flash through dark lashes. "We just had to dip our toes in before you're off the market. God help the bastards that try to trespass."

Flash flinches at her metaphor, "I'm not a piece of property." She glares at the two of them and their shockingly calm demeanor. Speaking as though they didn't just have their tongues in her mouth just minutes before. Her heart still beat wildly in her chest, and the cold taste of the strawberries did little to cool the heat of her cheeks.

"Honey," Valeria reaches out to stroke her calf, "the moment you signed that contract you became a piece of real estate."

She's saved from responding to another cryptic metaphor by the familiar sound of doors slamming shut. Not wanting to be barraged by questions from the rest of the team, Flash grabs the bowl of fruit, mutters a small goodnight to the pair staring at her from the couch, and rushes off to her room.

So much for blowing off some steam.

_____

    Flash is sitting cross-legged on her bed cleaning the blood flecked knife with a polishing cloth when a knock sounds through the room.

"Come in!"

She doesn't have to ask who it is. The stumbling and laughing are telling enough.

"Stop." Gaz's giggle sounds easily through the thin wood of the door. "I got it!"

The door swings open to reveal a relatively drunk Gaz and Soap. Hair mussed and cheeks pinkened, both look like they've had an eventful night.

"Hello gorgeous." Gaz drawls. "Wiping away the evidence of your most recent murderous rampage?"

Flash can't say she's not impressed at his coherency. She almost lets him off the hook. Almost.

"Don't make me have to start over." She points the knife at him and then gestures at the door. "Out."

A half hour ago, she would have welcomed the playful banter and taken it as an opportunity to wrestle him to the ground. But the weight of the day has her pinned to her bed.

"Aw, she's so mean." Gaz's head drops to Soap's shoulder and he doesn't shove him off.

Flash thinks back to Gaz's earlier confession and eyes the point of contact before glancing down at the relatively small space between them. Interesting. When she looks at Soap though, his eyes are trained on the knife balanced in her hand.

"Ghost let you borrow one of his knives?" His voice is incredulous and he takes a hesitant step forward.

"What?" She looks down at the silver case in front of her. She hadn't even noticed. The case was nearly identical to the one that was always neatly polished and tucked carefully into his breast pocket. "No, he bought these for me at the market."

"Oh." His mouth tips down and she recognizes the familiar expression of rejection. He's usually pretty good at keeping his emotions in check, she has no doubt it's the alcohol coursing through his blood that's giving them front row seats to his inner turmoil

Gas buts in oblivious to Soap's pouting, "So he's buying you two matching knives? Seems like it's getting pretty serious. Are you sure you're not fucking?"

Flash chokes on her next inhale. She'd have to get better at locking her door if this was going to become a regular occurrence.

"You know." Gaz looks at her with a devilish smile. "Just because Price went dark during your guy's little dance doesn't mean we did."

Oh fuck.

A/N: I’m currently dying (maybe that’s a tad dramatic) in bed with the flu and am in desperate need of entertainment. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them in my ama! <3