#glock 28 holster

[craftholsters]

Best Glock 28 holsters

Finding the Perfect Holster for Your Glock 28

When selecting a holster for your Glock 28, there are several important factors to consider. Glock 28 holsters come in various styles, such as IWB (Inside-the-Waistband) and OWB (Outside-the-Waistband), each designed for different carry preferences. IWB holsters offer better concealment, making them ideal for discreet carry, while OWB holsters provide easier access and comfort, suitable for open carry. The material of the holster, whether leather or nylon, also plays a crucial role in its durability and comfort. Leather holsters tend to be more durable and provide a classic look, whereas nylon holsters are lightweight and more affordable.

Benefits of Choosing the Right Glock 28 Holster

Selecting the right holster ensures that your Glock 28 is securely held and easily accessible. Key features to look for include retention capabilities, fit, and the holster's overall design. A well-fitted holster molded specifically for the Glock 28 offers a glove-like fit, enhancing both safety and quick draw times. Retention features, like thumb breaks or tension screws, can further secure your firearm. Understanding these factors can help you find a holster that meets your needs, ensuring comfort and security whether you're carrying concealed or openly. To learn more about Best Glock 28 holsters and to discover the best options available in the market, visit Craft Holsters' Best Glock 28 holsters section.

[red-riding-wood]

Verum Vindictae - II

Chpt. I, Masterlist, Chpt. III

Pairing: Marcus x OC (Josephine "Jo" Carlisle)

Fandom: John Wick (2014)

Summary: Bound by a blood oath she made fourteen years ago, Jo is desperately trying to escape a world she used to dream of when she is tasked with killing the infamous "Baba Yaga" and must face the truth of her past as everything she has ever known unravels around her.

WARNINGS: violence, language, eventual explicit sexual content

This story is part of my Willem Dafoe Challenge.

Taglist: @glitter-and-gasoline, @giona45-5, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @emilynightshade89, @wretched-mischief

13:28, October 19th

I’d been getting sloppier, careless.

I wanted out. It was all I’d wanted for the past fourteen years.

I was doing another man’s work, and I wasn’t even the one to claim the reward – not the money, not the fame. I didn’t get so much as a dime or a mention while my blood stained that marker that sealed my fate.

My finger tensed over the trigger of my Glock, the black barrel staring down the man who was blubbering like a child on the floor of the manor. He looked so pathetic, tears streaming down his wrinkled face and his wig set ajar, revealing a sheen of sweat across a bald scalp. In this moment, he didn’t look like a crime boss, didn’t look like the target I’d been sent to kill. In this moment, he was just a man – a man who was about to die by my bound hand.

I readied myself for the twist of my stomach when I pulled the trigger, by the nagging at the back of my conscience as I watched his blood stain the expensive floorboards.

“Please,” he begged me, spittle landing across his jaw. “Please, I’ll do anything. Pay you anything. What are they paying you?”

My lip twitched over my teeth, and I scowled. “Not a damn thing,” I said.

Confusion danced across his shiny, bright irises, and he nearly stilled for a moment.

I snorted, and the puff of air blew a dusky lock from my eyes. I was a fucking joke. A tool, a puppet. I delivered souls to the gates of the underworld and I was the one who had to pay the ferryman.

“Then… why?” the man sputtered in disbelief. “Why are you doing this?”

Fear was still laced so venomously into his teary gaze, and it softened my grip on the trigger.

I swallowed, and fitted the Glock back into my holster.

“Run,” I told him.

He was frozen for only a moment, and then he was scrambling up from the floor, shoes screeching against the floorboards for purchase. I watched as he fled, practically tripped over the bodies that lay haphazard against the spiral staircase, and I wondered if I’d made an awful mistake.

“There is no place in this business for mercy,” Cain had once told me.

Fuck Cain, I thought.

---

17:32, October 21st

The entire room shuddered as the door slammed shut behind him, and I swung my head to catch the fiery streak of his amber eye as he stalked towards me. I had my feet up on the ottoman, a book in my hands that I slowly slid a bookmark through.

Cain stood before me, eye darting to my dirtied boots, and I could tell he was seething, his shoulders hunched forward and his nose twitching with fury. His eye met mine, and he growled,

“You didn’t fulfill the contract.”

I turned my gaze to the wall, my lip curling. “Figures,” I muttered to myself. “Should’ve known the old codger couldn’t’ve run far.”

But a part of me was relieved. I hadn’t let the old man go entirely out of mercy. A part of me had wanted my boss to find out, had wanted him notice that I was no longer doing as clean-cut a job as I used to. He hadn’t noticed the past five or six contracts that I’d half-assed. At least, finally, this had gotten his attention. At least, finally, he would listen to me.

I shut my book and tossed it aside on the couch, my boots landing with two thuds against the floor as I stood to meet his gaze. Even with his shoulders slightly hunched, he towered over me, and I nearly quailed under the raging fire of the sole lamplight that stared back at me.

“It’s been fourteen years, Cain,” I said, struggling to keep my tone even. “I’m thirty-two, and I’m still doing your dirty work. When will you fulfill my marker? When will I be free?” I was failing; my tone was shaking and its volume was beginning to spiral out of control.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he exploded; his eye flashed in a streak of brilliant flame, and his breath raked across my cheeks. “Do you have any idea what this has done to my reputation?”

“Your reputation?” I scoffed. “You would be nothing without me, Cain. Which is why you need to listen to me!”

“You’re just as irresponsible as you were fourteen years ago! Grow up. You have a job to do – one that you signed on for, with your own blood, and you’re throwing it in my face.”

“I didn’t know I’d signed over my life!” I exclaimed, fury twisting its way malignantly into my gut. “When, Cain, when will I finally to get to live my life?”

John had managed to leave this life behind, had been happy, with a sweet wife and a house out of town, with an SUV and a lawn kept freshly mowed by a jolly gardener. For five years. Five whole years, before I attended her funeral; the poor woman had been claimed by cancer, not by a bullet or a stab wound or a bashed-in skull.

I wanted what he had. I’d always wanted what he had; when I was younger, and he was in the business, I’d wanted in. And now, now I knew why he always tried to keep me out of it, because now I was trapped, and he was out, and I craved that domestic life that he had found.

Cain shook his head, the masked half of his face turning to me, and he began muttering to himself, “Ungrateful, entitled.” The words only scored deeper into my gut, weaving bitter tendrils of wrath.

But before I could say anything, he whirled on me, and blazing amber threatened to combust. “Are you forgetting that you begged me for this life?” he snapped. “Are you forgetting who made you what you are? Without me, you would be nothing!”

From the billowing pockets of his coat, he pulled a carefully-engraved disc of silver; to anyone else, it may have appeared to be a large, unusual coin, or perhaps even a pocket-watch; but to anyone in this business, we knew it to be a sentence.

“I’ll help you,” the man said decidedly, and reached a hand into the pocket of his coat. I stiffened; I knew little of these people, knew little of how they operated. For all I knew, he was about to pull a gun on me.

Silver glinted in the gentle light of the chandelier, and I flinched, imagining it to be a blade. But with a clink, he set it down. A rounded piece of metal, the image of a skull etched into the center of a labyrinth of vines, an array of stars, and three words that appeared to be some sort of Latin.

His finger pressed a button on the side, popping open the center piece that was framed by the lettering and stars, and from its crest a tiny, sharp blade emerged. My heart seized.

But all he did was push it across the table to me, slowly, gently, and an amber optic swept up to meet mine.

“In this world, we operate on blood oaths. I do you a favour, you do me a favour, and your marker is complete,” he explained, thumb idly tracing the edges of the tiny blade that protruded from the silver object. “Just prick your finger here, and press the print here…” he demonstrated by placing his thumb on one side of the line that split the parchment. “And I will change your life forever.”

At his words, my heart leapt with excitement. To be an assassin, to be revered like John, to kill the person who had stolen my life… it was like a dream come true. But I hesitated, as I reached my hand across the table, and asked, “What sort of favour?”

He smiled. “One never knows when they will find themselves in need. I cannot predict the future, dear.”

My hand retracted warily, and I bit the edge of my lip. What was I getting myself into?

“I don’t know…” I said, and stood from my chair. “Thank you, sir, but I think I’m in over my head here…”

“Where are you going?” he asked as I began to take my leave, and my heart fluttered in my chest. I stilled, fingers still resting over the back of the dining chair.

“Are you going back to John?” he urged, when silence hung thick in the air. “Are you really going to spend the rest of your life in his shadow? Are you going to get him to do your work for you?”

I swallowed. He was right. If I went back to John, he wouldn’t let me near my target. They’d be dead before the clock struck midnight. And I may never find a deal like this again, the chance to become something more, something deadly. To become one of the weapons that had fought so vicious yet free back in the Ruska Room.

And what was it, really? Some of my blood on a silver coin?

I turned back around, and took my seat.  

The rings of my bloody thumbprint now stared up at me, and I cursed myself for not walking out that day, for being such a foolish girl.

Cain’s fingers trembled around the marker, and he snapped it shut, a grated cough springing from his lungs. It emerged whenever the weather was cold, or he strained his voice. It made him almost human.

He raised a hand to his mouth, and his fingers still trembled, as they brushed the leather of his mask, tracing the indents of the decorative cogs, as if remembering it were there. That mask… I had never seen what was beneath it. He’d never let me, didn’t trust me enough to. He preached about being the only one there for me, yet he kept secrets from me. For fourteen years.

And then that amber orb flashed, and caught my gaze as he snarled hoarsely, “And this is how you repay me. By fucking me over. By fucking the both of us over.”

The knot of wrath fastened in my gut, and I shot back with a vitriolic tinge to my tone, “I’ve long fulfilled that marker, and you know it. I’ve served you long enough, now let me go.”

Cain’s hand slowly fell from the edge of his mask, and something about him weakened; his countenance softened around sharp features, and an eye once alight with the flame of ire now became almost somber, the hue more akin to a dying leaf in Autumn.

“Served?” he breathed, his voice a ghost of what it had been moments prior.

“You think I stay for the tea parties?” I hissed, taken-aback. Why was he so hurt, so shocked by this? “I’m a prisoner here, always have been.”

“So that’s all I am,” he coughed, his chest wracking weakly. “Your jailer.” His lip curled, nose twitched, and he scoffed. “Fine. You want out that bad, Jo? I’ll set you free. I’ll complete the marker. If you do one thing for me.”

Past the rage brewing in my chest sprung a semblance of hope, and I was sure that my own expression softened. I stepped forward.

“What do you need?” I asked, trying to keep the desperation from my tone.

His countenance hardened once more, and we stood in silence for what must have been an eternity.

“I need you to kill John Wick.”

The room depressurized. My hope plummeted deep into my gut, tangling in the threads of bitter rage and making me sick. Betrayal, that was what I was feeling. Betrayal so intense that my head felt almost light and I could almost feel the fight leave me, feel myself wanting to sink back into the leather of that couch.

“This is some sick joke,” I breathed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he snapped.

I took a step back. “Why?” My own voice was coming quieter now, weaker. It was breaking. I was breaking.

“You know I tangle with all sorts of folk, Jo,” he said, a sigh escaping his chest with the last of a feeble cough. “Hell, you’ve met half of them. They’re not saints, no more than you and me are. One of my friends broke into John’s house the other day. Killed his dog. Stole his car. Idiot didn’t realize what he’d gotten himself into.”

So this is why he was asking me to kill the man who’d been there for me in my darkest moments, who’d practically raised me until I was eighteen, who’d begged me to come with him when he left this life.

“I’m not killing John because your friend is a nutcase,” I told him, that virulence emerging in my tone again. “It’s not my problem, and it shouldn’t be yours, either.”

“You’re not the only one with a debt to pay, Josephine. This friend, he has my marker. We’re all pawns in this game. You’re only just realizing that?”

“You’re asking me to kill my brother.”

“I’m asking you to kill a cold-blooded killer, same as you, same as every goddamn one of us. You can’t grant mercy to that scheming Rhittler who had more blood on his hands than a butcher and tell me you won’t kill John Wick.”

“He’s my brother!” I screeched, the knot in my gut pulling taut.

“And you’re the only one who might be able to get close enough to kill him. Anyone else I send after him, they’re doomed to Hell. But you, you can catch him off-guard.” Another sigh, and he stepped forward, his hand reaching for my arm. I jutted it back, shrinking from his touch.

“Jo…” he said, his hand falling dejectedly at his side. “I’m sorry to be asking this of you – genuinely – but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t imperative.”

I glared at him from a stony gaze.

“We both know what happens when you refuse a marker,” he said, tone growing grave. “If John Wick lives, I die.”

A breath hissed from flared nostrils, and though a piece of my heart, for some unexplainable reason, fractured, I grabbed my coat from the arm of the couch and fitted it furiously around my shoulders.

“Then die,” I growled, tugging at the lapels. “And before you do it, repent, repent for all that you’ve done, so I don’t have to see you on the other side.”

That amber gaze trailed me as I left, and though he was wordless, his silence followed me out that door more vexingly than anything he could’ve said.

The cold buffeted me as I stepped onto the pavement, and as the door slammed shut behind me, I realized, that after all this time, when I’d finally claimed my freedom,

I was as good as dead.

[gripefroot]

Crazy

“And then she said to me, I think that cat is judging us for being stupid. Backed straight out of the alley then, and it hissed after us until we started running. Never did find out if the money was stored there. Guards cats are pretty effective, when it comes down to it.” 

The elevator dings. The joke between Bucky and Steve ends on twin chuckles, their attention shifted to the doors as they slide open. The elevator is not empty. Bucky is surprised. Steve, less so. 

“Morning, Nick,” Steve says easily, taking a step inside. Bucky follows behind, giving Nick Fury a nod and a once-over to the woman beside him. She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look his way.  

“Morning, boys. Nice to see you out early for recon prep.” 

“What recon?” Bucky makes the mistake of saying. He grunts as he feels Steve’s elbow in his side.  

“Where’s Romanoff?” Nick asks, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.  

“She’s already underground, sir,” the unknown woman answers.  

“Good.” 

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, and offers his hand to the woman. She takes it, a polite but distant smile flitting on her lips. 

“Agent 28.” Her eyes flicker to Bucky, but he says nothing. With a raised brow her hand drops to her side where a holster is strapped around her thigh. 

He doesn’t trust himself to introduce himself when he’s thinking about that thigh holster. The brand. If it’s too tight. If it could hold anything larger than the Glock 19 she’s carrying. How sexy it is. What her name actually is, because he’s pretty sure that modern parents don’t name their kids numbers. Not entirely sure, though. 

“She’s my best agent,” Nick is saying, and Bucky reverts his gaze to the closed elevator doors with burning ears.  

“Nonsense, sir,” she replies. “You told Natasha that just last week, and I know for a fact you told Barton he was your best agent at last year’s holiday party. He brings it up every other time I see him.” 

Steve snorts. Bucky finds himself clenching his fist in the pocket of his jeans. Fury is apparently unconcerned by getting called out, and shrugs.  

“Either way, she’s been on this case since we got it three months ago. She’ll be running the recon today.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Steve says. Bucky senses the shifting weight of the woman, and he hears the lightness in her voice.  

“You might be changing your mind about that.” 

An omen.  

The tac room is underground Avengers Tower. Once the doors ding open to reveal a long hallway, Fury says something about speaking to Stark and punches the buttons as the other three climb off. Bucky slows his pace to follow the woman, who strides ahead. At the end of the hallway, Natasha is leaning against the wall, but she perks up when their footsteps draw closer.  

“About time,” Natasha says. “Hey, 28. I got the stuff you asked for. Told the boys yet?” And she falls into step beside the woman. Clearly they’re acquainted. Bucky wonders why Tasha has never mentioned Agent 28 before.   

“Nope,” Agent 28 replies. “Figured the sooner I tell them, the more complaints I’ll hear.” 

“This doesn’t sound good,” Steve interrupts.  

“It’s not.” 

Compared to the hall, the gear room is bright. Rows of vests, coats, weapon holsters, and various items for disguises are neatly lined on the wall. A few outfits are laid out on a table, and Bucky glances in trepidation at the chairs sitting empty in front of a mirror. He’s been in here before - he remembers the day Clint Barton was sat in one of those chairs and his hair shaved off because some evil scientist goo had gotten in it. That had been a bad day for Clint. Great day for Bucky, though.  

“Sit,” the woman says. Steve is quick to obey, with a trepidated glance at Bucky. He knows what it means: If we’re going to get messed up, at least we’ll be messed up together, right? Bucky struggles to have the same confidence. He sits beside Steve, glancing back towards the open door in case he needs to make a hasty exit.  

“Did you read the briefing I sent over?” Agent 28 asks, rummaging through a tub of...barber supplies. Bucky stiffens.  

“Oh, yeah,” Steve assures her. “Recon at a coffee shop for a suspect dealing in chemical warfare for Libya. We just need to find out who he’s meeting, and potential locations for any deals, right?” 

“Right.”  

She pulls out a buzz cutter. Holding it in her hand like a weapon (which to Bucky, it looks very much like one at the moment), she turns to steady meet their eyes, the opposite hand on her hip.  

“Here’s the deal,” she says shortly. “I can tell you two are ready to bolt, so I'll speak plainly. If the Avengers show up to a coffee shop all sitting together, the suspect won’t show. If the Avengers all show up to a coffee shop and don’t sit together, the suspect won’t show. You get my meaning? Anyone with half a brain will know what you look like, and anyone guilty will bolt at the first sign of trouble.” 

“We’ve done recon before,” Steve says, unwisely. “We can - ” 

But Agent 28 interrupts him. “Believe it or not, a baseball cap and sunglasses are not the height of secrecy. I’m in charge of this mission, and I won’t let it go south because a coupla boys are afraid to cut their hair. Hair grows back. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Steve mumbles. Bucky is still staring at the woman. Trying not to look at her thigh holster.  

“Got it,” he says hoarsely after a moment.  

She starts on Steve. Clumps of golden hair fall to the ground, and Bucky swallows. Several minutes later, she turns off the buzz cutter, fluffing up the short ends of Steve’s hair as he stares in the mirror. 

“Not bad,” he admits. “You a hairdresser?” 

“Only by necessity.” A smile grows on her face, and Bucky blinks. It’s a very nice smile. Maybe a little wild, a little feral. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him more.  

Oh, no. She’s going to cut his hair.  

“Nat has some clothes for ya laid out,” Agent 28 tells Steve. “Go on over and get dressed.” 

“What about Nat? Is she cutting her hair too?” Bucky blurts, before he can stop himself. The woman steps over to his chair, buzzer still in hand. He gulps.  

“Natasha is going to wear a wig,” she informs him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“Well, why can’t I wear a wig?” Bucky sounds like a petulant child, and he knows it. 

“Because your hair is long already,” Agent 28 explains patiently. “If we put a bald cap on you and some shorter wig, it’s going to look goofy. Believe me.” 

“And what about you?” 

“I don’t need a disguise,” she says at once. “SHIELD has an algorithm to delete all footage of me from public and private security cams. No one knows what I look like.” 

“Really,” Bucky says, only half-believing.  

“Not all of us feel the need to take credit for our dirty work, Sergeant,” Agent 28 gives him a smirk in the mirror, and Bucky nearly falls out of his chair. What is it about her -  

She flips on the buzz cutter. Bucky flinches, and holds up his hand in desperation. “Wait! Wait. There’s got to be another way.” 

She turns it off. “Afraid of a haircut?” she teases. 

“Well - maybe.” 

“How old are you again?”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky says sarcastically, though he’s struggling not to grin. “Come on. You do this a lot. There has to be other options. Please don’t cut my hair. Anything else. Just don’t cut it.” 

Agent 28 bites her bottom lip. Bucky tries not to stare, and fails. She has very pretty lips. Then at last she sets down the buzz cutter on the counter, and reaches over for a comb instead.  

“Fine,” she says, and starts to drag it through his hair. Immediately goosebumps break out across his scalp, and Bucky forces back a moan of pleasure. He must be looking a little strained, because she lifts a brow at him in the mirror. “But this is your choice. You can’t complain about it.” 

“Okay,” Bucky mumbles. He won’t be complaining yet - it feels too good to have her fingers in his hair. Way too good. It’s like a massage, really. In fact, he’s so lulled that he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until he watches through a daze as she pulls a hair tie off of her own wrist to secure his hair...in French braids.  

“Er,” he says, jolting from his stupor.  

“All done. Your clothes are back there,” Agent 28 says, jerking her thumb backwards. She’s smiling way too broadly - she’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying the consternation Bucky must be exuding. With a narrowed glare her way, he slowly stands from the chair to wander over to Nat and Steve. Still she smiles.  

“What’s this look called again?” Steve asks Natasha, twisting slightly to look at himself.  

“Ah, ‘never grew out of punk rock phase to spite Mom’,” Nat replies. Bucky grimaces - it’s not a good look, whatever it is. Poor Steve. But then his amusement is cut short as he sees the pile of stuff for him.  

“The point is to blend in,” Agent 28 says, coming from behind. “This coffee shop is popular amongst the odder end of folks. Get dressed, Sergeant. Nat, can I help you put on your wig?”

“Bossy,” Bucky mutters to himself as the girls go off. Steve glances over, a grin growing on his face as Bucky rifles through the pile of black leather and chains. Luckily Steve doesn’t say anything, and Bucky tugs off his nice, soft t-shirt to don some scratchy black top. And studded belt. His black jeans and boots are good enough, he decides. And the leather jacket isn’t so bad. The necklaces are bad, though.  

“No guns!”  

Bucky jumps, and freezes, Glock halfway into his pants pocket. He can feel Agent 28’s glare on his back, and slowly, retreats and lets his gun clatter onto the table. Steve is struggling not to laugh. Bucky glares.  

Ten minutes later, they’re nearly ready to go. Natasha is dressed in a miniskirt and tall boots, with black hair that falls to her hips. Since Bucky knows her, he finds it a kind of scary look. Agent 28 is wearing a flowy skirt and top, with a bandana in her hair.  

“Starving artist,” she explains, then jerks her head toward Nat. “Daddy issues.”

“We look ridiculous,” Steve says.  

“No more ridiculous than anyone else there. We’ll blend in.” Agent 28 casts a look around the group; Bucky tries not to flinch under her gaze, but probably doesn’t manage. Then her brows crease. “I forgot about your hand,” she says irritably. Walking over to the buckets of accessories, she digs through as she speaks. “It’s a bit suspicious to wear gloves in the middle of summer, so...I know Stark has something in here somewhere…” 

And a minute later she pulls out a floppy, flesh-colored thing. “Lube, Nat,” she orders. Bucky’s eyes widen, but Agent 28 is nothing but smug smiles as she returns, spreading out the limb...thing. Oh. It’s a hand.  

“Steve and I will head out now,” Natasha says, plopping a bottle of lube on the table. “Space out our entrances.”

“Got the address?” 

“Yep.”

“See you there.” 

Talking in low voices, Nat and Steve leave the room in their ridiculous clothes. Bucky stares wistfully after them for a moment, and then turns back to the other woman. And jolts, and the cold lube hits his hand.  

“You wanna rub it in, or shall I?” she asks, eyes flickering with mischief. 

“Um - I will.” Bucky swallows and tries to be nonchalant about it. Not an easy thing which his stomach tightening. When his metal hand is appropriately...moistened...Agent 28 holds up the limb hand and he slides his fingers easily inside. It squelches in a very awkward way. He flexes his fingers, staring. They look pretty fake. But less fake than metal, probably.  

“It won’t short circuit, will it?” she asks. 

“No. I can get my arm wet, you know,” Bucky tells her dryly, glancing up with a smile he can’t resist. “Showers and everything.” 

“Is that so?” Agent 28 teases back. “I would’ve thought you’d wear a shower cap up to your shoulder.” 

“Haven’t done that yet.” 

“Too bad. Sounds fun.” 

“Fun? How old are you again?” 

She purses her lips together in a show of annoyance at his joke. But Bucky guesses that she doesn’t mind - her eyes are alight, and a little blazing. They leave the room in silence. 

Coffee shop frequented by hipsters. Well, she hadn’t been wrong. Bucky sips his coffee from a seat at the front bar, glancing around the crowd, strewn in morning sunlight and chattering way too loudly for a Thursday at 10 a.m. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha pretending to text by the bathroom doors, Steve at a window seat. Agent 28 is behind him somewhat, near the entrance.  

It’s been an hour. When is the guy supposed to show up again? Bucky very much wants to ask this agent, but they aren’t wearing coms. And he suspects that if he addresses her when they’re supposed to be reconning, she’d bite his head off.  

The thought is appealing, admittedly.  

Natasha’s eyes flick upwards. Steve quickly picks up his coffee for a drink. Agent 28 coughs slightly, and Bucky stiffens in his seat. 

Target in sight.  

The man heads to the front counter to order. Bucky’s closest now, and he listens as he orders coffee. Nothing suspicious so far. But the way-too-high-tech briefcase for the West Village is a bit of a giveaway.  

A scent of flowery warmth fills his nostrils, and he stiffens again. Agent 28 is sliding nonchalantly into the seat next to him, reaching over for a little packet of creamer.  

“He’s being followed,” she says, so quietly that anyone without super-hearing probably wouldn’t be able to hear. Bucky tilts his chin down to show that he understood. He clenches his empty cup in his hand, standing smoothly and striding towards the trash can near the door. Two bulky men are hovering, just inside as their eyes scan the crowd. The hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stands on end, and slowly he tosses his garbage away.  

He returns to his seat. Agent 28 has swiveled around, facing the crowd of the shop with a disinterested stare. But Bucky can see the pulse beating in her neck. She’s on edge. Which accounts for his surprise when she meets his eyes with an enormous smile, and a loud, “Darling.” 

So that’s what they must be doing now. Bucky smiles in return, a little stiffly, and obligingly takes her hand when she reaches for him. He senses Natasha near them, getting into line behind the target. And Agent 28 draws him near, so that he’s standing between her legs, towering over her in her seat.  

Bucky gulps. He’s not sure why his knees won’t stop shaking. Sternly he berates himself, You didn’t go through super-serum experimentation and decades of brainwashing to lose control of yourself over a woman. Pull yourself together, Barnes! 

It doesn’t help. 

She smiles, as if aware of his inner turmoil, and that she’s the cause of it. “We need to extract the target,” she says softly. And then louder, “Whaddya say to heading back home?” 

“Anything you say, love.” Bucky tangles his fingers with hers, keeping them steady. Her gaze is very hard on his face, and then her eyes flicker behind him. The shout from Steve and the icy determination filling Agent 28’s face come at the same time. Bucky tenses - there’s a gunshot, he hears Natasha grunt and a crash, and suddenly Agent 28 is hiking up her skirt, drawing her Glock (from that really commendable thigh holster around her now-bare leg), as she aims around Bucky and fires. The recoil shakes him a little, since she braced herself against his bicep.

There’s a sudden tent in his pants.  

Screams. Glass crashing. A ping of a bullet on his metal arm. He can feel the heat of it, and winces. Then, as suddenly as the chaos started, the shop is quiet.  

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts (no more than 6 or 7 seconds could have passed) Bucky swivels to see...Natasha, lying on the target on the ground. Both unharmed, and a little shaky. Steve, clutching his arm as blood seeps between his fingers, and the two bulky men lying still on the ground. One shot. One taken care of...Steve Rogers-style. Bucky grins to himself.  

“I thought you said no guns,” he says as an aside, as Agent 28 flicks the safety back on, and puts the gun back in its holster.  

“I said no guns for you,” she clarifies, with a little dimple forming around her smirk as she smooths down her skirt to cover herself more modestly.  

“But you can have one?” he asks. 

“I always have one.” 

“I like preparedness in a woman.”

She merely lifts a brow in return, but Bucky sees interest in her eyes as she slides off the stool. Heads are beginning to poke back up from beneath tables, and Steve offers a hand to Nat to help her stand. The target scrambles to his feet.  

“I’ll take him back to SHIELD,” Agent 28 says, picking up the man’s briefcase in one hand and grasping his arm in the other. “When we have the intel, I’ll contact you for the follow-up.” 

Stepping on broken glass, she begins to wind towards the door. But as Bucky stares after her, she glances back over her shoulder with a smile. Just for him. 

“Make sure things get cleaned up. And take off your disguises before you address any press.” And she’s gone out the door. Bucky is speechless, but only for a moment. Sighing, he turns to Steve beside him. 

“I don’t think she likes me much. Always telling me what to do,” he says regretfully. But it’s Natasha that answers. 

“Nonsense; that’s just how she shows that she cares. Steve, go get your arm looked at. You’re bleeding out.”

~

It’s impossible to ever stop being an agent. Even tucked up in bed that night, trying to read a fantasy novel, your ears attune themselves to the sound of New York City traffic outside your window. The honks. The screeches. People calling out to each other.  

You can almost pretend the noise is dragons fighting goblins. 

There’s a soft swoosh, right outside your window. A thud on the balcony. Unmoving - you don’t want to give yourself away - you feel your heart begin to race as your hand slides under your pillow for a gun. The window is slid open, slowly. 

And you’d thought that living on the second story was high enough that you didn’t have to lock your windows. You deserve a burglar or two for that idiocy. Grasping the handle of your gun, you jerk around and hoist yourself to your knees, keeping the gun steady in your hands as you aim it at -  

Bucky. Bucky Barnes, one leg inside your bedroom while the rest of him tries to squeeze through. Bucky Barnes, sheepish and a little confused, and more than a little irritated.  

“There’s something keeping the window from opening all the way,” he says. “Could you jiggle it a little?” 

“Not even a hello?” you ask, pulling your gun back. He’s safe. You think.  

“Hello. Please open your window.” 

Biting back a laugh, you jump off the bed to oblige. “I suppose if I don’t, you’ll be stuck there forever,” you tease him. With a grunt and a pull, the window slides open the rest of the way, and Bucky lets out a long breath of relief as he pushes himself through.  

“That would be a problem,” he says dryly, staring down at you as he straightens his jacket.  

“Would it really? I think it would be fun.” With a smirk you close the window again, and the traffic is muted. And suddenly your bedroom seems very, very quiet. “Why are you here, Sergeant?” you ask him, hands on hips. “And why no warning? I could’ve dressed up for ya.” 

Immediately his face flames red. “You - your pajamas are very nice,” he stutters out, and you laugh. 

“Why are you really here?”

“I just - I…” Bucky bites his bottom lip, as his color slowly returns to normal.  

“Missed me already?” you ask lightly. 

“I - I guess.” 

Now that is not the answer you’d expected. During the recon he’d been a little tense around you; you’d assumed he was still sore that you’d threatened to cut your hair. Barnes isn’t known to be particularly friendly to strangers. But now he’s at your apartment, having climbed through the window at night, just because he ‘missed you.’ 

How very interesting.  

“What’s your name?” he blurts. “I mean, your real name.” 

How very interesting. 

“Only Director Fury knows my name, hon,” you smile up at him with a shrug. “That’s something you’ve gotta earn...if you’re interested.” 

“I’m interested. I am interested.” Bucky’s not one to mince meanings. The light in his eyes has shifted; bright to dark, full of meaning. Insinuation.  

You take a step forward, tilting your chin upwards as he catches his breath. You place a hand on the front of his shirt - his heart is racing. You can see very well the stubble on his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin. The thick lashes which ring his eyes. “You wanna get to know me, Sergeant?” you ask softly.  

“Yeah,” he breathes out, low and slow. “Yeah, I do. You...you were so...amazing. Today. You were amazing. You are amazing. Cooler than Sam or Clint, for sure. Maybe even Tasha. Probably cooler than Steve.” 

He’s babbling. It’s adorable, but you interrupt with a laugh. “Well, maybe I wanna get to know you, too. If I’m being quite frank. Which isn’t my name, by the way.”  

Bucky laughs aloud - the sound fills your bedroom with warmth and liveliness. It makes your skin tingle from your scalp to your toes. “You look like a Frank,” he teases back, lifting a finger to tap the end of your nose.  

“How’d you find out where I live, anyway?” you ask. “It’s not public intel.” 

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” 

“Which are…?” 

He holds up his metal hand, gleaming in the light from your lamp. Holding your gaze, he flicks off the end of the pinky finger. “I can hack into any technology,” he says, and you give an involuntary “ooo!” at the fancy port.  

“I could use one of those in my finger,” you say fervently, remembering a handful of instances when you’ve fumbled precious flash drives and such. “What - do your other fingers have that, too?” 

Bucky is grinning now. He knows he got you. So he flips open the ring finger - a three-pronged port. The middle finger - a mini USB-drive. “Pretty much unlimited memory,” Bucky explains. “Stark has good tech like that. He put all the updates here, in fact. And this one - ” The index fingers just looks like a hole inside. You suspect it’s not. “Miniature stun gun,” he says proudly.  

“Very cool,” you say, impressed. “What about your thumb.” 

He chortles, and gives you a thumbs up. The tip opens, and a little flame peeks out, steady and orange. 

“Very handy, if you’re going to an Aerosmith concert thirty years ago,” you tease. 

“What’s an Aerosmith?” 

Your eyes widen. “You don’t - you don’t know?” 

“I don’t have a lot of memories from thirty years ago,” Bucky points out.  

“Then you gonna learn, pal. Come on.” Bravely you grasp his hand - disregarding that he might want to leave, that he’s not interested in music - it doesn’t matter. There’s a single lamp lighting your living room, and you turn on the stereo. Still holding his hand.  

The music starts. You turn to face him, pleased to see the interest in his expression as he nods his head. So you sing along, tossing your head back to mimic Steve Tyler’s voice.  

“Come here, baby You know you drive me up a wall the way you make good on all the nasty tricks you pull Seems like we're makin' up more than we're makin' love...” 

Without realizing it, you’ve pulled Bucky in to a dance. He doesn’t protest, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close, pajamas and all. He’s smiling down at you, with an expression you don’t fully understand. But it’s enticing enough to keep you interested. 

“I go crazy, crazy, baby, I go crazy You turn it on Then you're gone Yeah you drive me Crazy, crazy, crazy, for you baby What can I do, honey I feel like the color blue…”

“I like this song,” he says, during a guitar solo. He’s swaying just so, his flesh hand shifting to nudge your hips to the slow beat.  

“Do you?” you ask. “Or do you like me? Hmm?” 

Bucky smiles. “How about both?”

“Okay.” Your fingers inch over to his hair, where you stroke the end of his braid. He still has the braids in. And - “You still have my hair tie,” you tell him with a pretend scowl. “You little thief!” 

“And you’ve stolen my thoughts all day,” Bucky snarks back. “We’re even.”

That kind of lovin' Makes me wanna pull Down the shade, yeah That kind of lovin' Yeah now I'm never, never, never, never gonna be the same…

The steps have slowed. But Bucky’s hold on you tightens. His eyes - oh gosh, those eyes - riveted, you catch your breath as his face grows near. Tentatively his lips brush against yours, hot and promising. Your heart is threatening to leap from your chest, and you can’t help smiling as he pulls away with pink cheeks. 

”Wait until I tell my mom that a guy I learned about in high school history has the hots for me,” you tease. 

“Ha, ha.” But he rests his cheek against your hair, all the same. I'm losin' my mind, girl 'Cause I'm goin' crazy I need your love, honey I need your love…” 

The song ends. You don’t want to stop dancing.  

“So, what do you think?” Bucky asks quietly, to the silence. 

“About what?” you murmur back. His embrace is really too warm. 

“Me. Us. You know.” 

You lift your head, holding his gaze as his eyes glitter on your face. Drinking you in. Even if he’s not terribly eloquent, you understand him perfectly. He lowers his head to nudge his nose to yours. You scrunch your face - he’s so cute. How could you say no?  

“I could probably lose my job, if...if we were to start dating,” you confess. 

“Then wouldn’t I lose mine, too?” Bucky asks. 

“Nah. You’re too important.” 

“Not that important,” he mutters. “But maybe enough that I can make sure you don’t get fired.” 

So. Cute. “Maybe we don’t have to tell anyone, so no one gets fired,” you whisper back. His hand is trailing up on your back, and you nearly moan aloud. Bucky has very good hands. Just strong enough to entice, but not so much to hurt... 

“Okay.” It’s barely a breath, but it flares the embers in your belly to life as Bucky kisses you again, no longer gentle, but hungry and fierce. 

How long have you known him, now? Twelve hours? Thirteen? You are so lost.

Bucky is tugging you towards the couch, gasping for air between kisses as you tug at his shirt. But you push him down first, straddling his legs as he stares up at you. In wonder. Oh, you like this. You draw his shirt all the way over his head, and nearly salivate on him.  

Later. You can salivate later.  

Fervently you begin to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands as you squirm; he’s yanking at your shorts, at your top. With no luck, of course. You’re nearly about to get off so he can get them off, when a ripping sound pops your head back up.  

Bucky is smiling up at you. Sheepishly. Definitely ruefully. 

“Punk,” you mutter, feeling his cold metal fingertips on the bare flesh of your hips.  

“Next time, don’t bother with the underwear,” he retorts. You giggle, and kiss him again. Next time. Oh, good, a next time… 

You’re too impatient to bother pushing off his jeans the rest of the way, and clearly he is, too. Tossing his belt carelessly over your shoulder, you let his pants stay at his knees. The sensation of his hot flesh against the sensitive skin of your thighs makes you moan aloud, and Bucky wastes no time pulling your top off. His mouth finds your breasts, and you moan again, louder this time.  

“You’re killin’ me,” he rasps, between kisses. 

“Not if you kill me first.”  

“Is this a competition, now?” Bucky’s eyes are glittering.  

“Are you gonna make it one?” you tease back.  

Tangling your fingers into the braids in his hair, you pull his head back to kiss him again. But Bucky pulls away, his fingers ghosting along your jaw to tilt it upwards so he can taste your throat. His lips are hot. Oh...there will definitely be marks there. But right now, you don’t care. Especially when his flesh fingers travel between your legs. Your eyes flutter shut with a moan.  

“I’m ready,” you tell him breathlessly.

“I can tell.” There’s laughter in his voice, and you peek open an eye to see him gazing fondly up at you. That smile. It makes your heart stutter, and carefully he guides your hips to align with his… 

Oh, it’s so good. So, so good.  

You find his mouth again, kissing him for all you’re worth as you grind against him, drawing low groans from his throat. His hands are everywhere; guiding your hips, tracing your waist, stroking your breasts. It’s like he knows exactly how to bring your entire body to life...oh, he is good.  

With another groan, he leans his head on the back of the couch, bracing himself as he thrusts back. A whimper falls from your lips.  

“Baby…” he starts in a husky voice, his breathing short. “I - I can’t call you agent now - ” 

You’re laughing as the pleasure bursts through every nerve of your body. A slower pace and a moment later, Bucky tugs your face close to kiss you deeply as his hips stutter against yours, and stop.  

“That was good,” he says a moment later. His nose is buried in your hair as he breathes deeply. You keep your eyes closed, content just to smell his musky, masculine scent all around you. You pull away to gaze down at him; his eyes are shining warmth and affection, and the tips of his fingers start to trace circles down your bare arms. 

“Really good,” you agree. 

“We should do that again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”  

Bucky Barnes is a flirt. A conniving little flirt. You love it.  

“Well, I don’t have any plans tonight,” you tease.

“I do,” Bucky says fervently. “I’m intend to get to know you better than anyone. Even Fury, if you know what I mean.” You laugh - because you do know what he means, however perverted it sounds.  

In the cold grey of dawn, you whisper your name in his ear. 

~ 

“And last order of business…” Tony Stark trails off. The effect of building up to something exciting pays off - Clint jolts awake, and Sam quickly puts away his doodles of Iron Man crash landing into a trampoline. “We will be welcoming Agent 28 as a contractual member of our team. She’s worked well with us, and proven her worth. Fury agreed that we can have her part time.” 

“But can she endure Clint walking around without his socks on?” Sam asks.  

“I once sat in a dumpster for two days just to catch a gangster,” you tell him, before anyone else can speak on your behalf. “I’ve smelled things nearly as bad. I have a strong stomach.” 

“Ha, ha,” says Clint, without humor.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky studying your face intently from across the table. He’s not subtle - someone’s going to pick up on him. You straighten your shoulders, and meet his gaze in challenge. His lips twitch upwards. 

“Then that’s all for today. Class dismissed.” 

It had been a long briefing; a summary of the mission you’d completed, upcoming events (mostly galas and charity gigs), and a reminder that as there are no housekeeping services, everyone needs to wash their dishes before any science experiments begin to grow.  

The team begins to file out. Steve congratulates you as he passes you; you thank him with a smile, not blind to the way Bucky is bristling with jealousy. Because Steve spoke to you? Bucky’s going to have it rough, with you. 

You linger all the same, standing slowly until you’re the last one in the conference room. Well, one of the last.  

“Agent,” Bucky says in a clipped voice, standing with his arms crossed.  

“Sergeant,” you reply, with a toss of your hair as you mosey for the door. Natasha is still within earshot down the hall, but you can walk a little slower.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls. “We need to talk about…”

You glance back, lifting a brow. 

“...the way you clean your handguns. It’s not safe.” 

Laughter threatens. “Oh, please. I’ve been cleaning my own guns for years. And no one else has put up a stink about it.” 

Bucky is strolling around the table, his eyes glittering dangerously on yours. You stand tall, unwilling to back down. 

“Why the criticism, Sergeant?” you say in a much quieter voice, as he pauses at the door. Only two steps away. You smirk. “Want me to clean yours for you?” 

He blinks, momentarily distracted. Then a creeping grin grows on his face. “Yes,” Bucky says, and his voice breaks on the word.  

“Come on, then. We’d better find someplace more...private.” You crook a finger in his direction. He obviously nearly melts at this - a shudder goes through his shoulders, and his eyes darken as he stifles a groan. With your head high, you stroll into the hall. 

There’s a janitorial closet two doors down. Perfect. Without even a glance at any security cams (you or Bucky can erase the footage later), you walk straight in, closing the door after he enters behind you. In the dark, his ragged breathing is very audible.  

“Well now, Sergeant,” you say softly, tugging at the front of his jacket. “Let me show you how I do it.”

[flsecuritylicense]

PEACEKEEPER SECURITY GROUP Tampa Bay’s Newest Security and Firearms Training School

      Hey Folks, Welcome to our new page on Tumblr.  We are just learning about this site and don’t know much about it yet but we’re trying to up our social media game and hope you’ll follow us and share us with your friends.  Peacekeeper Security Group is Tampa Bay’s newest Security Training School for the Florida Armed Security Officer License also known as the ‘G’ Security License.  To become an Armed Security Officer in the State of Florida, you must first attain either your ‘D’ Unarmed Security License, your ‘C’ Private Investigators License or your ‘CC’ Private Investigators Apprentice License.  Once you complete those certifications, you can attend the 28 hour ‘G’ Certification Course we offer.  You will spend two days in class for 10hrs each day with a 50 question test at the end of Day 2.�� If (and when) you pass the written test, you will be able to attend Day 3 for the state mandated Firearms Qualification course.  Due to current ammunition shortages, we are no longer providing qualification ammunition for sale to students. You will save yourself more money if you purchase your own ammo or bring it from your Zombie Apocalypse stockpile. If you want to use your own firearm and ammo, you must have a duty quality firearms in one of the following calibers: 9mm Luger, .40 S&W, .45ACP or .38SPC.  You must have 3 but preferably 4 high-capacity magazines of twelve (12) or more rounds.  If you’re one of those old timers who prefer a wheel gun and you’re bringing a .38 or .357 revolver, you should preferably have four (4) Speedy Loaders.  To attend this training, you must bring with you 150 rounds of ammunition.  If you don’t have your own firearm, we do have Glock 9mm handguns to rent.  There is a $20 rental/cleaning fee for our Glocks.  If you rent our firearms, you must bring 150 rounds of factory ammo and you will be provided all required equipment to include holster and magazines.  We suggest all students bring their own eye and ear protection but those can be provided for a small fee.  Those who wear prescription glasses may wear those instead of safety glasses.  The price of our course is the same or less than other Security Schools in the Tampa Bay area but our school is the only one that gives Veterans and First Responders a $25 discount on the price of our course.  We do that because we are Veterans and Former First Responders and we look out for our own.  When you’re looking for the best Security Training in Tampa, look to Peacekeeper.

    We also offer Firearms Training Classes from our Beginner 101 Classes to Concealed Weapons Classes which will certify you for your Concealed Weapons License.  Did you just buy a handgun, shotgun or an AR-15 and you just don’t know how to operate, clean or fire it?  We’ll teach you all you need to know about your new gun and teach you how to fire it proficiently.  At Peacekeeper, we will get you prepared to protect your home and your family.  Our owner and Lead instructor is a Veteran, retired Law Enforcement officer and has been a firearms instructor for 25 years.  An amateur trains until they gets it right; a professional trains until they can’t get it wrong” .  When you train with Peacekeeper, you train with the best.  Come visit our website at flsecuritylicense.com or call us Toll Free at (888)822-2948.   

[islamfakrul]

Top 10 Best gun holster for jogging [2022]

Top 10 Best gun holster for jogging [2022]

1. Acelane Belly Band Holster for Concealed Carry Abdominal Band Gun Holster Tactical Elastic Waist Pistols Adjustable Belly Wrap IWB OWB Mag Pouch Fits Firearm Handgun Revolvers for Men & Women Buy On Amazon ➤ One Holster Fits All Hand Gun – The holster fits small subcompact, compact, and even full size pistols and revolvers, Glock 19, 23, 38, 25, 32, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39, 28, 33, 42, 43, 36,…

[simcatcher]

Tagged by dearest @lifeasasim ♥

Tagging: @declarations-of-drama @nocturnalazure​ @tyrellsimsoficeandfire​ @danjaley​ @samssims​ @princessdejamars​ ans @mada-didi

RULES :

1.Pick a character you’ve created. (I pick Woodie ihihihih)

2.Fill in the questions/statements as if you were that character.

3.Tag at least four people to do this meme

QUESTIONS:

1. What is your name?

Woodie. What you mean, all of ‘em ? Is it- alright. Woodrow Aloysius Belcher.

2. Do you know why you were named that?

I was named after my old man, too bad I didn’t get to know him. I owe the 2nd one to my grand’pa. Thanks mom, I guess.

3. Single or taken?

Married to Evie. I mean, single.

4. Stop being a Mary Sue!

For you it’d be Marty Stu.

5. What’s your eye color?

Dark and greyish, wha-

6. How about hair color?

Oh, alright. Heh, bright blue. We done ?

7. Have you any family members?

Nop.

8. Oh, how about pets?

A ladycat, D. She’s a real duchess. Y’should see her, minding her own business, giving you the look. Trust me, you’ll feel small.

9. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Any kind of small eight-legged thing. Not too fond of these folks.

10. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Wouldn’t wanna make you blush.

12. Ever… killed anyone before?

Move on.

13. What kind of animal are you?

Human being. The worst kind.

14. Name your worst weaknesses.

Of course. Let’s do that.

15. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Let’s say no.

16. Are you straight, gay or bisexual?

I like boobs.

17. Do you go to school?

Yeah well.... look at me.

18. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Not really.

20. What are you most afraid of?

Didn’t get the hint ? No.

21. What do you usually wear?

A holster. I feel naked without my Glock. It’s a rare collector’s piece, not to mention how hella efficient this little wonder is.

22. What’s one food that tempts you?

I can’t get enough of Chinese.

23. Am I annoying you?

Well-

24. Well, it’s not over!

Sure.

25. What class are you (low class, middle class, high class)?

I’ll go for middle class, I guess. Y’know, I do my thing.

26. How many friends do you have?

I’ll pass.

27. What are your thoughts on pie?

What’s the point ?

28. Favorite drink?

I had a sip at a 107yo whiskey from Earth, once in my life. Will not get into details, but it was pretty awesome. All kind of liquor do the job though.

29. What’s your favorite place?

I can’t really remember what Earth felt like, it’s a happy memory though. The sun, the sea. I fantazise about it more often than not. Strangely enough, I miss this place.

30. Are you interested in anyone?

Elijah’d be my dope. She’s damn good looking, smart and all.

31. That was a stupid question.

Pretty much.

32. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

I’d like to see the ocean one day. That’s about the thing on Earth you wouldn’t miss, right ?

33. What’s your type?

Already answered that. bonus for curvy bodies and luscious lips. I have a thing for luscious lips.

34. Any fetishes?

Let’s not.

35. Camping or indoors?

Any, darling.

[multipleservicelisting]

Police Arrested a Woman Who They Said Impersonated an Officer at Inauguration Checkpoint

U.S. Capitol Police have arrested a woman they said drove up to an inauguration checkpoint and falsely claimed she was a police officer and a member of the president’s cabinet, the authorities said.

The arrest on Saturday was the latest to raise alarms as the city braced for protests leading up to Inauguration Day on Wednesday.

As many as 25,000 National Guard troops are expected to flood the city this week, and officials have tried to keep some people who participated in the Capitol riots on Jan. 6 from returning to the city.

The arrest on Friday of a Virginia man who had a gun in his truck raised residents’ fears until it was determined that the man appeared to be a security contractor who had illegally brought his personal gun into the District, where it was not registered.

Early on Sunday morning, city police officers also arrested a 22-year-old man from Virginia who they said had a handgun that he was not allowed to carry in the District. The man, identified as Guy Berry, 22, of Gordonsville, Va., was walking about a block away from Columbus Circle and had a Glock that was visible in a holster, three high-capacity magazines and 37 rounds of ammunition, the police said.

The woman arrested on Saturday, who the police identified as Linda MaGovern, 63, of Stratford, Conn., pulled up to a checkpoint near Columbus Circle, about half a mile from the U.S. Capitol, around 8:45 a.m. and showed officers a “military police challenge coin,” an unofficial keepsake widely distributed in military and police communities, according to a report from the city’s Metropolitan Police Department. The woman initially parked her car at the request of officers, but when they asked for her driver’s license, she began to drive away, the police said.

The police were able to stop her a few hundred feet away, in front of Union Station, and she was accused of three crimes: impersonating a police officer, failing to obey a police officer and trying to flee a police officer. The report said she was taken to a hospital for evaluation at a psychiatric unit. Ms. MaGovern could not immediately be reached.

The Metropolitan Police Department frequently makes gun arrests, although they rarely receive so much attention. In the week between Dec. 28 and Jan. 4, for example, the department reported that it had recovered 59 guns and arrested dozens of people on related gun charges.

    Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com 

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[webinfobd]

ComfortTac Ultimate Belly Band Gun Holster for Concealed Carry | Compatible with Smith and Wesson, Shield, Glock 19, 17, 42, 43, P238, Ruger LCP, and Similar Guns, for Men and Women

New Post has been published on http://www.techinfo24.co/holiday-tech-gifts/comforttac-ultimate-belly-band-gun-holster-for-concealed-carry-compatible-with-smith-and-wesson-shield-glock-19-17-42-43-p238-ruger-lcp-and-similar-guns-for-men-and-women/

ComfortTac Ultimate Belly Band Gun Holster for Concealed Carry | Compatible with Smith and Wesson, Shield, Glock 19, 17, 42, 43, P238, Ruger LCP, and Similar Guns, for Men and Women

Price: (as of – Details)

ONE SIZE HOLSTER IS COMPATIBLE WITH MOST FIREARMS – Surgical grade elastic holster is compatible with small subcompact, compact, and even full size pistols and revolvers. 380, 9mm, 40 auto, 45 ACP, 38 special, 357, and 10mm etc. CARRY IN ANY POSITION – Can be worn inside the waistband IWB, outside the pants OWB, cross draw, appendix, 5 O’clock (behind hip), twelve oclock, small of back, and even high up like a shoulder holster or concealed carry shirt. RIGHT OR LEFT HAND DRAW – Bellyband Holster is available in right and left hand draw. Compatible with Glock 19, 23, 38, 25, 32, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39, 28, 33, 42, 43, 36, M&P Shield, Sig Sauer, Kahr, Beretta, Springfield, Taurus, Bersa, Kel Tec, Walther, and more. HARD PLASTIC TRIGGER GUARD for extra safety while carrying. Accessory pocket and Movable Spare Magazine Pouch included. Metal snap retention strap provided keeps your gun secure. (you can cut off the retention strap if you prefer best speed over extra retention support) Also great for AirSoft.

[donnythewriter]

The Things We Protect - Issue #1

    INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

    A flashlight shines across shipping containers. The light     illuminates reflects off each one.

    DONOVAN "MIKE/MIKEE" PAULSEN, (30) walks forward.

    He's Caucasian, 6"1, black hair, brown eyes, skinny  build.     His medium, styled hair carries a gentlemen's cut, and his     face carries a five o'clock shadow. A visible scar sits below     his left eye.

    The bags on Don's eyes show through the dim light.

    Don has an AR slung around the front of him. He wears a pair     of jeans and a tan plate carrier sits over a white button up     shirt. On his shoulder sits a Sentinel Securities ID.

    Don wears an earpiece.

    The radio comes to life as MARCUS MATTHEWS, (34) keys his     microphone.

    Marcus is 6"4, with short auburn hair and brown eyes. He     wears a plate carrier with a white button up and a clip on     tie.

                         MARCUS                    (earpiece)               All teams, radio check.

    MICHAEL CHAVEZ, (24) keys his radio. He's Hispanic, 5"9 with     short black hair. He wears a black baseball cap and a tan     plate carrier. He carries a VEPR AK patterned rifle.

                         CHAVEZ               Alpha one, check.

    PAUL CARTER, (25) keys his microphone. He's a skinny     Caucasian with  short brown hair and blue eyes, 6"0. He wears     a pair of square glasses and carries a CZ Bren, with a     Beretta 92 on his hip.

                         CARTER               Alpha two, check.

    Marcus sighs into the radio.

    Don fumbles with his microphone.

                         DON               Fucking shit-

    He keys the microphone.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (into radio)               Alpha three, check.

    CONRAD MILLER, (28) keys his microphone. He's Caucasian, with     a light tan, brown eyes, and 6"2 with a muscular build. His     tired eyes show under the warehouse lights.

                         CONRAD               Alpha four, check.

    Don yawns. He meets back up with Conrad.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)                How you liking the job so far?

                         DON               About what I expected.

    Another narrow conex hallway in front of them.

                         CONRAD               You want to switch?

    Don chuckles.

                         DON               It's the same damn thing here,               dude!

    Conrad shrugs.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Fuck it.

    The two switch sides.

    The same setup sits in front of Don.

                         DON (CONT’D)                    (muttering)               Told him.

    Don walks forward, light forward.

    A thud.

                         MARCUS                    (earpiece)               All units, report.

                         CHAVEZ               Alpha one, all clear here.

                         CARTER               Alpha two, nothin' to note here.

    Don takes out his ear piece and listens again.

    A louder and more noticeable thud.

    Don puts his earpiece back in.

                         MARCUS                    (earpiece)               Paulsen, report, damn it.

                         DON                    (into mic)               Alpha three reporting, I got               something.

    Don slings his rifle forward.

                         DON (CONT’D)                WHO'S THERE?!

    Don pushes forward and flicks the safety off his rifle.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Fuck is that?

    Louder bangs- Something metallic.

    His chest heaves as he moves forward. Don slows down and     begins to control his breaths.

    More bangs come from next to him.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Who the fuck is in the container?

    He looks to both sides of him.

    Nothing.

    Don puts his earpiece back in.

                         DON (CONT’D)                    (into earpiece)               Be advised, found the source of the               sound.

                         MARCUS               Copy that, don't open that till we-

                         DON               Fuck that.

    Don takes out a pair of bolt cutters and cuts the locks off     the shipping container. He keeps his hand on his rifle, turns     on its light, and keeps it trained at the door.

    Don swings the door open.

    INT. SHIPPING CONTAINER - NIGHT

    His once tired eyes change to those of shock.

                         DON               Oh, fuck.

    Children lay on cots inside the container. One bucket sits on     each end of the container. Don covers his mouth and tries to     mask the stench of the container.

    At the very front, a child stands there. Don places his light     on him. His blue eyes shine in the darkness, his bowl cut     blonde hair shining off the light.

                         IND CHILD 1               Mama? Это ты?

                         DON               What?!

    Don looks past him and shines his light on the others.

                         DON (CONT’D)                English?

    The child's eyes give Don a blank stare.

                         IND CHILD 1               Это ты?

                         DON               I don't...

    Marcus walks into the container.

                         MARCUS               Hey, buddy...

    Don lowers his weapon. The child starts to rub his eyes.

                         DON               Hey man, we gotta go to the feds               about this-

    Behind Don, Chavez and Carter appear behind him.

    Marcus gets closer and holds something sharp in his hand.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Hey what the hell are you-

    Marcus stabs the child in the shoulder with the syringe and     takes it out.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Motherfucker!

    Don raises his handgun only for Carter and Chavez to put him     in a head lock. Marcus pulls the gun out of his hand.

    The child falls in front of him. Don struggles to get out of     their grasp as one kicks the back of his leg and brings him     to his knees. He falls forward and lets out a cry of pain as     he falls forward.

    Marcus picks the child up and sets him down in an empty cot.

    Marcus walks over to Don.

    His demeanor is calm, casual.

                         MARCUS               Donovan Paulsen.                    (smiles)               You live with your daughter,               formerly Ashley Wren Jackson, now               Ashley Paulsen at 4333 West Bell               Road, apartment 2043 in Phoenix.

    Don looks up at him with anger.

                         DON               These are god damn kids!

                         MARCUS               Donny, Donny, Donny.

    Don tries to struggle only to get held back as he looks up at     Marcus.

                         MARCUS (CONT’D)                Always the pessimist, aren't you?               You never were one for the bigger               picture.

    Don's eyes widen as he looks behind Marcus at the children on     cots.

                         DON               They're in fucking shipping               containers...

                         MARCUS               You are standing in front of a               moving train, Don. I'm just               protecting our bottom line. Now.               You get in our way.

    He reaches into a holster and pulls out a suppressed Ruger     Mark 2 and chuckles.

                         MARCUS (CONT’D)                And I'm going to kill your daughter               and make you watch.

    He reaches into Don's vest pocket and takes out a picture of     Ash.

                         MARCUS (CONT’D)                I've known you awhile buddy. I know               that you'll be fine, long as your               Ashley stays safe, you're happy. I               shoot you, well she gets everything               doesn't she? Ash is a great kid by               the way, always raises her hand to               ask questions and gets along with               all the guys in her class. A bit               different to what you were back in               the day huh?

    Don just looks down at the metal container's floor.

                         MARCUS (CONT’D)               Besides, capping four of your guys               isn't a very heroic thin-

    Don's eyes widen.

    His fists clench up and he lunges forward.

                         DON               FUCK YOU!

    Marcus laughs.

    Carter and Chavez pull him back.

                         MARCUS               Can you believe this fucking guy? A               "hero". If he was such a hero his               wife wouldn't have run off on him-

                         DON               IT AIN'T YOUR GOD DAMN BUSINESS YOU               SON OF A BITCH!

    Don lunges forward but gets pulled back by the two that hold     his arms.

                         MARCUS               You're so cute when you get pissy               like that. Now, what's it gonna be?

    Don goes silent as the anger on his face subsides. He goes     calm, only for a moment.

    His face changes to that of disgust.

                         DON               I won't talk.

    Marcus reaches into another vest pocket. He takes Don's     wallet.

    Marcus takes out Don's license snaps a photo of it. He puts     it all back and throws his wallet down.

                         MARCUS               Pick your shit up and get back to               it then.

    The two let him go.

                         DON               Yeah... Sure.

    The three walk out.

    Don still looks at the container, shock in his eyes.

    The kids in cots line the shipping container as Don stands     back up and walks out.

    The light shines on half his face. The other part of it stays     dark. He backs away and doesn't take his eyes off the kids     inside.

    The light inside the crate disappears as Don closes it.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

    Don walks past a wall that reads, SENTINEL SECURITIES.

                         DON               I can't believe they actually took               me.

    Don walks through a corridor. He wears a suit, the jacket     open.

    DAWN "MICHELLE" PAULSEN, (34) walks beside him. She's tan     5"9, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

                         MICHELLE               Well, a lot of things tend to when               you're the "Hero of Houston". Big               damn hero you are.

    Don shrugs.

                         DON               If it's just that, then I don't               really deserve it now, do I?

    Michelle rolls her eyes then stops.

                         MICHELLE               Honestly? You don't, Mikey.

                         DON               Excuse me?

    Michelle pulls out a security card and opens a door for him.

                         MICHELLE               First door to the right. Make sure               not to kill anyone along the way.

    Don raises his arms as anger registers on his face.

                         DON               You weren't there!

    She motions for him to enter. Don walks inside. The door     closes behind him.

    He takes a deep breath.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (muttering)               Cunt.

    Don walks forward and enters

    MEETING ROOM - DAY

    Matthews gives Don a warm smile.

                         MARCUS               Just wanted to congratulate you,               Mr. Paulsen. You're going to great               on our team.

    Don shakes his hand with a nervous grin.

                         DON               So, what am I going to be doing               exactly? I wasn't really clued in               on that.

                         MARCUS               Just security on high value cargo               from the Ukraine.

    Don nods.

                         DON               Anything I'll need?

                         MARCUS               Just everything you used during the               course, no real preference. It's               all you.

    Marcus gives a warm smile to him.

                         DON               Sounds good then.

    Marcus puts his hand out and offers a handshake.

    The two shake hands.

                         MARCUS               How's tomorrow night sound for your               first day?

                         DON               I don't see an issue.

    Marcus grins.

                         MARCUS               See you tomorrow then.

    Don walks out and takes the elevator down.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. FORD MUSTANG - DAY

    Don gets into his car and takes out his phone.

    He thumbs through his contacts and calls "Ashley". The     contact has a picture of a wrench on it.

    Below it reads, "My personal mechanic" and "daughter".

    Don waits a few moments.

    ASHLEY "ASH" PAULSEN, (18) picks up the call.

                         ASH (O.S.)               Yeah, what's up?

                         DON               Hey, just got off work, you need               anything?

                         ASH (O.S.)               Snap-Ons would be nice.

                         DON               You actually want me to get you               them?

                         ASH (O.S.)               Nah, my cheap shit should do me               just fine.

                         DON               In that case, I'll meet you back               home.

    Don gets on the freeway. The hair on his arms stick up. His     vision starts to close in as he continues to drive.

    JACQUELINE "JACKIE" MILLER, (28) sits next to him. She's 6"0,     average build, and has a decent sized rack. She wears a tan     jacket with a pair of jeans. On the left side of her belt she     wears a Hartford Police badge, on her right wears her police     issue Glock 17.

                         JACKIE               You know it wasn't going to work               out Don.

    Don looks forward and drives through traffic.

                         DON               Did you have the right? You didn't               even come to me about it.

                         JACKIE               We both know it wouldn't have- I               barely had enough to afford the               mortgage and your security gig               wasn't enough to-

                         DON               WE COULD'VE MADE IT...

    He turns to his side. Tears well in his eyes.

    The empty seat sits next to him. He shakes his head.

                         DON (CONT’D)                ...Work. It's only been a month and               I'm having that conversation again.               Motherfucker.

                                                       CUT TO:

    EXT. APARTMENT PARKING LOT - DAY

    The Mustang pulls up to the apartment. Don steps out and     closes the door behind him. He locks the car.

    INT. APARTMENT - DAY

    Don walks in and closes the door behind him.

    Ash sits on the couch and plays on a PS4. She's a 5"8 blue     eyed brunette and wears a pair of jeans with a green "82nd     Airborne" T-shirt.

    Ash's brunette hair is in a ponytail and she wears a red     baseball cap over it.

    Don motions to the dishes.

                         DON               You plan on getting these done any               time soon?

                         ASH               Yeah, yeah, sure dad.

    Don sits on the couch next to her.

                         DON               You doing okay? What you got there?

    Ash shrugs.

                         ASH               As good as I can be. Uncharted. One               of the guys in my class won't stop               talking about it, some shit about               the story. Enjoying it so far.

                         DON               Hey, that's good. I wanted to               apologize.

    Ash pauses the game and cocks an eyebrow at him.

                         ASH               For what?

    Don just shrugs. He opens his mouth to say something but     can't find the words.

                         DON               When I'm able to explain it, I               will. I gotta get ready for work.

    Ash looks down at his hand.

                         ASH               Is it about mom?

                         DON               Yeah... It's about mom.

    Don stands up to go to his room.

    Ash goes back to playing Uncharted.

    DON'S BEDROOM

    A newer model TV sits there plugged into a PS2, a PS4, and a     PS3.

    A gaming PC rig sits next to all of those. A walk in closet     sits in front of him. To his right is a bathroom. He goes     into the restroom and comes out to get ready. He's freshly     shaved, his hair in neat order.

    He puts on his clothes and puts on his white dress shirt with     a plate carrier, then puts on a pair of jeans.

    He reaches for a pair of tan combat boots and puts them on.

    Don goes into the walk in closet, taking an AR out of it then     puts his Sig in its holster and walks out of the room.

    MAIN APARTMENT

    Don walks over to Ash. She takes the time to look over.

                         ASH               Gonna go shoot someone?

    Don shrugs.

                         DON               I don't know. What I am gonna do is               head out, and when I come back I               want you to make sure those damn               dishes are done.

    She sighs and rolls her eyes.

                         ASH               Fine. I'll get 'em done.

    Don steps out of the house.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

    The door to the conex box closes behind him.

    Don stands there.

                         MATTHEWS               Now that we're all on the same               page...

    Matthews shoots a look to Don and motions to Conrad.

                         MATTHEWS (CONT’D)                Keep an eye on Mr. Paulsen.

    Don looks back at Conrad and gives him a scowl.

    Conrad nods at Matthews.

                         CONRAD               Yes, sir.

                         MATTHEWS               Good work tonight gents, we'll be               back it tomorrow. Hooah?

    Don still carries a look of confusion and fear in his eyes.

                         CONRAD               Hooah.

                         CHAVEZ               Hooah.

                         DON               Hooah.

                         CARTER               Hooah.

    Don walks out into

    EXT. WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - NIGHT

    The rain pours down. Don steps out, walks to his car, and     starts undoing his plate carrier.

    Conrad walks behind him.

    Don walks over to his car.

                         CONRAD               Paulsen.

    Don opens the trunk to his mustang and puts his plate carrier     in it.

    Conrad reaches his hand out.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)                Doc, you son of a bitch, come on.

    Don slams the trunk of his Mustang closed.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)                PAULSEN!

                         DON               WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!

    Don raises his arms at him in anger.

    Conrad glares at him.

                         CONRAD               Keep your fucking voice down, you               trying to get these guys on your               ass?

    Conrad puts his hands up.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)                Paulsen, look I'm trying not to do               what he says.

    Don gets into the driver's seat of his car.

                         CONRAD (CONT’D)                Let's talk.

    INT. FORD MUSTANG - NIGHT

    Don gets into his car and unlocks the door.

    Conrad gets in next to him.

                         CONRAD               You should've said no to that               offer.

                         DON               Oh, now you tell me. What happened               to you?

    Conrad looks down.

                         CONRAD               It's complicated-

                         DON               Kids in shipping containers?               Complicated? Killing the dude who               got your ass out of, oh I dunno...

    He starts counting on his fingers.

                         DON (CONT’D)                One, two, three, four- EIGHT               FUCKING BINDS?!

                         CONRAD               The last guy was one of ours back               in the day.

    Don leans back.

                         DON               And I'm supposed to care, why?

                         CONRAD               It was Cho.

    Don shakes his head in anger.

                         DON                    (muttering)               Fuck. Had to be Ricky, had to be               fucking Ricky.

                         CONRAD               I got a plan, but I need you with               me, not against me.

                         DON               Okay, Dutch. Does this plan involve               Tahiti?

                         CONRAD               Jesus, still a smart ass after all               these fuckin' years ain't you?

                         DON               Not much has changed.

    Conrad opens the door.

                         CONRAD               Keep your head down. When the time               comes, you'll know.

    Conrad gets out and closes the door behind him.

    Don sighs and sits back.

                         DON               Motherfucker.

    He starts his car and drives off.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

    Don comes into his apartment and turns the light on.

    He looks at the kitchen sink.

    There's still dirty dishes in it.

                         DON               Ah, damn it. Fuck.

    Don goes into her room. Ash sleeps and wears shorts and a t-     shirt.

                         DON (CONT’D)                You actually asleep?

    No response from her.

    Don rolls his eyes.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (muttering)               Great, just fucking great.

    He goes into the kitchen and starts washing dishes.

    During this, Ash comes out.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Ash, I told you to clean these-               Come on.

    Ash yawns.

                         ASH               Fuck, slipped my mind, sorry. I had               homework.

    Don sighs.

                         DON               There's gonna be a time where I'm               not gonna be here, you know that               right?

                         ASH               Well, if it's any consolation, I               found this.

    She takes out a Gameboy Advanced SP from her front pocket.

    Don's eyes widen. He stops cleaning the dishes and dries his     hands on his jeans.

    He opens it up and looks at the cartridge in it.

                         DON                    (softly)               Sweetie, was there a charger with               it?

    Don reaches out for it.

                         ASH               Five dollars.

                         DON               You fuckin' serious?

                         ASH               No.

    She smirks at him then passes it.

    Don takes out the cartridge.

                         DON               Pokemon Sapphire...

    His eyes look down.

                         ASH               Can I have it, dad?

    Don looks down. His gaze goes blank.

                         IND PERSON 1 (O.S.)               Can I have it? I'll give it back.

    He shakes his head.

                         DON               Yeah, sure Ash- Not a uh...               Problem. You can have it.

    A knock at the door.

    The clock on the microwave reads, "12:00".

    Don reaches into the side of his waistband and takes out his     Colt Defender.

                         DON (CONT’D) (CONT’D)               Ash, get away from the door.

                         ASH               Dad?

    Don gets in front of her and keeps his gun trained at the     door.

                         DON               Who's there?!

                         IND PERSON 2 (O.S.)               Courier service.

    The footsteps move away from the door.

    Don keeps the gun against the door and looks through the     peephole.

    He looks into it. A figure wearing jeans and a hoodie runs     down the staircase.

    Don opens the door, his weapon aimed forward.

    A yellow envelope sits on the ground below. His weapon still     trained at the staircase, he picks up the envelope.

    Don holsters his gun.

                         DON               Ash-

    Don stops. He opens the envelope.

    Pictures of Ash going into class appear. They all carry red     Xes on them.

    More photos appear as he looks through them.

                         ASH               Dad, what is it?

                         DON               Fuck.

    Don's eyes widen.

                         ASH               Dad? Talk to me. Come on.

    Ash looks at him with concern.

    Don goes into his room and closes the door behind him.

                         DON               Don't fuckin' worry about it.

    DON'S ROOM

    Don sits at his desk and dumps out the pictures in front of     him.

    He places his hands on his head as he starts to look through     all of them.

                         DON (CONT’D)               Oh, no. No, no, no...

    He lays them all out.

    The photos are all time stamped with the Don and Ash's     routine. Ash works on her car in one photo.

    In another, Don is out on a run.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Fuck.

    Don buries his head in his hands.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (whispering)               I can't fucking help them- But I               can get Ash out of this. I die,               they have nothing and no one to               leverage anymore...

    Don takes his gun out of his waistband and puts it to the     side of his skull. Tears roll down his eyes.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (whispering)               They're after me, no more me, no               more problems. It'll be easier. She               mourns me for a few weeks, gets 1.5               million dollars, all my guns.

    He takes a deep breath, puts his finger on the trigger.

                         DON (CONT’D)                     (whispering)               It'll be easier this way.

    A knock at the door.

                         ASH (O.S.)               Dad?

    Don exhales and puts the gun back on the table. His eyes     widen.

                         DON                    (muttering)               Oh my fucking god.

    Don looks at the door. His hands shake.

                         DON (CONT’D)                Y-Yeah, sweetheart?

                         ASH               There's still food in the fridge if               you were looking for it.

                         DON               I'll uh... Yeah, I'll be out there               in a sec.

                         ASH (O.S.)               You need me to call the cops?

    Don stops and takes a moment.

                         DON               I don't think they'll be able to               help us, Ash.

    Don unlocks the bottom of his desk with a key and throws the     pictures into it then relocks it.

                         DON (CONT’D)                She'll find it- I need her to.

    Don stands up and opens the door.

    MAIN APARTMENT

                         DON (CONT’D)               Hey.

    Ash cocks an eyebrow at him.

                         ASH               Dad, what the fuck is going on?

    Don just shakes his head.

                         DON               The less you know the safer you'll               be.

                         ASH               What the fuck does that mean?!

                         DON               I'll tell you later.

    Ash rolls her eyes.

                         ASH               It's always fucking like this with               you, dad! You're gonna get into               trouble and-

    She lets out an angered scream as she goes into her room and     slams the door.

    Don just looks forward with a tired stare.

    He changes his clothes and goes to bed.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

    Don walks through the warehouse again.

    He's alone. The lights around him shut off.

    Another light turns on and shines over a conex box. The same     one Don had entered previously.

    Don walks over to it.

    A metallic "thud" comes from the box.

                         IND VOICE 1 (O.S.)               Doc?! Doc I NEED HELP MAN! PAULSEN!

    A scream comes from the box.

    Don runs over and opens it, wide eyed.

    Men with black eyes wearing military fatigues sit on the     cots. They don't notice him, rather just sit there and look     at one thing in particular-

    The Russian kid from earlier sits in the middle of them.

    The child looks up at him with bright blue eyes.

                         RUSSIAN CHILD               Why couldn't you help me?

    INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

    Don wakes up screaming and crying.

                         DON               GO AWAY, FUCKING GO AWAY!

    He holds a pillow and cries.

    Don gets out of bed and checks his phone.

    "0300"

                         DON (CONT’D)                I think I've slept enough.

    Don gets up and goes to his bathroom.

                                                       CUT TO:

    INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

    Don just eats and reads a book on his phone. His eyes carry a     look of fatigue.

    Michelle walks over.

                         MICHELLE               HIYA MIKEE!

    She carries a smile on her face and sits in front of him. Don     gives a dejected look.

                         MICHELLE (CONT’D)                What's wrong Mikee? Hey.

                         DON               Did you know?

    She cocks heard head sideways.

                         MICHELLE               Mike, what- what are you talking               about?

    Don leans in.

                         DON               The damn kids.

    Michelle's eyes widen, then look down away from him.

                         MICHELLE               ...I didn't know.

    He takes a moment, then stares her dead in the eyes.

    Don leans in.

                         DON                    (whispering)               You're fucking lying to me.

                         MICHELLE                    (whispering)               Think of your daughter, Mikee. You               really want her to end up dead               because of you? Keep your mouth               shut, your head down, and your               wallet's gonna thank you for it.

    Don scowls at her and leans back.

    Matthews approaches and stops with a plate of food.

                         MATTHEWS               Ah, Mister Paulsen! I see you've               met the love of my life.

    Don winces at this.

                         MATTHEWS (CONT’D)               Hey there, baby.

    He gives Michelle a kiss. She blushes and giggles.

                         DON               Y'know, I ain't hungry anymore.

    He walks out in anger.

[craftholsters]

Glock 28 Review by Craft Holsters

Glock 28 Overview

The Glock 28 is a semi-automatic, recoil-operated, striker-fired pistol chambered in .380 ACP, designed for concealed carry and personal defense. Its subcompact frame features a 3.46-inch barrel and a lightweight design, holding a standard 10-round magazine. Known as the G28 Glock or 380 Glock, it offers a blend of compactness and firepower, making it an excellent choice for those seeking a reliable, easily concealable firearm. The Glock 28 boasts a high-strength polymer frame and a resilient finish, ensuring durability and resistance to environmental challenges, with prices ranging from $400 to $500.

Performance and Features

The Glock 28 is celebrated for its reliability and manageable recoil, providing a comfortable shooting experience for both novices and experienced users. This pistol features Glock's Safe Action System, which includes three automatic safeties to enhance security. Despite its small size, the Glock 28 delivers impressive accuracy and moderate recoil, making it suitable for self-defense and recreational shooting. Its robust construction ensures long-lasting performance, and while it may not be ideal for competitive shooting, it remains a practical choice for daily carry. To learn more about the Glock 28 Review, check out Craft Holsters' Glock 28 Review blog.

[allenmendezsr]

Concealed Carry Brave Response Gun Holster

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/concealed-carry-brave-response-gun-holster/

Concealed Carry Brave Response Gun Holster

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I have recently received my new Brave Holster. I must say this holster is unique, I like how a person can carry extra magazines and different size caliber firearms without switching to a different holster. This Concealed Carry Holster is the perfect holster for someone like me who works in high crime areas or someone who likes to hunt. With this holster, I feel like I’m prepare to protect my family in any environment. I highly recommend Brave holsters to be your choice for concealed carry holsters. -Patrick in Chicago (Current law enforcement and Firearm Instructor)

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I purchased my new holster because I was looking for something more comfortable for concealed carry. It is VERY comfortable! Also, it works great for all of my handguns and pistols. I have 2 revolvers and 2 semi autos.My Ruger KP95 is a large framed handgun and it carries comfortably. My .357 Magnus also carries quite comfortable with this holster. I basically replaced ALL my other holsters with this one. Thank you for a great design and the amazing comfort. I carry daily and was not always comfortable doing so until I got this holster. – John in Tooele UT

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Like a lot of guys I’ve been in the hunt for the best conceal carry holster. The “best” is somewhat subjective, but let it suffice to say, if your holster isn’t comfortable or doesn’t conceal your weapon well, you’re probably not going to be carrying your weapon. That means you’re likely to be unprepared when the need arises. I’ve heard it said that your holster shouldn’t be comfortable, it should be comforting. After wearing the new holster, I can say with conviction, “Nonsense”. My new holster allows me to carry my Glock 23 with three full magazines while wearing just about any type of clothing. It’s so comfortable and concealable, I wear it everywhere I go. That’s the ultimate fulfillment of the comfortable AND concealable criteria. Well done! – Ken in Tigard OR

This holster is the most comfortable I’ve ever worn. After 28 years of law enforcement I can’t believe I find this holster now. I will continue caring my weapon. -Gerald in Indian Land SC

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Got my holster and have put all my other holsters in the bottom dresser draw. Without a doubt the most comfortable concealed holster I have ever worn. Love the fact that you can carry two mags and a flashlight, although when carrying an extended mag it can poke you in the side a little; but still can’t be beat. For those other big guys worried that it might not fit, it has ample room in the belt to fit us; I’m 6’3″ and 290lbs. You have a winner as far as I’m concerned!!!!!!!! – David in Orange VA

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[gripefroot]

Risky Business

Slamming through the door with your knee, you stride through and toss the duffel bags you were carrying onto the bed. From inside, the sound of the blizzard winds and howling storm can still be heard, but it’s muted. As Bucky follows you inside, dumping his own gear, you pull open the curtains obscuring the window and gaze out to the - well, nothing, really. It’s impossible to see anything through the conditions. 

“This isn’t going to end well,” Bucky prophecies as you snap the curtains shut again. The hotel room is suddenly much dimmer. Turning around with a sigh, you yank down the zipper of your coat. He glances over, a tiny smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.  

“Aw, come on,” you say lightly. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Bucky mimics. Then, holding up a hand, he ticks off his fingers one by one. “Let’s see - the mission fails. We die. Someone else dies. We can’t even complete the mission because of the weather. We get stuck here all weekend.” 

“That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” It’s tempting to laugh, but you don’t. Meeting his gaze for a moment over the bed, he shakes his head as he rummages through one of his bags, producing a handful of knives and holsters. You busy yourself opening your own bag. Your favorite glock, which you give a once-over before securing it to the holster at your thigh. Bucky is peeking over with a great deal of interest.  

“But you know what would be the absolute worst?” you tease. “If we had to up our game pretending to be a happily-honeymooning couple and the team heard us having sex over the coms.” 

Bucky’s brows shoot into his hairline. Lips parted, he stares as you smirk and strap on a holster across your chest.  

“So you’re implying...it’s an option,” he says.  

“I did no such thing,” you tell him, buckling the strap with a snap. “I only said it would be the worst.” 

“Having sex with me? The worst?” His blue eyes flicker a challenge, but you laugh. But it’s cut off as staticky feedback fills your ears. Then Tony Stark’s voice - Bucky’s smile fades as he, too, presses a finger to his ear to listen in. 

“Team Hot Shot, report.” 

“We’re in the hotel,” you answer. “It’s full up - we asked the receptionist. So the targets should be here.” 

“Haven’t heard any noise next door,” Bucky adds.   

“Cap and Falcon are in position for surveillance, if they don’t freeze first. Gotta keep the ball rolling here. Sam’s toes are on the line.” 

“Well, I’d do anything for Sam’s toes,” you reply sardonically, noting Bucky’s arched brow in your direction.  

“I’ll pass on the message. Keep in touch.” 

And the com goes dead. 

“So what if the team isn’t listening in on the coms?” Bucky asks, picking up the previous conversation at once as he sheds his jacket. Your eyes flicker over the muscles of his arm, visible beneath a deliciously tight shirt. Biting your lip, you tug out a few wires and contraptions to hook up.  

“They can turn on the sound anytime to hear what we’re doing,” you remind him. “That’s a bit of a risk, don’t you think?” 

“Every reward has a risk,” Bucky teases as you walk past him. Tossing him back a coquettish look over your shoulder, you refrain from responding. That’ll teach him. Well, not really - it’ll just rile him up more.  

You tear off a bit of tape and secure a tiny camera to the peephole on the door. If the targets aren’t in their room at present, at least you’ll be able to tell when they return. Bucky brings over a laptop, and you hook the wires in and wait patiently for the feed to come in. It’s a little hard to concentrate with him standing so close, but hey - you’ve had practice. Once the flickering view comes in of the empty hall, you haul over a chair so he can set the computer down. 

“That’s going to obscure our route to the door,” Bucky points out.  

“Unless they come in through the window guns blazing, it’s unlikely we’ll have to make a swift exit. Remember the plan?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Didn’t recall an attack through the window being an option.” 

“This hotel houses foreign diplomats and nationals,” you say. “They won’t break under anything less than hefty. Even you might have some trouble getting through.” 

“Ha, ha,” Bucky says, and as you turn from the door you feel his fingers belatedly grab for your waist. He comes up empty, but the soft touch is enough to send little prickles across your skin.  

Focus.  

The target is a group of terrorists handing off weapons to local extremists. Tony had picked up on the case a few days earlier, and while something like this is normally handled by Special Ops, the terrorists have links to some crazy fools with bigger dreams. Tony intends to dismantle the threat now before it worsens - which is fair. And that’s why you’re presently in Stockholm in the middle of January, secured in a hotel room with Bucky Barnes which is both the first and last place you want to be. For a few different reasons.  

But he surprises you. Bucky behaves perfectly well over the next few hours, apart from a few sly glances and a little wink when you decide to sharpen your knives to pass the time. Luckily he was lounging near the door, and you’d taken up by the window. Distance helps.  

Steve comes in over the coms. Immediately you stand, in tandem with Bucky.  

“Targets moving in. West entrance. Got a 20 on their ride; Sam and I are after the goods.” 

“Team Hot Shot, wait until they get to their room to apprehend,” Tony advises. “I’m following up on air surveillance.”  

Checking again the Glock at your thigh, you reach over the bed to pick up two assault rifles, lying in the neat rows you and Bucky had arranged your gear in. Working together often has its advantages - the pair of you have a system. An effective one. At the door, you pass Bucky his rifle, joining his gaze on the laptop screen. Nothing yet.  

Tucking the rifle into your shoulder, you wait. And then voices are heard down the hall, muffled. Several dark figures pass outside the door, blurry in the feed. You count seven.  

“Seven perps,” Bucky says softly into the coms. “We may need backup.” 

“Pshaw,” you tell him. “We got this, Sergeant.” 

He lifts a brow. “Whatever you say, Agent. But it’s on your head.” 

“It always is.” 

The sound of the door to the room next door closing (and locking), is heard in the silence. Bucky nudges the chair away from the door to your room, and you give him a brief nod. He yanks it open, leading the way out.  

Adrenaline starts to pump through your veins. Though you’ve done this many, many times in your life - in a new environment, it still sharpens your senses. Outside the target’s door, Bucky lifts a fist. He gives a single knock, but then sends his fist through the door, and kicks it open.  

What can you say? The man has manners. 

Two men - guard, no doubt - lift guns at the intrusion. You and Bucky each get one (non-lethal shots, of course, but enough to take them down), and the other scramble to their feet, ready to dart. Not that there’s anywhere to go. Especially since you see Tony hovering in his suit outside the window. You give him an ironic wave, which he returns.  

“What is the meaning of this?” The man in the central, the shortest and thinnest, is indignant. You understand his words reasonably well, but your speaking of his tongue is a bit poor. Bucky barks back - his grasp of the language is better - something about illegal guns and terrorist groups and such. Which the target immediately refutes. Gun trained on one man with his hands up, you sidle over to the table, peering down briefly.  

“Oh look, a couple thousand dollars and a map of the Stockholm underground,” you say. “With red dots in the busiest stops. Targets, maybe, do you think? Sergeant? Stark?” 

Stark knocks on the window, startling the men into jolting around. The blood in their faces drain when they see him, and Tony gives a cheeky wave. 

“If we have the evidence, the police can take care of them,” Stark says into the coms. “Cuff ‘em up, you too.”  

Bucky snaps a few more things at them in their language, and reluctantly they kneel down on the ground. With Bucky standing to the side menacingly (he’s very good at that), you unlatch a set of chain cuffs, bending over to snap them onto each man. And the injured ones, too, who are moaning and bleeding on the floor. Oops.  

“We made a mess,” you tell Bucky ruefully.  

“Think Stark will send us home tonight?” he asks, diverting the topic. 

“Dunno.” 

“I’d be sad to not take advantage of our shared room.”  

Bucky, teasing mid-mission. How very unlike him. You glance over with a smile, enjoying the smirk on his lips. Lovely. 

But there’s no time to enjoy it more. Several police officers rush into the room, which immediately becomes a scene of chaos. You duck off to the side, to let the police do their job leading the terrorists away. Slinging your gun over your shoulder, you shove your hands in your pockets as you watch.  

“Well, I’ve already booked the rooms,” Tony says over the com. He has left the window - probably doing additional surveillance. “We can stay the night, do a little sightseeing - or we can head home. Cap?” 

“Sounds fine to me,” Steve’s voice says. “Easy mission. Might be nice to have a night out.” 

“Falcon?” 

“I’m here. And I don’t say no to a free hotel.” 

“Agent 28? Barnes?” 

In the emptying room, you catch Bucky’s eyes. The expression in them is clear as day, and you hold back a smile. Quietly you creep across towards him. “Barnes got hit,” you lie, as his blue eyes widen above you. “He’s a bit dazed - I think he might be concussed. He’s going nowhere without a good nights’ sleep.” 

“He looked fine to me,” Stark says after a moment.  

“He was, until you left. Then one of the perps got wise and tried to break out. Took a shot at Barnes before we knew what was happening. We got him, though.” 

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Steve asks. 

“Nah. In my experience, this sort of thing will clear up pretty fast. He’s barely bleeding.” 

Bucky, watching you lie expertly to the team without once cracking, obligingly lets out a moan of distress. “That rat bastard,” he mutters, and you stifle a giggle. “Prison is too good for him.” 

“Yikes. Not the attitude we want on a night out. Agent? You coming with us?” 

“Nah. I’ll make sure Barnes wakes up during the night so that he doesn’t slip into a coma. You never know, with these super soldiers.”  

All the police and terrorists have gone, and the room and hall are quiet. Your fingers trace a pattern upwards on Bucky’s tactical vest, and you hear him inhale sharply.  

“Well, thanks, Agent,” Stark says.  

“I can come later and relieve you - ” Steve starts to say. 

“No, that’s okay,” you interrupt quickly. “I’ve been to Stockholm before, and you haven’t. Go enjoy yourself. I wouldn’t mind some sleep myself - had an early wake up call this morning.” 

“If you need any bandaids, I’ve got some great Hello Kitty ones that will look great on Barnes,” Sam teases. Bucky’s lips twitch in annoyance, and your fingers curl around his collar. Annoyance disappeared from his expression faster than a gunshot.  

“Not necessary,” you say lightly, meeting Bucky’s heated gaze with a wink. “I’ll take care of him. You boys go have fun.” 

“Thanks, Agent.” 

“Yeah, thanks. We’ll make it up to you sometime.” 

Lifting a hand, you pull the com out of your ear. Then Bucky’s, and you close a fist over them as a beaming smile spreads across your face. “That was easier than I expected,” you admit. “I thought I might have to really clock you so they’d believe you’re injured.” 

Bucky blinks. “You would hit me?” 

“To have a night to ourselves? You betcha.” 

His eyes sweeping your face, a smirk grows on his lips as his fingers trace the curve of your hip. “Then you definitely wouldn’t be getting laid, Agent.” 

“A risk I would gladly take.” 

“How about the risk of Steve barging in later and seeing us naked?” Bucky purrs, wiggling your hips closer to align with his.  

“We can lock the door, silly. He’d get the point. Probably.” 

“And what if Tony turns back on the coms to give us an urgent message, and all he hears is you moaning and screaming my name - ” 

Grinning, you tilt your chin upwards, nudging your nose against the scruff of his chin. “I never scream.” 

“You say that now.” 

A giggle bursts from your mouth, just as you stand on your tiptoes to wind your arms around Bucky’s neck and press your lips to his. But only for a moment, and then you pull away, licking your lips to taste him again.  

“Aren’t you gonna tell me how clever I am for coming up with such a great lie?” you purr.  

“Yeah, my girl’s clever alright,” Bucky says gruffly, his flesh hand sliding beneath your shirt to stroke the skin of your stomach. “Too clever. You’re gonna get us caught sometime.” 

“Never.” 

“You just wait.” With a chuckle he nips at your nose. You lean back, scrunching your face, and Bucky takes the opportunity to bend down and pick you up to sling over his shoulder. Yelping, you grasp your rifle just before it falls to the floor, and unrepentant, Bucky strides from the crime scene and back to your own room.  

“Stark could be watching the security feed,” you remind him, jolting with his steps.  

“He’s probably too busy reporting to the police. ‘Sides, we’re here already.” Through the door, and you hear him close it and secure both locks. Then his hands are creeping towards your behind, and he lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all to set you on the floor. You’re ready with a brow quirked at his smile, as you gesture towards the gun in your hand. 

“Your gun safety isn’t quite up to par, Sergeant,” you tease. “Not very safe to jolt it around like that, huh?” 

“You wanna talk about jolting?” Lifting the strap to his gun over his head, Bucky takes a step towards you, backing into the wall. Oh, the expression in his face, the darkening of his eyes - it melts you. He can probably hear the little flutter in your heart, and it makes him grin. Gently he pries your gun away, and points his opposite fingers towards your nose. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

“But - ” 

“Don’t move.” 

“Bucky - ” 

“Don’t.” 

So you roll your eyes instead.  

Leaning your head against the wall, you watch as Bucky gathers up the gear strewn across the bed, piling it haphazard on the desk. Gun safety, indeed. Then he sheds his tac vest, running his fingers through his hair as he saunters slowly back to you.  

“Got you right where I want you,” he murmurs, coming close and dipping his head to nuzzle into your neck. You bite back a moan, clutching his biceps to steady yourself.  

“What? Against a wall?” 

Bucky chortles. “With nowhere to run. Nowhere to be. You’ve been busy lately, babe.” 

“I have a demanding job,” you remind him, trailing your fingers upwards to tangle in his loose, dark hair. 

“And what about me?” He nips at your earlobe, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“You’re a bit demanding, I guess.”  

Bucky’s lips fasten to the sensitive spot behind your ear, and a choked whimper parts your lips as you arch your back, desperate for more. But he only chuckles, and pulls away. 

“Bucky…” you whine. He kisses the base of your throat, nuzzling down between your breasts and down your belly, where his fingers make short work of the zipper of your pants. His breath is hot, and your eyes flutter shut as your fingers tug on his hair, legs quivering.  

“You should spend more time with me,” he teases, sliding down the waistband of your pants - and underwear - down over your behind and to your knees. You peek open your eyes to see his bright blue eyes, sparkling with mischief as he grins. “I’m worth your while.” 

“Are you?” you tease back. He nips at the skin of your thighs, his eyes not moving from yours. Already hot tingles are bursting across your body, a coil of arousal growing taut between your legs as Bucky gives your core a little taste. But just a little. His expression is wicked. He knows what he’s doing to you.  

“Yes,” you pant, leaning your head back against the wall again. “Yes! You’re worth my time. Bucky, please!”  

“Want something, babe?” 

“Yes. Get on with it!” 

“Mmm. Impatient, are we?” But he must sense the frustration tightening your limbs, because he obliges, dipping his head back between your legs as tremors of delicious heat spread from your center. Moaning, you brace yourself with a hand on the wall behind you as your muscles cease to work full function. Bucky’s low chuckle vibrates through your core as he pulls away slightly.  

“You taste better after missions,” he says huskily. Your heart is pounding fast, but somehow you manage to reply. 

“Must be the adrenaline.” You think for a moment, carding your fingers through his hair. “Not that the mission today was very difficult, but…” 

“It was extremely difficult, what are you talking about?” Bucky asks indignantly, standing and gently curving his fingers around your waist with a smile. You flinch away from the cold metal.  

“What are you talking about?” you ask, perplexed. Bucky lets out a long, slow breath.  

“See you in that thigh holster, babe. Makes it hard for me to keep it in my pants.” 

You burst into startled laughter. As you’re howling, he picks you up by the hips and carts you to the bed. Still overcome, you barely notice when he tugs off your pants the rest of the day, tossing them carelessly aside with your combat boots and socks. Then your shirt, followed by your bra without ceremony.  

“Okay, it wasn’t that funny,” Bucky interrupts. You peek through tears of mirth to see his face, slightly red, as he tugs off his shirt. Now that will sober a girl up. Planes and ridges of hard muscle, taut under his skin as he fumbles with his belt.  

“I bet it is hard to keep it in your pants,” you tease. “That’s a pretty tight pair.” 

“Make my butt look good?” Bucky turns and gives a wiggle of his hips, which makes you laugh again.  

“Your butt always looks good, Sergeant.” You lean over to give said butt an affection pat. “Must be all them squats you do when I’m spying on you in the gym.”  

“Squats?” He tilts a brow upwards. “Oh, no - this is all, 100% natural.” 

“Natural Soviet super soldier serum, you mean?”  

“All organic,” Bucky says with a wry grin, and suddenly he’s crawling over you, pressing you back into the bed.  

“You don’t know that,” you point out, placing one hand on a delectable pectoral, which flexes under your fingers. But you can’t laugh again - you have a feeling that Bucky might start to get really hot and bothered if you keep giggling at him. Well, there are worse things.  

Hooking a foot behind his knee, you drag Bucky forward until his face is above yours. He’s smirking, but you don’t care. 

“How about a kiss for your girl?” you murmur.  

“I guess she’s been good.” And he rewards you with a single peck on the lips. You frown.  

“I’ve been better than good, pal. If it weren’t for me, you’d be out with Stark and the boys, goofing off. But you can be here, with me.” You hoist yourself onto your elbows, face level with Bucky’s as his magnetizing gaze holds yours. Unable to keep from smirking, you bite your lip as his eyes flicker down to your mouth.  

“At least I wouldn’t have to keep up with your sass,” he teases.  

“You love it.” 

“I love you.”

You blink, and his smile lights his eyes impishly. Bucky...had never said that he loved you before. But the weight of the moment isn’t cumbersome, or awkward - it just...it is. Natural. As if he’s loved you all along, and you him. He dips his head to gently bite at your collarbone, causing shivers to race up your skin. 

“Silliness and all,” he adds. 

With a whimper you fall back, and his thick thighs part your legs with an answering groan from his chest. His elbows rest on the bed, effectively trapping you within his embrace. But you don’t want to leave. Tracing down the muscles of his back with the pads of your fingers, there’s no more teasing -  

Bucky’s hips grind into yours, and the sensation of finally being filled causes your breath to catch as tendrils of carnal heat curl through your limbs. Whimpering in your throat as his lips travel south to your breast, you rock your hips up to meet his, and another low groan vibrates from him.  

Sometimes it’s rushed (in supply closets), sometimes it’s desperate (before or after being apart for an extended time), sometimes it’s lazy (in the morning. Well - once. When he’d snuck over to your apartment and fallen asleep after making love for a record amount of time. Still one of your favorite memories). 

But now, it’s all sweetness and sincerity as you move together, enticingly slow but not torturously so, and when your heart begins to skip and your breath comes in ragged gasps, Bucky lifts his head with a grin to gaze down at you. Then it gets a little sloppy, and your knees clench around his hips to keep him steady. 

“You’re magnificent,” he whispers hoarsely. “Just look at you - my girl. All mine.” And when your climax sprints your system suddenly and fiercely, Bucky lowers his head to swallow your moans with his mouth. Then his hips stutter clumsily, and you rake your fingernails down his back as he groans loudly, and stops.  

“Damn,” he says after a quiet moment.  

You give a throaty giggle, nudging Bucky to the side so you can breathe. He falls to the bed with another groan, before pulling you into his side, legs tangling. A gentle kiss is pressed to your temple.  

“Better than going out?” you ask softly, closing your eyes as you trace your fingers along the metal ridges of his arm. He chuckles, and you’re rewarded with another kiss.  

“A thousand times better.”

[goseb90]

Best Belly Band Holsters Reviews 2019

ComfortTac Belly Band Holster: Locating a comfortable method to conceal to take can be hard. When there are many conceal to carry options, none are quite as comfortable as the belly band holster. If you're looking for a belly band that will secure your firearm and keeps your comfortable, you may want to test the ComfortTac Belly Band Holster.

Top 10 Belly Band Holster Review

The ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is a great option for relaxation, flexibility, and concealed carry. This belly band holster offers a one size fits all strategy, which means that you may correct it based on what feels comfortable for you. It's also produced from comfortable neoprene substances that is built to stretch and cover up to a 44" belly. It's soft enough to wear against the skin, since the product was intended.

Beyond the relaxation that this belly band holster offers, it's available for both ideal hand and left hand draws. Some of the guns that this gut band can carry comprise a Glock 19, 23, 38, 25, 32, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39, 28, 33, 42, 43, 36, Bodyguard, M&P Shield, Smith and Wesson, Ruger, Sig Sauer, Kahr, Beretta, Springfield, Taurus, Kimber, Bersa, Kel Tec, Rock Island, Walther, and more.

Overall, to get a reliable belly band holster, the ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is a fantastic bet. It conceals all types of firearms efficiently and makes carrying comfortable, which can be all you need and want from the best belly band holster.

Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster

Looking to take and totally conceal any firearm and ammo with no coat? If you're trying to find the ideal way to conceal and carry a firearm, you might want to consider investing in a bellyband. More specifically, an Active Pro Gear Belly Band Holster for easy, flexible carrying options.

The Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster is designed for flexibility and motion. It can be adjusted to sit anywhere on or around the waist, comes in a wide assortment of sizes to fit, and was designed with comfort in mind. The flexibility of the band material will not dig in or cause discomfort, unlike many other belly band holster new choices.

This belly band holster can carry and completely conceal anything from big frame semi-automatic guns and revolvers to little pistols and everything in between. This holster stretches while staying secure, making it perfect for active lifestyles and everyday use, which is among the greatest advantages of choosing this belly band holster.

The Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster is reasonably priced for great performance. There's not any clip to give away that you are concealing a weapon as well, that is a huge advantage for those looking to fully hide and it even has a mag pouch. Overall, this gut ring is well worth the investment.

It's created with blue lace and elastic, a exceptional look one of the quality of black belly band holsters.

While this belly band holster alternative stands out for it's looks, it's other useful standout features too. The Don't Tread On Me Conceal and Carry Belly Band Holster is designed with light padding to add to the comfort of the belly band, equipped with heavy duty denim and a velcro belt which fits most (32-40"). And talking of strength, the pouch includes a duck warm water resistant coating to stop your gun from becoming wet under any weather conditions.

This belly band holster will accommodate most guns with a 4 inch barrel or not as when you select a medium buckle, but bigger guns can be accommodated with a massive belly band holster rather than And of course this belly band allows for wear with all the waistband on the inside or the outside.

In general, this is a best belly band holster that does it all. It is comfortable, allows for a variety a movement, and offer unique durability. For camping, hiking, and other vigorous activities, this belly band holster can be excellent for regular usage.

UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster

The UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster is all about versatility and comfort. When purchasing a belly band holster, you must always prioritize relaxation, especially in the event that you'll be wearing the holster for extended hours. Some tummy bands will dig in and cause discomfort and sometimes bruising if the sizing is not accurate. To avoid any discomfort, you'll want to decide on a belly band that is comfortable and remains comfortable after hours of constant use.

If you choose the UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster, you'll find the kind of comfort you want and need to get a belly band holster. The ring is made out of soft, stretch elastic and has a velcro closure for simple modification as required. This belly band is also equipped with a 6-inch pocket for all types of storage such as spare magazines, credit cards, important files, and more, adding to the convenience of the version.

Also, these bands can be ordered in either white or black, to match your carrying and mixing needs. In most situations and actions, this belt can act to make certain you're carrying to shield yourself with relaxation and balance in mind.

Last but not least, the Way Belly Band Holster is the most affordable belly band holster on our list. It offer a 4 inch bend ring to accommodate your waist comfortably. This belly band holster accommodates all places all in 1 holster, allowing for left and right hand pulls. It is intended to reach low on the hips for comfort, which is fantastic for extended wearing. And of course that this belly band is created for breathability and moisture wicking, to keep you comfy.

There are actually several places to store firearms with all the belly band holster! If you value a fantastic match for your firearm that will stay in place throughout the afternoon, the Four Means Belly Band Holster may be right for you and your requirements.

This belly ring holster is ideal for casual wear, anyhow. It's comfortable and accommodates motion, while giving you the security you want with a wide range of firearms. Not to mention that's allows for a full concealed, low carry.

If you would like to find out more about belly ring holsters, you will want to learn the advantages of opting to continue with a belly band instead of using any other method. There are many procedures that assist you conceal and carry, such as shoulder holsters, fanny packs, along with other waistband holsters.

The advantages do not stop at relaxation, either. They are fantastic for active lifestyles and everyday wear due to the position of the belt as well. And of course that they are fully adjustable, usually with velcro, and they may be worn anywhere on the waist or hips. Belly band holsters will also be designed to carry a broad selection of firearms, from larger semi autos and revolvers to small pistols.

Belly Band Holsters are worn around the inside, from the skin. They are extremely comfy, but some wearers find waistband holsters worn on the exterior more comfortable. However, holsters worn on the outside often offers less concealment when carrying any type of firearm. They may also inhibit a few users from getting a good grip when drawing and can be hard to reholster.

Overall, gut ring holsters can provide you a simple, comfortable carrying experience. If you're searching for a great regular carrying solution, particularly if you lead an active way of life, you should consider a belly band holster. They're flexible and effective, allowing for easy movement and they come in all sizes to accommodate a range of body kinds of dimensions. Here is a quick overview of the pros and cons of choosing a belly band holster for concealed carry.

Now you know more about our top five choices for stomach band holsters along with the pros and cons of choosing a belly band over other types of holsters, you'll have to know how to choose the best belly band holster to the carrying needs. Use this buyer's guide that will help you choose the ideal belly band holster for you.

Here are a few things to keep in mind when choosing a belly band holster, especially if you're planning for everyday transport.

Substance First things first, you are going to need to have a look at the material of the gut ring you're considering. A fantastic belly band should be made from a pliable, flexible material which allows for comfort while you move. Also, you will need to be certain that the material on a stomach band wicks away moisture, bonus if the material is water resistant also.

If you're allergic to certain cloths, you'll need to make sure you stay away from those materials too. Always check the cloth and material list before you opt for a belly band holster!

Carrying Capacity You'll need to locate a belly band holster that will accommodate some of those firearms that you want to take also. Most belly rings allow for a range of carry, but you'll want to check that the firearm or firearms you are seeking to carry will be accommodated by the belly band holster you decide on.

Most belly band holsters are made to be flexible in their fit, usually with velcro or another type of fastener. A tight, but comfortable fit is ideal to keep your firearm protected, especially if you're planning on wearing it daily. It should stay in place and allow for comfortable movements.

Storage And Additional Features If you want any extra features, you'll want to start looking for them in your belly band holster. They are made to be fairly basic, but some belly band holsters come with a pocket for items like cards, cellphones, and extra ammo, which can be a helpful addition to a holster.

How To Wear A Belly Band Holster

After wearing a belly band, you're going to want to enhance comfort and usability. In order to get the absolute most from your holster, you'll have to know the best way to wear your belly band holster. Here are a few tips and tricks that can allow you to put on your belly band holster effectively.

Be Sure to Choose Have The Ideal Fit First things first, make sure to have the right fit. You should pick a belly band holster that will accommodate your body measurements. It is possible to measure your waist and hips to ensure you have a belly ring which can fit you and your dimensions.

Secure Your Band Always make sure you secure your gut band. Most holsters will come with come with velcro or another kind of fastener that can help you get a personalized fit. It is also possible to re-adjust as because you need throughout the day.

Holster Your Own Gun Next, holster your own firearm. Make certain it is both hidden and secure from the holster. Adjust your clothes accordingly so that the firearm is no more visible and does not leave prints. Carrying the firearm lower can help you achieve better concealment outcomes.

Move about and Make Adjustments Then consider moving around to determine where you want to make adjustments. Begin by standing up, walking around, and sitting down. You might also want to complete tasks you do daily sporting the holster to find out whether it constricts you and how comfortable it's to wear. From that point, it is possible to make adjustments accordingly.

Round Up, Wrap Up

Now you know more about our top five picks for belly band holsters, the advantages and disadvantages of choosing a belly band holster, and the best way to wear one effectively.

The ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is our best pick because it gives great concealment for transport, adjustability, and it is comfy for long wear everyday. If you want a excellent staple for carrying regular with simplicity, you might gain from this belly band holster. But, make certain to pick the best belly band holster match for you and your carrying needs.

[cheaperchinastuff]

IWB Gun Holster by Houston | ECO LEATHER Concealed Carry Soft Material | Suede Interior for Maximum Protection | (right) (CHP-57G-RH) Reviews

IWB Gun Holster by Houston | ECO LEATHER Concealed Carry Soft Material | Suede Interior for Maximum Protection | (right) (CHP-57G-RH) Reviews

IWB Gun Holster by Houston | ECO LEATHER Concealed Carry Soft Material | Suede Interior for Maximum Protection | (right) (CHP-57G-RH) Strong Metal Clip for Maximum Retention Safe, Easy and Comfortable to Use as Concealment Triple Stitched for Strength and Durability Fits: Glock 19 23 25 26 27 28 29 30 32 33 36 38 39 43 | Springfield XDs | Taurus 707, PT 809, SLIM, 703, 740, PT111 G2 Millenium Pro…

[permit2carrysd]

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$65.00 - SOUTH DAKOTA ENHANCED PERMIT TO CARRY CONCEALED CLASS FREE BONUSES: **ARIZONA NON-RESIDENT CONCEALED CARRY PERMIT** **CROSS BREED HOLSTERS / 15% Off Discount Code!** **GLOCK SWAG** This class is for law-abiding adult citizens, as defined by applicable federal, state, or local laws. Teaches the basic knowledge, skills, and attitude essential to the safe and efficient use of a handgun for protection of self and family, and to provide information on the law-abiding individual's right to self-defense. With your SD Enhanced Permit, a South Dakotan could carry concealed into 38 states! Some of the states you could carry concealed into include: Iowa, Colorado, Minnesota, Nebraska, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Wyoming, Montana, and 30 other states. Enhanced Permits issued on or after 01/01/2017 is an optional permit that will allow approved permit holders the ability to present the permit to a retailer when purchasing a firearm, in lieu of a National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS). The card proves passage of the National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS) background check on the spot. If you choose to apply for the optional Arizona Non-resident Concealed Carry Permit you could also carry into New Mexico! COURSE LENGTH: 4 Hours COURSE PRICES: Open Enrollment Classes: $65.00(plus tax)* FUTURE CLASS DATES: • 09/24/2019 - SD ENHANCED PERMIT CLASS - $65.00 +tax - Mitchell, SD (Indoor Range) • 09/28/2019 - SD ENHANCED PERMIT CLASS - $65.00 +tax - Mitchell, SD (Indoor Range) To sign up or find out more visit our website: www.Permit2CarrySD.com #NRAInstructorMatthewSchlueter #Permit2CarrySD #SDEnhancedPermit #MNPermittoCarry #IAPermittoCarry #SDEnhancedPermittoCarryConcealed #MNPermittoCarryConcealed #IAPermittoCarryConcealed (at Dell Rapids Sportsmen's Club) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2G-Jy_D_Rx/?igshid=13tahm7182pm7

[lojasbrasileiras]

B.B.F Make IWB Tactical KYDEX Gun Holster Glock 19 17 25 26 27 28 43 22 23 31 32 Inside Concealed Carry Pistol Case Accessories

B.B.F Make IWB Tactical KYDEX Gun Holster Glock 19 17 25 26 27 28 43 22 23 31 32 Inside Concealed Carry Pistol Case Accessories

 Fits: Glock 19 / Glock 17/ Glock 26 / Glock 43,19X ,23 , 32,17,25,26,27,43,23,32,22,33 (Gen 1-5) KYDEX Gun Holster - No Light/Laser Attachments - OWB Carry - Select Opposite Draw Hand

The major wear and friction points out of this KYDEX Holster - Easy to plug in and out - Fitted without looseness

Made of .08" Thickness KYDEX Material - 1.5" Standard Belt Clip (0-15 Degrees with Phillips…