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notquitecanon · 2 months ago

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Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x hacker!reader

Summary: A kinda prologue to Search History, While you're having your menty b back on base, a little bit from the boys' perspective. Specifically Simon. Alexa, play Mastermind by Taylor Swift.

Part One Next Part

CW: NSFW MDNI 18+ female pronouns , porn, porn, lots of porn allusion, the boys are all handsy with each other, Simon's lowkey manipulating the situation, again irl this is harassment, stalking warning to be safe? mentions of oral and vaginal sex, really just me being nasty from Simon's point of view

It took a long time to gain access to Simon’s inner circle. Simon Riley had a habit of being intense, all or nothing, especially for those he’s decided to care about. His captain and his sergeants were in that inner circle, and he cared deeply, implicitly, about them. Health, safety, happiness, and something Simon was especially attuned to was keeping them sated. A man of action and acts of service.

Simon was neither a poet nor a psychologist, so he didn’t spend much time or energy putting definitive terms and conditions on whatever relationship the 141 shared. He cared and he was cared for, it was intimate on all levels, and that’s all that mattered to him.

A bond forged in bombs, bloodshed, and loyalty above all else. Four soldiers at the top of their game, literally battle-hardened (double entendre completely intended). He was content with his little circle.

However, he couldn’t fault the boys for missing something a little softer. Something a little sweeter, something a little more pliant. Hell, Simon wouldn’t mind burying his nose in a neck that didn’t smell like sweat, blood, and gunpowder.

That’s where you came in. Simon’s sharp eyes didn’t miss anything.

He saw how Price’s signature little smile rested on you whenever your explanations turned a little rambling, the look of pride in his eyes when you cracked a hard encryption- he’d called in a favor from Laswell to recruit you after all. How the Captain didn’t scold you when your work outfits were outside the civilian regulations (which was often), not that Price minded the view when you’d drop something and bend over to pick it up in your pretty skirts and heels.

He saw how Gaz would lean over your shoulder, just a hair too close to be friendly, and watch in a little bit of awe as you worked, how the two of you spoke in code (literally) to each other. He would watch Gaz get a little hot in the face with your flirty little quips over comms, voice a little tight as he returned them. How the sergeant would bring you little pastries or coffees on days they were on base, how prided he seemed when your face lit up, and when you’d unexpectedly touch him- grab his hand or bicep with your pretty painted nails? Simon would notice how Kyle would excuse himself to go do something else, sometimes dragging Soap off with him.

And Johnny. He tried not to show it, the Scot was as loyal as they came. A dog, Simon called him often, a mutt when he was being obnoxious. Simon’d noticed Johnny literally sniffing around you, his head following the lingering scent of perfume and shampoo when you passed. He was touchy with you, passing it off as being friendly, hugging you just a bit too tight to feel the squish of your body against his- a kind of softness Simon, Price, and Gaz just couldn’t replicate. It was a sport for him, to get you to blush or stutter.

And, fucking hell, the banter. Your voice, slightly crackly through their headsets, leading and chiding them through missions. Something about the distance or facelessness of it made you bold and teasing. Soap would egg you on over comms, sending you both down teasing explicit rabbit holes, until Price would remind both of you that the brass had access to these audio files, and you’d get shy and go quiet, but not for long. Gaz was fairly smooth with it, not often getting out of hand until you clicked off and he’d adjust his pants and collar mid-op. Something about Price’s authority kept you a bit tamer on him, but sometimes you would slip, and the way you got all shy and apologetic, Price’s chest would puff up a bit, beard twitching with a smirk as he’d ’scold’ you.

Simon’s men wanted you, bad. But none of them were going to be the first to admit it, none of them wanting to be the first to want more. Their loyalty to each other was their greatest value, but it was holding them back this time. But Simon had a plan, all he had to do was plant the seed.

The 141 had holed up in a grungy safehouse to rest and recoup before moving on to the next portion of this assignment. ‘House’ was a bit generous- there was no central heating and it was little more than a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, the living room was basically just the foyer with a pull-out couch that took up the entire floorspace when pulled out. The mission hadn’t gone to shit, but it was proving tedious, and stretching into a longer commitment than they’d planned for. Price was miffed about the time commitment, but it wasn’t anything new, it happened all the time.

Waiting for transpo from Nik and information that you were working on. Even Simon felt the sting of disappointment when you’d told them you’d need them to quit calling, that the data Price requested from you was proving to be a challenge that needed undivided attention. They were bored. Price and Gaz had slipped off somewhere so the Captain could work out some of his irritation, which in turn got Soap huffy and touchy.

Which was why the Scot was sitting, spine curled into Simon’s side, laid across the sofa still in full gear, long legs over the side while Simon simply sat up straight ( "s’too fuckin’ cold f’ this shite", he’d muttered after they’d found the wood for the old fashioned wood stove was both wet and molding, "Body heat it is, fucks sake." ), military-issue tablet using the secure network you and Gaz had set up. Too tired to do much of anything, too mission-wired to truly relax, restless and a little homesick.

Simon wasn’t surprised that it only took two rounds of solitaire before the Scot switched to the browser and started to look through the homepage of a porn website he didn’t recognize. They both knew this strategy, get yourself off a few times and your brain releases enough ‘good’ chemicals that you might be able to get some sleep. Johnny did seem uncharacteristically indecisive, getting quickly squirmy and irritated, as he continuously clicked ’next page’ waiting for something to catch his eyes.

A sniper always sees a good shot when it lines itself up, time to plant the seed.

"Give it ‘ere." Simon gruffed, plucking the tablet out of Johnny’s hands, only smirking at the coarse language Johnny offered in return, though he didn’t attempt to get the tablet back. Waiting curiously and not so patiently for whatever Simon was going to produce, what a good dog. The lieutenant took a couple minutes to find the right seed to plant, using key phrases that produced the results he was looking for.

He let Soap peruse his yieldings. The actresses had some things in common, familiar hair and eye colors, familiar because they shared them with you. And the actors doing such filthy things to them? Well, that was the seed (double entendre not intended) Simon was planting, the bone he was throwing to Johnny, all the actors were Scottish. The sniper knew his shot landed when Soap muttered under his breath, taking the tablet back, hips shifting a bit subconsciously as he scrolled, watching the thumbnails give little snippet previews, "Steamin’ Jesus, Lt…"

"Seen you sniffin’ around our analyst. Pretty bird." Simon shrugged but his eyes were just as fixed on all the thumbnails, girls that looked vaguely like you in all sorts of positions getting rammed on Johnny’s- sorry, the actor’s cock. He saw the look of (Catholic) guilt on the sergeant’s face, swirling with lust and a pretty flush under his stubble, so Simon swooped in with another seed, motioning to a thumbnail where an actress with the same hair as you was moaning, "Bet our bird'd look better, bet she’d sound better."

The guilt was gone, the seed planted and flourishing in the Scot’s brain, Johnny’s lips growing into a wicked grin as he settled on a video, not bothering with headphones or squirreling away in the bathroom. One video turned to three, the two men taking turns chiding and teasing the other, and when his sergeant finally burst, it was your name he called out.

Yes, his plan was going to work beautifully.

___

For a quick two-minute search with the sole purpose of quickly getting Soap off, Simon hadn’t been displeased with his results. Neither had Johnny if the spring in his step and uptick in screen time was any indication. The actresses shared features with you, but he was positive there was a closer match out there. And since he couldn’t exactly ask you, their lass in the chair as Soap called you, he turned to their other tech guru and the next part of his plan. Kyle.

He was a bit more straight-laced than either Simon or Johnny, he’d be harder to convince. Simon didn’t know if he had it in him to debate the morality of purposely seeking out a porn star that was as close as physically possible to you… Or how that might affect the relationship amongst the 141… Ghost wasn’t known for being the moral backbone of the task force, and this wasn’t an issue that could exactly be bullied to be won.

So, when first met with some resistance even if Garrick’s face was flushed and he was shifting in his seat, ("Simon, that’s… I don’t know what but it’s not right. What if she finds out-") he delegated some orders to Johnny.

Simon didn’t know what the Sergeants got up to- that’s a lie, he had a pretty good idea, and he expected a repeat performance later- but when they came back, Kyle’s eyes were still a little glazed and his shoes were on the wrong feet.

"Well?" Simon raised an eyebrow looking up from the rifle he was meticulously cleaning. Johnny was smirking smugly, belt still undone, nudging the other sergeant to remind him to answer their lieutenant. Gaz was nodding wordlessly for a moment, running a hand over his hair, slumping back in front of his military-issue computer, and opening a private browser.

"Yeah… Yeah, mate, I’m on it." Kyle was practically still panting from whatever Johnny had done to/for him. Simon smirked, going back to his rifle, until after a moment when Kyle’s voice was more level, he added his requirement, "If I find her-"

He paused, cheeks heating a bit as he reworded himself a bit, "A look-a-like, I mean, I get to taste her first."

Simon could work with that. 2 down, 1 to go.

____

Lastly, John Price. Saved him for last for a reason, but he was also the easiest. Simon waited until the assignment was on the up and up again. Summit fever to push through and go home had its claws in all of them. He knew it was a good time because, after the last firefight and subsequent march through the woods to a safe zone, all the boys were too tired to fool with each other... much. Price was sitting against a tree, that ridiculous hat of his resting on his propped-up knee, face illuminated by his cigar and the light of his phone.

Wordlessly, Simon crouched beside the captain and held his hand out expectantly for the phone. Price blew his smoke with a quirked brow but was curious to what the sniper had in mind, placing the device in the waiting gloved hand.

"What’re you up to, Simon?" Price inquired suspiciously, lowering his eyes to the light of the screen as it was handed back to him. His blue eyes, older looking than the captain really was, widened for a second before darkening in the low light of the forest, "So this is what the Sergeants’ve been on about, uncanny…"

Price watched the very short prelude, a woman who looked so much like you, wearing something a little racier than you’d wear to the office but as blood rushed elsewhere, Price found the realism didn’t matter much when if he squinted… it was you stripping off a cardigan and letting some sort of authority figure pop the buttons of your blouse before shoving you under a desk with your pretty painted lips wrapping around his- sorry, the actor’s throbbing cock…

Seeing the way John’s expression shifted, Simon smirked under his mask, raising back to his full height and returning to where he’d stashed his gear. His plan was almost complete, they were in the final stretch.

___

Simon was watching over Johnny’s shoulder, his hips occasionally rutting through his clothes into the scot’s back, a video that the sniper had chosen. Soap thought it was really funny that it happened to be from your doppelganger's Halloween playlist, but now was just as entranced watching the tall domineering figure clad in all black and mask absolutely ruin you her. The bed was a perk of finally making it to an actual base, with officer’s barracks, waiting for the official expo back to you home.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groaned, biting Johnny’s shoulder through his mask and the sergeant’s t-shirt, as gloved hands twisted into hair just like yours. It was hard not to insert himself into the fantasy. A knock on the door made him growl, pulling him away from the delicious video and friction that Soap’s weight against him was providing. With more force than really necessary, Simon whipped the door open, only relaxing a little bit when Price was standing there with Gaz, both of them with their strategizing faces on. So, he wasn’t the only one making plans lately.

“See the new video that got posted?” Gaz questioned, looking down to unlock his tablet undoubtedly sharing it over to Johnny’s laptop still playing on Ghost’s bed. Both Lieutenant and Sergeant shook their head no. Johnny clicked on the share notification, releasing a breath that puffed his cheeks and raised his eyebrows as he read the title alone, the video still loading in the base’s less than ideal wifi (the 141’s latest habit undoubtedly eating up most of the bandwidth).

It was your doppelganger’s stage name accompanied by the words Barrack’s Bunny Gets Gang Banged!

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Simon repeated, words almost snarling his jeans chafing him as his cock twitched in his still buttoned jeans.

“We’re having a dinner at mine.” John decided cooly, seemingly unrelated, leaning in the doorframe. His demeanor was its usual casual confidence, but his eyes were dark with the kind of want that spelled disaster for anything that stood between him and his goal. The seeds Simon had planted were growing like invasive weeds, wild and quick, “She’s invited.”

“How’re we playin’ this?” Simon questioned relinquishing the reins to his captain, he was just as much of a soldier as the rest of them, he took orders well, watching as Gaz joined Johnny at the foot of the bed, both Sergeants watching the video together, hands already starting to wander, gear being unbuckled and unsnapped. Price smirked at the sight, adjusting himself through his camo cargos.

“Cooly. Don’t wanna spook th’ sweet thing.” He smiled, mostly to himself making himself comfortable on the tiny futon that had been cramped in Simon’s room as an ‘officer’s luxury’. The captain dwarfed it, and patted the limited space beside him for his lieutenant to join him, “We’ll have ‘er eating out of our hands. And then we’ll have her.”

Price said this with the same easy decisiveness as he’d have busting a terrorist cell, but the curl of his lip, how his legs spread to accommodate the growing erection in pants noted the difference for Simon, his captain nodding towards the Sergeant’s watching the video, their breaths already getting heavy. Kyle’s hands fisting the bed's blankets like he might slip away and Johnny’s hips were already rocking a bit. Price’s smirk grew, eyes flicking to Simon before looking back forward, “You’ve been busy, Simon. Never miss anything, do you?”

It was a mix of praise and teasing that, from his Captain, made Simon’s affirmative grunt a bit lower, something twisting in his gut, like a pet that wanted to be stroked more. Price chuckled deeply, nodding, “Bet that thick head’a yours hasn’t considered why you noticed alluv our infatuations with our little analyst, ‘ave you?”

Simon didn’t respond, watching how Johnny’s eyes lit up much in the same way they did when he was presented a puzzle (bomb) that caught his interest, how he moved Kyle’s hands aside and rewinded the video, once, twice, three times at something your lookalike did that scratched his brain just right. Mutt, Simon thought, waiting for Price to continue, knowing that the captain couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit. He’d expected as much, maybe a vulgar comment or two. He was not expecting a truth bomb that turned him both introspective and horny.

“Only reason you noticed how much we liked ‘er, cause you’re always watching her. You watch her just as much as y'watch any of us, wonder what that might mean?” Price shrugged, one hand working at his belt buckle before motioning for Gaz to turn the volume. The Captain actually laughed at the look in Simon’s eyes that most would miss before nodding back to the video and the Sergeants, “Now, watch the show."

Fucking hell.

Maybe it was that little bite of introspection or the flight home where they fleshed out every last detail of their plan to get you, the real you. (“Gaz and Johnny’ll do the leg work, play up the charm, and Ghost and I’ll work the opposite angle, strong and silent.”). Maybe it was how eagerly excited Soap was or how Ghost spent his extra time scrolling through your Instagram. Maybe it was the two brief interactions with you upon returning to base- how pretty your eyes were looking up at him through your lashes, how good you smelled, the movement of your skirt as Johnny spun you around, how you got jittery under his slightest touch in the briefing room…

By the time he found himself on Price’s couch, he was impatient. Knee bouncing, checking his watch, making Gaz track your location. When you’d been sitting out in your car for more than fifteen minutes, he all but growled, snapping at Soap, “Go get ‘er.”

And when Soap guided you inside, pulling one of those bright smiles out of you with his own jokes, and Gaz was helping you out of your coat like unwrapping a present, your cheeks already flushed all pretty from the Sergeants’ tag team flirting routine… He didn’t think he could wait for Price to put the steaks on the grill, he needed something to sink his teeth into, sooner rather than later. He was sure if he bit the curve of your neck, it’d be a lot like biting into a ripe peach… supple and sweet. Just like you.

Oh, his plan had worked, the seeds were planted and growing and overtaking every other thought in his mind other than making sure him and his boys were sated at dinner tonight, and you were on the menu.

____

To quote Sir Mix-A-Lot, "Little Does she know I'm a nasty DAWG."

Y’all are getting this because my writing app deleted what I had done on Search History pt 2. Reminder- the reader is loosely based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. The physical description is pretty vague, but lots of skirts and heels and makeup are mentioned, and I might have gotten carried away and implied

Once again: thanks to any and all tags and comments, i collect them and they will be buried in my pyramid when I die. seriously, they inspire me to keep going and I screen shot them to show to my friends :))))

Also so sorry if you got tagged twice im bad at taglists!!

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#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #cod mwii x reader #john mctavish x reader #Johnny Soap Mctavish x reader #Soap x reader #soap mctavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Gaz x reader #poly141 xreader #poly!141 x reader #poly!141

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morganbritton132 · 3 months ago

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Eddie posts a Tiktok the day after Steve leaves town without his service dog and captions it: POV: you’re an abandoned dog

The video follows Ozzy as he gets in the car, gets stuck in traffic, gets out of the car, and walks up the front steps to the Buckley residence in Hawkins. Ozzy rings the doorbell himself.

Eddie comments, “Very polite.”

Ozzy bypasses Mrs. Buckley while Eddie gets held up with the same oddball conversation about how he’s the cause of the only divorce in Buckley family history that he has every year.

The video cuts to the living room where Steve is vegged out in front of the TV with Robin’s dad, watching of a recording of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from six years ago. Mr. Buckley is snoozing in his chair while Steve is currently having his face licked by Ozzy.

This is revenge for leaving him behind because Eddie knows that Steve hates him when animals lick him, and Ozzy knows it too. Ozzy is too forgiving and patient with Steve so this is the extent of his revenge.

Eddie, however, is not as forgiving and flicks Steve in the forehead, “Brat.”

“Hey, Rockstar,” Steve grins up at him, erasing away any chance of him believing that Steve ‘forgot’ Ozzy at home. “Missed you.”

Eddie lets himself be pulled closer but only so he can flick Steve in the forehead again, “I’m telling Hopper.”

“Wait, don’t-“

#Sometimes Steve feels smothered having a service dog with him 24/7 and decides they need a break from each other #Does he always tell Eddie this? no #Does he always tell Ozzy? also no #Also important to note:#Steve smoked with Robin and her mom a half hour before Eddie got there #He is stoned #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

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horsefreek151 · 2 years ago

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I have had perfect dogs who are an example of this through my life... ill do this in chronological order Emma, Bernese Mountain Dog, she was from Europe because, for some reason, in the late 90s, my parents couldn't find someone in the US to sell them a dog because we lived in China... as ex-pats. Emma was from beautiful show lines and lived a solid 8 years (a bit over the Berner average). They were bred to work with dairy farmers as an all-around farm dog to do things like: keep cattle away from the farmer when not being milked, move them around, keep the children safe from the cattle, and keep the property safe. They also had the fun job of pulling carts. They are described as placid and calm, aloof toward strangers but loving to their families. This dog was the epitome of her breed, My parents didn't have a farm, but they started with two kids and ended up with four kids in her lifetime. So Emma decided she was going to be a nanny dog. She was amazing. She had endless patience with us kids and loved babies. She would remove herself from a situation if we were being annoyed, and if we played too rough, she would grab our hand or arm with her mouth and hold us till we calmed down. She would watch the babies on their play mats or in their carriers. if they were with my mom elsewhere, she would guard the carrier. If that was in the car, she would guard my mom's shoes or baby bag or something of ours. She would never bite people or other dogs. She would give other dogs warning growls and maybe snap at them and bark if they got too close but never bite. IF people got closer to something she was guarding that she didn't want them she would put herself between the person and the thing (or child) and try to distract them by begging for pets. I have asthma and, until last year, couldn't be around unfamiliar dogs, particularly Golden Retrievers. She HATED goldens. She refused to let them come up to me and would get her most angry towards them. (Emma and my dad)

Trixy, Caucasian Shepherd (Georgian Nagazi), We had her while living in Georgia. Mainly bread for fighting Caucasus mountain BEARS AND WOLVS, protecting the herders and the herder's family and property. There is a legend of one RIPING A WOLF TO PIECES to protect a child. They are known to hate strangers and be fiercely protective and brave. Trixy was not a perfect example of her breed in the stranger aggressive part, mostly because she and her brother (he passed at one year due to a stomach twist) were raised super socially by constantly coming to my parent's school they worked at and were loved on by the whole community. The head guard there loved them so much he adopted Trixy when we moved. They loved everyone and had been trained out of their aggressiveness towards strangers because of all that work we put in in their early days. These guys were friendly. Now how did Trixy fit the mold? Strange dogs.... she wouldn't leave our side if there was another dog around and would bark and growl if they tried to approach. She would also stick close to us kids if we were greeting strangers, and she would always check back on us during hikes to make sure we weren't in danger before running back off. Her number 1 priority was us, and she always wanted to ensure we were ok. She would play with my baby brother, who was a third of her weight, so gently you wouldn't believe she could put her paws easily on my 6'4" (193cm) father. They would alert strangers near the property but wouldn't hurt anyone unless they would try to hurt us (I never had the chance to but knowing her, she would have been just like the legend.) She had the job of keeping the family safe and she did it. (Trixy left, Hayward right)

LAST BUT NOT LEAST, MY CURRENT DOG Universal Healthcare (Uni), Toy Poodle, she's my current dog and my service dog. She's a year and a half, and we've had her a year. Poodles were bred as hunting dogs, the miniature variety was bred to hunt mushrooms and work in circuses, and toys were bred from those to be the perfect companion. They are highly intelligent and sociable and can be protective of their families. Uni was the dog I dreamed of as a kid. Small like a stuffed animal, cute, sweet, friendly, and smart to teach tricks. We got uni at about 5 months because she was too small to breed (she was 5 lb, 2.27 KG last weigh in) and was held back by her breeder to see if she would hit the 10lb (4.54 kg) mark. Being half the size needed she wanted to find her a good home. Her grandmother had been a therapy dog after she retired from breeding so when she heard from a friend that she knew of someone looking for a service dog prospect she was delighted! Uni is a perfect example of the breed and would have rocked the show ring. She's so smart it shocks me at times and had learned how to alert too my panic attacks on her own. She learned left and right on her own from pointing. She knows a handful of fun tricks (like spin) and a load of great ones for my episodes. She does a great job of her service dog duties and has had a rough time because of her size. Larger dogs lunge at her, and she thinks I need to be protected, so she will get between us ( based off of previous large dogs, you know I know how to handle them. I could handle the Nagazi on my own at 13, so I had to yeet her up by her harness and hold her. I've only had to knee one dog in the chest; it's usually enough to give a harsh no or 'F*CK OFF'). She gets grabbed all the time, people screech at her booties (in delight, but it's annoying), and she's had people trip about her. We even had to learn a set of behaviors to avoid distraction, people will greet her without permission, so we have a "say hi" command. She has to sit, then when I say "say hi," she knows she can say hello to these people; I get a chance to explain what she is and how service dogs work, and how she can say hi because we have a command, but don't go to pet a working service dog, and then when I say "all done!" she knows to stop. We usually do a sit and a hand touch and get back to work with no problem. Her only problem is her worry about large dogs (because of previously having them try to eat her) but were working through it, and she has excellent interactions with friends (one a greyhound named Grendle who is mainly just overwhelmed by how much 12-inch [30.48cm] Uni loves him]. She sleeps in bed with us, sometimes wedged between me and my fiance, sometimes on our pillow, sometimes at my feet. She always jumps up the moment I wake up to check in (I have bad nightmares and sleep paralysis) and comes over for a snuggle and to make sure I'm actually awake. She follows me everywhere; she can tell I'm about to have an episode before I do and will let me stim on her to ground. She smells my breath and listens to my heart to tell what's going on, and I have no idea what she knows from it, but she's made me sit down before dizzy spells and fought off oncoming flashbacks before I knew it was happening. She saved my life and ill love her forever for that. (Uni and Bjalfi, our six-month-old kitten, asleep on our laundry. They are best friends)

I think it's so funny how we bred JOBS into dogs. I have two shih tzus and they were bred to be lap dogs. All they care about is looking cute and cuddling with people. Meanwhile my grandma has a border collie and that dog needs to feel so useful all the time, he acts like he will pass away if he doesn't have a job to do constantly

#universal healthcare #uni #dog #service dog #puppy #kitten #cute #education #bernese mountain dog #caucasian shepherd #nagazi #georgian shepherd #good dogs #dog education #breed history #that is their purpose #Serously find your job oriented dog a job #they will live for it #dogs love the grind

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mxmorbidmidnight · 5 months ago

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To the people who see someone with a mobility aid or other accessibility tool and think they can tell if the persons faking, please shut the fuck up. Often these people’s “LOOK THEYRE FAKING” moment is when they see something such a wheelchair stand up or move their leg, they see someone with a cane not using it for a moment or holding it, a deaf person who can speak, a blind person whose eyes don’t “look” blind, someone with a service dog who is not visibly disabled.

The truth is you can’t tell if someone’s faking needing a mobility aid or tool by looking at them, how can you when you don’t know what they use it for?

With my cane some days I rely on it heavily, I use it for every step and cannot walk without it. Some days my body is fully paralysed, numb, weak, fatigued and in pain. However some days I can run and jump and walk just fine. Whenever I’m in public I bring my cane with me for safety, in case I have a sudden issue. If you see me carrying my cane and not using it, that doesn’t mean that I’m faking. If I’m walking through a narrow space and I pick up my cane, that doesn’t mean that I don’t actually need it.

Same goes for any other disability. Tics manifest in different ways, not seeing me tic for a while doesn’t mean I’m faking it. I have tics and not even I could tell if someone’s tics are fake. If I can’t tell then you, a person who knows very little about tics most definitely cannot.

Perhaps you meet autistic person who enjoys social settings or makes eye contact, a person with adhd that seems like they have everything under control, someone with depression who looks “fine”, a person with any neurodivergence who doesn’t act like your mums friends sisters brothers sons hamsters beauticians gynaecologists nephew who also has said diagnosis.

Disabilities affect people in unique ways, you cannot know someone’s experiences and medical history just by looking at them.

Fake claiming is ableism disguised as disability advocacy.

#fake claiming is ableist #cripple punk #disability #disabled activism #disabled rights #cpunk #cripple posting #angry cripple #disabled #autism #morbid midnight #fake claiming #invisible disability #mental illness #neurodivergent #autistic #tourettes syndome #tic disorder

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becausebuckley · 15 days ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 7!

in which i handed in a thesis proposal, caught a cold, and read some lovely fics... it's been a wild week lol

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

baby that's why i fell into you | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.7k | GA

Eddie has amnesia, Buck struggles. genuinely one of the best love confessions i've read in ages <3 this had me smiling so much!!

call me what you will | ameliahart | 5.9k | E

A continuation of 8x06 where Buck pouts, Eddie feels joy, and they fuck about it. genuinely i will eat up any and all post-8x06 fics and this is no exception... love the eddie characterisation here!!

faded from the winter | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 9.9k | T

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry. cranberry fic!! i love this series so so much <3 especially love the eddiemaddie friendship in this one!

golden morning sunbeams | Buddiesmutslut/@buddiesmutslut | 10.3k | GA

As Eddie is debating his move to Texas, a few texts from his son in the middle of the day set him on a course to getting everything he's been wanting. such a fascinating look at the whole chris in texas/helena and ramon doing whatever the fuck it is that they're doing plot! so good!! and buck here is just <3

hopeless, breathless, burning slow | mostardent/@laracrofted | 14.9k | M

After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. there's some gorgeous gorgeous imagery in this one <3 one of the best post-coma fics ever!!

let me give you my life | paleredheadinascifi | 6.4k | T

another take on what happened after the couch scene. Eddie *wants*. They're both brave about it. they're so brave about it <3 wonderful fic!!

slaughterhouse | kithmet/@kithmet | 21.3k | E

Eddie announces he’s leaving. Buck, naturally, begins a slow descent to madness. such a stunning fic it genuinely left me speechless... the most beautiful codependent freak4freak buddie <3 an immediate bookmark for sure!!

take two falls out of three | doitgently/@doitbuckley | 16.3k | M

Eddie tries to go to Texas. What do you get when you cross a man and an eighteen-wheeler truck? such a fantastic look at chris and eddie's relationship <3 beautiful writing!!

the moon like a spotlight | dykeries/@buddiesbian | 4.7k | E

Three months after Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck comes to visit. this is sappy and soft and also funny (the starnaming!!) and just so very perfect <3

the rainbows we chase | timeshareindestin/@timeshareindestin | 5.8k | M

buck accidentally makes an appointment for their first kiss. the proposals!! i love the proposals!! love is stored in the calendar indeed <3 so so good!

too far from the sun | idiotsinkdaisies/@idiotsinkdaisies | 9k | M

Where Eddie Diaz spends time in El Paso, and handles it fine. Buck is back in Los Angeles, and Eddie does not feel the hundreds of miles between them like a physical ache. (He might be lying to himself.) blanket rec for an author whose work i've been LOVING this week!! this one has the most stunning writting and eddie characterisation and i love it so much <3

u/fuckley's reddit post history. | dylaesthetics | 7.9k | M

the emotional rollercoaster of Buck’s Reddit posts throughout the history of knowing Eddie. this is such a brilliantly formatted fic!! i read this on a cold dark bus back home and it was exactly what i needed <3

what if all i need is you | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 3k | GA

“Eddie doesn’t even like men,” Buck says with a frown. “I asked.” “Of course you did,” Chim says, dropping his head into his hand with a murmured whisper of *Jesus Christ*. another blanket rec for an author who's been posting some truly brilliant works <3 this one is soft and fun and has such lovely firefam interactions!!

with a little water and a little bit of sunlight | teaspoonmoon/@young-waverer | 4.7k | T

The one where it's not Homes.com but it's also not porn on the iPad. such a lovely alternate ipad-scene <3 so sweet!! i love the dialogue here especially!

#apologies if there are wrong links or typos or whatever in this one #i have the head cold to kill all head colds #not a fun time #please lmk if you find any errors though so i can fix them!#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle’s recs #fic rec list

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cressidagrey · 5 days ago

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The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 11

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes:

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie barely had time to take in the Quadrant studio before a guy launched himself across the room like he was personally greeting a royal dignitary.

“Oh my god, you actually brought her,” he gushed, stopping just short of throwing himself at Mara’s paws. “Lando never lets us meet his friends—”

Lando sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes as he led Lizzie inside. "Because you're all lunatics."

The man grinned, unfazed by Lando's comment. "Yeah, but we're your lunatics.”

Max Fewtrell, already grinning, lifted his phone. “Right, formal introduction time. Lizzie, welcome to Quadrant chaos. You already know me—”

“Tragically,” Lando mumbled.

“—but this is Ethan, who thinks he runs things, Ria, who actually runs things, and Steve, the only adult in the room.”

Lizzie grinned. “Nice to finally meet you all.”

“Oh, we’re making this official,” Ria said, practically vibrating as she rummaged through a box on the table.

Lando groaned. “I already hate this.”

Ethan smirked. “Oh, you will.”

With a dramatic flourish, Ria pulled out a small fabric bundle and unfolded it.

Lizzie blinked.

It was a Quadrant dog bandana. Black with neon streaks, the brand’s logo stitched neatly in the corner.

“You made her merch?” Lizzie asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

Lando let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, listen. I can’t be seen walking a dog wearing Ferrari merch—”

"You could just walk her," Max chimed in.

"Shut up. Anyway.” Lando picked up the bandana. “And I highly doubt Lizzie would let me put McLaren papaya on her—”

“Not happening,” Lizzie confirmed.

“So this is a compromise.” Lando gestured at the bandana like it was the only logical solution. "I thought she’d want a little Quadrant flair too.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone seemed to process his logic.

Then, everyone started laughing. Loudly.

"Oh my god." Ethan shook his head, grinning. "Lando Norris, dog-walking fashion expert. Who would have thought?”

Max snorted. “Honestly, I get it. The internet would never let you live it down.”

Lando shot him a look. "Exactly. Have you checked Twitter lately? They already think I'm the biggest Ferrari fan in the history of ever. I don't need to give them any more ammunition."

Everyone else laughed harder. Ria was trying to catch her breath. "Oh my god, Lando, you're such a drama queen."

Steve, the supposed only adult in the room, was the only one who didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied the bandana with a considering expression. “Honestly, it is a good look. The orange would have clashed with her coat anyway.”

That set off another round of laughter, but Lando looked oddly appeased by Steve’s assessment.

Max clapped his hands together, grinning. “Right, Mara needs to try it on. Lando. Do your thing.”

Lando rolled his eyes, yet he knelt next to Mara. The Labrador seemed to realize this was important, because she sat perfectly still, her eyes trained on the bandana.

Lando wrapped the bandana around her neck, adjusting it until it fit snugly.

“There we go. She’s a Quadrant girl now,” he said, ruffling Mara’s ears.

Lizzie crouched beside her.

“What do you think, girl?” she asked. “You like it?”

Mara gave a single wag of her tail.

“Oh, that’s a yes,” Ria confirmed, nodding sagely.

“100%,” Max agreed.

Lando stood, hands on his hips. "Of course she likes it. I have good taste."

Lizzie suppressed a smirk, trying (and failing) to hide her amusement at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

"And he's modest too," she joked.

Lando shot her a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Hey, I'm just stating facts."

Max snickered. "Lando Norris, humble as always."

"You all just wish you were as humble as I am," Lando shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ethan gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know. It's tragic really. If only we could be as modest as the great Lando 'I'm a better driver than everyone in this room' Norris."

Lando flicked him off in response.

"So, this is where the magic is gonna happen?" Lizzie asked curiously, staring around the warehouse. "It looks..."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Max suggested drily. "It's for the aesthetic of the photoshoot."

"And what is that aesthetic?" Lizzie asked. "Where to dump a body?"

Lando shot her an amused glance. "Dark, edgy, abandoned industrial-chic, I think."

"Yeah, it's our 'we're really cool and don't care' vibe," Ethan chimed in.

Ria nodded. "And it's cheaper than renting out an actual studio."

"Not to mention we have the freedom to set everything up exactly the way we want," Steve added.

"You know...for the vibe," Max said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

"I think the aesthetic choice is very 'Lando','" Lizzie mused, eyeing Lando, who looked offended.

"What does that mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm..." Lizzie tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. "Rich, edgy, slightly obnoxious..."

"I am none of those things," Lando protested.

Lizzie stared at him. "Lando, you literally bought a Range Rover on a whim. Now you are sitting here, in front of the dog, whose bandana you had custom designed as we debate the 'aesthetic' of your photoshoot in a warehouse."

Max snickered, while Ria and Ethan tried to hide their smiles.

Lando huffed. "Fine, I see your point. But it's still a cool aesthetic."

"It's definitely unique," Lizzie conceded.

Max's grin widened as he turned to Mara, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange. "And what do you think, Mara? Do you think Lando has a cool aesthetic?"

The Labrador simply sat there, with her tongue lolling out, blissfully unaware of the debate about Lando's cool factor.

Lizzie smiled. "I think that's a solid 'yes' in dog language."

"Alright, alright. Enough making fun of me," Lando complained, though he didn't look particularly bothered.

Steve, who'd been watching the whole exchange, finally spoke up.

"You know, I have to say, this is already more fun than most photoshoots."

Granted, Lizzie had managed to get through her life with literally only three photoshoots unless one counted random selfies with fans, so she tended to agree.

It was quite fun that she got to watch the whole thing go down though, shooting Lando's newest merch collection, while Mara happily took a nap on her feet. It was...interesting to see this side of him.

Lando, as it turned out, had a knack for modeling. He effortlessly fell into different poses, morphing from nonchalant cool to charming casual without breaking a sweat. Lizzie couldn't help but admire him.

Ethan, as the photographer, seemed to be having the time of his life. He directed the shoot with enthusiasm, barking instructions like the self-proclaimed art director. "Okay, Lando, give me intense stare. Yeah, that's it. Now, throw in some smolder."

Max, playing the role of the hype man, didn't hesitate to boost up Lando's ego. "Damn, mate. You were made for this. When are you gonna ditch racing and become a professional model?"

"Never," Lando shot back, without even pausing in his poses. "I have too much dignity for that."

"Dignity? You?" Max laughed. "That ship sailed years ago."

"Oh, shut up," Lando retorted, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

Lizzie watched all of this with amusement, her eyes fixated on Lando as he moved in front of the camera.

He was a different person in front of the lens.

Confident, charismatic, almost...intoxicating.

It was easy to lose herself in the view, especially as his gaze frequently met hers, his smug smirk sending tingles down her spine.

God, he was handsome.

After what felt like hours, the shoot was over.

The lights were shut off, the equipment packed away, and the warehouse slowly returned from a makeshift photoshoot studio back to an abandoned warehouse.

Lando, as if waking from a trance, wandered over to Lizzie, his gaze roaming over her in a way that she could only describe as hungry.

"You’re staring," Lizzie pointed out, fighting down a shiver as his gaze continued to linger on her.

Lando gave her a lazy smile, not bothering to look away. "Can you blame me?"

Lizzie’s heart did a little flip, her cheeks warming under his gaze. She was still getting used to this — the casual intimacy between them, the easy banter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

She could hear the others packing up and chattering in the background, their voices a soft, background hum. But right now, her attention was laser-focused on Lando, his eyes still holding hers captive.

"We need to get going," she said, kinda hating herself fo having to say that. "Tasha will kill me if I am late to my own reading."

Lando nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her.

“Right, right. Can’t have Tasha coming after you with a pitchfork,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intense look.

She gave him a smile, but she promised herself that tonight…tonight she was going to take advantage of that massive bed in their hotel room.

***

"We banned all flash photography and we'll had somebody tell them to just ignore Mara multiple times," Tasha said seriously.

Lando hadn't known that Lizzies best friend slash pseudo-sister also had the role as personal assistant slash point of contact for everybody that was involved in Lizzie's actual job...but he had learned that over the last few weeks.

Lando leaned back in his seat, watching Tasha as she talked. She was a force to be reckoned with, that much was obvious. He couldn't help but respect her dedication to making sure everything ran smoothly.

And he was also very glad that Lizzie had somebody with her at all times that knew the ins and outs of her epilepsy better than anybody else.

Tasha was a godsend, both a best friend and a safety net for Lizzie.

As Tasha continued briefing them on the night's schedule, Lando let his gaze drift to Lizzie, who was listening intently to her friend.

She was an absolute star to look at as always, but there was something different about tonight. There was a spark in her eyes, a hint of excitement, and a faint smile on her lips he really liked.

Lando was not the type to sit and listen to people gushing over books for hours, but given the way Lizzie looked, he was sure he could put up with it...

He had been to his fair share of movie premieres and gallery openings, but those were easy. He took a few pictures, flashed a charming smile...he was the center of attention.

But tonight…Lando Norris was completely ignored. Because he was uninteresting.

Elizabeth Treshton was the star.

Lando Norris got to sit backstage and follow along from the shadows.

And quite frankly, he found the whole experience fascinating, just because he got to see Lizzie's world.

The world of books, of words and imagination. It was utterly foreign to him, and yet he couldn't help but find it fascinating...especially with Lizzie in the middle of it.

She was the star here. She was the one people wanted to see. The world she had created, the characters that had been born out of her words on a page...millions of people had read these words.

And they loved them.

Lando found, to his surprise, that he couldn't take his eyes off her as she walked on stage, as she read a few pages, as the hall clapped, and as she answered the first few questions. It wasn't even about the words anymore, it was about the way she talked, about the way her eyes shined. About the way she was fully in her element.

He wasn't looking at a different woman...but he was looking at a facet of hers...that he hadn't yet gotten to completely see.

And he found himself wondering how many there were. How many layers he still had to uncover, how many things he still needed to discover.

He was a race car driver, speed and competition were his domain. He was living the life he'd always wanted.

But sitting here in this venue, watching Lizzie take the stage and make an audience of strangers hang onto her every word like the last light in a dark cave...he knew he was only scratching the surface here.

The rest of the reading, the Q&A and the signing went by in a bit of a blur. He was too busy watching Lizzie and the way her face lit up when fans came up to her and told her how her writing had moved or inspired them. And when she was finally finished, making her way towards him with a tired smile on her face, he couldn't help but reach out and grab her by the hand to pull her closer.

Her steps faltered for a second as he pulled her closer, but when she looked at him, her expression melted into a soft, tired smile. "You held out pretty well," she teased lightly.

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had a pretty good view to keep me entertained," he replied, his gaze drifting over her face with an intensity that belied his casual tone.

"Oh? And what exactly was so entertaining about the view?" Lizzie asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes despite her obvious tiredness.

Lando's smile widened into a lazy smirk. "Just taking in the show, Miss Treshton," he said, his thumb tracing circles against her wrist. "You were quite the spectacle up there."

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. "Spectacle, huh? Are you just trying to butter me up, Mr. Norris?"

"You are incredible, you know that?" he told her seriously.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"And not just tonight," he continued, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. "You've built a whole world with your words, Lizzie. And you've got millions of people wrapped around your little finger, myself included.”

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tinkerbelldetective · 1 month ago

Note

Liberty!! What a cutie!

Thank you!

Hello!

Maybe to get our minds off this mess, do you have any fun pictures or lesser-known stories about the White House Pets and First Dogs (or Second Dogs. Champ FTW)?

Thank you!

I'm a big fan of President Ford's golden retriever, Liberty.

Here's an excerpt from a page about Liberty on the White House Historical Association's website, which tells you a lot about her and President Ford:

"Liberty quickly settled into life at the White House. She was often photographed outside, enjoying the South Lawn on sunny days. Liberty also enjoyed swimming in the pool at Camp David. At times, President Ford, allegedly used Liberty as a diversionary tactic in the Oval Office. When he wanted a meeting to end, he would signal to Liberty, who wagged her tail enthusiastically at the guest. This created a conversational break so the President could stand up, indicating the meeting had come to its conclusion. Liberty was part of the family at the White House, with President Ford frequently assisting with her care. At Ford's funeral in 2007, former White House Press Secretary David Nessen recalled that one day, Liberty 'made a mess' on the carpet in the Oval Office. A Navy steward started to clean it up, but President Ford stopped him, remarking that, 'no man should have to clean up after another man's dog.'"

That leads to a classic story about President Ford and a very pregnant Liberty getting locked out of the White House Residence in the middle of the night when the President took her outside to go to the bathroom. The Secret Service had to let him back inside.

#President Ford and Liberty got locked out of the Residence and had to be let back in by the Secret Service. dudkcdu #Presidents #Presidential History #Gerald Ford #Liberty Ford #U.S. History #Liberty sunbathing on the lawn. Luxury for a dog bless

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ragingbookdragon · 2 months ago

Text

To Die For A Friend Is An Honor

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Okay, so I changed the reason a little bit but I like this more :D

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

Post-mission, the celebration at Hard Deck was off the wall. Beer and food flowed as conversation and cheer erupted at every table. The team was gathered at the back pool tables, drinking, and enjoying each other’s company, for once, no one was sniping at each other. Even Hangman and Rooster were leaning off one another, joking and laughing. Phoenix sat next to Bob at the table beside the pool game, quietly chatting when Bob’s gaze flickered around, taking in the sight before he stopped on someone coming in.

His eyes widened and he patted Phoenix’s arm. “Natasha,” he said, and she frowned, pulling her arm back.

“What? What?”

He nodded to the woman in a wheelchair talking to a pilot who was pointing towards their group. “It’s her. It’s Hangman’s wingman.”

Phoenix looked in her direction, her own eyes widening. “Ja—Hangm—dude,” she called out and Hangman looked at her.

“What?”

She nodded behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder in a disinterested fashion until he saw her wheeling over, and his eyes went wide, jaw going slack as she stopped in front of the steps leading down to the pool table.

“Pretty girl?” he breathed, arm falling from Rooster’s shoulder as shock coursed through him.

“Hey you,” she smiled. “Congratulations on another confirmed.”

Jake walked on shaky legs to her and bent over, pulling her into a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” he breathed, and she recognized the way his voice held unshed tears.

She wrapped her arms around his back and patted it. “Vice Admiral Simpson called me and let me know when you’d all be having this fun little shindig.” As he pulled back, she looked at him. “I figured I’d come and see you.”

He was quick to wipe his eyes, taking her hand; he squeezed it tight. “It means a lot that you came,” he murmured.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jake,” she said softly, and Bob walked over, looking nervous but excited.

“It is such an honor to meet you,” he said almost enamored, and she smiled, holding out her right hand.

“The honor’s mine…?”

“Bob, Bob Floyd,” he answered and shook her hand. “I was on sea duty when you got your medal. We all watched it on the TV in the wardroom.”

“Then my reputation precedes me,” she smiled, and the others walked over.

“What medal?” Coyote asked and Bob huffed.

“Only the greatest achievement you can get for exemplary service!”

All their eyes widened, and Rooster looked over Hangman’s shoulder. “You got a Medal of Honor?”

“I did,” she answered. “For service above and beyond the call of duty while defending a fellow airman in combat.”

Hangman went quiet at the mention, but the others dragged tables and chairs up to her wheelchair to hear the story and she laughed lightly as they did. After they ordered her a beer and some food, she sat there and began telling them the story of her and Hangman’s flying history.

“Jake and I actually went to flight school together. We were neck and neck during all drills and exercises, just always trying to top dog the other. When we graduated, we actually got commissioned in the same squadron on the same ship. Our Lieutenant made us wingmen, but that rivalry never stopped even when we grew closer.”

Fanboy leaned up. “How’d you get paralyzed?” he asked, and the others whacked at him and tossed fries his way; even Hangman glared at him. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s okay,” she smiled softly, and looked at Hangman. “You okay if I tell?”

He nodded quietly and murmured, “It’s your story to tell…not mine.”

She patted his leg beneath the table. “We were doing routine flybys in the Gulf of Oman. Jake took behind me in formation as I had just been promoted to LTJG and maintained rank above. We’d been doing flybys for almost a week without an issue. We got…complacent,” she said. “We didn’t think the enemy had SAMs.”

She took a sip of her beer. “Jake’s radar pinged incoming first, then mine.” She went quiet, thinking for a moment. “I didn’t think, I just acted. Hit my brakes, went high, let Jake fly under me.” A chill settled among everyone. “I remember pulling the ejection handle just as one hit me. It was so hot. So loud.” She shook her head. “The next thing I remember was hitting the water and then I was waking up in sickbay on a bed.”

“And you got paralyzed?” Fanboy asked.

Another round of fries flew his way.

“I don’t remember if I pulled my chute late or if I did at all, but when I hit the water, it was like hitting concrete. The force shifted through the water, to the seat, into my legs and crushed my pelvis and spinal cord. I’m actually lucky I didn’t end up quadriplegic from the crash.”

She took another sip of her beer. “Once I was out of sickbay and back onto land, they had me in rigorous PT to build back strength. Of course, my Naval career was done. I was medically discharged, with honor, but I was still let go. It was a few months after that, that I was contacted by SECNAV and White House rep and told that I was being awarded the Medal of Honor. And the rest is history.”

She smiled at everyone, and Rooster looked at her. “Would you do it again?” he asked. “If you knew you’d die?”

His words caused silence, and she met his gaze, a firm, but respectable look on her face. “To die in service of country is our duty. To die in service of a friend? That’s honor,” she answered, then looked at Jake. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Everyone sat impressed and humbled by her words, and she smiled. “Now, you have got to tell me about this mission! Jake hasn’t told me anything, and of course I understand complete secrecy, but I won’t tell a soul.”

***

He locked her wheelchair in place, smiling when she swatted his hands and pulled herself into the bed. “I can do it myself,” she sniped. “I’ve only been doing it for years.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you into bed. Isn’t it sexy for a man to carry a woman to bed?”

“Mmm, there’s not enough rose petals or wine for that,” she teased, and he smiled as he watched her get comfortable, pulling the covers up over her.

She patted the bedside, and he kicked off his shoes and socks before he striped to his boxers and crawled in beside her. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she closed her eyes as peace settled between them.

“I missed this,” she said softly. “It’s been a long time since we did this.”

“About a year,” he murmured, laying on his back, head turned in the side of the pillow to look at her. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did,” she answered. “Your buddies are a good group.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

“Sometimes. Working with veterans, it’s not exactly like it was in the Navy, but there’s still that camaraderie there. If anything, I miss the absolute structure I had. Without it, I had to make my own schedule and that shit sucks.”

He smiled, looking at her; she appeared so peaceful with her eyes closed. Jake reached over, laying a hand on her lower stomach, thumb gently brushing over the blanket.

There was something about being in her presence that broke him down to more than just a cocky pilot.

It broke him down to a man.

“What you said at the bar…” he said softly. “Did you mean it?”

“Which part?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“That you’d do it again if it meant you’d die for me.”

“I did.”

When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes and turned her head, expression falling when she saw half of his face not covered by the pillow, tears in his eye.

“Jake…”

“I’m not worth dying for,” he choked out. “God, I’m not worth your life.”

She shifted onto her side, gently laying her arm on his chest, hand cupping his cheek as she thumbed his tears. “Oh, honey,” she murmured.

He shut his eyes amidst the torrent of emotions flaring in his chest. “Don’t die for me, God, please don’t die for me.”

“Jake…”

“I can’t lose you, pretty girl. I can’t.”

“Jake,” she said again, stroking his cheek. “Honey, look at me.”

He opened his eyes, lashes slick with tears, lips pursed to keep from wobbling.

“I made that choice that day to protect you. Not as your commanding officer. But as your friend.” She searched his gaze, her own firm. “I wasn’t scared. I knew if I died, I’d be giving my life for my friend. For my best friend. And I didn’t regret it. Honey, I will never regret that choice. And I will always put the lives of the people I care about above my own. Then, and now.”

Jake looked at her. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

She smiled tiredly. “Well, unless they make a jet that paralyzed people can fly, I won’t be doing it anytime soon.” She wiped his eye again. “Now stop crying, you’re too handsome to cry like this.”

He moved his hand from her stomach to take hers in it, gently pressing his lips to her palm. “I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you, Jake,” she smiled and poked his nose. “Hey, float like a butterfly?”

“Sting like a bee,” he answered softly, smiling at her. “Command gave us two weeks before we return to posts. Do you wanna spend it with me?”

“Of course,” she said. “Whatever else would I do in Nevada?”

“Wanna go to Vegas?”

“Hell yes.”

He kissed her wrist and laced their fingers, laying their conjoined hands on the pillow between their heads; she reached up with her other and turned out the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, Jake,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, pretty girl.”

Jake waited until her breathing evened out in the night before he shut his eyes, pulling their hands closer to him as he drifted off into sleep.

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