#mix note counting machine price

[python333]

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!

anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?

that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌

unwind — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

word count 3.6k

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.

note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining. 

You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water. 

As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.

You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid. 

You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.

Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge. 

Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.

You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office. 

After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud. 

Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!” 

You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands. 

“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response. 

“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.” 

“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.” 

You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap. 

Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did. 

He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast. 

He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso. 

Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today. 

Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter. 

You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine. 

You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.

You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir. 

As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.

You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine. 

You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it. 

You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.

You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.

You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something? 

You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there. 

Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does. 

He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did. 

He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?” 

“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.” 

“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.” 

“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”

“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”

“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms. 

“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.” 

“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.” 

Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.” 

“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost. 

Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.

From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this. 

You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it. 

Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg. 

You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this. 

You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it. 

You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.

You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall. 

You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on. 

You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.

You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has. 

Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes. 

The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle. 

Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink. 

You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed. 

You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit. 

You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it. 

Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in. 

Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?” 

“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.” 

You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion. 

“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?” 

“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug. 

“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?” 

“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.” 

“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”

“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms. 

You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost. 

“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.” 

You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.” 

You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar. 

You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee. 

Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!” 

You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap. 

“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?” 

“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.” 

Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white. 

“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.” 

“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact. 

“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee. 

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.” 

“Your favorite what?” 

“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.” 

“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.” 

“I can just taste the love in it.” 

“Not the coffee machine?”

“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee. 

“Not if it’s the one I used.” 

“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh. 

“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

[itacats]

Part 9 - Still Here

FT: Price x Reader (Detective AU)

Warnings: Mentions of poisoning, hospital settings, trauma recovery, and emotional vulnerability.

Word Count: ~1,500 words.

Summary: After waking from a near-death experience caused by betrayal, you find yourself on the long road to recovery. Price is by your side, his walls down, his care unwavering. As you unravel the truth behind the betrayal, a deeper connection between you and Price emerges—built on trust, quiet moments, and the strength to heal together.

Author's Note: Hey, lovelies! 🩹✨ This one’s a bit heavy, but it’s all about the soft moments and finding light in the dark. Writing this made me want to hug my pillow—Price deserves all the love, right? Hope you enjoy this angsty-yet-tender journey! Let me know what you think! 💖🎭

Love Kills Masterlist

The first thing you notice is the haze���the world is blurred, like looking through frosted glass, every shape and color bleeding together into indistinct forms. The faint hum of machines fills your ears, a constant, unrelenting rhythm that feels both distant and all-encompassing. Slowly, your senses begin to sharpen, and you realize you're in a hospital room: the pale walls, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the sharp sting of an IV in your arm. The beeping of monitors is steady, but it doesn't bring comfort. It is merely a reminder that you're still here.

It takes a few moments for your mind to fully catch up with reality, but then—then you see him. Price.

He’s sitting by your bed, hunched over in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair. His posture is tense, a man caught between exhaustion and something darker—something you can’t quite place. His usual sharpness is dulled, his carefully composed demeanor shattered. Instead, he looks like he’s been running on fumes for far too long. His shirt is rumpled, his stubble unshaven, and his eyes bloodshot, as if he’s been fighting some invisible battle within himself.

You blink, trying to summon the strength to speak, and your breath catches. Your whisper, faint and raspy, finally draws his attention.

"Price…"

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression a mix of shock, relief, and something deeper—something raw. Then, as if he can’t quite believe it, he’s on his feet in an instant, leaning over you, his hands hovering just above you as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he touches you.

"You’re—" His voice catches in his throat, and he clears it with a shaky breath. "You’re awake."

His tone cracks in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s unguarded, stripped bare of the cool professionalism that usually surrounds him. He’s just a man, desperate and relieved, and in that moment, you feel the weight of everything he’s been carrying.

The sight of him—an untamed beard creeping up his face, the sound of his voice—worn and tired, it all rushes through you. Your throat aches as you try to speak again.

"How long…?" Your voice is hoarse, every word a struggle.

Price’s face tightens, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he gently holds a cup of water to your lips. "Don’t," he says softly, his voice low but firm. "Don’t push yourself."

You take a slow sip, the cool water easing the dryness in your throat. It helps, but the effort leaves you exhausted. You force your gaze to meet his, your head spinning with the questions that have been burning in your mind.

"What happened?"

His jaw tightens as he stares at you for a moment, the weight of everything still heavy in his eyes. He seems to be searching for the right words, his fingers tightening around the edge of the chair.

"A lot," he says, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "Liam—he poisoned you�� again. It… it almost killed you. But you’re safe now."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring fragmented memories—the poisoned lunch, the hospital, the darkness that had swallowed you whole. The fear that gripped your chest in those moments is still fresh in your mind, but you’re here, awake, and that’s what matters.

"Tell me everything," you rasp, frustration lacing your tone as you struggle to sit up a little higher, your body aching in protest.

Price doesn’t hesitate. He moves the chair closer, his face hardening, though his eyes remain soft, vulnerable. Over the next hour, he unravels the story—Liam’s double life, his connection to the crimes you’d been investigating, the way he had orchestrated everything to keep you quiet, to destroy you.

"He was involved in everything," Price continues, his voice even, but the weight of the words presses down on both of you. "I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve trusted you. You were right all along—about him, about the connections. I… I should’ve listened."

You stare at him in disbelief, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in your mind. The man you thought you knew—the one you once trusted—had been at the center of the very web you’d been trying to uncover.

"Price…" You exhale slowly, your voice a little steadier now, though the sting of betrayal is still fresh. "You don’t have to—"

"I do." His voice cuts through the air, firm and resolute. "I need you to know that I’m sorry. For not seeing it sooner. For not protecting you."

His words, raw and sincere, break through the walls you’d built around your heart. You meet his gaze, the depth of his regret reflected in the pain behind his eyes.

"You were there," you reply quietly, your words heavy with meaning. "When it mattered most, you were there."

The days that follow are a blur of pain, exhaustion, and slow recovery. Your body begins to heal, but the emotional scars linger, creeping into your thoughts when you least expect it. Price is there every step of the way, a constant presence by your side. He balances the demands of his work with visits to your hospital room, bringing you updates on the trial, books to pass the time, and even your favorite takeout when you’re well enough to eat.

His care isn’t flashy or dramatic—it’s steady, unwavering, like the quiet beat of a drum. He’s there when you struggle with physical therapy, offering quiet encouragement, his voice low and comforting as you push yourself through the pain.

When the weight of it all feels unbearable, when the darkness threatens to creep back in, Price sits beside you in silence, his presence enough to ease the storm in your chest. His hand on yours, his eyes steady as he watches over you, as if he’s afraid to leave your side.

And somewhere, in those shared moments of silence and support, something shifts.

You start to notice the way he looks at you—how his eyes soften when they meet yours, how his voice deepens when he speaks your name. He’s always been dependable, a steady force in your life, but now, you see the depth of his care—the way he carries the guilt of your injury as though it’s his burden to bear, the way his heart beats with a quiet, constant worry for you.

At first, you dismiss the warmth blooming in your chest as gratitude, a response to the care and attention he’s given you. But as your strength returns, as the days pass and the moments between you grow quieter, more intimate, it becomes harder to ignore the way your pulse quickens when he’s near, the way your heart feels like it’s beating for him.

One evening, the golden light of the setting sun spills into the room, casting everything in a warm, gentle glow. You catch Price gazing at you from across the room, his expression unguarded, his gaze soft but intense.

"What?" you ask, a light teasing note in your voice, though your heart is beating a little faster than usual.

He hesitates, caught off guard by your question. For a moment, his eyes shift away, but then he meets your gaze again, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face.

"Just…" He swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. "Just glad you’re still here."

The weight of his words settles over you, and for the first time, you allow yourself to truly feel the depth of his presence in your life.

"I’m glad too," you reply softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

As the days turn into weeks, your recovery becomes a shared journey. The connection between you and Price deepens, forged in the crucible of trauma, strengthened by the quiet, unspoken support you’ve offered each other. What began as a partnership, born of necessity and driven by duty, has become something more. Something you’re no longer so eager to push away.

And when you wake each morning to find him sitting by your side, watching over you with quiet intensity, you realize that this bond—this fragile, growing connection—is something neither of you can deny any longer.

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Posting Schedule Update

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Halloween day 12: House arrest- Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, little makeout session, mentions of alcohol and being under house arrest

Type: Blurp

Request: N/A

Word Count:

Prompt: Scott is under house arrest, so Y/N spends Halloween with him at home.

Notes: I’m fucking trying here.

Scott was making the best out of his situation, he managed a deal to be placed under house arrest for a few years due to his alliance with Captain America.

Due to his predicament, it made sense for you to crash a little longer than a few weekends. You could help him with the “outside world” and you got a reason to snuggle up to him every night. The price to pay was just to have the government keep an eye on you a little more often, or so they said.

Most of it seemed like a small price to pay to spend time with Scott. He was creative of course, especially with his daughter’s play dates.

Halloween was no exception, thankfully with the ease of placing orders to deliver to your doorstep, you were never really short of anything.

There were a few decorations to be added to the already existing collection of Halloween decor. This was always your favorite part, it seemed like you and Scott had all the time in the world to make sure it was perfect.

You both even managed to make a haunted house for Cassie, switching it up every weekend she came to visit.

“It’s almost like you’re a ghost that can’t leave this place”

Scott looked up pausing his movement of the batter. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it” he joked back, his smile appearing again on his face.

He was doing the best he could with what he had, for both of you. The faint sound of 80’s Halloween music played in the distance.

As the sun went down, the neon orange lights reflected more in contrast of the darkness beaming through the windows.

You both decided to bake some Halloween cookies, make some spooky drinks and set up the fog machine. You mentioned you’ve always wanted to go to a Halloween party since you were a teenager and since Scott can’t take you to one, he sure can bring you one.

The 60 inch TV flashed in greyscale as you prepared the celebratory cocktails.

Scott closed the oven after sticking the tray of cookies inside to bake. You greeted him with a glass of bubbly red liquid, your smile shining against the orange lights.

“What?” Your smile soon turned shy, eyes looking away when he got closer to you. He took a sip before setting the glass down on the counter.

With a downturned smile, he shook his head, walking over to you. Scott’s arm wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him, pressing his lips against your forehead. Your body pressed against his, you relaxed against him, feeling his hand rub against your side, you looked up to face his dorky smile.

The sound of the muffled screams from the TV made you both smile at the silence. He looked so beautiful, if he had a tail he’d for sure be wagging it.

It wasn’t uncommon for Scott to kiss your head, every time he did it felt like he had the world in his hands.

“Can we stay up?” You pleaded with big eyes looking up at him. How could he ever say no to you?

“We always do.” He admitted trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrows knit together in response. “But it’s Halloween, it’s different.” You protested, head dropping down to look at his stomach.

“You know what, you’re right. Absolutely. First one to fall asleep has to clean the kitchen” he teased, hands treading down to your hands. He picked them up in his and kissed your knuckles.

“Thank god, I was starting to get tired of being the one to clean”

The rest of the night was fulfilled with Halloween cookies, popcorn mixed with all kinds of candy, chips, Halloween candy, soda, beer and alcohol. It was like you two were high schoolers all over again.

You’ve never felt comfortable enough to drink the way you did with Scott, feeling safe enough to let loose was quite the experience. He even taught you how to play beer pong, which didn’t take you long to learn.

Seeing you plunged into the couch with a pumpkin blanket hugging your figure, eyes glazed with joy and slightly too much alcohol, Scott couldn’t be more in love with you.

The sound and reflection of the classic horror movie on the screen brought out your best features. How was that possible? Your eyeliner was smeared, your cheeks were rosy and burning, your lipgloss was long gone and you took off your lashes during the third round of beer pong. Still, you were the most beautiful woman before him.

Hours of laughter came to a halt while all of that was racing through his brain, his smile faded into a loving gaze. You kept your drunk smile, but your gaze had no less amount of admiration.

Scott didn’t hesitate to lean into you, pressing his lips against yours, tasting all the sweets and alcohol you’ve had tonight. He was in a trance, not being able to get enough of you. You tried to keep up, catching your breath and laughing between kisses, your cheeks flushed when you felt his hand press against the back of your head, bringing a new energy to your body.

You pulled away for a breath, laughing and happily receiving all the attention. “Never leave.” He pleaded, half joking and lazily kissing the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t ever dream of it” you snapped back, lips looking for his drunkenly.

Whether or not he was under house arrest, you were sure you’d end up on the same couch, the same night.

[ryaiga]

The One God Forbade

Chapter 2

Pairing - Captain Price X GN!Reader X Lieutenant Riley

MDNI 18+ PLEASE.

WORD COUNT:  7.7k

Summary: You finally get some well deserved downtime, getting a new tattoo to hide a scar you had. However, you get a call saying that you were recently transferred from the ECHO team to Task Force 141.

AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END! 

WARNINGS/CWS/TWS: Military terms that might be wrong, Paranoia, Drinking.

Spacers/Headers by: @mmadeinheavenn , @imlevis , @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

“Please!- Please- I have a- a- a family.. Please, I swear I didn’t want to do all that to you! I was just doing as I was-” BANG-

Your body jolted forward, waking you from the slumber that was fueled by the nightmares of being on the field. You raised your hand to see them, clenching and unclenching whilst you turned them repetitively to inspect for any change. Your t-shirt clung to your body with the remaining sweat that was too stubborn to evaporate into the cold air. The room was dark, with nothing but the moonlight emanating from the window. You weren’t on the field, you were in your small apartment complex now. You took deep breaths as you scanned the room, looking at the trinkets you had scattered over the few surfaces you had. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see picture frames of the Echo team and one of your mom sitting across your bed. A reminder that you weren’t in the barracks. A small speaker with white noise playing softly sat on top of your dresser. Slowly, you felt yourself being grounded back to reality.

Nights like this meant that you weren’t going to get more sleep now that you were rudely awakened. That being said, you walked to the bathroom of your small studio apartment with a clean tee in hand. You changed and sat on the bed, not wanting to forget the words said in your dream, you reached over to the bedside table for a small journal with quotes that had awakened you the same way tonight’s little plea did. You merely wrote it down, not wanting to dwell on the thought or memory any longer. You figured that you might as well preoccupy yourself with a little spring cleaning to allow your mind a break. Or so you could zone out, like the times on the field but without a sniper rifle in hand. 

You chose to start with the laundry. You grabbed all the ‘dirty’ clothes and placed them in the basket before walking to your washing machine and stuffing it with said laundry. Doing what’s necessary, putting the two cups of detergent liquid, closing the door, and setting the machine to mix before starting it. Then, you made your way down the list; Dishes? Washed and dried. Furniture? Pushed back to the exact millimeter of where it was first placed when you first moved in. Dust? Hunted and dusted. Laundry to end it off, dried, folded, and kept in their respective places. Doing all this helped ground yourself more with reality, bringing you out of the deployment mindset that was conditioned into you. Albeit, it was also what you were used to doing back in the early days of being a Navy recruit.

And as per the routine, the clock strikes 6:00 am, three hours since you woke up. Now it was time for your morning run around the street. You put on your shoes and grabbed the headphones from the table that housed your knick-knacks like your keys, wallet, and karambit. You grabbed the two, hooking the keys through your pants loop, and holstered your karambit in its place by your inner thigh. Wallet and phone in hand, you leave your apartment, locking the door and exiting the complex.

It's been a week. Yet no amount of vodka helped with the nightmares. But something about last night’s dream was different. It wasn’t just the sounds that followed the war and the imagery of corpses from both sides littering the field. Instead, it was the body of a man who had pulled your fingernails. And this time he was begging to be given a chance before it was abruptly interrupted with a pistol shot to… to? 

That you don’t remember. Yet it haunted you as you ran. Every stride you took awakened a feeling of fear in you from that day for some reason. Running your usual route with tunnel vision slowly creeping into your sight. Sounds of even more white noise playing through your headphones usually helped with it, making sure your mind didn't drift away. But 

You finished your run and decided to drop by the local tattoo parlor you wanted a ‘cover-up’ of the branding scar you had. It still sustained a little of its bright red color, so you thought why not slap a knight holding a sword to help divert the viewer’s eyes? You’d embrace the scar on your left arm instead of just hiding it. You didn't know what to get, not wanting to be the typical American soldier who gets an eagle or skull with any form of ammunition. You decided a knight with a shield that has the Echo team insignia and a sword would fit both you and the spot perfectly.

Since you knew the artist who works at that shop, the booking went smoothly. All that’s left is to come in tomorrow since she was nice enough to keep a slot open for you. Your next stop was a hole-in-the-wall cafe for a light snack and coffee.

You diverted from your usual routine. See, usually you’d buy your order of americano with a nice little blueberry cupcake (it’s what you’d get at the base for breakfast.), but today felt off. It felt like you had eyes on you. You weren’t on the field, and definitely not too far from base. Yet the paranoia and instincts in you are blaring brighter and louder by the second, similar to a flare that was shot out in the midst of the night’s darkness. Unavoidable. You gave it time just in case it really was just paranoia, you decided it would help if you sat outside the cafe. You’d scan your surroundings with just your peripheral vision, something that was instilled into you for reconnaissance missions. No one stood out.

An hour goes by and you were starting to get stares from small families who’d pass you, taking it as a sign to leave. You beelined home, not wanting to deal with more stress than you already felt. The nightmares weighed your consciousness long enough and the possibility of someone stalking you was making you feel on edge. You got home, checked all the rooms and locks. Sweeping from one end to the other, bathroom windows locked and covered, bedroom windows locked and curtains drawn, all living room windows got the same treatment. And there you sat, by your bed with a pistol in hand with a clear shot to the front door. That’s where you remained for the rest of the day, glad that you took care of the chores earlier that morning. 

You were awoken by the buzzing of your phone. Just your alarm, 6 a.m. Time for your run. You must’ve been so mentally tired that you didn’t realize you’d passed out. However, you were glad you were that tired as there were no nightmares, just empty silent darkness as you rested. You got up and headed to the bathroom, remembering that you didn’t have a rinse after the run. You got ready, headphones, keys, karambit. But today you had your pistol with you too. You kept it hidden in your boots. 

You went for your run, nothing out of the norm yet. No prying eyes followed you like a hawk, as it should be. You made your way to the tattoo parlor for your appointment, you know it isn't the brightest idea to get a tattoo on a recent scar but you'd rather look at art than a bright red scar. You looked around and realized that the shop was empty, your tattoo artist made sure to not have people around so you can have peace of mind while being tattooed.

She sat you at one of her booths and got your arm ready for the long first session. It was a big piece for a first and she asked if you really wanted to get the entire tattoo in one go . You've been through a lot so a needle continuously stabbing you should be fine. The concerned expression she had faded as she starts. You sat there in her care with the buzz of the needle she wielded and the radio playing in the store. She'd tell you stories, from the different clients she had to the apartment complex and her weird neighbors.

 You had bumped into her on a moving day. With your small stature and zero presence, you couldn't blame her. She felt bad and chose to help you despite you telling her you didn't need it. Apparently, she lived in the apartment across from yours. She told you about her little tattoo parlor. You never caught her name surprisingly, considering how she helps keep your apartment dust-free whenever you go on deployments. She treats you like a younger sibling, occasionally inviting you over for food which you always accept. Better than the shitty microwave meals you had procured in the freezer. She’d keep you up to date with what’s going on with the neighbors. 

She was your only form of social interaction and you were honestly glad. But you could never tell her anything about your ‘job’. All she knew was that her neighbor is never home and when they are, she’ll never know until they bump into her. Hours later she finished the piece, you thank her with a simple ‘Thank you, neighbor.’.  “You do know I have a name right? No need for neighbor anymore, it’s Jordan.” Both of you walk to the counter as she tells you how to care for the fresh tattoo but she stops you when she sees you pulling out your wallet. “On the house. You keep me company while you're home and eat whenever I invite you. This is the least I can do since I talk your ears off.” She chuckles and tells you to come over tonight for dinner, it was burrito night and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. You agreed and left the parlor. Deciding that maybe you should bring a nice drink to Jordan’s place, you walked to the store.

That’s when you felt something out of place again. Someone watching. Not close, but within said person’s peripherals. You quickly took to the sheltered alleys and crowd. It’s off-putting, the fact that you are spending your downtime feeling like you were being watched. You couldn’t just blame it on your paranoia anymore. It honestly starts to piss you off, you shot Jordan a message with your burner phone. You asked if she could cook for you every day now. The feeling of being watched made you decide that it wasn’t worth leaving the house, you can run loops around your apartment and Jordan loves cooking for you so it seems like a win-win in your book. You finally reach the supermarket, grabbing a trolley. You start filling the trolley with ingredients for Jordan, 2 big bottles of soft drinks you think she’d like, and a bottle of vodka for yourself. You quickly make your way to the checkout, you feel the eyes of civilians, and yet the one who’s following you is what caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand. You practically threw a hundred-dollar bill at the cashier and rushed out with the bags. The person was a professional stalker because no matter how well you scanned the people around you, you couldn’t spot them.

You finally made it to the flight of stairs to your apartment level. You dropped off the ingredients by Jordan’s door before knocking it and heading back to yours. You needed a shower before dinner. You needed to feel the cold water wash the sweat and paranoia off your heavily scarred skin. You needed it off you asap. It's funny how it's about a week into your downtime and it feels as if you were on the receiving end of a reconnaissance mission.

You stepped into the shower and stayed under the water for a solid 30 minutes. You only left as you hear Jordan yelling at the door saying something about phone and dinner. You dried off, put on your usual fit, and made your way to the fridge to grab the soft drinks. You hoped that a bottle of sweet tea and some soda would make up for asking her to cook meals for you. You quickly shot a message to Jordan to make sure all curtains are drawn and to not ask why. You didn’t want whoever to see that you were acquaintances with a civilian and that her safety is not jeopardized by your friendship with her. You waited 5 minutes before heading over. 

Jordan welcomed you in with that bright smile of hers and the smell of beef hits your nostril, making your mouth moist. It’s been a while since you had something that had even smelled this good. You walked to her little dining table and set the drinks on it before heading to her kitchen and helping with setting up. She knew exactly what you liked and made your burrito perfectly to how you did the first time you two had burrito night. All this simply from watching you eat. Both of you finally sat down after a long day and were ready for dinner and a little chat. You thanked Jordan for dinner and started eating, she started talking about how the neighbor next to her had their boyfriend move in and every night has been a nightmare for her. Just as she was about to say what was the reason, your burner phone rings. You apologized to Jordan but by now she was used to it from the few dinners you had to up and go back to base. You stood up and pulled your phone out to see who it was that is bothering your dinner time, it was Rodney. You excused yourself to the bathroom to answer it. 

“Hey (Y/N), just got a call from Laswell. Warrant Officer (Y/N), you are officially part of Task Force 141 as of today and are to report back to base to collect your gear and fly to their base. Congrats on making it into the big boy league and thank you Echo 2 for everything, hopefully, we’ll get to run missions with you in the future. As the Echo team once said, Best 2IC. I know you’ll do well there, you are still welcome to talk to me whenever (Y/N). Rest up, Echo team and I will see you off.” Just like that, Rodney ended the call before you could say anything. 

Leaving the Echo team? So soon might you add. It’s only been 3 years since you were assigned to the Echo team and yet you were the one selected to transfer to TF141. It made sense as you were a warrant officer but it was usually just for a mission or two with a different squadron. But never a permanent transfer. It’s not that you’ll miss them, you weren’t close to them in the first place, but you felt that someone better was more deserving of such a position. However, you never doubted Rodney’s decisions ever so you’d have to learn to get used to the new team, or the other way around.

You went back to the dining table and apologized again to Jordan for interrupting her. You felt that telling her you might not be home for years on end could wait until after dinner. You let her continue talking, listening, and chiming in on the conversation every now and then with small questions. You felt bad for leaving as it means she’d go back to helping make sure your apartment was kept dust-free while you were away and it’s no longer a few months but potentially years at a time. Maybe you could get her little souvenirs as a thank you. 

You polished your plate and brought both of your plates to the sink to wash. You felt that you’ve been there longer than usual and decided to call it a night. Before you left, you called out to Jordan who was confused as you usually just leave and she didn’t need to see you off. “I wanted to let you know that I’ll be traveling for work now Jordan and it might be for a year at a time. That being said, you really don’t have to clean my place while I'm gone-” “If you think I wouldn’t clean your place just because you’ll be away longer, you’d be very mistaken. Plus I could stay at your place if Rachel and her boyfriend decide to fuck every so loudly. You wouldn’t mind would ya?” You chuckle at how she purposely mentioned the loud fucking part loudly in hopes that the neighbor would hear. You told her she could use your place whenever but to make sure that everything stays in its place for the sake of your OCD and to make sure the curtains remain closed at all times when she’s there.

You went back and immediately went into your routine of making sure everything is secured. After which you immediately crashed onto your bed, too tired from everything that happened today. You’ll worry about packing tomorrow morning.

In your seventeen years of being in the military, you never would have predicted that you would have been selected to be a part of something bigger. 

You’ve done six years in the Navy, two years in Afghanistan for your first tour. During your time there on patrol duty, you saw it all. From being your fellow soldiers being shot at by terrorists who were kids armed with Ak-47s to the burn pit where every and anything is thrown and burned. Not forgetting the time where the humvee your team was in happened to drive over an IED and exploded, causing it to flip. Thankfully everyone was safe, walking off a concussion and a few scratches. You spent another year in Germany for the same thing. Throughout all this, you climbed the ranks and became a lieutenant. You managed to impress the higher ups with your combat skills and they had recommended you to go through the BUDS training to become a navy seal. Since you had barely any sense of direction to how you wanted to leave, you went with the flow.

Six months of grueling training and seeing soldiers drop out purely from how intense it was, you made it out as a Seal team operative. Another 6 years of deployments as a Seal op and you witnessed many deaths, you’ve lost so many friendlies and some to which fueled your nightmares from how you wished (and sometimes knew) you could’ve saved. In a deployment, you were blown up by a rogue IED that the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Specialist had missed. Luckily for you it wasn’t enough to kill you but it did rattle you for the few months after, being very wary of where you stepped. What was your luck with IEDs? At some point people knew you as an IED detector that detects them a second too late, you even considered becoming an EOD specialist but decided not to as you were already a sniper and a combat medic.

Once again someone had eyes on you and had invited you to DEVGRU training to which you once again went. This time it was six weeks of training and you were part of the tiny few who were approved. Not to mention as they were deciding who to accept, you had caught Rodney’s attention but at this point Echo team was a complete team. You spent two years training and waiting for a position in any team. To make use of the time, you decided to go to the Special Force Warrant Officer Institute. Not long after becoming a warrant officer, you were called in to join Echo team as a member had stepped down to retire. That’s where you met Rodney and the team.

And that’s where you found yourself again, the door that led to the cages but this time was to say goodbye. Everyone stood by the table in the center with shit eating grins on their faces. “Finally made it here 2ic, we’ve been waiting man!” Ricko spoke up, he was Echo’s K9 handler. The pup, Cerberus, comes up to you as if he knew that it was your time to leave. It touched you that they wanted to send you off, never would’ve thought that you were that much of an impact to the guys. Rodney hands you a picture, it was a picture of Echo team after your first deployment with them. You chuckled before patting him on the back, you turned to the guys and thanked them for coming to say their goodbyes. You stepped into your cage to grab your gear. You told the team that you’d want to visit the surplus store to get more stuff just in case. A couple more inner long sleeves and pants wouldn’t hurt to have.

You soon made your way to the store for a quick shopping session, with Echo team behind you being rowdy as their usual selves, it got you thinking whether you’d miss the noise whenever you're on base awaiting a green light for the next mission. You grabbed the clothing you needed, in hopes that it is enough for your time in the new base, then again you could shoot Rodney a text for a care package if needed but you’d rather be prepared for now. You decided to grab a couple of t-shirts in a material you like to repurpose into a fitted mask that would simply cover half of your face down to your neck, the balaclavas available were nice but you wanted a more personalized article of clothing for your face. You were about to pay when the entirety of Echo team fought each other to pay for your items, you simply stood back and chuckled alongside Rodney. Never in your time in the military would you imagine seeing grown men fighting each other to pay for clothing specifically. 

It soon came time to board the plane to the UK to meet your new team. The guys had lined up the walkway to the plane’s entrance with Rodney next to the entrance itself. Before you could make your way to the walkway, someone walked out the entrance. A lady with blond hair comes out to talk to Rodney. You walked past the guys, man hugging them and telling them to take care of each other now that you were gone. You waved your final goodbyes to them and made your way to Rodney and the lady. “(Y/n), this is Station Chief Kate Laswell, she supervises all the missions Task Force 141 goes on.” You shook her hand with a slight bow of your head to show respect to her. “Take care of this one Laswell, they’re quite a handful but a handful worth keeping.” He lets out a soft chuckle and you could see that Rodney was a little sad behind those eyes of his, he looks at you and gives you a sincere smile before telling you to take care of yourself and to text him if you need anything. He soon joins the boys to see you off from a distance.

You boarded the aircraft with Laswell, noting that there were a few other officers from your base who were making the trip with you. None of whom you personally knew, you’d find an empty corner and chose to sit there. It wouldn’t hurt to take a nap during the flight over. Despite your eyes being closed, your mind was awake. You heard everything around you, the whispers of you by the other officers on how you were terrifying. Little did they know, you were merely a quiet one and not that scary if they bothered to chat. Even if you didn't like talking to new people thanks to social anxiety, you wouldn't have been that much of a killer if they'd just said hi.

The flight was as smooth as you could get when traveling between bases, you 'woke' up from the nap thanks to Laswell and had helped the rest gather up their bags before touchdown. Soon enough the pilots gave us the announcement that we arrived safely and could depart. You braced yourself, not sure who's in your new squad and whether they were going to be nice enough to you.

You grabbed your bag and gear, 'no reason to be nervous, you're more than capable' you told yourself. You set foot onto the asphalt, sun glaring down at you as if it was foreshadowing your 'bright' future with TF141. Eyes finally adjusting, they set upon only Captain Price. Surprisingly enough the rest of the team wasn't there, you were almost glad until you heard a familiar Scottish accent.

"Sorry capt, tried to get Lt out of his office but apparently he has much more pressing issues to handle before meeting the new recruit- I mean lieutenant." If you recall his name correctly, Soap corrected himself when he saw you. He donned a look that wasn't bad nor good either. You simply chalked it off to the vase incident you two had. "Hell's fuckin' bells if it isn't you, you vase chucking cunt." He chuckles before smacking you lightly behind the head. Well that clears the air, no hard feelings for the past and clearly he was on best friend status with how he greeted you.

Laswell had gone to Price to chat a bit before he walked up to you. "Welcome to our base (Y/n), glad to see that you came prepared already." He pats you on the back before having Soap show you to the barracks. "Didn't catch my name did ya, Sergeant Johnny "Soap" McTavish but I'm not one for the whole formalities shite. Plus you're now part of our fuckin' team, practically family now." He sure does talk, not even the boys from Echo could compete but at least it isn't an awkward silence. "Warrant Officer (Y/n) (Y/L/N). Nice to properly meet you Soap, apologies for the vase." He merely waved you off, laughing and giving you kudos for catching him off guard.

You weren't far off from the barracks from what Soap has told you, glad that you weren't going to lug around your gear for much longer. But you suddenly felt those same eyes from back home on you once more. It almost had you stop in your tracks just to look around, but you didn't. You had a nagging feeling that Soap was gonna bombard you with questions and right now you were in no mood to entertain an interrogation. You tried to ignore it for now. The two of you finally reach the front door to the barracks, with the stalker still watching. 

When all of a sudden the door nearly flies off its hinges with 2 guys chasing one another out. "Gaz!- Get back here right the fuck now before I get the old man here!" A British man with tight curls dashes right past you with an American man with hazel hair chasing close behind. You quickly moved aside not wanting to get rammed into. "Steamin' hell- well that was Gaz and Alex, although you won't see Alex around base too often as he's helping a special someone back in the Urzikstani Liberation Force. More on that later!"

Soap proceeded to drag you to your room. "Nothing too fancy, just consider yourself lucky not having to share a bunk with the other guys." It was pretty similar to your apartment and way better than your barrack back home. Although, it was a little more on the luxury end of a military barrack. The common room was rather spacious, that in itself was a major difference from what you had back home. Soap had shown you the little break room they had if the squad decides to eat a meal together. Soap stated specifically to not eat in the common room unless its snacks aren't messy, this was because a certain member was rather particular on the barracks cleanliness. He did not specify who exactly it was. Soap shows you to your personal room. You thanked Soap for the tour before deciding to place your stuff down and organize them into their respective spots. 

Once you were done, you realized it was already 7pm there. It's been 2 hours since you touched down and you are definitely long overdue for a good wash down. That's when you also found out that the barracks here have private bathrooms and not a communal one. You walked into your shower, it wasn't big nor was it small enough to feel stuffy from being in it. Thankfully there were spare towels in the cabinet under the sink, you grabbed it and instantly used it to cover the mirror. You were about to shower when you forgot your toiletries in one of the bags you brought.

Wrapped in a towel, you stepped out to grab your toiletries. You turned to head back for a shower when there was a knock on your door "(Y/n)? We're heading out to a local pub not far from here. Wanted to see if you wanted to come." Unfamiliar voice, probably Gaz. You gave a quick response, agreeing but that you wanted a quick shower before you leave. He gives you the go ahead and you finally take that well needed rinse. You squatted low under the showerhead as you let the harsh mist wash the sweat from your body. You must've zoned out because Soap was hammering on your bathroom door. "Oi! Gaz said you were showering, not fuckin' asleep in there. Hurry up so I can drink Gaz under, you vase cunt!" You hear Soap chuckle at someone's disagreement, that you couldn't quite hear, coming from the common room.

You dried off, taking your dirty clothes and placing them neatly by the sink, before wrapping yourself once again with the towel. "Steamin' Jesus- give a brother a heads up!" You caught Soap by surprise when you stepped out, receiving a slightly disturbed look by him before he turned to leave. You quickly grabbed some cargo pants, a crew neck instead of the usual as you weren't in the mood for a hassle, and chose the half-face balaclava and a cap. You pocketed your burner phone and wallet after putting on a simple pair of gloves.

"Finally the diva is out, shite. Gaz and Alex meet (Y/n), pretty sure you remember the fucker Alex." He giggles after his little comment to Alex before it turns into a full blown cackle after seeing Alex grimace. You mentally noted to apologize for whatever you did. Soap grabs you and starts pushing you out the barracks door, only to be greeted by a 6 '2 (189cm) man with a lower half of a skull painted on his balaclava. You dug your foot into the concrete just in time to not get pushed into the man in front of you. Soap smacks his face into your back causing him to groan. 

"(Y/n), this is Lieutenant Riley." Price walks up from behind the man. Oddly enough, his presence felt familiar, but you dont think it's in a good way. "I think he prefers-" Soap butts in but is interrupted immediately. "Just Ghost will do soldier.” Ghost shot a glare towards Soap, garnering chuckles from the rest of the squad. Price beckons for you guys to get into a pickup truck as enough time has been wasted. He also called for you to ride shotgun while the rest sat in the cargo bed. You followed as told, sitting next to the captain as he started the engine and drove the whole lot of you towards the pub they frequented. 

"Enjoy your personal space here? I know it isn't much but if there's anything you need, do let me know." Price shot a smile at you before knocking the small window behind both of you, letting the rest know that we'll be reaching soon. Price finds a spot that is right next to the pub's entrance. "Try to relax, I know we pulled you from your downtime so use this as both a welcome gesture and an apology for pulling you to base." He spoke softly as if the rest could hear. Once the truck came to a stop, your door was yanked open and similar to the door you were next to be yanked. 

Soap practically pulled you out the truck like nothing, laughter from Gaz and Alex soon followed. The trio dragged you into the small English pub, definitely different from the usual bar scene you were used to with Echo. You just hope that they had something you could drink. The trio sat by a booth not far from where the bar was as Ghost and Price went to. Alex got up to get a round for the booth, coming back with 2 tall boys in each of his hands before passing them out. Despite not liking beer, you took it to be polite. 

The three chatted amongst each other catching up from what seemed like individual assignments while you took sips of your beer. You turned to Alex, "I wanna apologize for the uh, incident..?" Alex simply leaned his head sideways, "Don't even sweat it greenie, you happened to just come back from something traumatic. Just don't remind Soap- too late…"

Before Alex had the chance to finish, Soap’s ears had perked up. He starts retelling his version of the incident. Soap had swapped watch duty with Alex to grab a bite and after he felt rather nice because he had grabbed snacks for Alex. He came back to med bay when he saw the doctors trying to pull you off Alex who was honestly too flustered and confused at what just went down. "Okay, in my defense, I just walked in and all I saw was bare ass. Sorry (y/n), but honestly that gown did jack shit for your ass. Why do medical gowns not cover ass even?" Alex stuttered as he tried to defend himself.

Your cheeks now flushed red, you had almost spat the sip of beer in your mouth when Alex brought up 'bare ass'. Apparently, the doctors at med bay were doing their daily checkup on you when you came to again. You had assumed the worst and were defending yourself, Alex had caught you by surprise when he walked in. Soap literally had to pull you off him as Alex was too confused at what went down. You couldn’t blame him either, how would you react if some random soldier jumped you and you were flat on the ground within 5 seconds?

You thank Soap in your head for segwaying into messing with Alex and how he reacts to shit that happens out the blue. Gaz simply chuckled and soon added onto the teasing. You took this opportunity to slink your way to the bar for some alone time. You wait for the bartender and when they come to you, you simply tell them to keep your shot glass filled with vodka and a glass of bourbon constantly topped up till you tell them to stop. You were a heavyweight drinker and knew that it took a shit ton of drinks to actually feel somewhat drunk. Guess you could thank the sleepless nights for building your tolerance to alcohol.

You were down 10 shots of vodka and 2 glasses of bourbon, picking at the threads that lined your forearm while tuning out the noise of the rest of the pub. You didn’t notice Price walked up and sat next to you. “So how did Laswell get to know you (y/n), CIA then soldier? Cause if she sent you, you got one hell of a track record.” Price was the one to start up a chat. Captain being proactive and learning about the new member before anyone else, nothing you weren��t used to. “Seventeen years climbing the ranks from Navy to Seal, but I’m sure you’ve seen my file Capt.” You felt that whenever your team captain asked how or why you got transferred over, that they surely already know about your past in the military. “That's quite a lot of years in service. How did you become a soldier, you grew up with a soldier parent? or was it just something you wanted to do?”

You decide to entertain Price's questions, nothing to hide after all. “No. Dad died and I left mom after college. Somehow ended up in the Navy. After 5 years there, I was promoted to a Lt. I decided to transfer to special ops, did BUDS and DEVGRU training that took another 5 years, the last 7 years was doing missions with Echo Team wherever we were needed.” 

 Price hums in response as he lights a cigar. “Life's tough soldier. But as long as you have a good team, it becomes a little less hard. What's your opinion on war?” The question threw you off, no one had questioned why any of you were sent to war. “dumb politics. the only reason for war. politicians feeling the need to one up each other, and at what cost? Their brave soldiers and the lives of innocent civs.”

“I agree. Politicians send our boys to hell and for what, money? power? they're not the ones fighting or dying. But it’s for the better good of maintaining some resemblance to world peace.” Price gave a response that you’d expect from someone who’s been in the military for a while. You were glad that both of you were on the same page. “So, how do you deal with stress? I’m sure a soldier as experienced as you must’ve got some way to cope, enlighten me.” Price asked as he finished the glass of whiskey he brought over. You chuckled, “I’m sure it’s similar to any of the others, vices. Drinking, smoking. That's about it.” You followed suit and downed your own glass. He waves for the bartender, offering you some whiskey to which you felt that you couldn’t turn down.

“To The soldiers that made the ultimate sacrifice.” Price holds up his hand up his glass to cheer.”To those we lost along the way, the bravest ones as well.” You smiled sadly under your mask, remembering your partner that you lost on a mission. The two of you take a drink from your glasses. “Aight enough about the heavy subject soldier. What was the funniest thing that happened to you in the military?” You appreciated the change in topics, you sit and think for a bit before remembering what Echo did recently. “Being given a trophy that reads "The best 2IC of the year", I brought it over from base.” You laughed, the mixture of alcohol has definitely made you looser than you’d normally are. You asked for your last shot and glass of bourbon from the bartender. 

Price took it as it was time to head back to base, turning to the boys in the booth and being met with the sight of Alex with his head down on the table and Gaz slurring at a Soap who’s for sure too drunk for his own good as he himself was slurring random Scottish gibberish while laughing. Price stood up and headed towards Ghost who was simply drinking water as he smoked, letting him know that he'll drive the team back. Ghost took his last puff before heading to the booth. He grabs Soap by the back of the collar dragging the drunken Scott out the booth before gently getting Gaz and wrapping his arm around his neck. Ghost with the two drunks walks his way out the pub and to the truck, setting them in the cargo bed. You down your drinks quickly to help Ghost with Alex who was clearly too hammered. You slowly guided him out the booth before slinging his arm around your neck and walking him to the truck. You pass him off to Ghost once you reach the cargo bed.

You only managed to get one foot on the step of the bumper bracket when Price walked out as he thanked the bartender. “(Y/n), you’re sitting passenger, I’ll handle the boys back here.” You tried to offer to watch the boys when he reassured you that this was the usual routine the team had. You weren’t gonna argue with the man so you stepped down and headed to the passenger side and entered. You buckled the seat belt and Ghost took his seat on the driver side. He buckles himself before knocking on the glass window behind him, letting Price know that he was about to start the drive back.

“What’s with the mask.” Ghost took you by surprise with that conversation starter, his focus still locked on the road. “Keeping my face to myself, maybe for the right people I can trust.” You were sure he saw what you looked like, especially since he was one of the people who came to your rescue. “Don’t worry, Price made sure no one saw your face when he found you.” It was as if the broody British man read your mind, it was a relief to say the least. You decided to shoot the same question back, similarly curious as to why he wore a mask himself. “Same reason as you.” That was it. One sentence. It was painfully honest that he did not want to indulge in sharing more than necessary. Not pushing, you nod in response and go back to staring out the window.

“Anyone back home, family or partner?” You wanted to question why he wanted to know more about you, maybe it’s just to see if he can trust you or hell just to know you. But it did break his character, or the infamous character everyone labeled him. “No. Dad died, disappeared from mom’s life. No partner.” He hums, tapping on the wheel as if the cogs in his head turns as he looks for a response but doesn’t. That’s where the line of questioning from your fellow lieutenant. The rest of the ride was simply filled with an oddly comfortable silence and the sound of the wheel rolling over the gravel road as you pulled up to the gates to base.

Ghost drives through base to park up by the parking lot closest to your barracks. “Help Price dump the boys in the common room. They’ll go to their rooms in the morning.” He states as he parks the truck. You hopped out and headed to the cargo bed, opening the tailgate door and pulling Soap to the edge to get him safely. Price lays Gaz on the couch while Ghost sets Alex on the recliner, leaving no spot for Soap. Ghost tells you to just drop him on the floor and you do. You walk into the communal kitchen to grab a drink before stepping out for a cigarette. 

You settled for a bottle of water to help hydrate yourself and prepare for the headache you'll get in the morning. You sat on the step leading to the entrance of the barrack, lighting a cigarette once you were comfortable. You sat there for a while, smoking alone and looking at the sky. You were glad the balaclava was thin, allowing you to take a drag without even lifting your mask. You touched your clothed face, reminded that you are scarred and that no one will look at your face without fear. You chuckled at the thought that stumbled into your mind, maybe Jordan would laugh instead of fear you, just like the older sister she is. 

Just as you finish that thought, Ghost walks up next to you. “Can’t sleep, soldier?” “Not that, just not ready to sleep.” You lit another cigarette, not wanting to say that your mind was still yelling at you on random topics. You take a drag before asking “You? Why are you out here?” No answer, nothing not to be expected of the silent man. You tap at the cigarette, tapping the ash off onto the gravel. You offered, to which Ghost surprisingly took a stick from your pack of cheap cigarettes. Once again like the drive back, the both of you sat in silence. A comfortable quiet, one that both of you welcomed. 

You were finished with your cigarette, getting up, you pat Ghost’s back before heading back in. He grunts in response. You threw the bottle away before checking up on the three that were out cold. You decided to place blankets on them before stepping into your room. You looked around, a bed you weren’t familiar with, four walls which enclose you in this new unfamiliarity. Your new room. Just like before, when you were first tasked to Echo team. But this time, no one was around to silence the voices. Those you had to kill, their pleas for mercy despite the heinous crime they committed mere seconds before, the cries of your fellow brothers and sisters in arms dying in your arms. No one to yell at each other to keep quiet so that anyone could sleep, no sound of someone watching a video on the lowest volume yet it was too loud for anyone to ignore, or even the sound of someone’s loved one on a call, talking like it was going to be the last call they’ll ever make.

Now you were left in the silence of these four walls in a country you weren’t familiar with. Surrounded with soldiers you knew nothing about except for the rumors about them and the long tales of the missions that they’ve come to complete. What were you there for? Whose shoe did you have to fill now? Questions like that started to plague you, filling your mind with doubt that you belonged. You weren’t meant to leave Echo, you certainly didn’t deserve a place in a prestigious team like Task Force 141. Right? 

You threw your clothing to the side, tears on the brinks of escape. You laid on the bed, in your garments. Wondering if it was truly your own thoughts or it was just the effects of the alcohol. You drifted to sleep, still questioning yourself as you fell deeper into the nightmare that awaits you in the hours to come.

A/N:

I KNOW- It's a long awaited chapter release, but between college and my health, it's been hard to get anything out. I've been chasing deadlines with all my projects on top of trying to not fall sick since catching Covid (thanks to my weak immune system). Not to mention the mountain of ideas that keeps flooding so it was hard to figure out how I wanted this to play out without revealing too much. Thank you to my proof reader for helping make sure this chapter has little to no grammatical errors and that the writing was perfect for you readers!

TAGLIST:

@thychuvaluswife  @tiny-kasper @tapioca-marzipan @rafaelacallinybbay @idkbroimjusthere  @wolfyland07 @berryjuicyy

[mrsirobin]

What Makes a Money Counting Machine an Essential Tool for Businesses in Bangladesh?

Managing cash is a part of everyday life in Bangladesh. From grocery shops and wholesale traders to bank tellers and microfinance offices, handling physical money is still the norm. But as cash transactions grow in volume, the pressure to count, verify, and manage it accurately also increases.

That’s where a Money Counting Machine becomes incredibly helpful. These machines are now widely used to improve accuracy, save time, and protect businesses from losses caused by counting mistakes or counterfeit currency. If you’re thinking about getting one, it’s a good idea to explore the Money Counting Machine price in Bangladesh through a reliable source like Nobarun BD, which offers a range of models suited for different needs.

Let’s take a closer look at how these machines work, who should use them, and why they’ve become a smart investment for so many.

What Exactly Is a Money Counting Machine?

A Money Counting Machine, also called a Currency Counting Machine, is a device that can count large volumes of banknotes quickly and precisely. Many of these machines now come with built-in fake note detector technology, which scans each note for UV markings, magnetic ink, and other features to help detect counterfeit currency.

The machines are typically used in places where counting cash manually becomes too slow, inaccurate, or stressful—especially at the end of a long business day.

Who Uses These Machines in Bangladesh?

While banks were the early adopters of money counters, their usefulness has spread far beyond that.

You can now find Money Counter Machines in:

Supermarkets and chain stores

Wholesale businesses and distribution centers

NGOs and loan offices

Restaurants and event venues

Cooperatives and school administration offices

General stores, pharmacies, and electronics shops

If you're dealing with daily cash intake or cash-based services, you’re a good candidate for using one.

Why Do Businesses Prefer Money Counting Machines?

There are several clear benefits that make a Money Counting Machine worth considering:

1. Faster Counting = More Productivity

Manually counting 1000 notes can take a person 15 to 20 minutes, and that too with a chance of error. A Currency Counting Machine can do the same task in less than a minute, freeing up time for other important work.

2. Accuracy and Error-Free Operations

Fatigue, distractions, and pressure often lead to miscounts. These errors can cost businesses money or damage trust with customers and staff. With a Money Counter Machine, you get reliable, error-free results every time.

3. Protection from Counterfeit Notes

Fake notes are still a concern across Bangladesh. A money counting machine with fake note detector alerts the user immediately if a suspicious note is detected, reducing the risk of financial losses and improving accountability.

4. Better Organization and Cash Flow Management

Some machines offer batching functions, allowing you to prepare cash in organized bundles for banking, deposits, or payroll distribution. This helps maintain a more structured approach to cash handling.

Real-World Examples from Bangladesh

The impact of these machines can be seen across a wide range of users:

A retail shop in Dhanmondi reduced its closing time from 45 minutes to 10 by using an automatic money counter.

A small bank branch in Bogura improved customer service during rush hours by installing machines that detect fake notes and count mixed denominations.

A clothing wholesaler in Sylhet now uses a currency counter daily to handle payments from multiple customers without the stress of miscounting or disputes.

A rural NGO office distributing small loans found batch-counting functions particularly helpful in managing repayments.

These real examples show just how useful Money Counting Machines have become in everyday business scenarios.

What Features Should You Look For?

Not every machine is the same. Depending on your needs, here are some features to consider:

Counting Speed: Most machines handle between 800 to 1500 notes per minute.

Fake Note Detection: Look for UV, MG, and IR detection to guard against counterfeit currency.

Display Screen: A clear, easy-to-read digital display is important in fast-paced environments.

Batch and Add Functions: Useful for preparing bundles or totaling multiple stacks.

Note Size Compatibility: Ensure the machine supports all denominations of Bangladeshi Taka.

Noise Level: A quieter model might be better for customer-facing areas like bank counters or retail stores.

Choosing a model that fits your daily workflow is key to getting the best value.

What’s the Cost of a Money Counting Machine in Bangladesh?

Many people assume these machines are expensive. In reality, they are more accessible than ever. A reliable Money Counter Machine can now be purchased for as little as BDT 21,000.

Of course, more advanced models with mixed-denomination counting, multi-currency support, or high-speed performance may cost more. But even the basic machines provide excellent value by saving time, reducing errors, and improving business operations.

To compare models and explore the latest Money Counting Machine price in bd, you can visit platforms like Nobarun BD, which offer detailed specifications and photos.

Is It Really Worth It?

Absolutely. Let’s break it down:

Cost Savings: Avoid losses from fake notes or miscounting errors.

Time Efficiency: Finish cash handling tasks faster and with less stress.

Professionalism: Present your business as organized and tech-savvy.

Scalability: As your business grows, you’ll already have systems in place that support larger volumes of transactions.

Think of a Money Counting Machine not as an expense but as a long-term asset that pays for itself over time through efficiency and protection.

Final Thoughts

In Bangladesh’s fast-moving economy, staying organized and accurate with cash handling can make a big difference in a business's success. Whether you’re managing a bank, running a shop, or overseeing an NGO, having the right tools to manage money securely is essential.

A Money Counting Machine helps eliminate the risks of manual counting, improves your operational speed, and safeguards your cash flow against counterfeit currency. And with machines now starting from just BDT 21,000, there’s no reason to delay this upgrade.

As businesses across the country continue to modernize, these machines are no longer just nice-to-have—they are becoming a must-have for anyone dealing with cash daily.

[businessindustry]

2032, Currency Count Machine Market Share, Trends by 2024-2032

The Reports and Insights, a leading market research company, has recently releases report titled “Currency Count Machine Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2024-2032.” The study provides a detailed analysis of the industry, including the global Currency Count Machine Market, size, trends, and growth forecasts. The report also includes competitor and regional analysis and highlights the latest advancements in the market.

Report Highlights:

How big is the Currency Count Machine Market?

The global currency counting machine market size reached US$ 230.2 million in 2023. Looking forward, Reports and Insights expects the market to reach US$ 360.1 million in 2032, exhibiting a growth rate (CAGR) of 5.1% during 2024-2032.

What are Currency Count Machine?

A currency counting machine is a specialized device designed to rapidly and accurately count large quantities of banknotes. It works by automatically sorting and counting bills as they move through its mechanism, often including features for detecting counterfeit notes and sorting by denomination. This technology enhances efficiency and minimizes errors compared to manual counting. Commonly used in banks, retail settings, and financial institutions, these machines may also offer additional functions such as batch counting, totaling, and report generation, making them vital for cash management and processing.

Request for a sample copy with detail analysis: https://www.reportsandinsights.com/sample-request/1960

What are the growth prospects and trends in the Currency Count Machine industry?

The currency counting machine market growth is driven by various factors and trends. The currency counting machine market is growing as the need for efficient and accurate cash management solutions rises across various industries. This growth is fueled by the demand for quicker processing and reduced errors in banks, retail stores, and financial institutions. Technological advancements, including improved counterfeit detection, enhanced bill sorting, and digital integration, are driving market expansion. Additionally, the increasing volume of cash transactions and the push for operational efficiency contribute to the market's development. Leading companies are investing in innovation and broadening their product lines to address the changing needs of customers and support ongoing market growth. Hence, all these factors contribute to currency counting machine market growth.

What is included in market segmentation?

The report has segmented the market into the following categories:

By Product Type:

Basic Currency Count Machines

Advanced Currency Count Machines

Mixed Bill Count Machines

High-capacity Currency Count Machines

Portable Currency Count Machines

Technology:

Optical Sensing Technology

Magnetic Sensing Technology

Ultraviolet (UV) Detection

Infrared (IR) Detection

Magnetic Ink (MG) Detection

End-user:

Banking Sector

Retail Sector

Commercial Sector

Gaming Sector

Hospitality Sector

Features:

Counterfeit Detection

Sorting and Batching

Value Counting

Fitness Sorting

Connectivity Options (USB, Ethernet, etc.)

Distribution Channel:

Online Retailers

Offline Retailers

Direct Sales

Distributors

Ownership Type:

Independent Ownership

Bank-owned

Capacity:

Low-capacity Machines

Medium-capacity Machines

High-capacity Machines

Sales Channel:

New Sales

Aftermarket Sales

Rental/Leasing

Price Range:

Low Range

Medium Range

High Range

Customer Type:

Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs)

Large Enterprises

Application:

Cash Centers

Retail Stores

Banks

Casinos

Hotels

Counter Type:

Single Counter

Multi-Counter

Authentication Mode:

Manual Authentication

Automated Authentication

Industry Vertical:

Financial Services

Retail and E-commerce

Gaming and Entertainment

Hospitality and Tourism

Others

Market Positioning:

Entry-level/Basic Models

Mid-level Models

Premium/High-end Models

Segmentation By Region:

North America:

United States

Canada

Europe:

Germany

United Kingdom

France

Italy

Spain

Russia

Poland

BENELUX

NORDIC

Rest of Europe

Asia Pacific:

China

Japan

India

South Korea

ASEAN

Australia & New Zealand

Rest of Asia Pacific

Latin America:

Brazil

Mexico

Argentina

Rest of Latin America

Middle East & Africa:

Saudi Arabia

South Africa

United Arab Emirates

Israel

Egypt

Rest of MEA

Who are the key players operating in the industry?

The report covers the major market players including:

Giesecke+Devrient

Glory Ltd.

Cummins Allison

Delarue

Cassida Corporation

Kisan Electronics

Laurel Bank Machines

Innovative Technology Ltd.

BCash Electronics

AccuBANKER

Billcon Corporation

Semacon

Klopp Coin Counter

Magner Corporation

Royal Sovereign International

View Full Report: https://www.reportsandinsights.com/report/Currency Count Machine-market

If you require any specific information that is not covered currently within the scope of the report, we will provide the same as a part of the customization.

About Us:

Reports and Insights consistently mееt international benchmarks in the market research industry and maintain a kееn focus on providing only the highest quality of reports and analysis outlooks across markets, industries, domains, sectors, and verticals. We have bееn catering to varying market nееds and do not compromise on quality and research efforts in our objective to deliver only the very best to our clients globally.

Our offerings include comprehensive market intelligence in the form of research reports, production cost reports, feasibility studies, and consulting services. Our team, which includes experienced researchers and analysts from various industries, is dedicated to providing high-quality data and insights to our clientele, ranging from small and medium businesses to Fortune 1000 corporations.

Contact Us:

Reports and Insights Business Research Pvt. Ltd. 1820 Avenue M, Brooklyn, NY, 11230, United States Contact No: +1-(347)-748-1518 Email: sales@reportsandinsights.com Website: https://www.reportsandinsights.com/ Follow us on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/report-and-insights/ Follow us on twitter: https://twitter.com/ReportsandInsi1

[hindvanture]

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Arun Automation Notes Counting Machine with Fake Note Detector & LED Display-1 Year Warranty

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[cashcountingmachinebybankomat]

Bankomat Sorter

The BMT2101SORTER is a fitness sorting machine designed primarily for counting and classifying banknotes. Here are its key features and specifications:

Features

Mixed Denomination Sorting: Capable of sorting new Indian Rupee (INR) denominations including ₹10, ₹20, ₹50, ₹100, ₹200, and ₹500.

Advanced Detection Technology: Utilizes various detection methods such as IR Image, Spectrum Image, UV, IR, Fluorescence, Metal Thread, Magnetic Image, Magnetic Ink, Serial Number, and Multi-point Thickness Measurement.

Automatic Detection: Features automatic detection for half notes and double notes.

Hopper and Stacker Capacity: The hopper can hold up to 500 pieces, while the stacker can accommodate 200 pieces.

Bankomat Sorter

Specifications

Counting Speed: 1000 pieces per minute.

Power Supply: AC 100-240V, 50/60Hz.

Power Consumption: Less than 130W.

Operating Temperature: 5°C to 35°C.

Weight: Net weight is 16.5 kg and gross weight is 18 kg.

Dimensions: The size of the color box is 300 mm x 300 mm x 360 mm.

The machine is currently available for ₹160,999, down from its original price of ₹226,999, indicating a promotional discount of 30%

[notecountingmachine]

Elcons 1015t BLACK Super Mix Note Counting Machine

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬. All type of paper Shredder Machines', Safe Locker, cash drawer ,fake note detector and counting machine available at best prices . Call us on 𝟖𝟕𝟓𝟎𝟕𝟖𝟖𝟕𝟖𝟖 www.elcons.in for more information. Ideal for banks, retail stores, and cash-intensive environments, this machine supports multiple currencies and offers batch, add, and auto-stop functions.

[kavinstarindia]

Note Counting Machine Price in Mumbai

Note Counting Machine Price in Mumbai

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[eromart]

Cash Counting Machines Online Best Prices in Erode, Salem, Namakkal, Tirupur, Coimbatore, Chennai, Madurai, Tamil Nadu EROMART 9444307037

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[whythinktoomuch]

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor. 

--

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”  

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

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💸 Money Counting Machine Price in Bangladesh – A Smart Tool for Smart Cash Handling

Handling large amounts of cash every day can be stressful, risky, and time-consuming—especially for business owners, retail shop managers, bank clerks, and even general users who deal with frequent cash transactions. That’s why a Money Counting Machine is no longer a luxury—it’s a necessity in today’s fast-paced economy.

If you’re wondering about the Money Counting Machine price in Bangladesh or which model is right for you, this article is designed to walk you through everything in a simple and helpful way.

🧠 What Is a Money Counting Machine?

A Money Counting Machine, also called a Currency Counting Machine or Money Counter Machine, is an automatic device used to count bundles of banknotes quickly and accurately. These machines are commonly used in shops, banks, offices, and organizations where cash flow is high.

More advanced models come with fake note detector sensors that identify counterfeit bills using UV, MG, or IR technology. This not only saves time but also protects businesses from financial losses due to fake currency.

✅ Why Do You Need One?

Manual cash counting is tiring, often inaccurate, and leaves room for human error. A single mistake in counting could cause hours of confusion and loss. Here’s why a Money Counting Machine makes life easier:

Fast Processing: Count hundreds of notes in seconds.

Accuracy Guaranteed: Avoid human errors and recounts.

Fake Note Detection: Advanced models come with built-in fake note detector systems.

Time-Saving: Automate repetitive tasks and let your staff focus on more important things.

Professional Handling: Build trust with customers and staff with transparent cash management.

🏪 Who Should Use It?

This machine is perfect for anyone who deals with cash regularly. Here's a quick list:

Retail store owners

Wholesalers and distributors

Pharmacies and supermarkets

NGOs and educational institutions

Event organizers

Fuel stations

Ticket counters

Small to medium-sized businesses

Whether your business is large or small, a Money Counting Machine simplifies the way you handle money.

🧾 Different Types of Money Counter Machines

Before you buy, it’s important to understand the different types available in the market:

1. Basic Money Counter Machines

Functions: Just count the notes.

Use case: For small shops or personal use.

Limitation: No fake note detector included.

2. Money Counting Machine with Fake Note Detector

Functions: Counts notes and detects counterfeit bills.

Ideal for: Medium-size shops, offices, clinics, etc.

Technology used: UV (ultraviolet), MG (magnetic), IR (infrared).

3. Advanced Currency Counting Machine

Functions: Mixed denomination detection, value calculation, sorting, and counterfeit check.

Ideal for: Banks, financial institutions, and high-volume businesses.

💡 What Features Should You Look For?

When buying a Money Counting Machine, make sure it has features that suit your needs:

Speed: Look for machines that can process 1,000 to 1,500 notes per minute.

Fake Note Detection: A must-have for all businesses handling cash.

Display: A large, clear LCD/LED screen helps track counts easily.

Batch Function: Great for organizing notes into specific amounts.

Add Function: Useful for totaling multiple stacks of currency.

Noise Level: Quiet machines are best for peaceful work environments.

Dust Resistance: Extends machine life and improves performance.

📌 Real-Life Use Cases

Let’s break down how various users benefit from a Money Counter Machine:

Retail Shops: No more end-of-day counting struggles. Get accurate results in minutes.

Banks: Handle large volumes of cash with confidence and speed.

Event Managers: Count ticket collections quickly and error-free.

Educational Institutions: Simplify fee collection and counting during admission seasons.

Pharmacies and Supermarkets: Deal with multiple cash counters and ensure accurate reconciliation.

💰 So, What’s the Price?

Now that you know how helpful these machines are, let’s talk about price—because that’s usually the biggest question.

Quality Money Counting Machines in Bangladesh start from ৳21,000. Yes, for just BDT 21,000, you can have a professional-grade machine with essential features like fast counting and fake note detection.

Of course, depending on the brand, functionality, and build quality, prices may vary. Higher-end models with mixed denomination recognition and automatic sorting can cost significantly more. But for most small to medium businesses, even the base models provide incredible value.

You can check out the updated pricing and compare models on Nobarun BD’s website, a trusted supplier in the Bangladeshi market.

🔍 Top Brands Available in Bangladesh

Several brands are well-known for offering reliable and durable machines:

KINGS Power

Xinda

Gold Japan

Hisense

Hitachi

These brands provide after-sales service, warranties, and great build quality—important factors when making a business investment.

📈 Money Counting Machine Price in BD: Quick Summary

In Bangladesh, Money Counting Machines come in different types based on features and usage. Below is a clear breakdown to help you choose the right one:

1. Basic Machines: These are simple machines that only count notes. They do not detect fake currency. Best for small shops or personal use. ➡️ Starting Price: Around ৳21,000

2. Mid-Range Machines: These machines come with a fake note detector. They use UV, MG, or IR technology to detect counterfeit notes. Ideal for medium-sized businesses, offices, and clinics. ➡️ Starting Price: Around ৳30,000

3. Advanced Machines: These are high-end Currency Counting Machines that can count mixed denominations, calculate totals, and detect fakes. Suitable for banks and large organizations. ➡️ Starting Price: ৳45,000 or more

🛍️ Where to Buy One?

It’s important to buy from a reliable vendor that offers genuine products, service warranty, and after-sales support. One such place is Nobarun BD, where you can explore a wide variety of machines and select the one that matches your business requirements.

Check here 👉 https://www.nobarunbd.com/money-counting-machine-price-in-bangladesh

✅ Final Thoughts

A Money Counting Machine isn’t just a gadget—it’s an investment in speed, accuracy, and peace of mind. From detecting fake notes to saving hours of manual work, this one tool can transform your business operations.

Whether you’re a retail shop owner, a banker, or someone who deals with large amounts of cash, this machine will help streamline your workflow. And with prices starting at just ৳21,000, it’s more affordable than you think.👉 Ready to make your cash management smarter? Explore the latest models today at Nobarun BD and find the perfect Money Counting Machine for your needs!

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7 Essential Insights About Money Counting Machines

In today's fast-paced financial environments, efficiency and accuracy in handling cash are paramount. Businesses, whether large or small, rely on advanced tools to streamline operations, and a money counting machine is one such indispensable device. This article will delve into the key aspects of money counting machines, highlighting why they are crucial for businesses and how to choose the right one.

1. The Evolution of Money Counters

Money counters have come a long way from the simple mechanical devices of the past. Modern machines are equipped with advanced technologies, allowing them to handle large volumes of cash quickly and accurately. Today’s machines not only count notes but also detect counterfeit currency, making them essential tools in the retail and banking sectors. With the rise of digital transactions, the need for cash handling might seem reduced, but cash is still king in many parts of the world, making money counting machines relevant even today.

2. Types of Money Counting Machines

There are several types of money counting machines, each designed to meet different needs.

Basic Currency Counting Machines: These are straightforward devices that count the number of notes passed through them. They are ideal for businesses with a low risk of counterfeit currency and where speed is more important than accuracy.

Mix Value Counters: These advanced machines can count mixed denominations and calculate the total value of the notes. This feature is particularly useful for businesses that handle large amounts of cash in various denominations, ensuring that they don’t just count notes but also know their exact value.

Note Counting Machines with Counterfeit Detection: These machines not only count money but also check for counterfeit notes using UV, magnetic, or infrared technology. This is crucial for businesses in high-risk areas where counterfeit currency is more prevalent.

3. Why Businesses Need Currency Counting Machines

For any business handling cash transactions, time is money. Manually counting notes is not only time-consuming but also prone to human error. A money counting machine automates this process, significantly reducing the time spent on counting cash and minimizing errors. Moreover, the counterfeit detection feature in many machines ensures that businesses do not lose money by accepting fake notes.

4. Key Features to Look For

When choosing a money counting machine, there are several features to consider:

Counting Speed: Depending on the volume of cash handled daily, businesses should look for machines with varying counting speeds. High-speed machines are suitable for larger businesses, while smaller businesses may opt for slower, more affordable models.

Counterfeit Detection: As mentioned, this feature is crucial for businesses in areas where counterfeit currency is common. Ensure the machine uses multiple detection methods for the highest accuracy.

Hopper Capacity: This refers to the number of notes the machine can hold at once. Larger hoppers are better for businesses that need to count large amounts of cash quickly.

Noise Level: Some machines can be quite noisy, which can be a distraction in quieter office environments. Consider a machine with a lower noise output if this is a concern.

Portability: For businesses that require flexibility, portable money counting machines are available. These are lightweight and easy to transport, making them ideal for use at multiple locations.

5. The Cost Factor: What to Expect

The price of money counting machines varies significantly based on their features. Basic models can be quite affordable, but as you add more advanced features like counterfeit detection and mix value counting, the price increases. It's important to balance your budget with your needs, as investing in a more expensive machine can save you money in the long run by preventing losses from counterfeit notes and improving efficiency.

6. Maintenance and Durability

Money counting machines are robust devices, but like any equipment, they require regular maintenance to ensure longevity. Regular cleaning and calibration will keep your machine running smoothly and accurately. It's also wise to invest in a machine from a reputable brand that offers a good warranty and customer support.

7. Real-World Applications

In the retail sector, where cash transactions are frequent, a currency counting machine can save significant time during cash register closeouts. For banks and financial institutions, mix value counters ensure that large volumes of cash are processed accurately. Even small businesses can benefit, as these machines reduce the likelihood of errors and the labor costs associated with manual counting.

Conclusion Investing in a money counting machine is a smart move for any business that handles cash. With features like counterfeit detection, mix value counting, and high-speed processing, these machines streamline cash handling, improve accuracy, and protect your business from losses. Whether you run a small retail shop or a large financial institution, there's a currency counting machine tailored to your needs. By choosing the right machine, you can enhance efficiency and ensure the smooth operation of your cash-handling processes.

[businessindustry]

2032, Currency Count Machine Market Share, Trends by 2024-2032

The Reports and Insights, a leading market research company, has recently releases report titled “Currency Count Machine Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2024-2032.” The study provides a detailed analysis of the industry, including the global Currency Count Machine Market, size, trends, and growth forecasts. The report also includes competitor and regional analysis and highlights the latest advancements in the market.

Report Highlights:

How big is the Currency Count Machine Market?

The global currency counting machine market size reached US$ 230.2 million in 2023. Looking forward, Reports and Insights expects the market to reach US$ 360.1 million in 2032, exhibiting a growth rate (CAGR) of 5.1% during 2024-2032.

What are Currency Count Machine?

A currency counting machine is a specialized device designed to rapidly and accurately count large quantities of banknotes. It works by automatically sorting and counting bills as they move through its mechanism, often including features for detecting counterfeit notes and sorting by denomination. This technology enhances efficiency and minimizes errors compared to manual counting. Commonly used in banks, retail settings, and financial institutions, these machines may also offer additional functions such as batch counting, totaling, and report generation, making them vital for cash management and processing.

Request for a sample copy with detail analysis: https://www.reportsandinsights.com/sample-request/1960

What are the growth prospects and trends in the Currency Count Machine industry?

The currency counting machine market growth is driven by various factors and trends. The currency counting machine market is growing as the need for efficient and accurate cash management solutions rises across various industries. This growth is fueled by the demand for quicker processing and reduced errors in banks, retail stores, and financial institutions. Technological advancements, including improved counterfeit detection, enhanced bill sorting, and digital integration, are driving market expansion. Additionally, the increasing volume of cash transactions and the push for operational efficiency contribute to the market's development. Leading companies are investing in innovation and broadening their product lines to address the changing needs of customers and support ongoing market growth. Hence, all these factors contribute to currency counting machine market growth.

What is included in market segmentation?

The report has segmented the market into the following categories:

By Product Type:

Basic Currency Count Machines

Advanced Currency Count Machines

Mixed Bill Count Machines

High-capacity Currency Count Machines

Portable Currency Count Machines

Technology:

Optical Sensing Technology

Magnetic Sensing Technology

Ultraviolet (UV) Detection

Infrared (IR) Detection

Magnetic Ink (MG) Detection

End-user:

Banking Sector

Retail Sector

Commercial Sector

Gaming Sector

Hospitality Sector

Features:

Counterfeit Detection

Sorting and Batching

Value Counting

Fitness Sorting

Connectivity Options (USB, Ethernet, etc.)

Distribution Channel:

Online Retailers

Offline Retailers

Direct Sales

Distributors

Ownership Type:

Independent Ownership

Bank-owned

Capacity:

Low-capacity Machines

Medium-capacity Machines

High-capacity Machines

Sales Channel:

New Sales

Aftermarket Sales

Rental/Leasing

Price Range:

Low Range

Medium Range

High Range

Customer Type:

Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs)

Large Enterprises

Application:

Cash Centers

Retail Stores

Banks

Casinos

Hotels

Counter Type:

Single Counter

Multi-Counter

Authentication Mode:

Manual Authentication

Automated Authentication

Industry Vertical:

Financial Services

Retail and E-commerce

Gaming and Entertainment

Hospitality and Tourism

Others

Market Positioning:

Entry-level/Basic Models

Mid-level Models

Premium/High-end Models

Segmentation By Region:

North America:

United States

Canada

Europe:

Germany

United Kingdom

France

Italy

Spain

Russia

Poland

BENELUX

NORDIC

Rest of Europe

Asia Pacific:

China

Japan

India

South Korea

ASEAN

Australia & New Zealand

Rest of Asia Pacific

Latin America:

Brazil

Mexico

Argentina

Rest of Latin America

Middle East & Africa:

Saudi Arabia

South Africa

United Arab Emirates

Israel

Egypt

Rest of MEA

Who are the key players operating in the industry?

The report covers the major market players including:

Giesecke+Devrient

Glory Ltd.

Cummins Allison

Delarue

Cassida Corporation

Kisan Electronics

Laurel Bank Machines

Innovative Technology Ltd.

BCash Electronics

AccuBANKER

Billcon Corporation

Semacon

Klopp Coin Counter

Magner Corporation

Royal Sovereign International

View Full Report: https://www.reportsandinsights.com/report/Currency Count Machine-market

If you require any specific information that is not covered currently within the scope of the report, we will provide the same as a part of the customization.

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