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[dwmoveoutcleaning]

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[heather646]

Professional/Personal Assistant

[whateveriwant]

The 141 holding their baby for the first time

Can be read as a part 2 to this

Price

This man is so eager to hold his child for the first time, he almost doesn't wait for the nurses to clean him off first. So what if his son is covered in all sorts of blood and gunk? John has dealt with a lot worse before, trust him

So when he has to wait for the little one to be cleaned and then weighed and then dressed first, John almost steams from his ears he's so frustrated

Oh but the moment his child is finally placed in his arms, he just absolutely melts. Goes from a menacing grizzly bear to a harmless stuffed plushie in two seconds flat

With one hand supporting his bottom and the other curving along his back, John gently holds his son for the very first time. As he looks at the boy in his arms – his eyes, his lips, his little button nose – John feels a tickle behind his eyes, and he's quick to blink the tears away before they can form

He sniffs back his emotions and caresses the top of your son's head. “Hairy little bloke, ain't he?” he jokes, referring to the full head of hair the tyke's already been blessed with

Well, what does he expect when he has a werewolf for a father? Your jest gets John to chuckle lowly, muttering to the boy, “Just like your daddy, eh?”

He places the baby against the crook of his neck and softly pats him on the back, bouncing up and down ever so slightly. And when his son lets out a great big burp, John and you share a laugh. “Yeah, just like your daddy.”

Ghost

One thing Simon prides himself on is his sense of humility – knowing when his services are needed and when they aren't. In this instance, as the nurses flit around with his son, he knows it's the latter situation, so he waits patiently off to the side as he lets them work

Though he's sidelined, Simon watches like a hawk as his little boy moves about the room. Every hand-off, every measurement taken, it's all done under the careful eye of his father

But despite how cool he may appear on the outside, inside his heart is pounding, and that only increases as a nurse finally approaches him with his child in her hands

Simon goes to take the baby from her, stretching his arms out, but before the transfer is made, he remembers something. Quickly, he reaches up and strips the cloth mask from his face. He knows the little one doesn't have good eyesight yet, but first impressions and all that, right?

With the utmost caution, Simon takes his son into his arms, putting him in the crook of his elbow like a rugby player holding a ball. He feels like a giant as he holds the tiny boy against him. Like an ant compared to an elephant, he thinks to himself

Despite his size though, Simon is so delicate with his son, treating him like he's made of glass. He tucks him more firmly against his chest, and as the little one naturally snuggles closer, Simon can't help the smile it brings to his face

Rocking back and forth slightly, Simon tries to lull the boy to sleep. Unfortunately, his little cheek rubbing against Simon's chest has the opposite effect, and he begins to mouth at his pec, having accidentally triggered his rooting reflex

“Oh, he's…,” Simon mutters awkwardly, realizing what he's just done. He hears you giggle from your spot on your bed, and that makes him chuckle to himself. “Think he's hungry,” he says before handing the baby over to you

Gaz

From the moment Kyle laid eyes on his son, it was love at first sight. Even though he was filthy, wrinkly, and had a conehead to end all coneheads, Kyle was immediately smitten with the boy the moment he first saw him

He carefully trails after the nurses as they go about cleaning him/taking his measurements, not wanting to get in the way but wanting to stay close

Despite his watchfulness, however, when his son is finally offered to him, Kyle immediately freezes. His arms feel like they're locked down by his sides, like there's some kind of invisible force preventing him from reaching out and taking him

Though he's been preparing for this moment for months, when it's finally time to do it, he finds that he's scared. Scared to hurt him, to drop him, to do something wrong. He has to take a deep breath as he plucks up the courage, then has the nurse hand over his son

And the second the boy is placed in Kyle's arms, the tears he hadn't managed to shed during the delivery start streaming anew. “H-Hi, baby. Hi,” Kyle sobs, masterfully holding his son in one hand as he uses the other to wipe his tears away. “I'm your daddy.”

Though there's still a flurry of activity going on around them, it's like time seems to slow as Kyle admires the little boy in his arms. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the top of his son's head, holding his lips there as he inhales that sweet scent emanating from him

When he finally pulls back, he brushes another tear away, flashing a bright smile as he chuckles wetly to himself. Yep, he's in love alright. Truly, deeply in love

Soap

Johnny feels sluggish as he slowly wakes back up. It takes some effort for him to peel his eyes open, and when he does, he then groggily takes in his surroundings

He's slumped in some stiff hospital chair. Why? Oh, wait. He thinks he remembers. He was here to watch the birth of his first child, but the last thing he remembers was seeing a whole lot of red, and then everything went black

Johnny looks around the room for a moment until he realizes you're sitting in the bed across from him. He stands with a grunt, rubbing his forehead as he walks over to you. “What'd I miss?” he asks as approaches your bed

He notices something in your arms, but it's not until he gets close that he realizes what exactly. That isn't just any little bundle in your arms. That's your son you're holding

He finds he's frozen to his spot as you answer his question. Other than the birth? Not much. Just the first feeding… and the first burping… and the first swaddling

Johnny's lip threatens to tremble as he listens to you list off all the things he missed because he'd passed out. But when you ask in he wants to hold his son, all that sorrow immediately vanishes

Now, Johnny's held a lot of babies in his years (it comes with being part of the MacTavish clan), but there's something different this time as you pass the little boy to him. As Johnny looks at the baby in his arms – his baby – he realizes this is the most perfect, most beautiful, most amazing, angelic, awe-inspiringly wonderful–

There's the sound of a small whine followed quickly by a loud squish, and suddenly, the bum cradled in his hands feels about 2x heavier. The realization hits you before it does Johnny, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you

Congrats, daddy-o! Looks like he woke up just in time for the first nappy change

[shotmrmiller]

im thinking of you, who's a doctor that's been taken hostage by some bandits under the pretense of needing you for a house call for their elderly family member. they had paid for your services preemptively as well.

it's my ma, see. she's got a real bad cough and says her chest hurts somethin' fierce.

you clumsily hop on their horse and let them take you to where she supposedly is, except instead of a quaint, little home they take you to some delapilated wooden shack. before you even get to ask any sort of question, there's the barrel of a gun pressed firmly against your spine.

you heal the man inside, and if he dies, so do you.

this is the only time that you fully regret going to school for medicine, instead of marrying that sheltered rich man like how your father had originally wanted for you.

after searching your coat pockets for the money they had given you earlier, they harshly nudge you toward the roughly hewn wooden door that's barely hanging onto the frame by the hinges.

only to come face to face with a broken, bloody man. and what's worse is that you've seen him before on wanted posters. he's an infamous gunslinger, one so dangerous not even the police want him captured alive, simply dealt with. he's got a hefty $1000 bounty on his masked head. his name is said like a curse among lawmen and the general population alike and he's been evading the hand of justice for years, in and out of sight like a phantom. ghost.

he sat tied to a chair, coarse rope so tight around his body you could see it biting into his bruised skin. blood ran in rivulets down his painfully obvious broken nose, his thin split lip swollen and raw. bruises bloomed on his dirt-streaked cheeks, blonde stubble stained crimson. his breath left him in ragged, wet gasps. your purpose here is clear.

their torture has done nothing to break the man in front of you, so they want you to keep him alive until he does.

his sunken, dark eyes follow your every move— as you shrug off your coat, roll up your sleeves, and reach into your medical briefcase for gloves.

your hands tremble with fear and urgency as they reach for the blood-soaked tattered remains of his shirt and pull it up to assess the damage.

"how unfortunate for you and for me that it doesn't seem like you were hit near anything vital." he remains silent and unresistant as you get to work; breath hitching and jaw clenching only when you dabbed a wet, clean rag on his open wounds. you can feel his gaze on your sweat-slick skin, unwavering.

god only knows how long you're to be kept here, captive, just like him.

(his gang comes to save him eventually, and because you were so useful simon tells price that you're a doctor, and a damn good one. "her talents could come to use in the future." price looks at you sparingly, hardened blue eyes resembling ice. he gives him the go-ahead, and now you're taken captive. again. and what's worse, simon simply hog-ties you and stows you in the back of his horse, like a hunter does the pelts of his game.)

[libingan]

— tf141 calling you “ma’am.”

no smut, only fluff

JOHN PRICE

you’re preparing for a cozy movie night and have a specific vision in mind. you turn to john with a list of tasks. “john, could you move that armchair closer to the middle? i want to make sure we get enough light for our movie marathon,” you instruct.

john flashes a playful grin and replies, “yes, ma’am.” he lifts the armchair with ease, carefully positioning it just where you want it. he checks it from different angles to ensure it’s perfect, making sure the light hits just right. once he’s satisfied, he looks over with a smile. “what’s next, ma’am?”

you direct him to arrange the snacks. “the popcorn goes on the left side of the table, and the chips on the right. make it look inviting,” you say. john nods, his focus clearly on creating the perfect setup. “on it, ma’am,” he says, arranging each item with meticulous care.

after setting up the snacks, you notice the pillows on the couch look a bit out of place. “can you fluff these pillows a bit more? i want them to look just right,” you request. john chuckles softly and responds, “absolutely, ma’am,” as he fluffs each pillow to perfection. he checks and re-checks their placement, making sure they’re exactly how you like them.

as you think of more details to perfect the evening, you ask him to adjust the drinks. “the drinks need to be kept on one side, can you do that ?” john adjusts the drinks with a practiced hand, saying, “yes, ma’am.”

by the time you’re done with all the adjustments, john has followed your directions to the letter. his willingness to accommodate your every request highlights his affection and dedication to making the evening special for you.

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

you’re preparing for a shopping trip and have gathered a large number of items. you turn to kyle with a stack of bags and hand him the first one. “kyle, can you hold onto this for me?” you ask, passing him the first bag.

“yes, ma’am,” kyle replies with a grin, taking the bag from you. as you continue to collect more items, you hand him another. “and this one too, please.”

kyle shifts the bags to balance them better and responds, “yes, ma’am,” taking the new item with ease. you keep adding more bags, and each time, kyle responds with a cheerful “yes, ma’am,” as he adjusts his hold.

after a while, you’ve accumulated quite a stack of bags and packages. you hand him a few more smaller items, each time asking him to hold onto them. “i’ve got a few more things,” you say, handing over the last items.

“yes, ma’am,” kyle says, adjusting his grip to accommodate the new load. despite the growing pile of bags, he maintains a good-natured demeanor. “anything else you need me to carry, ma’am?” he asks with a smile. his readiness to help shows his enjoyment in being of service to you.

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

you’ve caught johnny leaving dirty dishes around the kitchen and decide it’s time for a chat. “johnny, we need to talk about cleaning up after yourself,” you say, trying to keep it light-hearted.

johnny looks a bit sheepish but responds with a nod. “aye, alright, ma’am,” he says, picking up a plate and heading to the sink. he starts rinsing off the remnants of his meal, scrubbing the plate with a determined focus.

as he works, you continue the conversation. “you know, johnny, leaving dishes everywhere makes more work for everyone.” johnny nods, scrubbing away. “aye, i ken, ma’am,” he replies, giving the plate a final rinse before moving on to the next one.

you notice a few utensils left behind. “don’t forget to wash the utensils too,” you remind him. johnny looks up with a grin and says, “aye, i’ll get tae it, ma’am,” as he tackles the utensils with the same thoroughness.

once he’s done with the dishes, you point out some crumbs on the counter. “and don’t forget to wipe down the counters,” you add. johnny grabs a cloth and starts cleaning, his tone still light-hearted. “got it, ma’am,” he replies as he meticulously wipes down every surface.

as he finishes up, you mention the floor needs sweeping. “the floor needs to be swept too,” you say. johnny grabs the broom and starts sweeping. “anything else ye need, ma’am?” he asks with a playful tone, clearly taking your instructions to heart while maintaining a light-hearted approach.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

you’re relaxing on the couch, lost in a book, when simon quietly enters the room with a tray. “i thought you might need this, ma’am,” he says softly, setting down a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table next to you.

you take a sip and smile, feeling the warmth of the tea. “this is perfect, simon. thank you,” you say, feeling content. simon sits down beside you, his presence comforting. “how’s the tea, ma’am?” he asks, his tone gentle and caring.

“it’s exactly what i needed,” you reply. simon’s eyes light up, clearly pleased with his little gesture. “is there anything else you need, ma’am?” he asks, eager to ensure your comfort.

if you mention needing a blanket, simon immediately gets up, retrieves it, and drapes it over you. “here you go, ma’am,” he says, adjusting it to make sure you’re snug. if you ask for anything else, such as adjusting the lighting or fetching a remote, simon is quick to respond.

“just let me know if there’s anything else, ma’am,” he says each time, his voice filled with genuine attentiveness. whether it’s adjusting the room temperature or fetching a book, he shows his dedication to ensuring you’re completely comfortable.

[reasonsforhope]

We’ve just taken a major step toward cleaning up space junk.

On Monday, October 2, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) in the US issued its first fine for space debris, ordering the US TV provider Dish to pay $150,000 for failing to move one of its satellites into a safe orbit. 

“It is definitely a very big symbolic moment for debris mitigation,” says Michelle Hanlon, a space lawyer at the University of Mississippi. “It’s a great step in the right direction.”

But it might be more than just a symbolic gesture by the FCC. Not only does it set a precedent for tackling bad actors who leave dangerous junk orbiting Earth, but it could send shock waves through the industry as other satellite operators become wary of having their reputation tarnished. While the $150,000 FCC fine was modest, Dish’s share price fell by nearly 4% immediately following its announcement, pushing the company’s $3 billion valuation down about $100 million.

The FCC’s action could also help breathe new life into the still-small market for commercial removal of space debris, essentially setting a price—$150,000—for companies such as Astroscale in Japan and ClearSpace in Switzerland to aim for in providing services that use smaller spacecraft to sidle up to dead satellites or rockets and pull them back into the atmosphere...

Another hope is that the FCC’s fine will encourage other countries to follow suit with their own enforcement actions on space junk. “It sends a message out of America taking leadership in this area,” says Newman. “This is starting the ball rolling.”

Today there are more than 8,000 active satellites, nearly 2,000 dead satellites, and hundreds of empty rockets orbiting Earth. Managing these objects and preventing collisions is a huge task, and one that is becoming increasingly difficult as the number of satellites grows rapidly. The worsening situation is largely due to mega-constellations of hundreds or thousands of satellites from companies like SpaceX and Amazon, designed to beam the internet to any corner of the globe...

Hanlon says there are further measures that could be taken to discourage companies from failing to dispose of satellites properly. “Honestly, I would love to see that if you don’t meet your license requirements, you’re banned from launching for a number of years,” she says. “If you’re driving under the influence you can have your license revoked. These are the kinds of measures we need to see.”

Chris Johnson, a space law advisor at the Secure World Foundation in the US, says the loss of reputation for Dish about the satellite situation might be worse than any fine it could have received. “They promised to remove it and they didn’t,” he says. “It’s like the first operator of a car to get a speeding ticket.”

The fall in the company’s share price appears to be indicative of that reputational damage. The fine may not have been as severe as it could have been, but the FCC’s actions can be seen as a warning to other companies to tackle space junk. “This is going to be on their record and their reputation,” says Johnson. “It’s not trivial.”

-via MIT Technology Review, October 5, 2023

Always nice to see steps taken to tackle a problem BEFORE it causes incredibly massive issues

[flowerfreya]

A lowlevel mafia man took my baby!

All fics masterlist

This is really just for fun lol. CW:Kidnapping Reader is in debt to a mafia boss (not Price) and when the low level mafia men come in with Price's baby , the reader makes a decision

“You took who?”, you exclaim.

“James Puck”, the dumbasses say. They look over at you like you’re the one being annoying. They are holding what looks to be a three year old boy, dressed in a mini-suit, like they just took him from church service. He is the calmest baby you have ever seen. He’s just looking around, observing everything, and soon he’s going to figure out that his father is not here. And he’s going to throw a fit. 

“Why?” , you ask. Like who’s dumbass idea was this. Taking a mob boss's son in the middle of the day is not the smartest idea. At.all. 

“What the boss wanted”, they shrug. God you hate it here. 

You got dopped into being across this empire by accident and maybe by desperation. You really needed money,so you signed your life away. At least only for three years. You’ve been doing odd jobs at the house for the past two years, just cleaning up and picking up groceries. You haven’t been paid since you were because according to your “boss”, you’re paying off your debt, you know it’s bullshit but the way your credit was looking you wouldn’t have gotten a loan for the amount you needed. 

The baby starts crying an hour later , dumb and dumbass look flustered. The are holding it like they don’t know what to do with him. 

They look over to you, “you're a woman, you know what to do”, handing you the child, and then walking out.

You automatically feel that his diaper is wet and probably has been for a long time and he’s probably hungry too. Inside the kitchen , you look in the pantry to see if there is anything that he can eat , that hopefully won’t cause any allergic reaction if he has any. 

“Here comes the airplane”, the spoon coming from up high and a brmmmmm making James giggle. 

You’ve been trying to distract James for the past three hours and nothing is working. You’ve tried to hold in sitting on the couch, walking around with him, even giving him some warm milk. Nothing is working. 

From upstairs you hear your boss yell, “shut him up!”. 

You roll your eyes, “Oh, I’ll shut him up alright”. Then you come up with another idea. Maybe you could just return him.

~

Muttering to yourself as you try to sneak out of the compound is a bit of an issue. The kid won’t stop crying and it’s going to alert them if you can’t shut him up. 

You're not really a mothering type. You're probably holding the baby wrong and the diaper is on backwards. 

“What do I need to do for you to be quiet”, you say to the baby. Like it will talk to you when it cries in an answer, you nod to the baby, “I should have known that”. 

You just start moving as quickly as possible thinking …maybe if you move fast enough people will think it's an animal crossing in the night. 

Finally getting past the gate and getting on the main road , you start just walking along the road, hoping that the 141 gang is just driving around looking for the mob boss's baby. Hearing a car coming fast down the road and skrrrting next to you. 

“Oi!!”, you look over and see a man with a skull mask holding a gun and of course it's pointed at you. You mean you're not surprised, since you're the one walking around with James Puck Price. 

“Hi”, you lower yourself so you can see through the window and do a small wave, ”I think I have what your baby”, and then you lift up the baby, so he can see him. 

“Get in the fucking car”, he growls at you. 

“Yeah , of course”, you slide into the back of the car. Looking around, “Do you have a car seat or anything”, pointing to the child, “we do have a baby in here”. 

Looking at you through the rearview mirror, “that is the least of your worries” ,he says.

[auspicioustidings]

Kiss in Payment

Summary: Continuation of Services/Goods of Equivalent Value. You have opened a teashop near an off record military base and this is a bunch of snippets of your life there.

Words: 7.5k (HOW?!)

You hadn't slept in a real bed in so long and you were not prepared to get out of it. It smelled good and it was warm and you were tired right down to your bones from all the work of the past 6 months finally culminating in the busiest and happiest evening you had possibly ever had. Only half awake you nuzzled into the pillow with a happy little sigh of contented comfort.

"Feels better than sleeping in a chair doesn't it?"

At first you smiled sleepily and made a sound of agreement. And then your brain caught up and you shot up, eyes opening and darting around madly to find you were in a small, simple bedroom and Simon was sat in the chair in the corner, book in hand being dogeared and set on a little table now that you were awake.

You had seen most of his face before when he was drinking or eating so seeing the whole thing wasn't any more of a shock than the situation you had found yourself in. It was a little strange seeing the skin around his eyes cleaned and bright, no smudges of black. He looked softer like this you thought.

"I um, I don't um… ah ha I must have fallen asleep in the chair right? Must have just been so tired! You didn't have to move me, but thanks, it wouldn't have been good for me to sleep there right? Ha ha."

God you were adorable when you tried to lie. Heart was far too prominent on your sleeve for it to ever work. You were clearly flustered way more from trying to lie than from waking up in his bed and such a fondness settled in him knowing that you trusted him so easily. You trusted that he had carried you here to help, that he would never have done anything to hurt you. 

"Gaz would have carried you to your bed, but come to think of it there doesn't seem like any sort of bedroom in your shop."

Was he teasing to watch you scramble to try and explain yourself? Maybe a little, sue him.

"Oh right! It's in… the basement, it's in the basement."

You had a nanosecond of being relieved you had thought up a lie so quickly before being horrified at what a bad lie it was. What if they wanted to go into the non-existent basement now? But you had gotten away with it for now and you relaxed as Simon just nodded with an "Ah, of course, the basement". 

Maybe you were good at this whole lying thing!

When it was time to get up and get a ride back home to the shop Simon got the little tub of eye black to smear on. You took it from him and started dabbing it on with your fingers for him since he had let you sleep in his bed. 

"It's like finger painting" you grinned, sitting back to admire your work.

He took your hand in his before you could fully withdraw it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that had the tips of your ears on fire. You gave him a wide eyed stare in question.

"Services/goods of equivalent value remember? This one was worth at least a few days of moving furniture."

You smiled shyly, thinking he meant applying the eye black for him. Simon let you think that, knowing himself that the payment he was taking was being able to press his lips to your skin.

-

You felt your lie was under attack when, after being driven back to your shop by Price with Soap in tow, they started talking about your basement as they helped you with all the dishes from the night before.

"Didn't you help with a lot of the building Soap? Going to have to give you extra observation training, missing a whole basement."

"Och Captain dinnae, ye know that training is the worst! I'll do better next time, ye'r spot on that it's unacceptable for me to miss something like that."

Oh the way you went dead silent while you scrubbed at a plate, clearly being eaten alive by guilt. It was cute up until you genuinely seemed in distress, and although it was fun to tease Johnny was thankful when Price laid off.

"Ah I'm only taking the piss Sergeant, easy thing to miss in an old place like this."

Some of the tension bled from your shoulders and oh if Soap didn't suddenly remember the little shy kiss you pressed to his cheek the night before. Such a sweet thing, genuinely getting upset at the idea he might have to do training because of a lie you told to protect yourself. As if him and Gaz didn't lie all the time to try and get one another in trouble just for the hell of it.

"Opening is in an hour aye? Think we could get a wee out of hours tea?" Soap asked.

You dried off your hands, smiling brightly now. Making tea always made you forget all your worries and you were wildly delighted that confessed coffee person Soap was the one asking. You went straight to work, grabbing and typing off your apron and throwing your hair up. 

Price and Soap shared a conspiring look as they watched you work. They had gotten good at speaking without words. Right now their look was saying "isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw? I think I might scream if she does one more cute thing."

With the tea steeping you sighed in contentment, jumping a little when Price's hand found the small of your back. You hadn't even realised he was so close, for such a big man he was so light on his feet! He tapped a finger to his cheek.

"Think helping wash one load of dishes works as equivalent value."

You popped onto your tip toes and planted a soft peck to his cheek and as Soap bounded forward for the same Price shoved him away with a grin.

"Got payment in advance last night if I recall Soap, can't have our favourite girl overpaying."

-

Price and Soap left just as you officially opened for the day, but to your soft delight already Horangi and Farah were waiting outside for the sign to be flipped. They were bundled up, must have walked over. Now that you knew the distance from here to the base it made you swell with pride to know they had made the trip on foot. 

"Two of ye are here awful early naw?"

"Is there a problem with that MacTavish?" Horangi asked with a smirk, suspecting that the problem was Soap was about to leave you alone with him and Farah.

He had thought it would only be him, everyone else using their morning to work out and get fed. Obviously Farah had the same idea though, both of them feeling a sense of challenge from the other. He was sure you would like learning to make his Korean sweets over her Urzik ones. 

"Course naw, always happy tae see paying customers for my girl here" he responded, clearly proud of himself for managing to find a subtle way to tell Horangi and Farah to back off because you were his.

Farah raised an eyebrow at Price when he smirked at Soap's little claim and his lip twitched slightly. The exchange was barely noticeable and yet the unspoken conversation had went something like this:

"Really John? She's a little young for you is she not?"

"Really Farah, what would Alex say?"

"Me and Alex have always been very good at sharing, ask Gaz."

"Don't remember you being this much of a brat Karim."

Farah thought it was a shame you had been subject to all these boorish men for so long. Soft, sweet thing like you deserved some soft and sweet companionship. She had hoped that she could get to know you while teaching you how to make the halva she had fed you bites of last night any time you had paused in your hectic running about to pour her tea.

You had been very complimentary of the simple sweet, wanting to know all about the cultural history of it. Farah was no stranger to the uncomfortable looks she got when she would pour her heart out about her passion for her home country. She had half expected you to nod politely and excuse yourself. Only you hadn't, you had been genuinely and unabashedly happy at how passionate she was about her home, eyes sparkling with interest as you made her promise that she'd visit again and tell you more.

Of course Hong-jin would be equally as fond of you, she had spied how he had made you try a bite of bukkumi and how he had cried laughing when it was chewier than you expected and you had bitten your tongue. That giant beside him had acted as if you were mortally wounded until you had calmed him down and Farah was observant if nothing else, she had seen how your easy way with the larger man had Hong-jin simmering with fondness. 

Price and Soap realised they couldn't very well stay without it being obvious they were only doing so to stop Farah and Horangi from being left to work their charms on you, so with a grumble they departed.

You were honestly a little nervous about your first real customers after opening day, but you thought you did a great job of hiding it and welcoming them inside.

Farah and Horangi could both tell you were nervous, it was glaringly obvious, so an unspoken pact was made that they would only compete with each other in ways that you wouldn't notice so wouldn't make you anxious.

An hour later and you were so delighted that they had been kind enough and patient enough to teach you how to make the sweets they had bought the night before, oblivious to the amount of sabotage and subterfuge in the silent war between your two customers. 

Still they did eventually have to admit defeat, they were due in meetings and couldn't stay forever. You squeaked and shook your head rapidly when they tried to pay for their drinks.

"Oh no please, you were both so wonderful to have shared your recipes with me! Think of this as payment for that."

"I already said I would teach you did I not? Of course I have to pay properly for the tea you made me."

“It would be very rude not to, I can pay for both of our teas.”

“No no, I can pay for both. After all you are technically a guest with the 141 aren't you?”

“As are you.”

“Oh I would say more a long distance member. Actually since this is so near the 141 base and you've been so good to the team, I'd say that makes you basically an honorary member!”

“Oh! That's such an honour for you to say Farah, it's more that the team has been good to me though” you explained in a rush, a pretty flush of colour dusting your cheeks.

“Ah but you also have adopted the little cat with us, so it makes you more a member of Kortac than anything else.”

“I think Herzogin adopted me, she just came in one day and decided to make herself at home and I couldn't say no” you said, now feeling so flustered there must be steam coming out of your ears.

There was something so touching about what they were saying even if it was light hearted and meant more as a joke you thought. Even the thought of somehow being a part of their lives, some little silly civilian branch of their teams, made your hummingbird heart flutter.

It was also very sweet how they both wanted to cover each others bill even though you really could not let them go unrewarded for teaching you their recipes. They must be quite close these two teams. Definitely not two people who had only properly met last night and were now locked in a bitter rivalry over you or anything.

“But regardless I need to repay you somehow for the lessons! Don't make me start pulling out a contract again” you laughed.

When they asked you explained about your hastily written contract with Soap, how it had kept expanding after that. You even showed them the copy as messy as it was.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so. 

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**and any members of the Los Vaqueros team*** 

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed”

It didn't feel much like a contract anymore what with Simon's messy scrawl and the massive pen stroke from when Soap had shoved Rudy as he was trying to add his addendum. But it always made you smile to look at.

You thought your heart might burst when they both very reverently take turns adding their own addendums on.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.******

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**along with any members of the Los Vaqueros team*** 

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141*****

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed

*****including Farah Karim and Alex Keller who shall be deemed members TF141 for the purposes of this contract.******

*****Any works or services carried out by members of Kortac PMC (inclusive of Herzogin) are to be subject to the same terms of payment as above.”

After that they both paid in full for all the tea meaning you were left blustering about the double payment. And when before they left they pressed a kiss to your cheek, sandwiching you between them for a moment, you were sure you have melted right into the floor.

“That's your debt settled for the recipe” Farah teased as her and Horangi left.

–

You spent the day warmed by the smattering of visitors. Some drove out, some made the trip on foot, Gaz stopped by in the middle of his run and the sight of him shirtless and sweaty made you scald yourself when you accidentally overpoured and splashed hot tea over your hand.

“Ouch luv, c'mere and let me see” he said, immediately taking your hand delicately in both of his strong ones to do a quick inspection and then leading you over to the sink to run it under cold water.

“It's not that bad” you hissed as the water hit, it was freezing and you were really just trying to get out of having to hold it there for 10 minutes.

“Hush, don't know how deep it's went so need to make sure it cools down properly.”

You didn't feel like you were cooling down with his naked torso right there beside you, one hand still holding yours and the other resting absentmindedly on your waist. All of these customers of yours really would be the death of you.

You huffed a little and stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he was right but not liking it one bit. He laughed at you and gave you a light little headbutt into your hair, the easy affection making you smile despite yourself. You smiling made him smile and it was as always like looking at the sun when this man smiled. So much so you did not even hear the door go until you were crowded by another body, the new arrival slotting against your other side in a mirror of Gaz and sighing.

“What happened here then princess?” 

Gaz narrowed his eyes at Alex albeit playfully at the pet name, feeling his pinky brush again his hand now also settling in on you.

“Ah just clumsy! Not a very good omen to be spilling tea on the second day huh?”

“You know Ghost and Soap once got so drunk they passed out on the sofa and we found them all tangled up the next morning, said they must have moved in their sleep.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that, blinking up at Alex who was only grinning back at you.

“There now, we've both spilled tea, so I can take all the bad omens off of you.”

Goddamnit, Kyle always forgot how stupidly handsome and charming Keller was. Even being right in your space shirtless, having been meticulous in his work out this morning to ensure his body would look just right to get you flustered, you weren't even looking at him anymore. Too busy giving a soft smile to the American playboy. Well if you can't beat them…

You jumped when you felt Kyle's breath right at your ear. He had leaned over a little to join the conversation but it meant he was even closer than before and it was suddenly very, very warm. 

“Just to make sure though, Keller here will deny it ever happened but he once kissed a man right in front of his girlfriend! Right scandalous if you ask me. How's that for tea?”

“i-in front of your girlfriend?!” you asked, somewhat in shock that this man who had been nothing but sweet to you was a cheater. 

“As I recall, my girlfriend was the one that put in the request” he laughed, seeing your look of suspicion and softening. “I promise she was happy about it princess, we've always been open to sharing.”

Him and Gaz shared a look then, both obviously noticing that you were probably about to faint from the no doubt tame (scandalous in your head) images the idea of sharing was conjuring. While it was very endearing the way you reacted, the thump thump thumping of your heart almost perceptible, they couldn't find it within themselves to tease you more. Sweet little thing like you deserved better.

“Come on luv, let's get it dried off and wrapped up.”

Kyle lifted your hand away from the cold water and you realised they had completely distracted you from the discomfort. You wondered if it had been on purpose as he took you over to one of the stools and made you sit while Alex fished out the first aid box.

“Oh, how did you know where that was?”

“Military princess, reckon about everyone scoped out the exits, fire extinguisher and first aid kit last night. Laswell had me order some safety signs for express delivery, should arrive today actually.”

“Oh I didn't even think! How much did it cost? I’ll pay you for them straight away.”

Kyle sighed as he wrapped your hand, knowing exactly what was about to happen and not able to think of one reason to stop it. Besides, it's not like he didn't think you and Alex looked cute together and he didn't even bother to hide his grin of disbelief at how outrageous Keller was when he caressed your face.

“Farah said we could get a kiss in payment as long as it was an equivalent value. Would a kiss be OK princess?”

You didn't really remember nodding even though you had, but you were pretty sure you'd remember Alex Keller pressing a heart achingly soft kiss to your lips as long as you lived. You felt like your brain was flowing with syrup when he laughed lightly and fondly after kissing you, like he was happy he got to do it. 

“Medical fees as well luv, yeah?”

And then you were nodding and Kyle Garrick was kissing you while Alex still had one hand on your cheek and everything was a little too hot and overwhelming. 

Thankfully both men were merciful and didn't mention it when you blinked back into consciousness from fainting onto the counter. If Gaz had had to scream into Alex's shoulder because of how adorable he found it, well they didn't mention that either.

–

You were in trouble now. Kate Laswell was giving you a look that you were sure meant she could read your mind. 

“You're not in trouble, but you need to tell me the truth. Why were you staying at the base last night?”

Of course Laswell knew, she knew everything about everyone. You were the kind of soft she knew it was easy for hard soldiers to love, but if she thought for a second that one of the 141 had taken you to bed last night she was inclined to use them for shooting practice. You had been dead on your feet after opening day, not in any fit state for clandestine meetings.

Plus she felt protective over you, maybe a little possessive. You reminded her fiercely of her wife and she had already called her last night to tell her about you, suggesting they make the time to visit together when work was less hectic for her.

“Oh I-” you paused, desperately hoping you were not going to get anyone into trouble but itching to tell this woman the truth, “they found me asleep in one of the chairs so instead of waking me they let me use one of the beds. It was my fault for falling asleep where I did! They were just being kind.”

“Why didn’t the move you to your own bed?” Kate asked with a long suffering sigh. It would be just like the 141 to jump to the extreme option.

“It's um, they didn't know where it was.”

Kate had scoped out the place last night without crossing a line into snooping, but she had thought the door next to the stove would be a bedroom. The boys would have known that though, Price said Riley and MacTavish had helped a lot with construction and moving furniture. So either she was really going to have to leather them for taking you back to base when your bed was right there, or the room was a storage space.

“And where is that?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you sleep?”

“Oh hang on, I'll get you another cup!”

Kate watched you stumble away with the poor excuse of getting the pot to pour another cup of tea for her. Her teacup was still half full. And she was indeed going to have to skin the 141 alive. How did it take them so long to figure out that you didn’t have a proper place to sleep? The quiet fury she felt at thinking how long you had been curling up on one of the chairs surprised her for only a moment before she let it settle in. Kate Laswell had always been very good at quickly identifying who she considered her people and her knack of it hadn’t let her down yet. 

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

You froze as you were reaching for the teapot. 

“I-i the basement? Since I got the place.”

Kate was well aware there was not a basement, not unless there was a magical hidden hatch to it. Even if she hadn’t been 99% certain, the fact that you were the worst liar she had ever encountered and the look of alarm she saw on Alejandro’s face as he slid through the door gave her assurance she was right. The question at this point was how to gentle you into telling her what was going on and why you didn’t have somewhere to sleep. She wished her wife were here, between the two of them she was more the people person. 

“Try again cariño, there is no basement in this building.”

Your ruse was rapidly falling apart with Alejandro now here as well. You had been so sure you had gotten away with it as well, and you were just stuck to the spot gaping trying to get your brain to come up with some sort of excuse. 

“Well um, I know I said basement but I- the thing is maybe it’s just a plan to have a basement. Right. That’s what I meant, that I’m going to put in a basement and have a bed there. Yeah. And that means that right now I don’t have one. A basement I mean, or uh, yeah a bed. But it’s totally fine, that chair by the fire is super comfortable and it’s not that bad for my back and Herzogin likes being able to curl in my lap anyway and actually I really like it because the blanket would be a little too small if I was all stretched out anyway and-”

Alejandro had known you long enough to see when your brain was absolutely catching fire. It was one of the things he loved because he knew he was always able to calm you down and it made him feel overwhelmingly content whenever he did. Right now though he at least wished your brain was catching fire over something small like offering him a new type of tea or short circuiting when Rudy had poured water over himself to cool down in the summer (Ale had nearly throttled him, little shit had known what he was doing) and not over something that made him want to smuggle you home to Mexico and make sure you never wanted for anything ever again. 

He could put aside his own feelings right now though, walking over and enveloping you in a warm hug, squeezing just the right amount to make your words trail off and your brain slow down now that it felt safe and comfortable. You clung to him almost instantly, burying your head in his chest and fighting tears. You were so embarrassed to be caught, it made you feel like you couldn’t look after yourself at all.

It wasn’t that you had meant for it to all work out this way, but you were chasing a dream and you sort of came second to that. Last night you had finally made it and it had been better than you ever dared hope, it had been beyond perfect. You hadn’t even thought to include your own comfort in that dream of yours, and now when you really thought about how you had been living it all caught up and made you feel awful and exhausted. 

“There come on now, it’s ok” Alejandro said softly, leaning a cheek against your hair and sharing a look with Kate, “we’re going to make sure you’re looked after ok? Just until we can sort something a little more permanent out for you.”

“I couldn’t, I don’t… I just need a little time to save up and I can get stuff” you sniffled, doing your best to keep it together.

You were fully out of money, last night had made a small fortune but that needed to go towards overdue bills and restocking. It was enough that you would be in the clear at least, and then you could actually start saving if you managed to make any profit. You wanted to say you could survive a few more cold nights, but now that it had finally hit you, that you had spent a night in a warm, cosy bed, you didn’t know that you could. 

Alejandro just hushed soothingly at you, petting your hair and letting you cry it out. He knew for a fact Kate was taking advantage of knowing he would not do anything right now that was not solely with the purpose of your comfort in mind, he could see her typing away on her phone and glancing at him as if to say “I’m going to make sure she’s looked after, but it’s nice that you can distract her while I do that I suppose.”

Would he say he was happy when Nikolai showed up to whisk you off to a B&B for the night? Mixed feelings really. He was happy that you would spend the night safe and warm nearby. He was furious it wasn’t going to be with him. And then that vanished when he melted fully to a puddle as you darted quickly back after locking up and saying goodbye to them to nervously press a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the contract that I should repay you for things. I hope this works to repay you for being so kind to me.”

If Kate’s snort of amusement at his scream into his hands after you had left was anything to go by, it worked far too well.

–

“We only have a double room left, will that be ok sir?”

Nikolai had taken one look at you all cried out and sniffling outside that tea shop and decided there and then that he was going to feed you the largest meal of your life and then tuck you into a nice, warm bed and let you sleep for as long as you wanted. If he had known when he got the message from Price about the tea shop opening that you were the little thing behind the Captain and Gaz calling in all their favours he would have told the general he was flying to a critical mission to walk so he could attend. 

As it was he had been on his way to visit and apologise for not making it when he had gotten the message from Kate that she was giving him a new assignment. He didn’t know the full background, he did know that the 141 was in big trouble whatever had happened. Not his problem, he was focused on you. 

He had teased that he was going to fly you out of there at first and you had about passed away on the spot before he scrambled to tell you he was joking. The B&B wasn’t too far, it was in the nearest little village an hours walk from the teashop in the opposite direction of the base. You told him you were ok to walk and he had scooped you onto his back anyway, let you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder as you chatted away about anything and everything.

Your attempts at learning some Russian was adorable, trying to wrap your tongue around the words he would give you before even asking what they meant (he had gotten you to say ‘I am very cute’ perfectly and then told you it meant ‘thank you’, so delighted when you said it frequently that it overrode the guilt at being so duplicitous about it. He’d tell you one day. Maybe).  

“Of course, double is perfect.”

Not that you would protest given that you were fast asleep on his back now, the weight of your head on his shoulder comforting. You deserved the rest he imagined, he had gotten pictures from Price of the opening. It wasn’t easy to have so many big personalities in one place, much less have them all vying for your attention. He took great glee knowing that every single one would be chewing glass when they found out he had you all to himself right now.

You woke up when you were put down onto the bed, blearily blinking as you tried to work out your new surroundings. It was a cosy little room, the bed you were on was like a marshmallow with the perfect firm to squishy ratio and Nikolai who you had come to like very much in the last hour was laying out a frankly disgusting amount of room service onto the little table, so much of it that you could see some had already needed to be put on the vanity.

It was wonderful to exist in a sleepy, happy haze as you ate your weight in comforting pub food, soaked in the bath he had run for you and then fell into bed. Only there was only one bed. And he was already settling himself in the armchair and putting on reading glasses that made him look adorable to start one of the little romcoms from the tiny library in the foyer. In truth Nikolai was more inclined to share, but he knew that even the act of asking you would put pressure on you. He knew a people pleaser when he saw one. 

“...the bed is big enough for you as well. Would it be ok if we shared?”

Well he hadn’t expected you to be the one asking him and it took him by surprise enough that he put down his book and just blinked at you for a moment, brain short circuiting and answering in Russian instead with a heartfelt speech about how he did not want you to feel you had to offer and how he would love to hold you if you’d let him because you seemed like you should always be held and if he got to be the one to do that for only one night he would be so grateful for the trust you had given him.

You had no clue what this handsome man was saying, but it sounded nice. You hoped you hadn’t overstepped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I… have a bit of a contract with the 141. It’s for services and goods of equivalent value when they help me out. And you’ve helped me out a lot tonight so I know sharing the bed isn’t exactly, well I mean it’s really your bed, so I should be the one in the chair really, so it’s not me repaying you at all to share it” you rambled, very sleepy from the abundance of food and the warm bath.

“Oh lapposhychka, it is no wonder I got such warm messages from the Captain” Nikolai sighed, seeing how a light blush dusted across your nose when you got yourself worked up about a problem. “I do not want you to make yourself uncomfortable because you think to repay me with it.”

You brought the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose to hide your little shy smile, feeling somehow like you could tell him the truth that you could never say out loud to anyone else.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I was the one who wrote it down to be vague just incase… people wanted to be creative with interpretation.”

Nikolai took a moment to understand and then laughed so loudly that you could hear the neighbours laughing at his boisterous laugh. He was happy to slide into bed beside you then and you were using his chest as a pillow and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. When you tried to thank him in Russian he only laughed lightly and hugged you as you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

–

“Open bonnie.”

You automatically opened your mouth to let Soap feed you another bite of pastry, eyes not leaving the accounts you were pouring over. Johnny wasn’t complaining at how concentrated you were, not when it meant you had let yourself be hand fed by him after being manoeuvred into Simon’s lap. It was almost enough to make up for his plans being ruined to offer you his bedroom after Kate and Alejandro (and then very swiftly via Rudy’s big mouth everyone) had found out about your sleeping arrangements. 

You had been back to open the next morning and were going over what it would cost to stay in the B&B and build an extension versus the cost of just renting or getting a mortgage on a place in the village. Him and Simon had shared several looks to the tune of “we are going to need to get it into her pretty head somehow that we can pay for everything and actually wouldn’t it be easier for her to always have access to everything she needed if she married one of us?” and then getting into an argument about who that should be. 

It was idyllic and wonderful and then of course Simon had to be Simon and have an admirer who was jealousy pawing at the beautiful thing in his lap.

“Oh! Ah Herzogin, I’m so sorry, I’ve taken your space haven’t I?” you said with a little scritch behind her ears as you stood and stretched. 

Immediately the cat was up in Simon’s lap and purring aggressively, making biscuits into his thigh. The look between him and Johnny then was more to the tune of:

“Jesus Si dae ye have tae be such a bloody cat magnet?”

“Well what do you want me to do Johnny? Shove König’s cat onto the floor?”

“Wait… wait we need tae steal König’s cat.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well if we want tae have her pick us…”

The unspoken conversation did not make it much further because you were asking if they wanted a drink. Johnny ordered an Irish coffee, Simon ordered an earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey. 

“Oh, you mean a L-” you started, Simon looking at you like he may commit homicide if you said the words ‘London Fog’ to refer to his drink order. 

“Llllllarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey,” you finally said, desperately improvising. 

“A large, yes sweetheart” he said with a grin that nearly knocked you unconscious anytime you saw it on his unmasked face. “Although I’ll take payment for looking after the cat just now.”

While one hand was scritching at said cat he used the other to grab your waist and pull you closer, tilting his head up and smirking. Honestly he had mostly expected you to blush brightly and if he was very lucky kiss his cheek, so when you leaned down and pressed your lips to his beautifully gently the scariest solider the SAS had ever seen was reduced to blushing brightly himself.

Soap was only too eager to remind you of his services of feeding you bites of food so you wouldn’t simply waste away while you were working and your bravery only stretched so far to give him a quick peck before fleeing to the kitchen absolutely ablaze to make the coffee and London Fogarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

–

It had been less of a fight than you thought for you to stay in the shop. Price had insisted they get you an air mattress and a proper duvet at least, but they had all been respectful of your wishes even if not happy about it when you had said you really would be ok. They were already doing so much now that you had decided to build an extension instead of renting or buying somewhere else (you loved this place so much, you didn’t want to be so far away). Already they were grumbling about contractors and how they’d do a bad job so you may as well let them do it and honestly? A little part of you felt like this was as much their baby as it was yours, so you were warmed that they wanted to help.

And you were also warmed by how they had listened. They hadn’t overruled you like you were worried they might, they had just made sure that you were safe and as comfortable as possible. Mind you their idea of safe was overkill (the locks on the door they had installed in record time were something out of a sci-fi movie and more often than not the past few weeks you had not been alone on that air mattress in the shop), but you still felt so listened to and respected in your own right.

This was the first evening in the last 5 you had spent just you and Herzogin. Well just you since she had slinked out to go cause mischief somewhere no doubt. You were honestly a little relieved when there was a knock at the door, feeling a little strange being alone now as you got up, jumped through hoops to unlock all the security protocols and opened the door.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

You did not know the American on your doorstep in the torn skull balaclava, but you could see he had been beaten badly. 

“Who did this to you?” was spilling out of you as you reached out your arms to him to try to take some of his weight since he was slumped against the doorway.

“If I told you that I’d have to kill you sweetheart” he said, somehow managing to sound condescending even though he was hissing the words through gritted teeth.

It was probably a strange thing to think, but he reminded you of Simon. Something about the way he held himself, the way he handled this situation. The pet name. Maybe it was some transferred fondness that had you taking as much of his weight as you could handle and stumbling inside with him, dropping him on the sofa (a new addition thanks to Nik) and rushing over to get the first aid box that thankfully had been upgraded to a full military grade mini medic bay by Kate and Farah. 

“I mean you could try, but you’re not looking so hot” you said, bringing the kit over and kneeling by the sofa to try and figure out the worst of the damage.

“Ouch sweetheart, never had anyone tell me I don’t look hot on a first date.”

Oh this man was ridiculous, but at least if he was flirting he was probably not dying. 

“What can I say, high standards.”

You felt his eyes scrutinising you as you checked him over. You had trained in first aid before you had even bought this place, knowing that it would be legally required but also that morally you could not have people in your premises without knowing you could look after them. Not that your customers generally needed looking after. Even the ancient book club that had started coming in from the village on Sunday afternoons were tough as old nails.

“You’ve not called anyone.”

“Well I’m assuming you don’t want an ambulance involved, and I wanted to at least be able to say how bad you were before calling someone else.”

“Who are you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters.”

He laughed and you hissed at him to stop when it clearly put him in more pain to do so. Poor Nik had been so proud when he had arrived with this sofa, had really been gloating to everyone about how you had reacted by launching yourself at him in a hug, and the chances of the blood stains ever coming out were very slim. 

“And if I asked you not to?”

You looked at his eyes to find them staring back at you, almost in challenge. This guy sure was a piece of work, but you really wanted him to be ok. As you tried to pack the stab wound (you thought at least) with gauze, you mused that maybe this time somebody might owe you and not the other way around. 

“Then I’d wait until you passed out and then call him when you couldn’t say no if I asked.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. Oh. That was not something you were going to be exploring while your hands were covered in blood. You just levelled him with a glare that very much screamed ‘behave yourself’ and grabbed your phone to call Simon. He answered on the second ring.

–

You know when you really sat down to reflect, your life had gotten so strange. Fake dating König because some wildly charming man called Graves had called you “little darlin’” and that was apparently a security threat, having to smack Soap with one of those squeaky toy hammers any time he scratched at his stitches after coming back fully banged up from a mission, having to referee a tricycle race between Ale and Valeria (your first time meeting her had been wild in and of itself), mediating the all out war between the book club made up of 80+ year olds and the 141. 

One thing you could say for sure though when Price took your blind fold off to reveal the brand new extension finished with the absolute cosiest living space you could ever have wanted is that you were incredibly happy. It was a strange family that you found yourself in, but with that now almost illegible from all the additions contract proudly on the wall of your teashop, you found that it suited you just fine.

[syoddeye]

the dinner

ceo!price x reader / ~4.4k words

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4 Very special thank you to @sleepyeugene @greatstormcat and @mortuarywriting for beta-ing ♥️ Tagging: @sweetspicynoodles

CW: alcohol, oral sex

Straw. Actual straw. Collected, cut, snipped, and arranged by careful hands to ring a porcelain plate to resemble a bird's nest. A piece pokes the chicken egg in the center, and a thin drizzle of black truffle sluices from the puncture and soaks into the dry, flat bed of mushrooms.

You would do unspeakable things for a lamb samosa. 

The drinks are delicious, though the service, along with everything else, proves an adjustment. Two sips into a kir, savoring, the waiter clears the glasses, moving you into the second dish without a word. Each course you pick through transitions the same: with a person clad in a fancy little vest ferrying away three-quarter full glasses and disassembled plates you ruined in search of flavor.

Baffling. Pompous. Wasteful. 

Your work anniversary dinner. Your date with John Price.

Across the table, he dines in his own world. He methodically pierces the egg on his nest-plate-thing, peppery black truffle oozing more neatly than your own onto the mushrooms. He prepares a bite, and you trail it to his mouth. His eyes close briefly, and your lip twitches.

Holding back a sigh, you mirror him as you have the whole dinner, a plebeian to his patrician.

The conversation lulled when a former business associate of John's, wife in tow, briefly stopped at the table. You don't remember either of their names, only that their intrusion was the killing blow. Although introduced, the conversation remained limited to the three. By the time they departed for their table, the plates had changed.

John did not help the silence, seemingly content with it. While generous in material ways, the Moynat proof of that, he was stingy when it came to speaking about himself. He masterfully keeps the focus on you, with a special interest in your time at The 141 Group.

But as you reluctantly dominated the earlier conversation, you were not keen to restart it. You let the quiet continue to hold you hostage.

The server takes the remains of the cheese course, the most palatable and normal by far, and he finally speaks.

"Not a fan of French food?"

Your eyes flick up from the napkin in your lap. Unfazed, the server arranges another clean set of flatware. John's elbows rest on the table, poor etiquette for a man of his station, leaning forward until his breath makes the candle flame flicker. He doesn't move to make the server's job easier, forcing them to work around him.

You glance to the waiter, mildly comforted they seem unperturbed, then return to John's question. "I don't mind it." 

"You hardly ate."

"I don't think my palate is refined enough for this," You carefully explain. This is a free dinner. This is the head of your company. You're neither impolite nor stupid to accidentally insult the man's taste.

"I doubt your tongue's the problem," He smirks, then lowers an arm to the table and extends a hand, palm up, expectant. Grins when you take it, thumb dragging over the skin. "I'll let you pick dessert."

The profiterole is an olive branch. A delicious one, vanilla cream and chocolate exploding over your taste buds, erasing the earthiness and grit of the earlier courses. Fingers pinching the dessert's accompanying demitasse, you find John studying you. His choux untouched.

"Not a fan of sweets?" You ask, echoing him.

"Not particularly," He pushes the saucer around the candlestick. 

You take the pastry. With so much food wasted already, it'd be a shame to let the taste of paradise slip past.

The server never returns to the table. The meal ends when John informs you the car is waiting out front, and he herds you to the coat check with his hand on the small of your back. He helps you into your wool coat, murmuring, "Pity it's cold out."

You know what he means. It took hours and a FaceTime call with Jordan to pick a dress. Your friend wasn't so much of a consultant as she was a soundboard, reassuring you looked good over and over again. 

"He said he liked the green," you explained.

"Told you, big sexy pine tree," Jordan teased, voice crackling through the phone speaker.

You wore the dark emerald dress to a wedding years ago with good results. It's formal enough the maître d' didn't stop you at the door, yet simple enough in its construction that you don't feel like a peacock or a tryhard. The silky material clung comfortably to your frame but wasn't too snug and fell to your mid-calf. The slit that cut a generous distance to your thigh invited John's eyes when you slid into the car upon pick-up, followed by his hand. The dress dipped beneath your scapulae in the back, the scoop neckline traveled straight across your cleavage, and the thin straps exposed your shoulders. You feel sexy, and you know you look it, too.

The coat's lining is cool on your skin, contrasting with the heat of John's breath on the back of your neck. Your things back in your possession, he steers you to the exit.

John pulls Alex aside when you duck into the car, and the bodyguard glances over his employer's shoulder. His attention returns within the second, but a smile forms under his neatly trimmed mustache.

With that furtive look, it occurs to you you don't know what's next on the agenda. Given the lack of edible food and stilted conversation, you'd prefer to head home and tuck into the samosas you've dreamt of all evening. Bid adieu to this alternate universe where you kind of date CEOs and own expensive purses. Yet, from your limited experience with John, leaving the man's company is easier said than done.

It's as if he reads your mind.

"Night's young. Thought we might have a drink, if I haven't completely mucked this up."

You frown. "You haven't," It's unfair he gets to self-deprecate, and your immediate inclination is to comfort and dissuade him. Knowing the man could buy your building with pocket change grates against the simmering frustration in your chest. You want to go home and ditch the date, as you have others, but instead, you are agreeable. "I could use a drink."

If he registers a hint of your inner turmoil, he does not show it. The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. "Good. Somewhere we need to stop first."

He looks out the window and settles a hand above your knee again. You should break the habit, even if his palm is warm and the gesture scratches an itch you don't want to acknowledge.

You observe him in the periphery. Since this situation began in the copier room, you look up John Price online every few days. He's constantly in the news, whether by mention or for a quote. Each story uses one of three photos, all from the same batch of headshots. Interestingly, he seems to avoid video interviews, though there are three or four soundbites where he's been invited to chime in by a network.

His Wikipedia page contains more information on The 141 Group than his personal life. The section itself is a measly three sentences covering his birthplace, heritage, and when he founded the company. And although you knew it was a long shot, you searched high and low across every social media platform you could think of, reactivated your Facebook, and everything. Nothing. His control over his public image seems as ironclad as his control over the company. You count yourself lucky his command extends only to work. If you wanted to exit the car at the next traffic light, you're sure he'd let you out and wish you a good night.

An idle flex of his fingers on your leg, as if he really is a mind reader, extinguishes the thought. 

Neon light punctures the tinted windows of the car. Your head swivels, and you scrunch your nose in recognition. John's brought you to a popular row of nightclubs, and fuzzy memories surge to the forefront of your mind. The taste of cheap tequila on your tongue and playing drunken therapy in crowded bathrooms. It's beyond you why John needs to stop here, but you're not opening that can of worms.

John reaches for the door handle, and your arm shoots out without thinking, curling over his forearm. 

"John, wait."

He stops immediately. "Something wrong?"

"Can I stay in the car?" You ask, eyes moving past his furrowed brow to the few clubgoers outside. "I'd prefer to stay here."

John's face slackens, and then he turns away, his shoulders heaving with a short laugh. He shakes his head and pats your thigh. "Alright, but I'll need your order."

Confusion finds its home on your face this time until John gestures with a thumb over his shoulder out the car's rear window. A bright red food truck sits behind the private car, warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. You watch a woman claim a paper tray cradling a doner kebab. The sight sinks claws into your belly.

The want must be plain on your face as John chuckles and cracks the car door open.

"C'mon. Two tiny pastries is a poor meal. I cannot, in good conscience, take you for a drink on an empty stomach."

When you order, and he reaches for his billfold, you quickly tap your phone to the register. Thanking the truck owner, you delight in the cross expression on John's face.

"You covered dinner, I assume, unless you've made an accomplice of me," You joke as you step to the side of the line with the man, your souring mood remedied with the promise of Turkish food.

John's eyes pinch as if trying to sort you out, and then his face drops into a feigned solemnity. "'Fraid so. We'll never be able to return."

"I'm gutted."

"I can tell."

The two of you stand out of the way of the groups loitering outside of the clubs. Alex hovers nearby. 

You watch the short lines with a mixture of admiration and worry. It wasn't too long ago you were one of the giggling young women forgoing proper attire to stand in lines to dance and drink. Arms linked with friends, buzzing from the pre-drink, and making eyes at whoever caught your fancy. It's surreal to be back here with John, of all people. He'd look like an ordinary man if he wasn't in a bespoke suit.

A booming voice calls your number, and you retrieve the food. His serving is massive, tricky to transfer.

"I'm starvin'," He mutters, tucking in like a dog gets after a bone.

You, no better, are two big bites into your kebab. You swallow, shielding your mouth with a palm. "I thought you liked dinner. Our first dinner."

John considers you a moment, cheek bulging slightly with a bite. Before he takes another, he smiles sheepishly. "I hate that restaurant."

The admission poleaxes, and you nearly drop the kebab back into its flimsy tray. "But…I saw you absolutely relish that egg dish. With the truffle?"

"I was keeping the sea urchin down."

"That's what that was?" Your stomach twists, suddenly persnickety, recalling the slimy, coral-pink dish preceding the egg and mushrooms. It tasted salty, but you assumed it was another type of shellfish. Mildly scandalized, a bite finds its way to your mouth, but you pause, shy of the target. "If you hate the place, why did you take me there?"

"Thought you might like it."

You snort, wiping the corner of your lips with a disposable napkin. "Well, I didn't," Despite the lightheartedness, a sliver of asperity threads through your tone, and you swipe your tongue over your teeth. "You didn't ask what I like to eat, or where I might want to go for my anniversary date."

"So this is a date."

You glare, thinking how fast Alex might react to you taking a plastic fork to your employer, shelve the twinge in your chest and settle for pointing the prongs accusingly. "You have some nerve, Mr. Price. Taking a young woman, an employee, to dinner without consulting them."

The glint in his eye sharpens in the kaleidoscopic light. "You didn't complain earlier. You didn't ask."

You rapidly lose patience. "Should I ask next time?"

His mouth curls beneath his beard. "Next time?"

That’s it. You pitch the scraps of your food, dab your mouth again, and head for the car. With a huff, you bypass a hesitating Alex and wrench the car door open, your face flaming with embarrassment and irritation. Head of the company or not, he's an ass, deliberately riling you up. When you turn around, mapping the route home in your head, John's broad form cages you between the open door and the car. A quick glance at the American, and Alex turns away, forcing you to focus on the man before you.

"John." You state simply, hoping his name's magic enough a word to compel him to step aside.

"Didn't mean any harm, doll," He rasps lowly, a hair above a whisper. "Thought the place would impress you. I should've asked, I know, but I've made up for it, haven't I?" This close, his eyes appear darker, overcast with how he's backlit.

Lump in your throat, you exhale through your nose and lick your lip, tasting paprika. "I don't appreciate being teased."

John hums. "No?" His eyes switch between yours before giving a nod of understanding. "Noted. Then I'll be direct. I'd like to take you back to mine for a drink, so we can have some privacy," His hand lifts, palm cupping your face, thumb sweeping a cheek. "Get to know each other. Talk."

Talk. Uh-huh.

It's another precipice that every bit of reason in your bones tells you to step back from. Abort, abandon ship – this man is your boss's boss. No, higher than that. A man whose net worth is a question mark in every record you find. A fragmented exasperation comes out in a sigh, more surrender than defeat. As you mused earlier, leaving the man's company is easier said than done.

~~

It's terribly stereotypical – the sleek high rise, the terse doorman, the private lift, all down to the echo of your heels clicking on dark parquet floors leading to his door, the penthouse, naturally. 

However, John's home is warmer than you thought it would be for the owner of a company. A mixture of contemporary artwork hangs throughout the foyer, living, and dining area. Designer fixtures and hardware, clean lines melding with traditional pieces, and a color palette trending darker yet somehow rustic. Despite the company's technological bent, you have yet to spot a single smart home device. Whoever he paid to design and furnish his place, you figure they made out like a bandit.

Eyes cast out of floor-to-ceiling windows, you hold a glass of a Grand Cru, a Bordeaux whose name you immediately forget when you clap eyes on the year. The taste of dark cherry and smoke feels like silk and velvet on your tongue, and you savor it. The view's not too bad, either.

"Like it?"

"It'll do."

It's maddening. Going from barely looking the man in the eye in the line for a themed cocktail at a company party to standing in his home, drinking his expensive wine after he's paid for dinner and the purse currently on his dining table. As you take in the skyline, you hold on to that thought. The umpteenth time, you ask yourself, what the shit are you doing here? This is bad. There is no rationalization. The facts are laid bare in your mind: You are younger than him, not indecently so, but enough that your parents and friends would raise a brow. You are his employee and well on the way to breaking half a dozen more rules. You are an average person with bills and debt and stand to benefit from his generosity. You see it coming, the belated realization that hits like a pile of bricks.

The words slip out. Part declaration, part self-reassurance, wholly unformed. "I'm not going to be your…sugar baby, or whatever." You take a swig, fighting a wave of embarrassment.

In the window's reflection, John rocks on his heels. "I didn't think you were. I don't want you to be."

You turn, meeting his gaze when he mirrors you, squinting at the amusement written clearly on his face. "Then why the drinks? The dinner? The purse?"

"You deserve to be rewarded."

"No, no," You insist, shaking your head and lifting a finger. "You don't do this for other employees."

"Who says I haven't?"

"Have you?"

"'Course not."

You snort into the glass and drink deep. "You're impossible. How do you run a company with that attitude?"

John grins wryly in his own glass and ignores the jab. "Mm. Is this you askin' what we're doing here?"

Usually, eye contact is easy. Now, it's a challenge. "I suppose so, yes."

"We're two people enjoying each other's company," John's eyes drag down you shamelessly, ending back on your face with a polite smile as if he didn't blatantly ogle you. "One of whom happens to be in a position to give presents, and possesses the inclination."

It's an intentionally obtuse answer. "You know what that sounds like."

"It bothers you that much? To leave things as they are?"

"'As they are'," You repeat, then venture, "Casual, then?"

John faces you completely, looming. "I prefer to call it friendly."

Your chin lifts. "And you know what human resources would call it?"

"I might have some sway there."

"You'd abuse your power for me?" You scoff.

"I'd do worse, if you asked, sweetheart."

There’s a pause, an opening, and to your surprising delight, John takes it. He leans down for a kiss.

It's a mix of restraint and fervor. John's hand cradles your jaw, deepening the kiss when he realizes you're not running for the exit. His mouth's clearly the dominant player when yours opens without prompting. Any trace of stiffness in your posture melts, and it's a good thing you're holding a half-full glass of wine because you don't know what else it would reach for or where else it would head.

"Get to know each other. Talk," John said. If this is how he wants to get to know you, you accept it, and let him take you to his bedroom.

~~

"This'll wrinkle," John rucks the sheath of your dress up to your waist, fingers appreciatively trailing down your hips until they curve beneath your knees. His eyes follow a similar path, albeit starting from your face.

"I'll bill you for the dry cleaning." You murmur, biting your lip, watching him take in the view. It's intoxicating, the shift in his breathing, the narrowing of his eyes when it reaches the pale gold silk of your thong. It's as sheer as gossamer and carefully stitched with a pretty floral design, the gusset the only solid strip of fabric apart from the band.

The look on his face makes the bit of debt it put you in worth it. 

Your smug grin collapses under the crawl of a knuckle down your covered seam, featherlight. 

He hums, hands sliding beneath the band. His eyes flick to yours, the blue cloudy with want. His turn to smirk. "This too?"

"John," You warn half-heartedly, knowing what he's actually asking, lift your hips a little, and plant your hands on the bed.

Slowly, John pulls the garment down your legs. A sharp, audible inhale escapes him when his eyes snap to the apex of your thighs, and he tosses the piece of lingerie aside.

John sinks to his knees at the edge of his bed, unhurried, clearly content to observe your sex like it's one of the expensive pieces of art in his living room. His hands return, gliding up your legs to draw circles into the patches of skin on either side of your pussy, smirking again when he hears you gasp. He remains fixated. "Look at you," he purrs, a thumb brushing through the wetness, spreading it deliberately over your clit.

His thumb continues its lazy swipes while his mouth starts kissing a trail up your thighs. You tremble head to toe, anticipation painting everything in a lush haze.

"Fuck," The curse slips out in an aborted hiss you bite back. It's annoying how easily John works you up, his nettling at the food truck to this – he's barely touched you, and speech is suddenly a weakness. Has it been so long since you last saw some action? The brief, scalding memory of your last romp in the sheets plays in your mind. Freshly broken up with, it was a half-baked rebound with a man from a bar you went to alone, stupidly, and took in like a stray dog. Rutted like one, anyway. Come morning, he'd gone, having apparently found the cash in your wallet but not your clit.

A nip brings you back to the present.

"Still with me?" 

How many times could you make a rich man doubt himself in one night? Quite the undiscovered talent to discover. "Sorry, yes," You breathe, words working their way out through a shudder, "It's been awhile."

His stroking slows, eyes narrowing at your admission, mouth tracking to its north star. 

For a moment, it seems like he might stop or, worse, ask about it. You reach a hand toward him and stop short. "Can you, just–please?"

Without another word, John parts your thighs further apart, fingers digging gently into the sensitive skin. He dips his head lower, warm breath fanning over your pussy. His broad tongue flattens and drags one long lick from your hole to your clit, circling the sensitive bud. He groans, lapping up the first droplets of arousal, huffing your scent with his nose pressing to your curls. One of his hands makes for your ass, holding you in place when you inevitably jerk from the sensation.

His tongue is a wicked thing. Fitting, given his predilection for banter.

You involuntarily cant your hips up to his mouth, his beard scraping. "John!"

His smirk stretches across his lips, and he chuckles. For a second, he pauses. It's deliciously agonizing, the sight of him licking his lip before he returns back between your legs. The delay is long enough to make the next touch of his tongue a pleasant shock.

But he stops again. "Yeah? You want more?" The question is punctuated by a swipe.

You clench at the sheer arrogance in his voice. Maybe you did like being–

"What was that earlier?" His teeth gently, gently rake over your clit. "Something about you not appreciating being teased?" His laugh is downright mean when you practically squeal.

Your face burns, leaning back on an elbow, unable to remain seated with how you shake. "John, please."

Every word laces together with amusement. "Impatient, aren't you? Just want to make this last, sweetheart."

He delves back in, and in the process, he hauls one of your legs over his shoulder. You drop the other arm back to hold yourself up. His hand on your thigh leaves its post to join his efforts, and his middle fingers slide in without preamble - no need, judging by the obscene squelch.

Your head is the next to fall back at an angle, eyes squeezing shut at the slight stretch, hips bucking when he thrusts them shallowly. Gradually pushing deeper, stroking you from the inside out. His tongue makes a slow pass over your seam, licking over where his fingers disappear, and his mouth seals over your clit.

Again, language fails. The incoherent, shattered pleas and curses erupt out of you seem to spur John on. He groans when your cunt tightens its grip on his fingers, the heat in your belly skyrocketing to the peak at a dizzying speed. You know the orgasm will hit hard if it really has been over a year since someone assisted you in reaching one.

"John, please, John," you hurtle towards oblivion, leaving human resources in the dust. You fist his bedding, knuckles flexing, and force yourself to look at him.

John's eyes are open, pupils blown, zeroed in on your face with an intensity that makes you clench once more. He grunts something in response, vaguely encouraging with his big palm on your ass, squeezing and keeping you in place.

When it crests, your back meets the mattress with a cry. John rises slightly to follow your body's momentum, tongue still working fervently, though his fingers stop. He pulls out the digits to grab the ankle of your leg over his shoulder, your own wetness painting over the joint like a brushstroke. He gently removes the limb from its perch, and his mouth slows.

The first hints of overstimulation make you whimper and clumsily reach for the crown of his head, fingers threading through short hair to pull him off.

John detaches himself from your pussy, but not without a few parting kisses. 

While you try to gather the pieces of your consciousness flung about, John retracts and stands, rubbing one of your calves. You nearly short-circuit when you meet eyes at last. He's sucking his fingers with the same care he showed at dinner. The first one. He grins.

"My dessert."

You consider chucking his own pillow at his face. The crime of a rich man using a cheap line. It's annoying you still want his cock. You reach for him, fingers hooking around his belt to pull him forward and down, a knee landing between your legs. He ducks his head to meet you halfway for a kiss, your tongue licking over the seam of his mouth, tasting yourself. You kiss and kiss and kiss until your lungs hurt. Now that he's broken your dry spell, it's open season. 

Only, he puts a stop to it, pulling back when you unfasten his belt buckle. He cups your face. "I'd rather focus on you right now, sweetheart."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. "That's not–You don't have to…"

"Hm, I want to see how many times I can make you come tonight." His other hand toys with the thin strap of your dress. "Should get this off you, before I ruin it."

The dress is a lost cause, as with any intention you had of sneaking out in the middle of the night. The dress joins your underwear, and you spend the rest of the evening learning just how generous John Price can be.

[1-ker0sene-1]

God your blog is fucking SCRUMPTIOUS. If you’re willing could you do something with a reader who has POTS? Much love ❤️

{Thank you so much ♥️ Apologies this took so long! Requests are starting to come out again! I lost all my drafts due to my laptop breaking and had to rewrite 🥹}

Gaz

Honest to god. This man would probably be the absolute best partner for someone with POTS. Whether he was there for your diagnosis or you already had it when you started dating, he wants to help and accommodate the best he can. Kyle would hate for you to feel isolated, trying to match and normalize your routine so you're not alone.

Definitely got you both massive water bottles, the ones that have at the very least sixty ounces. So you can keep drinking and sipping all day and stay hydrated. If you don't feel comfortable going out to a physical therapist? Kyle is researching ALL night how to do gentle therapy at home with you.

Taking care of you is second nature to him. He's constantly thinking about you. When he leaves for deployment he has small meals already prepped in the fridge for you, cleaned the whole house.. leaves sweet notes all over the place reminding you to drink water, get some electrolytes, cool off and get plenty of rest.

"I'll be home soon baby ~K"

"Don't forget to drink your water! Love you pretty girl ~K"

"Rest for me lovie, we'll be doing plenty of 'exercise' when I get back ;) ~K"

Price

Prepared. That is what John is. He wants to be ready if you have a bad day, so he can pamper you as much as he physically can if he cannot immediately whisk away your pain. John definitely moves fast in a relationship, especially if he feels an immediate connection. You're telling him he can take care of you? Of course it's not that he likes that you struggle with the condition, but his love language is definitely acts of service.

" 's no trouble love, house feels empty when you aren't in it anyways. Might as well just stay full time."

You're moving in. He's installing a nice and sturdy shower bench, he's got snacks all around the house for you, he's mixing electrolyte powder in your water. John wants you to thrive more than anything, you're his girl, going to be his wife one day. He still wants you to feel and be independent, if you need he'll go with you to get a mobility aid so you can comfortably go out more.

He's set in his military ways so.. He's somewhat blunt with scheduling. Little reminders all day to drink your water with a kiss to your forehead. When you go out together, he's stashed some instant cold packs and little salt packets in your bag. John often lifts your hand to check your BPM tracker, once he's done he'll kiss your knuckles.

"Look at that darlin' .. Takin' care of yourself so well for me."

Soap

Johnny had quite the habit of being a bit lazy when home from deployment. But then you wandered into his life, he didn't know about your POTS at first. Just figured you also had a busy life and preferred nights in for dates. Then you got more serious in your relationship and opened up to him about your condition. It was an immediate flip of a switch, Johnny became your Johnny.

He wants you to be able to spend your energy doing the things you love, not the simple tasks, especially when he can take care of it. You practically gained a Scottish housewife. He'll shoo you softly away from the dishes, insisting you enjoy your hobbies or rest up so you two can have a nice day out. Laundry, cleaning, making the bed. Bathing you even though you're perfectly capable, definitely not to touch you and get a little handsy-

"I can take care of ye bonnie.. believe me tha more I do the more I fall for ye."

Would say the only somewhat struggle, is overheating at night. Cause you cannot tell me this man doesn't run hot like a heater. And he loves to love you, hold you, touch and feel you. But there's work arounds, a nice AC, and cooling blankets. Besides he sleeps like a rock so once he's out, if you get too hot you can give him a little push off you. Rarely he'll wake up and drawl out whines.

"..miss ye lass.. my arms are useless without ye in them.."

Ghost

Simon never thought of himself as a worrier. He's been through hell and back and not much phases him. But the first time he saw you faint nearly sent him to an early grave, threw whatever was in his hands to dart over to catch you. This was definitely before he really started to understand the seriousness of POTS. Now it's constantly on his mind, especially the moments in the day when he's not right there with you.

He doesn't want you to feel guilty about his panic, so he's pretty stoic and calm when face to face with you. Definitely goes in with you to every doctor's appointment now, asks questions, how he can help, what to do during your flare ups. You best believe he is taking everything your doctor suggests to heart. Buying you a BPM monitor, knowing Simon he'll probably figure a way to connect it to his phone. So even when he's not with you he knows a little about how you're doing. Statistically it's his most used app now. Once in a while you get a blunt-

"Go rest."

-text from Simon as soon as it gets too high for his liking.

Simon is very adamant that you take plenty of breaks throughout the day, if you're overexerting yourself he's right there with you. An arm winding around you, kissing the nape of your neck after gently brushing your hair aside.

"How you feelin' doll? Let's get you some water and we'll take a break for a while yeah? Put on that show you like and I'll take care of this.."

[arotheosis]

It’s all Whirred Up (NSBU Swap AU concept)

Essentially I started thinking about what it might be like if the action heroes were the ones in the real world, and the video world characters were the action heroes. I tried my best to switch things up so it feels different enough, although I’m still a little unsure about some character roles.

Will I ever actually sit down and write this properly? Who knows

In an old strip mall in Lake Elsinore sits one of the last remaining video rental stores in the country: Slater’s Video Superstore.

With the rise of streaming and digital media, however, the store is on its last legs. Its last week in fact, and its employees prepare to close down and find a new road to take in life.

Steven “King” Skin is a Princeton student with a bright future in politics. He’s nearing the end of his gap year, and wondering whether he really wants to go back to school after all. He works on the finances of the video store.

As he almost mindlessly balances the the store’s financial spreadsheets, he watches on one of the video store screens: Liv Skyler, master thief. Her name is whispered amongst criminal circles like a legend, because she can steal without even leaving a single trace behind.

Victor Ethanol is a young man with a dream of pursuing Formula 1 racing, but working several odd jobs to provide for his family. He does occasional maintanance/ plumbing work for the businesses in the strip mall, including the video store, which he visits frequently.

Trying to get him to take a break from working so hard, his brother Shaun asks if he wants to watch a movie. The movie’s protagonist? One Wendell Morris, former biker gang member who has become an informant for several underground organizations. He’s the black sheep of the Morris family, and their falling out is shrouded in mystery.

G13 is a young hacker who got caught attempting to access classified files, and was sentenced to community service. He’s supposed to be cleaning trash around the strip mall, but he mostly stays inside the video store using the crusty old public computer they have, since he’s no longer allowed to use any at home.

While attempting to bypass the many blocks on that ancient desktop computer, he sees a trailer for an old movie. It depicts Usha Rao, more commonly known by both her allies and enemies as Grandmother. She’s the head of a widespread criminal organization, and despite her sweet seeming appearance is someone to be feared. She’s been alive longer than anyone knows, she’s seen everything and knows everything, so if you mess with her family you cannot escape her wrath.

Working over by the more adult section of the store, is Jack Manhattan. After suffering through a grueling divorce with his wife and losing custody of his two children, his life is essentially at a standstill. He is very vocal about how much he prefers not being tied down, and talks about having many partners, but it’s clear that in reality he is not dealing with the separation well and is very lonely.

Unable to even look at the more unsavory content in front of him without thinking about the love he lost, he switches the channel only to see a movie starring crime investigator Paula Donvalson. While many overlook her based on her wild and sporadic personality, the crazy deductions she makes are more often than not entirely on the money, and the FBI begrudgingly hires her for many of their cases.

Jennifer Drips is a woman who does not stay in one place for far too long. Drifting quickly from town to town, she never sets up roots, but leaves a trail of lovers behind her. She is currently staying in a crappy apartment near Lake Elsinore, and working at the video store for some extra cash before she moves on.

On a screen behind her as she’s packing up the store’s inventory, plays a movie led by Russel Feelds, a mechanic developing gadgets for every organization under the sun. A self described lone wolf, he has no loyalty to any side, as long as you can pay his prices.

Greg Stocks is a wealthy man who owns nearly every storefront in the strip mall, except for the video store. He heads in every day attempting to make an offer that Slater will accept, but even as the store is close to shutting down, the video store owner remains stubborn.

Walking by the front of the store he sees, on one of the display TVs, a film about a man known only as Dang. Dang is the world’s deadliest assassin, and his methods are all just as strange as the man himself. After every kill he leaves behind his calling card, the word “rashab”. No one has deciphered its meaning yet.

[atarathegreat]

Gentle Moments John Price

It had been rough. Too rough. Finding out Hadir stole the gas, Farah's forces being put on the list, and then the kid at the embassy... Everything was crashing down on John all at once. All the frustration, all the rage, all the helplessness and issues that were left for him to clean up.

John threw his chair across his office, slamming it into the bookshelf and scattering books across the floor.

"Fuck me." John ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for the large sigh that built in his chest. It was troublesome how his anger got the best of him. You had always scolded him lightly about how easily his fuse burnt out, often teasing him to get into a management class. He wouldn't ever do it, but he let you dream. This time his outburst was late in the night, not startling you from chores or reading, but startling you awake just on the other side of the wall.

"John!" The doors to his office burst open with you tying your robe together. John knew that underneath was your silk nightdress, barely covering those legs he loved so much. He hated the worry etched on your face, the dark circles under your eyes, "I'm alright, luv. Just... overwhelmed."

There wasn't anyone he needed to be with you. The captain, the soldier, Special Services. Here, at home, with you, John could just be John Price, a husband and human.

"Oh, my baby." You cooed. It was irritating, but it was your default to baby and comfort. John appreciated your enthusiasm. Despite his ire at your tone, he fell to his knees and hugged into your torso. It's an escape, in a way, for him to press his nose against the stupid fluffy robe you insist on wearing and your dumb stomach that he can't seem to bring himself to fill. A child? In this world? His grip on your robe only tightened as he vented every last frustration.

Emotions were a heavy thing, and while you had no idea what John had seen or been through, you assumed the worst. You only ever wanted the best for your husband, wanted him relaxed and be in his best mind. Sometimes his job made it seem like a fantasy to have mental stability. "How about you go shower and I'll get this mess cleaned up?" You lightly scratched your fingers up the back of his head, gentle scratches that would always ground him to the present.

All of your favorite books had hit the floor in his anger. It had taken you months of his first deployment of the relationship to get his home office set up. You wanted to surprise him when he came home, prove that it wasn't a bad idea to move you in with him. A small pang of sadness struck your chest as you realized there wasn't anything more you could do to help him. You could take care of the house, coddle him, be there and help clean up the messes, even make home stress free. But you could never take away the wars he saw, the trauma he held in.

You needed to face that you couldn't fix everything.

The wheels of his chair scrapped as you rolled it back behind his desk, thinking of anything else you could do to help. Again you came up empty handed.

"Luv, you're still in here?" John smiled from the door, "C'mere. I think I need a night of holding you."

Jesus, that fluffy robe drove him up a wall. "Get this off." His low laugh was enough to ease your guilt over what you couldn't do, "I hate this damn thing." He really did. It kept John from seeing those beautiful legs, the way your waist curved, and how sexy you looked in those thin night gowns, it gave him joy to toss the damn thing across his office. "C'mon," John grunted, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder, "I need a night of you in my lap."

Or, what you knew he meant, "I need you close so I can know that I'm not crazy and you're still here."

It wasn't any easy job that John worked, but he did it for all the right reasons. "I'll protect you, luv, forever." He always whispered. In exchange for his never-ending protection, you could spend as long as he needed in his lap, letting him listen to your heartbeat and stroke all over your legs as much as he wanted. Even if your leg went numb from his touch.

[winterspiderpurrs]

Okay okay.... Uncle Ben was from Brooklyn. Let's pretend that he kept the apartment he grew up in.

He either sublease it or rented it out for extra income. Kept the rent cheap so the few different tenants he had ALWAYS took care of the place because who would want to get kicked out of an affordable place?

Let's say AFTER the latest tenants move out. There lease finally up and the need to move so they don't renew. May and Peter are cleaning the place with the debate of should we keep renting it out or sale it cause they could get a pretty good price for it.

Maybe while cleaning Peter discovered a lose floor board or baseboard. And he finds a hiding spot. And he pulls out a bundle of letters.

Old ones.

Letters that had RETURN TO SENDER- UNDELIVERED-U.S. Army Postal Service

All of these letters are for one James 'Bucky' Barnes.

There are some letters Bucky sent his sisters and parents. And good amount of letters that his sisters, parents, and even one from Steve, unopened, with return messages stamped on them. A pile of them, based on the dates it was right before he got captured the 1st time, before the camp. And even after he was consider POW and after the notice of his KIA letters went out.

Letters that were written, mailed and returned unread.

Well... it's time for Peter to find the newly recovered Winter Soldier to deliver him his missing letters.

[141trash]

rating: sfw (brief mentions of sex, but no graphic anything)

Captain John Price x Reader

AN: Somehow this ended up with very little actual Price in it, but I have plans and he will be more prominent. I just have word vomit rn and needed to get everything down

imagine having a one time fling with Price after your husband leaves you for another one because you just can't seem to get pregnant and he wants a family.

It was a good romp, he was a bit gruff, but was super sweet afterwards with the aftercare. he even stayed to buy you breakfast the next morning. Months later you've been focused on yourself, getting your life together and learning what it means to move on.

Only you've been feeling rather ill the last couple days. And then you remember you're late. Which isn't entirely unusual, sometimes you miss a period when you're stressed and the last couple months finding your feet have been stressful. Still you go to the doctors and its there you remember your night with Price, definitely can't remember if he used a condom or not, and you know you hadn't been on birth control since previously you'd been trying for a baby.

Oops you're pregnant.

The timeline fits that it's his and not your now ex-husband's and part of you is instantly hugely relieved about that.

You leave the doctor's office in a bit of a daze. It doesn't sink in until you're stumbling your way into the cafe you own/manage and you promptly dissolve into a fit of tears in the backroom, much to your teeny bopper part timer's utter horror.

Pregnant. You're fucking pregnant. You're elated, over the moon because you had always wanted kids. (yeah adoption's a thing, but in some places its really hard to adopt if you're single and you weren't ready for another relationship after the last trainwreck). You're also fucking terrified because holy shit you have no plan. Nothing is ready. You live in a tiny flat in the city with one bedroom because why would you need more than that?

Your friend appears in the back room as your mind is going a million miles a minute, turns out your part timer had panicked and called her. You breakdown again in her arms and tell her the news. She reminds you that you're not alone even though you're not in a relationship and that you will have all the support that you need.

With her help you start to prepare for the baby. Things move quickly, you're so busy getting things ready, searching for a larger flat, buying things, filling your head with every single bit of parenting knowledge you can get your head on. All your regular customers say that you're glowing, they've never seen you happier.

You've recorded every little thing since finding out you were pregnant. kept print outs of every scan. More than once you find yourself staring out the window, guiltily wondering about whether or not Price would have wanted to know. Not that you have any way of contacting him. You knew he was military, from the dog tags he'd had hanging around his neck, but not much more.

The first time you feel the baby kicking is when you're in the middle of a shift. Its the slow time of day so you're cleaning up the tables when you gasp suddenly. The girl behind the counter is by your side in an instant, babbling questions making sure you're okay. She's sweet and like your friend has been beside you since you found out.

"I'm fine Cally. The baby kicked." you announce, beaming brightly. She squeals and begs to be allowed to feel next time the baby kicks. Before you can do more the bell above the door dings and you both automatically turn, your customer service smiles back on. Only.

"John?" Your mouth drops open in surprise. Standing there looking oddly sheepish is the man you hadn't thought you'd ever see again. The man whose baby was currently kicking as if demanding your attention.

His eyes sweep over you appreciatively, though when he sees your obvious pregnancy he freezes. The shock of seeing him makes your legs weak. Cally lets out a panicked yelp when you knees buckle, but he's already darting forward, catching your arms gently and helping you to a seat.

"Careful there sweetheart." he says and god does that warm your chest. You remember the last time you heard him say that, it had been when you'd bumped into him in the bar.

"What are you doing here?" you ask breathlessly as Cally scurries off to get you a drink and he glances at you for permission before pulling a chair up next to you.

"Remembered you talking about your dream of opening a café. When i got back to town I spotted the name nd wondered if it was just a coincidence." he tells you, but you can see his eyes keep drifting towards your stomach. He's obviously trying to figure out if its his. But it takes a moment for you to respond because you can't believe that he remembered that. It'd been an offhanded comment you'd made while the two of you had been enjoying late night takeout before going at it another round.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you put a hand over his, biting your lip, "Listen. I. I don't want you to feel obligated or anything. I would have told you sooner only I didn't have any way to contact you."

"It's mine." he says for you. You nod, cursing inwardly when tears start to sting your eyes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Like I said. I'm doing fine. I don't expect anything from you. I've got a plan. I'm looking for bigger flats."

He stares at you in silence, expression unreadable. You worry for a minute about what he's going to say. You've been prone to overthinking everything since becoming pregnant and now suddenly having the father of your child reappearing in your life. It's a lot.

John squeezes your hand gently halting the panic as you look back up at him.

"I would very much like to be able to meet the kid when they get here. If you'd let me." he tells you hesitantly, "Being in the Military I don't know how often I'd be able to be around, but if you let me I'd like to be in their life."

All of your emotions flood you like a tidal wave at his confession. You burst into tears, letting him pull you into a firm, but careful hug.

"Yes. Of course. I just didn't want you to feel like I was pressuring you. You have every right to know them too." You promise tearfully, smiling at him as he thumbs the tears from your cheeks.

He insists on exchanging numbers so he can contact you and in case you need anything. He won't always be able to answer, but he promises to do his best. Then he bashfully asks if you'll tell him about what's happened so far. Shyly you tell him you've written the entire experience and kept the scans.

He eventually leaves you to get back to work, but the copy of the ultrasound photos you kept in your wallet is tucked into his jacket pocket and he promised to meet you at your flat for dinner and to collect your pregnancy journal so he can catch up on everything.