#safety helmet price

[windsorhelmets]

Stylish Helmets In India From Top Brands

India is one of the largest two- wheeler requests in the world. Yet when it comes to road safety, our record is bottomless. India has one of the loftiest in the world. structure isn’t the only issue to condemn. numerous two- wheeler riders don’t prefer to wear helmets in- malignancy of strict law enforcement. More frequently than not, those who use helmets are wearing an ill- befitting bone which does n’t offer important protection in case of an accident open helmet

Coverage :  There are colorful types of helmets depending on how important of your head is covered. Consequently, there’s open face helmet, full- face,  off- road etc. While full- face is the stylish option for a biker, an open- face is good enough for a scooterist. The style or content is one’s particular choice.

Shape:  The external shape of the helmet, or shell, can vary depending on the style and brand. still, the internal shape is more important. The internal shape must act the wear and tear’s head shape. mortal heads come in numerous shapes, from round, to round, to earth- shaped, to egg-shaped.However, there can be several pressure points on the wear and tear’s head which can make him her uncomfortable, If the internal shape of the helmet doesn’t act the wear and tear’s head- shape. Also, the wear and tear’s chin shouldn’t touch the chin bar. The wear and tear should be suitable to open and close his/ her mouth comfortably while wearing a helmet. All these are stylish checked by trying out the helmet in person. Avoid shopping for helmets, online or through an familiarity (buy helmet online)

Size : The size of the helmet is of utmost significance and dispensable to say, it must fit the wear and tear’s head impeccably – neither tight nor loose.However, the helmet can slide off or get stuck on one side in case of a fall, If it’s loose.However, there’s constant pressure on the head which isn’t healthy in the long run, not to mention discomfort, If it’s too tight. While trying out a helmet, wear it and shake your head over and down as well as left to right. The helmet must stay in place and not move with these movements.

Type of inside filling :  The inside filling must be soft, comfortable and must press on your cheeks, face, brows and tabernacles impeccably, without causing any discomfort. Also, the bumper used must be suitable to absorb humidity and further, the inner filling should be removable and washable. Differently, it can get ripe over time, along with the threat of developing fungus. Fungus can beget respiratory affections over time (helmets india)

Ventilation : The below point brings us to the coming point – ventilation. There should be enough ventilation holes or places either on the front, sides or back, so that air can flow in freely and help you breathe comfortably. Check this out while buying the helmet.

Visor : The bill is important as the rider’s vision and in turn his/ her safety is dependent on that. A good bill must be so designed that it’ll not block your supplemental vision and will help you have a large angle of view. It shouldn’t be too dark as it can vitiate your vision on a cloudy day or in the gloamings. In case the bill has numerous scrapes, it must be changed as these can also affect your vision.

Weight  : The helmet mustn’t be too heavy as this can hurt the neck and upper back, and beget orthopedic conditions like spondylitis, latterly on, to the wear and tear.

Noise- protection :  There should be low medium noise and minimum wind- noise after wearing the helmet, or during a lift. Differently, if the noise is high, it affects the quality of experience for the rider. It’s preferable to buy a helmet that has a chin curtain which helps shut off some of the noise.

Colour :  The helmet should rather be of light colour as also it absorbs lower heat from the sun and keeps you comfortable. Dark coloured helmets can get hot snappily and transmit the heat to the wear and tear’s head and face, outside.

Composition :  The external shell offers utmost of the protection in case of an accident. The consistence of the shell and material used for the same decide the quality or safety aspect of a helmet. Avoid helmets that are vended on the roadside and veritably low- priced. The accoutrements used and shell consistence, are both questionable and can compromise your safety in case of a fall. Buy ingrained , good- quality helmets from a exchange safety helmet price

[falcontradingcowll]

Does your supplier tell these quality hacks of Bahrain safety equipment?

Are you looking for expert tips that your supplier keeps under wraps? You can have quality guaranteed for your safety shops after reading this blog. Here we shall take you to secure yourself with top-notch equipment. Are you ready to learn the safety practices? Intelligent, Secure, and safe landing! We are glad to have you here! Whether you are looking for Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, or Bahrain!…

[valkyrieromanoff]

HOW BAD BATCH WOULD REACT IF YOU KISS THEIR NOSE?

warning:  mostly fluff, mention of past traumas, very slight angst

a/n: I still can't believe that yesterday was the last episode of Bad Batch, I don't think I can cry enough, or think about what my next few weeks will be like without the weekly dose of comfort and tension that this series has given me. I've never been as connected to something as I was to Bad Batch, I'm very happy with the ending they had, but it's what they say, even happy goodbyes are hard, so to stop myself from crying (again, because yesterday it seemed impossible to). 

I wrote about how I think the bad batch would react if they received a kiss on the nose, honestly, these don't have a well-defined plot, and the reactions happen in different time frames, they're not linear, anyway, I hope you like it ;)

✦ HUNTER

words: 368

You two had been dating for a few months now, and in this moment, you were on the Marauder, Hunter seated in one of the armchairs while you attended to a small cut on his forehead. He had decided to remove his helmet in the midst of the mission, only to inadvertently collide with a low-hanging tree branch.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you imagined the scene. It seemed almost ironic that the clone with heightened senses hadn't noticed the obstacle right in front of him. Your fingers delicately brushed aside strands of his hair as you reached for the alcohol swab, prompting a low sigh from Hunter. 

"Are you alright?" you ask, your voice laced with concern as you met his gaze with a gentle frown.

"Uhm," Hunter mumbled, downplaying the severity of the injury. He had weathered far worse wounds on countless missions, yet the tenderness with which you cared for him made each sensation feel heightened, imbued with an intimacy he had not known before.

"It's all done now, dear," you assured, your tone a soothing balm as you withdrew slightly to retrieve a bandage, your movements deliberate and tender.

As you leaned forward to apply the bandage, a spontaneous impulse overcame you, and you pressed a soft kiss to his nose. Hunter's initial reaction was one of surprise, his features momentarily frozen in disbelief. But as the warmth of your affection seeped into his being, his defenses melted away, replaced by a tender smile.

His hands instinctively found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until you stood between his legs, your proximity a comforting anchor amidst the chaos of your turbulent lives. 

Hunter enveloped you in his embrace, resting his head against your chest as he surrendered to the solace you offered. With his eyes closed, he savored the tranquility of the moment, the rhythmic cadence of your heartbeat, a symphony of that he would always find peace in.

You ran your fingers through his hair lovingly, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment as you both lingered in each other's arms. You found sanctuary, a fleeting respite from the trials that awaited you beyond the confines of the Marauder.

✦ CROSSHAIR

words: 538

"You know, honestly, it's not that bad, it's kind of cool, actually," you remarked wittily, your gaze drifting to where Crosshair's missing hand would have been. Though the absence was conspicuous, its significance hung in the air, a tangible reminder of the sacrifices made in their line of duty, in their last mission.

"You say that because it's not your hand," Crosshair retorted, his tone tinged with bitterness. He harbored a complex mixture of emotions—gratitude for their successful mission, relief at Omega's safety, and a lingering sense of emptiness that gnawed at him from within.

The absence of his hand served as a constant reminder of the price he had paid, both physically and emotionally. An undercurrent of guilt lingered within him, the thought of losing any of his brothers, after Tech, was a burden he wasn't sure he could bear.

"You're probably right," you agreed softly, settling beside him on the bed, the space between you bridged by mere inches. In the silence that followed, words seemed inadequate to express the complexities of emotions swirling within him. How does one greet someone returned from the depths of darkness, bearing physical and emotional scars?

Crosshair's gaze drifted to his arms, his expression clouded with a mixture of sorrow and resentment as he grappled with the reality of his altered form. Unwanted memories threatened to surface, accompanied by the phantom pains that plagued him even after  Hemlock's demise and the buried horrors of the Necromancer Project. Though dulled with time,  they lingered still, a persistent echo of his past traumas, an unfunny joke to remind him that he may have made it out alive, but so much had been taken from him.

"We could ask Phee to look for a robotic hand," you offered gently, your eyes radiating warmth and affection that Crosshair found unfamiliar yet comforting. The tenderness in your gaze was foreign to him, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of his former life,  the ghosts that haunted him. "Or a screwdriver, like Echo's."

Crosshair shook his head, a gesture laden with unspoken burdens. The absence of his hand symbolized more than mere physical loss; it signified a release from the shackles of his past traumas and the self-imposed guilt that threatened to consume him. An incoherent responsibility that maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't stayed with the Empire, Tech would still be with them.

You waited patiently for his response, your touch a gentle reassurance against the storm raging within him. When he offered no words, you cupped his face in your hands, drawing him into a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Crosshair cast a sharp glance in your direction, surprised and confused by the unexpected action. His stoic facade momentarily falters in the wake of your affectionate gesture, a small, soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Though reluctant to show his vulnerabilities, he found solace in the warmth of your presence amidst the turmoil of his thoughts and the ache of his phantom pains. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes—a silent reminder that he was not alone, that even in his darkest moments, you stood by his side, a beacon of light in the shadows.

✦ ECHO

words: 514

"So, did you really come to help me or just escape from socializing?" Echo asked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement as he extended his arm, waiting for the tool he had requested. But you seemed lost in thought, your attention elsewhere as you failed to retrieve the tool he needed.

"Oh, of course I came to help you," you retorted softly, finally handing him the Scomp link, though not without a hint of distraction. Echo sighed inwardly, a pang of familiarity washing over him as he adjusted to your absent-mindedness. "Sorry, what was that again?"

"The Carbon chisel," Echo pointed out, gesturing to the tool lying within reach.

You handed over the tool, your gaze lingering on him with a curious intensity as he busied himself with repairing a problem on the Marauder. A sense of restlessness gnawed at you, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down upon your shoulders.

"Is something bothering you?" Echo's calm voice cut through the silence, his attention still focused on his task.

"I, I just feel like there’s something missing," you confessed hesitantly, your words a hesitant whisper that hung heavy in the air, a sense of disconnection gnawing at your soul, a hollow ache that refused to be silenced. "We're safe here in Pabu, surrounded by those warm and kind people, yet I can't shake this feeling of... emptiness."

"I understand," Echo murmured, his voice a soft echo of empathy as he peeled away the layers of his own turmoil. The weight of his words settled upon you like a heavy cloak, the burden of his past traumas a burden shared between kindred spirits. "That feeling of being part of something but not quite belonging."

"I saw my team fall one by one," Echo continued, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow that cut through the silence like a knife. "Being the last survivor leaves a bitter taste, a nagging question of why. Why me? What made me different from my brothers?"

You listened in reverent silence, your heart aching with the weight of his confession. For Echo, the scars of battle ran deeper than the wounds of the flesh, a haunting reminder of the sacrifices made in service of a cause greater than themselves.

"But you can't live behind your ghosts," Echo declared firmly, his words a solemn vow to embrace the dawn of a new day. "If you've earned a chance at a new life, you can't waste it."

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips, his unwavering resolve a hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you both. Without a word, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of his nose, a silent promise of solidarity and understanding.

Echo's reaction was one of surprise, his features momentarily frozen in disbelief. But as the warmth of your affection washed over him, his stoic facade crumbled, replaced by a soft smile. Amidst the chaos you find a silent acknowledgment of shared struggles and silent victories, a testament to the bond that transcends time and space.

✦ TECH

words: 509

"In essence, hyperdrive is the key to unlocking the vast reaches of the galaxy, allowing us to explore new worlds and civilizations beyond the confines of our own star system. It is a realm of infinite possibilities, yet also fraught with peril. Mastery of hyperspace travel represents the pinnacle of technological achievement, offering both promise and peril to those who dare to venture into its depths." Tech concluded his long and detailed explanation, his words punctuated by the hum of the ship's systems as it idled on the tropical planet's surface.

As Tech spoke, you remained the sole audience to his monologue, absorbing his every word with rapt attention. Crosshair and Hunter had already departed to try to steal another ship, while Echo focused on assessing the Marauder's damages. 

Wrecker and Omega had ventured off to explore the surrounding area, leaving only you to engage with Tech's meticulous discourse. Nodding along and occasionally murmuring affirmations, you appeared genuinely engaged, a rare occurrence for him.

"Honestly, your explanation was very impressive and enriching. I hadn't stopped to think about those points," you commented softly, a warm smile gracing your lips.

Tech's response was hesitant, his usual confidence faltering in the face of your unexpected praise. "Well, uhm, it's not that difficult, the information already exists, I just made sure I knew it," he mumbled, his gaze shifting to his holopad as he struggled to process your kindness.

"Oh, believe me, it's impressive. Your brain is impressive," you insisted, your genuine admiration evident in your tone. "Anyway, I like listening to you talk. I always learn a lot."

Tech's brow furrowed in confusion, his mind racing to comprehend your motives. He found comfort in the familiarity of his holopad, its data offering a sanctuary from the uncertainty of social interaction. Yet, your persistence was unnerving, your unwavering kindness a foreign concept to him.

Ignoring your words seemed the safest course of action, a way to deflect the unfamiliar emotions stirring within him. And then, without warning, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his nose. 

Tech's reaction was immediate, his body tensing with surprise as he adjusted his glasses in confusion. "Why did you do that?" he blurted out, his analytical mind already dissecting the situation in search of logical explanations.

"Because you look cute all concentrated," you confessed gently, your smile soft and affectionate.

Tech fell silent, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions. Though uncertain of how to process your gesture, a subtle warmth blossomed within him, an unfamiliar sensation that tugged at the corners of his lips. As you lingered by his side, he found himself drawn to your presence. Perhaps, he mused, there was more to interpersonal interaction than he had previously understood.

As you smiled at him, Tech allowed himself a small, hesitant smile in return. In that ephemeral moment, amidst the complexity of the intricacies of human emotion, Tech found himself grappling with a newfound sense of connection – a connection he couldn't quite explain but was reluctant to ignore.

✦ WRECKER

words: 336

After a successful mission, Wrecker and you decide to buy some Mantell Mix before heading back to Cid's bar. The strong clone insisted that Omega would love the surprise, but you knew a big part of the reason was because Wrecker wanted to indulge in the candy himself. With a playful grin, you agreed, knowing how much he enjoyed the sweet treat.  

As you both bought the candy, Wrecker couldn't resist sneaking a few pieces into his mouth, his eyes lighting up with childlike excitement. You playfully scolded him, reminding him to save some for Omega, to which he grudgingly agreed, though he couldn't resist sneaking more when he thought you weren't looking.

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you followed Wrecker down a dimly lit alleyway that he claimed was a shortcut discovered by Tech during his planet mapping. The distant flashing lights obscure your view, and you stumble over an irregularity in the ground, sending the packet of Mantell Mix flying and sweets scattering into puddles.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Wrecker's concern was immediate as he knelt down beside you, checking for any signs of injury from your fall.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but there go the sweets," you remarked playfully, rubbing your neck where it had taken the brunt of the fall.

Wrecker's response was unexpectedly tender. "You're more important than sweets," he declared, his voice sincere as he offered you a warm smile.

His innocence and sweetness warmed your heart, and impulsively you leaned in and planted a kiss on his nose. Wrecker blinked in confusion for a moment before his face broke into a wide grin, his laughter filling the alleyway as he swept you up into a bear hug.

"Ha! You got me!" he exclaimed, his voice booming with infectious joy as he spun you around in exaggerated circles, his strength making it feel like you were weightless. 

You couldn't help but join in his laughter, the sound echoing through the alley as you surrendered to the moment. 

[owlight]

My request: kid, law, marco and robin (only if you are comfortable writting female characters) reacting at gn reader (non devil fruit user) saving them from drowning. hope you have a nice day, you are very talented!

Thanks for requesting 😔🫶

I do females Characters , specially robin cuz she my wife actually 🤭💖 and lmao this reminded me of that one time when I almost drowned ngl

Tags:drowning situation pretty much, Suggestive language with kid cuz he built that way,fluff mostly , ignore mistakes plz

GN!Reader saving Eustass kid,Trafalgar law,Marco,Nico Robin from drowning

Eustass Kid

He only drowned because his ass refuse to back from any challenge or fight ,which how he now end up sinking to the water with an angry pout and arms crossed,he is that stubborn and would spend his last moments as a stubborn idiot

someone challenged him to jump to the water and his ass is petty so he did it without any thought to the fact he can't swim

But Gladly! You dive in fast the moment he end up in the water and grab him tightly,good thing water make him weightless or you would have drowned trying to get him out

" and ugh..you are so heavy" you tells him as you pull him back to the safety of the shores ,kid scowl at you " you are just weak pipesqueak" you look at him as you swim ,you are tempted to leave him to drown for a moment,but in the back of your mind you can see killer masked face telling you not to do that because you would regret it later... ,you sighs,the price you pay for love...

He would not be thankful that you saved him, cuz you are his partner and Part of his crew , it's like your official duty to help from drowning cuz killer can't do it anymore :(

He Would suggest you do CPR on his dick instead of his mouth once he gained enough oxygen going through his Brain,you drop him on the sand so hard you hear a loud 'thump!'

You're literally the life guard of the kid pirates , it's almost funny that you have to drag kid out the water everytime his problematic ass fall into water

He get into these situations a lot ,you suggested once that he add floaty on his outfit since he always be falling into water,he threw a wrench at you but missed and it hit killer right at his helmet

He is very grateful for you secretly, he would never let you know but when he see you swimming toward him to save him? You look like an Angel and he is so thankful that you always willing to get into water to save him

He tries to be careful more (doesn't work) but it's the thoughts that count

He say the dumbest most inappropriate CPR jokes every time,you sometimes tempted to throw him back in water but he is already so heavy (nd you love him)

7.4/10 saving experience, should have let him struggle bit more in water ,maybe the water would have washes all the salty attitude off him someday (?)

Law

This happens rarely really,he is very careful and usually use his devil fruit to avoid falling Into open water like that

But he once was very unlucky and fell off the submarine ship deck after a strong wave hit the ship ,one moment he was standing talking to you,the other moment he in the water sinking down the water ,he tries his best to hold his breath..last thing he see is a blurry figure pulling him up from the deep water

"I got you.. I got you" you says as you pull him out the water to the deck,you start performing CPR till he is coughing,he blink few times as he sees you above him, looking at him with worried eyes that melt to a smile "here you are lovebug ,good to have you awake" you tells him and law cheeks suddenly feel heated,he remove his wet hat off his head and sits down "thank you (y/n)-ya" law says as he looks at you with a little rare smile

"not a problem,that was a strong wave ,we should probably get into the submarine,might be a storm coming" you tells him as you pick up his hat and help him stands up,law can't help but looks at you adoringly...he loves you so much

He so thankful after that,not outloud but by the way he caress your face gently and smiles at you,a real genuine smile,rare sight only meant to his special people and you are so lucky you're one of them

He is more careful than everyone on this list ,so it won't happen often or again,he usually have fast reflexes to not get in that situation,it only happened then cuz he was so smitten by you(so cheesy ngl)

He will be thankful for a very long time,will go bit more easy on you ,no one would notice but you really ,it's wholesome

He give you extra cuddle every night from that day, cuz you his hero now,look at you getting spoiled rotten by him,so lucky

He appreciates you lot,thank you for loving and handling this stoic and secret nerd, he loves you so much just wait till he is no longer a flustered mess when getting affection from you

He really wanted to say that cheesy dumb CPR joke..he want to so bad,but he know you won't ever recover from hearing him says that..so he wait till perfect chance..

10/10 good saving experience

Marco

One moment he was standing watching the beautiful sea , then suddenly a strong wave hit and he was too slow to use his devil fruit to fly away,he hold his breath as much as he possibly can,he can't help but feel helpless,what an embarrassing way to die...he fought in many battles,yet a strong wave is what took him out...

He feel bit dizzy at the lack of oxygen and he hopes that's the others weren't taken by the wave as well,he would feel bad if they too ended up a victim of this unfortunate event,he start chocking on water that start entering his lungs and it burn like hell,he wonder if you would forgive him for Begin so careless-he did not have the time to think more before he sees you swimming to grab him so tightly, looking very determined,Marco slightly smile as he let himself pass out,he hope that the CPR he taught you would be enough to pull him through this

"......And you are awake finely!" Your voice says as Marco slowly open his eyes and coughs the salty water "ah...sorry,was enjoying my nap" Marco jokes and he can see you shaking your head "not funny..Next time no standing near open water when you know it might be storming" you scold him and he laughs as he sits up "promise you that yoi, don't worry" he ruffles your hair "thank you for saving me" he tells you and you smiles "oh no problem! Just know you own me a dinner for giving me the scare of a lifetime!" You says playfully and Marco can't help but love you a bit more

He is 100% thankful for your help

He doesn't drown or get into water often so you don't have to Worry about this happening again

usually he is the one saving you from almost falling into water so it's a nice change of pace

He would make a CPR joke later on when the situation is long forgotten to make you squirm a bit

He will make sure to get you your favorite snack later as a thanks for saving him because he loves you

11/10 saving experience,very polite birdman

Robin

How unfortunate,robin thought as the Battle between the strawhats and the Marines got bit too harsh and a Canon hit where she was standing sending her flying into the ocean water,she could say she lived a long life at least and died trying to protect her friends...she wonder if you would keep her collection of books safe after her untimely death-

Then suddenly,She is begin pulled out the water fast by someone and by the way she is held so tightly,she know it's You who had jumped to save her,she is slowly losing consciousness,but she smiles slightly as she trust she is in good hands now

"wake up damn it!-i can't lose you like this" your voice says as you continue preforming CPR on her,she open her eyes and cough the sea water she had swallowed earlier "thanks god robin-i was so worried" you tells her as you embrace her tightly,she can see that You are on the Sunny and it seem like the strawhats had managed to escape the Marines clutch which is good..you look not injured which is good,robin take a deep breath before embracing you back Gently " I apologies, I'm okay , don't worry my dear,thank you for saving me" she mumble softly as she hug you tighter "don't thank me...just..next time be careful okay? I almost had a heart attack seeing you fall into the water'' you scold lightly and that cause Robin to chuckles "I promise to be careful next time" she tells you with a gentle smile across her face

She is very grateful that you've saved her life,you always got her back even when she says she doesn't need help,you still offer to help her and watch her back ,so she is very grateful for that

She would thank you by begin extra affectionate with you for the rest of that day ,which you appreciate it a lot (Sanji is eating his hand as he envy you)

She doesn't usually end up in these situations,she usually able to get herself out of water by using her devil fruit ,so you don't have to worry about her much

Though ever since if the devil fruit strawhats needed to move through water,she would pick you as the person to help her across

She appreciates your help always,and she loves you a bit more ever since you've saved her from drowning

She kiss you later after that lot , thanks kisses she would call them playfully

13/10 saving experience ,she is the best

(This been in my drafts since months sorry for the lateness bbg)

[divinehedons]

fallen gods.

Pairing: dark!Din Djarin x f!reader

Summary: The life of a bounty hunter rejects conformity with humanity. When the Mandalorian abandons you on a job, you swore to yourself you would never forgive him. That doesn't mean it would stop him from repenting; no matter how twisted it turns him against you.

Warnings: This is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact. Non-con turned dub-con? (tagging as both for safety), angst, Din Djarin is a touch-starved mf, rough explicit unprotected p in v, breeding kink, some form of body worship, the helmet comes off!

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated; requests for shorter drabbles welcome!

Wit and cunning is the way of life for many within the galaxy. It was no secret. Work yourself to the bone, always look death in the eye, and trust no one. It was the last of those rules that always ended up forgotten. Complacency was fool's gold, love is a vulnerability.

You had trusted the Mandalorian once. In a different lifetime. You had worked a few bounties together, shared some battles, fought in others. "You know, some people would refer to us as a strained friendship," you once told him within the bowels of space, surrounded with nothing but the shine of distant far-off stars and the bellowing walls of the Razor Crest.

"We aren't other people," he merely said in return, gruff and closed off as ever, handing you your half of the bounty. "See you whenever, cyari'ka."

It was ideal. It was perfect. Neither served no country, you bore no allegiances and he belonged to his covert; followers only where the credits go.

It all came to a head in a mission gone bad, the experience as sharp as sour milk on a summer's day. It is a memory that will forever tighten your jaw, a memory from which you have never found in your heart to forgive him. Not when you pounded against the airlock windows, watching him limp away in his tarnished armor while you screamed for him, while the enemy eventually drags you away.

He abandoned you. So, what? So you get tortured until parts of you are forever mangled and stirred before you were flushed out, abandoned, about to float into space if you hadn't crawled your way into the nearest transport. So it goes.

Or so it would have, if you never saw the Mandalorian again.

In Tatooine's cantina, drenched in the shadows beneath your cloak, examining a bounty puck with a raised brow, settling for your price. It was some noble. An easy job, something to keep your mind busy. When you hear that all too familiar sound of his boots, you glance in the direction of the entryway, where the shadows of the past you had wanted so badly to worry came crawling out and kneeling before him.

He who stood glorious and brand new. He with his somewhat new beskar armour. He with a Child trailing behind him, following him so eagerly and so joyously that you feel the envy sinking into your bones. He who had abandoned you was happy, glorious and brand new.

Perhaps it was how inhuman the new armour looked on his already too emotionless body language. But there simply was something about him that was chillingly, undeniably cold.

You finish your drink, you pocket your possessions, and you pass through him gruffly as you leave. You feel his gaze follow you as you disappeared into the warm midday of the two suns, never once looking back as you clenched your fists in your hands. You do not see him again.

At least not until you brought back with you the head of your bounty to collect your payment.

You still reek of blood when you savour drink in Nevarro, the weight of the credits in your pocket enough to keep you satisfied. Your fingers are marked with your slaughter when you feel that all-too-familiar presence sinking into the seat beside yours.

"So," he began, as if grasping and searching for the right words to say. "You seem well." You try and focus on the drink before you, skin almost crawling with the way his eyes seemed to take in the details of your changed form from up close. The way he looked indicated he had done this before from a distance, that he was unsatisfied without knowing more.

"I'm not talking to you, Mando."

You rise to leave, drink unfinished as you try and pass by him. But when his gloved hand encloses your arm, you freeze in your spot, jaw clenched as you finally look back to him and letting him see the surface of your damages. You feel his hold slacken as he comprehended the shifts in your features. The slope of your nose, broken and resetted in a way that was not quite right. The cracked surface of your lower lip, scabbed over and still somewhat healing. The indication of more injuries, barely peeking past the collar of your tabard.

"Do you have a place for the night?"

It is how you end up in the open evening by his small home, watching the darkness as he asked you to wait as he soothed his youngling to sleep. He returns with liquor that slowly weakens you, opens you up to his insistence, his curiosity. So you tell him. You tell him of what happened when you were taken away. You tell him of those incomprehensible days, spitting out the details as if by doing so, they would cease from haunting your days ever again.

"You abandoned me, Mando," you finally grit out, moving away when he reaches to touch you again. "And you come back with brand new armour, a home, and a child-" You swing again, working up a temper as your blows seem to hit him but never affect him. You cannot see his features, and perhaps he laughs at your meager attempts of vengeance.

You hit and hit until his large hand catches both of your wrists, pulling you both into the warmth of his arms and the cruel chill of beskar, emanating past the layers of clothing. You allow a whine of frustration, struggling in his grip as the murmur escapes him. Let me see, cyari'ka.

You abandon the bottle of spirits. You let him half-carry and half-drag you to his bedroom, easing you into bed despite your protestations. You attempt to struggle—and yet it is fruitless. As if your inebriated, broken body stood a chance against a Mandalorian at his prime. Skillfully, his free hand frees you from your cloak and tabard, more and more skin revealed to show him the markings left on your skin, evidence of his betrayal and your sufferings immortalized in the hymn of broken skin.

"Dank Farrik, adi'ka-"

"Let go of me, Mando!" Your cries fall on somehow deaf ears, wrists pinned above your head as he trails his gloved fingers so softly, so gently over the litany of unseen tortures.

"Din Djarin," he finally speaks, visor turning to you once more as you regard the cool beskar helmet in shaky silence. "My name is Din Djarin."

There is a moment of silence, both of you listening as to whether or not his child had awoken with your struggles. He never breaks your gaze, or at least you imagined not to, seeing little behind the dark slits of his visor. "I never wanted to abandon you."

You shut your eyes as you struggle once more in his arms. You attempt a scream but all you hear is the hissing of air, the all-too-human sound of breathing, the sensation of it on your neck. When he speaks again, his voice sounds different, now unhindered by the modulator.

"Look at me. Please."

It is rare to hear the sound of his voice unhindered by the distances that had always stood between them. It is even rarer to hear him with such brokenness seeping through the cracks of the cadences of his voice. When you open your eyes, you are greeted with his own. The colour of amber. The pink of his lips. Facial hair and waves and waves of chocolate.

He once asked why you had gotten into this mess. You spoke well. You spend moments of nothingness between bounties reading things he could barely comprehend. You asked too if he had ever seen insects floating in amber. He tilts his head as if he waited for you to continue.

"Well, here we are, Mandalorian," you had said, tilting your head back and shutting your eyes as you relaxed. "There is no why. There simply is."

Were you now the same insect, drowning in the amber of the Mandalorian's eyes? Of all the things he was devoted to, the ways of his covert were perhaps at the top of that list. Had he willingly rendered himself an apostate now? For what?

He whispers to you as his lips trace your skin, despite your whines and your attempts to evade his lips. Again and again, the same syllables repeating with each and every mark he came across.

Mesh'la. Mesh'la. Mesh'la.

The fight within you is renewed when he attempts to bind you to the bed, wrists captured with bindings digging into your skin. You protest, you cry, you almost beg. But when you look him in the eye, you know he will never listen. You know he is overtaken by his own desire to be clean, to prove to himself that he is good.

"I hate you," you finally whisper, "and I'll hate you even more when you do this, Din Djarin."

He pauses for a moment and fragments of you wonder if it is enough to snap him out of his delusions, enough to bring him enough sanity for reason. A flicker of familiarity registers in his gaze, only to disappear once more in the grip of darkness as he kisses you wantonly, hands cradling your cheeks with a gritted sigh of exasperation.

"Pray that it will stop me from wanting you, adi'ka."

Those words tether you and freeze you to your spot while he continues his descent along your vulnerable frame. Gloved hands tug on your pants and the rest of your underwear, pulling it just down to your ankles with a broken moan at the sight of your skin. He uses his teeth to pull off the right hand glove, two fingers spreading you open into the cool evening. His knees weaken at the sight of your tight cunt, all for him to savour whether or not you wanted him to.

"I heard you," he murmurs, raising himself back to face level as he watches your features once more. "In those long nights in the Crest. I heard the way you whimpered when you get close. The way you kept begging at air. I was right there, cyare, I would have given you everything."

You vaguely remember those dark and lonely evenings, cooped up with nothing to do and hours upon hours of time. You stare back at him and whine softly, tilting your head back as your cheeks redden. "You told me we weren't that kind of partners so I... I never tried-"

He kisses you with teeth and hunger, the way the beast devours the prey at the end of a long, arduous hunt. He bites your lower lip enough to reopen where it once split. When your blood reaches his tongue, he could have sworn it was the first he ever felt somewhat close to being satisfied. Your pained yelp is sweeter than music. He looks to your face and he sees the face of something he had never believed in. Nothing else mattered, there was only you.

It was then that he resolved it within himself. He will take and he will take until you quell the hellfire of want that plagued him all this time.

It takes less than a minute before he has impatiently freed his aching cock, weeping with pre-cum and aching for the warmth of your walls. It takes even shorter for his thumb to brush your clit repeatedly, despite your protests and attempts to kick him off, as if it was his last mercy to his beloved prey.

Your cries rear to their most desperate when he grinds the head of his desire against you, giving you just enough of a taste of just how much more he can ruin you. And when he does fuck into your cunt in one fluid motion, it all becomes too much. The burn from the stretch of your walls accomodating him, the burn of his beard against your neck as he adds to the litany of markings against your skin, and even to the gentleness in his hands that which contrasted the violence of his loins.

While you wept, he becomes utterly frozen at the embrace of your own flesh against his. The suffocating breath of pleasure bubbling beneath your skin, like an itch that provokes, dares to be scratched.

If such were the sins of the flesh, then he wouldn't want to look anywhere else.

He fucks you steadily, desperately while he kisses away the tears on your cheeks, fingers tracing each and every mark that to him belonged only entirely to you, that made you what you are to him- his very own violent act of creation. He fucks you as your tears melt into whines, and then again into soft moans, cradling you as one would with a babe.

You orgasm twice despite your struggles. It is a sound he knows all too well and a sensation that is all too new to him. You'd clench and tremble around him in fits of divine ecstasy, lips parted as your whines become all the more sweeter. And when he wouldn't stop, neither did your climax halt for you, even when fresh tears escaped you just from how overwhelming it had gotten.

It is then that he imagines something else entirely. Your warrior's body, straining and struggling so courageously as you birth him a child, his bloodline expanding, intertwined with that of your own. He pictures the wit and cunning that flows from you, pictures it in Mandalorians in battle. The mere thought of its possibility is enough for a tremor to quake through his already too eager frame.

He shushes you gently, kissing you once more as his thrusts stutter, struggles, attempts to hold back the orgasm that threatens to stop the barrage of heaven he had found himself privy to. He kisses you once again, the burn of his beard against your sensitive skin just adding once more into the sensation of the third orgasm that builds and bubbles beneath your skin. In silence, his ungloved hand sinks between you, pinching one of your nipples with a tug before rolling it between his fingers, just enough that you arch into him, begging him without words for more.

"Birth me a warrior, cyari'ka. One as strong and as glorious as you are right now." Your eyes watch him, attempting to speak when two of his fingers sink between your parted lips, your renewed struggle weak and meaningless when he freezes, grits his teeth, hardness drawn and aiming for one goal, thrusting harder and harder and holding just to see your features contort into your third orgasm. It is then that he loses all control, fucking up into you with stuttering hips. "Such a brilliant girl. You'll take my seed well, won't you?"

His warmth encompasses you, fills you, floods you with his seed. Your body surrendering into his hold as he fucks the both of you through your release, body falling into yours with a pleasured hum.

He stays, as if the longer he remains, the higher the likelihood it would be that his seed takes. His weight against yours soothes you into a soft, dreamless sleep, hardly interrupted by the way he frees you from your bindings. You hum in your sleep, mind freed and flying away into the nothingness of rest.

You whisper in the limbo between dreams and reality. "When will you learn how to regret, Din Djarin?"

He couldn't help but soften as you melted into the most peaceful slumber he had ever seen you take. Only when your frame completely relaxes does he finally speak. "Adi'ka, I have lived in it without you. And I shall do everything I am capable of to never experience it again."

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

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“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Jason stays largely impassive as Alfred checks him out. The only “wounds” he actually managed to obtain were two long surface level cuts from a buff guy with a lucky knife, the mildest limp known to man, and some bruises. He’s got bigger stuff to worry about than what little damage he took.

Somehow Mask had gotten wind that Hood had set his eyes on his most recent purchase and had responded by borrowing some of Penguin's men while the man was in court, catching Jason off guard. That either meant that Jason was getting sloppy or his collective had a mole.

A goddamn mole. Whoever it was must’ve been stupid or crazy to think they could get this over his head. Now he’ll have to deal with them, and soon, before he starts on any more plans.

There’s a pat on his arm that has Jason turning his head.

“There you go, Master Jason. Hardly a scratch and everything is treated.”

“Didn’t pay all this money on armor to get a scratch from a whole buncha pocket knives and baseball bats, Alfred.”

The old butler only raises a brow.

“Yes well, a particularly nasty bullet wound in Master Dick’s leg says anything is possible on a given day. Armor or no,” Alfred points to the two raised lines on either side of his forearms where he’d blocked that buff guy's slash for his face. “And clearly some fellow with a pocket knife did get a knick or two in.”

Jason shrugs. The guy had been aiming for his face. His face that had only been a target because he’d blown up the old helmet to catch Batman’s attention and his forearms and following Bruce’s rules were a small price to pay for those kids' safety.

“Still beat him though, so I think I’m good,” he spares the man a small fleeting smile.

Alfred worried too much over Bruce. Jason didn’t want him doing the same and stressing overtime about him as well.

“Of course,” Alfred says softly, patting him on the arm once more before turning to check up on whether Dick’s gotten enough food in him to get another dose of the good stuff.

Why the man had decided to fly off to help Jason when he was already injured was anybody's guess. Jason certainly wasn’t going to think about it too hard. His feelings around Dick were enough of a nightmare to detangle.

Jason’s ready to take that as his leave, wanting out before Nightfall and Batman - or godforbid, his replacement - throw his entire mood away, when a lone figure comes ambling into the Cave on foot and sends everyone on alert.

Dick hobbles rather gracefully for someone with a hole in his calf over to the Batcomputer to check the entrance cameras. Alfred admonishes him for putting too much pressure on his leg so soon after he’s reopened his stitches but follows after him nonetheless.

Jason closes in not far behind the two, hand hovering over his gun as he eyes the lone figure. They’re not in a rush or anything, that’s for sure. He’s never seen someone who wanted to kill him have such low gumption.

It hits him and he relaxes his hand a second before you call out.

“It’s me, guys! I just needed a break from Bruce so I walked!”

Your voice is different, he notes. Hoarse, fraying at the edges. Jason is intimately familiar with the feeling of falling apart. At Bruce’s hand too no less, which is undoubtedly why you're walking instead of pulling up with him. He can’t find it in him to feel too bad though. You might’ve taken a bullet for him but you were still a dick. And an unplanned for variable that he’d have to search more into.

Later.

Alfred takes to guiding you towards the med bay, talking to you like you’re old friends, but Jason’s never seen you before outside of tonight. As far as he knew the only female vigilante operating out of Gotham had been Batgirl before that fucking clown got to her too, and the only other woman of the house didn’t live here anymore.

Which is yet another thing Jason really doesn’t want to think about. He had felt pretty damn vindicated to learn about Y/n’s separation from Bruce until he pieced together the timeline and that the most likely cause for the split had been himself. He can admit to feeling bad about that for her sake. When he was a boy her and Bruce had seemed happy, he didn't want to be the cause of that ending for the woman.

Something harsh strikes through his chest and he forces his gaze off Nightfall and Alfred.

He needed to tell Y/n. She deserved to know - he wanted her to know! - he just didn’t want to deal with the inevitable. With Bruce the uncertainty pissed him off. He had needed the truth so bad it burned through him harsher than the pit snapping his mind back together ever could.

Problem was that in the end the answer had actually hurt. For all his speculations and phantom conversations with the man he once happily called “dad” none had been enough to prepare him for the reality of watching his father choose The Mission over him in real time.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment of the situation but to that Jason says: “So what?”

Maybe Bruce did love him, and maybe what made him throw that batarang wasn’t resentment or disappointment, but he still threw it. Through everything Jason still came second and Bruce still didn’t love him enough to fight for him.

He can’t keep ignoring that it wasn’t him that drew Bruce to Ethiopia that April; it was the Joker that drew Batman. Bruce hadn’t even been looking for him, and he could understand why, but that didn’t mean he had to be okay with it.

Either way, the little boy Jason used to be had stupidly expected to be proven wrong in that dilapidated apartment building.

Jason hasn’t listened to that particular ghost since having to hold his throat together.

“Red!”

He blinks back into himself to find the rest of him already in a defensive position at Dick Nightwing’s proximity.

“I’ve got some files for you if you’re interested. We haven’t been able to figure out what all Mask’s recent moves have meant, but if you cross reference it with whatever info you’ve got maybe…” the look he sends Jason feels pointed so he huffs and moves closer.

“I’ll be able to catch him up. Yeah, Wing, thanks.” He crosses his arms and raises a brow. “Whatdya want for it?”

Nightwing turns to him slowly. “Nothing. I don’t want a damn thing, Red,” he shrugs. “Consider it a favor.”

“Right. A favor.”

Jason doesn’t buy that that’s all he wants for a second. The more plausible reason is that the harddrive he’ll be given is bugged. So far they haven’t been able to find any of his operation and he knows Bruce has been chomping at the bit to find out what hole in the wall he crawls into at night.

His line of speculation gets cut off by Nightwing starting to prattle along about the contents of every file he’s giving him.

“I figure I could give you an update on Penguin’s case while you’re here too,” he glances back for Jason’s stiff nod before doing just that.

Jason half pays attention to flashes of Cobblepot taking the stand while largely doing his best to remember which of his guys ever worked closely with the man who’s nice and calm being held under public scrutiny.

It was City Hall’s worst kept secret that they were bought out by some big boss or the other. Cobblepot wouldn’t be convicted and they all knew it. Gotham’s politicians couldn’t ever leave well enough alone though and just had to go the extra mile of broadcasting their cities inner failings to the rest of the country.

“Hey.”

At the sound of his voice Jason immediately snaps his gaze to Nightwing. He doesn’t look back this time, eyes continuing to stay focused on the batcomputer’s giant screen.

“I just wanna say the offer still stands. Jay,” his name comes off rough from the other’s mouth. “I might not…agree with what you’re doing, but call me and I’ll be there, okay? My number’s still the same. If you remember it?”

The not-glance Nightwing sends him makes his throat constrict suspiciously. This was exactly why he was avoiding the acrobat. He’s all the more glad he decided to get a replacement instead of toughing this encounter out sans helmet.

“Yeah, I remember it,” he forces out.

“Good.” Nightwing continues, voice still oddly pinched while he drops another file into the harddrive’s folder. “That’s good.”

The trial tapers off after that and Grayson stops drawing out their conversation, closing out the tabs he’d opened and leaning over to snatch out the drive.

When he turns to him the older’s face is noticeably paler than before and his hands are clammy when he gives Jason his lackluster reward for putting up with the night’s bullshit.

He forces his arms down to his sides when Grayson stumbles into the table, no doubt bruising his hip, before stabilizing himself again with a tiny laugh. Jason will never admit that as much as it irritates him, he still admires the way Grayson manages to keep the sound from cracking at the edges.

Ever the fucking paragon.

“Thanks,” he nods to the medbay where Alfred and Nightfall are talking as she’s bandaged up. “And go lay down already before you collapse. I will laugh at you if you fall.”

“Heh, yeah, I’d better,” he runs his hand through his hair. “If I pass out again mom’ll kill me.”

Dick’s hand pauses midway through his hair and Jason can tell from the way he goes rigid that his eyes have snapped to where he’s standing.

He huffs, shoves the drive in his pocket and gives the older a mock salute before turning on his heels. On another day he’d probably harp on Grayson for the carelessness, make him squirm just for the hell of it, but he’s reached his people index for the day and he’s got work to do.

His second mother - not counting Sheila and her shitty cigarettes; he hopes she rots - is also someone he does not want to keep being reminded of and staying here will clearly be nothing but that.

She’s a subject he unfortunately can’t stop thinking about now though and he’s so over it his head’s starting to pound.

‘mom’ll kill me.’

Mom.

Y/n.

Jason counts his way through a deep breath. He’s got Nightwing’s information, now he can leave to start sorting his own mess with his people the Bat-Refuted way.

With Y/n he wasn’t going to let himself exist with a child's placations that maybe she’d prove him wrong. He already made that mistake with Bruce. She was his mom. In the same way Bruce was once his dad, but he’s not fifteen anymore and he no longer believes wholeheartedly in the second chance they’d provided. He can’t.

But still, for whatever bastardized mockery of life is in him, he doesn’t want the truth from Y/n as well. So no matter how much he craves to hear her voice again and feel her arms around him, the chances that she’ll reject the son Bruce forced upon her this time round were too high and he was tired of gambling.

He should rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later though, for his sake if nothing else. He wasn’t finished with Gotham yet and all the ‘what ifs’ stampeding over his train of thought could get him killed too early.

Again.

And nobody wants to read about another dead gutter rat who thought he could fly.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This chapter is supposed to be a brief slow down before I get back into the emotional gutter with part five.

I’m like 50/50 on this. I was trying to make everything connect but I don’t really think I succeeded. And what I mean by that is that some of Jason’s thought processes don’t flow smoothly into one another the way I want, but I’m tired of poking at it so this is what y’all get.

Regardless, I’m not mad at it and if you’d like to leave a comment that’d be appreciated, but I won’t respond cause this is a sideblog. I read everything though. 🫶🏾

Edited (cause I forgot what I wrote) on 3/18/23

[mistyresolve]

| Incident Report - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 4.5K

Summary - The reader is the pilot of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killer in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. Each time she is called to a mission with them she immediately thinks of one person, Ghost. And she’s not the only one finding it hard to focus on the mission when working with the other. So when she devises a plan to finally get what they both desperately need, Ghost happily obliges her.  

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY,  swearing, SoftDom, slight switch, praise, fingering, pussy licking? unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - not to be nerdy but the apache helicopter to hella fuckin cool

Masterlist  ❤︎  RTB (Part two)

The first time you joined Task Force 141 on a mission was a year ago, having been asked to be their aerial support. Unlike the regular formal introduction that happened where you would meet your new team and mission in a conference room, you had been introduced on the tarmac. You were just doing the final safety checks with the engineer when the 141 arrived. 

You thanked your engineer before leaving to meet them. The only one you knew from previous collaborations was Captain Price. And it was Price who introduced you to everyone else. You tucked your helmet under your arm, catching it on the curve of your hip so you could have a free hand to shake with. 

“Nice to see you again, Stitch,” He dipped his chin at you, before sweeping a hand at the pack of men behind him. 

“Always a pleasure,” you gave him an easy smile. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, this is the 141,” he pointed to the first individual, “Soap”, his grasp was firm and as you shook his hand, and gave each other a curt nod. Then Price moved the next, “Gaz,” you did the same with him, he offered you a sweet smile and you couldn’t help a matching one from growing on your own face. The last soldier was more stoic than the rest, harder to read, “and Ghost. This isn’t everyone but it’s who will be on today's mission.” 

When you met Ghost eyes you knew immediately he was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. You were thankful he was on your side. Thankful that you’d never have to come toe to toe with him. You took note of the fact that his eyes lingered on you too. Dark eyes roamed over you. Not in a heated lewd sense, but like a calculating predator. He was taking note of weaknesses and blind spots already. You wanted to wave a little white flag at him, marking yourself as an ally. 

Just then your co-flyer, having previously focused on the manifests, joined in on the pleasantries. 

“This is Dutch,” you knocked your shoulder against his, “The best gunner and partner a pilot could ask for.”   

“How long have you guys been flying?” Gaz inquired, cocking his head to the side. 

“Three years with this girl,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder to the aircraft behind you. It was an apache helicopter, one of the most advanced technologies all packed behind the painted green casing. The most exciting piece of equipment is the integrated helmet display, allowing either the pilot or gunner to slave the live footage of the chain gun to the helmet. It tracked an individual's head movement to provide an even more accurate aim. 

The apache was one of the most dangerous helicopters in the sky and you got to pilot it. You almost cried when you got your placement after flight school. You did cry after your first flight. 

Gaz let out a low whistle, “Is she treating you well?” 

You nod, “As long as I give her proper aftercare.” 

That first mission went smoothly, really smoothly. 

The Apache was built on the premise of being agile and lethal, and with you and Dutch inside the cockpit, the aircraft was able to reach its full potential. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t show off for them just a little. Show them who you acquired your callsign, Stitch. Bobbing and weaving around bullets and missiles. Threading between the terrain. Dutch provided firepower with unmatched aim. Dutch hammered the enemy with chain gun rounds, rockets, and HELLFIRE missiles. You’d also be lying if you said the elated cheering of the 141 over the radio didn’t boost your ego. 

You had provided them with as much support as you could be having to RTB for fuel. 

Every mission was no different from the first. All of them a success. And you couldn’t help the exciting you that hopped around in your chest every time you got assigned to the 141. 

One of the reasons was that you had grown a certain affinity for one of the members.  

Today’s mission was a little different. It started off with you being called to one of the conference rooms with Dutch right at your side. When you entered the room and found out who you were meeting, you grinned.

“Hello, boys,”  you immediately started searching the room for one person in particular, finding him seated at one of the tables. He had one arm resting on the table in front of him, and his head resting on his other fist. His eyes were already on you, slowly racking down your body. The heat behind his eyes made you feel good, made you want to ravish him right then and there. 

The tension was there from the very beginning, and it only grew every time you saw him next. You could feel it swell and surge between you guys, and you were damn sure he could too. Neither of you had acted on it though. Mostly because of the conflict of interest. Partly because the chase was fun.  

His gaze met yours, heavy-lidded with filthy vehemence.  

Some flighty and skittish part of you taking the reins and you had to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. You landed on the table he was sitting at, littered with maps, pictures, and documents. You slapped down on that piece of yourself, cursing at it. He made you nervous and loathed him for it. No man has ever made you nervous.  

“What’s on the itinerary for today?” your voice came out a little higher than it usually did. You shifted a document over to get a better look at the map. Price ran through the plan, briefing you and Dutch on your roles.   

The flight started off as expected, being called into action when the 141 had difficulties shaking the enemy and were in a vehicle chase. Their ammo was running low and one of them was shot. The wound wasn’t mortal but apparently, he was hurtin’.  

They were speeding down a desolate street of a deserted city when you reached them. You maneuvered your heli to hover behind a highrise, waiting until the enemy forces sped around the corner at the end of the street. When finally they did you rolled over into the middle of the street, hovering high in the air. Dutch fired away, taking out the forefront. 

“Fuck yeah!” Soap yelled into the radio, and you could see him shoot a fist out the window of one of their trucks.  

You shifted, barreling forward, adding pressure. This allowed Dutch to make a run with the chain gun as you flew overhead. You didn’t like the position but the highrise buildings on either side of the streets gave you no choice. 

“Let me know when you guys see smoke!” you had to yell over the sound of Dutch’s bombardment and strafe. You dipped between two buildings and met the reflection of the apache in the windows. You gave Dutch a quick salute in said reflection to which he returned with his own, before repositioning to enter the battle further back. More space meant more time for reaction. You would support them for as long as you could, they just needed to get out of the intended location or when they lose the tail. Or when you get rid of them. 

“Smoke!” Ghost shouted, warning us of the heat-seeking missile. 

“Flares!” you counter. Inverting the aircraft you released flares. The maneuver was the only way to get them out and in front of you in time to counter the MPADS missiles. You swore, “That was too fucking close.” 

Even Dutch seemed a little uneasy about it. You rightened yourselves, wanting to gain distance and height. 

“Switching to helmet display,” you announced, joining Dutch in the shooting. The 141 raced underneath you, and you applied as much cover as you could manage before needing to refocus on piloting. Four blocks away were reinforcements for them. You could manage it, Dutch could manage it. 

“RPG!” 

You merely had to dodge these ones, leaning left then right as they blew past you. 

Three blocks. 

Two blocks. 

Dutch signalled to you that he was out of HELLFIRE, and Missiles, “I got 50 rounds left in the chain gun,” he remarked, his voice calm and collected. One of the reasons you loved him as your gunman.     

“We’re RTB, we’ve given you guys all we could,” I hailed down to the ground, pulling away. 

“Thanks once again, CADAVER,” Price replied, calling you guys by your aircraft callsign, “See you two back home.” 

“We’ll have dinner ready and on the table for you guys,” you said, already heading back.

“Sunday roast?” Soap joined in.

“It’s Thursday, Mate,” Ghost answered for us dryly. You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar exchange.  

They were back on base an hour after you guys, and we met up for a quick and dirty debrief before being let off for dinner. You had purposefully chosen the seat beside Ghost during the debrief. He had also purposefully knocked his knee against yours underneath the table. The fleeting and seemingly innocent touch made you throw your other leg over the other and squeeze your thighs together. 

Like always you dreaded the inevitable paperwork that you had to complete and hand in tomorrow. You had just finished it when an idea formed in your wicked thoughts. 

With your action report in hand, you knocked on his door, plastering an innocent look on your face before opening the door. An expression of pleased confusion passed through his dark eyes, darker still when they dilated at the sight of you. He was still in his gear, only he was missing his weapons. You had strategically worn easy-to-remove clothes. An oversized sweater you’d stolen from the locker room(and nothing underneath you might add), and plain black leggings.   

You waved the piece of paper in front of him, “I thought it would be a good idea to compare notes.” 

You catch the ghost of a smile in his eyes, and he scanned the hallway before stepping aside to let you in, “Brilliant idea,” he shut the door behind him. 

It was your first in his barracks, and if you hadn’t known any better you would have assumed the room was vacant. Apart from the paper and folders on the desk, the rest of the observable room was pristine. 

Before answering the door he was probably working on the same report as you were. His writing was neat and tidy, a mixture between print and cursive. You examine the papers with a hum. He stayed a step back, he wanted to let you make the invitation before closing in. 

“I hope you’re not gossiping about me in here,” you jest as you drag a finger down the page. 

“Never,” he said, his voice low and serious, “I only ever say the most wonderful things about you.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, your loose hair falling over your shoulder, “Like what?” You dared a glance back at him, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. There was the invitation he was looking for. 

“How the team always feels safest when we have the infamous CADAVER watching over us. How professional and talented you are,” the emphasis he put on “professional”, wasn’t mocking, but a challenge. A disguised question. 

Are you sure? 

You bit down on your lip, “Mhm.”

He took a step closer, reaching to take your report from your hand and placing it on the desk in front of you. His other hand comes to plant itself on the wood beside your hip. You could smell him, like smoke and rain. 

“How I’m finding it harder and harder to work alongside you,” you could feel his chest against your back. The bulletproof vest getting in the way of feeling the muscle and heat you knew to lay just beneath. 

“Because all I think about is how good I could make you feel,” he reached his free hand around your hips, pulling you back into him, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your breath caught and you placed one hand on the desk for support, your other one reaching for his around your waist. Your fingers disappeared under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist. You don’t know why but there was a fleeting shock when you met warm skin. Maybe you were half expecting him to be an actual ghost, with cold lifeless skin.  

“The sounds you’d make for me,” oh, he was arrogant, but it didn’t bother you one bit. No, his confidence and conviction made you hot, and your breaths came out in bursts. He drew you closer so you could feel his own response to the proximity, “How you’d crawl back to me and beg for more.” 

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head and you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Ohmygod,” it came out more slurred than you had anticipated. You reached up to his masked face, tugging at it slightly, “Kiss me please, Ghost.”

“Go on,” he instructed.

“Tell me when,” you breathed as you twisted to pull up the mask, stopping at the bridge of his nose when he said. He let you take him in, the strong curve of his jaw, his full lips, and the…light spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks. You traced his jaw, fingers dancing across his skin.  Lingering on the light scar above his lip. 

“You’re beautiful,” it was barely a whisper, barely audible. But it was enough for him. His hand shot from the desk, wrapping around your jaw before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was erratic and deprived. After a year of circling each other and building up the frustration and tension, it felt like this was it was your time kissing anyone. The sensation of his mouth on yours made you burn. His tongue swept the line of yours, to which you wantonly open for him. He delved in, tongue running along the roof of your mouth, your tongue. The action made you well aware of the fact that if he got between your legs he’d make you scream with pleasure. You moaned, and he caught the sound, sucking your lip, and teeth biting down. He trailed wet, openmouthed kisses across your cheek, down your jaw, and sucked bruises into the supple skin of your neck. You whimpered, and it must have been a little too loud because a hand came to cover your mouth. 

“Unless you want to fill out an incident report tonight too, I suggest you use your inside voice,” he brought his mouth to your ear, his own pants fanning across your skin. You tugged at his vest, asking him to remove it. He removed his hand, “Say pretty please.” 

“Please, Ghost,” you tugged again, “I need to feel you,” Lord knows you’ve already waited long enough.  

He removed himself from you to unsnap it from his body with trained military ease, next was the black canvas jacket. The fabric of the black dry fit underneath was pulled tighter across his shoulders and chest. You were going to eat him alive. You were going to let him ruin you. You turned to face him fully and you hardly got the chance to reach out to him before he was over you again. His hands drove into your hair, around the back of your neck. Your hands ran across his chest, feeling hard muscle, the heat of him searing your palms. You travelled lower, untucking the shirt from his pants to gain access to his skin. Nails dug into his abdomen, leaving behind red lines. He hissed at the delicious pain.

Before you could register it, he was lifting you onto the desk and standing between your legs. He tugged you until you were flush with him, his hands securing you to him. You could feel his hard cock through the pants as it pressed into your stomach. You were in trouble. He was going to rip you apart. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t put it in until I have you nice and ready,” he must have felt you tense at the realization. You met his gaze, then started to roll your hips against him. His eyes widened before he slammed them shut and faced the ceiling. He didn’t let you get any further though. His hand shot to your chest, pushing you back until you were laying on your back. His nimble finger pushes your sweater up and pulls your pants down to your ankles. 

“Jesus fuck,” he croaked when he was met with your bare cunt. He pushed either leg to the side so he could have an interrupted view. His fingers grazed over you, and you jerked your hips up trying to meet his touch. 

“Don’t tease me,” you mewl at him, half tempted to relieve the ache yourself. 

All he could do was shake his head, eyes fixated on your arousal as it dripped down onto his desk. This time his fingers slide into your folds, coming to a halt at your clit. He made slow circles with his thumb. You gasped and had to bring the sleeve of your sweater to your mouth to bite so that you didn’t get too loud. He moved down and slid in two fingers, his brows furrowing in bliss as you greedily took him in. Your breasts tighten and you reach under your sweater to cup one and squeeze. His attention flicked to the activity and shoved the sweater higher so he could watch. The cold air was jarring, and your nipples hardened from both the temperature and arousal. 

Then he pulled his fingers back a couple of inches before slowly guiding them back in. He switched between watching your face morph with ecstasy and your pussy, enthralled with both but not sure which one to choose. He found a slow, teasing pace. One that was going to drive you to tears if he kept it up. 

“Faster,” you choked, trying to grind yourself on his hand but he stopped you with a stern grip on your hip. Yet he did as you asked, picking up speed and angling his hand so he could reach just a little deeper, and curving his fingers inside you. You couldn’t contain the moans anymore, and he seemed to have forgotten about the need to stay quiet. You started to shake as you neared your climax. You caught his expression, his lips parted and eyes glassy, you didn’t think he’d remember his name if you called to him. Your cunt tightened just as you started to cum. 

He removed his fingers.  

And dropped to his knees. 

He looked up at you, his pupils were completely blown, and placed your thighs on either shoulder and brought his mouth to you. You sobbed, frustrated with the stolen orgasm and the new stimulation. You placed your hands on the back of his head and pushed him further in. His tongue was way better than his fingers, and when he dragged it up the length of your length you thanked him. He sucked and licked and tasted you. The filthy wet sounds as he ate you out filled the room. You were so sure that if someone pressed their ear to his door they’d be able to hear it too. 

This time when you neared your orgasm you held him there, making sure he wasn’t going to pull away again. He groaned into you, and it was at just the right moment that the vibrations of it sent you spiralling. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant, tears pricking at your eyes. Your body went taut before it loosened. He stayed to lap you up. Placing chaste kissing on your clit. When he rose, he only wiped at the bottom of his chin to get rid of the cum dripping there so he could lick the rest of it from his lips. He leaned down to kiss you, allowing you a taste for yourself. 

You were going to ignite, and the only thing keeping you from doing so was digging your nails into his back. 

“Do you want more?” He asked, giving you an out should you have changed your mind. The thought of him going unrelieved after what he just did to you was absurd. You wanted him again and again and again. 

“I want all of you.”

He pulled away only to remove his shirt and undo his pants. His cock was hard, and you could see it pulse. He wrapped a hand around the middle, his thumb gliding over the head. 

“I’m on the pill. And Im clean,” you babbled. You wanted to feel him, without any barriers. 

“Are you sure?” he eyed you, “I have-”

“Yes.”

He didn’t waste any more time. He tapped the head of his cock against you, sliding his length into your folds, collecting the slick there. He rocked back and forth, holding himself against you with a thumb, “Shit.”  

“Fuck me. As hard as you need to,” he said before picking you up and sitting back into the chair behind him with you straddling his lap. He rested his hands on either hip; not to control or take charge but just because he wanted to touch you. Feel you in his arms. 

You swallowed as you guided him in, pausing at the head to adjust. Relax. If he hadn’t taken the time to warm you up, you would have shot right off him. The slight burn and stretch as you sank down onto him forced a cross between a squeak and a moan. You wished you could have captured his reaction on tape. His breath quivered, and he leaned his forehead on your shoulder. The both of you had thin coats of sweat on your hot, sensitive skin. Everywhere he touched you it felt like he brought with him flashes of lightning. 

“Just like that,” he grounded, tilting to the side to get a better look at where you connected. When you made the first rise and plunged back onto him, he nearly whimpered. You pulled back slightly, gauging his appearance before continuing. 

“I’m good,” he half laughed before tilting his head back and exposing his throat to you, “You’re just bloody tight.” 

“Well, you’re big,” you retorted, lifting yourself up and back down. 

“Mmm,” he shot you a conceited smile. 

So, he liked the occasional praise.   

You braced your arms on his shoulders, fingers dipping under his mask so you could grip at his hair underneath. You dragged a tongue up the column of this throat, the salt taste of sweat, and nipped at his jaw, “And so fucking hard.” 

His hips jerked up, meeting you on your descent. Hard. Lightening shot up your spin, and stars blocked your vision. Your pace picked up, chasing that pleasure. Riding him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. You racked your nails down the front of his chest, catching on his dog tags. Little red lines appeared. The desire to carve your name into his chest surfaced. You settled for your initials. 

He hissed at the mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock twitched inside of you, “Atta girl, mark me as yours.”

You rocked your hips against him, the muscles of his stomach providing extra stimulation against your clit. It left a trail of slickness and you would make damn sure licked him clean after. 

His groans turned into hot desperate whimpers, and his grip forced himself up and impossibly deeper. You squeezed around him.

“Good-” he choked, pulling you in to rest his forehead on yours, “Cum for me, baby.”

You did as you were told, your body convulsing and shuddering. You could feel it drip out of and onto him. 

He followed, fast and hard. You could feel him pulsating as his seed painted your walls white. It was hot and… a lot. He was leaking out of you and he was still inside you. 

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Catching your breath. Collecting your mind. 

“You think,” you paused, “you think they heard?” you asked, his team wasn’t far. They were either in their own room or congregated in the common area. Which was just down the hall. 

He pulled back, eyes searching your face, “Umm, yeah. You’re loud.” 

You faked an insulted gasp, “You’re loud.”

“No’m not,” he was. He wasn’t the silent type. You liked that. Liked it when your partners were vocal. 

“Liar,” you lifted yourself off him, cum dripping out as you did so. 

His chest seemed to puff out at the slight, pleased with his work. 

“You think they’ll see me?” you tightened your pussy, to keep it from leaking onto his floor. You pointed to the clothes he’d tossed onto his bed and he tossed you your shirt and pants. 

“They won’t say anything. There’s a shower in the bathroom,” he offered, you were just going to go back to your room and shower there, but it was a little risky. If the room smelt like sex, you did too. He followed you into the bathroom, flicking on the light, “Next time bring panties so you can walk around with my cum inside you,” he murmured as he watched. He pulled his mask back down over his face. At some point, he had pulled on some sweatpants. 

“You’re dirty,” you said playfully, locking eyes with him in the reflection. 

“Or better yet, we can fuck in your room so you won’t have to sneak back out.”

“You want to do the sneaking next time?” you tilted your head back to look up at him.

His eyes narrowed, “I’m really good at the sneaking.”

Because of his mask he wasn’t able to join in on the shower. But he did bend you over his backroom sink, holding your hands behind your back with one hand, and the other hand wrapped around your neck so he could make sure you watched as he fucked you from behind in the mirror. 

It was an hour before curfew when you finally slipped out of his room. He almost didn’t let you, tried pulling you back in. When you stepped into the common rooms, Gaz, and Soap pretended to be really interested in the walls, carpet, and couch. Price was nowhere to be seen. 

“The captain left a couple hours ago,” Gaz didn’t even look in your direction. 

He left a couple hours ago because that's when it all started and if he couldn’t hear anything he didn’t know anything. If he didn’t know anything he couldn’t get mad at anything. 

“Thank you,” you shoot back before very quickly exiting their barracks. 

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

A/N - we love a vocal king

[luci4theminorannoyance]

the 141 boys first time at a skatepark:

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

a/n: I thought of this while rollerblading with my friend and watching him fail to chat up a nice girl at the skatepark- so-

Ghost:

-was only there because soap PHYSICALLY dragged him there. He had never skated and never PLANNED on it.

-he decided to just go for it like the cocky man he is. And promptly fell down the bowl he wanted to try despite not even knowing how to kick

-shame really, he even chipped his mask because of it; which he blamed on you

-a fast learner! Once you explained the basics he ended up being really good

price:

-the only way he would ever skate was “If he ever got drunk enough to sign a wager saying he had to” which you ended up getting him to do

-bought a helmet, and all the safety gear physically possible. He hated hospitals and didn’t want to be in one for something as dumb as skating

-he NATURALLY picked rollerblading, as it seemed easier then staying on a board or skates (he was oh so wrong)

-didn’t do anything risky but learned the basics although a bit wobbly

Roach:

-he actually wanted to go! He was excited to have you hold him to teach him how to ride a skateboard

-tripped and fell the second you two arrived at the skatepark

-the whole day was basically a Hercules trial of just… lots of falling. He was having fun though!

-ended up doing a few small ramps wobbly and having the brightest smile because of it, signing a thanks before hugging you tightly (and tripping again)

soap:

-started it as a bet, choosing the most explosive and themed skates he could before instantly trying a drop skates weren’t built to do

-didn’t fall, oddly enough? He got stuck at the bottom though and had to have you shove him back up

-a fast learner like ghost! Was doing tricks in minutes but that was mostly because he assumed you’d catch him if he fell

gaz:

-one of his friends had tried to teach him once, so he understood some of it- played it safe for the whole time though

-you had to physically push him to make him attempt a certain railing he was scared of

-actually did it well! You following and watching his eyes light up as he caught his breath

[prosperdemeter2]

WIP Wednesday - watermark

When I tell you I had to fight the GODS to get this posted, know that I'm telling you the truth. Accept this... not so kind offering 🩵🩵🩵🩵

He couldn’t stop shaking. 

It wasn’t even cold, but it felt like it. The air conditioning in the house had broken a week ago, and Eddie had dragged his heels all up and down their local Target complaining about the prices of a replacement, and he had only shut up about it when they had ended up at Home Depot and all of the units there were about a hundred dollars more. So it was working, and Buck could feel it settling on his skin like pinpricks of tiny, cold icicles digging into the parts of his body that weren’t covered in clothes. But it was about eight six outside, and the air conditioning needed to be on because, otherwise, Christopher would be complaining about how hot it was and Buck didn’t think he could handle hearing that, thank-you-very-much. Not on top of everything else.

So Buck was shaking, the air conditioning was on, and he had been home for approximately ten minutes and locked in the bathroom for nine of them. 

He didn’t know how he had convinced Athena to go home. He didn’t even know if he had convinced her. But she hadn’t gotten out of Bobby’s car to go after him, and Buck didn’t know if that was better, or worse, than if she had insisted on following him inside. 

Evan couldn’t do this, really. Eddie’s things were everywhere. The sink was his. The house was his. The kid was his. 

Evan was just… he wasn’t even Buck. He was Evan. But Buck was lost somewhere in hospital hallways, or maybe he had never been taken out of the hospital in the first place, or maybe he was still on that street, swimming in Eddie’s blood and -. 

The water was hot on his hands. A juxtaposition to the air conditioning on the back of his neck and goosebumps were instantly rising on the backs of his arms. 

When Evan was eleven, he had turned on the water in the bathroom so hot that the next day he had gone to school with a dozen sensitive red splotches on the backs of his palms. No one had said anything, but why would they when usually showed up to classes with new bruises and scrapes? You hurt yourself when you need to focus. 

Are you hurt? 

He shut off the water with a viscous twist of the knob and gripped the sink instead. 

Pull it together. He told himself and refused to look in the mirror. 

This might be a little big on you, it’s Bobby’s. 

On the back of the sweatshirt was Nash in big, bold, white letters. On the front was 118 at the bottom of the firefighter’s emblem, Captain emblazoned in red at the top. Just like his helmet. Too long at the sleeves, a pinch too big at the shoulders. It didn’t quite fit. It didn’t quite feel right. 

Evan was shocked he could even feel anything at all, anymore. 

He was well aware of delayed pain. It had existed within him long before the explosion that had nearly taken his life. There had been a time where little Evan Buckley hadn’t even known he had a broken rib for two weeks before he had been walking home from school and realized it hurt to breathe. Doctor Ocampo said that probably had something to do with safety. The neuropathways in his brain were all fucked up from the abuse he had suffered as a child that now his brain and his body didn’t know how to properly communicate anymore. He was in his bathroom, it was hours after what was rapidly becoming the worst day of his life, and his wrist was finally starting to pierce, his knee was finally starting to scream, and his neck was starting to pull. The doctor had walked him through his own list of injuries - bruising on the elbow, a shard of glass or ten had ended up all the way up his arm, but the piece that had lodged in his wrist had been the only one that needed stitches. His knee was twisted, the good knee, this time, not the one that tended to trip him up. The muscle in his neck was most likely just strained - a side effect of being tackled, quite literally, into the pavement without a helmet. 

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the closed toilet, one hand on the cold porcelain of the sink as if to brace himself, and his sleeve (Bobby’s sleeve) pushed up, the elastic around the wrist brushing against the white bandage obscuring the stitches. 

The laundry basket, full and stuffed right in the middle of the open closet door, mocked him. 

Eddie had said he was going to do it when he was done with his shift. 

Stupidly, Evan laughed and then slapped a hand over his mouth as if to quiet it and keep it locked inside. But, well… the laundry wasn’t getting done now unless Evan did it, huh? Just like he had said it wouldn’t. 

I’m just going to have to do it anyway. 

No, no, let me do it. 

You always forget. 

Okay, so let me remember. 

Maybe he’d leave it for him. Maybe it would just never get done. Maybe, if he left it where it was, it would… “Fuck.” Evan breathed, dug his bruised elbow into his bad knee and hid his face. It wasn’t wet anymore, no, Athena had taken care of that, and Evan knew he had a habit of making people worried when he didn’t have the correct emotional response to big, life changing events and he, really, probably should have been an emotional mess. 

Shock, Hen would have said and sat with him, her hand rubbing a warm circle in the middle of his spine. You’re just in shock. 

Shock, sure. 

That was… all it was. Shock made sense, medically and emotionally. Who wouldn’t be in shock after….

Prep an OR.

Sir, you have to let go. 

Please. 

“Buck?” Christopher knocked on the bottom of the door loudly with the bottom of his crutch. 

Are you hurt? 

“Is dad working late?” 

Buck stood up, the pain sliding from the front of his mind all the way to the back and cleared his throat. “Give me a second, Chris.” He washed his hands with lukewarm water and knocked the closet door shut on his way out of the bathroom, the laundry disappearing from view as it clicked closed. 

There were more important things. 

[windsorhelmets]

What To Look For When Choosing The Best Safety Jacket

Intro

Safety is one of the most important things we do as a company, and it’s always important to keep your employees safe! In this article, we’ll talk about how you can make sure everyone has the right gear (Safety Jacket ).

Construction Safety Jackets

When working in construction, it is important to be aware of your surroundings and the potential hazards that you may face. Wearing the proper safety gear can help protect you from these hazards and help prevent injuries.  (safety helmet price)

One piece of safety gear that is essential for construction workers is a safety jacket. Safety jackets are designed to protect the wearer from harmful materials and debris. They also provide visibility in low-light conditions and can help keep you warm in cold weather.

When choosing a safety jacket, it is important to select one that is made from durable materials. The jacket should also be comfortable to wear and fit properly. Be sure to check the label to ensure that the jacket meets the safety standards for your specific job.

Types of Safety Jackets

There are many different types of safety jackets available on the market, so it is important to know what to look for when choosing the best one for your needs. Here are some of the most popular types of safety jackets:

-High-visibility jackets are essential for workers who need to be seen in low-light or dark conditions, such as construction workers, road crews, and utility workers. These jackets are usually brightly colored and have reflective stripes or strips to make the wearer more visible. (face shield mask)

-Fire-resistant jackets are critical for workers who are exposed to high temperatures or flames, such as firefighters, welders, and foundry workers. These jackets are usually made from materials that will not catch fire easily and can help to protect the wearer from burns.

-Chemical-resistant jackets are necessary for workers who are exposed to hazardous chemicals, such as lab technicians and factory workers. These safety jacket are made from materials that will not absorb harmful chemicals, and they often have special ventilation systems to protect the wearer from fumes (windsor safety) .

Personal Protective Equipment

When it comes to choosing the best safety jacket, there are a few things you

I need to keep that in mind. Here are a few tips to help you make the best choice:

1. Consider the climate. If you’ll be working in a cold environment, you’ll need a

jacket that will keep you warm. Conversely, if you’ll be working in a hot environment,

you’ll need a jacket that’s breathable and won’t make you too hot.

2. Think about the job. What kind of work will you be doing? If you’ll be doing a lot of

climbing or moving around, you’ll need a jacket that’s lightweight and won’t restrict

your movement. If you’ll be doing mostly stationary work, you can opt for a heavier

jacket that will provide more protection.

3. Choose the right material. There are a variety of materials used for safety

jackets, each with its own advantages and disadvantages. Do some research to find

the material that best suits your needs.

4. Make sure it fits properly. A safety jacket is only effective if it fits properly. Make

sure to try on different jackets until you find one that fits comfortably and provides the

level of protection you need.

What Type of Safety Jackets Do You Need?

There are many different types of safety jackets available on the market, so it is important to know what type of jacket you need before making a purchase. Here are some things to consider when choosing the best safety jacket for your needs:

-What type of work will you be doing? If you will be working in a hazardous environment, you will need a different type of jacket than someone who works in an office. (helmet online)

-What are the temperatures like in your work environment? If you work in a hot environment, you will need a breathable jacket that will not make you sweat.

-Do you need extra protection from chemicals or other hazards? If so, you will need a jacket that is specifically designed for that type of protection.

-What is your budget? Safety jackets can range in price from very affordable to quite expensive. Knowing how much you are willing to spend will help you narrow down your options.

Taking the time to consider these factors will help you choose the best safety jacket for your needs.

How to Choose a Good Safety Jacket

When it comes to safety, there is no such thing as being too careful. This is especially true when you are working in an environment where there are potential hazards present. In these situations, it is absolutely essential that you wear the proper protective clothing, including a safety jacket. But with so many different options on the market, how can you choose the best safety jacket for your needs?

Here are a few things to look for when choosing a safety jacket:

1. Make sure it is made from high-quality materials. The last thing you want is for your safety jacket to tear or come apart in an emergency situation. Look for jackets that are made from durable materials like Kevlar or Nomex.

2. Choose a jacket that fits properly. A safety jacket that is too big or too small can actually be more dangerous than not wearing one at all. Make sure the jacket you choose fits snugly but is not constricting.

3. Consider the climate you will be working in. If you will be working in a hot environment, look for a safety jacket that is lightweight and breathable. If you will be working in a cold environment, make sure the jacket is insulated and windproof. (safety helmet price)

Conclusion

There are a few key factors to look for when choosing the best safety jacket for you. First, make sure that the jacket is made of high-quality materials that will protect you from the elements. Second, choose a jacket with reflective stripes or other features that will help you stay visible in low-light conditions. Finally, pick a style that is comfortable and won’t restrict your movement so that you can stay safe and stylish at the same time.

For more information – https://windsorhelmets.com/

[pilot-boi]

.... What if Jaune doesn't return to Remnant with them?

I’m not even joking, keep sending me these what ifs and I’ll keep writing them. I’m not even joking, keep them coming

————

Escape from the Ever After is very possible, if ringing with the sort of convoluted complications that have become commonplace in this fairy tale land. Everything in this world comes with a price. Get back your arm for the price of knowing what it feels like to be loved. Win this chess match while using your family as pieces.

Let go of your trauma by letting go of yourself.

And leaving this place seems to be no different.

People can leave the Ever After if they know how, but only if someone stays behind to hold the door closed and keep the denizens of this fairy tale from reaching Remnant. For the safety of humanity and the Faunus, the characters must not be allowed to escape. And for the safety of the characters themselves, unused to facing the harsh world of reality that none of them have ever known.

It’s because of this that Alyx was never truly allowed to leave, since she fell alone. She had nobody who cared for her enough to stay behind, and thus she became trapped in a story.

Holding the door closed herself and protecting a world she’d never get to see again.

Team RWBY has made hard decisions in the past. Some very recently in Atlas, both good and bad.

But none of those were quite as hard as this.

Because who should stay behind? 

Who should be prevented forever from seeing their family? Who should stay behind to fight into futility against an enemy that would never tire, who would pull and strain at their sanity until there was nothing left? Who should be chosen to leave behind the fight for Remnant, never knowing if their friends and family still live?

The girls all offer instantly.

True Huntresses would know there isn’t any other choice to make, and RWBY are truer Huntresses than any that have walked this planet.

Their voices raise, arguing and begging the others to let them bear this burden. Debating the pros of them staying, and the cons of the others. 

Ruby, you’re the face of the hope against Salem. You’re the youngest and the most hurt, our leader. You have to return to Remnant, we can’t let you carry this burden like you’ve carried all the others.

Weiss, there’s so much you still have to do. Without your dad you all can finally heal and grow together. Atlas may be gone, but you have to return so you can build it back even better than before.

Blake, your family is waiting for you. You’re finally free of Adam and can reform the White Fang. A generation of Faunus are ready to follow you, please return to them and lead them the way we all know you can.

Yang, you’ve been strong for so long. You’ve protected us and been the rock we need in times of hardship. You fell first, sacrificing yourself for Ruby. No let one of us be the strong one instead.

They’re crying, they’re yelling, they’re begging each other to let them do this. Ruby’s eyes are flashing silver, Blake’s ears are pinned back. Yang’s eyes are teary and red, and Weiss’s fists are clenched.

“It has to be me.”

The argument peters off a moment after the interjection.

Jaune speaks quietly, separated from the others. A helmet that is his and isn’t tucked under his arm. His armor is rusted and scratched and it’s like a weight around his shoulders.

But he’s smiling, eyes clear of the fog that had clouded them. His hand is playing with the red sash at his side.

“You’re all the ones who matter.”

[lambsouvlaki]

Moments in Between - Keep you Safe

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!OC

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings

Summary: Jason takes Andy shopping for a bike helmet.

Masterlist

Jason walked alongside Andy down a shiny wet street in the Gotham sunshine. The gutters were still gurgling, and run off dripped from shop awnings. Her hair was frizzy from getting rained on earlier, and he thought all the flyaways escaping her braid looked impossibly cute.

Hobby shops and fashion boutiques lined the streets by this part of the college campus.

“I though we were getting lunch?” Andy asked.

“We are getting lunch, after you get a bike helmet.” He stopped outside a sports gear shop and jerked his head at the door.

Manikins in skiing gear were posed dramatically in the window on the left and in motorbike gear on the right.

Panic flashed across Andy’s face.

“I- it’s rent week, I don’t think i can-“

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it.”

She didn’t look comforted. Damnit. Maybe he should have given her a heads up after all, but there was a high chance she’d sneak off to pick up some secondhand trash for $50 and be no safer than if she wore nothing. Jason understood. Nobody liked feeling like a burden, or a charity case. He wasn’t going to begrudge her her pride. He wasn’t going to keep putting her in danger either.

He held up his hands, placating. “I’m replacing my current helmet anyway, I may as well get both. You just need to pick out something that fits right.”

Her expression twisted. “You don’t have to do that, Jay. Really.”

“If you fall off my bike and crack your head open, I’ll be the one in court for manslaughter. i’m just helping myself here.” He shrugged. “And I want to.”

Her shoulders hiked up around her ears. “…Just a cheap one. Whatever’s on sale.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed the door open. Well, now his pride was on the table.

“Hey Tony, I need you to help my friend here, she’s looking for the best damn bike helmet you’ve got. If she can’t do a HALO jump in it, its not good enough.”

Tony perked up at the same time Andy whirled on him in horror

“You got it!” the shop assistant said and disappeared to the back of the shop.

“Jason!” Andy hissed.

“Would you buy me a shit helmet if you knew you could get me a good one?” he demanded.

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

“Look, I do alright for myself. What’s the point in even having money if i can’t get basic safety gear for my friends? What kind of asshole do you think i am?”

She chewed on her lip and lowered her head. He wanted to reach a hand under her chin and to her head back up, and narrowly resisted the urge.

“Let me do this for you, Andy. Please.”

Okay then.” She pulled herself up a moment later. “But it has to be a red one.”

He cracked a smile. “You drive a hard bargain. Why red?”

“So I can look cool.”

He laughed. “Sure. You’ll look like a petite Red Hood.”

Andy rolled her eyes. Tony came back with a couple of different styles swinging from his arms.

“Thank you though. Really.”

He waved her off and Tony stepped in. Jason leaned against the desk while she tried on the options. Having decided to play ball she was confident about it and took the exercise seriously. Something in him felt warm at it the sight.

He could take her on real rides now and keep her safe, more than just five minute drop offs. He could show her the city the way he loved it best, an 80mph blur of sights and sounds. He knew she liked it too, he could feel her laughing for joy, pressed tight against his back.

She caught sight of a price tag and blanched. He’d probably have to give it another couple of months before trying to get her a good riding jacket.

Next>>

[barbex]

Happy Friday to you <3 I would love to see: “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

For Anders and Hawke if you feel like writing this <3 Have fun <3

Thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting. I hope you don't mind that I used your awesome prompt for a little fenhanders ficlet.

---

Years of experience save his ass once again. The sound of armor clanging, and boots stomping, he would hear that over anything. But what made him jump into action, his feet on the ground before his mind has even caught up, is the sound of voices muffled under templar helmets. Hawke always calls them bucket heads, and the hollow sound is fitting for that. 

Anders crawls through the small hole he dug through the wall a year ago, when Hawke gave him the key to his basement. That's the path he's taking now, through the rubble that conveniently looks like a broken building from the outside. The tunnel is narrow and dark, but he doesn't dare to light the way with a magelight. The hollow voices are still too close. He doesn't even dare to breathe. So close. 

"He has to be here."

"Maybe someone warned him?"

"These people, protecting a mage. A mistake by the Maker."

"It is our duty to protect them from themselves. The refugees down her don't understand that."

"Fereldans, pff."

"Dog fuckers, all of them."

"Templars!" Even through the helmet, this voice exudes authority. Armor creaks as several men and women adjust their positions. "Let's search the place."

Anders nearly snorts. Search, right. More like breaking everything they can see through the eye-slits of their helmets. The sound of wood and glass breaking has him sigh as he mentally calculates how much all these potion bottles cost him, not to mention the ingredients he had to collect and buy. But at least he can move now without fearing to draw attention to himself by any noise he makes as he crawls through the debris. 

At last, he can stand up again, facing the door to Hawke's basement. He waits for his breathing to calm down. Does he hate dark and narrow places? For sure. Does he have to endure it? Yes. There's always a price to pay for safety. 

He channels his magic into his hand to open the door. It works on the second try, his hand shakes to much to channel the spell precisely. Finally, he steps into the cellar, closes the door behind him, and lets several magelights float from his hand to bathe the room in pale, violet light. He lets out a breath, long and slow, breathes in and out again, slowing his heartbeat. 

The magelights bop along the ceiling in front of him as he winds through the dusty shelves. On the other side, steps lead him up the other door, letting him out into main hall of Hawke's mansion. Here, he can finally relax, letting the tension fall from his shoulders. 

The massive shape of Muffin, Hawke's mabari greets him with a gentle shove against his leg. He pets his head, and steps over to the fireplace, holding his hands to the warmth of the glowing logs. When he sits down, Muffin comes to his side and they both kind of lean against the other. The pressure of another warm body, even if it's just a drooling dog, is comforting.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knows is someone touching his face. With a gasp, he scrambles backwards, falling on his back, before he realises that it's Hawke. Muffin licks his face, trying to calm him in his typical way. "Alright, alright." He shoves the dog away from his face, gently. He means well.

Hawke helps him to sit up, his hand warm on the back of his neck. "Are you alright?" 

For a moment, Anders allows himself to drown in Hawke's dark eyes. The care, the warmth in them, for a moment he lives in the dream of Hawke always looking at him like that, only him. But it's only a dream. An annoyed huff from the door quickly pulls him out of the illusion. 

"When did you get here?" Fenris asks, frowning at him as he comes closer. He still wears his armor and weapon, like Hawke, Anders only notices now. There are blood spatters on both of them. 

"I got here... it was just after the ninth bell when I heard the templars."

"You crawled into the tunnel?" Hawke's hand is still on Anders' neck, gentle pressure to hold and support him. 

"Yes, just in time." Anders turns to Hawke, realising how very close he's sitting and quickly looks down to hide his blush. "Without the entrance to your basement..."

"I'm glad you came here," Hawke says. "I —" He glances at Fenris. "We won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with us."

"Thank you." Anders can't help but look at Fenris as he stands up, trying to read his scowl. Fenris and Hawke have been inseparable for a while and it's common knowledge that he hates Anders, so he is probably less happy that Anders disturbs their evening. At least he doesn't look angry right now, more tired and he moves strangely. "What happened to you two? You look... are you hurt?"

Some kind of wordless conversation passes between Fenris and Hawke, and the elf places his sword on some furniture, takes off his gauntlets and shakes out his arms. He steps over to Anders and glares at him. "Get it over with."

Anders stares back, dumbfounded. "Get over with what?"

Fenris huffs. "Your magic."

Anders keeps staring. The situation feels like he has missed several pages in a story. Before he can say anything, Hawke gets up and steps over to Fenris. "Fen," he says with a slight smile. "I know you have a reputation to uphold, but I think we're past this by now, aren't we?"

With a sigh that sounds like the weight of the whole wide world rests on his shoulders, Fenris takes a step forward and looks at Anders. "I am hurt, please heal me."

It takes Anders several seconds to find his words again. "Heal you? With magic?"

"Yes." 

When Fenris keeps looking at him expectantly, he accepts that he heard him right and lets his magic flow into his hands, searching for injuries in Fenris. It's mostly just one cut on his arm, nothing too serious. He clears his throat. "You should take off your shirt, I'd like to see the lyrium lines as I heal the cut." 

There's only a short hesitation before Fenris takes off his jerkin and pulls his shirt over his head. He is breathtakingly beautiful, of course, nothing new on that front, and Anders has to wrestle down an attack of jealousy that Hawke gets to see this beauty so often.

Hawke steps behind Fenris, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his neck. Anders has to look away, just watching them is as if he can feel that kiss on his own neck. He loves getting kissed there. But there is nobody in his life to do that. 

Focussing on the injury on Fenris' arm, he ignores how beautiful they both look, standing so close, Hawke's hand resting on Fenris' hip, his shoulders rolled forward, looming over him like a protective shield. 

Fusing the tissue so that the lyrium lines connect correctly, he lets his magic flow as gently as possible. When he's done, he drops his arms and shakes out his hands. "All done. How did that happen?"

Hawke strokes over Fenris' newly healed arm, and then looks at Anders. "We heard about a templar raid in Darktown. A bunch of templars at your clinic thought we would help them look for a healer."

Fenris turns his piercing gaze onto Anders. "They thought wrong." 

Anders looks from one to the other. "What were you doing at my clinic?"

"Looking for you, mage," Fenris spits out.

"Why?" 

"Because they templars were obviously hunting you." Fenris glares at him and then turns away, stepping in front of the fireplace, and directs his glare towards the flames.

But you... you don't have to do that." Anders looks at Hawke. "Both of you, I can take care of myself, you don't have to drag Fenris into these things."

"It was Fenris who dragged me along," Hawke says, grinning. "Smacked my sandwich out of my hand and yelled at me to hurry up."

"Fenris?" 

Hawke puts his hands on his shoulders, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "He cares. Just like I do." 

Frozen like a statue, Anders can only stare at Hawke. Behind him, Fenris speaks, haltingly, as if the words are difficult to form. "You... are a friend. I will not... see you hurt." 

"But..." Anders wants to turn around when suddenly, Fenris is much closer than before, his arms wrapping around him from behind. In the next moment, soft lips press against his neck and his knees nearly buckle. 

"Well, well." Hawke grins at him, holding him up by his shoulders. "I tried to get him to use his words, but I guess this also gets the point across."

Anders fails to find the words he needs. "But... you are... the two of you..."

"And you," Fenris says softly. "If you want that."

"Me?" Now Anders turns around to look at Fenris. "You, Hawke, and me? You want that?"

Fenris looks up at him, looking more vulnerable than ever. "If you want it too."

Hawke comes between them, wrapping his massive arms around both their shoulders. "We would love to have you with us." He leans over, kissing Anders' temple. "Can you give us a chance?"

A smiles spreads on Anders' face. He looks at Fenris. "May I kiss you?"

Fenris steps closer. "You may." 

When their lips meet, Hawke pulls them closer, wrapping them into his warmth.

[everlastingdreams]

Harwin Strong x Targaryen Reader : For The Love Of A Princess

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Notes: Based on that alleyway scene. Not my best work but was able to distract my brain for an hour.

Summary: As the second and youngest daughter of King Viserys I, your father acts quite protective of you. The only time he considers it safe for you to leave the castle is when you are accompanied by guards. Tired of having constant surveillance from the guards and no freedom to go alone, you had begun to leave the palace at night to explore the city. One night goes awry and you find yourself running into trouble.

Warnings: Strong language, attempted assault, cursing. Suggestive.

Word Count: 1.7k

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You often sneaked out of the palace at night to explore the city. Your father, King Viserys, was terribly protective of you but the longing to explore the world beyond the safety of the castle walls had grown stronger than your fear of the possible scolding you would receive and the threats that also resided out there.

Disguised as a servant, you moved through the hallways. Using the door in the kitchens to gain access to the gardens.

There was just a small wall to climb, thank the gods that it was dark enough for people not to notice how you crawled over it.

You kept your attention fixed on the cobbled road, avoiding direct eye contact with everyone passing by.

Having a drink at the inn was all you had wanted to do. A moment to enjoy seeing the people who lived outside the castle.

The ale was not as good as the one often served at home, but the environment made up for it’s flaws.

A bard was singing a lovely song of secret love that made you dream of someday experience it for yourself. In the corner a happy couple seemed lost into each other’s arms.

Others were chatting away whilst enjoying their meals or ale.

It was pleasant and welcoming and everything you often missed at home. Here you did not have to act so prim and proper.

But this could not last, it was time to return home before others would find you missing.

Once outside and walking back home, you came upon a man.

When you moved left to let him pass, he simply stepped in your path again.

This was trouble, you could tell.

He reeked of ale, but his eyes were still focused “Out so late, eh ? Haven’t found yourself company yet ? Name your price.”

You kept trying to move past him “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

All of a sudden he grabbed you and forced your back against the wall “What ? You don’t think I can afford a whore like you, eh ?”

Fear took a hold on you “Let go off me !”

In response his hand covered your mouth, trying to silence you.

As a last resort to save yourself, you jerked your knee up, hitting him hard in the groin.

With a firm push, you got him away from you and ran.

He gave chase while shouting profanities after you and you prayed you would not run into a dead end street.

When hastily turning a corner, you collided into someone else and found yourself in their firm grasp a second later.

You were ready to throw a punch to break free, the shinning metal the only thing halting you.

A guard of the City Watch held you in his grasp “Where are you running off to so late ?”

It took not more than a glance at your face for the guard to recognize you.

“Princess ?” The guard was more than a little surprised to have the second daughter of the King in his grasp so late at night and to find her outside the city’s walls…

No, the king would not be happy about this.

Under the helmet and in the dark, it took a moment to recognize the man in armor “Ser Harwin…”

“Why are you not at the palace ? Here so late and without guards.” It came out like a scolding and it was.

He unhanded you, eyes taking in the attire you wore.

Had you not run into him now, he’d never have known that it was you.

The worn down clothes did a moderate job of hiding the beauty that was you.

You looked upon the scolding guard, grateful for his presence.

It was that look of sheer relief that alerted him, why would you be glad to see him ?

The shouting was heard again, the slurs still aimed at you.

It drew Harwin’s attention away from you, a piece of the puzzle falling into place “Why were you running, Princess ?”

The moment the man appeared in your sights, you scurried behind Ser Harwin “He tried to-…”

Speaking of it proved difficult, no wonder your father was so fearful of your safety out in the city.

You were not a fighter or a hunter like your sister, an avid book reader mostly.

The man pointed right at you “There you are, bitch !”

Ser Harwin was quick to step between you and your assailant, ordering “Stay back, Princess.”

The man was drunk and foolish enough to challenge a guard of the City Watch “Since when do guards protect whores ? Mind your business !”

When the danger moved closer, Harwin drew his sword “I’d stop right there if I were you. Come any closer and you’ll meet your end.”

Even though the man stopped approaching, he did not hold his tongue “You want her for yourself, eh ? Out here pretending to guard our city while you’re meddling with whores.”

Ser Harwin whispered in your direction “By your command, I shall have his head.”

Speaking like this to a princess was enough to justify killing the man.

You gave it some consideration but decided against it, surely letting a man be killed in the street would draw attention and you did not want your nightly walk to be known “No, Ser Harwin.”

Killing the insolent dunghole was not permitted, but if necessary, he would not refuse to beat some manners into the man.

Ser Harwin was the first to step forwards threateningly.

The man considered his options and wisely chose to step back.

A warning from the guard “There are worse things than death. Leave now and you won’t find out what they are.”

While taking another step back, the man spat at the ground, one last insult aimed at you and your protector.

Ser Harwin watched him leave, muttering in anger “I should have knocked all his teeth out. The only thing he’d be spitting would have been blood.”

You thanked him when he turned to face you “Thank you, Ser Harwin. I am grateful for your help.”

He placed a hand to the back of your arm “Come, Princess. Let’s return you to the palace.”

  As he walked you back to the castle grounds, you explained what had happened.

That you sneaked out, went to the inn to have some ale.

It had been lovely until the encounter with that bastard “I just wanted to know what it is like. I hate to be stuck between walls all day. My father fears what might happen if he lets me go out into the city alone.”

He understood the call to freedom, still he knew this was not simple for one of your birth “Rightfully so. Had I not been there, we might have found you dead in the streets come morning.”

You fell silent, never expecting the night to take such a sour turn.

Harwin gave another option “If you really wish to explore the city, ask for me to accompany you. Day or night. I’d prefer it over misfortune happening to you.”

It was a kind offer to receive “I just wish I didn’t need guards just to visit an inn. But I shall accept your offer.”

He hoped to make it appear less uncommon “If it is any consolation, most would need guards to safely wander the streets at night.”

Only when he was at your bedchamber’s door, did he feel certain that you would be safe.

It was obvious that Harwin feared you would try to leave the castle alone again “You do not have to worry, I will not escape again tonight.”

The quip was unexpected to him and he countered it with “I pray you do not intend to do this again tomorrow.”

Your lip tugged up for only a brief moment, it was enough for him to let out a sigh.

For the second time tonight you dared to do something that could cost you your reputation.

Your hands reached up and slowly began to take his helmet off.

He watched with great interest and perhaps a pinch of the fondness felt for you was present in his eyes.

He’d first seen you at the dinning table with your family one day, a book open on your lap to hide it from the sights of others as the conversation at the table failed to draw your interest.

You often withdrew yourself in the shadows, people referred to you as sweet and quiet.

And now he had found the sweet and quiet princess out in disguise to go to an inn after dark.

How could he not be drawn to the defiance you showed to the rules of the court ?

A defiance he himself had often shown.

It struck you how handsome he was, never before had you stood so close to him.

Quietly you uttered “Thank you, Ser Harwin. Once again. And for bringing me home.”

Quick as a whistle, you pressed a kiss of gratitude to his cheek.

Ser Harwin was speechless, should the king hear of this…the youngest daughter…

You handed him back his helmet, which he took.

He did not know what to say, and with an inclination of the head, turned to leave.

You let the invitation roll out of your mouth before you grew too afraid to do so “If you fear I might leave again tonight, perhaps you could remain at my side and make certain that I do not leave my room.”

He turned to face you again, there was still doubt in him that the proposition was intended “How do you expect me to do that, Princess ?”

You gave him the answer by placing a hand on his chest.

He took hold of your wrist, trying to resist what was offered.

Your eyes met his, a yearning existing in both “I see how you look at me.”

How could you ignore the way you often caught him starring at you ?

His calloused hand cupped your cheek, his other was placed on your waist.

You were steered backwards into your room by him before he finally dared to give in to what his heart desired.

By the time the door fell shut, he had already claimed your lips.

The task to keep you in your room tonight was one he was eager to fulfill.

[lilpotatjj]

WATTPAD:

AN: This chapter contains death, and is the start of a bigger chapter. enjoy <3

Congratulation...Captain?

Chapter 8

"Are you ready for the funeral, Captain?" asks Maya, standing quietly in the doorway. Black is the color that is omnipresent, just not in the 19 itself. Everyone is dressed in mourning clothes. Andy turns to Maya and nods without saying a word.....

FLASHBACK

You'd think a movie was being filmed here at the sight of the 19. Andy is struck by lightning and without thinking or any protective clothing she wants to run off and smother the fire with her own hands. "Andy! No!" Vic and Travis struggle to hold Andy down. "NO! We have to put it out, it's my home, my father's home!" distraught with tears in her eyes, she watches the station burn to the ground.

"Andy we have to find a safe place!" Andy is numb, as if nothing exists around her, nothing but her and the burning station. With great effort, they drag Andy away and finally find safe shelter just before a huge tornado sweeps through the city. You yourself have also made it to safety, along with a few other strangers, neighbors and firefighters from other stations.

Andy sat curled up in one of the shelters, completely absent-minded and in shock. It was hours before the storm finally passed. The silence is so intense and weighs so heavily.

"what the...." Warren looks shocked. "who.... who did this? one of our people?" Warren and the others gradually gather in front of the 19 floor. A sad picture stretches out, but it is not completely destroyed. Someone has contained the fire and prevented the entire 19 from burning down. Andy goes closer and looks around. Almost the entire barn and the vehicles inside have burned down, but the rest has been spared by both the fire and the storm. Travis and the others look around cautiously. Andy is relieved that only the barn has been hit, but it still hurts to look at it. You join them and can't believe what you see. "Andy!" you run to her and you both start to cry, more with relief than with horror at the recent events.

"Travis? Travis, what is it?" Vic comes to him and sees his silent and empty look. "What..." Vic stops in all her movements as she also turns her gaze in the same direction Travis is looking. " oh my god..." Andy, you and the others come to see what's going on and pause as they realize who is lying there. Heavily burned, you can barely read the name written on the jacket. Vic falls to her knees and Travis hides his face under his hand as he bends down to Vic and tries to comfort her.

FLASHBACK END

Everyone is lined up in several rows, salutes, and lets the preacher speak his phases. Andy at the front as the stations captain senses everyone's tension and holds the firefighter's helmet with the name Ruiz firmly in her hands. She finally places it on his coffin and salutes him with a strength that could weather any storm. A brother has fallen, made it his mission to save his own station and had to pay for it with his own life.

It is quiet even after the funeral service. Andy is the only one who remains at his grave and pauses. You stand close behind her, but give her space. He saved the station from burning down completely. Andy can't put into words how grateful she is and yet she is shocked at the price everyone has to pay.

"you saved my home...my father's, all of us...." She lowers her head so that her hat covers her face. "it wasn't your job...I should have done it" the tears run down her face. You come to Andy, who wipes away her tears.

"hey..." you stroke her back and she smiles tightly.

"He died a hero," Andy says and swallows. "I'll never forget him. As long as I live." You smile sympathetically and take her hand. "Come on... let's go to the others and have something to eat. The funeral feast has long since begun." The two of you head off to meet up with everyone else. Chief Ross is also there to offer her condolences. Gathered around the large, long table, it suddenly becomes very quiet as Andy stands up quietly.

"The 19 is still standing largely because we lost one of our brothers, who decided with all his efforts to save our home. A place where I owe my childhood, a place where I grew up!" Andy pauses for a moment and continues. "Ruiz was a good captain for a short time, wanted to continue to be captain and did everything he could to ensure that we were always safe. His last task was to save our home!" Andy raises her glass. "He was a hero and will always be our hero.

Everyone toasts, but the sadness is written on everyone's face.

"Andy, I will do everything necessary to ensure that the station is open again as quickly as possible," said Chief Ross as she goes to Andy, hugs her and looks at her empathetically.

"Thank you chief..." You walk over to Andy and hug her too.

"Your words were very moving," you smile at her and she simply kisses you on the mouth in front of everyone, which doesn't go unnoticed by the others.

"No more secrets"

You look at her in surprise and let your gaze wander around the group, almost all of them are looking at you with a surprised smile. Chief Ross just starts to applaud and Vic comes dancing to you. "Well at least we have something positive to celebrate today" Travis raises his glass and everyone laughs at Vic's dancing.

You both smile happily. "It will take a while until the station is ready, I'll make sure that everyone stays in other stations for the time being. But don't worry, it's only temporary" Ross said.

"Leave Y/N and I out for now" Andy says and Both you and Ross look at Andy questioningly. "We wanted to take a break anyway." Andy takes your hand. "We're flying to Puerto Rico." Everyone looks excited and Ross nods in agreement.

Just a few days after the funeral service you pack your bags. "and how long do you plan to be in Puerto Rico?" you look at Herrera questioningly. "As long as it keeps us there. the station won't be functional for another two months. Pack lots of sunscreen." Andy laughs and finishes packing everything together with you. "The trip will do us good, give us other ideas." You agree and hug Andy lovingly. "I'll go everywhere with you." Andy smiles happily for the first time in a long time and kisses you tenderly.

All packed up, you set off in the middle of the night and arrive at the airport. On the way to check in, Andy takes your hand and smiles happily at you. You feel how Andy can gradually let go.

About Robert.

About the guilty conscience of being captain and, above all....

the fear of getting involved in a relationship with you.

When you get on the plane, you buckle up, hold your hands and take a deep breath.

"Off to homeland" Andy laughs and shortly afterwards the plane rolls off, takes off and a beautiful nighttime view from above, Seattle shows all the beauty of the city. After a few hours the sun rises as you slowly reach Puerto Rico. Blue-turquoise water, palm trees and colorful houses can be seen and Andy can't help but smile broadly.

"Puerto Rico...prepárate...ya vamos!"

Be prepared! the next chap will be a long, full of fluff and also a 18+ raw smut chapter which I wil mark clearly. (if you wanna skip feel free. the 18+ isn't story relevant)