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[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

NEXT ->

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[milf-murdock]

The Accident

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Simon gets the call that you’ve been in an accident and are in the hospital.  Warnings: Health scare, mention of hospitals, accident (non graphic), brief mention of injuries (non graphic), hurt/comfort, Soft Simon  A/N: This piece is dedicated to a very sweet anon who has been through a lot. Anon, I hope this brings you some comfort <3 I’ve also decided to submit it to @glitterypirateduck's May Writing Challenge! This is one of my favorite tropes, so I hope you all enjoy! Special thank you to @sim0nril3y for taking a look and for all the support

The knife glides effortlessly through the tomato, the metal utensil familiar in Simon’s grip. He makes quick work of the produce, fingers moving rapidly and precisely. “Knife skills aren’t just for the field,” he chuckles to himself as he adds the chopped remains to a bowl before turning his blade on a shallot. 

Just as he slices into the root, the clattering vibration of his phone against the countertop interrupts. Simon frowns at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. Not many people had this number; he wasn’t one to get stray phone calls, which is exactly how he likes it. He has half a mind to send it to voicemail, but something tugs at his edges. At the last second he swipes across the screen and raises the phone to his ear. The line is empty for a moment. 

“Simon?” The sound of your hoarse voice has Simon’s spine straightening, instantly on high alert. 

“What’s happened.” The sharp words come out more like a statement than a question. Simon’s heartbeat quickens. 

“I’m okay,” you start, but your wobbly voice betrays you. "But there was an accident—" Simon is in motion. Dinner is forgotten on the counter as he heads for the door, stepping into his boots on the way. 

“Where are you?” There’s a commotion in the background, some kind of beeping that Simon can’t make out. He catches your hesitation as you wait to reply. 

“Love. Where. Are. You.” His words are clipped, and for a split second he fears the phone might actually splinter in his hands given how hard he’s clenching the device. 

“I’m in A&E. I—the ambulance just brought me here.” 

Simon’s world tilts before him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in deep. One single stabilizing breath is all he allows himself before opening his eyes, resolute determination clear on his face as a decade of training takes over. 

“I’m on my way.” The phone clicks off as he grabs the keys off the hook by the door and rushes to the car.

The drive is a blur; he doesn’t pay attention to how fast he’s going, or what color the stoplights may be. Traffic laws are relative—he’s a man on a mission. His sole focus is getting to you. His heart pounds in his chest as he navigates the final turn, the hospital finally coming into view. 

The car barely comes to a full and complete stop at the entryway before Simon’s door flies open. 

“Sir, you can’t park here!” A disgruntled attendant calls out to him as he exits the vehicle, but Simon doesn’t even slow down, stepping around the irritated employee before barreling through the hospital entrance. 

Only to be brought to a halt at the open lobby before him. 

Shit. He hadn’t even thought to ask what room you were in. The frustration intertwines with the panic, and Simon has to force it down. 

He’s here. He’ll find you. 

And so Simon finds himself at the mercy of the kind, elderly receptionist, who seems to be taking her sweet time locating your information. 

Simon tries not to crack the counter beneath his grip, foot tapping against the ground in irritation. You could be in surgery, you could be bleeding out, any number of things could be happening right this moment, and there is nothing he can do. Simon silences these thoughts, keeping the panic at bay. “Keep it together, lieutenant,” he reminds himself silently. 

The receptionist, Shelley, her name tag reads, is unfazed by his erratic state, eyes squinting as she adjusts her glasses and leans back from the screen. Simon runs a hand down his face, using every ounce of self control he has to keep up a semblance of propriety. 

“Ahh,” Shelley announces triumphantly. “Here they are! I found them.” She turns her gaze to the hulking man in front of her, taking in his large form and tentatively eyeing the tattoos along his forearm. “Sorry, what was your relation to the patient again?” She asks, a note of uncertainty laces her tone. 

“I’m—” he hesitates. No words come to the tip of his tongue. He’s not a boyfriend for christ’s sake. Not your husband, though he wished more than ever he could use that word right now. 

“Spouse? Partner?” Shelley raises an eyebrow, trying to help fill in the blanks here.

Simon swallowed hard. “Yeah, partner. Just, can you tell me where they are? Please.”  

He’s not sure what comes over him as he tacks on that final plea. The desperation is clear in his words, but he couldn’t care less. Fuck it, he is desperate. Desperate to see you. Desperate to know you are okay—see it with his own eyes, feel your hands in his. 

Shelley’s pointed gaze turns to one of sympathy. “Room 315, dear. The lift is to the right.” 

The words are barely out of her mouth before Simon’s in motion once more. No time for the lift, he thinks to himself as he heads to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. Brown eyes frantically scan every room number as he searches for yours before finally finding the correct digits outside the room furthest down the hall. The metal of the door handle is cool beneath his touch as he pushes open the door, charging into the room.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, eyes frantically scanning your body, taking stock of each and every visible injury. He can hardly control the wave of emotions that threaten to pull him down as he takes in your bruised and bandaged appearance. 

They’ve already set your arm in a sling, and there’s a large bulk encompassing your entire right leg, the bulk of it obvious even under the thin hospital blanket. An array of cuts and scrapes mar your perfect face, and the sudden onset of pure, unadulterated rage threatens to swallow him whole. 

‘I’m going to kill them,’ the words echo in his mind–a dozen violent deaths planned out for whoever did this to you. 

“Simon,” your hoarse voice calls out to him, but he can’t hear you over the sound of the roaring in his head. 

‘I’m going to hunt them down. And I’m going to fucking kill them for this.’

“Simon,” you say his name louder, firmer, and attempt to sit yourself up. Pain radiates through your body, piercing through the haze of pain meds, and you can’t help the cry of pain that escapes your lips. 

That is what pulls Simon out. On instinct, his feet move towards your bed, hand reaching out to clasp around your free hand. 

Your lower lip trembles. “Simon.” The word is pitiful on your lips–a plea, a prayer, a cry for help. 

It’s enough to pull Simon from the depths of this rage–revenge can wait. 

“I’m here.” Simon’s voice wraps around you like a warm blanket, and the dam breaks, tears flowing fast and freely. “It was awful,” you gasp out between sobs. Simon makes soothing shushing sounds as he holds your hand tight in his own, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tears away, taking care to avoid the scrapes that litter your skin as you recount what details you can remember of the accident. 

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘M sorry I wasn’t there, babe.” Bile threatens to rise in the back of his throat as the guilt settles in.

“Should’ve been there, should’ve never left your fucking side.” He stares at the layers of gauze wrapped around your leg, hidden beneath the thin blanket. 

“Simon. Look at me,” you insist, waiting for those brown eyes to turn back to you. “Don’t go down that road, Si. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.” 

“You don’t know that,” he bites back. Simon immediately regrets the harshness of his note. “You don’t know that,” he tries again, softer this time. “Should’ve been there.” He runs a hand over his face, the adrenaline is fading, causing the events of the past hour to finally catch up to him. He exhales sharply and looks back up at you, eyes determined. 

“But ‘m here now. It’s over. I’m here.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “And I’m not going anywhere, love.”

True to his word, Simon stays by your bedside the entire three day stay in the hospital. He denies your pleas to go home and sleep in his own bed, insisting on sleeping in the rough, uncomfortable hospital recliner. Not only was the furniture laughably small for a man of his stature, but after the first night, Simon is convinced it was designed as some kind of long-term-torture device. Not once does he complain though, dismissing your worries with a casual wave of his hand. “Slept in worse conditions in the field, love. This beats a forest floor.” Though by night two, Simon isn’t so sure. 

He’s always struggled with nightmares, but those nights in the hospital, his dreams turn to something worse: losing you in a car accident. The scene replays over and over in his mind’s eye until he’s woken up with a start, covered in sweat, and gasping for air. His eyes instantly lock on to the vital signs monitor above you, watching the thin green line of your heartbeat bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. He slows his own breathing down to match pace with yours, staring down at you as you sleep soundly. He watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest, further confirmation that you’re alive. 

When he finally gets to bring you home, he acts as though you’re made of fine china, driving ten under the speed limit. He carefully guides you into the house, hands ready to catch you as you struggle with the metal crutches. 

“Fuck,” you spit in frustration. “They made it look so easy in the hospital.” 

After the second time you almost trip over them, Simon’s exasperation gets the best of him. 

“Easy, swee’heart,” he implores, a note of desperation in his voice. “Just got you back, yeah? Can’t have you goin’ right back to A&E.” 

He wishes more than anything he could just scoop you up into his arms and carry you straight to the bedroom, but with your leg in its current state, he has to settle for just hovering, perpetually at the ready to catch and support you. He swears the walk from the car to getting you settled in bed takes an entire year off his life. 

That first night back at home together, Simon lays awake, watching you sleep. The combination of finally being back in the comfort of your own bed, along with the lack of obnoxiously loud machines beeping and being encumbered by wires, means you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. Simon lays beside you, as close as he dares to get, still so weary of your injuries. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your temple, just above where a deep cut runs down your face. His finger hovers just above your skin as he traces the shape. “‘M sorry, love. I promise, I’ll take care of ya. This won’t happen again.” His words are barely above a whisper, drowned out by the soft snores of your breathing. He presses one more gentle kiss to you before turning out the light. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[eevees-hobbies]

Nasty Girl (Fem!Reader x Ren Kaji) - NSFW

Author’s Note: I was sitting in traffic, and Lick or Sum by GloRilla started playing, and I thought, “this would make Kaji blush if it blasted through his headphones.” Anyway, GloRilla and Tinashe songs are referenced below, but you don’t have to know those songs to enjoy the story 🙂

Synopsis: New Fear has been Unlocked: not disconnecting your music from your boyfriend's headphones. Now, he just has to match your freak. 

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Ren Kaji. Sensory Deprivation (hearing), lyrics are explicit, Kaji imagines you giving him a lap dance, mention of Kaji smelling your sex, cunnilingus, p in v, dom behavior, dirty talk, use of the words slut and brat, ass smacking, talk of worshipping that ass, and technically a cumshot/creampie combo. Tis smut. Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 2.4K

Divider by @strangergraphics. Story banner by me.

If you and Kaji could add music sharing to the official list of love languages, it would be underlined, bolded, and highlighted as it serves as an integral part of your relationship.

You appreciate Kaji’s favorite genres. Some of your dates with him include attending concerts—hard-hitting drums and thunderous electric rifts from bands like Metallica, Slipknot, and Megadeth make up some of your fondest memories with him.

Kaji enjoys listening to you express your musical taste, too. You are most certainly not a monolith; your taste in music varies, drifting through the ebbs and flows of enjoying different beats and sounds as you float between different genres depending on your mood.

While some of the songs you like may not resonate with him personally, he’ll always nod along as you gush about your favorite artists. He adores how your face lights up, whether you’re talking about rock, metal, hip-hop, or everything else in between. So when you apologize because you’re "talking his ear off," he’ll shake his head and encourage you to keep going. “Please tell me more about Megan Thee Stallion’s new album.”

Not only do you two exchange opinions on music, but it also isn’t unusual for you to borrow his headphones to listen to your playlist. 

One day, you were preparing to make dinner, so you reached for your cell phone to put on some motivational tunes to get you through the monotony of dicing vegetables.

As you pushed play on your phone, you tilted your head to the side. You didn’t hear lyrical prose coming from the speakers. Instead, you heard the distinct sound of deafening silence. You pushed the play button again, considering that maybe you hadn’t pressed the correct area on the screen.

Still, nothing. 

As you pick up your device to investigate whether the volume is on, Kaji, seated on the couch in the other room, scrunches his nose. 

The music from the band In Flames suddenly stopped and was replaced by what he assumed to be something you were attempting to listen to. 

His eyebrows furrow as he genuinely listens to the lyrics.

Lick on my clit, make this pussy cream. Do this motherfucker how you do them Russian creams.

Yeah, there’s no doubt that this is from your playlist, and it was certainly…graphic. 

Kaji rises from the couch and approaches the kitchen doorway, pausing under the doorframe to admire you. His eyes wander over your shape, your ass jutting out a bit as you lean your elbows on the counter. 

The lyrics are still drilling into his ear, raunchier and more explicit than the first few lines he heard, but he can’t help but wonder if you’d be willing to sing these lyrics to him. He imagines your pretty lips mouthing filthy shit into his ear. 

His cock twitches, thinking about you dancing to the song, flirting your hips and ass in his lap as you tease him, letting his hands explore your body as you dip low and bend over, letting him see the way your ass eats up the fabric of shorts. Before he knows it, he’s rock hard, the outline of his dick protruding through his black skinny jeans. 

You still haven’t identified the problem, and right as you consider force-closing the application, you feel Kaji press his body against your back. You jump a little at his sudden presence and open your mouth to tell him to give you a warning next time, but before you can, he places one shell of the headphones over your ear, leaving the one closest to his mouth uncovered.

“Interesting taste you have. What did she say? ‘All over his breath like pussy flavored gum’”

Well, damn, then.

Your knees suddenly feel as though they may not be able to keep you upright, trembling and unstable, as if you’re a new babe learning how to walk again. You feel the warmth of his breath, sweet and cherry-flavored, on the back of your neck. 

Your boyfriend never talks like this. Kaji isn’t vanilla by any means, but he definitely doesn’t say things like GloRilla does in her song. 

You laugh nervously. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how hard he’s pressing your body into the edge of the counter.

“I didn’t realize that I hadn’t disconnected Bluetooth.” 

“No, looks like you didn’t.”

Kaji reaches up and places the other headphone shell over your ear—music drowns out any of the sounds in the kitchen, like the ticking of the clock on the wall or Kaji’s breathing in your ear. Instead, it’s replaced with the beginning of Tinashe’s Nasty.

I've been a nasty girl, nasty.

As she asks if anyone’s going to match her freak, you can feel Kaji’s hands tracing down your body, squeezing your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress, fingers lingering over your nipples despite the presence of your bra. He knows your body so well that he can locate them simply from memory. 

As he glides his hands down your stomach, you prepare for him to touch you where you need him the most. The drooling, twitching mess that she is needs him.

But Kaji’s hands move behind you instead of touching you where you ache. You let out an audible whine that earns you an unseen smirk. Yeah, he knows what you think you need, but he knows better. 

Need somebody with a good technique Is somebody gonna match my nasty?

He crouches down, hands lifting your dress; you don’t need a verbal command to know to kick up your feet so he can pull your panties down and toss them to the side. 

If you keep up with me I'll keep on comin' back

With his strong hands placed firmly on your ass, his fingers grip and fondle the plush flesh, earning a strangled moan from your throat. You wiggle your ass in an attempt to get him to stop toying with you and touch you. But all you earn is a searing smack to your ass cheek and Kaji’s eyes appreciating the way you jiggle for him. 

If you do it too good I'm gonna get attached

You yelp, your skin feeling a brief sting from his palm. You pout, but honestly, you only have yourself to blame, and you should absolutely know better. Kaji prefers it when you behave yourself, but when you are fervent about acting up? Fine, either a firm smack to your ass or clit, or a hand wrapped around your throat is quick to put you in your place. 

But he’s not cruel. Punishments are his last resort, and as he presses his lips to the tender spot where he smacked your ass, offering you a gentle peace treaty, you’re reminded of that. 

You once again jerk from his touch, feeling like something is pricking at your ass, but the kitchen counter and the way he’s keeping you held against it leave you with limited escape routes. 

Kaji licks the indentations his teeth made on your cheek, a low growl erupting from his throat.

Fuck, he wouldn’t call himself an ass worshipper, but he’d be willing to drop to his knees and press his forehead against the filthy ground on the street to pay homage to yours. 

Cause it feels like heaven when it hurts so bad Baby, put it on me I like it just like that

“Kaji, that hurt!”

The benefit of you being unable to hear is that Kaji doesn’t have to answer you. If he did, you’d probably hate the answer. A monotone “Good” from him would probably warrant an attitude from you. And he doesn’t want attitude—at least not at this moment—he just wants a well-intentioned taste. 

You gasp as he presses his face into your sex, nose nudging against your folds, inhaling all of you. His mouth is watering as his tongue licks up and down your already wet slit, your slick sticking to your folds in the way fresh honey sticks to a honeycomb. His fingers spread your cunt open, eyeing the way you already dribble like a slut for him.

Your eyes roll back as he delivers a peck to your pussy, then a longer kiss until his mouth forms in an opened-mouth make-out session with her, not being liberal with the use of his tongue. You begin to press yourself back onto his mouth, daring his tongue to be even deeper. And Kaji doesn’t fight you; you give a silent thanks that he’s allowing you to fuck his tongue. 

He brings his hand between your thighs, allowing the palm of his hand to rub against your clit as you bounce back on his face.

“You’re so messy,” he growls into your cunt as your slick drips down his chin and drenches his palm. And it’s the god-honest truth; your cunt is dripping, hot, wet, thick, and languid, coating his tongue and throat with your essence. You’re his favorite indulgence. When he has a sweet tooth, he doesn’t think of or crave candy; he thinks of you. 

As your cum cascades into his mouth, his tongue cleans up every inch of you, tongue sliding between your folds, over your clit, your clitoral hood, and even your inner thighs. By the time he considers it a job well done, you’re glistening in his saliva more so than your cum. 

Wiping his mouth against the back of his hand, he rises again to take his place pressed against your back.

“K-Kaji,” your moan is desperate as you press your ass against his crotch. “Need you so bad, baby!”

Kaji can’t help but keep his eyes on you as your head falls back to rest on his shoulder. You don’t realize how loud you’re being with the music playing in your ears, but he desperately hopes the neighbors can hear every single thing you yell. 

Each gasp and moan leaving your lips has him throbbing, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes travel down to your neck, watching you swallow so thickly, eyes pooling with desperation and pleading to have him, him, him.

He hikes one of your legs onto the counter, forcing you to knock over some of the produce you were planning to use for dinner. 

He’s not very patient, even in moments where he wants to savor you; he’s his own worst enemy and too eager to feel you around him. He’s already stretching your cunt apart with the head of his dick, and you lean over to give him a better angle. 

Kaji, ever the appreciative one, bottoms out immediately, stretching your hole to the thickest part of him.  

With each jerk of his hips, the headphones shift until they clatter onto the counter in front of you. The sounds you were unable to hear before overwhelm your senses immediately. You catch the end of Kaji sputtering your name so loudly that you’re surprised you didn’t hear him over the music.

“Fuck, why are you so messy?” He rasps out, breath shakey and labored not from exertion but from simply being so consumed by his desire for you he can’t help but suck in too much oxygen. 

“M-maybe it’s the way you just slobbered on my pussy?”

“Oh, god. There’s that fucking mouth. Headphones must be off.” You earn another smack to your ass and the quickening of his ruts into your sopping cunt. “Like you better when you’re too busy moaning like a slut to be a brat.”

You practically mewl in appreciation of being called a slut and a brat in the same sentence.

“Yeah, look at ya squeezing me tight, brat. Jerkin’ me off with your needy pussy.”

You bury your face into the crook of your elbow, moaning and face heating up because he’s fucking right; your pussy is wringing him, hoping to coax every last drop of his cum out of his balls.

Kaji hisses. Without warning, your cunt clamps down onto him, halting his rutting, “Fuck, pretty girl. Already?”

You whine because, really, what the fuck were you supposed to do? He should be praising you for holding on this long.

As your clenching stops, he has a bit more clearance to continue his thrusts, bottoming out into your tight, orgasming sex. The wet, squelching sound your pussy makes as Kaji hilts you are loud,  filthy, lewd, practically sounding of nothing but sin. He can’t help but think, “like those songs she likes,” as he whimpers at the thought.

“Fuck, well, I’m glad you’re feeling good. Gonna let me cum now?” He’s teasing you because, of course, he can cum. You aren’t stopping him—the more the fucking merrier. You try to utter precisely that, but he juts his hips sharply, knowing you were going to say something with that smart-ass mouth of yours, the tip of his dick drilling against your g-spot.

Your nails scrape against the counter, trying to grip and claw at something. “K-kaji, I’m…!”

You bite your lip, that all-too-familiar tightening overtaking you until it bursts, and another orgasm rips through you. 

Kaji groans and pulls out with urgency because there’s something he has to do. Call it a compulsion or whatever label you want to assign to it, but it’s something he’s compelled to do to you when the urge to cum inside doesn’t sway him.

He spreads your labia with his thumb, butterflying your pretty pussy for him. He’s giving himself solid pumps with his free hand, eyes never leaving your ass, loving the way it looks sticking out like this for him. He gasps, his moan raspy but so deliciously loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck here it c-comes!”

His cum shoots out, splattering all over your waiting hole until it’s so covered by his thick, white seed that he can’t see your opening anymore. And the final part of the ritual? Smearing it all over your folds, the fleshy pink of you, and pushing it back in with the tip of his dick for good measure.

“What even is that fetish called?” you mumble.

“I don’t have a fetish. I just like doing…this.” He can’t tear his eyes away at how pretty she looks, covered in white.

He finally places a kiss on the back of your neck, his hand reaching around your fucked out and bent over form to grasp his headphones. “Forget cooking. Let’s order in.”

And maybe after this romp in the kitchen, you both had inadvertently conditioned yourselves to use certain songs to initiate sex. His dick automatically hardening when you play songs that bring him back to the moment in the kitchen, and him placing the headphones over your ears as he fucks you to the same music that celebrates getting your back blown out.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 3

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, minor political conversation, minor mentions of sexual encounters.

It was the sound of your coffee pot automatically brewing that originally roused you from sleeping, the beeping signalling it was done the reason you finally got out of bed. Traipsing down the stairs still in your silk pj set you yawned, starting to stretch out your body, dropping your phone on the breakfast bar before padding through the living room to open the blinds. The sun slowly rising through the sky and you deemed it warm enough to crack one of the windows, letting yourself actually get some fresh air on a work day. Wandering back to the kitchen you pulled down a coffee mug, adding a bit of creamer from the fridge before filling it with coffee. Right as you went to take your first sip, your phone buzzed on the countertop and you let out a huff, scooping up the device to a text from Heather.

‘You can work from home, it’s a low day.’

‘Thank god. I really didn’t want to put real clothes on.’

‘Well you’ll have to at some point. You’ve got lunch at Old Ebbitt Grill at two.’

‘Who am I schmoozing for you?’

‘Emily Prentiss.’

‘The fed from yesterday? What’d’ you need with the FBI?’

‘She asked to meet with you. You’ll have to discuss it with her.’ ‘Put it on my card.’

‘Alright. Thanks.’

‘Wear that Tom Ford blouse I like so much.’

‘The blue one?’

‘It brings out your eyes.’

‘I’m beginning to think you might have ulterior motives going on here...’

‘Enjoy your lunch.’

You dropped the phone back onto the counter with a huff, knowing you weren’t getting another word out of her on the subject. It wasn’t unlike Heather to send you in to do a certain level of dirty work when it came to getting other politicians to do what she wanted. It was technically part of your job, she would simply just suggest you use your assets in a way she couldn’t to get them to lean her way, and it almost always worked. Still, you couldn’t possibly imagine what a Section Chief from the FBI would want with your skill set, surely the bureau had their own type of publicists to deal with whatever kind of a situation this was.

You glanced to the clock above the stove to find it was barely eight o’clock and nearly debated going back to bed but you knew that was a bad idea and turned to your coffee instead. You thought about what to do for breakfast while you grabbed your work phone and laptop from your bag, setting them up on the breakfast bar before opening the fridge. You settled on some easy eggs and avocado on toast and restarted the coffee machine to brew a fresh pot, turning on an instrumental playlist on your phone to get your day going and your brain running.

Finished with the food, you refilled your coffee and settled in at the counter to start sorting through emails, shooting one off to Heather with reminders of all the upcoming week’s appointments, meetings and appearances. The rest of the morning felt rather dull, the anticipation of lunch piquing your curiosity more often than not, sending you down spirals rather than focusing on your actual work. You caught yourself leafing through FBI websites and any news articles you could get your hands on, and considering the status you held, that was more than the general public.

Finally around eleven thirty your brain couldn’t get through another email and you opted to jump over to the gym for a quick workout to distract yourself for a bit. You left more than enough time to shower, making sure you were fresh and styled, selecting the blue blouse Heather had recommended before finally leaving your house.

Old Ebbitt Grill wasn’t far, it only took you ten minutes to get there, especially considering the lack of midafternoon traffic. You’d been there a few times before, a standard choice for business lunches among the elite of Washington, close enough to Capitol Hill that it was convenient but just far enough away that it was slightly more away from eavesdropping ears. You pulled up the drive in front and were offered valet service that you accepted, passing off a five for a tip before heading inside where you were greeted by a young bubbly hostess.

“Hi,” you smiled back, “reservation at two, could be under Walton, Prentiss or Dunbar. I think it’s only for two.”

Her finger began scanning through the reservation look in search of one of the names, “oh! There you are.” She beamed up at you, “Walton for two. You’re the first to arrive, would you like to wait or be seated?”

“I’ll sit.” You laughed softly, “god knows I could use a drink.”                                                    

“Of course, right this way.”

You were led past the bar area to the dining room and directed to a green velvet back booth, white table cloth adorning the table. You slid in as the hostess scooped up the extra place settings and wine glasses,

“Can I get something started for you?”

“Uh… two waters and a glass of pinot grigio would be fantastic, thanks.”

With another smile she was gone from the table and you were left to settle in, glancing at your watch you realized you were practically twenty minutes early and let out a soft sigh. Punctuality was almost too much of your strong point, but at least you were never late for things. You scanned the menu quickly, sliding it off to the side to pull out a work file that you’d been putting off looking through, thanking the server that came back with your drinks.

*

When Emily entered the restaurant she wasn’t entirely too sure what she was getting into, it almost felt weird to be doing this during the day, especially on what was technically a work day. She’d gotten an out of office lunch and work from home afternoon approved so she didn’t have to drive back, and it was Friday so she just kept telling herself it was an early weekend. The hostess picked up right away that she was meeting someone and offered up your last name to confirm before guiding her through the room.

The moment they were through the bar Emily had eyes on you, neatly tucked into a booth, a pen in your hand and a file folder in front of you that all your attention was focused on. Your hair was pulled back off your face but most of it still down and loosely styled. The make up on your face was slightly more detailed than it had been when she’d met you at the office, a little heavier around the eyes, a slightly less neutral lip. Your outfit hugged your frame, accentuating your body perfectly, blue top dipping slightly to expose a tasteful amount of cleavage, black pencil skirt leaving just enough leg out to be admired, and of course designer heels on your feet. It was all accented with a silver bracelet, necklace resting on the swell of your chest and jeweled earrings to match your shirt. You glanced up at the movement coming toward you, a smile taking over your face as you greeted her.

“Agent Prentiss,” you smiled as she slipped into the booth, “or, is that a demotion? Should it be Section Chief Prentiss?”

“That’s way too much of a mouthful.” She laughed, “just Emily’s fine.”

“Alright.” You shot her a grin, flipping the file shut and capping the pen before you slid it back into your purse, “sorry, work never ends.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” While she was concerned she may have been late, she was happy to see that you were completely content on your own, and that you took work on the go, already another green flag in her book.

“Oh not at all, I have a habit of being insanely early wherever I go.”

There was a slight pause as the server came over to ask about drinks and Emily glanced towards you, your eyes flicked to your half empty glass and you thought about it for a second.

“You may as well bring another one.”

“Heather okay with you drinking on the clock?” Emily asked with a small grin.

“Have you met a politician who doesn’t?” You laughed, “you know… I think that’s the biggest difference between our branches of government, you’re usually armed. The only weapons we carry are our words and nefarious blackmail.”

Emily chuckled at that, watching as you took a sip, “well I took a half day.” She turned to the server, “I’ll have a sauvignon blanc please.”

A few moments later they returned with Emily’s wine and the two of you placed an order for a round of appetizers consisting of scallops, beet and burrata, calamari and the bread service. Conversation flowed easily enough, chatting here and there about the day, how the weather seemed to finally be warm enough to enjoy being outside, little tidbits about work. Emily found joy in the fact that you could keep up with her when she mentioned work, that it didn’t take an extra three tangents of explaining details for you to understand what she meant. By the time the food came out, the two of you were fully comfortable around each other and after a bite of a scallop, you decided to make the jump to attempt to get to the point.

“So, I know I’ve heard that the BAU’s in a bit of hot water right now, but I didn’t think you needed a full PR takeover. Don’t you have your own communications team for those kind of things?”

Emily stalled, quickly popping a piece of calamari into her mouth to spare her a few seconds to figure out how to start things. “Uhm….” She swallowed the food down, chuckling awkwardly, “that’s not exactly why I wanted to meet. Heather… recommended you for something else.”

“Ah…” You leant back against the booth, your elbow draping over the back of it, “I knew Heather had ulterior motives about today but I didn’t realize she was passing me off to utilize the extra skill set.” You chuckled, having now figured out exactly what Emily was alluding to, but you weren’t going to let her off that easy, you wanted to hear her say it. The corner of your lips twitched up at the way she tensed across the table from you and you went in with another tease and false lead. “You want to know what other PR teams I’m close with, whose assistants have loose lips or an axe to grind, dig up a little dirt on someone. Director Bailey? AG? Who’s the thorn in your side, hmm?”

The knot in her stomach burst at the latter part of your sentence, suddenly distracted she glanced up at you with a furrowed brow, “wait, you could really get in with the AG for me?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded over a sip of wine, “she thinks she’s a good friend, would you like me to do some nosing around?”

“No, no.” She waved you off, “that could get you in trouble.”

“Emily, believe me, with most of them all you need is a few too many glasses of wine, a little flattery, maybe a hint of an illegal substance and they’ll tell you whatever you want.”

She let out a low laugh, “I’m going to ignore that last part.” You chuckled as she picked up her wine, taking another sip while you scooped up another scallop. “You certainly have some kind of pedigree, don’t you?”

“I had a lot of ladders to climb to get where I am now, and a decent education and quick thinking always helps.”

“Was PR always the goal, or did you have your eye on Capitol Hill?” She asked and you nearly snorted.

“Where I am is where I want to be. Communications Major at UCONN, followed by a stint at Georgetown.”

“What does a ‘stint’ consist of?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Just a little law degree, never really intended to use it just wanted the knowledge.”

“Did you write the bar?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, taking another sip of wine, “passed with flying colours. Just never really saw myself as a lawyer, fighting in courtrooms isn’t my style.”

“So why bother with the extra three years then?”

You shrugged, “Heather paid for it. Said if I was overqualified for a role I could bargain for better pay.”

“Wow…” Emily’s eyes widened, “she must really like you.”

“We’ve known each other a long time. She always knew she wanted me working for her in some capacity and she needed someone who she could trust, someone who was going to know what they were doing and was right for the field. When you work for Dunbar you have to fit the brand. Now making sure that brand is upheld is my job, she had to start with someone.”

“You enjoy working for her? She’s a good boss?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “being on her payroll is better than any other politician in the country, maybe even the world. She has a much higher level of expectations that always need to be met, she knows quality, she knows class and she demands it out of everyone. So she supplements with extras to make sure we know how appreciated we are and to keep us loyal.”

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.”

“She always does.” You leant forward, bracing your elbow on the table so your chin could rest in the palm of your hand, “which is why I know whatever she suggested I help you with is exactly what you need. But I’m starting to feel like I have to sign an NDA to even have this conversation.”

Emily sucked in a deep breath letting out a sigh before reaching for her wine glass, “well… I am hoping for a certain level of discretion and the previous couple of times I’ve tried this it didn’t exactly work in my favour.” She glanced back across the table to find your head still perched on your hand, eyes full of curiosity as you looked back at her and she nearly gulped.

“Do tell… what is it you want from me Agent Prentiss?” Your voice was lowered, both an attempt to get her to own up and to make sure you weren’t overheard, “I work in PR, I know how to uphold an image and believe me, I know how to keep a secret.”

She swallowed down a gulp of wine before slowly beginning to speak, “I’m… looking for someone who is willing to spend a night or two a week together, could be friendly company, could be more if you’re comfortable. And I’m willing to pay.” She winced, suddenly stopping herself, “wait, that sounded bad.”

You chuckled softly, smiling across the table at her to urge her to continue.

“Basically, I’ve got a bit of spare time and extra finances. I need someone who understands I can’t always be around, that work can and will upend plans constantly and suddenly. Someone who values privacy. I don’t have time to do the whole dating thing, the strings that come along with that.”

“Casual intimacy in exchange for fancy dinners, pricey jewels and lavish vacations?” You murmured softly, your head tilting in her direction and she nodded, “well… now we’re finally on the same page.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

Your eyes slowly raked over her, taking in her beauty, a small grin on your lips as you nodded, “Mmhm.”

“And the stipulations that come along with my work?”

“Not an issue. As you know, I have my own career and working for Heather can be a twenty four seven, seven days a week job and similar to yours, it includes a lot of travel. Discretion is easily attainable and I know how to uphold a certain image.”

“Good.” She let out a low huff of a laugh, “the last couple of dates I went on before this were garbage.”

“Mmm… I think you likely got caught with the ‘professional’ babies… they don’t want to work; they just want to get paid for being hot.” You rolled your eyes, “they don’t care about careers, they want to be center of attention at all times.”

“And lord knows I don’t have the time or patience for any of that.”

Before you could reply your phone began a series of buzzes on the table top, your eyes flicking to the lit screen and you sighed, “hold on, it’s Heather.” You picked up the device to swipe open the text chain, half muttering to yourself, “bitch said I could work from home today but god knows I can’t go twenty four hours without having to put out a fire.”

“Duty calls?” Emily asked with a near grin, watching as you finished your wine.

“Unfortunately.” You cast a smile in her direction, “and right as we were getting to the good part, sorry.”

“No apology necessary, go. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured to the table.

“Are you sure?”

“All things considered; I think it’s my responsibility.”

“Right.” You laughed softly, popping your phone back into your purse as you slid out of the booth, “you have my number?”

“I do.” She nodded, “I’ll make a reservation for next Friday, we can do dinner and discuss this further?”

“Of course.” You smiled at her, “I’ll see you Friday Emily.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen

[becomingmina]

hey would you be able to write a felix x fem reader angst? when felix falls out of love with her.

“ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT HATE?" anon request w/ LEE FELIX.

pairing: felix x female reader genre + warnings: angst, reader cries wc: 1.9k mina's note: tmi - my ex fell out of love with me so this hits home a little. we meet when we were 12 and we broke up when we were 21. anyways, i hope you guys like this :)) and to the cuties anon who requested this, thank you very much!! sorry for making you wait, im just like felix i have no reason!

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“I asked you a question baby,” you say from across the kitchen island. Felix was occupied on his phone, sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter.

“I gave you an answer Y/N,” he huffs after a few seconds, not lifting his head from the device.

“Yeah, but not verbally though,” you make your way over to him.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re grown enough to figure it out, Y/N,” he replies back, rolling his eyes up from his screen for a second before continuing with scrolling.

“You’re really fine with them being blue?” You questioned again, hugging him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“They’re just cupcakes, they’ll get eaten anyways. I don’t understand what’s the big problem with the colour of the icing,” he says irritated.

It was Chan’s turn to host dinner for your friend group. You and Felix usually bring over homemade cupcakes for dessert. It was a ritual to spend every last Saturday of the month together in the kitchen baking and decorating two dozen cupcakes. And usually, it was Felix who would have a hard time choosing the colour for the icing but today it seems he just wanted to get the cupcakes over and done with.

“Okay,” you replied defeated, feeling a little hurt at his tone. “Did you wanna help me?” You softly asked, sniffing his shoulder to take in his sweet scent.

“I’m busy,” Felix sighed.

“Okay, I’ll iced them then,” you moved yourself away Felix, walking back to your original position in the kitchen.

Lately you feel like Felix hasn’t been his clingy needy self. He would stick onto you like glue every second of the day but recently he’s been distant. You can’t pinpoint when exactly it became like this, but you were sure it’s been a couple of weeks by now. He’s been telling you that work has been busy for him, and you understand how it can affect him, but you still feel a little bit downhearted when he visually shows his annoyance with you.

After finished up with the icing and getting yourself ready, you sat in living room with the box of cupcakes on your lap patiently waiting for Felix. He had locked himself in the office, saying he needed to go over his feedback for some report for work.

“Hey, how’d it go?” You ask when you hear the office door open, but he ignores your question as he searches for his car keys. You expected it didn't go well.

The car ride to Chan’s was silent as you figured you should probably give him some space. He looks over to your side a couple of times noticing your quietness, but he doesn’t strike conversation with you, only making a few little comments about how bad traffic was. You brushed off his lack of initiative making excuses for him that he was just tired from work.

“He surprised me the other day! He’s going to rent out my favourite art gallery for our wedding reception,” Hana and Hyunjin was giving the group details their upcoming wedding at dinner. They were so cheerful talking about it and although you loved it for them, you couldn’t help envy it and wished for you and Felix to reach that stage in life shortly.

“Who’s next? Felix? Y/N?” Chan teased with a raised brow, and you goofily smile at the older man. You turned your head to Felix to see his reaction, but his head is tilted down and his face was straight. Chan notices the tension and quickly changes subject hoping no one else catch on. It caught you by surprise that he wasn’t as responsive as you were to Chan’s joke. It got you second guessing if it was even work that’s been making him like this.

You spend the rest of the night with the other girlfriends. As they spoke about their recent dates with their partner, all you could do was be happy for them concealing the fact that you and Felix hadn’t been on one in ages. You keep glancing over at Felix throughout the night but he showed you no attention. Usually you would catch him staring at you and blowing kisses and winks at you, but tonight there was nothing.

The car ride home was the same as the car ride there - quiet.

Felix walked in your apartment first, you followed behind him closely. As you put your bag on the entry way table you tripped over a pair of shoes accidentally falling forward on Felix in the process.

“Y/N watch yourself!” Felix yells, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry,” you softly say as you got up. “I just tripped,” you defend yourself, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at his tone.

“God can you look where you’re going?!” he groans turning around to face you. He was red mad. He had never got this angry at you before for tripping over.

“Did I do something wrong to you Felix?” You asked softly, feeling something heavy in your chest. You needed an answer to why he’s been treating you differently, it’s obvious now that it wasn’t because of work. “Last couple of weeks you have just been distant towards me and I’m a little hurt by it,” you say cracking your voice in the process, pulling a string on Felix’s heart. He frowns at your reaction.

You watch him sigh, hesitating little bit before he answers “You know work is hectic-”

“-Is it?” You questioned in an offended tone, dumbfounded that he used the same excuse again - work. “Work is hectic that you have to yell at me because I accidentally tripped on your shoes? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even smile at me in front of our friends? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even answer a simple question about the colour of the icing on the cupcakes that use to mean so much to you?!”

You didn’t expect to have an outburst like this. Felix doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath watching you as you continue to lash out at him.

“You don’t ask if I’m okay anymore. You don’t hug me anymore. Because of work?” You chuckle, sarcastically.

“Y/N-” he takes a step closer to you.

“-You’ve leave for work early in the morning and come back home late on the days I’m at home-”

“I-” he tried to speak again.

“And when it’s the weekend you lock yourself in the office all day. You avoid spending time with me, you avoid talking to me.” Your face was red, brows furrowed as you keep your tears from falling.

“Y/N, let me talk-”

“What did I do to-” You cut him off again.

“I’m not inlove you anymore!” Your heart drops at his words. The tears you tried to conceal instantly rolls down your cheeks and you take in a sharp breath. “This relationship is draining me.” He adds, breaking you even more.

You didn’t expect this. He’s been so mean to you lately all because he wasn’t in love you anymore? It doesn’t make sense to you that all of this was done because he fell out of love. You refuse to believe it.

“Are you sure it’s not hate?” You sniffled, pulling another string from Felix’s heart. "Are you sure it's not because you hate me?" you repeat yourself when he doesn't answer, feeling a bit anxious that it might be true, that he actually hates you.

“Never.” Felix replied rapidly this time, his tone a lot more softer now. “I could never hate you Y/N." Felix continues to conceals his emotions, not letting anything pass you.

“But you’ve been acting like you do.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your eyes wavering to seek any reaction from him.

“I just needed space Y/N.”

“I gave you space. So much space,” you retorted.

“I think we should..” he stops before he says the last words, letting you piece the puzzle by yourself.

“You want to leave me?” You question and he flicks his eyes away from yours. You got your answer.

He lets out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes falling back on yours. “It’s for the best Y/N.”

“No, I don’t understand. Where I go wrong, Lix?.” you reached out to grip his forearm as the tears continued down your face, dripping to the floor.

“I don’t want to be here with you anymore,” he says softly, trying to loosen himself from your hold but you latch onto him tighter as you shake your head no.

“That’s not a reason Lix. Tell me where I went wrong,” You needed answers. He owe it to you. “You were the one who chased me, remember? You made me fall in love with you. It’s been 4 years and you want to leave me? Why?” You asked, in a complete mess.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m sorry Y/N,” Felix apologies.

“Tell me why?”

“I can’t-”

“Then stay.” If he didn’t have an answer then he shouldn’t leave you, it’s unfair.

Y/N,” he says firmly.

“Just for one night,” you say, taking in a deep breath. “You can leave when I fall asleep,” you surrendered, eyes wavering waiting for his answer. “Please,” you beg.

“Y/N.. Baby I can’t,” it was the first time he called you that in a while and your heart breaks once more. He stopped calling you that and started calling you by name for months now. How is it that you never noticed until now.

“I’ll let you go when I fall asleep.. Please..Just love me one last time, Felix.”

Felix contemplated. He stared at you. Your glossy eyes. Your runny nose. Your red cheeks. He watches your chest rises up and down as you tried to control yourself. He hates seeing you cry, he hates seeing you hurt. It breaks him. He gives in. “Okay.”

He has you on pulled up flushed on him on your shared bed, your legs tangled with his. Your face pressed again his chest as one of his hand is wrapped around your waist and the other traces nothings up and down your back. Your tears haven’t stop, they fall effortlessly out of your eyes on his shirt. You stay quiet. You want to talk. You have so many questions to ask. So many things you want to know. But you stay quiet because you know Felix won’t answer you. So instead you stare into nothing as you replay back your happiest memories with Felix. You can’t help the small smile that is pulled on your face as you remember everything, every detail of everyday with him.

You tried you best to stay awake but you feel your eye lids closing. You don’t want to give in to sleep because you know by the time you wake up, he’ll be gone. But you’re exhausted, both your body and mind.

Felix stares up at the ceiling. He’s guilty. He owes you a reason, he owes you answers but he keeps quiet. He replays back memories but he doesn’t have the same reaction as you. He doesn’t smile. He cries instead. Tears run down his face as you recalls the soft and sweet memories with you. How could he do this to you? How could he make you fall in love with him then walk out like this? How could he say he was no longer in love with you?

Felix doesn’t hear your sniffles anymore. He feels your breathing evens out with his body. You had fallen asleep in his arms.

Felix presses a kiss to your temple, his arm still holding your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

[enbyenvy666]

happy birthday?

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

a little birthday fluff for the great explosion murder god <3

CONTENT WARNINGS - aged up!Bakugo x GN!Reader, cooking accidents (cutting and hitting hand with a meat tenderizer, almost setting kitchen on fire), minor flooding, no beta we die like men w/c - 1.1k

Katsuki wasn’t a fan of his birthday, he just didn’t care for it. Growing up, his parents would force him to go out to dinner with his family, seeing aunts and uncles he didn’t like, bratty little cousins that screamed through dinner and wiping his grandma’s gaudy lipstick off his cheek. He hated pretending to appreciate the presents they gave him, even though the gifts made it clear his family knew nothing about him. Kamui Woods socks, really Pop?

“I just want a night in with my partner, a’right?” He said when you asked him what he wanted to do this year. You were going to make it the best night in ever then. Spicy chicken katsudon for dinner (his favourite), purin for dessert (another favourite), and while you were making it all, he would be relaxing in the bath you had made for him, and after you had eaten, you were going to cuddle on the couch watching his favourite movies. It was going to be perfect.

But you were held back at work, taking away crucial hours needed to cook. Compromising by buying the purin instead of making it, you were stuck behind an older woman who insisted on paying for her groceries with loose change, counting them out loud as she placed each coin on the counter. Then you were caught in stand-still traffic after finally getting out of the store. While debating slamming your head through the windshield, hoping it would wake you up from this nightmare, your phone rang. 

“Happy Birthday Kats!” you called cheerily as if you weren’t experiencing living hell at that moment. 

“Thanks, baby,” he replied, sounding despondent. Your brow furrowed, staring down at your phone with concern as if the picture of him on the screen could see you.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah just… rough day. I’ll be home early ‘kay? Can’t stand another second reading through paperwork,” he grumbled, and you could almost hear his deep scowl. Your stomach dropped when you realised that meant you had even less time to prepare for his magical evening, but traffic was starting to clear, giving you a glimmer of hope. 

“Of course baby, I’ll see you soon!” You legally raced home, barely giving yourself a moment before rushing to the bathroom and turning on the water. Running to the kitchen next, you tied an apron over your work clothes and began cooking. Your decision to make everything from scratch was, at the time, fueled by love, but now you were regretting it. Even the garlic had to be crushed by hand. Of course, more things had to go wrong though, a slip with a knife and a mash with the tenderizer, leaving your hand bleeding and bruised. Slapping the cutlet into the pan, you sighed- oh shit! The bath!

Running upstairs, you saw the water creeping into the hallway. Turning the water off and fetching a mop, you quickly started soaking up the mess. You filled up a whole bucket but not even half of the water was soaked up. Tipping the water into the now empty tub, the scent of smoke peaked over the damp smell of the bathroom. Sprinting downstairs, your wet socks made you slip as you rounded a corner, elbow smacking into the hard floor. Tingles shot up into your fingers as you hit your funny bone, but you had to ignore it along with the ache that accompanied it as you scrambled to your feet again. 

The kitchen wasn’t ablaze, thankfully, but a concerning amount of smoke was rising from the pan. Sliding it off the burner didn’t do much, so you flipped the cutlet to get some heat off of it, to reveal not only the charred chicken breast but more smoke quickly rose from it. At the worst possible moment, the smoking alarm began blaring, the ringing piercing your eardrums. With shouts of frustration and calls for the device to shut up, you grabbed a teatowel and waved it in the air around the alarm. You were too short to reach the button to turn it off, but maybe if you got a broom or a mop- the bathroom! 

In your panic of trying to decide whether to clear the smoke or to continue to mop the bathroom and hope the fire alarm would eventually tire itself out, the front door opened. With a clear look into the kitchen, Katsuki stood in the doorway, a briefcase containing his hero costume in one hand, grenade gauntlets in the other, watching you run around while waving a towel over your head. Your work clothes were unkempt, your hair a mess, a bandage on your hand and your soaked socks were leaving wet footprints on the floor.

When your gaze finally caught his, your shoulders slumped in defeat and the alarm stopped ringing as the opened door allowed smoke to escape. He dropped his stuff to the floor, taking slow steps towards the kitchen. You didn’t notice him cracking a smile as you looked at the disaster around you. Not wanting him to see your failure throughout the kitchen, you met him halfway. 

“I’m so sorry Katsuki, I tried making katsudon but I burnt the chicken because I flooded the bathroom, and I had to buy the purin from the store because I didn’t have time to make it, and I know the gelatin one isn’t your favourite but it was all they had-” your ramble ceased when you heard the blonde hero begin to chuckle. Maybe it was because of the tears that brimmed your eyes, but his smile had him glowing. It was a sight you rarely got to see, his genuine laugh something you rarely heard, but both were beautiful. He reached for you, his strong hands on your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he tried to hold back his laughter. 

“It’s okay, idiot,” he snickered as he pulled you into a hug. Your arms quickly wrapped around him, squeezing him close, almost sobbing into his chest.  “‘m just happy to come home t’ you.”

“I didn’t ruin your birthday, did I?” You asked quietly with a sniffle, almost afraid of the answer. 

“Of course not,” he tsked, pulling back to look down at you as he still held you in his arms. Your palms lay flat on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steadily under your palm. 

“Let’s order in instead, how’s Italian sound?” 

“Great,” you sighed in relief. Katsuki’s soft palm cupped your cheek, thumb soothingly stroking the stressed bag under your eye. After a soft but quick kiss, he took your hand, squeezing it as his gorgeous smile morphed into his usual handsome smirk. 

“Let’s go clean up that bathroom. And how about we leave the cooking to me from now on eh?”

[1nephthys]

The one with you

Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: just when a young barista thought her day couldn't be worse, it actually turns out it is... not so bad?

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader

Warnings: a bit of body shaming, a solid portion of delusional, English not being my first language

She got on the bus dripping wet because, of course, she forgot her umbrella and she was standing at the bus stop for a good ten minutes because traffic jams in the morning were awful. She wanted to text her boss that she would be a bit late but just as she took her phone out of her pocket she noticed a notification.

Battery low, 1%

And before she had any chance to do so, little electronic device shut down.

She looked at her watch, good thing she was old-school about those and preferred to check the time on her wrist instead of her phone.

9.03am

She was already three minutes late and the ride was at least ten more minutes long. Her boss was going to kill her.

She finally made it to her stop and got out of the bus. She ran to the coffee shop in the hope she wouldn't get wetter and be even more late.

9.17am

Just as she opened the door and the little bell above them rang she was met with an angry face of her boss.

"You are late." The lady said strictly looking at her poor, wet hair, clothes and makeup on the verge of melting.

"I know, I'm so sorry. The bus was late, the traffic jams are terrible." She tried to explain but the face of her boss hadn't soften even a little bit.

"Then maybe you should start getting there on foot. That would do great for your weight. And bring an umbrella with you. Now you gonna take some time to get ready." Oh. So she chose to be mean that day.

"I- I'm sorry. It won't happen again" She could explain herself better, but it wouldn't work. So she chose to ignore mean remark about her weight and get ready for eight hours of work.

Her day was awful. Starting with the bus, then the mean boss, then the lady who wanted a vegan latte but with cow milk, the little boy who dropped his glass of hot chocolate and his mother who yelled at her for not cleaning it was enough.

She was on the verge of crying while counting down the last minutes of work. It was still raining awfully and now the last bus just passed by the coffee shop but she couldn't wait for this 40 minute walk home.

3.28pm

She was collecting half full glasses that two girls who left few minutes ago left on the table.

While the sign "Leave your glasses and mugs right there. Thank you:)" was just a few steps away, above a counter for them.

She put the first glass of now cold, half-full coffee on the tray while grabbing the other one and turning around to get them to the counter.

And just then, she was met with a chest of somebody.

She spilled half of the glass of coffee on the customer that just come in.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry- I'm just gonna..." She didn't even know what to say. The day just couldn't get any worst.

"It's alright. I was in the way. Sorry." He saw the panic in her eyes and he definitely didn't put "make a poor barista cry" on his to-do list today.

"No, I'm sorry. God. I will pay you for that shirt." She said. Yeah, she definitely had money for what looked like a Tommy Hilfiger shirt with her salary.

"There's no need. I'm alright, really" He said, and just then her boss rounded the corner and looked at her employee and the man beside her, she looked like she would blow.

"Oh my god, your shirt! What happened?" She asked, trying to act all cool in front of a customer.

Just when y/n tried to put herself together and start explaining herself without getting fired, the blond guy picked up the glass from the floor, which somehow hadn't broken and looked over at the boss.

"I'm sorry, I just spilled it all over myself. The glass is in one piece though." He explained and looked over at y/n, who tried, she really did try to tell the true but today was too much so she just decided to let the stranger save her in front of her boss.

"Oh, alright. I'm so sorry then. I'm sure y/n there can help you and bring you new coffee as soon as possible." She said with a smile, oh how fake this smile was.

She went back to the back of the coffee shop, probably to sit in her office while y/n with the stranger walked up to the counter in the cafe.

"Thank you so much for that. I think you literally saved my life." The girl said quietly. She finally had a chance to properly look at the guy. He had blond hair and the deepest green eyes she had ever seen in her entire life. "What would you like to order? It's on me" She asked with a tired smile, but it was still the prettiest smile he had a chance to look at ever.

"I think coffee would be nice." He said.

"Alright, which one?" She pointed at the menu above her head, which consisted of about 20 different coffees.

"The one with you? After your shift?" The question just slipped out of his mouth and his cheeks got a bit red. Already thinking what to say if he got rejected.

"I guess I own you, huh?" She answered with a question, but hey, that wasn't no, right? He asked himself.

"Only if you want to." He was shy. cute. "I'm Mick, by the way" He scratched the back of his neck without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm y/n," She said with a smile. "And I would love to get a coffee with you, Mick" He felt like a huge stone was being lifted off his shoulders.

"You are closing in twenty minutes, right?" He asked and she answered with a nod of her head. "Let me go home quickly and change a shirt without a huge coffee stain and I will pick you up. That's sounds good?"

"Yeah, but I still need to clean up the place after." She explained.

"Don't worry about it. I can wait. I will see you soon." He didn't even give her a chance to answer as he was already at the door.

He did seen her soon, and then he seen her every single day of his life. And there two things she learned that day: do not call the day the worst of your life before sun sets and do not cry over spilled coffee.

a/n. I'm honestly not very happy with that but I started writing it literally a month ago and finished it just now because I simply do not have any time.

[kangals]

Kep report card for month 6 (omg it has been a full HALF YEAR of keppy already)

I changed most of the categories since most of them were really more designed for tiny 2-month old puppy, so these are more relevant for adolescence. I don’t really expect other people to read them all, but it’s nice for me having a record to refer back to.

Leash Walking: 🟢/🟡 overall good, but definitely pulls on a harness unless he is tired or I am constantly checking him (not “yank my arm off” bad, but annoying). he doesn’t do so on a collar, so I might switch to that for a while.

Manners - People: 🟡 wants to jump up on everyone he sees and gets very overstimulated by New Friend Attention. he’s very social still, not sure how much he’ll grow out of that (Stellina did, but I don’t remember if she was quite this extroverted at this age)

Manners - Dogs: 🟢/🟡 friendly bordering on annoying, but he does take corrections well and will give space without getting offended, so that’s a green. I give him a partial yellow here because he likes other dogs so much that he gets annoying about it while on leash and has a hard time focusing on anything else.

Manners - Home: 🟢 he’s really good at home, he settles well and aside from very basic puppy mischief (jumping up on the counters, taking things to chew) I can generally leave him to his own devices without issue. and is now housetrained, thank god.

Manners - Public Spaces: 🟢/🟡 really likes going places but just gets overstimulated about it, so it’s a lot of pulling on the leash and not able to settle. just needs more exposure and time I think. did pee recently at Petco but there’s so much dog traffic there it’s hard to say why.

Grooming: 🟡 trying my patience lol. he does solidly “ok” for brushing and nails as long as he’s got a distraction, but gets increasingly wiggly when restrained so we need to work on that.

Recall: 🟡 yellow but I don’t expect anything better at this age lol. Good at home, other places his brain is often checked out elsewhere. He is noticeably more responsive to voice command/tone of voice than Stellina was, which is nice.

Crating: 🟢 no issues, crates up well and doesn’t throw tantrums anymore. Does occasionally still have issues settling but that’s more just sitting upright/pacing than panic, and it does eventually go, so I’m not too concerned. Have only tried leaving him free alone for 20 minutes and he did fine, so hopefully we can start working that up and phasing out daytime crating.

Fear/Anxiety: 🟢 honestly very chill. he has startled at a few objects recently (trailer hitch, and one particular morning glory flower that I guess gave him bad vibes idk) but it’s a very upright, hackles up “hey what’s that!” Response as opposed to true fear or shyness, and he recovers fast once he had a chance to check out the issue. balks at new stairs sometimes, but that’s really it.

Volume: 🟢 green by collie standards lol. he’s significantly less barky than Stellina was, and mostly just barks when he’s playing or someone else is talking to him. does bark at ppl walking past the yard which is annoying but not obsessively so.

Puberty: 🟢 he’s a big fan of marking instead of just emptying the whole bladder at once, but so far he’s still only doing it outside so I don’t really care. hasn’t tried to hump, does sometimes get too interested in other dogs pee, but so far he’s controlling himself so Ball Privileges remain intact (no pun intended).

overall I’d call him a 🟢 with a few 🟡 caveats, all pretty typical issues for an 8month old herding breed. certainly no red flags or things that have really got me concerned, he’s a very happy, stable dog which I’m always thankful for. if the housetraining ends up being his biggest issue I think we’ll have gotten off very easy! but we’ll see what else adolescence throws at us.

[the-vixen]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥 : 𝙀𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

-------- MASTERLIST

When you are sent on a mission to rescue Ethan Hunt from prison, the events that domino will force you to face the ghosts of your past and your guilt tied to Ethan.

This takes place throughout the events of ghost protocol. There will be a change in the story and the events of the mission impossible 2 and 3. Ethan and Julia never got married, a certain amount of information will be changed that will be revealed in the story. 

You ran after Wistrom, leaving Ethan to catch up with you. You kept running after him, seeing the sandstorm hovering over you as you spotted Ethan. 

He caught up to you, "I told you to go!" he said. "shut up and help me track him." you said, running through the road and following Wistrom through some bushes. The shrubs scratched at your legs as the sandstorm blinded you and Ethan. 

You saw Ethan stop momentarily as you did too, the sand getting into your eyes. when you tried to clear your eyes Ethan was gone, and so was wistrom. You cursed and followed in the presumed direction, seeing two male figures running through a market. 

You looked around for another alternative, spotting a car. You grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a cloth to cover your face from the market, and hopped into the car, stealing the keys from the Arab man near you. You drove and looked for the end of the market. 

As you drove around in the storm, you eventually were able to catch sight of Ethan ontop of a car; probably wistrom's car. you cursed and chased after them, watching the car swerve to try and get Ethan off as he punched Wistrom through the window. 

The car went under a metal tarp, making Ethan let go and Tumble onto the road. you swerved and stopped the car, getting out and grabbing him, "you okay?" you helped him up. 

Ethan shook his head and held up a torn off mask, making you look at it, "okay. cmon. we have to catch up." you dragged him to the car. The two of you got back in, chasing after the tracker as Ethan gave you instructions from the device. 

"where is he Ethan?" you yelled through the storm as you served through the traffic. 

"he's coming on towards us." he responded.

You cursed again, knowing what Ethan was planning to do. "on three?"

"yeah. One--" 

"--two--" you sped up

"three!" the two of you jumped from the car as it rammed into Wistrom's car, flipping it over. both of you covered yourselves as it crashed on the road, upside down. 

You checked the car, finding no body. You saw Ethan run past you, slightly limping as he caught sight of Wistrom's figure. You followed suit, watching from a distance as Ethan struggled to keep up. Wsitrom grabbed onto the railing of an oncoming truck and hopped on, turning to face you and Ethan as you tried to keep up. 

He watched the two of you before ripping off the rest of his mask; Hendricks scowling at you two before throwing it down. The truck took off while you and Ethan stumbled, your feet sore and bloody from the barefoot chase. You caught up to Ethan as he stood defeated, sighing. 

You grabbed his shoulder, making him look at you. He didn't say anything as the two of you walked off to find shelter till the sandstorm cleared.

As you headed to an abandoned store, Ethan pulled off his cloth and looked at your feet, "youre bleeding." he stated. You shook your head and pulled off yours, "im fine--" you didn't get to finish before you were lifted into his arms. "Ethan--" you yelped in surprise as he held you easily and walked the rest of the way to the shack. 

Your arms moved around his shoulders as he walked, entering the store and setting you on the counter. He took off his goggles and shook the sand out from his hair, you doing the same and letting your hair down. "You really need to learn how to follow orders." he muttered, before looking around for something. 

"I had to go after him, and we would've lost him long time back if I didn't get the car." you said softly, watching him return with a water bottle and some arabic scarves. 

"yeah well we lost him anyway and you got hurt. again." he took off his blazer. He took one of the scarves and soaked it with water. He dabbed your feet, watching you flinch before trying to hold back a hiss from the pain. 

"that's--not fair." you said, biting your lip tightly as he kneeled infront of you. Ethan looked tired and frustrated and a part of you hated that you that there were intrusive thoughts of how good he looked to you from this angle. "if it wasn't for the storm this wouldn't have happened at all. and if you didn't try to bench me every chance you had we would've--ah!" you let out of a soft grunt as he wrapped your feet with the rest of the scarves. 

"so now we're blaming the weather and me?" he sassed, his gaze narrowing up to you and looking over your torn dress and skid wound on your arm. 

"im not blaming the weather." you frowned, "right, just like how you didn't blame me for crashing the bike that the secretary said you could borrow for a mission." he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. 

You pressed your lips together, "that's different. that was before you kept undermining me infront of everyone and benching me every chance you got. im not a kid Ethan. I dont need to be treated like one." you spoke. 

Ethan rose and put his hands on either side of your body, resting them on the counter as he leaned in, looking at you in scrutiny. "I have my reasons to want you out of action. if it was an option I would've benched you in russia." he muttered. 

Your heart stuttered at his voice and the close contact, while your mind screamed at the hurt you felt from his words. 

"That's not fair Ethan.." you whispered hesitantly. 

"What's not fair?" he rumbled, looking over your face. 

"The way you treat me. the way you've been speaking to me. I know I deserve it but I thought at least for the mission you could've put it aside...especially infront of our teammates...im not asking you to--" you cut yourself off when you felt his breath hit your lips. 

Ethan's gaze was hard as he watched your lips, the curve of your cupid's bow, the shadow and lines of your lower lip; adrenaline's still running through him and between loosing Hendricks and your disobedience, its very unlikely he's actually listening to anything you've said past "Ethan"

You gripped the counter, unsure of what to do. You've not seen him like this before, you can't tell if the next move he'll make will make or break you. A part of you knew that Ethan wouldn't hurt you, he never has and probably never will; but you've also seen what he's capable of when he believes his anger is justified. You could feel your body heat up when his icy gaze moved from your lips to your eyes, his jaw clenched as if he's daring you to say another word. 

If you were younger, you would've taken him up on that challenge. 

If you trusted yourself, you would've pushed these unmentioned limits that have been set.

If you didn't have the same fear you did back in Moscow, you would've been the one to put him in his place. 

All at once, guilt floods into you again, dam breaking from the crack the fear had caused. 

All at once, you yield and cease your argument, hoping to catch a form of reprieve as the only breath of air you can think of from your flooding thoughts is a kiss from Ethan himself. 

A silent reassurance, of your bridge with him having a hope of being rebuilt from its ashes. 

You felt his breath caress your lips once again, before he pulled away. 

"Fix your arm. then we'll move out." he put the extra scarves in your  lap and grabbed his goggles, walking out of the shack. 

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 58 : Day Three ( Aaron & Mark’s Afternoon part 4 )

 Aaron was in a daze as Mark pulled out then got back in line again. He had been encouraged by the fact that since he hadn’t seen anyone, that meant no one saw him and then they had gotten through all of the stops they had to make so he was grateful that their adventure was almost over but then Mark’s bombshell about having to go back though the drive-thru turned all of Aaron’s relief back to anxiety.

 Mark was equally discouraged as he pulled to the speaker box.

 Welcome, the speaker box spoke, would you like to try a super-mega-deluxe-bacon-fusion-jalapeno-mocha-burger today ?

 No thank you, Mark answered the speaker box, I, uh, I just came through, but I don’t think I got all my order.

 Oh, hey stud, the speaker voice spoke again, you left so fast I couldn’t give you all of your order. Pull to the window to get the rest of what’s coming to you.

 Mark pulled up to the window yet again. He was already dreading it since he was completely naked this time, but that last comment from the speaker voice caused him to worry even more.

 Hey stud, the same girl he had just sped away from was still at the window, here’s the rest of your order, she told him as she placed the bag on the edge of the window counter just out of reach. Without so much as a have a nice day, she simply turned away from Mark and started talking on the radio device to take the next order, leaving the bag still on the counter.

 Mark stretched himself as far out of the window as he could but was still unable to reach the bag. Son of a, Mark cursed, realizing he would have to pull up and open the door in order to reach out far enough to grab the bag. The car behind him honked it’s horn. Just great, Mark cursed again, f*ckin’ great. As quick as he could, Mark pulled up, opened the door and nearly fell out of the truck as he grabbed the bag trying to stay relatively hidden within the cab.

 We are out of here, Mark yelled back to Aaron as he got seated, closed the door and pulled out.

 Where are we going, Aaron asked, did you get the directions this time ?

 Yes, Mark answered, got them. Oh f*ck, Mark continued as he read the directions, that Lisa is one sick bitch.

 Why, Aaron asked again, where do we have to go ?

 The park, Mark answered, the one the gay guys use for cruising.

 Oh shit, Aaron cursed, we’re going to get r*ped or killed or both.

 No, no we’re not, Mark assured him, we’ll just find Jason and get out of there.

 Easy for you to say, Aaron yelled up to him, you’re not a naked teenager tied up in the back of a truck.

 Oh shit, Mark said, realizing his oversight, yeah, you should be able to get yourself undone. Get loose then get up here, Mark instructed him, you should be able to fit through the window.

 Thanks to Mark leaving the knots somewhat loose, Aaron was able to get himself free, then proceeded to maneuver through the rear cab window to get into the cab with Mark.

 Just watch your manhood coming through the window, Mark stifled a laugh despite the fact that he had just given away all of the clothes he was wearing leaving him to drive completely naked while the already naked Aaron crawled through the rear cab window.

 I don’t think Chris would appreciate you getting your boy junk caught up in his window.

 Well he’s not the only one, Aaron replied as he got himself situated in the passenger seat, I’ve grown rather attached to it, I’d like to keep it attached if at all possible.

 Yeah, Mark commented with a laugh, that’s probably a good idea. Now then, let’s go find Jason and get this over with.

 Do we know where to go, Aaron asked, once we get there ?

 Yeah, Mark answered, here, you navigate. There’s directions and a map there on the bag.

 It didn’t take long for them to get to the location indicated by their directions. It was a fairly secluded and obscure part of the park used mainly by park services and didn’t see much traffic by the general public.

 At least we should be safe, Aaron said with relief, it doesn’t look like anybody comes this way.

 Yeah, Mark confirmed, except blackmailers. Look, he instructed Aaron as he stopped the truck and pointed to a bare-assed naked Jason stretched out and tied to a fence.

[transformersimagines]

Unforeseen Consequences 

This is the second part to "To Be Decided" I would recommend reading that first so this makes sense.

The only reason this was even written at all is because of the likes and reblogs that have me re-reading my fics and get me inspired. Thank you for enjoying my mediocre writing of my favorite genre and fandom.

“You keep eyeing the clock, got a lady meeting you tonight?” The bartender, James, comments. I chuckle before downing the rest of my drink. 

“I wish, but it's all business tonight,” I pull my wallet out and tuck some cash under my now empty glass, “Keep the change.”

“Have a good night Sir.” James waves as I walk away. It should be a good night. It's been almost 10 hours since I poisoned the target. No one has ever lasted more than 4 days before they come running back for a cure. 

The cold, night air was a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat of the bar. The one drink did help with my nerves though, this client wasn't exactly the easiest.

I scan the streets and notice the red & white Porsche parked in an alleyway across the way. The client must have seen me since the headlights flashed on and off before the car reversed into the dark alley.

“Guess we are still doing the car thing,” I comment, checking for traffic before jogging across the street to the alley. This is the second time I've met the client face-to-face, kind of. He's never gotten out of his car. It didn't really matter anyway, this guy's money was good, and that's what was important. 

“This betta’ be good.” The client states flatly. God, he always sounded annoyed or pissed off whenever we spoke, even over the phone. I eye the windshield, trying to get a better view of him. Always imagined him as a big, tough boxer, probably retired. But, as always I can't even see a silhouette through the windshield, he must get pulled over a shit ton for that tint. 

“Your target finally showed themselves yesterday, after nearly 3 months of hiding. Thought you would want to know?” I lean against the alley wall, eyeing the sidewalk and street for any passer-byers. Wouldn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.

“Ya’ have ‘em?” He sounded less annoyed. Good.

“Not right now, but soon. They ran away in a teal and black Lambo, but not before I tagged them. I’ve got their live location streaming to this device,” I wave my phone in front of me, the tracking app open and actively pinging their location.

“Useless.” The client's lights flash on, the engine revving. Damn, this guy's brights are intense!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I got them with my inhalant. They won't last long in hiding under its effects. I’m the only one with a cure. You’ll have the target in less than a week, I guarantee it. Everything is under control.” I explain, pushing off the wall to stand up straighter. I needed to command more respect with this guy and leaning against a wall in a dirty alleyway wasn’t cutting it.

“Ya’ had one chance, and now ya’ve made things harda’ for me.”

Fuck. This guy sounds beyond pissed. “Hold on-” 

“Enough.” The car lights turned off, leaving me struggling to focus with the sudden darkness. The sound of grinding metal. Glowing red eyes. What was going on? Something cold grabs my center and my feet are no longer on the ground.

“You failed and I’m done dealin’ with a lower life form.” 

~

“I expected at least you two to understand why I have such strict restrictions in place with Y/N more than anybot else!” Megatron scolds.

“How were we supposed to know Optimus would get a human involved?! Did you expect that?” Sunstreak cuts into the rant, arms firmly crossed. 

I was sitting on the med-bay counter, Knockout towering over me while Megatron was berating the twins across the way. Knockout was able to cure me of whatever it was that guy made me breathe in. I wasn’t shaking and coughing anymore, but my chest and throat hurt like a bitch. I rub my chest as if it could smooth the pain.

“Anything change Y/N?” Knockout asks, noticing my movement.

I look up at him and shake my head, before turning back to look at the twins. I couldn't speak, it hurt so bad and made me sound like I’ve been smoking since birth. 

“That is exactly why we have the restrictions. There is no telling what Optimus Prime will-” An alert sounded from the med-bay computer that cut Megatron off.

“Megatron. I’m picking up an aircraft fast approaching from the southwest. Confirmed Autobot signature, though I can’t pinpoint who exactly.” Starscream reports. Megatron gives the twins one final side-eye before turning his full attention to the screen. 

“Just one signature?” Megatron questions, turning his attention to the computer's controls. Knockout moves out of Megatron's way, leaving me with an unobstructed view as the screen changes to an overview map, the Nemesis in the center with another dot quickly approaching. The tension in the room rises and falls as the dot zips right over and past the Nemesis. 

“Starscream?” 

“It appears they dropped something, let me see if I can get visuals,” Starscream reports. Before anyone could say anything the screen changed to a live view of the outside, not far from the Nemesis, an area I was familiar with.

Suddenly everyone was moving at the same time. Megatron scrambled with the computer controls and Knockout moved forward to stand in between the screen and me, but it was too late.

The man that had attacked me yesterday… his body was broken and twisted into a pile on the ground. So much red... were those bones sticking out? My stomach drops and the air leaves my lungs. Above his body there was a hologram that was displaying a short message:

“See you soon, Y/N”

[daintyduck99]

doing that twirling/spinning thing when they hug for writer's choice!

As usual, Mom finds Julie before Julie finds her. Her voice rings through the airport, lovely and strong and unmistakable. 

"Julie! Por aquí!" 

They beeline for one another, colliding in a hug despite the sweltering heat. The hug is brief, but fierce, punctuated by a kiss to the side of Julie's head. Mom beams. 

"It's so good to see you, nena." 

Julie beams back, blinking away tears.

"You too, Mami." 

Mom leans forward conspiratorially. 

"Want to make a detour for some ice cream? I won't tell your brother." 

Julie hesitates. "Are you sure? The traffic…and you hate driving…" 

"Ah." Mom smirks. "I brought a helper." 

She steps aside to reveal—

"Reggie!" 

Julie launches herself at him, and his arms are already around her, hoisting her into the air. He twirls her around, and they laugh, clinging to one another like…

Like close friends. Best friends. 

Basically family, at this point. 

She buries her face in his chest as he gently sets her feet on solid ground, allowing herself to squeeze him tighter for only a moment. He doesn't seem to mind. 

Actually, he props his chin on her head, squeezing her more tightly in turn. 

He hums into her hair. 

"Missed you, Jellybean." 

She mumbles into his shirt, but she knows that he knows what she's saying.

Two can play at that game, after all. 

"Missed you too, Reguito." 

Sure enough, his cheeks are a rosy red when they finally unravel. She just smiles.

Mom clears her throat, and Julie nearly jumps a foot in the air. Reggie, too. 

"Right!" he all but yelps. "Ice cream. Um. Bags first. We'd better get going." 

Her mother's musical laughter escorts them out of the airport. 

She shines on them both with the same sort of affection, and Julie swallows around the tightness in her throat. 

Reggie is already part of the family. 

She can't screw that up. 

Only— 

Then Mom starts behaving oddly. 

She insists on sitting in the backseat, and when they get to the ice cream shop, she lingers at the counter. She makes herself scarce at home, citing garden work, leaving Julie and Reggie to their own devices, as no one else is home yet and won't be for a while. 

They end up in the studio, of course. 

She plays the piano piece she wrote for her composition class, and they play a few of their favorite songs, some popular and some theirs, but when she asks him, semi-jokingly, to play a piece of his because it's only fair, he goes red again.

He blows out a breath, keeping his eyes fixed on his interlocked hands. 

"Well, your mom said—she kind of insisted that I needed to show a certain one to you, actually, but—she's agreed to take responsibility if it makes things—weird." 

Things are already kind of weird, but that feels like the wrong thing to say. Julie doesn't even trust herself to speak. 

She takes his hands and nods. Smiles. 

He swallows, searching her eyes. 

"Okay. Get me the acoustic?" 

She's quick to comply, and he cracks a small smile at her enthusiasm. They settle on the sofa, curled towards one another like parenthesis, like they always have. 

And he sings her the dreamiest song. 

Seriously; part of her wonders if she fell asleep during her flight. It's like her wildest dream come true, too good to be true, the light in his eyes and the longing in his voice as he pours his heart out to her.

Am I bright enough for you to keep? 

Do you wish on me when you can’t sleep?

Could I step into your starlight? 

He's hardly moved the guitar before she's flying into the familiar space of his lap. She tucks her face in the crook of his neck and his arms come around her reflexively. 

The only thing left to say is yes.

And when Reggie officially becomes a Molina a few years later, Mom doesn't need to say anything. 

She just shines.

[nitiemily]

Powering Embedded Camera Module Innovations for Smart Agriculture and Retail Solutions

In today’s fast-paced technological landscape, embedded camera modules are transforming how industries approach both agriculture and retail. These innovations are not just about capturing images; they’re about leveraging technology to enhance efficiency, improve decision-making, and drive growth. Let’s dive into how these camera modules are making waves in smart agriculture and retail, and why they’re becoming indispensable in these fields.

Revolutionizing Smart Agriculture

Smart agriculture is all about using technology to optimize farming practices. Embedded camera modules play a crucial role in this revolution. These compact, powerful devices are equipped with high-resolution sensors that offer real-time insights into various aspects of farm management.

Precision Farming

Embedded cameras help in precision farming by providing detailed images and data on crop health, soil conditions, and pest infestations. For instance, high-resolution cameras can monitor crop growth and detect early signs of diseases or nutrient deficiencies. This allows farmers to take timely actions, reducing waste and increasing yield.

Drones and UAVs

Incorporating embedded cameras into drones and UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles) has taken precision farming to new heights. These aerial devices can capture extensive imagery of large fields, allowing for detailed analysis of crop conditions. This bird’s-eye view helps in mapping out areas that need attention, optimizing resource allocation, and even predicting harvests.

Automated Irrigation Systems

Embedded camera modules are also integral to automated irrigation systems. Cameras monitor soil moisture levels and environmental conditions, ensuring that crops receive the right amount of water. This not only conserves water but also prevents over-irrigation, which can lead to root rot and other issues.

Transforming Retail Experiences

The retail sector is another area where embedded camera technology is driving significant change. From enhancing the shopping experience to streamlining operations, these modules are proving to be valuable assets.

Smart Checkout Systems

Embedded cameras are at the heart of smart checkout systems, such as those used in cashier-less stores. These systems use cameras to track items that customers pick up and automatically charge them, eliminating the need for traditional checkouts. This not only speeds up the shopping process but also reduces human error and theft.

Enhanced Security

Retail security has been revolutionized with the introduction of advanced camera modules. High-definition cameras with embedded analytics can monitor store entrances, aisles, and checkout counters, providing real-time alerts for suspicious activities. This helps in preventing theft and ensuring a safe shopping environment for customers and staff alike.

Customer Behavior Analysis

Understanding customer behavior is crucial for retail success. Embedded cameras can track foot traffic, monitor how customers interact with products, and analyze shopping patterns. This data is invaluable for optimizing store layouts, planning marketing strategies, and enhancing customer satisfaction.

The Future of Embedded Camera Modules

The future of embedded camera modules is bright, with ongoing advancements promising even more capabilities. Here’s a glimpse of what’s to come:

AI Integration

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is set to enhance the functionality of embedded cameras. AI algorithms can analyze images in real-time, providing insights and predictions that were previously impossible. For agriculture, this means better disease detection and yield predictions. In retail, it means more personalized shopping experiences and smarter inventory management.

5G Connectivity

The integration of 5G technology will further elevate the capabilities of embedded camera modules. With faster data transmission speeds and lower latency, real-time monitoring and analysis will become even more efficient. This is particularly beneficial for applications requiring instant data processing, such as live video feeds and remote management.

Miniaturization and Cost Reduction

As technology advances, embedded camera modules are becoming smaller and more cost-effective. This trend is making high-quality camera technology accessible to a broader range of applications and industries. For agriculture and retail, this means more opportunities to integrate cameras into various systems without significant financial investment.

Embracing Innovation

The integration of embedded camera modules in smart agriculture and retail is not just a trend; it’s a transformative shift towards more efficient, data-driven operations. By harnessing the power of these technologies, businesses and farmers can achieve greater accuracy, enhance customer experiences, and stay ahead of the competition.

As these technologies continue to evolve, it’s essential for stakeholders in both sectors to stay informed about the latest developments and consider how they can leverage these innovations to drive success. The future is bright for embedded camera modules, and those who embrace these advancements will be well-positioned to thrive in the ever-evolving landscape of smart technology.

In summary, the impact of embedded camera modules on smart agriculture and retail solutions is profound. From boosting farm productivity to revolutionizing the shopping experience, these innovations are paving the way for a more efficient and connected future. Whether you’re a farmer looking to optimize your crops or a retailer aiming to enhance customer engagement, embedded camera modules are key to unlocking new possibilities and achieving your goals.

To Know More About embedded camera module

[whitecraft]

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens

ByWhitecraftinteriorsSeptember 16, 2024

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens. The advanced kitchen is no longer fair a space for planning dinners; it has gotten to be a central centre for socialising, working, and getting a charge out of time with family. To make a kitchen that meets the requests of modern living, it’s fundamental to consolidate highlights that mix fashion, usefulness, and innovation. In this article, we’ll investigate 10 must-have highlights for cutting edge kitchens, each outlined to improve your cooking involvement and hoist the by and large climate of your space.

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens:

1. Shrewd Appliances

What Are Savvy Appliances?

Smart machines are prepared with progressed innovation that permits them to be controlled remotely through smartphones or voice collaborators. These apparatuses incorporate keen broilers, fridges, dishwashers, and indeed coffee makers. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Benefits

Convenience: Control your machines from anyplace, whether you’re at home or absent. For example, preheat your broiler on the way home from work.

Efficiency: Savvy apparatuses regularly have highlights like energy-saving modes and demonstrative apparatuses to guarantee ideal performance.

Integration: They can be coordinated into shrewd domestic frameworks for consistent operation with other devices.

Ideal For

Tech Devotees: Idealize for those who appreciate the most recent innovation and mechanisation in their homes.

Busy Experts: Perfect for people who require to oversee their kitchen machines effectively and conveniently.

2. Roomy Island with Seating

What is a Kitchen Island?

A kitchen island is a detached unit that offers extra counter space and capacity. Numerous advanced kitchens include islands with built-in seating ranges, making a multi-functional space for cooking, feasting, and entertaining.

Benefits

Additional Workspace: Gives additional counter space for feast arrangement and cooking.

https://www.whitecraftinteriors.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/modern-kitchen-design-interior-2-2048x1148.jpg

Storage Arrangements: Islands regularly come with built-in cabinets or drawers for included storage.

Ideal For

Entertainers: Extraordinary for those who appreciate facilitating social occasions and require additional space for guests.

Families: Gives a flexible zone where family individuals can accumulate and interact.

3. High-Quality Countertops

What Are High-Quality Countertops?

High-quality countertops are made from tough materials like stone, quartz, or marble. These materials not as it were seem rich but too withstand the wear and tear of everyday use.

Benefits

Durability: Safe to scratches, stains, and warm, guaranteeing long-lasting performance.

Aesthetic Offer: Accessible in a wide run of colours and designs to complement any kitchen design.

Low Upkeep: Simple to clean and keep up, particularly quartz countertops which are non-porous.

Ideal For

Busy Kitchens: Culminate for high-traffic zones where solidness and ease of upkeep are essential.

Stylish Homes: Includes a touch of extravagance and advancement to present day kitchen designs. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

4. Built-In Lighting

What is Built-In Lighting?

Built-in lighting incorporates different light sources coordinates into the kitchen’s plan, such as recessed lights, under-cabinet lighting, and pendant lights. This sort of lighting upgrades both usefulness and aesthetics.

Benefits

Improved Perceivability: Guarantees that each range of the kitchen is well-lit, making assignments like cooking and cleaning easier.

Ambiance: Permits for flexible lighting to make diverse dispositions and atmospheres.

Energy Proficiency: Driven choices are energy-efficient and have a long lifespan.

Ideal For

Functional Spaces: Fundamental for kitchens where perceivability and errand lighting are crucial.

Design Devotees: Perfect for those who need to highlight particular highlights or make a specific ambiance.

5. Sufficient Capacity Solutions

What Are Sufficient Capacity Solutions?

Ample capacity arrangements allude to different organisational highlights outlined to maximise kitchen capacity. This incorporates washroom cabinets, pull-out racks, drawer dividers, and built-in racks.

Benefits

Organisation: Keeps kitchen fundamentals organised and effortlessly accessible.

Efficiency: Diminishes clutter by giving committed spaces for things like pots, dishes, and utensils.

Customization: Capacity arrangements can be customised to fit the particular needs and format of your kitchen. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Ideal For

Families: Gives sufficient space to store basic supplies, cookware, and other kitchen essentials.

Home Chefs: Perfect for those who require organised capacity for an assortment of cooking instruments and ingredients.

6. Smooth Backsplash

What is a Smooth Backsplash?

A smooth backsplash is a plan component set between the countertops and upper cabinets. Present day backsplashes are frequently made from materials like tram tiles, glass, or metal and serve both utilitarian and tasteful purposes. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Benefits

Protection: Ensures dividers from sprinkles, stains, and grease.

Design Component: Includes a smart touch to the kitchen and can be a central point of the design.

Easy Support: Most materials are simple to clean and maintain.

Ideal For

Design-Centric Kitchens: Culminate for including a cutting edge touch and upgrading the visual offer of the space.

High-Traffic Zones: Appropriate for zones inclined to spills and splashes.

7. Twofold Ovens

What Are Twofold Ovens?

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Double stoves are two isolated stove compartments stacked vertically or put side by side. They offer the comfort of cooking different dishes at distinctive temperatures simultaneously.

Benefits

Increased Capacity: Permits for more cooking adaptability, making it simpler to get ready expensive dinners or different dishes.

Time-Saving: Decreases cooking time by empowering concurrent heating or roasting.

Convenience: Perfect for engaging or cooking for huge families.

Ideal For

Home Cooks: Idealize for those who regularly plan expound suppers or prepare numerous dishes at once.

Entertainers: Awesome for facilitating social occasions where different dishes require to be cooked simultaneously.

8. Touchless Faucets

What Are Touchless Faucets?

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Touchless spigots utilise movement sensors to work the tap without physical contact. This innovation gives a more sterile and helpful way to utilise the sink.

Benefits

Hygiene: Decreases the spread of germs by disposing of the requirement to touch the spigot handles.

Convenience: Perfect for active kitchens where hands might be grimy or full.

Water Preservation: A few touchless fixtures have built-in highlights to control water stream and moderate water.

Ideal For

Health-Conscious Mortgage holders: Idealize for those concerned with keeping up a sterile kitchen environment.

Busy Kitchens: Perfect for situations where comfort and productivity are a priority.

9. Coordinates Appliances

What Are Coordinated Appliances?

Integrated machines are built into the kitchen cabinetry, making a consistent and cohesive sea. These apparatuses are outlined to mix in with the cabinetry, concealing their nearness whereas keeping up functionality. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens. 10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens.

Benefits

Aesthetics: Makes a smooth, uniform see by covering up apparatuses behind cabinetry panels.

Space-Saving: Makes a difference in accomplishing a clutter-free kitchen plan by coordination machines into the general layout.

Functionality: Machines are still effortlessly open and useful, but with included visual appeal.

Ideal For

Modern Kitchens: Idealize for accomplishing a moderate or streamlined look.

Design Devotees: Perfect for those who need a cohesive and cleaned kitchen design.

10. Ergonomic Design

What is Ergonomic Design?

Ergonomic plan centres on making a kitchen format that improves consolation and productivity. This incorporates components like movable countertops, well-placed workstations, and easy-to-reach storage.

Benefits

Comfort: Decreases strain and weariness by guaranteeing that all components of the kitchen are interior simple reach and at the redress height.

Efficiency: Moves forward workflow by organising the kitchen into utilitarian zones for cooking, cleaning, and prep.

User-Friendly: Upgrades in general ease of use and openness for all users.

Ideal For

Home Cooks: Culminate for those who spend noteworthy time in the kitchen and require a comfortable, proficient workspace.

Aging Mortgage holders: Perfect for people who require a kitchen plan that suits physical limitations.

10 Must-Have Features for Modern Kitchens. A cutting edge kitchen is a reflection of both fashion and usefulness. By consolidating these 10 must-have highlights, you can make a space that is not as it were tastefully satisfying but moreover exceedingly commonsense and proficient. From savvy apparatuses and roomy islands to ergonomic plans and coordinated machines, each component plays a pivotal part in upgrading your kitchen encounter. Whether you’re remodelling an existing kitchen or planning a modern one, these highlights will offer assistance to accomplish a cutting edge kitchen that really stands the test of time.

[sohojware]

How To Create A Statistic Counter For Your Website Using HTML, CSS & JavaScript — Sohojware

Do you ever wonder how many visitors your website attracts? Or perhaps you’re curious about how many times a specific button is clicked? Website statistics counters provide valuable insights into user behavior, and statistic counters are a fantastic way to visualize this data. In this comprehensive guide by Sohojware, we’ll delve into creating a basic statistic counter using HTML, CSS, and JavaScript.

This guide is tailored for users in the United States who want to enhance their website with an engaging statistic counter. Whether you’re a seasoned developer or just starting out, this tutorial will equip you with the necessary steps to implement a statistic counter on your website.

Why Use a Statistic Counter?

Website statistic counters offer a multitude of benefits. Here’s a glimpse into why they’re so valuable:

Track Visitor Engagement: Statistic counters provide real-time data on how many visitors your website receives. This information is crucial for understanding your website’s traffic patterns and gauging its overall effectiveness.

Monitor User Interaction: By placing statistic counters strategically on your website (e.g., near buttons or downloads), you can track how often specific elements are interacted with. This allows you to identify areas that resonate with your audience and areas for improvement.

Boost User Confidence: Well-designed statistic counters can showcase the popularity of your website, fostering trust and credibility among visitors. Imagine a counter displaying a high number of visitors — it subconsciously assures users that they’ve landed on a valuable resource.

Motivate Action: Strategic placement of statistic counters can encourage visitors to take desired actions. For instance, a counter displaying the number of downloads for a particular resource can entice others to download it as well.

Setting Up the Project

Before we dive into the code, let’s gather the necessary tools:

Text Editor: Any basic text editor like Notepad (Windows) or TextEdit (Mac) will suffice. For a more feature-rich experience, consider code editors like Visual Studio Code or Sublime Text.

Web Browser: You’ll need a web browser (e.g., Chrome, Firefox, Safari) to view the final result.

Once you have these tools ready, let’s create the files for our project:

Create a folder named “statistic-counter”.

Within the folder, create three files:

Building the HTML Structure

Let’s break down the code:

DOCTYPE declaration: Specifies the document type as HTML.

HTML tags: The and tags define the root element of the HTML document.

Lang attribute: Specifies the document language as English (en).

Meta tags: These tags provide metadata about the webpage, including character encoding (charset=UTF-8) and viewport configuration (viewport) for optimal display on various devices.

Title: Sets the title of the webpage displayed on the browser tab as “Website Statistic Counter — Sohojware”.

Link tag: Links the external CSS stylesheet (style.css) to the HTML document.

Body: The tag contains the content displayed on the webpage.

Heading: The tag creates a heading element with the text “Website Statistic Counter”.

Counter container: The element with the ID “counter-container” serves as a container for the counter itself.

Counter span: The element with the ID “counter” displays the numerical value of the statistic counter. The initial value is set to 0.

Script tag: The tag references the external JavaScript file (script.js), which will contain the logic for updating the counter

Styling the Counter

Let’s break down the CSS styles:

Body: Sets the font family for the entire body and centers the content.

Heading: Adds a bottom margin to the heading for better spacing.

Counter container: Styles the container with a border, padding, width, and centers it horizontally.

Counter: Sets the font size and font weight for the counter element, making it prominent.

Implementing the JavaScript Logic

Let’s break down the JavaScript code:

Variable declaration: Declares variables counter and count. counter references the HTML element with the ID “counter”, and count stores the current counter value.

updateCounter function: Defines a function named updateCounter that increments the count variable and updates the text content of the counter element.

setInterval: Calls the updateCounter function every 1000 milliseconds (1 second), creating a continuous update effect.

Running the Counter

Save all the files and open the index.html file in your web browser. You should see a webpage with the heading “Website Statistic Counter” and a counter that increments every second.

Customization and Enhancements

This is a basic example of a statistic counter. You can customize it further by:

Changing the counter speed: Modify the setInterval interval to adjust how frequently the counter updates.

Adding a start/stop button: Implement a button to start and stop the counter.

Displaying different units: Instead of a raw number, display the counter in units like “views” or “downloads”.

Integrating with analytics tools: Connect the counter to analytics tools like Google Analytics to track more detailed statistics.

Styling the counter: Experiment with different CSS styles to customize the appearance of the counter.

FAQs

1. Can I use a statistic counter to track specific events on my website?

Yes, you can. By placing statistic counters near buttons or links, you can track how often those elements are clicked or interacted with.

2. How often should I update the counter?

The update frequency depends on your specific use case. For a real-time counter, updating every second might be suitable. For less frequent updates, you can increase the interval.

3. Can I customize the appearance of the counter?

Absolutely! You can modify the CSS styles to change the font, color, size, and overall appearance of the counter.

4. Is it possible to integrate a statistic counter with other website elements?

Yes, you can integrate statistic counters with other elements using JavaScript. For example, you could display the counter value within a specific section or trigger other actions based on the counter’s value.

5. How can I ensure the accuracy of the statistic counter?

While JavaScript can provide a reliable way to track statistics, it’s essential to consider potential limitations. Factors like browser caching, ad blockers, and user scripts can influence the accuracy of the counter. If you require highly accurate statistics, it’s recommended to use server-side tracking mechanisms or analytics tools.

By following these steps and exploring the customization options, you can create a dynamic and informative statistic counter that enhances your website’s user experience and provides valuable insights into your audience’s behavior.